“Where am I?” I asked.
“My house.”
That told me nothing. The man owned thirteen estates all over the world. “Which one?”
“New Mexico. Closest one to New Dallas.”
“You redecorated since I was last here.”
He nodded.
I arched a brow. “Would you care to tell me why I’m here instead of a hospital?” There were special hospitals specifically designed for agents like me: paid killers, as well as alien. I’d been a patient numerous times.
“One, you were delirious and I didn’t want anyone to hear the things that you were saying. You were moaning and groaning about your failure with EenLi. I want everyone to think you let him go on purpose. Two, I didn’t want your name on record as having received gunshot wounds. And three, I didn’t want anyone else brought in on this case.”
Though I was glad, I sighed deeply. I would have liked him to be able to sit back and simply bask in my success, no interference required. “Playing my protector again, Michael?”
He shrugged, but glanced away. “Actually,my boss thinks this situation works out for the best. EenLi used to work as an agent, and he—”
“What?” I blinked. Surely I had misheard.
“EenLi used to work as an agent. For me, specifically.”
I tried not to gape. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”
He shrugged again, the action stiffer, more clipped. “He was supposed to be an in-and-out job. I tell you what you need to know, and that was something you didn’t need to know.”
“A target’s trainingis a need to know. He probably knew he was being watched the entire time.”
“I doubt that,” he said. “He was an okay agent. Good at finding people, which is why we kept him on, but not much else. He was too emotional, had too many vices. I guess that’s why he decided to make more money selling slaves. End of story.”
I closed my eyes for a brief moment. “So why is your boss glad he escaped?”
“The government now wants to know where those portals are, and they think EenLi will lead the way.” Michael leaned back in his chair, watching me. “They’ve decided they don’t want him dead until they know.”
“I followed him for weeks. He never revealed a single portal’s location.”
“Orders are orders. He lives until he divulges how he’s planet-traveling.”
What if EenLi never gave the information they wanted? Did that mean the murdering criminal would get to live a long, happy life? I didn’t voice my questions, though. Michael knew how I felt about law breakers. My gaze traveled the length of my T-shirt-and-sheet-clad body. I looked thinner. “How long have I been here?”
“Thirteen days, six hours, forty-eight minutes.” He propped his expensive Italian loafers on the cherry wood nightstand. “I had everything you needed brought here.”
“Even a doctor?” That would have totally defeated the purpose of keeping me here, out of the government’s watchful eye.
“No,” he said hesitantly.
I arched a brow. “Who patched me up?”
“Lucius Adaire.”
“That tells me nothing. Who is he?”
“A man.A human.”
My curiosity grew about this Lucius Adaire, and I studied Michael. Just the mention of this mystery man had caused the easy line of his posture to stiffen and a glimpse of uneasiness to enter his eyes.
Michael had seen the worst life had to offer—he’d even caused some of it—so he rarely became uneasy. Why now?
“Tell me about him,” I prompted.
“In a minute,” he said. He picked a piece of invisible lint off of his pants. “You remember anything else about that night in the warehouse?”
The job came first, always. I didn’t try to keep the conversation on my mysterious doctor. I centered my thoughts and replayed every minute I’d spent in that warehouse through my head. Then I leveled my gaze at Michael. “EenLi said a portal was going to open in a day. That day has already passed, of course, but that means the portals aren’t always open, that he can only send his cattle, as he calls them, through on certain days.”
“What opens them?”
“He never said.”
Michael scowled. “Damn, we can’t seem to catch a break. After I picked you up, I sent a group of men to the Pit. It was empty, top and bottom. There were cells underneath, but no one was in them.”
My stomach knotted, and I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Was there evidence of recent use?”
“Makeshift toilets that hadn’t been emptied. Manacles with dried blood—which we analyzed and cross-referenced with the victims’ blood types. Every drop had an exact match.”
“What about Sahara Rose?”
“Gone, her house abandoned. She packed in a hurry, that much was obvious.”
“Wonderful,” I muttered, almost afraid to ask my next question. But I had to. I needed all the facts. “What about the human woman at the warehouse? The survivor?”
Leaning back, he rested his hands behind his head and gazed up at the ceiling. His lips pressed tightly together as a long, protracted silence enveloped us. “You don’t want to know,” he said softly.
I pushed out a breath and shook my head in disgust—disgust with myself. With EenLi. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”
Michael nodded, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Her wounds were too extensive. She died before we got there.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and fought back a razor-sharp crest of regret. “What was her name?”
“Don’t torture yourself this way. You did what you could.”
“What was her name?” I insisted.
“Amy,” he supplied, reluctance heavy in his tone. “Amy Evens.”
Amy Evens. She’d been young, probably no more than twenty-five, with pretty blond hair and wide blue eyes. Like every young woman, she’d probably dreamed of love and a happily ever after, yet she’d been raped, abused, and had died alone.
My disgust and hate for EenLi grew in intensity, but most of all, my disgust for myself grew. I was to protect the innocent; that was part of my job. I closed my eyes, hoping to block the images hovering there, images of both women alive and chained to the wall, neither knowing Death had knocked on her door. I’d failed in every way there was to fail. I had failed to kill my target; I hadn’t even managed to save one human life.