Inferno
Authors: Adriana Noir
Inferno (SKALS #4)
By: Adriana Noir
Copyright 2014 © Adriana Noir
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or photocopying means, including but not limited to information retrieval and storage systems without written permission from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and places are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Edition: June 2014
Cover by: Clarissa Yeo @Yocladesigns.com
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. The author does not condone or endorse the actions in this book. Nor does she make any allegations that such are proper or true. This novel contains graphic violence and sexual situations. It is intended for mature audiences only.
~ Dedications~
SKALS has been one crazy, amazing journey. The road my readers travel isn’t easy, so I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for sticking it out, for hanging in there, and for loving or hating the characters come what may. My deepest gratitude goes to my
readers
. Thank you for letting me steal a few hours of your day. Thank you for your support. It comes in so many ways. I can never express how much your comments, emails, and messages mean. Like seriously…never. Whatever success I may have, I owe it to each and every one of you. You make the journey so much fun.
SKALS Reconditioning Team! What can I say? You guys…I have no words. Thank you so much for all of the laughter, love, support and ass kickings you send my way. There’s no way I can ever repay you. You guys are the Josh to my Sebby. I don’t know where this next journey will lead, but I’m looking forward to the ride. Time to strap yourselves in, cupcakes! So much love to you all.
My dear sweet family I don’t know how you all put up with me. Thank you…for everything, but most of all for keeping me *somewhat* sane. Not an easy task, I know!
Mara…I owe you so many margaritas and quite possibly a house on the beach. It’s 5am and neither of us have gotten one minute sleep. That is the meaning of dedication. You are beyond awesome and a lifesaver at that. I love you my dear soul twin.
My ‘Cheshy’-- my mentor, my unspoken muse. So much of this is because of you. Your smile alone has carried me through more than you will ever know. I hope all of your dreams come true.
From the bottom of my dark but sappy little heart, I thank you all.
Table of Contents:
CHAPTER 1 ~
Sebastian plowed a hand through his hair, his pale stare never wavering from the building. Hatred and fear rolled in his stomach, pitching the meager contents of his lunch. The Benz’s stiff leather steering wheel creaked beneath his tightening grasp. One way or another, he was going to have to push thoughts of Project Blue aside. He was going to have to fight through the sickness knotting his gut, and he was going to have to face Marx without letting the smug bastard catch on to what he knew. Releasing a ragged breath, he pulled the key from the ignition with a rueful shake of his head. He’d never been one to shirk his responsibilities or push them aside, but after seven years of service, the prospect of stepping inside SKALS headquarters had never felt more cold or damning.
His shoulders slumped as he eased out of his vehicle and squinted against the midday sun. All too soon, the darkness and grim grey walls would close in around him. Today, it felt as if the bleached concrete complex would swallow him whole. Sebastian scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to pull himself back together. Death waited for no one here. It prowled the grim corridors and slithered beneath cold steel doors, claiming its victims at will. He held no illusions. One solitary misstep and it would claim him too. This was the devil’s playground. Here was where evil felt most at home.
A cold chill rippled down his arms when the first blast of air-conditioning washed over his skin. After nodding at the guards stationed inside, he made his way through the dimly lit labyrinth, his body on autopilot. Sometimes, it was better not to think, not to feel. Seeking distraction, he fished out his phone and scrolled through his messages. The silenced call from Josh stared back at him along with an accusing text message.
Where the hell are you, Baas? Call me back.
Brow knitting with his frown, he keyed in a quick response.
I’m here now. What do you want?
He shot the guard stationed outside his office a cursory glance. Tension hummed through the big man, and his expression was more anxious than usual. Their eyes locked and Sebastian knew Marx loomed, waiting on the other side of the door. Drawing a deep breath, he pushed it open, his narrowed gaze riveting on the broad span of the director’s back as he helped himself to a tumbler of whiskey. Marx downed the contents with a muffled grunt before turning. His full lips quirked at the corners, accenting the contented gleam in his eyes.
“There you are,” he said, his deep voice rolling like a low peal of thunder through the room. “I was starting to wonder if you were even going to bother showing up today.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Sebastian asked, shutting the door behind him. Giving Marx a wide berth, he strolled across his office and thumbed through the new stack of papers piled on the corner of his desk.
“It’s hard to tell with you lately, Baas. You seem to have acquired the habit of doing as you please. Where were you?”
Careful to keep his expression neutral, he studied the commander, trying to gauge his mood. It was a moot question. Little, if anything, escaped the director’s attention. Marx was fully aware he’d spent the morning talking to Colleen James. The suspicious glint fueling the dark pits of his eyes said as much, as did the stern set of his jaw. Shifting his attention, Sebastian straightened the paperwork before rounding the corner and stationing himself behind his chair. He was still reeling from the impact Project Blue had delivered to his system, and it was best to keep as much distance between them as possible until he had a chance to process that information and cool down.
“Skip the interrogation, Marx,” he said flatly. “You know the answer to that as well as I do.”
“Indeed, I do,” the director agreed. “What I would like to know is what you were doing there?”
“I was following up on the case. It was my understanding you wanted Patrick James located as quickly as possible. I felt given her treatment here yesterday, she might be a little more eager to assist.”
