Stone Cold Undercover Agent. Nicole Helm

       Chapter Two

      Gabby was wrung out. Physically. Emotionally. It had been a long time since she’d had something to react so violently against. Her breathing was uneven and her insides felt scraped raw.

      She wanted to cry and it had been so long since she’d allowed herself that emotional release.

      She couldn’t allow it now. Not with the way this man studied her, intently and far too interested. She had become certain of her power in this odd world she’d been thrust into against her will, but she didn’t believe in that power in the face of this man.

      She closed her eyes against the wave of despair and the need to give up on this whole surviving thing.

      “Gabriella. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m going to say it even if you don’t believe it. I will not hurt you.”

      The worst part was that she was so exhausted she wanted to believe him. No one had promised her safety in the past eight years, but just because no one had didn’t mean she could believe this one.

      “I guess it’s my lucky day,” she returned, trying to roll her eyes but exhaustion limited the movement.

      “I know. I know. I do. Don’t trust me. Don’t believe. I just need you to go along with some things.”

      “What kind of things? And, more important, why?” She shook her head. Questions were pointless. The man was going to lie to her anyway. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Do whatever you’re going to do.”

      “You fought me.”

      “So?”

      He stepped forward and she stumbled away. He shook his head, holding his hands up again, as if surrendering. “I’m sorry. I won’t. I’m not going to touch you.” He kept his hands raised as he spoke. Low, with a note to his voice she couldn’t recognize.

      Panic? No, he wasn’t panicked in the least. But there was something in that tone that made her feel like time was running out. For what, she had no idea. But there was a drive to this man, a determination.

      He had a goal of some kind and it wasn’t like The Stallion’s goals. The Stallion had a kind of meticulous nature, and he never seemed rushed or driven. Just a cold, careful, step-by-step map in his head to whatever endgame he had. Or maybe no endgame at all. Just...living his weird life.

      But this man in her room had a vitality to him, an energy. He was trying to do something and Gabby hated the way she responded to that. Oh, she missed having a goal, having some fight in her. The weary acceptance of the past two years had given her less and less to live for. Helping the other girls was the only thing that kept her getting up every morning.

      “What do you want from me?”

      “Just some cooperation. Some information. To go along with whatever I say, especially if The Stallion is around.”

      “Are you trying to usurp him or something?”

      He released a breath that was almost a laugh. “N—” He seemed to think better of saying no. “Who knows? Right now, I need information.”

      “Why should I give you anything?”

      He seemed to think about the question but in the end ignored it and asked one of his own. “Is it true...?” He trailed off, giving her a brief once-over. “They haven’t touched you while you’ve been here?”

      She stared hard at the man. “One time a guard tried to touch my chest and I knocked his tooth out.”

      The man’s full mouth curved a little at that, something so close to humor in his expression it hurt. Humor. She missed...laughing. For no reason. Smiling, just because it was a nice day with a blue sky.

      But she couldn’t think about all the things she missed or her heart would stop beating.

      “What happened to the guard?”

      Gabby shrugged, hugging herself against all this feeling. Thoughts about laughter, about the sky, about using her mind to put the pieces of the puzzle together again.

      You gave that up. You’ve accepted your fate.

      But had she, really, when the fight came so easily and quickly?

      “I don’t know. I never saw him again.”

      “Was it only the one time?”

      Gabby considered how much information she wanted to give a stranger who might be just as evil as the man who held her captive. She could help him boot The Stallion out...and then get nothing for her trouble. She wasn’t sure if she preferred to take the risk. The devil you knew and all that.

      But there was something about this man... He didn’t fit. Nothing about his demeanor or mannerisms or his questions fit the past eight years of her experience. What exactly would be the harm in telling him what she knew? What would The Stallion do? He’d been the one to leave her with this man.

      “As far as I know, they can knock us around as long as they don’t break anything or touch our faces. If they go overboard, or get sexual, they disappear.”

      The man raised an eyebrow. “How many have disappeared?”

      Gabby shrugged, still holding herself. “It was more in the beginning. Five the first year. Three the second. Only one in the third. Then five again the fourth. Two the fifth, then none since.”

      Both his eyebrows raised at this point, his eyes widening in surprise. “You remember it that specifically?”

      Part of her wanted to brag about all the things she remembered. All the specifics she had locked away in her brain. All the patterns she’d put together. None of the girls had ever appreciated them. She had a feeling this man would.

      But it would be showing her hand a little too easily for comfort. “Not a lot to think about in this place. I remember some things.”

      “Tell me,” he said, taking another one of those steps toward her that made her want to cower or run away to whatever corner she could find. But she stood her ground and she shook her head.

      If she told him, it would be in her own time, when she thought telling might work in her favor in some way.

      He stood there, opposite her, studying her face as though he could figure out how to get her to talk if he simply looked hard enough.

      So she looked right back, trying to determine something about him.

      He had a sharp nose and angular cheekbones, a strong jaw covered liberally with short, black whiskers. His eyes looked much less black close up, a variety of browns melding to the black pupil at the center.

      He had broad shoulders and narrow hips and even the array of weapons strapped to him didn’t detract from the sexy way he was built. Sexy. Such an odd thing. She hadn’t thought about sex or attractiveness or much of anything in that vein for eight long years.

      She didn’t know if she was glad she could still see it and recognize it or if it just made everything more complicated. Far more lonely.

      The eerie click of a lock interrupted the moment and he looked back at the door, then at her. His expression was grave.

      “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. “But this may scare you a little bit. That’s okay. Fight back.”

      “Fight ba—”

      He reached out and grabbed her by the shirt with both large hands. She screeched, but he had her shirt ripped in two before she landed the first punch.

      *