Debra Webb - Colby Core

“What about you?” he ventured. “Are you a soldier?”

Another shake of her head.

“Daughter?” He searched her face for a tell-tale emotional reaction. The guy who called himself the Master was old enough to be her father. But Riley knew better. This was Tessa Woods. “Wife?”

Her shoulders lifted then fell. “I belong to the Master.”

Indignation knotted in his gut. This was going to be every bit as sick as he’d suspected. “The Master? ” He knew very well who she meant. The bastard in charge. He hadn’t given his name. The two who’d brought Riley here, and then used him as a punching bag, had only referred to their boss as “Master.” “He doesn’t have a name?”

“We’re forbidden to speak it.” She turned away from him and returned the beaker to its place.

The way she took pains to see that it was placed exactly as she’d found it warned again that she feared being discovered, now or later, down here with him. That she dared to take the risk suggested one of two things. Either the Master hoped her innocence would draw out the truth or she was in the market for help.

Too soon to tell.

What he needed was time.

Unfortunately that was a luxury he didn’t have. The Master and his henchmen hadn’t completely bought his story so far and there was a very great likelihood that in a few hours he would be a dead man.

“Tessa?”

That he called her by name appeared to startle her.

“Any chance you could cut me loose?” He shrugged. “If they’re just going to kill me, I’d rather miss that part.”

Her gaze drifted to the stairs again, before settling on his. “Tell them Renwick was responsible for the ambush. That he sent you, but you’re willing to negotiate your alliance.”

Talk about surprised. Here he’d thought the lady was this innocent little angel but she was talking ambushes and negotiations. “And that’s supposed to keep me alive?” Oh, yeah, he could definitely see how admitting that the enemy had sent him would do the trick.

“His people recruited you.” She thought for a moment. “Phipps. Tall, thin, red hair. He offered you a hundred thousand to set up a takedown. You never met Renwick. Only Phipps.”

“Telling them that I’m a mole doesn’t seem like a good plan to me.” His wrists were burning from the tightness of the ropes but that was the least of his problems at the moment.

Those big blue eyes stared right through him, as if she hoped to penetrate his brain and make him pay attention. “It’s a good plan.”

She turned and started for the stairs.

“Maybe I’ll just take my chances with the truth.” Might as well cover all the bases … just in case.

Tessa paused at the bottom of the stairs and met his gaze once more. “Then you’ll die.”

TESSA CHECKED THE SECURITY peephole before activating the latch to enter the library. She held her breath until she confirmed that there was no one in the room.

The pressure of the air seemed to change as she closed the door leading to the basement and held still to listen. The silence continued to linger in the air.

Counting him, there had only been three people in the questioning room and two patrolling the grounds.

If the others were in their rooms for the night, she should be able to reach her room without incident.

She checked the entry hall before leaving the library. The house was completely dark but she knew every square foot. Learning the furniture placement had ensured she never bumped into a table or chair. The slightest noise would bring trouble.

A loud thump echoed. Tessa froze. Outside, she determined. Another solid thump.

Car doors.

She hurried to the nearest window. Two SUVs had arrived. Five, six, seven … she counted seven men loitering around the vehicles.

The soldiers.

This was downtime. No ongoing operations. Two of the patients were ready for delivery. Risks weren’t taken during this time.

Had the arrival of the man downstairs, Smith, generated all this activity?

“Tessa.”

Her blood froze in her veins. Turn around. Face him. She knew better than to ignore him even for a second.

She faced him. “Yes?” Her mind spun with usable excuses for why she was not in her room. The key in her pocket seemed to burn her skin through the flannel.

He allowed her to carry a key. One key that fit the lock to the children’s room and that of the patients as well as her own room. If she angered him, he would take the privilege from her.

“What’re you doing down here?” He turned on a table lamp and assessed her for several seconds. “You should be asleep by now.”

“Everyone else is asleep. The doors slamming outside woke me. I was worried.” She gestured to the window. “Is something wrong?” Her voice sounded a little shaky. She prayed he wouldn’t make something of it.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about.” He motioned for her to come to him. “Your attention is needed elsewhere.”

Tessa moved close enough for him to take her arm. The feel of his hand on her skin made her sick to her stomach. “I guess I’m a little anxious after what happened in Alabama.”

“A nuisance.” He guided her to the stairs. “Nothing more. No need to fret.”

She nodded. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s a busy time,” he offered with uncharacteristic understanding. “I’ll expect you to be well rested in the morning.”

Her head moved up and down of its own accord, proof of her comprehension of his advisement. That he seemed unfazed by her forbidden action made her all the more nervous. She forced one foot above the other, climbing the stairs without looking back and hoping that would be the end of it.

“Tessa.”

Fear swirled wildly in her belly. She turned back, keeping her hand planted firmly on the railing, her feet braced to run. “Yes.”

“Do not mistake my indulgence of your behavior tonight for a softening of the rules.” He pressed her with a harsh gaze. “You know the rules. I will not tolerate another infraction. Not even from you.”

“I understand.”

Turning her back to him and climbing the remainder of the stairs was the hardest thing she had done in a long time. She had taken a major risk coming downstairs after curfew.

If he discovered just how far she’d gone in breaking the rules Mr. Smith wouldn’t be the only one dying tomorrow.

Chicago, Sunday, December 27, 7:00 a.m.

Victoria Colby-Camp poured another cup of coffee and held it tightly in both hands. She needed the warmth. The city remained blanketed in snow, but that wasn’t the reason she felt chilled to the bone.

Eight hours had passed with no contact from Riley Porter. Levi Stark, another of her investigators, and FBI Special Agent Lee Ross had lost visual contact on Riley before midnight. The tracking devices had been dumped in the parking lot of the rendezvous location.

There had been no word since that revelation.

Victoria had not slept in the same. Finally at six this morning she had joined her son, Jim, here at the office. There was little she could do, other than pray, but just being here made her feel more involved.

Words could not adequately describe the relief Victoria felt at her agency’s accomplishment over the holiday weekend. Sixteen children had been recovered. But the recovery had not stopped this ruthless organization.

She exhaled a heavy breath and moved across the lounge to peer out the window. Daylight had crept across the snow-laden streets, but the sun remained veiled by the heavy clouds. More snow was on the way.

She thought about the file on Tessa Woods the Bureau had provided. The Bureau contacts in Mississippi had insisted on notifying the family. Victoria had considered the move a mistake despite the fact that Von Cassidy, a trusted Colby Agency investigator, had been nearly certain the blonde woman she’d encountered had been Tessa Woods. There was still a chance it wasn’t her.