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Amber saved the good blankets for us. They were much lusher and softer than the ones we bundled the two men in, and I fell into a comfortable sleep with her in my arms. So comfortable, in fact, that I did not hear the vehicles approach.
I did not wake until the government agents broke into the house and surrounded us.
Chapter 16
Amber
Iawoke to a loud crash, which was followed by a cacophony of overlapping shouts, stomping feet, and strange, unfamiliar clicks.
I opened my eyes to find a group of men in suits and tactical gear standing around my bedroom, their various types of guns all trained on Q’on. I suspect the clicking I heard was the sound of safeties being released.
Q’on stiffened, and for a terrifying moment I worried he was going to attack these men. Thankfully, though, he didn’t rise up and strike, leaving the armed agents no reason to fire.
“Amber, I feel apologies are in order,” he said, not even bothering to whisper.
“What happened?” I ask, my eyes glued to the muzzle of a gun being held by Agent Wilson.
“The government man who came to your door the other day was in the bushes outside. I hesitated before giving chase, and he got away.”
Agent Wilson. He must have gotten some proof of Q’on’s existence to be able to bring a whole squad of agents here to capture him. I held the blankets up to my chin with a shaking hand, afraid to move.
“Please don’t take him,” I muttered, my voice trembling as much as the rest of me. “I need him. Don’t take him away from me, please.”
Agent Wilson scoffed. “You seriously think we’re not taking you, too? You’re contaminated; we’ll have to quarantine you.”
His words didn’t make any sense until I took note of the fact that all the men surrounding us wore gloves and masks. No full biohazard suits, but still overkill in my opinion. “Are you crazy?” I asked as the armed men moved closer. “He’s not infected with anything. He’s harmless!”
Some of the men tensed as I shouted, and if it wasn’t for Q’on putting a hand on mine to calm me, I might have jumped up to defend him.
“No, Amber. Keep still. They have weapons.”
“But—”
“I don’t want you hurt.”
AndIdidn’t want Q’on hurt, but he didn’t seem to care about that. I think the only reason he wasn’t striking out at the gunmen right then was that I might have gotten caught in the crossfire. It killed me that he got captured because of me.
Agent Wilson’s men cuffed Q’on and me with our hands behind our backs, and they led us outside to separate waiting windowless vans. I couldn’t even watch as they drove Q’on away; as soon as I was loaded up, they slammed the door shut tight, blocking out all light and preventing me from seeing where the other vehicle was headed. Would we be brought to the same location, or would they keep us separated? I hated not knowing.
The van bounced along the roads leading out of the lakefront area. I fought to stay upright on the narrow bench, a difficult feat with my hands bound behind me. My tits bounced uncomfortably with the movement of the van. I wasn’t given a chance to change clothes or pack a bag or anything. Not even a second to grab a bra. The agent sitting across from me in the van kept his mouth shut and his eyes straight ahead, so I didn’t feel comfortable asking for a jacket or something to cover myself. The heater in the van seemed busted, or maybe they just didn’t give a shit if I was freezing in my satin pajamas.
The irony of being ripped from the cabin just a day after Ryan tried to kill me for it was not lost on me. If he had just waited, he would have found it vacant, ripe for the taking. Cordoned off, most likely, but vacant.
My blood chilled as I remembered that Ryan and Evan were still in the shed. If the government agents found them …
No. I couldn’t panic. That wouldn’t help at all.
Since my hands were cuffed behind me, I couldn’t see my watch to tell how long we’d been on the road. I guesstimated about two hours, but who knows? They could’ve driven me in circles for most of that time and I’d never have known. All I did know was that when the van finally stopped, I had a mighty need to pee. I mentioned this to the agent in the back with me, but he just grunted and said, “Hold it, slut.”
Okay, no sympathy from that one. And I wasreallygetting tired of being called a slut.
Outside the van, I heard the muffled sounds of tires squealing, doors slamming, and men shouting. The faint clink of metal on metal echoed the noise my cuffs made when I moved, and I held out a dim hope that what I heard was Q’on being taken inside. We may be separated for now, but if they took us to the same place it meant I might see him again.
I made a move to get up from my bench seat to get out, but the agent shot out of his seat and jammed a hand into my shoulder, shoving me back down.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he shouted.
“Jesus Christ! I was just trying to stretch a bit.” I jerked my shoulder out of his grip. “We’ve stopped, so why can’t I get out yet?”
