Retrieval (4 page)

She moved to the piece of flooring that covered her most precious possession. Prying the floorboard up, she gathered her mother’s book and placed it in the bag along with the device. She bent once more toward Sebastian.

“I’m sorry. Please don’t come after me. Out of all the people in the world, I don’t want to hurt you.” She leaned down and placed a feather-light kiss against his lips.

She took one more second to draw his scent deep inside her where she locked it away as a memory she’d carry with her always. Then she moved toward the door and exited her house. She was afraid to try matter manipulation with the pain she was feeling, so she made her way to the garage. She uncovered the Dodge Charger she and her sisters had rebuilt from the ground up. She was going to have to do things the old-fashioned way.

After checking the entire car for GPS trackers, she found five and disabled them. She checked the inside of the car and smiled when she noticed a tiny, almost microscopic camera in the overhead lining. She decided to leave it there. It might be a good thing for someone to at least see what was going on. Plus it gave her a connection with whoever was on the other end of the camera.

She settled into the driver’s seat. A sudden pain sliced its way through her chest at the thought of what might’ve been with Sebastian in another time, another place. She couldn’t stay. There was no hope of a future between them. A single tear tracked down her cheek, as she started the car and pulled away from the man who could have been her world.

Chapter 4

Sometimes you were the fly, and sometimes you were the windshield.
What the hell did she do to me?
He lifted his arm, and it was like moving through quicksand. He managed to get his arm up, so he could glimpse at his watch and discovered he’d been out for thirty minutes. If the pounding in his head didn’t ease off, he’d be there another thirty trying to form coherent thoughts. Goddamn, he was definitely the fly in this scenario, and his guts were plastered on the windshield of the car driven by one Skylar McKannon.

He breathed in deeply. A couple of groans and a grunt told him the others were rousing. From the curses coloring the air they were no better off than he was. At least she’d put them all on their asses. It would really suck to be the only one suffering, especially with the teasing his men could dish out.

He sat up and almost puked. Several more deep breaths and his vision cleared enough to get a visual on the room. She’d destroyed it. Books were everywhere, furniture overturned, and the bed was on its side against a wall. Shelves hung lopsided, and clothes littered the floor. Even some of the floorboards were lifted. It struck him that as full as the room was, none of the objects looked to be of a personal nature. There were no pictures, no items that looked to hold any special note—it was all decorative, not intimate.

Whatever the reason for her returning here earlier, she wasn’t coming back to this house.

She’d graduated from Northwestern’s School of Medicine in February and interned at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. She’d been graced with a temporary certification from the licensing board at the behest of her professors, but she was scheduled to take Boards for permanent certification tomorrow. He doubted she was going to show for testing.

He’d read the stories in the medical magazines about her prowess, and her “supernatural” skills. Touted as a phenomenal surgeon with keen instincts, she was poised to set the world of medicine on its ear. He grimaced. She’d left it all like it was nothing.

Or maybe it was everything, but the risk of getting caught by Smythe-Ward was too great.

He replayed the last hour in his mind. Something was off. Her expression when she’d instructed him to tell his employer to leave her alone had been desolate, but her eyes had been filled with rage. He’d been singed by it. She knew who was funding her retrieval, and she wasn’t happy about it.

At this point, he had way more questions than answers. He was going to pull his team back and hope they could dig up something else on this screwy situation.

She didn’t know it, but the moment her lips had touched his she’d become Sebastian’s own personal dilemma. And he never gave up when he had a puzzle to solve.

“What the fuck, man? Is she some kind of wonder woman?” Morrissey groaned. “My damn ears are ringing, and I swear I’m going to throw up what I ate three years ago.”

“Maybe you should watch what you eat dude,” Bleak mumbled, head hung as he struggled to get off his knees.

“It’s probably more like
who
he’s eatin’.” Rover’s voice was barely discernible from the floor near Sebastian.

“Children, can we call a time out? Get your shit together. We need to regroup and find out what the hell is going on here, what our next move is going to be. Stop the whining and sniping, and let’s get moving.” Sebastian’s voice was shaky.

“You Superman or something? How the hell did you shake that shit off so fast?” Morrissey asked him.

“She must like him, must think he’s special, so she didn’t knock him out as much as she did us.” Bleak teased him, then moaned and held his head like if he didn’t, it would fall off and roll across the floor.

