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She stared at the girl strapped to the gurney. Wild light blue eyes were wide, panicked, as the two male figures stepped to the narrow bed.
She saw Jansen Clay, his blond hair perfectly styled, amused derision on his face as he glanced at the man on the other side of the bed.
Risa couldn’t see his face from where she stood. Only his back. And no matter how badly she wanted to stare at him, to memorize whatever she could of this dream, still her attention was held by the woman who whimpered in distress.
“I don’t know why you don’t just kill her.” Risa flinched at the cold disgust in the other man’s cultured voice. He spoke as though his mouth was pursed and wouldn’t stretch around the words.
“She serves a purpose for the moment.” Jansen shrugged. “Besides, if I kill her, I’ll no longer have access to the trust fund her mother and grandfather left her. She does have an incredible amount of money. It returns to her grandmother if anything happens to her.”
“So kill the grandmother,” the other man ordered callously. “What good is she to you?”
“Matricide?” Jansen mused. “I’m not quite ready to step over that line as of yet.”
Yet he’d had no problem in his attempt to slowly kill off his daughter.
“Matricide would be the least of your crimes, Clay.”
Jansen laughed. “And what of your crimes, my friend? I may have no love for my daughter, but neither have I allowed her to become part of the horrific experimentations you so enjoy with the little girls you buy. Really, one shouldn’t cast stones.”
The other man’s back stiffened. “Science,” he stated. “I’ve made breakthroughs with those girls. They’ve contributed to science. Your victims have only contributed to your own wealth.”
Jansen’s expression was filled with skeptical mockery.
“Spare me the condescension and get on with this little experiment,” Jansen ordered. “I have a party to attend later and I’d prefer not to be too late.”
Large hands reached for her arm. Risa focused on those hands even as she tried to stare up into his face. She whimpered desperately as the girl in the dream tried to fight those beefy hands as they lifted her arm.
“I’ll remember you.” The dream Risa stared into his face. “I’ll remember you.”
He snorted as he laid the needle of the syringe against the vein in her wrist. “You’ll be lucky to remember your own name once we’ve finished this.”
“I’ll remember you.” Risa felt the words coming from her own lips even as she watched her dream self. “Your hands hurt me. They’re too big for surgery. Do you kill your patients?”
The hand paused. The syringe pricked at her flesh as the dream self glared up at him.
“If you do your job right, then she’ll never remember who you are,” Jansen chuckled.
“Do your job right,” Risa whispered as she stood behind him and focused on the hand, on the nipple. “Scars, like tiny lines in your hands. I know your hands. I’ve seen them before. They frighten me. I’ll remember you.”
She watched as her dream self tugged at the hold he had on her arm. The flesh trembled with the effort she exerted.
Yet she couldn’t escape. The syringe bit into her flesh and a second later boiling lava was fed into her veins.
She tried to scream. Risa watched herself. She didn’t feel the pain, but she saw it in the light blue eyes that suddenly rolled back in the dream Risa’s head. Her body jerked against the restraints that held her to the gurney as a strangled scream tore from her lips.
Risa watched herself. She watched as she bucked and heaved against the thin mattress. She couldn’t scream, but her lips parted as she tried. She fought to focus on Jansen. Risa knew she was fighting to beg, to plead with him for mercy.
“Daddy, please,” she wheezed. “Please, Daddy.”
And he laughed at her.
He was her father. He had never been a loving father, or an affectionate one. But until that kidnapping, she hadn’t thought he was truly a monster.
She watched, unaffected as her dream self writhed on the bed, trying to scream, lost in an agony Risa only dimly remembered.
“She’s in more pain than arousal, my good doctor,” Jansen drawled as they stood there forever, their attention going between her and the monitors that electrodes were hooked to. “You still have some adjusting to do, it seems.”
“Her heart is at critical level,” the doctor mused as he tapped her heart monitor. “You should allow me to open her heart, to see the damage it’s causing.”
