Out of the Shadows (Tangled Ivy #3) (2 page)

Needs to be told twice.
The words reverberated inside his head, turning around and over as he replayed events from a different perspective now.

“How long have you known about Ivy?” he asked, already thinking he knew the answer.

“Long enough to know I needed someone close enough to watch you.”

“It’s the agent, isn’t it?” Devon said. “The FBI agent. It was never a coincidence that he took such an interest in Ivy.”

Vega’s lips curved in a thin smile. “See what I mean? Clever. Of course, not as much as me. The agent’s presence was . . . fortuitous.”

“So did he come willingly into the fold, or did he have to be persuaded?”

“The Shadow has sleeper agents that are activated when required,” she said. “An American FBI agent is a particularly valuable asset to have.”

“Was Anna’s death also regrettable? Don’t tell me you also didn’t conveniently allow her location to slip to Heinrich.”

“Clive made the same mistake you did,” Vega retorted. “And I’ve had to spend entirely too much time running about cleaning up the ties you and he made to civilians.”

“And where is Clive now?”

“Clive was used as a lesson to your precious Ivy,” Vega sneered,
gripping the arms of her chair and leaning forward. “I’m fonder of you
and had hoped to spare you the pain of another death. I persuaded Ivy that it would be better for your continued good health if she ended
things between you. Clive helped me . . . illustrate the point.”

Clive was dead. And it was only by the whim of the sociopath sitting across from him that Ivy wasn’t dead, too.

The tension in the room was palpable as Devon and Vega stared at each other. After a moment, she relaxed her posture and settled back again.

“Are we going to have a problem?” she asked, the deadly calm of her voice sent a chill through him. “I let Ivy live, but that can change. It’s up to you.”

“You’re threatening me,” Devon said.

“I’m
reminding
you,” she countered. “Of your duty, and your purpose, which is not to marry the girl and ride off happily into the sunset. Those dreams are fairy tales meant for children.”

Devon stood, refastening the button of his jacket. “I’m getting Ivy back. Once that’s done, I’ll end my association with her. But I will not let you determine that her fate now be in the hands of those who’d use her as a science experiment.”

Half of that was a lie. He would not be dictated to by the woman who’d murdered someone so dear to him. It was only through the self-control honed by years of biding his time that he was able to hide the rage burning through his veins. He wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and strangle with his own hands the woman who’d betrayed him. But he was well aware of the danger lurking behind these walls. Someone was always watching. He’d be dead before his fingers even touched her skin.

Vega nodded slowly. “I’ll allow it. Providing you follow through with your intention to rededicate yourself to the job. To me.”

Devon’s smile was cold. “Always. For Queen and country.”

“Me, the Shadow, then Queen and country,” Vega corrected.

Their gazes locked and Devon gave a slow nod. He felt her eyes on his back as he exited the room.

Returning to the lift, he pushed the button and glanced to his right as the doors slid open.

Two men were heading Devon’s way. They were the same men who’d taken Ivy back to her apartment.

Devon smiled affably, holding the lift until the men had joined him inside. “Long night?” he asked casually.

One of them gave a short nod and tight smile, quickly averting his eyes.

Devon waited, every sense on alert. Casually, he unbuttoned his jacket, glancing at the small camera mounted in the corner, its eye silently watching.

His fingers fairly itched to make the first move, but he didn’t want to if he could help it. If Vega doubted his loyalty, now would be the perfect time to eliminate him. She wouldn’t have done it herself while he was in her office—no, she never got her hands dirty. She’d have these men kill him. He couldn’t let that happen. If he was dead, Ivy would be at the mercy of Vega’s double agent and whatever government or pseudo-government agency had taken her.

The doors slid open and the men parted to allow Devon to exit.

“Good evening,” Devon said, taking the step that would pass him between them. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his skin tingled at having to put his back to them.

He took a breath . . . held it . . . but they made no move to interfere. Another second and he was clear of the lift. The doors closed behind him.

