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With the exception of the woman recovering on the third floor, and the one now ignoring him, he had no one and nothing.
“I’m sorry for calling you a bitch,” he said, and he was. “My temper gets the best of me at times.”
“I’ve noticed.” She still didn’t look at him. “We all have our triggers—Sloane and Cal are mine. She’s yours.” Finishing her note, she glanced up. “You’re not the first, nor will you be the last man to storm in here and yell at me, by the way. Unlike Dr. Montgomery, I tend to get under people’s skin. Part of making sure everybody here is always safe is guaranteeing no one fails on a mission. No one. Not you, not Cal, not any of the others. I have to know without a doubt that you can and will complete every mission I give you. Unexpected things will happen and you have to be able to compensate for them in order to protect your teammates and this organization. Do you understand?”
What else was there to say? It pained him, but he nodded. “Understood. Still have a spot for me in this organization?”
She shooed him off. “You passed your test. Your probationary period is over. Now, go downstairs and have ice cream with my daughter. Ever scare her again and you will disappear. They will never find your body.”
“Roger that." He smiled to himself as he left her office.
Three dayslater
Food,rest, recovery. The classic three items needed after you’ve been dead and revived.
But Vivi couldn’t sleep, roaming the halls of Shadow Force International’s headquarters. Day and night, men and women came and went. Her room was on the third floor, and she often met others like herself who slept fitfully. All were polite but none seemed interested in who she was or why she was there.
She liked it that way. The cafeteria in the basement was small but was constantly stocked with delicious items. Either that, or she had consumed so much prison food anything tasted good at this point. She had gorged herself three times, her stomach unable to handle the richness after the crap she’d been eating and rejecting it. She hated vomiting; but it was worth it to consume anything and everything she could, anytime she wanted it. Eventually, her stomach would accept what she was putting down her throat. She’d lost a good ten pounds behind those iron bars, and she planned to put every one of them back on, plus a few more.
Recovering physically was one thing. She wasn’t sure if she would ever recover mentally or emotionally. Seeing Ian had made her both happy and sad. Beatrice had ordered him to leave Vivi alone until she was ready to talk. She was glad he’d moved on with his life, but the looks he’d given her the couple times she’d glimpsed him in the halls or cafeteria had shredded her heart.
Every nerve in her body felt hypersensitive, her defenses always on high alert. Logically, she knew this place was a fortress, but would she ever believe she was truly safe? Could she ever take her experience and turn it into something good, like Beatrice had?
Calling her by that name still felt odd, but she was definitely a different person than the former Bianca Marx that Vivi had known during her time with Command & Control. Seemed like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was.
Before Berlin. After Berlin. So much had changed the moment she had walked in to Lawrence’s compound.
Even with Beatrice’s order, Vivi suspected Ian was avoiding her. He’d never even looked back when he deposited her in the medical ward and Jaxon Sloan had taken over.
The physician had given her sleeping pills, but the thought of being that out of it scared her. She’d never liked feeling out of control, even when asleep. She hated dreaming, although she knew it was a door to the subconscious. Never letting on about her dislike to her patients, she’d probed theirs with strategic efficiency.
Time would heal her physical body, rebalance her stomach, and maybe even allow her to sink into a deep sleeping state at some point. Knowing Ian was around eased her stress and fear. He’d always made her feel safe, and though he didn’t want anything to do with her at the moment, she secretly sought him out. Watched him from the shadows, listened to his voice as he spoke to his friends and coworkers in the halls and cafeteria. She made sure he never saw her, but like a touchstone, his simple presence calmed her anxiety.
Three days. How much longer could she stay here? She hated being in anyone’s debt, but her mind palace was not cooperating. No matter how she tried to unlock a certain door, she couldn’t.
Standing outside of Beatrice’s office, she took a steadying breath.Time to face the music.
Bursting in, she huffed out what she needed to say. “I don’t remember.”
Beatrice had on a starched white shirt, just like Vivi remembered her always wearing. Her crystal blue eyes looked startled behind thick framed glasses, and her hair was carefully contained in a neat bun.
The dog next to the desk, a black lab named Maggie, lifted her head. Her pink studded collar twinkled under the lights.
A man was in a chair across from her, and sized Vivi up with a bored glance. He appeared older than most at SFI, with hard eyes and a scruffy beard, and he grabbed a tablet from the top of the massive desk as if his meeting with Beatrice was over, thanks to her. He slid it into a leather carrier attached to his chest and snatched up a set of crutches from the floor. “I managed to unfreeze the majority of your assets,” he said to Vivi as he struggled to his feet. “The rest will take more time.” He checked the expensive sports watch on his left wrist once he’d settled his armpits on the crutches. “Need another sixteen hours, give or take.”
Shaky on the crutches, but seemingly determined, he passed her. “What’s your favorite color?” he asked as he did.
“What?”
He met her eyes. “Simple question, Doc. What’s your favorite color?”
“Green,” she answered, sending Beatrice a questioning look.
He nodded and shut the door behind him.
Beatrice sat back and motioned her into the chair. “That’s Rory. Former CIA assassin. Don’t know if you ever met him in your time counseling spies.”
Vivi shook her head, glad she hadn’t.
