Page 104 of Seasons of War
Appearing satisfied, Christopher leaned back against the couch. “The woman is talented. I'm keeping her as an operative.”
“An operative,” Zayne spoke sternly.
Christopher's eyes narrowed. “Yes.”
“Hm.” Zayne raised both brows and sat back. “I'll let the Phaedra know.”
“Your father as well. Miya will help with our contact problem with Becka Rogers.”
“I don't think you want my father to know, Christopher.”
He sat forward on the couch, his voice teetering on outright anger. “Don't get prissy with me, Riven. She's a valuable military asset.”
“My father won't approve of working with a civilian, no matter how valuable. You're better off working with the Phaedra on this one.”
Looking skeptical as to Zayne's true reasoning, he glowered. “The Phaedra should have sent your brother.”
Zayne looked at Miya now, thinking that beneath her well-manicured expression, fear brewed. “Do you understand the risks of this operation? Are you prepared to face them?”
“I am,” she said.
“It'll be dangerous if the United realizes you're acting as an agent of the Phaedra.”
Christopher yanked her scarf loose and tossed it on the floor. Mottled bruises ringed her slender throat in black and deep purple. Time slowed, and Zayne's heart with it. Christopher almost killed her.
“She's strong.” He trailed his knuckles along the bruising. “I tested her myself. She handles herself well in a crisis.”
Miya's eyes looked distant, unseeing, like the dead. The way he touched her, looked at her, sawed at the remaining threads of Zayne's control. Further angering Christopher only put this woman in more danger, but someone needed to cover the bastard's entire body in bruises as dark as hers. And Zayne desperately wanted to volunteer for that job.
Brock walked to the bar for another shot, a good decision if he struggled with his temper like Zayne did. The fury almost made him miss that Miya passed up the opportunity to tug on his sympathies. After so many gestures to manipulate them, she remained stoic and unattached, despite the fact that this was her best opportunity of the night to get to Brock or Zayne.
Miya didn't like pity. It was the only vulnerability she revealed so far.
Zayne honored her by locking away his disgust for Christopher's abuse and the outrage of seeing a strong woman forced to bend her knee to him, even if she only did it to bide her time until she could strike. He didn't know Miya, but from his first impression, he doubted she planned to surrender.
“What's your plan for Miya to establish contact with Becka Rogers?” Zayne forced himself to speak about business and keep his temper at bay.
Zayne and Brock drove in silence all the way to their hotel. After they arrived and checked for surveillance, they still didn't speak until they both sat in the living room of the suite.
“It's been two hours, and I'm still fuming,” Brock said.
“It doesn't make sense that she isn't running.”
“She probably can't.”
“I don't think so,” Zayne said. “She didn't feel trapped to me. She felt in control.”
Brock fell onto his back, forearm covering his eyes. “Because she's good. That doesn't mean she can escape.”
Maybe not. “She wants something just as much as she wants to survive.”
“You think she's an operative? You read through her file in the car. Did Christopher miss something?”
“If she's with the United, or anyone else, then someone with an incredible amount of influence manipulated the database. It backs up her story.”
“Then she's stuck and needs our help,” Brock said.
“Only a dozen people can access the restricted database. No one can manipulate that.” Zayne kept staring at his laptop, calculating the risks. “I'd know for sure if I checked. There's something about her. Something more.”
