Authors: Sydney Katt
Transference
TRANSFERENCE
SYDNEY KATT
RANDOM DISTRACTION BOOKS
CHAPTER 1
THREE THOUSAND, TWO hundred and eighty-five days. That was the best it could get. The worst was four thousand, three hundred and eighty-four days. Allison Waverly kicked those numbers around in her head and let them rattle hollowly. She still couldn't believe that was how long she'd spend in jail for believing Adam Barrows.
Suddenly, that didn't seem like such a good idea anymore.
As her trial went on, Allison never truly thought she'd have to spend time in jail. This little voice in the back of her head kept whispering that Adam would come for her, that he'd find the proof of the conspiracy and his brother's innocence that they'd been searching for, that she would get off with little more than a slap on the wrist for her unwitting part in the prison break.
Hearing that verdict had numbed her for a time, but now feeling was back, filling her with pain and regret. Had Adam and Eli made it out of the country? Did they know she was going to prison for the next nine to twelve years because of them? Did they care?
Had Adam already forgotten her?
Every time she thought about prison, she shuddered inwardly. Her medical sales route had taken her to the prison infirmary enough to see firsthand how horrible it could be for the inmates. As savage as the men had been to one another, she'd heard horror stories about women's prisons. And she'd heard more than she cared to about the revolting and vicious things the women did to each other. Some of those tales made other wounds pale in comparison, like the ones she'd patched up for Adam and Eli while on the run.
If her father hadn't tried to help her prove that Adam was right about the conspiracy he'd tried to expose, she might've been able to trade on his political capital or her family's good name to get into a safer prison. But trying to do the right thing when you were up against rogue forces within your own government wasn't good for your health, as her father had soon discovered.
The media could spin the boating accident that had left the governor and his chief aide Theodore Waverly dead, but it was no accident. Neither man liked to spend more time on boats than they had to for fundraisers or photo ops. No way would they have been on a boat for fun in the middle of the afternoon on a Tuesday in the early spring. Not that the media cared to do any digging when there were new juicy details surfacing daily about how the two of them were using government funds for prostitutes.
None of it was real, but it was all very final.
With no one to turn to for help except for a showboating attorney who didn't care whether she lived or died, Allison would have roughly a decade to fend off the attacks she knew were waiting for her at one of the toughest women's prisons in the country.
Inmates would love her: the poor little rich girl whose daddy had bought her out of every problem she'd ever encountered for no other reason than to protect his reputation. And if there were a payday involved from the people who thought she knew more than she claimed to, there would be more than a few inmates out for blood.
Come to think of it, she'd have a decade of fending off attacks from inmates and guards alike.
Already, she was getting a creepy vibe from the guard in the back of the van with her. Something about the way he looked at her. It was off. In that moment, even more than the night news broke of her father's death, she wanted a hit. It didn't matter what it was, just so long as it got her so messed up that she didn't have to deal with the horrors of her new life.
Not that her new life would be very long. Nothing about being a privileged ex-junkie selling medical equipment had provided the life skills she'd need for her new reality.
Allison slid another surreptitious glance in the guard's direction. He wasn't Adam by any stretch of the imagination. Hell, he wasn't even all that attractive. But he'd do – probably without any hesitation.
That was the thing about being an ex-junkie. You never really achieve 'ex' status. People who'd never battled addiction liked to spout off about 'once a junkie, always a junkie,' but they'd never understand how true that was. The cravings never went away. Not really. Just like an itch below the skin, it could never be scratched.
It was never over.
Morphine would be preferable right now. Medical grade would be sheer bliss. Any other high-quality pharmaceuticals would probably do the trick.
Belatedly, she wished she'd shot up with the good stuff she'd stolen from the prison infirmary when the doctor left her alone with an unlocked drug cabinet. It was stupid to steal it – especially since he'd only left the cabinet unlocked around her because of the trust their on-again, off-again relationship afforded her – but there was no way to return it after the police began investigating her part in the prison break and she lost access to her route. Daily meetings and getting a new sponsor to keep her clean were the only things that kept her from making use of that little vial of heaven.
With what she was facing now, maybe she shouldn't have fought so hard to stay clean. Dying in prison would be terrible. A blissed-out morphine overdose though? That was the way to go – flying high and without pain.
But she hadn't. The thought of avenging her father's murder, the thought of helping Adam clear his brother's name for the crime he was so certain he didn't commit, the thought of Adam's soft and stolen caresses whenever they'd meet for coffee, the way his soulful steel green eyes begged for her help whenever their eyes met – all of that stopped her. Allison knew that wouldn't be enough any longer. She'd require something a hell of a lot stronger to assuage her pain now.
Not that she'd be able to get her hands on any hardcore drugs...or liquor, for that matter. Her only alternative was sex if she wanted any sort of a fix. Unfortunately, the high would wear off fairly quickly. At least it would help take the edge off. Every second in the van was another second to imagine who would get to her first and the ways she might die.