Devon felt exposed in the bright light of the hallway. Anyone could take a shot at him and he wouldn’t even see them until his body hit the floor. He kept his steps sure and even as he walked toward the exit that seemed a mile away.

Nothing happened. Nothing prevented him from walking out those doors and getting into his car. Vega must have figured he’d been properly chastised and threatened. No doubt she also didn’t want to lose two highly trained agents in as many days. Letting her think he’d been cowed hadn’t come naturally, not when he’d wanted to rip her apart with his bare hands. But reacting emotionally would help no one, least of all Ivy. So he’d played the game and pretended.

However, the problem with having a tiger on a leash was . . . it was still a tiger.

I
used my fingernail to scratch another line into the wall alongside the other two. I had no watch, no windows, and no clock. All I had to mark the passing of time were the meals pushed through the slot in my door. Three regular meals served like clockwork. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Nine meals since I’d been taken. Three days.

The door to my cell opened and I sat up on the sparse twin bed. I knew what was coming. Two people entered, their gender indeterminate due to their yellow hazmat suits. They never spoke to me as they wheeled in the cart with the needles and tubes. With ruthless efficiency, they strapped me down on the bed and took their blood samples.

I’d tried fighting them the first time. That had been a mistake. They’d dosed me with something that had knocked me out for hours. The lethargic feeling had taken a while to wear off so I hadn’t fought the next time they’d come, never wanting to be so powerless again.

Then I’d tried talking to them.

“Who are you?” I’d asked. “Why are you doing this? When am I going to be let go? Where’s Agent Lane?”

Lane. Special Agent Scott Lane of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Erstwhile supposed friend, then the man who’d betrayed and imprisoned me. He’d not shown his face since the night he’d helped them haul me away. He’d said it was “for my own good.”

For my own good, my ass
.

The two people took my blood and my vitals, then departed, all without speaking to each other or to me. It was scary how accustomed I was to being a human pincushion. Actually, it was more than scary. It was terrifying. But if I thought too long and too hard about it, I ended up in a panic. That kind of fear was paralyzing.

What
was
I going to do? That was the more pertinent problem. Staying here for the indefinite future was out of the question. The space was like an anesthetized hospital room, though even more sparse. Bathroom, bed, and chair. Generic clothes that were clean. No television. No phone. A small stack of books, notebook paper, and some pens and pencils were all they’d given me to while away the time. I was about to go stir-crazy.

To top it off, I was worried about Devon.

He’d been so angry the last time I’d seen him. Storming from my apartment in the mistaken belief that I didn’t want to be with him. Mistaken because I’d had no choice but to lie to him since Vega had made it clear she would kill him before she’d let him escape her clutches.

I missed him. I missed him so much there was an ever-present ache in my chest. Every time the door opened I couldn’t help hoping, no matter how farfetched, that he’d enter my cell and rescue me from the hell I was living.

Tears stung my eyes but I blinked them back. They would not see me cry. And I had no doubt I was being monitored. A small camera in the corner of the ceiling kept an unblinking eye on me.

What if it went on like this for longer? What if days turned into weeks and weeks into months? What would my friends and family think? I’d just disappeared. Would they think I was dead? Would anyone look for me?

Would Devon ever return and see that I’d gone missing?

He’d know something wasn’t right. He’d know what to do. I couldn’t help hoping, even if logically I knew that hope was futile.

The door opened again. Usually they wouldn’t come for more blood until morning. A man entered, and to my surprise, he wasn’t wearing a hazmat suit. Instead, he was dressed in khaki pants, a dress shirt, and white lab coat. He left the door open behind him.

“Good evening, Ivy,” he said, pulling a chair next to my bed. “I am Dr. Nayar.”

“Hi,” I said, and I wasn’t real friendly about it. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs.

“How are you feeling?”

I stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. “Trapped,” I said. “How do you think I feel?”

“That’s understandable,” he said sympathetically. “And I apologize that we have to do this for now—”

“I’m a US citizen,” I interrupted. “You can’t just keep me here like this, with no cause. It’s a violation of my civil rights.”

