Atone in Darkness Page 2

  “I’d rather be the judge of that. I don’t want to risk infection setting in.”

  The jerk actually snickered. “Come on, Doc. You know as well as I do that I don’t get infections.”

  And if she didn’t at least get a look at his wounds, her records would be incomplete. She suspected he wouldn’t give a damn about that. “At least tell me how bad the injuries were.”

  His face was a blank slate as he stared at her for several seconds before finally answering. “Fine. They used a fixed-blade combat knife to slice open my right thigh. The cut was about six inches long. For the record, it hurt like hell, but they didn’t nick any major blood vessels or do much muscle damage. Otherwise, nothing else noteworthy besides the usual assortment of bruises and minor cuts.”

  Those bastards. What kind of men did stuff like that to a fellow human being?

  Some of the anger Chase had to be feeling finally leeched into his expression. “The kind that get paid a lot of money. Of course, I’m sure some of those guys would do it free of charge just for shits and grins. Don’t let it upset you. I’ll be fine.”

  Her face flushed hot with embarrassment when he spoke. Had she actually asked that question out loud? Well, duh, obviously since he’d answered her. What could she say to that? It wouldn’t help either of them to admit how scared she was. “And you’re sure you don’t need stitches or at least some butterfly bandages to make sure that wound stays closed?”

  “No, the gash is already healing, and the ibuprofen will help with everything else. Just give me the ice pack for my ribs, and I’ll be good to go.”

  “Fine.” While she got the pack out of the freezer, she gave him the rest of his instructions for the time being. “Let me know if you want more ibuprofen or even something stronger. Rest will help more than anything.”

  She stepped back to give him room to slide down off the exam table but stayed close enough to offer assistance if he wasn’t steady on his feet. Even though she knew he never appreciated her hovering, she trailed after him to make sure he made it all the way back to his cot safely. While he got settled, she debated whether or not to lock the cell door. The guards wouldn’t like it, but each second’s delay could be critical if his condition took a sudden turn for the worse.

  Chase rolled over on his other side to face the back wall. “Just close the damn door on my cage. I’ll be fine.”

  She did as he ordered even though he was wrong about that last part. The truth was neither of them would ever be fine again.

  2

  * * *

  “I’m leaving for the day. Press the button by the door if you need anything at all, and one of the guards will come. I’d rather be the one to dispense medications, so don’t hesitate to ask for me even if all you need is more ibuprofen.”

  His pretty doctor knew he was well aware of how the button worked, but she waited patiently for him to answer. While it was tempting to ignore her, that would only make him feel as if he was kicking a puppy. “I will.”

  He waited until after she was gone and the lab lights dimmed to add “not” to his statement. The one time he’d done as she’d suggested had resulted in another “Let’s kick Chase’s ass” party courtesy of the guards on duty. Evidently they’d been watching a highly contested college basketball game, and he’d interrupted their fun.

  Once he was sure she was gone, he rolled up to sit on the side of his cot and tossed the now warm ice pack onto the bedside table. Not for the first time he was grateful for his weird DNA, which gifted him with the accelerated healing that all Paladins shared. The pain in his cracked ribs had faded to a mere echo of what it had been when they’d dragged him back to his cell last night. Maybe he’d fallen asleep when he crawled up onto his cot, but it was more likely he’d simply passed out.

  At least he hadn’t died this time. Lately he was growing less sure if that was actually something to celebrate. If he had died and managed to stay that way, all of this crap would finally be over with for good. It was getting harder and harder to fight his way back from the pain and his despair of ever finding a way out of this place. The only thing that kept him going was knowing his permanent death would destroy his sister, who had raised him single-handedly after their mother died. After Gwen had sacrificed so much for him, he wouldn’t fail her now.

  He knew in his heart that she and his friends were hunting for him, but he had no idea what kind of clues, if any, his captors might have left behind for them to follow. For one thing, the last known location they had for him was in southern Missouri, so that was most likely where they were concentrating their search.

  Unfortunately, the few glimpses he’d had of the area surrounding this place looked nothing at all like the Ozarks. Damn, he hated the worry and grief his sister and brother-in-law had to be going through right now. There wasn’t much he could do about that until he figured out a way to escape from wherever the hell he was.

  No matter how hard he’d tried to piece it all back together, the details of his last day of normal remained fractured in his mind. When he thought back to when he’d been taken, it was like watching his life play out through a curtain of mist that blurred all the sharp edges of the world around him. Some things, a precious few, remain crystal clear in his head from the last day he could claim as his own. The shirt he’d worn. The phone call from his sister. The muffin and coffee he’d picked up on the way to the county airport. He’d been about to catch a chartered flight back to headquarters in St. Louis. A meeting of some sort. He couldn’t remember what it was about, not that it mattered anymore.

  The real problem was that everything after that stubbornly remained a thick fog. There might have been a car accident on a twisting Ozark road; sometimes he could almost hear the screech of tires and feel the jolt of pain as his car went spinning out of control.

  But then again, maybe none of that had actually happened.