She licked her dry lips and made eye contact with the guard. "So, uh...how much longer until we get there?"
"I thought I told you not to talk."
Great. This guy was in a foul mood. She'd probably have to blow him first.
Funny how when you were out with friends and didn't want to be bothered that every guy in the bar would toss his best pick-up line at you, yet when you were desperate to feel something between your legs besides sweaty pantyhose that the guy couldn't even muster a flicker of interest. Still in her black skirt suit from her court appearance with her auburn hair and makeup done in a conservative manner, Allison knew she looked good. Maybe the guard was just trying to be the good guy who kept it professional and did his job. She'd run into plenty of prison guards like that during her visits to the prison for work.
Then again, this one had been openly ogling her legs since they got into the van.
The van came to a sudden screeching stop, throwing her against the guard. "What's going on?" he barked at the driver on the other side of the metal shield.
The only response they got was two sharp pops that could only have come from a gun. The guard glared at her and drew his weapon. "Don't get any ideas."
Ideas? Really? She was handcuffed and shackled as though she was a ninja master when loose. What did he think she could do?
It wasn't as if she was the mastermind behind breaking Eli Barrows out of prison; she'd only distracted the prison doctor while Adam had stolen his keys. Not that she knew he was stealing the keys at the time. Not that anyone ever believed that.
Besides, the only idea she had in her head was that she wouldn't have to deal with three thousand, two hundred and eighty-five days in prison. She wouldn't even have one.
Clearly, some government official who hadn't properly covered his ass thought she was too much of a threat to him behind bars and had sent someone to kill her. Someone probably thought she'd succeeded in finding whatever evidence her father thought he had the day he died. That didn't make any sense to her. If she'd found any shred of anything that could've kept her out of this prison transport van in the first place, her lawyer would've relished waving it under the prosecutor's nose in open court.
Allison wanted to be brave, to welcome death with a rush of relief and a smile. But she couldn't. She didn't want to die. Not yet.
Not like this.
Before the guard could open the back door to the transport, it flew open and a gun poked its metallic eye inside before blinking out its fire. Allison squeezed her eyes shut and waited for her body's shock to wear off, allowing the piercing flood of pain to invade her senses, waiting for the next shot that would end her life.
It never came.
She opened one eye and looked around in disbelief. The guard was slumped over in death, blood oozing from his fatal wound. Not understanding why he was dead and she was alive, she looked to the man holding the gun and gasped.
The last time she'd looked into those icy blue eyes was through the crack between the closing elevator doors at the busy mall where she'd finally given him the slip. At this point, it almost didn't surprise her that the same shady government agent who'd pretended to be her friend and recovery sponsor was there to execute her. After the way he'd tortured her right before she went on the run, she could believe anything.
"You're welcome," Brad Markenson said, his patented smirk lighting his features.
CHAPTER 2
IT WAS A good thing he hadn't expected any sort of major show of appreciation from her for his extraction efforts because he would have been severely disappointed by the way Allison merely stared through him. With an annoyed roll of his eyes and an impatient motion of his hand, he said, "We need to move before they send backup."
Allison blinked at him, unmoving and silent.
"We do
not
have time for this shrinking violet song and dance." He hopped into the van, retrieved the keys from the dead guard and began the process of unlocking and unhooking all the various restraints. "You can save that traumatized shit for Barrows. Right now, we need to get out of here before—"
Allison pulled her knees to her stomach and then shot them out, her feet connecting with his chest with enough force to send him off balance. She jumped from the van and sprinted – to where, she couldn't possibly know since they were in the middle of nowhere. He assumed her only thought was to get away from him.
Brad's only thought was of the searing pain her feet ignited. It hadn't been so long ago that the brothers Barrows had escaped his pursuit with a well-placed baseball bat hit to the ribs. His wounds had largely healed in the two months since that event, but it was still not a wise choice for her to make.
Tucking the guard's weapon into the back of his jeans, Brad leapt from the van and chased after her. She was just lucky after that little stunt that he was no longer inclined to follow any orders other than his own or he might have gladly shot her for this. Then again, if she kept this shit up the whole way to Costa Rica, he wouldn't be responsible for his actions.
"Dammit, Allison! We do not have time for this!" He paused at the edge of a wooded area to listen for any sign of her. He was in great shape and she'd been spending her time in prison cells or under house arrest; she couldn't be far away now. Lowering his voice to a soothing lilt, "I can understand why you ran. You're right to be skeptical after the last time we saw each other, but I believe we both know you'd already be dead if that was my intention."
While he spoke, he moved stealthily through the trees, intuitively sensing where she might have gone. A nearby twig snapped to confirm his suspicions. He pounced on her from around the tree, knocking her off her feet so that the tree she backed up against was the only thing that saved her from the hard earth.
"You need to hear what I'm telling you, Allison, because I will only say it once. Come with me if you'd like to live. You're as good as dead on your own."