Fade To Midnight (30 page)

Kev stared at her. His throat was petrified. There was big cold rock where his voice box had been. Edie just waited, merciless.

“Come on, Kev,” she prompted gently. “You can do this.”

He cleared his throat. “I deserve love,” he said hoarsely.

She gave him the spoonful. It was all he could do to swallow it.

His throat burned. His chest, too. Her eyes were wet, shining.

He grabbed the dessert and the spoon out of her hands. “OK,” he said. “Your turn now. Say it, Edie. All of it.”

Edie quietly repeated the exact phrases that he had said, accepting spoonfuls of the dessert after each assertion.

At the end of the solemn ceremony, they gazed at each other. Raw emotion vibrated between them in the deafening silence.

“I love you,” she said.

He swallowed. “I love you, too.”

He put the container and the spoon down, and took her hands. Lifted them to kiss them, slowly and reverently. Edie pulled her hands free, put them around his neck, pulled his face down to hers.

He meant for it to be a holy, sacred kiss. Gentle, respectful, in keeping with the gravity of the moment, but no. The kiss flared instantly into something frenzied. Like he had to crawl inside her soul to survive. Like they'd both die if they didn't get closer, kiss deeper.

He pulled back, gasping for air. “You keep doing this to me, and you know I'm going to fuck you again,” he blurted. “I was trying to be reasonable and civilized. Trying to give you some time, let you rest. But you keep messing with my head.”

She undulated against him. “The food gave me a second wind.”

He swept the containers off the bed with his arm, and seized her.

 

“I cannot believe it! Aren't you hardened professionals? Decades of experience? I read your brochures, gentlemen! It's all bullshit!”

Ava's shrill voice was making Des's head ache. He rubbed his temples. Tom and his men were slumped in their chairs in the big luxury trailer outside Ava's lab that Des had procured for them, in varying stages of bloody disrepair. Richard's face was turning color, both eyes swollen shut, his mouth was distorted and torn, nostrils still caked with dried blood. Ken was hunched in his chair, curled around the ugly black hematoma in his scrotum, whining about a ruptured testicle. Tom's pant leg was cut off, his thick, hairy leg bandaged with blood-soaked gauze. In short, they were a whimpering, pathetic mess.

“Ava, please,” Des soothed wearily. “Calm down.”

“We handed them to you! On a silver platter! And you let them get away!” Ava's voice rose to a shriek. “Imbeciles! Incompetent
dickheads!
”

“You sent us out there with incomplete intel,” Tom threw back. His face was beaded with sweat, pupils dilated from the pain meds. “We weren't aware that he had a high level of combat training—”

“He is a
McCloud!
” she hissed. “Did you not read the files? His background, his father, his brothers? Did we not tell you what Sean McCloud did to Dr. O? Did you not do the cognitive enhancement program? Can you think for yourself? Is the concept foreign to you?”

“You told me he was a brain-damaged amnesiac!” Tom snarled.

Ava snorted her disgust. “In the future, remind me. Thinking is a process that you and your people need to have outsourced.”

Tom's eyes went very cold. “Shut up, you mouthy cunt.”

Ava's eyes lit with battle fury. “To think I facilitated orgasms for these losers.” Her voice was a thread of sugary poison. “If I had it to do again, I'd compel Keira to bite their shrinking little pink penises off.”

“I'm done.” Tom looked at Des. “Deal's off. I cannot cope with your venomous bitch of a girlfriend and a knife in my leg at the same time. And I want McCloud for myself. I want to take this”—he held up the dagger that had been embedded in his leg—“and fuck him with it.”

“Not McCloud,” Ava snarled. “He's mine.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Just hold on,” Des broke in. “Everybody just take a deep breath.” He leaned over Ava, gripped her shoulders. “Shut up,” he whispered. “Or we lose everything.” Ava's breath hissed through bared teeth like a cornered animal, but he held her gaze. “Everything we always wanted,” he coaxed. “You with me? You'll be good?”

Her eyes dropped. She gave him a sharp nod.

Des turned back to Tom. “Ava's sorry she was rude to you.”

Tom snorted his disgust. “She can suck my dick.”

Ava's smile dazzled. “Wouldn't risk that, if I were you, Tom.”

“Stop it! Everyone!” Des snapped. “Throwing insults is inefficient. We need a new strategy for taking McCloud without injuring him.”

“Drugs,” Ava said. “Trank gun. I'll load it with something special.”

“Or Tasers,” Ken offered.

