One of Mercer’s dark brows rose. “You know he’s threatening to go to the media.”
“Every damn day,” Logan muttered, taking the seat closest to Mercer. “It’s getting harder to keep him in check. I thought his behavior would settle down the longer he was here, but that’s not happening.”
“We have to stop him.” Mercer motioned for the others to take their seats. When Cale sat near Logan, Gunner had no choice but to sit near Sydney. Her scent rose up, filling his nose. So sweet. That light vanilla that haunted him.
“Just what do you have in mind?” Cale asked cautiously.
Mercer pursed his lips, but instead of answering, he flipped open the manila file. “Have any of you heard about a drug called muerte?”
Death. Gunner leaned forward. He made sure not to touch Sydney. “It’s a black-market drug from South America.” He’d heard rumors about the drug for a few months.
“One that’s supposed to be highly addictive,” Logan added.
Mercer studied the papers before him. “Highly addictive, and very deadly to its users. It can cause increased aggression, paranoia and even hallucinations.” He glanced up at them, letting his gaze drift over the group. “The DEA believes that muerte first appeared in Peru, but now it’s being transferred all the way up the chain to Mexico.” He paused, then said “It hasn’t made its way to the U.S. yet.”
Gunner waited, knowing there was more to come. Mercer wouldn’t be telling them about the drug unless it related to the case. To Slade.
Increased aggression. Paranoia.
“We ran a tox screen on Slade Ortez shortly after he was brought back to the States.” The papers rustled in Mercer’s hands. “The screen showed that he had high levels of the drug in his system. More tests indicated that he’d been using for...quite some time.”
Gunner felt as if a fist had just slammed into his chest.
“You think...” Sydney’s voice was hesitant. “You think his captors made him take the drug?”
Mercer’s bald head tilted to the side. “They could have used it to keep him better controlled. Controlled prisoners are the easiest to handle,” he said, and Gunner knew the man was talking from dark experience. Then Mercer sighed. “The way the man is making these threats, the way he’s fighting every shrink I send to help him...I think the muerte is still affecting him.”
“Can it have an impact after so long?” Cale asked. “He’s been here for weeks.”
“Muerte is one of the most dangerous drugs that the DEA has seen.” Flat. “Its effects are far-reaching, and our government researchers think that some of the behavior changes can be permanent for the users.”
Gunner shook his head.
But Mercer wasn’t done. “Once a user’s on it, it’s nearly impossible to break free.”
“B-but he has been free,” Sydney said. Gunner saw her hands fist in her lap. “Slade’s been here for weeks, and he hasn’t used—”
“The shrinks say his behavior is becoming even more erratic. He needs help, the kind that he can’t get without the government’s help.” The lines around Mercer’s eyes deepened. “We have a special facility that we’re going to send him to—”
“You’re locking him up?” Sydney asked, voice rising.
“For his own safety.”
And for the good of the EOD. Gunner understood, without Mercer having to say the words.
“I want you to convince him to go into treatment willingly,” Mercer said as his attention focused on Sydney. “You’re the one he trusts. You tell him that we can help him.”
“Can you?” she fired right back.
“Maybe.” A brutal answer because of its honesty. “Or he may be so far gone that there is no pulling him back.”
Gunner wouldn’t flinch. His brother, the kid he’d promised his grandfather that he would protect...this was how he’d wound up? “Make him better,” Gunner growled. “Help him to heal.”
Mercer’s stare shifted to him. “If I can, I will.”
“And if you can’t?” Sydney pressed. “What then? You can’t just leave him in this—this treatment facility indefinitely—”
“If he doesn’t get better, we’ll explore the next step.”
What would the next step be? If the behavior changes were permanent, if there was no way to stop the aggression and the threats and the—
“He’s here now.” Mercer was back to looking at Sydney. “I had him brought in.”
Gunner knew that Mercer had actually been keeping a guard on Slade. Making sure that Slade didn’t carry through on his threats to speak to the media.
“I want you to go and talk to him. Get him to understand that we aren’t the enemy, Sydney.” Again, another flicker of the man’s gaze toward Gunner. “That none of us are his enemy.”
Sydney rose. “I want to see that file first.”
Mercer pushed it toward her. Her gaze scanned the reports, and Gunner heard her suck in a deep breath. “If he doesn’t get treatment?”
“According to my doctors, his behavior is just becoming worse. The paranoia and aggression have only increased while he’s been back in the U.S.” His lips tightened. “If he doesn’t get some serious intervention and treatment, he’ll become a danger to himself and others.”
If he wasn’t already. The way Mercer was talking, the guy already thought Slade was a threat.
“He needs your help,” Mercer said, his voice softening. “Are you going to leave him—”
Her head jerked up at that even as Gunner shot to his feet.
Low blow.
“Or will you help him?”
Sydney’s fingers were trembling as she pushed the file back toward Mercer. “I’ll help him.”
“Good.” Mercer had obviously gotten just the outcome that he’d wanted. “He’s one floor below us, second room on the right.”
She headed for the door.
“Convince him, Sydney,” Mercer ordered, the words heavy with an unmistakable command.
“I just want to save him,” she replied. Then she was gone. The door closed quietly behind her.
Mercer’s gaze swept over the agents in the room; then his stare rested on Gunner. “Make sure your brother understands the situation.”
Gunner gave a jerky nod even as he headed for the door.