Dead World 1, page 26
His face paled, but he managed to keep his composure. “What did Rita have to say about this whole situation?” he asked.
Red glanced at her navcom and frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve had her on standby. Do you think I should ask her now? She’ll be able to tell me what the drug is in my system.”
“Why did you place her on standby mode?” he asked. “You’ve never done anything without her. Not for as long as I can remember and that’s a very long time.”
Red shrugged. “I guess I didn’t need her much, while I was in Nuria,” she said as she walked past him.
“Enough! I mean it.” He shackled her wrists with his hands and pulled her into the chair next to him. “Tell me exactly what happened. What did the sheriff say to you?”
Red regaled her grandfather with the story of Morgan’s transformation, stopping only to take a breath. She described in detail the attack on her in the share space. She even mentioned Jesse Lindley’s untimely death, but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to tell him her suspicions about Kane.
She realized that she wasn’t protecting him—he didn’t deserve her consideration—but Red was trying to protect Morgan, too. She continued with her outrageous story, jumping ahead to the part where Morgan accused her of being an Other.
Red knew it sounded insane. It was insane. What must her grandfather think? He’d always been understanding and patient with her in the past, but Red had no doubt she’d pushed him beyond his limits on this one.
“Do you understand now why I’m so upset?” Red asked, when she’d finished. “Morgan’s obviously delusional. I mean really. Me? An Other? Ridiculous!” She slapped her hand down on the table. “Someone would’ve noticed, even if I hadn’t.” Her voice held an edge of hysteria.
Red needed her grandfather to refute her story. Tell her everything was going to be okay. Take it upon himself to convince Morgan that his reasoning was faulty.
He sat at the table for the longest time without saying anything. When he did finally speak, the first question he asked shocked her.
“Do you love this man?”
Red blinked in surprise. “What?”
“Do you love this man?” he asked again, patiently waiting for her to answer.
Red sat back a moment. “We’ve only known each other for a week. That’s hardly enough time for feelings to develop.”
“Answer the question, Gina,” he said.
Her expression soured. “I don’t know. Maybe. It doesn’t really matter anymore.” She leaned closer. “Grandpa, I need you to tell him that he’s crazy.”
He remained so still that Red touched him to ensure that he hadn’t fallen asleep with his eyes open. Her grandfather’s gaze softened.
“Grandpa, please,” Red begged, even as the cold weight of truth settled in her chest. Denial had been the only thing keeping her sane.
“I can’t.” Tears shimmered in his eyes as he stared at her. “I’m so sorry, special one.”
Red stood so fast that she toppled her chair. “What do you mean you can’t? Why are you lying?”
“I’m not.” Her grandfather seemed to crumble before her eyes.
Red shook her head. “Did Morgan put you up to this?”
“No, child.” He reached for her, but she backed away.
“I don’t understand.” Red ran her hand through her hair. “This doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “I’m so confused.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I should’ve told you a long time ago. I just didn’t know how. You were so young and scared.” Her grandpa grasped his teacup and stared into the bottom of it. His gaze grew distant.
Red stopped. It was like her nightmares had suddenly sprung to life and were now wreaking havoc on her waking hours. “Told me what, Grandpa?”
“About your father,” he said softly.
Red closed the distance between them. “What about Daddy?”
He glanced at her. The pain on his face made it hard to breathe. “What do you remember about his death?” he asked.
“I know he died in the car accident.” Red’s gaze dropped to her feet. She stared at her boots as if she’d never seen them before.
He shook his head. “That’s what we told you.”
“We?” Red looked up.
“Your mother and I,” he said absently. “You were too young to hear the truth.”
Red’s throat closed. A loud buzzing started in her ears. She could barely focus on his words. She reached out to steady herself. “What really happened to him?”
There was a long pause. “He was killed.”
“I know that,” she said, confused.
Sadness darkened his brown eyes. “They murdered him.”
Red jerked back. Someone killed her mother and her step-sister, now her father, too? How could this be? Why hadn’t anyone been arrested for the crimes?
An odd stillness came over her. “Who murdered him?” Red’s hand moved to her weapon, but found emptiness. She let out a sigh. Morgan still had her gun. She’d been in such a hurry to get out of town that she’d left without it.
“The same people who created him...and all the Others.”
“Created? Grandpa, what are you saying?” she asked. “Dad’s parents were from the Floridian Islands.”
He laughed, but the sound held no mirth. “That was the story he told everyone to hide his true identity.”
Red clutched his hands, feeling her world dissolve around her. “Why would he do that?”
“Because your father had been created in a lab during the last world war.”
She shook her head. “That’s not possible. That would make him older than you. He showed me the vids of when he was little. I saw his parents in the background.”
“Forgeries,” he said, all emotion leaving his words. “Some of the Others were created from pureblood men and women, who had volunteered to help the war effort. They were mainly soldiers. Honorable people doing a very difficult job.”
He hesitated, then continued.