“Yeah, she likes me so much she left after putting my ass on the ground. I must be losing my touch.” Sebastian grimaced again. The taste of his words was bitter. “Rover, check and see if you can bring up anything on the GPS trackers we placed on the car. I have a feeling she found them, but maybe that onboard camera we placed inside was hidden well enough. See if you can bring it up once we get back to our base. Bleak? You, Morrissey and I are going to pay Dr. Smythe-Ward a little visit at the Hilton. Let’s move out.”

* * * *

Two hours later, Sebastian, Bleak, and Morrissey were waiting for Dr. Dolan Smythe-Ward to present himself. They’d been given access to his penthouse suite, but he’d kept them waiting in the foyer for twenty minutes. Sebastian had sent a short report to him yesterday confirming his belief that he’d found the sisters. The man must have immediately hopped a flight here from his home off the coast of New England. He’d called Sebastian last night to tell him to bring the women to the Hilton once they’d been retrieved.

Sebastian didn’t like this setup. He’d placed his own call to General Post once he’d left the McKannon house but hadn’t heard from him yet. Smythe-Ward’s bodyguards had patted them down as soon as they’d arrived. They’d discovered he and his men armed and requested their firearms.

Sebastian had denied the request. It could have gotten ugly, but clearer heads had prevailed. They still had their weapons.

“Gentlemen, it’s good to see you again. Please come into the drawing room and have a seat.” Dr. Smythe-Ward’s nasally voice drew Sebastian’s gaze to the shadows of the room beyond the foyer.

“We’ll stand,” Sebastian replied as he, Morrissey and Bleak walked into the room.

“As you wish. Since I don’t see my daughter here with you, I gather we’ve had a setback?”

The man walked slowly, almost painfully, to the bar to pour a glass of liquor and finally taking a seat on a small sofa.

“If I’m not mistaken there was more than one daughter you tasked us to retrieve,” Sebastian bit out.

“Ah, so there was.” Smythe-Ward inclined his head. “As I see none of them here, I can only assume something unforeseen has happened.” A mocking silence filled the air, then, “Come, let’s not pretend here. If you’ve been in their acquaintance at all, you realize why the oldest was always the primary goal. Now what has happened?”

“We’ve had a run-in with a woman who has no desire whatsoever to reunite with her long-lost father. Tell me, Smythe-Ward, why is that? And while you’re detailing the specifics, why don’t you also tell me why you sent my men and me into a situation that could have cost us our lives?” Sebastian’s hard voice sliced through the other man’s fake regret like a hot knife through butter.

“I believe I thoroughly outlined the danger my daughter could pose to you and your men,” Smythe-Ward stammered, his face ruddy in anger he attempted, but failed, to hide.

“No, what you told us was, ‘The oldest can get to be a handful,’ and that’s a direct quote, Smythe-Ward. You gave us an electronic device to use and told us, ‘If the wind picks up in the room, hit this button,’ another direct quote. What you neglected to tell us was that she can knock a grown man down and cause serious damage to anyone within striking distance with nothing more than her mind. You also didn’t tell us that she can materialize at will and dematerialize just as quickly. No,
Doctor
, there was quite a lot you left out when you sent us on your little retrieval errand.”

“She can materialize? What do you mean? You witnessed this?”

Smythe-Ward’s excitement caused Sebastian’s eyebrows to lower. Had he unerringly given the man something to use against Skylar?
Why do I care? She’s just another mission.

“We saw something. It could have been a trick, or an illusion for all we know.” Bleak stepped in, his voice pitched to soothe. It wasn’t the bark of a pissed-off dog like Sebastian’s had been.

Sebastian cast a curious glance at Bleak, who merely shook his head slightly.

“She knocked us on our asses, and that’s something we should’ve been better prepared for. We were expecting Las Vegas magic. What we got was definitely something different.” Morrissey’s voice was a whip that snaked across the room in the silence left by Bleak’s previous statement.

Smythe-Ward looked across the room, out into the dark night visible through the large bank of floor to ceiling windows. Downtown Chicago twinkled pretty and new under the blanket of darkness.

“She’s grown in strength,” he mumbled. “Tell me, Mr. Graham; did anything else happen when you attempted to apprehend my daughter?” Smythe-Ward’s voice was again smooth and gentle, but a hint of subterfuge remained.

