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Her knees shook so much she had to grip the edge of the credenza. Despite Max’s sudden burst of fury, she didn’t fear him. The man had saved her twice. But she did fear his words.
Maybe he was delusional. Maybe this was how Simon had started. Maybe she should fear Max Duvall.
“I don’t understand.” The words came out as a whisper even though that hadn’t been her intent. She had no more control over her voice than she did the terror galloping throughout her body.
He ran both hands through his hair, digging his fingers into his scalp. “I don’t see how I can be any plainer. Tempest is a deep undercover agency, so rogue the CIA is completely in the dark about its operations and methods. Tempest carries out assassinations and nation building all on its own, and these interests do not serve the US or world peace.”
“Then what is their purpose?”
As if realizing his close proximity to her for the first time, Max shuffled back, retreating to the window, wedging a shoulder against the glass.
“I don’t know. Tempest’s overall goal is a mystery to me.”
“If Tempest is so evil, why are you one of its agents? You said you were recruited, but why’d you stay? There’s no way the agency could keep you in the dark, not...not like me.”
She held her breath, bracing for another outburst. Instead, Max relaxed his rigid stance. His broad shoulders slumped and he massaged the back of his neck.
“You really have no idea, do you? You haven’t figured it out yet.”
A muscle beneath her eye jumped, and she smoothed her hands across her face. She sipped in a few short breaths, pushing back against the creeping dread invading her lungs.
“Why should I know? You haven’t explained that part to me. You’ve made some crazy, wild accusations, throwing puzzle pieces at me, expecting me to fit them together when I haven’t even processed the mass murder I just witnessed.”
Her knees finally buckled and she grabbed for the credenza as she sank to the carpet.
Max’s long stride ate up the distance between them, and he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? We should’ve saved this conversation for morning, after some sleep and some food.”
When she didn’t respond, he nudged her. “Can you stand up?”
She nodded, but the muscles in her legs refused to obey the commands from her brain.
He crouched beside her, slipping one arm across her back and one behind her thighs. She leaned into him and he lifted her from the floor and stood up in one motion.
He was careful to hold her body away from his as he carried her to the bed, but for her part she could’ve nestled in his arms forever. She wanted him to hold her and tell her this was all a joke.
He placed her on the bed with surprising gentleness. “Why don’t you get some sleep, and we’ll talk about this over breakfast?”
She grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Tell me the truth. Tell me the whole ugly truth about what we were doing in that lab and why you stayed with Tempest.”
He backed up and eased onto the edge of the bed across from hers. He blew out a long breath. “I stayed with Tempest even after I discovered their agenda because they wanted me to. Tempest controlled my mind and my body. They still do.”
“No.” Ava squeezed the pillow against her body, her fingers curling into soft foam.
“It’s a form of brainwashing, Ava, but it goes beyond the brain. It’s my body, too.” He pushed up from the bed and plucked up a lamp with a metal rod from the base to the lightbulb. He unplugged it and removed the shade. Gripping it on either side with his hands, he bent it to a forty-five-degree angle. Then he held up the lamp by the lightbulb, which had to still be hot, and didn’t even flinch.
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Dr. Arnoff’s vitamin formula—stronger, faster, impervious to pain.”
He released the bulb and the distorted lamp fell to the floor. He examined his hand. “So, he did tell you.”
“That’s what he was working on, but he told me it was years from completion.”
He held up his reddened palm. “He completed it.”
“What you’re telling me—” she swung her legs over the side of the bed “—is crazy. You’re saying that Dr. Arnoff’s formula created some kind of superagent and that Tempest sent these agents out into the world to do its bidding?”
