Colby Core

“Just a drink of water,” he murmured, careful to keep his voice low and unthreatening. “That’s all I’m asking,” he assured her, when in truth he was asking for the world. That she would help him bring down this operation … that she would be unchanged.

She reached up. He tensed. Slender fingers brushed her hair behind her right ear.

As slowly and thoughtfully as she’d approached him, she turned and padded barefoot across the room. He’d already inventoried the array of torture devices. There was an electrical shock station, one for water boarding and what appeared to be a carving area. Lots of box cutters and knives.

Just the sort of place a guy wanted to end up.

The woman he was convinced was Tessa Woods picked up a large beaker from the water-torture area and held it beneath the faucet. She glanced at the staircase before turning on the faucet just long enough to run a few ounces of water. Then she moved toward him once more. She was nervous. She checked the stairs twice crossing the room. Whatever her position in the organization, she obviously wasn’t supposed to be down here.

Standing before him, she hesitated before extending the beaker to his mouth. She kept her gaze on his mouth as she tilted the beaker. He watched her face, assessing her trepidation. She was definitely scared. Of him, of being caught. Maybe of the truth.

Did she remember her life before? Or had these lowlifes ensured that history was buried so deeply that she wouldn’t ever recall? Victoria Colby-Camp had told him of how her son had been brainwashed in just such a way. His memories had been twisted to the point that he had firmly believed his parents hadn’t loved him and had abandoned him. Had this woman suffered the same?

The water trickled down his chin. She drew the beaker away and he licked the dampness. Holding the glass container with both hands, she dared to meet his eyes.

“Who are you?”

His chest contracted at the sound of her voice—gentle, quiet, filled with tentative wonder. “Russell Smith. And you?”

She chewed her lip a moment before answering. “Tessa.”

Anticipation detonated deep inside him. “Tessa what?”

Another hesitation, this one far longer than the first. “Just Tessa.” Uncertainty flashed in her eyes before she looked away. “Why are you here?”

The urge to tell her he was here to rescue her, to stop these bastards, nearly overwhelmed him. But he couldn’t take the risk. For all he knew at this point, she could be one of them.

“I’m here to help,” he hedged, choosing his words carefully.

“You’re a new soldier?” She didn’t bother looking away this time, allowing him to see the disappointment tinged with anger in her eyes. The same emotions that altered the pitch of her voice ever so slightly.

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Her fingers visibly tightened on the beaker. “Why are they interrogating you?”

“Isn’t that routine?” His jaw throbbed from the punches the two goons had taken turns throwing. “Don’t they do this to every new recruit?”

She moved her head side to side. “Only the ones who double-cross them or try to hamper their efforts.”

“What about you?” he ventured. “Are you a soldier?”

Another shake of her head.

“Daughter?” He searched her face for a tell-tale emotional reaction. The guy who called himself the Master was old enough to be her father. But Riley knew better. This was Tessa Woods. “Wife?”

Her shoulders lifted then fell. “I belong to the Master.”

Indignation knotted in his gut. This was going to be every bit as sick as he’d suspected. “The Master?” He knew very well who she meant. The bastard in charge. He hadn’t given his name. The two who’d brought Riley here, and then used him as a punching bag, had only referred to their boss as “Master.” “He doesn’t have a name?”

“We’re forbidden to speak it.” She turned away from him and returned the beaker to its place.

The way she took pains to see that it was placed exactly as she’d found it warned again that she feared being discovered, now or later, down here with him. That she dared to take the risk suggested one of two things. Either the Master hoped her innocence would draw out the truth or she was in the market for help.

Too soon to tell.

What he needed was time.

Unfortunately that was a luxury he didn’t have. The Master and his henchmen hadn’t completely bought his story so far and there was a very great likelihood that in a few hours he would be a dead man.

“Tessa?”

That he called her by name appeared to startle her.

“Any chance you could cut me loose?” He shrugged. “If they’re just going to kill me, I’d rather miss that part.”

Her gaze drifted to the stairs again, before settling on his. “Tell them Renwick was responsible for the ambush. That he sent you, but you’re willing to negotiate your alliance.”

Talk about surprised. Here he’d thought the lady was this innocent little angel but she was talking ambushes and negotiations. “And that’s supposed to keep me alive?” Oh, yeah, he could definitely see how admitting that the enemy had sent him would do the trick.

“His people recruited you.” She thought for a moment. “Phipps. Tall, thin, red hair. He offered you a hundred thousand to set up a takedown. You never met Renwick. Only Phipps.”

“Telling them that I’m a mole doesn’t seem like a good plan to me.” His wrists were burning from the tightness of the ropes but that was the least of his problems at the moment.

Those big blue eyes stared right through him, as if she hoped to penetrate his brain and make him pay attention. “It’s a good plan.”

She turned and started for the stairs.

“Maybe I’ll just take my chances with the truth.” Might as well cover all the bases … just in case.

Tessa paused at the bottom of the stairs and met his gaze once more. “Then you’ll die.”

TESSA CHECKED THE SECURITY peephole before activating the latch to enter the library. She held her breath until she confirmed that there was no one in the room.

The pressure of the air seemed to change as she closed the door leading to the basement and held still to listen. The silence continued to linger in the air.

Counting him, there had only been three people in the questioning room and two patrolling the grounds.

If the others were in their rooms for the night, she should be able to reach her room without incident.

She checked the entry hall before leaving the library. The house was completely dark but she knew every square foot. Learning the furniture placement had ensured she never bumped into a table or chair. The slightest noise would bring trouble.

A loud thump echoed. Tessa froze. Outside, she determined. Another solid thump.

Car doors.

She hurried to the nearest window. Two SUVs had arrived. Five, six, seven … she counted seven men loitering around the vehicles.

The soldiers.