“Unfortunately, the danger you pose supersedes your rights at the moment,” he said.

“What kind of danger?” I shot back.

“The virus you carry, of course.”

“I’m not carrying a virus,” I said. “I have the vaccine.”

“A vaccine unknown to anyone and never before tested,” he countered. “Considering what we know of the virus, unleashing you on an unwitting populace hardly seems wise.”

“So where’s your suit then?” I asked. “Everyone else has come in here with those hazmat suits. But not you.”

“They’ve been displaying an overabundance of caution,” he explained politely. “But I wanted to talk to you and thought the suit wouldn’t be conducive to that.”

“You want to get to know the lab rat?” If I’d hoped to break his calm with the jibe, I failed. The man seemed unflappable.

“You’re not a lab rat, Ivy,” he said. “You’re doing an incredible service to your fellow man. Perhaps you’ve seen firsthand what that virus can do to someone, perhaps you haven’t.”

I remembered Anna and how she’d looked, blood pouring from her nose, lips, and eyes. It had been horrible, and I couldn’t imagine how painful her death must have been.

“But trust me when I say that it’s an awful way to die,” he continued. “The virus itself can only survive in the open air for a very short time, but long enough to infect. In the wrong hands, this could decimate entire populations.”

“Is it always fatal?” I asked.

He shrugged. “It’s impossible to tell. I’d hope there was some allowance for survivability, but there’s no way of knowing.”

“I still fail to see why you need me to stay here,” I said. “I’ve been around people for months, interacting with the public, and no one has taken ill because of me.”

“Not yet, no.”

“So you’re just going to keep me here? Indefinitely?”

“Why don’t you tell me more about the night you were vaccinated,” he said. “You went to the home of Mr. Galler, correct?”

I gave a heavy sigh, but saw no reason not to answer him. “It was a quick pinprick. That was all. I felt sick a couple of hours later but was fine by the next day.”

The doctor wrote this down as though I’d spouted prophecy.

“You can re-create it, right?” I asked. “The vaccine? That’s why I’m here. So you can re-create it.”

The doctor smiled. “Of course.” He slipped his pen into his pocket, but it fell from his fingers to the floor. When he bent to retrieve it, I took my chance.

One of the books they’d left for me to read was a hardback, a real heavy tome. Snatching it up with both hands, I swung with all my strength. It smacked the doctor on the side of his head as he straightened.

He toppled out of the chair onto the floor and didn’t move.

I knew I had mere moments before whoever was watching came for me. I snatched his ID card, which looked like it doubled as a key card, then rummaged frantically through his pockets, finding and grabbing a set of keys. Then I was out the door and running like hell down the hall.

An alarm sounded, loud and grating. As I neared a door next to a window in the hall, I heard footsteps behind me. Turning, I saw two men in hot pursuit. Though they had guns at their hips, they didn’t pull them. I’d been right in assuming they wouldn’t want to kill me.

I swiped the key card in front of the reader at the door, looking through the glass to see a man and woman staring at me. The woman’s mouth was open in shock, while the man was on a phone, talking frantically.

The door buzzed and I shoved through just as the woman stepped out of the doorway.

“You can’t—” she began.

I hit her. My fist sank hard into her gut and she doubled over. I clasped my hands and brought my elbows together, than rammed them down into the back of her neck as hard as I could.

She collapsed to the floor and I didn’t waste time seeing if she’d get up. I felt a flicker of regret for hurting her, but I was fighting for my life and my freedom. Nothing else mattered.

I burst into the room just as the man was backing up. He was still on the phone. I grabbed the base and yanked. The cords ripped out.

“Stop!” he yelled, making a grab at me, but I swung the phone with both hands and smashed him in the face. Blood spurted from his nose as he reeled back. I swung again and this time he went down on all fours.

I glanced to my right, searching, and spotted the control switch for the door. I slammed my hand down on the lock button just as the men pursuing me appeared outside the window. I watched, heart in my throat, as they swiped their key cards. The door buzzed, but did not open.