“I see,” Marx stated. He lifted a heavy brow. “And was she?”
“She’s working on it.”
Marx’s broad shoulders jerked in a show of amusement. “I’m sure she is. Let me give you a gentle reminder here, Agent Baas. There are rules and protocols to be followed, one of which is not running off on renegade missions of your own. The next time you feel the need to follow up on information, clear it with me and be sure to take one of your teammates with you. Is there a problem between yourself and Agent Reevers that I should be aware of?”
Sebastian’s eyes constricted into thin slits upon seeing the look of satisfaction dancing across the commander’s craggy face. Obviously, that kind of discord was exactly what the bastard was hoping for. The prick didn’t even bother trying to mask his optimism. He felt the muscles along his jaw jump in a dangerous twitch as the familiar burn of rage bubbled through his veins.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he bit out, “but not that I know of.”
He stiffened as the door flung open without warning and shoved them both into a hate-fueled silence. Tilting his head, he regarded his partner.
Josh’s chest heaved as his bewildered gaze darted between them. Pausing, he scrubbed a hand across his nape. Uncertainty replaced some of the panic stamped across the sharp angles of his partner’s face.
“Can we help you, Agent Reevers?” Marx asked with more than a twinge of sarcasm.
“I just…what are you doing here, Baas?”
His normally smooth baritone was strained, incredulous. Sebastian’s brow lowered and knitted in confusion.
“Where else would I be?” he asked.
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten how to knock, Joshua. Or maybe you failed to notice we are in the middle of a meeting. Either way, I suggest you remove yourself from this room and find something useful to occupy your time,” Marx interrupted.
“But…”
“Now, Reevers!”
The commander’s harsh bark was almost deafening. Sebastian flinched, unable to help the grimace that rose with the renewed throb behind his sinuses. Something close to pleading haunted Josh’s eyes as they locked with his from across the room. He watched with more than a twinge of curiosity as helplessness and frustration played across his partner’s face like a kaleidoscope before he departed with a slow shake of his head. The uneasy feeling returned full force. Whatever it was, it was important. Something was wrong. His heart stutter-stopped in his chest.
Had something happened to his sister or one of the kids? His piercing gaze swung to their director and narrowed in question. What the hell was Marx trying to hide this time?
It was hard to tamp down the suspicion and accusations, especially knowing what he did. Marx’s power trip wasn’t just threatening his family this time around. It was life and the entire world, as he knew it. His fingers bit deep into the back of the padded office chair to keep from curling around his gun.
“You need to get your men under control.”
Clenching his jaw, Sebastian forced a stiff nod.
“I want a full report on your conversation with Mrs. James within the hour. I suggest you get it done before then.”
Blowing out a forceful breath, he watched the commander leave. He raked his hands through his hair, giving the disheveled curls a wild tug before dropping into his chair. He didn’t have time to confer with his team about what he had learned, let alone see what had Josh in an uproar. Part of him knew that was exactly what Marx intended, but it was better to play along, at least for the moment, than risk another long stint in one of the reconditioning cells. After pouring himself a drink, Sebastian downed the sweet amaretto whiskey with a grimace. Perhaps it was better this way. Every time he thought about Project Blue, or what Marx’s plans with the program might entail, his stomach burned, panic threatened, and fear started to get the upper hand. There was no room for that here. Here in the land of death, only cold calculation and anger were allowed to breathe.
After dropping the report on Marx’s desk, he prowled the corridor, searching for his partner. Despite the distractions menial paperwork provided, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling seeping into his bones. Frowning, he keyed in his partner’s number. He tensed at the sound of the phone ringing down the hall and disconnected the call. Josh appeared around the corner a few seconds later. Frustration and worry gathered in creases around his steely eyes.
“There you are. Jesus, it’s about time,” Josh hissed.
“I got to you as soon as I could. What’s wrong?”
“When is the last time you checked in on Taylor?” Josh asked, glancing over his shoulder before closing the distance between them.
“I haven’t talked to her since I left the house this morning. She was going to run some errands with Rupert and check in with me this afternoon. Why?”
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all morning. There was some kind of accident. The call came in a little bit ago. I overheard Marx talking to the hospital, and I’m guessing it was pretty bad. As soon as he found out it wasn’t you in the car, he started looking for ways to tie you up. You gotta get out of here, Seb. Go see what’s up. I’ll cover for you as best I can.”
The world droned in and out around him as he backed away and tried to process that last dose of information. First Blue and now this. It was too much. Just too damn much. Plowing a hand through his hair, he shot his partner a parting glance and made a beeline for the front entrance. His guts felt lodged in his throat as he shoved the doors open and shouldered past the guards hard enough to send one of them stumbling back on his heels. He offered no apologies. His steps quickened as he strode toward the Benz, fully expecting Marx’s deep voice to shatter the silence behind him. It wasn’t until he slid behind the steering wheel that he let out the breath he’d been holding. His hands shook as he fumbled for his keys, his gaze darting to the front doors. After several tries, he finally managed to jamb it into the slot. Gunning the gas, he threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot with a shrill bark of the tires.