“Like what?”

“Any unforeseen events? Did you, for instance, have a bizarre reaction to the sight of my daughter?”

“What the hell are you asking me?” Sebastian’s lip curled in disgust. It seemed a slimy sickness reached across the room, originating from Smythe-Ward.

“Were you attracted to my daughter, Mr. Graham? Is that why she isn’t with you now? Did you let her go?” Smythe-Ward’s voice was deadly quiet. An impression of rage tainted the air between them.

What the fuck?
The churning in his gut grew more pronounced, and with a sudden click of clarity, Sebastian decided he wasn’t giving this man what he wanted—whether it was information or Skylar McKannon.

His directive had changed that fast. His primary goal was to find the woman who’d given him the slip and do his level best to find out what the hell was going on.

“I’m not sure what you’re intimating, Dr. Smythe-Ward, but you paid my company good money to locate and retrieve your daughter. I repeatedly asked for any information that would be beneficial in that search and retrieval, but you repeatedly hamstrung my team. Now you’re asking me if I was attracted to your daughter, and if that’s the reason why she’s not here now. Let me get this straight—you’re questioning my integrity?”

Where Smythe-Ward’s voice had been cunning but gentle, Sebastian’s was a scythe, sharp and deadly.

“No. No. Not at all. I was simply inquiring. I am a scientist and trying to figure out all parts of a puzzle is my job, you see. Never would I doubt the integrity of someone my dear friend, General Post, suggested for this job. Please forgive my question, and let’s start over, please?”

“Look, maybe this isn’t a job for my company. Maybe you need to involve an entity you can trust enough to give them all the information,” Sebastian pressed.

“Oh no, please. You’ve already come farther in the search than any before you. It would be a shame to lose your expertise. Again, forgive my question; no affront was intended. Can you tell me how she got away?”

“She knocked us flat. We’ve already told you that. We want you to tell us
how
.”

Smythe-Ward would either answer the question, or they would leave and begin searching for the truth on their own. The thought of Skylar in the clutches of the good doctor caused his vision to blacken, and his hands to curl into fists.

Smythe-Ward seemed to fight within himself for a minute before capitulation made his shoulders droop.

“Gentlemen, have a seat. The story I’m about to impart is lengthy and, at times, unbelievable. For the sake of my daughters, there are some things I simply cannot divulge. But I can give you information which will most assuredly help you in your search.”

Now it was “daughters.” “We’ll stand, thank you.” Ice flew off Sebastian’s words.

Bleak and Morrissey moved forward, flanking him on both sides. Sebastian wondered at their sudden intense interest in this situation. Did they wonder, and rightfully so, about what the hell knocked them flat back at the McKannon house? Or was it something else?

He shook off his concerns, concentrated on the man sitting before them. He was in his early eighties. Sagging jowls set in a face that only a mother could love. Gray hair was sparsely spread over a large head. His neck was slim, and his head seemed to wobble on the thin reed that attached it to the rest of his body. He’d once been a large man, tall and robust but was now just a stooped, thinning shell of his former self.

General Post had given Sebastian some of the information about Smythe-Ward’s past, but Sebastian had gone a level deeper in his research, discovering things Post had in no way, shape, or form disseminated. Something hadn’t rung true after his first meeting with the man, but he’d had no time to delve into what he’d uncovered until after he’d been knocked on his ass by Skylar. Then he’d made the time on the way over here to meet with the Smythe-Ward.

Sebastian had seen pictures of Smythe-Ward as a young child, standing with his father and grandfather, who laughed as the snow fell and coated a sign behind them that read AUSCHWITZ.

Dolan Smythe-Ward’s father, Adler Schmidt, and grandfather, Barrend Schmidt, had both worked with Joseph Mengele at the Nazi war camp. When the United States liberated Auschwitz, Barrend had fled, along with Mengele. Adler had prostrated himself on the altar of the United States’ benevolence, saying he’d been a prisoner. They’d believed him and offered him asylum. It wasn’t until he’d kidnapped and tortured a child in the U.S. that the truth was uncovered. He’d never been a prisoner. He’d been a warden of the camp and had actively participated in his father and Mengele’s experiments. And Dolan had grown up in this, witnessing the atrocities, though he was little more than a toddler. That’s where he’d cut his teeth.