“Who knows where it is? Unless it’s someplace isolated, we won’t know where to look.” Peter threw back his scotch, after all, and folded into his chair. “No, we need to speed this up. At least try something while we wait.”
“Want me to go rattle her some more?” Skull offered.
Peter closed his eyes, the gears in his head turning fast despite the late hour. “No, that’s not enough. She’s not scared of us.”
“Then who? There’s the Devil’s Whore in the cell next to her, but he doesn’t give a shit about her.”
Peter sat up straight, remembering the eighth prisoner who’d slept through the conversation, his face to the wall. He still had trouble imagining how Pain had gotten him there. The Beast really wouldn’t care about Victoria, but she would hate someone like him. A cold-blooded killer, someone to get under her skin.
Someone not like Peter at all.
He fished in his pocket for his cell phone, pointing a finger at Luke.
“Get another glass. We need Phoenix.”
Chapter 31
Phoenix showed up fifteen minutes later, nearly bowling Luke over as he stalked through the office door.
Everyone fell silent as they took in his blood-splattered form, his heavy coat hanging askew as he dragged some poor bastard into the office, blood smearing on the floor, teeth clacking on the threshold, and feet tied with a rope that Phoenix’s scarred fingers gripped like a vise.
Luke stared at the six feet and two inches of scars and fury before him, eyebrow arched. “Don’t you look lovely today?”
Phoenix narrowed his only eye. “I woke up like this.” And he went straight for the bottle.
“Who’s that?” Peter asked, pointing at the tied-up man.
Phoenix shrugged. “A friend.” He put the empty glass back on the table. “I wasn’t done with him when you called. Thought I could use the basement.” He ran a hand through his short red hair, shaking off dried blood like a flea-ridden dog. “You wanted something?”
“Yes. I thought you might help us make Victoria talk. We don’t have much time, and we gotta press her, but we have to do it right.”
Phoenix nodded, and Peter filled him in on the plan. By the time Peter was done talking, a troubled grimace had set on the man’s face.
“I’m not sure I’m any good at this, the whole get-under-her-skin thing, but I’ll try,” he said. “I’m sick of these humans scaring away my game. You dug up anything on her?”
“There was a contract with Houston HQ, something to do with her husband and a group of terrorists in Kuwait. Both he and Victoria served in the Army. Houston refused to reveal any details, but I suspect it was bad. Because Victoria’s husband ended up wheelchair-bound and with severe PTSD. The trail stops at the clinic. She checked him out, and they went off the grid. Maybe she was looking for other ways to help him and found whoever is sponsoring the Commandos, or they found her. We need to find a way to get through to her. Maybe we can give her what she needs in exchange for information.”
Phoenix blew out a breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “Shit, that’s tough. I guess I can work with that.” The man at his feet stirred, and Phoenix blinked, as if surprised he was still there. “Ugh, I suppose there’s no time for this then.”
He crouched, slapping the man’s cheek to bring him around. “Change of plan, motherfucker. This is your lucky day. Don’t thank me.” He grabbed the man’s head and snapped his neck, the ugly sound bouncing off the bare walls.
Peter blinked, speechless. Phoenix had always had his ways, but knowing about it and watching the man at work were two different things.
He dropped the dead Beast and straightened up, rubbing his hands. “I’m starving. Just let me go wash up and eat something, and I’ll get right on it.”
Peter snapped out of it with a shake of his head. “Actually, I’d rather you didn’t. This is perfect.” He indicated the man’s messy outfit with a wave of his hand.
Phoenix looked down at himself. “Really?”
“Yes. More blood would be even better. Maybe we could break your nose, too. Skull?” Phoenix stared at him, and Peter smiled. “Kidding. I’ll get you something to eat.”
He headed to his fridge, smiling as he heard Phoenix grumble, “Fuck off. My nose stays the way it is.”
“Just a little,” Skull insisted. “I’ll be gentle.”
“I said, fuck off.”
* * *
Dave cradled a cup of coffee in his hands, lost in thought.
The others had left the canteen a few minutes ago, but Dave stayed, too captivated by what was going on with him to move. He hadn’t seen it at first, the rippling air that surrounded his table. But he had sure as hell felt it, because for once, he’d been paying attention.
Since the night he’d invited his power back in, it had been a constant presence inside him. He wanted to ignore it, but sometimes a mere thought was enough to bring it forth. Like now—he’d asked Jane if anyone had ever made a shield against bullets, and there it was, his shield. Just a regular one, probably, not like he could test it but still. It wasn’t anything like the others’.
He’d switched it off before anyone noticed, only to turn it back on the second they left. It felt strange, this bubble of energy, ready to snap back into him at any moment. This resistance between them, the charged air inside.
Dave inhaled, allowing it to shrink a little, and exhaled, spreading it even farther out. It was an exercise Albert had shown him—a way to learn control, to feel the connection with his power
