Sleeping With Danger. Wendy Rosnau
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his hand into her hair and grabbed on. Melita cried out in pain and dropped to her knees at his feet.
He said, “You have never been, and never will be, in a position to make a deal with me.” He let go of her and she slumped forward. “Ask me for your forgiveness. Say it, damn you, or I will slaughter that herd of hairy beasts within the hour.”
She knew he would do it. Would make her watch.
Tears began to fall and she couldn’t stop them. She gulped air, whispered, “Forgive me, father?”
“I didn’t hear that.”
Melita cleared her throat. “I said, forgive me, father.”
He reached down as if he were going to touch her head, the act of a caring father who was sorry he’d lost his temper. Instead he grabbed her arm and hauled her back to her feet.
“Pick flowers. Play with your goats. Name every damn one of them. But if you want to save Hector a bloody ending, you will keep yourself within the boundaries of Minare. And when I return to the island, I will expect you to greet me wearing shoes and looking like my daughter, not some island waif.”
When he let go of her, Melita stumbled back into the balcony railing. Righting herself, she heard voices in the distance. She scanned the trail that lead to the sea, and saw one of her father’s guard patrol cruisers had docked.
“Are you expecting company?” she asked, drying her eyes with the back of her hand. She prayed it was Simon. She needed to see him. Needed to make sure he was all right, and to tell him she forgave him for his part in Nemo’s death.
“Inside, Melita. You are to stay up here the rest of the day.” When she didn’t move, he pulled her away from the balcony. “Inside.”
Melita obeyed her father, but the minute he left the tower, she was back out on the balcony straining her neck to see who had arrived.
There had been no visitors to Minare for months except for Holic Reznik. Please, God, she prayed, let it be Simon.
To her disappointment, the man who came ashore looked nothing like Simon. But then no one looked like her white-haired, albino brother.
The stranger wore his black hair to his shoulders, and he was being escorted by two guards. He walked ahead of them shuffling forward like an old man. Or maybe he was crippled.
As she continued to watch from the tower, Melita realized that the man was neither old, crippled, or a friend of her father’s.
What hindered his normal stride was a pair of iron manacles around his ankles.
Chapter 3
The double-agent scenario wasn’t a new idea. Regeneration, better known as brainwashing, had been around in the spy world for decades. But a year ago Cyrus had decided to take the theory a step further. He’d spared no expense on the latest technology—the bowels of Minare now looked like a space-age conspiracy.
Every genius plan had problems to iron out. A week ago those problems had allowed his guinea pig to slip through his fingers. But it wouldn’t happen again. He knew what had allowed Jazmin Grant to escape him.
Human nature, or what he referred to as the lust factor, could be a secret weapon or could short-circuit a double-agent’s brainwashing at a crucial moment. But not this time. With Sully Paxton, he planned to take the problem out of the equation.
Cyrus stepped into the lab and stopped in the doorway. He had come to tell Barinski that Sully Paxton had arrived and that they would begin the regeneration procedure again. The idea of snatching up Merrick’s elite agents and regenerating them one by one put a smile on his face.
“Barinski?”
When the doctor didn’t answer, Cyrus walked into the animal room where all the research and theories were tested out on lab rats. He found Barinski coddling one of the rats, talking to it like the damn thing understood every word he said.
“Perhaps you need to invest in a hearing aid, or I should install a bell on your door,” Cyrus said by way of introduction.
Unaware that anyone had entered his sanctum, Barinski jumped and let out a startled cry. His squawk of surprise frightened the rat. The rodent clamped down on Barinski’s finger. The doctor squealed again and dropped the rat, allowing it to scurry out the door.
Cyrus swore. He hated rats. Hated everything about them. He’d existed on a steady diet of rodents in Prague for months after Merrick left him to die. Since then he hadn’t been able to look at a rat without remembering his desperation.
“I want that thing found. You know what I’ll do to it if I find it first.”
Barinski winced at Cyrus’s words, then at the blood dripping from his finger. He pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his baggy pants and wrapped it around the injury.
“Is there something you came to discuss with me?”
“Paxton’s here.” Cyrus tossed a file on Barinski’s worktable. “Everything you need is there.”
“What kind of shape is he in?”
“Better than I expected. There’s a picture in the file of him when he was pulled from the pit. It’s not the same man who came off the boat today. But I’m not surprised. Adolf Merrick scoured the countryside to find Paxton and five others just like him. They are the toughest bastards alive. Adolf Merrick’s pride and joy. And because they are, I want them. All of them, starting with Paxton.”
His latest plan was perhaps one of his most ingenious. The concept of Sully Paxton’s allegiance being stripped from Onyxx was perfect revenge. It would also aid him—a man in his line of work could always use an elite private army ready to serve his cause. They would kill whomever he needed silenced, and his shipments would always be delivered on time, whether it was guns, drugs, or the blueprints of the latest, most indestructible submarine.
Yes, Paxton would be the first. After he’d seized control of Merrick’s elite fighters, he would poach both government and private agencies all over the country.
“I’ve gone over your notes concerning the emotional malfunction of Jazmin Grant. Our success in converting these agents is contingent on complete surrender, both body and mind. Physically it won’t be hard to bring Paxton back to the iron man he once was. He’s halfway there.”
Cyrus had instructed his men at Vouno to put Paxton through hell. From the day he’d captured Sully Paxton at Castle Rock he’d had him beaten and tortured, and anything else he could do to him to make him scream.
From personal experience he knew that what didn’t kill a man always made him stronger. And now Paxton was even more indestructible than ever before.
“Your job will be stripping his memory and reprogramming him. But before you get started I want to ensure that he doesn’t end up like Grant.”
“Grant’s problem was—”
“I know what the problem was. The lust factor made her vulnerable. It got in the way of her loyalty to me.”
“Lust factor?” Barinski was staring at him like an idiot.
“She surrendered to her sexual attraction for Ash Kelly if you remember,” Cyrus reminded him. “I don’t want the same thing happening again. That’s why I’ve decided my army of stallions are going to be gelded. Starting with Paxton.”
Barinski was hesitant in his response. “I’ve never performed a surgery like that.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out.”
“Yes, of course, but—”
“You have two months to turn Paxton into a human robot.”
“Two months. If I worked day and night it would take me twice that long.”
“You’re selling Paxton short. He’ll be ready in two months.”