“That's what you should have used last night!” Ava snapped. “You risked damaging his brain even more! Blackjacks? Stupid
idiots.
”

“Ava! Shut up!” Des massaged his temples. “So, Parrish is no longer in the ICU,” he said briskly. “I called Marta. His status has been upgraded to good, and he's leaving the hospital to look for Edie. We start making arrangements as soon as he's home.”

“I thought McCloud in the bag was key to that plan,” Tom said.

“We'll get him in the bag,” Des assured him.

“Yeah? And how do you propose that? He's off boning the girl in a hotel somewhere. Why should he come back at all?”

“He'll come.” Des held up his cell. “I've got his number, and I've got something that he wants. He'll come. So will Edie, when Daddy croaks all over the evening news. We've got them both cold, Tommy.”

Tom's nostrils flared. “Could have suggested this possibility before you had me stick my neck out last night.”

“I'm sorry, man. I didn't know about his combat skills, either, but I did know about yours, and they're flat-out amazing,” Des soothed. “It seemed simpler to have you take him. At the time. Forgive me, OK?”

Tom grunted. “Leave the cock licking to the girls, Des. They do it better.” His eyes flicked to Ava. She smiled, showing off her white teeth.

Des rushed into the breach before things could degenerate further. “We need to put surveillance cameras in McCloud's apartment, and Edie's. If either one of them should drop by, we'll grab them. Are you gentlemen, ah…fit for that?”

“Fuck you, man,” Ken Wanatabe growled.

Richard just opened one eye halfway, closed it, and groaned.

“It'll get done,” Tom muttered.

“One more thing.” Des braced himself. It was a piss poor time for this particular conversation, but it had to be gotten through. “I meant to ask you about this yesterday, but things got crazy. The disposal issue.”

“We took care of it yesterday,” Tom cut in brusquely. “Before the banquet. It's done. Don't micromanage.”

“I'm not talking about Keira,” Des said. “I'm talking about what's backed up in the cooler already. I know it's a bad time, but Parrish was supposed to croak last night, and he didn't. And he's breathing down our necks. We have got to take out the trash.”

Tom's mouth hardened. “How many?”

Des shrugged. “I think there's about eight, last time I checked.”

“Twelve,” Ava corrected. “He hasn't checked in a while.”

Tom stared at Des, then at Ava. “Twelve,” he repeated. “You send us out with bad intel to get fucked by that hopped-up McCloud maniac, and
then
you tell me you want us to get rid of twelve cadavers for you?”

Des gazed apologetically back at his friend. “I know, it's a lot to ask,” he said. “But consider this. For an exclusive contract with—”

“No!” Ava shrieked. “An exclusive is wasted on these idiots!”

“For one year,” Des went grimly on. “Shut up, Av.”

Tom chewed the inside of his cheek. “Two years,” he said.

“No!” Ava wailed.

“One,” Des repeated patiently. “Only one.”

“Eighteen months, and the bitch sticks a sock in her mouth.”

“Done,” Des said, giving Ava a quelling look. “We've set things in motion, Av,” he said softly. “We can't go back. It's too late. Eat it.”

Ava looked away. Her face was a white mask of fury.

Des pulled up the number, and hit
CALL
.

K
ev tried to ignore it, but the buzzing was relentless.

He dragged his brain up to the level of consciousness, with the uncomfortable sense that he'd been way too far under. That phone could have been ringing for hours. He could have opened his eyes and found himself looking into a gun barrel. With Edie's lithe body draped all over his dominant gun arm. He had to sharpen the fuck up. Fast.

But he didn't want to sharpen up. Or even to get up. Fuck the phone. He was fine where he was, with Edie wrapped around him, her hair swirling over his chest, her tits pressed against him.

Who the fuck was calling him, anyhow? Someone persistent.

He stumbled out of bed into the cold, kicking through scattered clothes until he found the coat. It was on the floor, where Edie had dumped it last night. He crouched, rummaged in the pockets until he found the thing, squinted at the display. Not a number he knew.

Edie was sitting up now, looking worried. “Who is it?”

“We'll see.” He sat down on the bed, and hit
TALK
. “What?”

A pause, and a male voice asked. “Is this Kev Larsen?”

The voice was familiar, and annoying. He fished through his databanks, trying to match it. “Who the hell is this?”

“This is Desmond Marr. Good morning!”

“Ah.” Kev summoned what courtesy he could for that slobbering hound. Calling at this ungodly hour. He peered at the clock. Ten-fifty.

Shit. Not so ungodly. So what. He'd fish for something else to be rightously pissed about. “How'd you get this number?”

“Excuse me for taking the liberty.” Marr's charm oozed through the electronic frequency, as unpleasantly viscous as it was in person. “Edie borrowed my phone last night at the banquet to text you, so I had the number in my records. Hope you don't mind. Did I wake you?”

