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“Then what was that?”
He growled and muttered in Zyanthan while not looking at her. “I’m trying to find a balance here, Magdalena, between what I want and what the gods have told me I cannot have. I made a suggestion, nothing more. I’m merely saying I could learn more about human culture by seeing you in the clothing you described. And out of it.”
“Couch your words however you want, Z, but you are definitely flirting.”
“I’m being clear about my preferences,” he said as he took one final look around the area before heading into the warehouse. The desolate area reminded Maggie of a graveyard.
The perfect place for a discreet meeting.
The warehouse looked familiar, but Maggie couldn’t place it. Stale air carrying the slight scent of chemicals made her nose scrunch as she entered. Piles of banged-up, worn-out farm equipment including old generators leaking machine oil and fuel filled the warehouse in a haphazard maze of twists and turns.
“Do you recognize the place?” Zirkov asked, motioning her to venture further in. Having him with her helped her ignore the gnawing sense of foreboding.
She edged past the machinery to the center of the warehouse, where a ray of sunshine lit a pile of broken mufflers. The sun warmed her face. It had been sunny that day too. But the air had been cool. The way a stiff salty breeze hits off the Pacific Ocean in the Early morning, before eight a.m.
“I’ve been here before,” she whispered.
“The day Bu’Tay was murdered?”
“You think I killed him.”
“Did you?” he asked with the casual indifference she’d first experienced from him two years ago. She thought they’d become friends—more than friends—since then. The way they’d made love the other night convinced her they had a real chance at a future together. But seeing that stony expression on his face now, she knew the truth.
“This was a setup. You’re not meeting Sutherland. You brought me here to see my reaction.”
“Answer the question, Ms. Walsh,” Zirkov said.
She glared at him. “Why should I?”
“Because you were here! I smelled your scent near the dead og’dal. And in all the days that followed, you never once told me you’d been here. Explain why you failed to notify me, or anyone at the DAA that you were with the og’dal when he died.”
“Zirkov, please don’t push me on this.”
“If the og’dal attacked you, then it’s self-defense.”
Her hands clenched. “I don’t remember!”
He grabbed her upper arms. “Focus! You have the memories. Why didn’t you tell anyone you were here?”
“I thought I killed him!” Anger colored her cheeks. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I need to know what happened, Maggie,” he said, softer as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “All of it, in your own words.”
Maggie jerked free of his hold. “How dare you pretend to like me just to get information! You could have asked me. Marshal to marshal. I would have told you everything I remembered.”
“You’ve avoided my questions and lied to me. Tell me why you killed an unarmed og’dal!”
“How dare you accuse me of killing in cold blood?”
“I’m giving you a chance to convince me of your innocence. Do not squander it.”
“Squander it?” She huffed as she marched past the row of dismantled forklifts and headed straight for the door. When she placed her hand on the handle, she spun around to face him.
“When I woke up standing over the og’dal’s body, I thought I’d killed him. I was holding a bloody knife that matched his wounds. I couldn’t remember why I was here or how I got here. Now I know. Whoever put that damn device in my head forced me to come here that night. But I didn’t kill Bu’Tay!”
“How can you be sure?”
Tears flooded her eyes. “Do you really think I’m capable of killing someone in cold blood?” Her heart sank when he didn’t answer.
