Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
“I’ve sent you everything I have on Peony. I also sent a copy to Trap,” Whitney assured.
Draden pointed to the computer, leaned down and wrote out his email address and password on a slip of paper and handed it to her.
“I want you to know, Bellisia and Zara have adapted well into the GhostWalker program. They are assets as well. You might want to rethink this plan you have of planting a virus in the women before you send them out. Losing any of them could lose us valuable assets at the wrong time.” Draden had to keep him on the line as long as possible. He needed Shylah to assure him that they had her information.
“We need soldiers, not women,” Whitney said.
“I agree,” Draden said. “But without the women we aren’t going to have the soldiers. You set up a genetic experiment. Let it unfold. That’s all I’m saying.”
“It has to be with the strongest of them,” Whitney said. “Women are weak. They fold under pressure as a rule. I test them over and over before it’s decided to use their genetic material to create a true soldier. Only the strongest deserve that honor.”
Draden kept his eyes on Shylah. She’d pulled up his email and turned to nod before she copied the file and saved it to a flash drive. Whitney might have a way of infiltrating, retrieving or destroying the document, and they needed it. She gave him the thumbs-up, and he breathed a sigh of relief. If he had to kiss Whitney’s ass in order to save Shylah, he didn’t mind. If he had to pretend to think Whitney was the coolest guy in town, and agree with his bullshit theories, then so be it.
“I’ve got to wrap this up and talk to Trap,” Draden said.
“Call if you need anything else, and, obviously, if Peony gets worse. I also need reports on the progress of the vaccine.”
Draden’s breath caught in his chest. “You have more of the virus. You’re storing it. Are you crazy? If it gets out, you saw the results. It could go global in a matter of hours under the right circumstances.”
“It’s safe.”
“It isn’t safe. You just had three men breach your storage facility.”
“They created it.”
“Because you couldn’t find a virus that would kill Peony.”
“Peony never, ever, got sick. Fortunately, she believed me when I told her I planted a virus in her before she went out, and that brought her back to me. If she had known she was free, I would have lost her.”
“Because you couldn’t make her sick, you were angry with the three you were paying to create something specifically targeted to her.”
“Only her. The virus was only supposed to kill her. She has a specific code and that should be able to be attacked under the right circumstances. They should have been able to create a virus without going so far. If we don’t have immunity from the virus, it renders it useless as a weapon.”
“Montgomery doesn’t think so.”
“Greed supersedes patriotism more often than not. You can’t put people in positions of power and expect them to turn it over to you. They know you’re smarter than they are, and they want to be able to prove to themselves that you’re not. You and I both know that.”
Stroking Whitney’s ego turned Draden’s stomach, but he needed as much information as possible. He wasn’t about to end the conversation on a sour note just in case they might need more information from him later.
“I expect people to do their job when I pay them a fair wage.”
“People are assholes, Whitney. I’m sure you’ve learned that by now. I have to go. I have very little time. Peony’s got a gift for tracking and we need her to run these men down.”
“Keep sending reports.”
Draden had enough. He hit the end button and turned to face Shylah. There was no condemnation on her face, but then he didn’t expect to see it there. He knew her now. He knew she waited on judgment. Because she hunted criminals, he thought she might see in terms of black and white, but she seemed to listen to everything with an open mind. Still, he had committed murder. There was no getting around that. It had to be said.
“Just tell me,” she said.
“Not here.” The little room reeked of the three scientists and what they’d done. He didn’t want to confess to her there, where their evil lingered.
She was the one who held out her hand, signaling to him that she was willing to hear him out, just as he knew she would. He enclosed those delicate fingers in his much larger hand, needing the connection. Even when he’d asked her to stay if they both lived, she hadn’t answered him.
They walked together across the clearing, back into the forest along the trail leading to the ranger’s hut. “We needed those files, Shylah. I would have sold my soul for them.”