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Friday couldn’t think. Her brain had been fried from data overload. She knew any sane person in her position would focus on having mere hours to live, but all she could think about was the man she loved. He was hurt, bound and immobile in the back of the car, and there was nothing she could do to help him. She’d begged her captor to release him, but all he’d done was laugh.
She should never have dragged Striker into her mess. She should have found a hole to sit in after she took the poison and waited for death to come find her. After a lifetime of struggling against her circumstances, she should have learned that there was no happy ending for women like her. Women who were born without options.
From the moment she’d been dumped in front of the CommTECH headquarters as a baby, her life had been overshadowed by the company. Her education had been furnished by CommTECH at the expense of her freedom. Her work revolved around CommTECH. Her only friends, well, acquaintances, were all CommTECH employees. Hell, she’d even lost her virginity to a fellow CommTECH scientist on the floor of the company’s lab.
Her death would be courtesy of CommTECH, too.
Sure, she’d taken the poison, but they had done everything they could to make sure she didn’t get to the antidote. And now, it was too late. They’d won. CommTECH had won. And all her pathetic little rebellions were for nothing. Kane Duggan was right. There was no one to stop him, or CommTECH, from doing exactly what they wanted to do.
“Pull over there.” Her captor pointed at a generic cube of a building in an area that once had been filled with Spanish era houses. Now it was the staging post for a vast mining effort. They were raping the country under the noses of the watching world and getting away with it.
Kane’s eyes were flat and dull, his mouth a cruel line. “I’ve got a nice cell waiting for you and lover boy. It’s going to be entertaining to watch what you do with the few hours you have left. And then, when you’re gone, I’ll get rid of the infamous Striker. The Territory’s most famous smuggler. The man who can do anything, go anywhere—for a price.” He inclined his head. “But he couldn’t save you, could he? He couldn’t do that. I wonder what you paid him.” He gave her a slow considering look. “Did you promise him information or access to your body?”
She couldn’t stop the flush that hit her cheeks as she snatched her gaze from the monster.
Kane’s laugh was chilling as the car drew to a halt. “Tell me this, Ms. Jones—do you think he’ll mourn when you die?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you think anyone will mourn?”
She couldn’t hold his eyes and looked away. No. She didn’t think anyone would mourn her. Mainly, she thought they would feel relief that she was gone. Striker’s team as much as anyone else, because of all the trouble she’d brought down on their heads.
That would be her epitaph—Friday Jones, thankfully gone.
“Get them out,” Kane snapped. “Take them to the holding room. There are plenty of cameras in there. I think I’ll record your last hours together for my boss to watch later.”
She tried to stop the shudder his words provoked but didn’t succeed, which seemed to delight him further. The two men sitting behind her climbed out and walked around to the rear of the car. The man beside her grabbed her arm, pulling her from the vehicle.
She looked over to find the other two men had retrieved Striker from the boot. His body was limp, still paralyzed from being stunned. His hands were tied behind his back, his head hung down, and his ankles were crossed and secured. He was helpless.
Or was he?
His shoulders flexed. His hands clenched. Friday sucked in a breath. He was faking his weakened state. Why didn’t anyone notice? She glanced around as she was led from the car. Nobody was watching him, that was why. Nobody but her. And even then, she didn’t believe her eyes when she saw him move.
One second, he hung limply in his captors’ hold, the next he had one of their guns in his hand. Three shots rang out in quick succession. The two men beside him collapsed. It wasn’t until he grabbed her hand, pulling her with him as he ran, that she realized the man who’d held her was dead, too.
“Stop them!” Kane roared as they ducked between two buildings.
Blasts hit the wall above her head. A man ran at them. Striker fired, and the guy hit the ground. More blasts shook the building beside them. There were running footsteps. Shouted orders.
They headed to the rear of another small building, hitting the door at a run. It crashed open, and he wedged it shut behind them. They were in a vast storage unit. There was drilling equipment, generators, diggers, scanners—everything the well-equipped pillager would need to plunder a country of its resources.
Striker tugged her down behind a large piece of machinery. “We need to get out of here. We need a car, something that can get us to the airport.”
It physically hurt to look into his eye. She felt the pain right to the very center of her being. To her soul. This amazing man was still trying to save her when he should have left her behind and saved himself.
She placed her hand on his cheek. “You need to leave me here. It’s too late to get to the airport. It’s too late for me. You need to save yourself.”
He shook his head, furiously. “No. Don’ even say that to me. I’m takin’ you to New York. We’re gonna get that antidote.”
“Striker, honey.” Tears stung her eyes. “It’s only twelve hours until the poison kicks in. We won’t get to New York in time.”
“We will.” He grasped her shoulder with one hand. The other held the gun he’d stolen from his captor. “I worked it out. We only need nine hours. There’s still time.”
“We’re in the middle of CommTECH’s illegal mining operation. The sky is filled with a holomatrix. That means they can project whatever image they want up to the satellites, at the same time as watching every square inch of the land beneath it. They already know where we are. We can’t hide. We can’t run. Our only hope is that I surrender and distract them enough for you to slip out of here.”
“Listen to yourself! You’re tellin’ me to leave you. Do you hear that? How can you tell me to do that?”
“This was just a job. You did your job. I’m here in La Paz. It’s time for you to go.”
