Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
And I sit back and smile in satisfaction, knowing that finally Adam Archer’s life is about to be blown apart—an experience he’s inflicted on so many others.
Karma is sweet.
Twenty
Logan
The creak of an opening door rouses me from my foggy state. My eyes snap open. I’ve been lying here for I don’t know how long. Long enough for the light in the window to fade. Long enough for the dark to cover me. Long enough to sense when I’m no longer alone.
“Who’s there?” My throat is screaming for water.
“A friend.” A shadow detaches itself from the wall and drifts to the foot of my bed where it solidifies into the shape of a man. Tall and slender, clad in a tailored grey suit. “Relax. I’m here to rescue you.”
Head bowed, he studies my restraints a moment, before reaching in his breast pocket and drawing out a Swiss Army knife. A few short moments and I’m free. My joints creak but I rip out the IV from my arm.
‘Thanks’ is on the tip of my tongue, but I have no idea what’s going on. As far as I know, this man could still be an enemy. A trap.
“Who are you?” I have to squint into the shadows, where he’s retreated.
“My name is Sebastian St. James.” His cultured voice, smooth and deep, winds its way into my ears. He half smiles as he returns to my side and offers me a bottle of water.
“Never heard of you.” But I take the water and gulp it down.
“I’ve taken great care to remain anonymous. I prefer it.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I own this building.”
“Then you’re not a friend.” I drop the water bottle on the floor, wishing my strength was back. If I stand now, I don’t trust myself to remain upright. If I did, I’d wipe the floor with him.
“I assure you, Dr. Wulfe, I am a friend.” He doesn’t back away from my glare, but steeples his fingers. “Allow me to start from the beginning. I own a great many things. An empire, built over many years.”
“You don’t look that old to me,” I grunt. The man facing me with such a lack of fear is smooth-faced. Thirty at the most. Young to bear such an air of gravitas.
“I started young. And I have many friends. It’s easy to amass the things you want when you’re willing to ally yourself with anyone who can help you get them.”
“You made a deal with the devil.”
“Some say that. Some say I am the devil.” His voice holds a note of amusement. “But that has nothing to do with the circumstances right now. Lately I’ve been interested in expanding my interests into the pharmaceutical realm. I acquired research by a brilliant young doctor, a prodigy of the late Dr. Laurel.”
I shake my head. I know where this is going.
“For a while now, I’ve been investigating Adam Archer. We even signed a temporary agreement for him to use my warehouse as a private research facility.”
He spreads his hands to indicate our surroundings. “My own company provides security. Not only to secure the outside of the building, but to monitor the inner workings as well. Imagine my surprise when my secret cameras show a man being held against his will. And not just any man. A former friend, college roommate, and rival of Adam Archer.”
He leans in. “And, if my research is correct, the real prodigy of Dr. Laurel. The one Adam Archer would do anything to destroy.”
“All right,” I say drily. If I wasn’t still feeling weak and woozy, I’d be outta here. Since I need a moment to collect my strength, I’m okay with listening to this stranger’s soliloquy. “You figured it all out. Now what?”
“We seem to have a common enemy. And common goals. I wish to expand my holdings into the pharmaceutical arena. You want the means and ability to continue your research—starting with the cure for Battleman’s. You have the knowledge, I have the labs. If we partner together, we could be behind the medical breakthroughs of this century.”
He lowers his hands, his face taking on a wry expression, as if he’s amused by his own forthrightness. In the middle of his earnest speech, he looked much younger. “But that comes later. Let us address the matter at hand. Revenge.”
“Yes,” I growl, unable to stop myself from showing my hand. St. James’ expression is perfectly blank. But I understand how he could be as powerful as he claims. If he’s able to speak to the heart of the matter, and offer a man exactly what he wants...he could easily rule an empire.
“Anything,” I say, even though I suspect I’ll regret it. “I’ll give you anything to get me out of here and help me bring Adam down.”
“Oh, haven’t you seen?” He turns away to pick up something—a remote—and points it at the wall. A screen comes down from the ceiling. St. James presses a few buttons and the TV flares to life.