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“Can you make it to the SUV,” she asked as she looked past a set of rolling trash bins to the pedestrian door on the far side of the space.
“Yes,” he answered roughly. “I can.”
Lydia took his arm anyway.
I love you, she thought at him.Now and forever, you’re mine.
“We’re going to find Gus,” Daniel vowed as they shuffled along. “And if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to make this right.”
She didn’t know how to respond to the vow.
No, wait. She did.
Reality was cruel, however, and reminding him of all he was limited by was mean. Besides, he knew the truth.
That was why he was drawing such a hard line.
This time, when they came up to a portal, she was the one who had to open it for them. Just the short distance from the kitchen had drained him of energy, and it was funny how you could miss arguing with your partner.
Not funny at all, actually.
THREE
IHAVE SOMETHING MOREfor you. Do you remember what it is?”
As the question was put out there, it was a tough call what language the words were in. The syllables were from a Romance-based system of communication, sure, but other than that—
“I asked you a question, Dr. St. Claire. Can you guess what it is?”
No, the shit was English. Just with an accent.
Gus opened his eyes. Or tried to—unless, wait… no. His eyes were open, it was his vision that was fucked. And what do you know, he didn’t need his HMS diploma to know blindness, in a person who had been sighted, was bad news—
“What do you want, man,” he said through lips that were swollen from bruising.
When the hell had he been punched? Where the hell was he? As he sent the questions upstairs to his gray matter, his brain was sluggish, his memorypatchy. Likewise, the sensations in his body were distilled through a filter of numbness, nothing but echoes of aches and pains registering. Which given how fucked he felt was probably a good thing—
“You gave me something,” he mumbled.
“Sodium pentothal,” said the male voice.
Truth serum? What thefuck.
From out of his sensory swamp, he babbled, “Is this a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie? And it’s sodium thiopental. So you really are European, huh.”
“My accent betrays me.”
“That and the fact that the compound was outlawed for production in the U.S. in January of 2011 and there can be no official importation from European sources, either.” He frowned—and promptly cut that out because it made his eye sockets throb even more. “Then again… you don’t worry about the law, do ya.”
There was a pause. “I’m afraid you’re rather strong-willed, Dr. St. Claire.”
“Been called worse.”
“Indeed. Well, we are going to have to provide you with a secondary dose.”
Gus laughed in a burst—and then grimaced as his ribs hurt. “Careful,” he grunted. “You might kill me.”
“I shall be of great care.”
