Illicit Intuitions: Sensory Ops, Book 3 (16 page)

“You said you had something for us.”

“Yes.” Fighting to keep his eyes open against the light, H waved to the chairs before his desk. He unlocked the middle drawer, pulled out some paper envelopes and tossed them on the desk. “I was shot at yesterday morning. The bullets are in there.”

“You could’ve turned this over to the locals.”

“After your visit, I had the impression you wouldn’t take as long to find answers.” He pushed the drawer closed and braced his elbows on the desk, more to support himself than anything else. Holding his shields in place was draining him. Fast.

“You seemed to know something about whatever danger you think I’m in.” He nudged the envelope closer to them. “Here’s your next clue.”

“Why wait until today to call us?”

“I’ve been…busy.”

“You all right?” Agent Burgess leaned forward, eyes narrowed and alert. “You don’t look well.”

It was the first time the agent had said anything and while his question was innocent enough, he portrayed distrust. He expected evasions.

“I get these migraines every now and then. I’ll be fine.”

“Migraines?”

“Yes.” The mother bitch of migraines in this case. “In the event you missed the sign on the door, we specialize in empathic studies. Dealing with the intricacies of the human brain gets complicated.”

“So, are you an emapth?”

“You catch criminals.” H leaned forward. His head felt light and floaty in an almost detached sort of way he might not mind without the lances of pain searing his brain.
 

“Yes.”

“Are you one?”

Agent Burgess smiled and dipped his head—a silent touché. “Fair enough.” He picked up the envelopes and stood. “We promised your assistant to keep it short.”

“Thank you.”
 

“We’ll need a full report.”

“Not today.”

They stood. Not sure his legs would support him and unwilling to do a face plant in front of the Feds, H remained seated. Agent Lawson adjusted his jacket while Burgess held the envelopes in a manner to avoid smudging any prints.
 

“Was anyone else involved in the shooting?” Agent Lawson asked.

“Yes.” Both agents flinched back before stopping themselves. “A woman auditing my study.”

“Could we speak with her?” Lawson pulled a notebook out.
 

“I will ask her to contact you.” They were testing him, fully expecting him to hedge on the answer or omit the truth. Why did they doubt him? Because experience told them to doubt everyone, or because they’d formed an unfavorable opinion of him?
 

“We’d appreciate that.” They took a couple steps toward the door.
 

Agent Burgess turned back. “Do you have any enemies, Dr. H?”

“You’re looking for a man I know as Janus.” He was stepping onto a rickety limb to tell them what he knew, but with Ava in pain he didn’t have time to face the fight alone. “I knew him when I was a boy.”

He hadn’t just known Janus. He’d suffered numerous torments from the man.

“Can you tell me anything else?”

“He’s good at disguises and if you catch him you could tie him to some child abductions.”
Mine and my sister’s for starters.

“How do you know this man?” Lawson asked.

H’s pain barraged his shields, trembling them. “It’s not important right now. Janus implies a threat and sets his target’s nerves on edge. Like approaching a young girl outside of school and trying to lure her into his car, or shooting more with the intent to scare than harm.” He quickly told the agents about Janus’s tactics, his words slurring more the longer he fought his body.
 

Agent Burgess jotted notes.
 

“After allowing a short breather—enough time for his victims to almost convince themselves it was nothing—he strikes from a new direction. Often in a less blatant manner.” Like posing as a school substitute in his class or attacking Ava mentally. Even without empathic abilities Janus’s ability would cause her moods to shift unexplainably.

“His final move,” H continued, “if he still follows his patterns, will be to come in the form of a distraction.”
 

In the case of their abduction, Janus filed an anonymous report that their father was abusing them. He’d used his power to project such raw hatred onto the responding cops they’d refused to hear the truth.
 

With their father in prison and their mother struggling to free him, he and Dana had been vulnerable. Their mom had taken them to the precinct to keep them close, but Janus and another man had walked them right out the front doors.
 

That attack had been two days after Janus had posed as a sub. Following his methodology, H had just under two days to get himself back to full power, brace Ava for the abilities she was coming into and nail down the specifics of her involvement with Whitestone.

Agents Lawson and Burgess nodded their acceptance and moved again toward the door. Whether they believed him or not didn’t matter. His shields were quivering. A blue haze was edging into his vision.
 

They needed to go. “I’ll be in touch if I think of anything more.”

As if on cue, Dana knocked once and opened the door. “If you gentlemen are ready to leave, I will show you out.”

Agent Lawson flashed a friendly smile that did nothing to minimize his jaded edge. “I think we’re finished for now.”

They were finished, but neither agent moved to leave. Unspoken questions weighed in their minds, darkening the air with a swirling vortex of anticipation and concern. Whatever they were waiting for, they would be disappointed.
 

“Dr. H, you’re clear.” Dana held her hand aloft, indicating the exit. “Gentlemen, time’s up.”

“Thank you, Dana. Let me know when I’m needed.”

She nodded as the agents walked into the hallway. The moment the door closed, his shields collapsed. The lingering concern, and oddly enough fear, left behind by the agents seeped into him.
 

He dropped his head to the desk and slid his hand toward the lamp to turn it off. The couch would be more comfortable, but he didn’t have the strength to get there.
 

Fear. It seemed like an out-of-place emotion for the Feds, especially since it hadn’t been for him or Dana. They’d each internalized it, but both men emanated a shared concern that more logically would have been his or Ava’s given how they had been the targets. So who were the agents worried about?

