“Loop around and get the others out of here!”
Hardy was never a tough for Jack, but a hundred and eighty pounds flying through the air at a person will leave a mark. He collided with the men and started punching.
His fist connected with one and his foot with another, but already the cudgels struck him in the ribs. He kept fighting. One punch landed with a satisfying crack.
He saw the black stick for a fraction of a second before it cracked into his face.
And then he saw nothing.
8
THE ROOM CAME INTO focus, and Hardy winced against the pain. He couldn’t tell what came from the crack to the head, and what came from the ache for breath. He closed his eyes again and lifted his head; it was the only part he could move. His arms and legs were strapped to a chair. The pain in his temple still felt fresh.
He could see her, though. Past the silhouette of her sister a few rooms over was another silhouette—a smaller one, maybe outside the building somewhere. Mara had gotten out, and probably the rest as well.
“Good morning, Hardy,” someone said, and he opened his eyes. The voice bridged more gaps in his memory. He hadn’t heard it in over a year now, but the impressions it brought back rankled at him. Jack.
“Glad you’re awake,” Jack said. He stood over Hardy, a thin man in a business suit, hair graying at the edges. “We need to talk.”
Hardy tried to speak, but his head throbbed. He managed, “What do you want?” before his jaw clenched.
“What do I want?” Jack asked. “This isn’t about me. This is all about what you want.”
The pain screamed at Jack to get to the point, and the frustration made it to his lips in a strained grunt.
“No, that’s not true. I do want something. I want you back, Hardy. Your friends got away, but what they were after is still here. You know that, though, don’t you? You can see her lying just on the other side of that wall.” He laughed. “Z did pretty good on you.”
Z. She was another tool of Jack’s. The hacked implant hadn’t sat well with him from the beginning, and now he knew why. It wasn’t hacked at all. It was coded to let her in, just like any employee. He wondered where she was now, but knew it didn't matter.
The pain struck again in a harsh throb, and Hardy clenched his teeth tighter and pushed against the bonds. They held tight.
“Too good, maybe,” Jack said, frowning. “If you can’t speak, you are useless to me.” He stood over him.
Hardy blinked again, lifting his head. He could still see Mara. She was closer, now. Inside the building?
“You remember me, don’t you?” Jack said. “It’s the flaw in those crowns. They don’t remove memories the way they should. The right stimulus and they come back, one by one. Like Mara.”
Hardy went still, fighting the urge to dig his fingers into the chair.
“You remember her, don’t you? When you met here? The way you hit it off, the brief escapes into closets or empty rooms. Plans whispered in range of cameras you didn’t know were there. We can take him down, she would tell you. Yeah. We’ll take him down. And then we’ll be together.”
Memories crashed back into Hardy. Memories so sweet they ached as much as his need for her breath. Memories of stolen kisses and sly glances. Memories of nights spent together and days spent plotting. Memories of laughter and shared smiles as they planned Jack’s downfall.
He closed his eyes, just to see her again—for the first time—and there she was. Just outside the door. He smiled up at Jack, and the man’s brow furrowed.
The door burst open, and there was chaos. He couldn’t see everything, bound as he was, but he heard a guard fall, and Jack curse. A gun rose above his head, sweeping upward in Jack’s hand, but it never made it level. Something collided with Jack’s head, and he went down, out of view.
And then everything was quiet.
Mara stared down at him, and he remembered her. She was conniving. She was deceptive and manipulative. She had changed—become more so. It didn’t matter. All that mattered were the memories.
The pain was still there, tearing at his mind. It ached for her breath, so close now, but there were other aches as well. More pressing aches. He ached for her touch, her smile. He ached to hear her voice. He ached for the chance to tell her he loved her, and that he was sorry he threw it all away. He was sorry he let her memory be held hostage, and sorry he had walked out, when he knew what he would be losing.
Jack lay on the floor, barely visible through the black that crept from the edges of Hardy’s vision. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the pain. Something touched his lips, and with it came salvation. The drug that could only be Mara’s breath coursed through him, sating his need—his need for it, and his need for her.
With each movement of her lips, memories came back to him. Nights in each other’s arms. Bonding over their hatred of who they worked for. The pain was gone in an instant, but he let the moment last—a druggie drawing every last breath and memory.
The straps fell from his arms. “Hardy,” Mara whispered, “we have to go.” Her voice was fear and goose-down pillows. “We have to get her out.”
He spun on the table and dropped to the floor. His legs tried to give way under him, but he caught himself.
Reality set in. Jack was unconscious, but his guards were still out there. And once they saw Jack, the building would be secured with him inside. And with Mara. He laughed; suddenly there was something to his name that he could lose.
“Yeah,” he said, “let’s go.”
Les was outside the door with
