Page 49
DOYLE
Doyle had barely buckledhis dry pants when the message came to meet Nicole and company at the medcenter. He rushed to put on his clean plaid shirt and ran a hand through his mess of hair as he left his room.
When he arrived, Jones was sitting upright in bed, flanked by Nicole and Jackson. Doyle wasn’t sure if his pale complexion spoke more to nervousness at having the boss at his bedside or recovering from a coma.
Nicole turned, noticing Doyle, and motioned for him to join them.
“You look like shit,” he told Jones, unable to leave his opportunity unused. But the truth was, he was glad to see Jones awake and well.
“Thanks, Wally. You gonna do something about him talking that way to me?” Jones asked Nicole.
“That depends,” Nicole answered with a dangerous smile. “On whether you cooperate.”
Doyle wondered if threats were really necessary
Jones visibly swallowed, his throat bobbing as he stared back at Nicole. Surely, it was someone in the janitorial staff paid off to throw things out of whack in the control room. It felt too personal to admit someone he knew and worked with, annoying or not, could be capable of sabotaging everything he’d worked so hard on.
But Jones dipped his head a moment later, shaved spot all that remained of his injury after being tended to by the doc. “I think I need a lawyer.” Guilt filled the words.
“Shit.” Doyle sank onto the bottom of the hovercot, causing it to dip several inches before regaining its equilibrium. “Really Jones? Why?”
Jackson looked about to intervene when Nicole reached out and stilled him with a touch, shaking her head and nodding for Doyle to continue.
“You could’ve killed us. Or Stranded us in 1888!” Doyle screamed, pounding a fist down by one of Jones’s legs.
“I knew it wouldn’t kill anyone,” Jones muttered, then looked up enough to meet his eyes. “I’m not an idiot. I was aiming for the cloak. I assume I got it?” he asked. When Nicole nodded, he continued, “We back in 2117 yet? I demand a lawyer.”
Nicole scoffed. “I’m not the police. You have no rights with me.”
“Fuck me,” Jones mumbled.
“Why did you sabotage us?” Doyle asked, ignoring them both. It was Jones who owed the answers here.
“The reason any man does what he knows isn’t right,” Jones said, adjusting himself to sit straighter. “Good old-fashioned money and sex.” He laughed bitterly.
“Who paid you to do it?” Nicole barked.
Jones drew his lip into a line, but Doyle remembered the woman he’d seen leaving the room as he entered the morning of the launch. “Caroline something…Song, I think,” he mumbled, “purple hair.”
Nicole stood. “Computer, lock down all exits, let no one leave without authorization from myself or Jackson Meadows.”
“I’ll talk if you guarantee me amnesty,” Jones said as the computer acknowledged her.
Nicole ignored him, turning instead toward Doyle. “Good work, Dr. Doyle. We’ll take it from here. Jackson, have security search the entire resort for Caroline Song. I want her brought to me yesterday.”
“I have more information!” Jones yelled, struggling like he meant to stand up but thought better of it. “Make me a deal.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” Doyle said as the others left. “How about I don’t punch you in the face and you tell me everything?”
Gaze snapping to him, Jones swallowed. It was almost like Doyle could see the gears moving in his head like Teddy’s clock. The Doyle he remembered was soft, but a few days in Devil’s Creek had him appreciating the lost art of physical threats, and he supposed it showed on his face by the way Jones sunk back against the bed, cowering.
“She works for the Bennet’s competition. They wanted the resort sabotaged so they could have more time to get their own fantasy resort up and running.”
Doyle frowned. “There is no competition close to the tech the Bennets have.”
“That’s all I know. It’s real, though, because someone transferred a million credits to my private account before we left.”
Doyle whistled. “Guess you’ll be using it on your defense attorney when you go up against the Bennets.” After a pat on Jones’s leg, Doyle left the room.