“Others, like your father, were developed in test tubes. They aged quickly during childhood, but after puberty, the aging process slowed significantly. It would’ve taken another hundred years before your father eventually grew old and died. Not that your father ever got the chance...”
“You’re wrong!” Anger pulsed inside her. “Daddy wouldn’t lie to me.”
“He had no choice,” he said.
Everything she knew, everything Red believed was a lie. Yet even as she denied the blatant truth, things began to make sense for the first time in her life. She had always been different from the other kids when she was growing up.
Her family had discouraged her from participating in athletic events, saying they didn’t want her to get injured. Now Red knew that wasn’t the case. They didn’t want people to notice how fast she was, how agile, how strong...how Other.
“Your father did what he did to protect you.” Her grandfather’s words ripped her out of the past.
“Protect me from what?” she asked.
He stood, closing the distance between them. He clasped her chin and tilted her head. Their gazes met. “The same people who killed him and eventually took the lives of your mother and sister.”
“Shouldn’t the people who created the Others be dead by now?”
“Evil doesn’t die. It simply passes onto the next generation.”
Red tried to escape his grip, but he held firm. Her grandfather was deceptively strong for someone his age. “What about the Others? Wouldn’t they have died?” She thought about Morgan. Was he older than her grandfather?
“They don’t age the way we do. The way I do,” he corrected. “Some people believe they’re immortal. I don’t think that’s the case, but they do live a very long time.”
Red felt as if her head would explode. It was so much to take in. Too much to digest at one time, but she didn’t have a choice. “Why would they murder Mom and—”
“It was a case of mistaken identity,” he interrupted. “They thought your step-sister was you.” He held her gaze. “I helped convince them.”
“But why Mom?”
“Got in the way.” He looked so sad.
To the killers, her mother had meant nothing, but to her grandfather, she’d been his world. His only child. Blood rushed south, flowing down her body until her knees wobbled. He guided her into a chair before she collapsed.
Red looked at him. “Why did they want me dead?”
He blanched. “Because according to the old government, you aren’t supposed to exist.”
“I don’t understand.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Remember how I told you that the process that created the Others also made them sterile?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Others can sometimes breed with Others. It’s rare, but it happens. There’s never been an instance where an Other has been able to successfully breed with a pureblood…until you.”
He paused to let his words sink in.
“If the public became aware that inter-breeding was possible, it would expose what those secret government labs had been up to all those years ago. The truth would ruin reputations and destroy the lives of some very powerful people. People whose families profited from the war.”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with me,” she said. “Even if I am some kind of anomaly.”
He sighed. “There are a lot of people who would rather see you dead, than let the knowledge of your birth get out. Even if you managed to survive, with the right spin, you’d be held up as proof of why the Others shouldn’t be allowed around pureblood people,” he said. “There are some people whose entire agenda rests upon the separation of purebloods from the Others.”
“Roark,” she murmured.
“If he got into office, how long do you think it would take before separation became elimination?” he asked, but wasn’t really looking for an answer.
“That’s why you refused to support him, even though he’s considered a hero to everyone on the tactical team.” The realization stunned Red. Her grandfather had lied on public records. Convinced the world that she was dead. He had risked everything to protect her, his position, his reputation—everything.
“He is only the latest of many, but don’t underestimate him. Roark can be ruthless. He’s had his assistant, Mike Travers, quietly going through the personnel files at headquarters. Roark thinks that I don’t know, but I do. I had censors put in place years ago for this very purpose.”
Fear enveloped her. “Did Travers get a look at my files?”
“Yes.” He seemed to age before her eyes.
“Did he find anything?”
He hesitated. “I don’t think so. I took great care burying the past, burying your past, but I can’t be sure. I wish I could, special one.” Robert swayed, his gnarled hand gripping the back of the chair to steady himself.
It was an honest answer, but not the one Red had been hoping for. So many lies, so many secrets, so many senseless deaths.
“I tried to find out more about Mr. Travers, but so far I’ve turned up very little. It’s almost as if he didn’t exist until thirty-eight years ago.” His gaze narrowed and speculation crossed his features.
“What does that mean?” Red asked.
“It means that either his real name isn’t Travers or he’s a lot older than thirty-eight. Let’s hope it’s not both.” Her grandfather’s brows shrouded his eyes.
“Why?” she asked.
He met her gaze. “Because that would make him an Other. An Other in the hands of someone like Roark Montgomery can be turned into the perfect weapon. They’re impossible to lose once they have your scent,” he said.
Red shuddered. “But why would Roark risk his entire political career that way? If anyone found out that he’d hired an Other, then it would destroy his campaign.”
“No doubt Roark has considered every possibility. The only reason I’ve managed to protect you this long is because the people who murdered your family thought you were dead. If they suspected that you were alive, there would be nothing I could do to stop them.” His eyes were solemn when he looked at her. “Not even the tactical team and all its fire-power could protect you, if they wanted you dead.”