  All he knew for sure was that he’d never made it to the airport, and there was nothing but a big, gaping hole of darkness in his memory until he woke up in this cell. No longer able to sit still, he lurched up off the cot, his head spinning in circles that were part dizziness and part frustration with never finding any solutions to this predicament.

  He stuck his hand out to lean against the wall until his mind cleared. Once he could stand without wobbling, he took a few slow steps across the cell and then turned back again. When he returned to his starting point, he did a few leg stretches to assess his current condition. The skin where they’d stabbed his thigh pulled tight, but no new rush of warm blood poured out of the wound.

  Chase tugged his shirt up and did a quick visual inspection of the various bruises and cuts he could see. Most were all but gone. That left his ribs. A slow twist from right to left and back again hurt enough that he had to stop and breathe slowly until the pain faded away. Leaning forward and back didn’t cause him any problems. Progress was being made.

  By morning, he should be pretty much back to normal. For now, he’d pace the small open area in the cell for a while to burn off some energy and a lot of his frustration and then try to sleep.

  As he walked, he thought about Marisol Riggs, MD. Did the woman realize that she was just as much a prisoner here as he was? She might not be subject to the same abuse, but she suffered, too. Chase wasn’t naïve enough to think he’d ever be allowed to walk out of this place alive. The fact that the guards made no effort to hide their identities from him had put that dream to rest pretty damn quickly. The only real surprise was that the sadistic bastards had kept their hands off Marisol, at least so far.

  He’d caught a few glimpses of the surrounding area as they dragged him back and forth from the gym where they heaped their abuse on him. No sign of civilization as far as he could see, which meant they were isolated from the outside world. While that made it easier for the powers that be to keep a lid on what they were up to, it also meant the assholes who worked for them had no handy place to blow off steam.

  Well, except when the
y dragged Chase to the big gym on the other side of the building for another round of fun and games. Eventually, though, someone would decide he’d outlived his usefulness. Once that happened, perhaps they’d bring in another poor SOB to take his place. If so, then Chase wouldn’t be the only one whose final resting place would be out in the middle of the forest that surrounded this facility. He hated knowing Marisol would likely be shoved into a shallow grave right next to his.

  The thought of what they might do to her first made him want to punch the wall. He might have even given in to the temptation, except he couldn’t risk any more injuries right now. The chances of escaping were pretty minimal. But if the opportunity ever presented itself, he needed to be ready.

  He’d walked enough. It was time to sleep. With luck, he’d dream of better times, maybe a night spent in the arms of a beautiful woman, no doubt one with long blond hair and intelligent dark eyes. He’d told himself repeatedly that he had no business having such hot thoughts about his keeper. But considering how many nights Marisol haunted his dreams, his subconscious wasn’t listening. As long as she didn’t find out, no harm, no foul.

  Another lesson he’d learned early on was to sleep in his clothes. There didn’t seem to be any set schedule for when his captors would show up at his door. Sweats and a T-shirt didn’t provide much in the way of protection, but fighting in just his underwear put him at a definite disadvantage.

  He’d even given up using the thin blanket on his cot. Sleeping cold was better than getting tangled up in his covers while trying to fight off his attackers. They’d quickly learned the hard way it went better for them if they gassed him first, but he’d rather be prepared.

  Staring up at the ceiling, he deliberately pictured his sister and her husband standing on the front porch of the rustic farmhouse where he’d grown up. Right now, he needed that reminder of better times and the world that still existed somewhere beyond these walls. After a bit, the last of his tension drained away and sleep finally came.

  • • •

  “WHY ARE YOU here?”

  It wasn’t the first time her patient had asked that question, but it was the first time Marisol felt inclined to answer. Instead, she concentrated on sticking the needle into his vein and watched as his blood poured into the tube. When it was nearly full, she switched it out for the next one. Halfway through the third tube, she released the tourniquet. After setting the blood sample aside with the others, she removed the needle, put a clean cotton ball on the spot, and bent Chase’s arm up to hold pressure on the small wound to make sure the bleeding stopped quickly.

  “I got the job in the usual way. I’d just finished my residency and was interviewing for various positions around the country. This one had the best benefit package, so I accepted the offer.”

  As it turned out, the benefits had been a little too good, especially for someone right out of school. For sure, she should’ve asked a whole lot more questions about what the job would entail. She checked Chase’s arm for bruising before covering the cotton ball with a small bandage. As she inverted each of the tubes of blood several times, he continued to study her.

  “Are you the only keeper in this place?”

  She managed not to wince at his derogatory description of her job. “As far as I know. Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged. “Because you’re the only person I’ve seen other than the guards. Does that mean you are in charge of tormenting the other four inmates of this lovely zoo?”

  What on earth was he talking about now? She labeled the tubes and set them aside until she had time to finish processing them. “You’re the only . . . resident.”

  Prisoner, really, but she couldn’t bring herself to call him that. From the way he sneered right then, he knew exactly what she was thinking. “Inmate, resident. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. I’m just curious about who watches over the other ones.”

