Chapter One Hundred Two

Corin Campbell wept for the man who had just been torn apart. His screams had died away, but she could still hear the gnawing, the snarls, and the sound of teeth against bone. Part of her was relieved that she hadn’t been the one on the other side of the glass, but then she felt guilty for that temporary reprieve. She certainly didn’t deserve to live over that FBI agent. Derrick was right about one thing. At her core, she was a murderer.

She didn’t open her eyes, but she heard Derrick say, “They are such magnificent creatures. Did you know . . . Well, of course, you don’t, but the Rottweiler can, thanks to their large head, exert more biting power than German shepherds and pit bulls with a force of 328 pounds—that’s about half of a shark’s, but still pretty damn impressive.”

She said nothing.

“Evolution nearly claimed the Rottweiler at one time in history. The breed had been used mainly as herding dogs, but when the railroad invaded the land, the Rotties were out of a job. They’re normally gentle giants, but they are also very malleable animals. I find it fitting that a species that fought its way back from the brink of extinction will aid me in doing the same for humankind.”

She finally opened her eyes and saw Dr. Derrick’s flawlessly handsome face and million-dollar smile. He said, “What do you say we switch gears? I think we’ve had enough of the Discovery Channel. Let’s flip the station to one of those cheesy talk shows with a long-lost reunion episode. Watch the monitors carefully, Corin.”

“I don’t want to see it. Whatever it is. I don’t want to see.”

“Trust me. You’ll want to see this.”

“Just kill me. But please, make it quick. Don’t feed me to the dogs.”

He said, “I wouldn’t feed you to the hellhounds, my dear. You’ve earned the right to at least become a lady of the lake. But it would be a shame to leave poor helpless Sammy here all alone.”

The video monitors changed all at once to the grainy image of a cell much like the one she had occupied for the past two weeks. Sammy sat in the corner, rocking back and forth, knees to chest. Her younger sibling looked pale and thin.

He continued, “I was so very enthusiastic when I discovered your genetic code. In your case, a trait coupled with the desire to survive, an ability to adapt and overcome most any circumstance. Sammy, I don’t believe, has your drive to live, but I’m willing to bet her genes are actually in pretty good shape. I think I may collect a sample and run some tests.”

Her voice was low and trembled with fear and rage as she asked, “Please tell me that she hasn’t been . . .”

“What? Raped? Is that even possible with a prostitute? I mean, in reality, isn’t that merely an equivalent crime to running out of the restaurant without paying your bill.”

“If you or your little brother have so much as—”

“Don’t worry. Sweet Sammy has been well taken care of. She is unharmed and unmolested. And she will remain that way. In fact, in a couple of days, she can go free.”

“What happens in a couple of days?”

“We’ll be free. Present circumstances have moved up my timeline a bit, but—with profits from the Diamond Room at an all-time high and my other businesses flourishing—it hasn’t been a problem in the least. I’ve already secured the purchase of my own private island, which is part of the beautiful Marshall Islands chain. The Marshalls are also a non-extradition territory. Two days from now, we’ll all be sitting on the beach of our new nation. One big happy family. And once we’re safe on the island, then things will loosen up. You might even start to enjoy it.”

She was about to say something she shouldn’t have when he turned the corner and was coming toward her. It was the man who had haunted her nightmares and repeatedly violated her in every way—mind, body, and soul.

The father of her unborn bastard child.

A wave of protective instinct washed over her, and she hoped that the overdose of sedatives Sonnequa had given her wouldn’t affect the baby.

At first, the thickly muscled man merely stood there, breathing hard, the thick cords of his body pulsing, his whole nearly naked form speckled with blood. Unlike his opponent, the man in the skull mask seemed to have come from the fight with nothing that a shower couldn’t cure.

Her mind raced for a way to end him right there, but she quickly dismissed the thought. She had seen the way he had effortlessly dispatched the FBI agent, and that man had been trained to fight. What could she do against such a behemoth of a man, especially in her half-coherent state?

Then he pulled back the metal mask to reveal his true face.

She gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth. Part of her had expected there to be nothing beneath the mask, and she definitely didn’t expect him to seem so . . . ordinary. He didn’t necessarily have an innocent face, and yet it was somehow childlike, due to a round jaw that gave him the look of the Cupid off a Valentine’s Day card. She also noticed cauliflower ears and a nose that had been broken more than once. Beneath his jaw were signs of surgical scars where doctors had apparently operated on his lower mandible.

He glanced down at her once but seemed hesitant to make eye contact. Derrick wheeled over and said, “I know the two of you have bumped into one another on multiple occasions, but I don’t believe you’ve been formally introduced. Go on, say hello, little brother.”

“Hello, Corin, I’m Stefan Granger.”

Derrick snapped, “Your name is Simon Gladstone! That was the name you were born with. That was the name that our father gave to you. While I understand why you had to forsake that name in the past, it doesn’t have to be that way anymore. You can reclaim your true name.”

“I’ve been Stefan Granger for decades now. I’ve been Stefan Granger for a lot longer than I was Simon Gladstone.”

“Now’s not the time to discuss this, dear brother. Right now, I have business to attend to. Can you please be a sweetheart and see Corin back to the common room.” Then, in his nonchalant manner, the whack-job doctor and the Good Wife headed down the hall, conversing in hushed tones.

The massive, blood-covered man looked at her but then quickly diverted his gaze. He ran a hand through his short hair, appearing nervous, like a kid about to ask a girl to the prom. He said, “So . . . did you enjoy the fight?”

“I’ve seen some horrible things in my life, but that was hands down the worst.”

He seemed genuinely hurt by her statements. “Well, I guess you better be getting back. But I did have something I wanted to tell you. It’s something I tell all the women who’ve been chosen to carry my seed. I just want to say that I’m truly sorry for having to do that to you. Derrick insists on the insemination being natural. I always try to be as quick as possible, if it makes a difference. But either way, I’m sorry to put you through all that.”

Corin wanted to laugh in his face. And she didn’t think that desire stemmed solely from the presence of the psychotropic drugs pumping through her bloodstream. The whole situation seemed so absurd. A man like this, acting shy and offering an apology.

Instead of laughing, Corin heard herself say, “My face is going to be the last one you see before you die. The anticipation of that moment is all that’s keeping me alive. Your apology is not accepted, and in fact, you can consider this to be a formal declaration that I intend to cut your heart out and feed it to your little monsters.”

He leaned down into her face, cocked his head to the side, and slapped her so hard that she nearly toppled over. In a whisper, he said, “I better get you back now. But once all this is over, and we get to the island, I intend for you and I to be spending a lot more time together.”

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