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“They’d still need someone to help sabotage the project from within,” I pointed out. “Possibly someone working in Amsterdam, and maybe even at the lab in Montana.” At least a few traitors.
“And we still don’t know if the other eleven countries had their private labs hit, too,” Gray said. “If they hit all twelve independent labs, that’d make this one of the most well-coordinated attacks I’ve ever heard of before.”
“More than likely narrowing our suspect list to an enemy state,” I said in agreement.
“A wealthy, oil-based country with billions to lose if cold fusion’s successful could also be behind this, and it may have nothing to do with the EMP weapon aspect,” Diana tossed out her own theory. “An oil-rich nation would have the means and motive.”
“We can’t rule out anything.” You’re brilliant, and that option is horrible as well. “We should consider all motives and everyone a suspect until we know more.”
“Our best lead right now is Alyona’s blackmailer,” Mya said. “I’ll touch base with Natasha and Gwen to see where we’re at on that.”
I reached into my pocket, wrapping my hand around Alyona’s phone while focusing on Diana. One more part of the plan still needed to be put into place. Record a video of Diana for the blackmailer . . . and I’d need to tie her up to do it. Fucking hell.
36
DIANA
The legs of the chair screeched, creating tracks through the dusty floor as Carter dragged it across the room. He positioned it against a windowless concrete wall and dropped a black duffel bag by his booted feet.
“Are you okay?” It was my first time being alone with him since he’d marched from the room back in Latvia, intending to kill those two men.
His back went stiff at my question, but he didn’t face me. “Not really. I have to strap you to this chair and take a video of you for Alyona’s blackmailer. I’m sure you’re as eager to do this as I am after being held hostage and tied up all week.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I approached him and reached for his shoulder. He whirled around, capturing my wrist mid-air as if I’d been about to hurt him.
His nostrils flared as he zeroed in on my wrist, then his eyes went wide as he let me go.
The definition of “not okay” was written into every line of his face and body. His quick, almost angry reaction had to be based on more than the burden of tying me to a chair to make a fake hostage video.
I didn’t even think it had to do with our kiss—a kiss I’d replayed on repeat the entire drive there, pretending to sleep so my face didn’t give me away.
“Rebecca,” I whispered, once he calmed down a bit. “What you heard couldn’t have been easy.”
He turned his focus to the little blue chair, as if acquiring a new target, and gruffly replied, “The woman lied to me more than she was honest with me. I’ve long ago learned to accept that. I’m more concerned with why Rebecca suddenly gave a damn about solar storms, EMP bombs, and cold fusion at the time she did.”
There was so much more sitting between us I doubted he’d share. The fact he’d even spoken to me about her at all was shocking.
“Let’s just get this over with,” he said, pivoting quickly while kneeling alongside his bag, producing a?—
Rope. I had to ground myself in the moment so I didn’t start panicking.
I waited for the anxiety to eclipse logic and reason. For that rope to remind me of the true savages who’d taken me that week. Only . . . it didn’t seem to be coming. Instead, seeing this man’s strong hand holding the rope sent my stomach somersaulting in an entirely different way.
Am I turned on? I did a quick check to make sure the door was closed. The idea of someone seeing me bound didn’t exactly send a happy thrill up my spine. And yet, this man tying me up did. What in God’s name is wrong with me?
Standing now, he allowed the rope to unwind at his side before effortlessly making several loops like he was an expert in restraining people. “Why’d you ask me if I’m good?” he asked casually, catching me off guard with both his tone and question. “Aren’t you mad at me?”
My shoulders fell at the memory of our last exchange back in Lithuania. Or was it Latvia? I was losing track of where I’d been at this point. “No,” I admitted. “I’m not mad at you.”
He glared at me as if displeased by my answer, momentarily stopping twining the rope when catching me in a lie.
I didn’t want to be dishonest, so I revealed, “Okay, maybe you weren’t my favorite person when you decided to become all gloomy-killer-guy back at the other house. I was kind of angry.”
He didn’t cock his brow in question, and instead, a touch of a lopsided smile came and went. I’d take that adorable partial grin from this man. Then secretly hoped I’d successfully elicit a full-blown toothy smile from him one day. “Gloomy, huh?”
“That’s the part of what I said you’re latching on to?”
He returned to his work with the rope, going quiet on me.