  She’d tried not to think very hard about what his designated number meant. “You’re the only one I’ve actually met.”

  The stubborn man wouldn’t let up. “Then what happened to the other four? I mean, the guards call me Number Five. I’m assuming that means there are or at least were four other inmates before I got invited to the party.”

  He pointed at the tubes of blood. “I have no idea what kind of tests you’re running on me all the time, but it doesn’t make sense that I’m the only guinea pig in this place. What can you learn from one man’s blood?”

  No one had ever told her that she had to keep secrets from her one test subject. “I’m continuing the work begun by my predecessor.”

  She stopped to hold up her hand to forestall any more questions. “And before you ask, I don’t even know what his or her name was. I never met the person or heard why they left. When I came here, I was given access to the previous data and told to pick up where they’d left off. All I know about the long-term project is that I’m supposed to run specific tests and compare them to several others already in the records.”

  “What kind of tests?”

  “The usual chemistry tests like blood sugar levels and ones that monitor kidney, cardiac, and liver functions. Others check for signs of anemia or infections.” She hesitated and then added the last major one. “I’m also studying certain markers found in the DNA of all the test subjects.”

  She was pretty sure that Chase flinched when she mentioned the genetic portion of the study. His expression went totally blank as if he’d withdrawn into a world of his own. Maybe she should be glad that he’d quit asking all those uncomfortable questions, but seeing him shut down like that was worrisome. Did he already know the answers she was looking for in his genetic code? Not that it mattered. Her gut feeling was that he wouldn’t share the information even if he did.

  After a few more seconds of chilly silence, he blinked and was back from whatever dark trip he’d gone on in his head. She nodded toward the small gym set up in the far corner.

  “It’s been a couple of days since we checked your cardiac readings. I’d like you to start on the treadmill, then move to the bike, and finally the weights.”

  Chase automatically peeled off his T-shirt to let her apply the sensors that would allow her to monitor his heart as he made the rounds of the exercise equipment. Even after she attached the last one, he made no effort to get started. His vivid blue eyes had a hard edge to them now. “So tell me, Doc, was the benefit package worth living out here in the middle of nowhere with no one but asshole guards and me for company?”

  The honest answer would be no to the guards, but maybe when it came to working with Chase. No way she was going to admit that to him, though. “I’m sure you’re aware how expensive medical school is. When they offered to pay off my student debt in exchange for working in a remote location for a year, I couldn’t say no.”

  Although God knows she should have.

  “I figured it was something like that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re not like them.”

  He finally stood up, deliberately crowding her. It wasn’t hard considering the difference in their size. She wasn’t particularly short for a woman, but he had at least eight inches on her in height and eighty pounds in muscle. Oddly enough, his sheer physical presence made her feel protected, not threatened. If a guard had stood that close to her, she doubted she would’ve been able to stand her ground. Rather than acknowledge what he was doing—and the effect it was having on her—she focused on his comment.

  “How am I different? I’m part of the group holding you prisoner here.”

  “You don’t like seeing me hurt. The guards love it.”

  Before he walked away, he traced the side of her face with his fingertips. His touch was so light and fleeting that she might have imagined it. Maybe she had, because what she saw in his eyes was cold anger. When his hand dropped back down to his side, it was curled into a tight fist. “Of course, I could be just imagining how you feel about me. I hear Stockholm Syndrome does some really weird shit to its vict
ims.”

  All she could do was sputter in frustration as he plugged in the sensors himself before setting the controls on the treadmill. When everything was ready, he dutifully began a slow jog before gradually picking up speed. She knew from past experience that he could maintain that fast pace for far longer than a typical male of his age in good physical condition should be able to, the emphasis on the word typical. There was much about Chase Mosely that didn’t fit any known parameters.

  His ability to heal was absolutely mind-boggling. His reflexes were off the chart, not to mention his endurance, speed, and overall strength. If the whole idea wasn’t a tale right out of some science fiction movie, she would’ve thought someone somewhere had been experimenting in how to create a super soldier. But if the science had already been done, they wouldn’t be paying her the big bucks to unlock the secrets of his DNA.

  Early on, she’d tried asking him about his mysterious abilities. She’d gotten as far with that line of questioning as he had when he’d asked about her motivations for being part of the team that tormented him on a daily basis.

  She kept a wary eye on him as she started running the tests on his blood. After putting two tubes in the centrifuge to separate the serum from the cells, she used blood from the third tube to make several slides to study under the microscope. As usual, everything looked perfectly normal. She recorded the results and then labeled and dated the slides before filing them with the earlier examples.

  It would take longer to get the results from the chemistry tests, but she suspected they would be just like all of the others she’d run. It would be helpful if she knew whether this stream of nearly identical results was expected or if her employer was hoping for something different. Regardless, she was a scientist trained to follow a trail of facts, wherever it might lead her. The markers in Chase’s DNA had to be the key to the puzzle she was supposed to unlock. That much was obvious. Although no one had said as much in so many words, her mysterious employer clearly thought that those specific markers were responsible for his unique abilities.