The team might not be able to, but Red knew someone who could. Would Morgan accept her if she went back? Then what? It wasn’t like some fairytale where they’d live happily-ever-after. This was the dead world.
If someone uncovered the truth, Red would have to run. She’d be hunted for the rest of her life and so would Morgan, if he was with her. He might be used to hiding, but she wasn’t. How would they survive if they had to leave Nuria? How would she, if she left IPTT?
She peered into her grandfather’s loving face, gathering strength from his presence. He couldn’t help her any longer. Red leaned forward and kissed his weathered cheek. “I love you, Grandpa.”
He tapped her nose with his finger. “The feeling is mutual, special one.”
“Thank you for everything.”
“There’s no need to thank me. I’d protect you with my life,” he said. “When I look at you, I catch glimpses of my daughter. Every time I see you, I’m reminded that a piece of her lives on.”
Red couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat. She stared in an attempt to memorize his features. She had no idea if she’d ever see him after today. When she was sure that she could talk without sobbing, she said, “I have to go back to Nuria.”
“Back?” His brow furrowed.
“At least for a little while,” she hedged. Red wasn’t sure what she was going to do yet. She needed to take care of all the unfinished business, before she made any major decisions.
“But—”
Red interrupted. “A man there knows the truth about me.”
“Are you referring to Morgan?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
“Then who?” he asked. “Give me his name and I’ll take care of him.”
If only it were that simple. “The ‘who’ isn’t important.” Red forced a smile. “You’ve done enough. Morgan and I will take it from here.” She hoped it was the truth.
34
Morgan set the book balanced on his chest aside and ran his fingers through his hair. How long had he been sitting here? He stretched. Bones popped and muscles ached as he forced the kinks out of his back.
He hadn’t bothered to go home last night. Morgan couldn’t face his empty bed and Gina’s lingering scent. He’d stayed in his office and scrubbed the blood off the walls and floor. When he’d finished, Morgan had removed Little Red Riding Hood from his safe and fell asleep re-reading it. He glanced at the time. That was three hours ago.
Morgan put the book back and reset the alarm on his safe. He still wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing by shifting in front of Gina. When that hadn’t worked, he’d panicked and told her the truth.
Her horrified expression remained burned in his mind. Now, he’d have to live with whatever she chose to do and that included bringing in the tactical team.
Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder and rolled his neck, attempting to dislodge the knots. Like it or not, Gina’s suspicions about Kane had taken hold inside of him.
She wasn’t the type of woman who maliciously accused people of crimes. She was a trained field agent, who also happened to be half werewolf. He couldn’t ignore her natural instincts, though he’d like nothing more than to do so.
Normally, easygoing, Kane had recently become short-tempered, evasive, and snide. His cousin hadn’t behaved like that since the war.
Not since General Schneider kidnapped him, changed his genetics, and forced him to become a killer. Morgan thought Kane had gotten over his past, but what if he hadn’t? What if some part of him was still angry at the injustice he’d suffered?
Wouldn’t he have noticed there was a problem before now? Morgan had been busy. They both had. But surely there would’ve been some kind of sign. Maybe he didn’t want to see what was happening. That thought worried him the most.
Morgan had overlooked Kane’s rebellious behavior because the infractions were minor and he was family. Now he wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing.
Perhaps if he’d asserted himself, then none of this would be happening. Morgan scratched his chin. It was a huge leap between disrespecting his authority and murder.
Had Kane made it?
If it were anyone else, Morgan would’ve taken his cousin’s behavior as a direct challenge for his alpha position, but this was Kane. His family. The man he regarded like a brother.
Surely, he wasn’t still angry about not being named alpha after the war. Kane had been in no shape to lead. It had taken years of therapy just to get him to the point where he could function in society again.
Morgan shook his head. That scenario didn’t seem likely. If it was leadership Kane wanted, he could’ve challenged him directly. There was no need for anyone innocent to die. Kane had made it clear throughout the years that he didn’t want to lead the people of Nuria.
So why couldn’t Morgan dismiss the idea outright?
He needed a second opinion from someone he trusted. Morgan glanced at his watch and grinned. Jim would still be sound asleep at this hour. It was the perfect time to make a call.
The vidcom chirped endlessly, until Morgan was convinced that Jim wasn’t going to answer. He didn’t want to drive all the way out to the dissecting lab director’s home, but he would. Morgan glanced outside. Blackness curtained the windows, refusing to give way to the dawn.
On the fifteenth chirp, Morgan heard a click. His gaze shot to the screen and he waited for Jim’s image to appear.
“Hello,” the breathy disembodied voice said.
“Jim, is that you?” Morgan asked.
The screen brightened and a closed-eyed, scruffy man came into view. “Sheriff?” He blinked. “What time is it?” Jim glanced to the side and squinted, then winced.
“Good morning,” Morgan said.
Jim pried his eyes open and slipped his glasses on. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” The question tapered off into a snore.
