Deadly Deception by JP McLean

Author:JP McLean
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WindStorm Press

Gauzy dreams haunted me. A blinding light, a cold table. The clack of metal. A man in a surgical mask, startled to meet my gaze. And then nothing.

The incessant dripping of water woke me. How annoying, I thought, and rolled over. My stomach lurched. Saliva filled my mouth and I pried my eyes open. I was going to be sick. I tried to sit but was overcome with dizziness and flopped back onto my side on the mattress. I opened my mouth and retched. Bile burned the back of my throat. I swallowed, swallowed again and then carefully rolled onto my back. A sprinkler head protruded from a stippled ceiling.

Where the hell was I? I fought the fog in my head, grasping for answers. I’d been searching Vector Labs. I was supposed to meet Sam. What had happened?

I blinked until my vision fully cleared and then rolled my head to the left. Weak light bled around the edges of heavy curtains, masking the time of day. To the right of the window stood a dark brown door. Its brass latch wasn’t engaged. A framed notice was affixed to the door. I was in a hotel.

A notepad and pen lay alongside a phone on the bedside table. I reached for the notepad and froze. A bandage lay across the back of my hand. I pulled my hand back and tore off the bandage. My breath hitched at the sight of the puncture wound underneath.

Images of an operating room and a man in a surgical mask flared in my mind. Panic tore a chunk out of my sanity. I couldn’t gulp enough air. Heat rushed out of my body. Sweat leaked from every pore. With frantic swats, I patted my body for sore spots, stitches, missing parts.

A vision of Avery’s face pushed through my panic. Breathe, he said. Just breathe.

What had they done to me? Breathe.

Where was James? Breathe.

Was he still alive? Breathe.

Tears welled then overflowed. Breathe.

I’d found him. He’d been warm and breathing. I’d held him, and then I’d let him go. I should never have let go. I’d lost him. Racked with guilt, I rolled onto my side and let the tears rain. I lay there forever, feeling wretched, useless. A steady drip of water was the only sound, and each drip echoed in my ears as if it were a marble dropping instead.

It wasn’t until I acknowledged feeling violated that I regained control. They’d knocked me unconscious for a reason. What had they done to me? What had they done to James? Who the fuck were these people? I vowed to hunt them down. They’d better pray that James was alive.

With renewed vigour, I pushed myself up and planted my feet on the floor. My head spun. I closed my eyes and pressed my hands into the mattress, willing my stomach to stay put. When the nausea abated, I noticed a pinching sensation in the crook of my left arm. With a pull of my sleeve, another bandage emerged. Another puncture mark.

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