Like that was his fucking business. “What do you want, Marr?”

Marr's fruity chuckle set Kev's teeth on edge. “Actually, this was about what you wanted. Weren't you interested in researching the—”

“I told you I'd get in touch,” Kev said. “No need to call me.”

Marr cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. Well, I've been in touch with the Parrishes, and they're terribly upset about Edie being, ah, kidnapped. By you. Sorry, but that's how they see it.”

That gave Kev a jolt. So far, nobody knew about last night's kidnapping attempt except for himself and Edie. “She hasn't been kidnapped,” he said. “We'll call them, and tell them. No big deal.”

“Oh, that's great news,” Des said heartily. “That'll be a big relief to everybody. So I suppose you wouldn't mind putting her on the phone?”

Kev handed Edie the phone, mouthing “Marr.”

Edie took it. “Hey, Des. What's up? Any news of my Dad's condition?” She listened, nodding. “Good. I wish he'd stay longer, but if he's feeling strong enough to launch a crusade…yeah, he's tough…that's problematic, Des. They don't approve of me being with Kev, so it would be best if I…yes, I know, but…” She rolled her eyes eloquently at the tinny burst of verbal diarrhea coming from the cell. “I'm not coming home right now. I'm safe with Kev, and…no. We'll be leaving soon anyway. Don't worry about it.”

Nosy shithead. Trying to pry their coordinates out of Edie. Kev reached for the phone, cut off Des's pompous tirade in midsquawk.

“Marr. It's Larsen. We'll talk later. Give Parrish our regards.”

“Don't hang up! You know those archives? Charles asked me about them this morning. If you wait, Parrish is going to know a lot more about you than you know about yourself, and he is not going to leave any crumbs. If you want that info, you have to move fast. Today.”

Kev's jaw clenched. He had to find someplace to stash Edie, and a human pit bull to guard her while he got his hands on a car and a computer. So he could track down those fucking kidnappers and get started on the task of grinding them into a fine pink paste. Fuck the Osterman archives. He was busy. “Tomorrow,” he said. “Can't, today.”

“It may be too late,” Marr warned. “I can't guarantee that—”

“So be it,” Kev said. “I can't do anything until tomorrow.”

“I'll try to hold them off until tomorrow.” Marr's voice sounded long-suffering. “I need to contact Ava. What time will you be able to—”

“I'll let you know tomorrow. Don't call. I'll be in touch.”

“Fine.” Marr's voice was markedly cooler.

Kev almost hung up on the guy, but paused, gripped by an odd impulse. “One question,” he said. “Why are you doing this?”

Marr grunted, sourly. “To be honest—”

“Yes, please be honest.”

“I'm not doing it for you,” Marr said. “You're a rude, uncooperative asshole. I'm doing this for Edie, because she asked me to. And because I want to know exactly what we're dealing with, too. Like Parrish does.”

“Ah.” Kev listened with all his senses for more.

“If one hair on Edie's head gets hurt, it's not just Parrish who's going to be after you,” Marr threatened. “I'll be coming after you too.”

Ooh. Terrifying prospect. Kev sternly did not permit himself to say anything sarcastic. He'd indulged in enough childish behavior lately.

“OK,” he said. “Fair enough. Tomorrow, then.”

He hung up, and looked at Edie. “Is that guy carrying a torch for you? Did you turn him down, or something?”

“Good God, no.” Edie looked bewildered. “Des Marr's barely ever spoken to me until last night after the banquet. He's ignored me all my life, even back at the Haven. I have no idea why he's suddenly so focused on me. It's weird.”

Kev arranged himself so that his gun arm was free to lunge for the SIG 220, and tucked Edie into the crook of the other arm. “Did you look in the mirror last night before you went to the banquet? He saw you, and he had an epiphany. Can't say as I blame the guy.”

“Please. Spare me. Is it my magical pink evening gown, again? It transformed me into a siren who melts men's brains?”

The woman still didn't get it. Kev decided not to bother arguing. Time enough to convince her later. “We should call your dad. Let them know you're OK. And tell them about the kidnapping attempt.”

She looked pained. “He'll be hysterical.”

“It's information that his security staff needs,” he said, grimly stoic. “For your sister's sake. That's the only reason I'd do it.”

She rubbed her face. “Let me wake up, first. Maybe some coffee.”

“The longer you wait, the harder it will get,” he warned. He stroked her hair for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling panels. “You said that Marr did Osterman's cognitive enhancement program, too?”

“Yes, he was one of Dr. O's favorites. In fact, it was his dad's raving about the massive improvement in Des's grades that gave my dad the idea to sign me up, too.”

