The parallels between the night Emily died and that moment terrified him. Laila was alone with that lunatic, and all he could do was listen, desperately hoping he wouldn’t have to listen to Laila die, too.
“The trucks are invincible. My best people will be protecting you and the pieces you recover.”
“Yes, sir. I want to thank you for that.”
“But?”
“No buts. It’s just—I was hoping I’d get permission to talk to my mother one last time before we leave. I want to say goodbye.”
“Your mother is an Amber, isn’t she?” His tone had turned curt.
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t think there’s much I can do to help you since we’re currently at a stand-off with Amber and communication with that zone is banned.”
“Yes, sir. I understand. I just had to ask in case there was any way I could talk to her one last time.”
“Get out of there,” Rock growled at the speaker. Morgan was a paranoid bastard, and the longer she stayed, the greater the chance she’d do something to trigger his suspicion. Flashes of Jordan, of the risks she took and the price she paid crowded his thoughts, testing the containment of his fury.
Muffled movements sounded before she spoke again. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Lewis.”
The door closed behind her, and Rock tapped his earbud. He’d never programmed her number into his system. Exasperated, he pulled his hand-held out of his pocket and searched her name on the intranet directory. When he found it, he entered her info and tried to contact her again.
She didn’t answer the call.
When he heard the beep, he forced calmness into his voice. “Where are you?” He couldn’t say more without beginning a diatribe about her lapse of good judgment. He disconnected and paced a trench into his tile floor, mentally detailing the list of flaws in her actions.
Her reply didn’t come.
After a half hour, he realized he’d not identified himself, and she probably didn’t have his information programmed into her hand-held either.
He commed again, and gave his information so she could reach him. Then he sat on his stool, bouncing his knee. He couldn’t concentrate well enough to finish fine tuning Jordan’s prosthetic. So he paced.
For almost an hour, Morgan’s office remained silent barring the occasional paper shuffling or chair squeaking. “Please contact Sydney, let her know she’s needed in my office ASAP,” came through the speaker.
Rock stopped in his tracks. Already, the bug was producing useful information. Sydney was a Guard, yes, but he hadn’t known Morgan made himself available for one-on-one meetings with her.
Not more than a quarter hour later, Morgan’s interior door buzzed. “Conrad, it’s been almost a week. I’ve missed you.” Sydney’s voice was more feminine than he’d ever heard it. She spoke as if she didn’t have a dick dangling between her legs—almost.
Rock stepped closer, startled and listening hard. He turned the volume up as loud as it would go.
“Quit your whining, Sydney, I’m a busy man.” Morgan’s chair squeaked, a long, earsplitting sound. “Now come around here. Let me get a good look at you.”
Footsteps echoed softly through the speaker.
“Take your shirt off. I want to see those tits.”
“No fucking way.” He almost laughed. Could it be she was a Guard because she was sucking Morgan’s dick? A definite possibility, especially if he’d given up raping his prisoners after Jordan’s attempt on his life.
“Mmm. Very nice,” Morgan said.
Shuffling and the rasp of a zipper sounded. Slurping, sucking and moaning followed.
“Right here, baby,” Morgan murmured, his voice husky. “Yes, that’s right, all the way to the back of your throat.”
Sydney and General Morgan’s relationship was a priceless piece of information that revealed he and Laila were in more danger than he’d originally thought.
The encounter lasted about two minutes. All in all, pretty funny. Almost humorous enough to change his murderous mood. Almost.
Laila still hadn’t contacted him. He strode to his front picture window as he’d been doing every couple of minutes during the past two hours, and tapped his earbud. “Time.” He set his jaw. It was after five.
The stark silence did nothing to calm his simmering anger.
At seven thirty, Laila strolled through his front door and into his kitchen. Eyes sparkling, she smiled at him.
The wild storm brewing inside couldn’t be tempered by her smile. As he walked toward her, she caught his expression and the joy radiating from her faltered. He stopped directly in front of her and crossed his arms. Now that she was there, safe, he wasn’t sure how to start his imminent meltdown. “Where have you been?”
Her eyebrows lifted, and she cocked her head. “I was at my doctor’s office.”
His guts clenched. “Why? What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Then why did you need a doctor?”
“I didn’t need a doctor. I just—” She rolled her eyes. “I’m turning twenty six in a few days. My implant was due to be replaced.” She gestured to her arm, twisted it and showed the stitches. “I wanted to wait until I was an Emerald before I went so I wouldn’t be forced to get a new one.”
“Oh.” Big news, and unexpected. He pinned her to the edge of the counter, caged her with his arms.
She looked up at him. “What?” she asked softly. She pouted as if she hadn’t started their first day of training lying to him and putting herself in mortal danger. Her deceitful innocence enraged him.
“You stupid little girl.” He knew the choice of words he’d just growled at her should have been tempered, but his indulgence wouldn’t keep her alive. “From now on, you will not—” He’d escalated from soft spoken to a yell within the span of a handful of words. Taking in another slow breath, he continued in a more reasonable tone. “You will not go anywhere near Morgan again.”
Her mouth fell open and brows bunched. Cascades of rapid-fire expressions were barely exposed through the mask she put in place. “How do you know where I was?” She attempted to push one of his arms away.
Once he’d made clear he could keep her there as long as he liked, he raised it.
She stepped to the side and began to back away from him. Cautious deliberation reflected in her eyes.
“You have to be fucking crazy, planting a bug in Morgan’s office.”
“I’m sorry.”
With every one of his steps forward, she took one back.
“Please, Rock. Don’t turn me in.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
She stood there, shaking her head, obviously searching for the right words.
He only became more enraged at her inability to defend herself. “How does it feel to be caught, Laila?”
Her face paled.
“Tell me!” he yelled. “Tell me what it’s like knowing you’re dead already!”
She backed into a corner, panic widening her wild eyes, and froze when she