Page 55 of Fully Loaded

She hit Send and then stared at the screen until it went dark. Pressing her back to the wall, she slid down the drywall until her butt hit the floor.

Brock, where are you?

Chapter

Twenty

A loud humming dragged Brock out of the depths of unconsciousness. The hum turned into a dull buzz behind his ears, reminding him of the sizzling zap that had instantly debilitated him. He blinked his eyes open and stared at white ceiling tiles. His body lay flat and a bright light was directed at his face. He grunted, turned his head, and heaved his body forward to sit. He couldn’t move. His arms remained at his sides despite his pushing. What the hell? He blinked until his eyes adjusted to the white fluorescents and then brought his attention to his arms. Brown leather straps were coiled around his wrists and a larger one was strapped across his legs, restraining him to a medical examination bed.

Fear jerked through him, and he yanked and bucked against the restraints.

“Please, don’t waste your time.” The sharp click of high heels approached, and pale, slim fingers swung the light away from him. Brock studied the middle-aged face, and recognition fired through his still-muddled brain.

The woman from the train.

Her blonde hair skimmed her collarbone and her stony brown eyes moved over his bare chest.

Who had taken off his shirt?

“What the hell do you want?” he said through clenched teeth.

She pursed her lips. A hint of a smile flared in her eyes then disappeared. “I have what I want.” She reached into the pocket of her white lab coat and held the flash drive between her thumb and forefinger. He lurched toward her. She didn’t flinch.

“Thank you for delivering it. Even though you had to complicate things so much.”

“Who are you working for?” he growled. “Giles Artis?”

Some of the color left her cheeks. She broke eye contact, paced to a desk at the other side of the small room, and placed the flash drive on it. A younger woman, also wearing a lab coat, sat at a desk in front of a computer.

The blonde snorted and picked up a clipboard. “No. Giles worked for me. He’s . . .” She tilted her chin thoughtfully. “No longer employed with us.”

She killed him. Brock opened and closed his fists. “Who’s us?” He had a pretty good idea, but the need to keep her talking and delay whatever sick activity she had planned made him ask.

“That’s enough questions.”

Indignation singed the back of his neck. “What do you want with the formula?”

She rolled her eyes and made an impatient sound. “I don’t want to have to gag you, so mind your tongue. Though I see I’m going to have to explain some things to you in order for you to cooperate.”

He closed his mouth. This whole thing was useless. He needed to get to Dani before Ubrigg returned. He glanced around at the bare walls until he found a clock near the steel door: 1:22 a.m. He was half an hour late. By now, Dani would be frantic. Ubrigg would be back soon. He had to get the hell out of here. “We saw you on the train and at our hotel. How did you find us?”

Her cheeks puffed with an impatient breath. “Danielle was very elusive, but once we secured a good image of her face from a street camera leaving Ubrigg Lichti’s building, we could follow her throughout the city, although it took a lot of time and effort keeping track of her.”

His blood turned to ice. “The Interpol agent, Rudolph. He was working for you.” It was the only way she’d have access to that kind of technology other than an advanced hacker, but it explained Rudolph’s involvement and attempt on Dani’s life.

“That will be enough.” The older woman’s eyes turned small. “How much do you know about the formula?”

Her question made him shift his stare to her. He’d tell her everything she wanted to know if it got him out of here sooner. “I read through the formula and documents. I know Chrisolicom is a deadly virus that has no cure. I know Giles planned to release it on several major European cities to wipe out half the population.”

She leaned back against the desk. Her assistant lifted her lashes and glared at him, deadpan, before returning her attention to the computer screen.

“You’re not far off. Giles got a little ahead of himself, which is why he was . . .” She cleared her throat. “Terminated. I’m not stupid enough to release a deadly virus with no recourse. I have a family of my own, and we need a cure before this sees the light of day.”

He worked his jaw back and forth and slid his gaze to the clock and then back to her.

“Genevieve,” she said, gesturing to the younger woman, “has come up with a theory for an anecdote. The thing is, we don’t have a test subject.”

A lead ball formed in Brock’s chest. His breath stilled in his lungs.