Kev dragged her closer. “What did Osterman do to you kids?”

A frown marred her forehead. “It was different for everyone,” she said. “Dr. O's thing was about finding the perfect balance between the negative and positive approaches to releasing latent brain power.”

“Positive and negative,” he repeated. “Sounds ominous.”

“It was,” she agreed. “The positive techniques were the drugs and the behavioral training, and negative involved the removal of barriers. Inhibitions, complexes, fears, self-defeating beliefs. It boiled down to pseudo-psych motivational lectures, a heavy drug regimen, daily brain training sessions and hand tailored pinpoint electroshock therapy.”

He whistled. “Holy shit. That's scary shit.”

“Oh, yeah. To free us. ‘From the chains that bind our brains.' Dr. O's catchphrase. I hear it in my dreams. Or nightmares, I should say.”

Edie stared at the wall, lost in her unpleasant memories.

Kev gave her a squeeze and nudge. “Hey. Hello? Come out of it.”

She shook herself. “He sure freed something,” she murmured.

“You mean the psychic thing that happens when you draw?” he asked. “You think that's because of what Dr. O did to you?”

She met his eyes. “I know it was,” she said simply. “It started there.”

“What was the effect on the others?”

Her eyes looked haunted. “Hard to say. There's not many of us left. Except for the success stories, like Des. And the high achievers don't talk about Dr. O in negative terms. I tried once to get in touch with people, do an informal survey of their experiences of the Haven. I got frozen out like you would not believe.”

“So there are non-success stories, too?”

“There are a lot of non-success stories,” she said quietly. “Suicides. Homicides, too. One guy killed his girlfriend, then himself. Another killed his family. There's the drug ODs, the alcoholics. There's some incidence of brain cancer. And the ones in the mental ward. Not a real high percentage, but higher than it statistically should be.”

He was taken aback. “The families never protested? You'd think there would be lawsuits right and left.”

“Dr. O had his ways of protecting himself,” she said. “I think he implanted post-hypnotic imperatives, or something like that. Maybe I'm nuts for thinking this, but for years after the Haven, every time I tried to tell my parents what happened there, I got a blinding headache. After a while, I just gave up. They weren't interested, anyway. Not at the time. And the success stories were impressive. Like Des. He's amazing. Only three years older than me, but in a couple years, he'll be running Helix.”

Kev illustrated his opinion of Des Marr's amazing qualities with a succinct hand gesture, and pulled her into his arms, as if he could protect her retroactively. “Wonder what part of Marr's brain got zapped.” He could guess, but he'd keep that speculation to himself.

“Me, too,” she admitted. “For me, I think it must have been some natural protective filter. Thank God it's not worse. I only have these episodes when I'm in an alpha state, and I only go into that state when I'm drawing. Or, ah…when I'm having sex with you.” She turned pink. “I tune into you then, too. But that's the only exception.”

His cock began to twitch and throb. He bore down on the impulse to roll onto her and take the plunge. Not while she was making halting, painful confessions. “Interesting,” he said, his voice strangled.

“Yes,” she agreed. “If that kind of info came at me full bore all the time, I'd be in a padded cell. Or dead. Maybe that's what happened to some of the unsuccessful Haven alums. I just got lucky.”

“Or maybe you were stronger,” he suggested.

She flinched. “I never felt particularly strong. On the contrary.”

“There's all kinds of strength. You're very strong.” He nuzzled her shoulder. “Hard to believe all the parents allowed it.”

“The parents didn't know,” Edie said. “Dr. O was good at playing us. Making each kid feel crucial to Dr. O's plan for a better world. Don't tell your parents! They'll never understand the new, powerful super-you! Don't distress them with things beyond their comprehension! Only the elect few are capable of undergoing my ultra-secret mind techniques, and so on and so forth. What teenager could resist that?”

He stared at her. “You did, evidently. You never bought it.”

She snorted. “Nope,” she admitted. “He froze my blood, even before he did the electroshock stuff.” She stroked her cheek against his chest. “I got the sense that Dr. O really didn't know exactly what he was doing,” she said. “He was just fucking around with us. Because he could, just to see what would happen. Calling it science.”

He shook the sickening image away, and sat up, pulling a number up on the phone.

“Who are you calling now?” she asked.

“Backup. We're stranded here with no wheels. We need help.”

She tilted up her elvish eyebrow. “From who?”

He felt the stretch on his facial scars as the grin started to spread. “Our relationship is about to get a big fat status upgrade.” He pushed
CALL
. “Watch out. You're about to meet the Ranieris.”