The Safest Lies. Debra Webb

here only a few days after you.”

      Agony welled inside Levi. “I don’t know why. I don’t know her. Why don’t you ask her?”

      “Not to worry, I certainly will. I think I might know why she’s here but I need to be certain.”

      Levi blinked. He didn’t have a damned clue where this was going or what this woman had to do with him. He just wanted to go back to his cell and be left alone. He didn’t want the Interrogator opening up those cabinets over there the way he’d done before. Pulling out his torture tools and making Levi nearly piss his pants.

      Ever since he was a teenager, Levi had thought that to some degree he was brave. He’d thought he was the kind of man who did the right thing. A sort of hero. At least he’d wanted to be. He’d hoped he could be a hero for his sister Cece and help her prove her innocence...but he hadn’t helped. And he damned sure wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t even brave.

      He was a coward.

      Nothing but a stinking coward.

      “Can I count on your help, Levi?”

      Levi snapped his focus back to the man. He swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat and tried to slow his pounding heart. “Yeah, sure. What do I have to do?”

      “I haven’t worked out all the details just yet. We’ll talk again soon.”

      The man stood and walked out.

      Levi sagged in his chair. Squeezed his eyes shut and thanked God he’d survived a second encounter with the Interrogator.

      Whatever he wanted, Levi could do it. He would do it. At this point obedience was probably the only way to stay alive. Cece would want him to stay alive. She would. He knew this without question. His sister would absolutely want him to do whatever necessary to stay alive.

      Even if he was the worst kind of coward.

      * * *

      SMITH RETURNED TO his cabin and turned on the security feed to watch the woman.

      She had stopped her pacing. Had decided to conserve her energy. He suspected she was above average in intelligence. Certainly she was cockier than the average agent. Her dark hair and eyes, the olive skin, gave her an exotic appearance. Beyond the superficial, she looked strong. Undeniable curves, but not soft. Lean. Toned muscle. This was a woman who worked hard to be prepared.

      Her claim of possessing useful information was not a particularly original tactic. Her methods of getting their attention, however, were damned original. To garner the attention of Prentiss himself, then get herself picked up by members and brought here this way was ingenious. And extremely risky. Whatever she wanted, it was important. Important enough to risk her life.

      Reconnaissance teams had been doubled and were out there now, patrolling and watching for trouble. No matter that the team that had brought her here had ensured they weren’t followed. Her clothes and personal items had been removed before she left that godforsaken church. That level of motivation demanded careful consideration.

      It was possible a tracking device was implanted somewhere on her slim body but the initial scan had not picked up on anything close to the surface. Her clothes and cell phone had been cleaned. As he’d anticipated, her phone was more or less a blank slate. Anything incriminating had been wiped. It had been reduced to a mere tracking device. This was a very well-trained agent.

      Rather than take the risk the initial scan had missed something, he picked up a secure internal line and called Medical. “Run deep scans on Prisoner Buchanan. Send the results to me ASAP.”

      Smith ended the call, his attention still focused on the woman. He watched as she whirled around at the sound of her cell door opening. She didn’t resist when the guard cuffed her hands behind her back and then escorted her out of the confining space. Smith followed the monitors, watching her move down the long white corridor and out onto the quad. The two crossed the common area and entered the smaller medical building. Smith switched to another camera and followed their movements inside.

      The guard took a position at the door leading to Imaging while the waiting technician assumed custody of the prisoner.

      “Remove your clothing,” the tech ordered.

      Buchanan glanced around the room, noted the imaging equipment and then did as he asked without question. The top came off first, revealing high, firm breasts and a narrow waist. As the sweatpants slid down her hips and thighs, Smith’s gaze followed. Despite his own training, his body tightened. Her shape was undeniably attractive. Gently rounded hips and long legs sculpted by hours of running. Her long hair hung around her shoulders, the only remaining shield she possessed.

      The quality he found most surprising and interesting was that she stared square at the male technician without the slightest flinch. She was not shy or afraid.

      Smith continued to observe as the scans were accomplished. On a second screen, he monitored the results. There was no indication a tracking device or other electronic object had been inserted or implanted. She was clean.

      His curiosity roused. This woman—this Federal Bureau of Investigation agent—had walked into a compound filled with heavily armed and well-trained extremists. In truth, the people here were more mercenaries than preppers. She had done this while completely unarmed and with no way to call for backup or hope to escape.

      Sadie Buchanan was either telling the truth about her agenda for being here or she was completely insane.

      He would know the answer soon enough.