Grabbing a piece of broken plastic from the now-ruined phone, I turned the sharp broken edge down and raised my arm, wrist up. In a quick swipe, I cut a four-inch gash halfway down my forearm. It wasn’t terribly deep, but neither was it a paper cut. Blood began flowing freely.

Reaching down, I got a big chunk of the guy’s hair and yanked his head up so he’d look at me. His eyes were glassy, but he was still conscious.

“You know what’s inside me,” I said.

He nodded, his vision clearing. Blood was smeared across his face and dripped from his nose. I held up my arm so he could see.

“You do what I say, or I’m going to make certain you get contaminated. Got it?” Not that I thought I was contagious. I just wanted him to buy it.

Understanding dawned, then panic. He nodded frantically.

“Give me your keys and your key card.”

He fumbled in his pockets and I glanced through the window. The two guys were working at the lock. One of them was watching me, and he didn’t look nice.

“Hurry up,” I urged the guy, who finally handed everything over. “Back on the floor.” He complied and I hurried out of the room and began running down the hall.

A door with an actual lock that had no keycard swipe blocked my path. I tried key after key on the ring he’d just given me. There was a buzzing noise. The men had gotten through that door and were closing in fast. I scrambled through the keys, willing one of them to work. Two more didn’t, then one finally turned. Rushing through the door, I slammed it shut, then shoved the key in the other side of the lock and broke off the end. Praying that would slow them down, I turned and ran, my bare feet slapping against the linoleum floor.

There was an elevator ahead. Relieved, I ran toward it, hoping it would lead me to freedom. When I was ten feet away, the doors slid open, and a man stepped out. I skidded to a halt so fast that I slipped and fell on my butt. I stared up, horrified.

It was Beau.

Beau had no business being here. Beau was a salesman and my nosey neighbor. If he was here, that meant only one thing: he’d been lying to me all this time and was working for the very people imprisoning me.

All this went through my head in an instant. I scrambled back, still on the floor, aghast at coming so far only to be thwarted this close to freedom by someone I’d thought a friend.

He spotted me on the floor and ran toward me, weapon in hand.

“Ivy! Holy shit. I didn’t expect this.” He reached for me.

“You’re a liar,” I said, slapping his hand away and scrambling to my feet.

He grabbed my arm as I tried to back up.

“Yeah, I’m a liar. I’m also here to bust you out. You coming or not?”

I looked behind me. The men were working on the door, alarm still blaring. I had no choice. I let him pull me into the elevator just as a crash sounded down the hall. They’d gotten the door open.

Panic spurred me to punch the button to shut the elevator doors and Beau hit the button for level one.

“Take this,” he said, handing me a gun from the small of his back. “But don’t shoot anyone.”

“You’re giving me a gun and don’t want me to use it?”

“Right.”

The doors opened before I could question him further. Beau peeked carefully out of the elevator, weapon at the ready, but no one appeared. My heart was in my throat as I followed close behind him. The metal of the gun was warm in my grip. Blood flowed down my arm to coat my hand.

It was dark outside. A car skidded to a halt outside the door at the same time as someone yelled.

Beau spun around, firing as he yanked me behind him. Beau fired twice more, backing me up until I hit the door. “Into the car!” he yelled at me.

I rushed to the waiting sedan and yanked open the rear door. I threw myself inside and Beau followed. The driver stepped on the gas and the door banged shut behind us. Tires squealed as we tore away from the building.

My eyes shut in relief. I was breathing hard, blood thundering in my ears. What had started as an impulsive, desperate gamble to escape had actually succeeded.

Beau was reaching for my hand and taking the gun from me. He had to pry my fingers off before I realized what he was doing and let go. A gun meant safety, a way to defend myself, and I didn’t want to give it up.

“Where’s the blood coming from?” he asked, looking at my arm. “Did you get hit?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s just a cut.” I glanced up front. “Who’s driving?”

“You can call me Ty,” the man said. “I’m in the same business as Beau.”