It didn’t make sense for Ava to be targeted by Janus if she was one of them. Still, he couldn’t ignore what he’d overheard that afternoon from the study participant. If Ava was part of Eston White, if she was playing an elaborate game with him, he wouldn’t hesitate to protect himself and Dana.
 

He would lose nothing else to Whitestone.
 

Ava sat on the edge of the cot-like bed in the same slacks and cotton blouse she’d slipped on that morning. She checked her watch in the muted light coming from sconces set high in stark white, padded walls and frowned.
 

Six o’clock. Evening? Morning? How much time had she lost?
 

Rubbing her forehead, trying to remember where she was, she slumped beneath an onslaught of blankness. She recalled feeling a little like she was going crazy, but to actually wake up in a windowless room with padded walls? It seemed a little extreme.

And who’d brought her?

She tugged a patch of hair at her temple, using the pain to clear the web of confusion, and forced herself to focus. She’d gone to report to Breck. There’d been pain. Lots of pain. Then Kami and more blinding pain.

Kami. Kami had brought her…to H.

The padding-covered door had a small rectangular window at eye level. The only other furniture was a small round table with two heavy-duty, plastic-looking stools. She wasn’t even going to think about the commode and sink in the corner.
 

She stood. Dizziness crashed like rushing waves over her. She braced her feet and held herself up by willpower. Bumbling step by bumbling step, she jerkily moved to the door. Her energy waned.
 

Struggling to lift her hand through the Jell-o-thick air, she gripped the doorknob. It wouldn’t turn. She had nothing but the clothes on her back, so busting out wasn’t an option. She was trapped.
 

Locked in a padded prison like a pariah.
 

Why? What was happening to her?

After peering through the window and seeing only more white walls beyond, she stumbled back to the cot before she buckled beneath the building pressure. Sitting again, she rubbed her neck and dug into her memory for more detail.

She’d been fine at home, but had started feeling odd and conflicted on the way to the office. Breck had been angry and scared. Then she had been in such agony she’d nearly collapsed. Then Kami had been there, taking her to H’s lab. A lab she’d toured on her first day without seeing this room.
 

So where was she now? And where was her stuff? Her gun?

Kami. Kami had her purse, badge and weapon. Being without her belongings was only good for identity protection. Without her weapon, she would have to rely on her hand-to-hand training.

Low-toned beeps preceded clicking metal. Her gaze darted to the door. She saw no one through the window. The handle turned with a slow grind.

Her heartbeats slowed with a cautious anticipation and she glanced around for anything she could use as a weapon. Nothing.

Shit.
She was an unarmed FBI agent in a padded room with no escape. She was in no position to protect H or keep her promise to Kami. She was stranded without the backup of her team. She wasn’t going to ask if it could get worse. It would.
 

H pushed open the door and stepped inside. Relief swept like a tidal wave over Ava, but was immediately replaced by suspicion.
 

She should be able to stick with relief. She was with the man she’d asked for. Clearly he’d done something to help her with whatever had caused her agony, but she was better. She needed to get back to work. She needed to leave. She shouldn’t have been locked in a padded room.
 

“You look better.” Sincerity slumbered in his tone. Subtle darkness marred his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”
Strong enough to kick your ass if necessary.

 
H nodded and closed the door with a definitive click. “We need to talk.”

“Talk?” Butterflies danced in her belly with razor-tipped wings battling for escape. She stiffened her spine. “You mean about why you’ve locked me in a padded room? Where’s my stuff? Are we at your lab?”

“It was for your own security.”

“Some security.” She preferred the security of her gun.
 

Intense and stoic, he went to the table and scooted out a stool. “Are you involved with Eston White?”

“The research lab? No.” The longer she sat the clearer her mind became. The weight of exhaustion sapping her muscles eased. A few more minutes and she would have enough energy to bust past him if need be. “Why would you ask that?”

“Someone in the new study recognized you as one of their lab techs.”

“Someone is mistaken.” Or intentionally tying her to the tracks while making a bid for H’s trust. But who? Of everyone she’d seen during the interviews only two stood out in her mind, but neither had been familiar. Neither had seemed surprised to see her, or showed any signs of recognition.

“That someone seems to be you. The claim was confirmed.”

Covert attempts at undermining her cover would only hinder her success if she failed to respond correctly. H seemed willing to help with whatever was happening with her, but they needed some basis of trust to make real progress. The trouble was choosing the correct response.
 

“I was never a lab tech for Eston White.” The best covers were based on truths. She would go with it. “Though it’s possible I would have been seen there.”

He lunged back. “Excuse me?”

“Until recently I worked for a division of Eston White. Whitestone.”
 

The pulse in his throat kicked, but he remained still and controlled. “What changed?”

He sounded guarded. Even more so than when she’d guessed his name. It wasn’t such a stretch he and his sister had been taken all those years ago by Eston White. Actually, it made perfect sense. It explained how he’d appeared with his credentials fully in place while lacking the evidence of having attended school.
 

He would’ve been overseen by General Scott, though from what she’d heard, escaping the general was more impossible than breathing underwater without an air tank and mask.
 

So how had H and Dana gotten free? What was the general plotting? What did H think about once again being targeted by Whitestone?

“I saw the truth of how they did business. Saw their willingness—hell, their eagerness—to kill innocent men and women fighting for righteous convictions. Saw how I had been a tool in their manipulative belts, doing their bidding.”