Shadow Reaper
Page 105
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“I need the information she has,” Peter Whitney said. “Get it from her before you administer the antidote. Take her to the plane immediately. Your destination will be Italy.”
Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She knew several of the women had been taken there to ensure they became pregnant. The GhostWalkers had destroyed his breeding program in the United States. No way was she going to Italy.
“Whitney needs a report,” Gerald said.
She kept her breathing shallow. Labored. Eyes closed, body limp.
“Bellisia, honey, come on, give me the report. You need the antidote. He won’t let me give it to you until you give him what he wants.”
She stayed very still. Gerald and his partner, Adam, were her handlers on nearly every mission. The three had developed a friendship of sorts, if one could be friends with their guards. She knew how to control her breathing and heartbeat, and she did both to make him think she was crashing.
“We’re losing her, Doc,” Gerald said while Adam caught at her arm, shoving up the material of her bodysuit.
“Be certain. She could be faking,” Whitney warned.
“No, she’s out of it. She got back way past the time she was supposed to. We might be too late to save her. They locked the building down and she was still inside.” Gerald’s voice held urgency.
“Did you see Violet or any of her people going in or coming out?” Whitney demanded.
“I never saw Senator Smythe. I have no idea if she was there or not,” Gerald said. Bellisia wasn’t altogether certain he spoke the truth. He may very well have seen the senator, but Gerald and Adam didn’t always like the way Whitney treated the women.
“Be sure Bellisia is really out.”
Gerald prodded her. Hard. She made no response.
“She’s burning up. And she’s bleeding on her back and thigh.”
“Inject her. She’ll need water.”
“Adam, give her the antidote fast. We’ll need water for her.”
She felt the needle and then the sting of the antidote as it went in. She stayed silent, uncertain how fast it was supposed to work. She hated needles; the sensation of them entering her skin often made her nauseous. The double row of muscles caused the needle to spread a terrible fire through every cell.
“Doc says get her water.”
Adam held up a bottle. “She’s not responsive enough to drink.” That showed her how upset on her behalf Adam was – he knew she would need to be submerged in water. He wasn’t thinking clearly.
“Not drink. Pour it over her.”
The cool water went over her arm and then her chest. She nearly lost her ability to keep her heart and lungs under control, the relief was so tremendous.
“That’s not enough. Get the bucket and fill it up at the river.”
Adam threw open the double doors to the van and hopped out. Her acute hearing picked up Whitney hissing in disapproval. He didn’t like that they’d parked by a river. That was her signal to move.
She leapt from the gurney, onto the ground right beside a startled Adam.
“Grab her,” Gerald yelled.
She raced across the street with Adam rushing after her. The tips of his fingers brushed her back just as she dove right off the edge into the river. Water closed over her head, the cool wetness welcoming her.
Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She knew several of the women had been taken there to ensure they became pregnant. The GhostWalkers had destroyed his breeding program in the United States. No way was she going to Italy.
“Whitney needs a report,” Gerald said.
She kept her breathing shallow. Labored. Eyes closed, body limp.
“Bellisia, honey, come on, give me the report. You need the antidote. He won’t let me give it to you until you give him what he wants.”
She stayed very still. Gerald and his partner, Adam, were her handlers on nearly every mission. The three had developed a friendship of sorts, if one could be friends with their guards. She knew how to control her breathing and heartbeat, and she did both to make him think she was crashing.
“We’re losing her, Doc,” Gerald said while Adam caught at her arm, shoving up the material of her bodysuit.
“Be certain. She could be faking,” Whitney warned.
“No, she’s out of it. She got back way past the time she was supposed to. We might be too late to save her. They locked the building down and she was still inside.” Gerald’s voice held urgency.
“Did you see Violet or any of her people going in or coming out?” Whitney demanded.
“I never saw Senator Smythe. I have no idea if she was there or not,” Gerald said. Bellisia wasn’t altogether certain he spoke the truth. He may very well have seen the senator, but Gerald and Adam didn’t always like the way Whitney treated the women.
“Be sure Bellisia is really out.”
Gerald prodded her. Hard. She made no response.
“She’s burning up. And she’s bleeding on her back and thigh.”
“Inject her. She’ll need water.”
“Adam, give her the antidote fast. We’ll need water for her.”
She felt the needle and then the sting of the antidote as it went in. She stayed silent, uncertain how fast it was supposed to work. She hated needles; the sensation of them entering her skin often made her nauseous. The double row of muscles caused the needle to spread a terrible fire through every cell.
“Doc says get her water.”
Adam held up a bottle. “She’s not responsive enough to drink.” That showed her how upset on her behalf Adam was – he knew she would need to be submerged in water. He wasn’t thinking clearly.
“Not drink. Pour it over her.”
The cool water went over her arm and then her chest. She nearly lost her ability to keep her heart and lungs under control, the relief was so tremendous.
“That’s not enough. Get the bucket and fill it up at the river.”
Adam threw open the double doors to the van and hopped out. Her acute hearing picked up Whitney hissing in disapproval. He didn’t like that they’d parked by a river. That was her signal to move.
She leapt from the gurney, onto the ground right beside a startled Adam.
“Grab her,” Gerald yelled.
She raced across the street with Adam rushing after her. The tips of his fingers brushed her back just as she dove right off the edge into the river. Water closed over her head, the cool wetness welcoming her.
