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I threw him a hateful look. “I know that. You weren’t there. You don’t know how stern my father could be, cruel at times.”
It was at least a full minute before he said anything. “Why were you sent to an institution?”
“I already told you.”
“Not about the incident that put you there.”
“Because I stuck a knife in my father after an argument. I accused him of killing her. He laughed at me. He laughed. I lost it,” I admitted.
At least Cobra didn’t chastise me or call me evil, the very word my mother had used.
“I’m sorry, Isabella.”
“There’s no reason to be sorry. I’m fine now.” I was anything but fine. “Science gave me a purpose. That’s why this project is so important to me. It’s my life’s work.”
“Then you shouldn’t destroy it.”
“I refuse to allow it to get into the wrong hands.”
“We won’t.”
There was something even more powerful about his words, a promise made to a girl he knew nothing about and would likely vanish after finishing his assignment. I couldn’t blame him.
What he’d already figured out was that I was the bad seed.
My mother had been right.
I was evil.
* * *
Jagger
I watched her sleeping, barely able to take my eyes off her for a second. Every word out of her mouth accentuated her vulnerability. I took another swig of my drink, putting the pieces together of what she’d told me.
Who the hell was Isabella Adams? On paper she was brilliant, wealthy, and powerful in her own right. But underneath the façade, the carefully coiffed exterior that she presented to the world, she was a ticking timebomb. Without confirmation, I found it difficult to believe a portion of what she’d told me, but her conviction and hatred of her father was evident. I’d also observed his lack of real interest in his daughter’s welfare. That troubled me as much as what she’d told me.
Maybe more.
Was Frederick Adams merely going through the motions in order to save his daughter’s life? Or was he worried that whatever had occurred behind closed doors would prevent him from winning the election? I hated this shit more than anything. Isabella was fractured, some might say unstable, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t telling the truth.
Or her version of it.
Hell, I knew better than most what effect nightmares could have. Was every memory of the torture I’d endured real? I couldn’t accept it with any certainty given how much time I’d spent being out of it from lack of food and water, enduring the excessive heat and torment. I’d accepted only parts completely accurate, but that didn’t mean the visions hadn’t created irreversible damage.
Why had the two of us been put together? I had a nagging sense that it had been done on purpose. Did the fuckers think I’d fail? What I couldn’t do was fall into her line of thinking. Yet. I needed facts, not illusions that there was a government agency out to get us. However, it was painfully obvious that someone had been on the inside of her project, providing information to the asshole responsible for the death of far too many people.
Fuck this.
I yanked out my phone, making certain I hadn’t received a call from Jeremy. At least the reception was better than usual given the clear night. A part of me had wanted to abandon the house, finding a hotel room somewhere, but I had certain advantages staying put for now.
I shoved the remainder of my drink aside, walking toward the window. There’d been zero sign of any intruders, the cameras showing nothing. From what I’d been able to tell, she’d only been online for six minutes. Still, I was ready to get the hell out of here if for no other reason than to regroup and take time to sort through the bullshit. There were far too many details that didn’t add up.
As I peered through the blinds, I had an itchy feeling like I did every time one of the captors was headed in my direction. Fuck it. I hated this shit. The slight vibration of my phone forced me further on edge. Seeing Jeremy’s number allowed me to take a deep breath. “Yes?”
“I pulled in a few favors,” Jeremy said. “Wasn’t easy, so you owe me, buddy.”
“Yeah, I’ll buy you a cold one when I get there. Get me the particulars.”
