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"That's what I said. Use your nose. Sniff him out."
"Like a bloodhound."
Winsloe glanced over sharply at my tone. "Yes, like a bloodhound. Is that a problem?"
Of course that was a problem. I was a person, not an animal, not a sideshow attraction. I didn't perform for anyone's amusement. I wanted to say so, but the edge in Winsloe's voice dared me to defy him. I didn't have the guts. Or, more accurately, my instinct for self-preserv
ation was too strong. I remembered Winsloe's reaction when I'd slapped his hand away in the shower and knew I couldn't afford another show of defiance. That didn't mean I'd betray Armen. I might have to track him, but I didn't have to find him.
Flanked by guards, I followed Winsloe downstairs to the cell block. Two more guards waited outside Armen's cell. Inside, Tucker knelt beside a guard, who sat on the floor, cradling his head. The guard looked familiar, but I couldn't put a name to him. The only time I ever bothered to note a guard's name was when he'd done something to distinguish himself from the others. Most hadn't.
"Did you find out what happened?" Winsloe asked, in a voice that implied he didn't give a damn what had happened, he only wanted to get on with the hunt.
"Seems like Haig made himself a weapon," Tucker said. "Something sharp, like a knife. Caused a commotion when my men were doing their rounds, then pulled this weapon on them when they opened the door. Knocked Ryman here out cold. Must have taken Jolliffe along to get past security. Ryman's okay, but we'd better move if we want Jolliffe alive. We'll need to track him. I've sent Pendecki to get the tracking--"
"No need," Winsloe interrupted. "I've got a world-class tracker right here."
Tucker looked at me and frowned. "That's one of my men out there, sir. With all due respect, I don't think we should fool around--"
"Fool around?"
Tucker's jaw clicked as if biting something back. "I didn't mean it that way ... sir. I'm concerned about--"
"Of course you are. So am I. That's why I brought Elena. Ryman, feeling up to joining us?"
Ryman struggled to his feet. "Yes, sir."
"I think--" Tucker began.
"Don't think," Winsloe cut in. "That's not what I pay you for. Come on, Ryman; we'll see if we can't get this bastard. Maybe get you a little payback for that goose egg on your head."
Outside the compound, Winsloe dismissed the two guards accompanying me, leaving only the injured Ryman. I wondered at this, knew it wasn't a good sign, but was still too sleep-drugged to make sense of it. Other thoughts clogged my tired brain. Armen had made a weapon? He'd attacked a guard? Knocked him unconscious? Was this the same Armen who'd been looking to me to provide the brute force for an escape?
As we headed into the woods, someone shouted "Hey!" behind us. Ryman whirled, gun poised, reflexes unhampered by any lingering effects from his head injury. No one was there. Dead grass crackled farther up the path, and we all spun back around to see Xavier twenty feet away.
"Easy, soldier," Xavier said, hands in the air. "Don't be shooting the friendlies."
"I should," Ryman muttered. "Teach you a lesson."
"What's up?" Xavier asked, sauntering toward us. "I hear Haig made a break for it. We doin' the search-and-rescue thing? Or the search-and-destroy thing?" He saw me and stopped. "Whoa, what's wolf-girl doing out of her cage?"
I glowered at him. He sidestepped fast, as if ducking my glare, then bobbed back grinning.
"That's one lethal look you have there. Deadlier than Ryman's bullets." He turned to Winsloe. "So what's the deal? Fun and games time? Can I play?"
"Maybe next time," Winsloe said.
"Oh, come on. Don't be a spoilsport. I wanna play."
"Yeah?" Ryman said. "How about you be the practice target?"
Winsloe waved Ryman to silence. "That's enough. Back inside, Reese. I said, next time."
"Fine." Xavier rolled his eyes, then vanished. Obviously someone else who knew enough not to push Winsloe.
"Are we still on track, Elena?" Winsloe asked.
"Hmmm? Oh, right." I sniffed the air. "Yes, Ar--Haig was here. With someone else."
