Enslave Me Sweetly by Gena Showalter Page B

the men were relaxing and talking over coffee.
    Cool air welcomed me in an open embrace. Relieved, I tugged off my cap, and my hair tumbled down my back. I hated wearing hats because they retained heat, but I also didn’t like hair in my face. The gold locks restricted my vision—and a good assassin needed to see everything around her. I should have cut it off long ago, but it reminded me of my mother—the only reminder I had, really—so I never had. I reached up and tugged my hair into a ponytail.
    â€œTake Lucius to the prisoner,” I said to no one in particular.
    A short, stocky bull of a human immediately stepped up to my—growl—partner. “This way,” he said, not meeting Lucius’s eyes.
    Lucius made to follow him, but I stopped him with a hand on his forearm. He paused, leveling an expressionless glance at me. “Leave your weapons with me,” I said quietly.
    He laughed. Actually laughed, a booming sound that filled the room. But when he spoke, his voice was as quiet as mine had been. “Not a chance.”
    â€œDid you hear what happened to that A.I.R. agent Dallas Gutierrez when another agent took a weapon into an interrogation?”
    His smile remained, softening the harsh planes of his features. “I can handle myself. Besides, I wouldn’t do you the favor of getting myself killed before I claim my prize.” With that, he shook off my hold and strode away. At least he hadn’t called me “cookie” in front of the men.
    I turned to Ren, who had followed us inside. “Where can I observe?”
    A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he replied helpfully, “I’ll show you.”
    He ushered me down a well-lit, narrow hallway that slanted down, taking us underground. With every step, the temperature became damper, cooler. The walls were plain, a little dirty, but there were no visible cameras or sensors. Still, both were there, I knew, watching our every move. I knew how Michael operated, and the man left nothing to chance. Even though security cameras were illegal without a proper license—which Michael didn’t have because he didn’t want anyone knowing his business—I knew they were here.
    â€œWhat’s with you and Adaire?” Ren asked, breaking the silence.
    I didn’t spare him a glance. “What business is it of yours?”
    â€œLucius Adaire is a killer.”
    I had to smile at that one. “So am I. So are you, for that matter.”
    â€œNo, I mean a vicious killer. He’ll kill anything. Women. Children. I’d watch my back if I were you.”
    I didn’t allow myself to react to his words. “Well, you aren’t me.” I still wore my sunglasses, so I looked over them and leveled him with a pointed stare. “Besides that, I always watch my back—even while I’m with you.”
    The hallway finally ended. We stood in front of what looked like an average wall. Ren laid his hand against a corner section, and two panels opened. A disposable, computer-operated needle pricked his index finger, and a small sample of blood was taken.
    When the computer recognized his DNA, the wall—consisting of two steel plates—split down the middle, admitting us. I didn’t know if Ren had spoken the truth about Lucius. The two men weren’t friends, so there was a very real possibility Ren had embellished his story. However, I didn’t like to think of Lucius as a killer of innocents—the very innocents I strove so hard to protect.
    â€œCome on,” Ren grumbled, unhappy with the lack of reaction he’d gotten from me. He led me into a small room. One entire wall boasted a holoscreen that played out the happenings in the other room. I saw the small, plain blue room, the two wooden chairs. I sank into Observation’s only chair, a padded stool, forcing Ren to stand beside me.
    I watched as Lucius crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at a pale,