Polar Opposites (In Aeternum Book 4) (30 page)

The man took one step toward her. He fell. The other two collapsed the next second. She stared at them, their sightless eyes gazing through her.

Bailey touched her face, fingers sliding through something. Drawing her hand away, she stared at the red staining her fingertips. Like her paints. Anger grew inside her. They had no right to ruin her day and take them from her. It rose and swelled like the waves crashing on the shore.

Black boots appeared past her fingers and she glanced up. Him she knew. He sank to his haunches before her and held out his arms. She didn’t move, just blinked at him a few times and showed him the blood on her skin.

There was a small room in the back of her mind. She pushed all these memories there and walked to the room beside it. She let herself in this door and sat on the purple bed waiting for her. It was where she went when she was scared. Where nothing could harm her and she wasn’t ever afraid. She wasn’t ever leaving again. Until she was strong enough to do more than just stand there. As she would grow, so too would her anger. Then people like them would pay the price. They would suffer.

“It was my birthday,” she muttered to him before shutting down mentally. “I was supposed to have cake.”

He lifted her in his arms and whispered words to her that meant nothing. As he carried her, he tried to keep her head away from the direction her parents were.

“It’s okay to cry, Bailey,” he said when he placed her in his vehicle.

It might be okay, but she wasn’t about to do it.

* * * *

Bailey sat up in bed, sweat dripping down her face and back. Her heart pounded erratically and she struggled to breathe without sounding like she’d run until her lungs had burst.

She reached for her light and clicked it on the moment her fingers found the knob. She’d not had that dream for longer than she cared to admit. She’d locked it away, never wanting to relive those horrific moments again.

Slipping from the bed, she searched for her robe. She drew it on as she made her way from the bed to the kitchen. A hot drink was in order. While the water heated for some tea, she sat on her sofa. Legs up and arms wrapped around her shins, she rested her chin on her knees.

The tremors wouldn’t stop and she eventually reached for the blanket draped over the back. Even with that around her, she didn’t feel any warmer. It hit her, what she had to do. She pushed up, the blanket falling off her shoulders and landing wherever. Bailey walked to her room, turning off the stove on her way, and stripped.

Her shower was swift and she barely dried off before dressing. Her actions were almost mechanical as she gathered what she needed to take with her. Once it was all in hand, she swung her pack on her shoulder and left the apartment.

On the street, she flagged down a taxi and gave her destination. He stopped her before the airport where she paid and climbed out. Deliberate steps took her inside where she purchased a ticket on the first flight she could have. She didn’t complain about being slowed down through security—nothing much mattered at this moment. She needed one thing.

Bailey didn’t rest on the flight, she stared out of the window at the starry sky. When she reached her destination city, she went through customs and was welcomed back to the United States. She took another taxi out of the city limits and to a large house seated on three acres. When it stopped at the apex of the drive, she climbed out and tossed him some bills. She made her way to the door over the snow-shoveled walkway and pressed the doorbell.

The door opened and she found herself staring up at the man who probably knew more about her than she did. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“There a reason you’re on my doorstep?”

She tipped her head back and asked her own question in return. “Did I ever cry?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Santiago, Chile

Thankfully, the superintendent of Bailey’s building let Ivan in. He’d told him he needed to check to see if she was okay because she’d been sick. The man had met him a few times and hadn’t had an issue with allowing him entrance.

Alone in her place, Ivan looked around before making a beeline for her bedroom. He paused in the living room, a blanket hung partway off the couch to gather on the floor. Not like her. She was meticulous about her living quarters.

He picked it up, folded it and laid it back along the top of the sofa. Then he went to her room. The bed, unmade, had him frowning. Something wasn’t right. At her closet, he stared in the back, grateful at least in a sense and disturbed in another to discover her bag she took on jobs resting there.

What the crap is going on here?

He picked up her phone and dialed her number. Voicemail.

“Bailey, please call. I’m worried about you. We need to talk.”

He went to the kitchen and found it was clean. Ivan stared at her floor safe and wished he knew the combination to see if her weapons were there or not. Unsettled, he closed up her place, lowering the window that had been open an inch and latching it. As he headed down from her apartment to the street, his phone rang.

He answered without looking at the screen. “Bailey?”

“No, this is Howland. I need you at the office. Mine. Now. There’s a car waiting for you outside your apartment.” She hung up and he swore in a low streak.

Ivan jogged back to his place and found, sure enough, the car was there. He hopped in the back and waited for the driver to get going.
What does this woman need now? I have more important things to do, like find out where Bailey is, than spend time with this harpy in her office.

They pulled up to the farm and drove to the entrance. Ivan climbed out and walked away, disappearing inside the building. He dug for his card to swipe it when he got to the back room. The wall opened and he stepped into the elevator, waiting for it to take him down to the correct floor.

Howland’s office was one of three on her floor. He’d been to hers once before—the thing was massive. Not much in the way of personality, however. He shrugged.
Perhaps that’s changed since I was there last.

He strode up to her door and knocked.

“Enter.”

He really didn’t want to. Ivan turned the knob, pushed and stepped inside. A cursory glance told him she’d not added anything to make this room more serene.

“Sit.”

“Morning to you, too, Howland.” He walked to a leather chair and sat.

He faced the back of her chair and he remained silent, waiting for her to turn around. She finally spun to meet him, elbows resting on the arms of the seat she occupied. Howland was an Asian woman who seemed rather unforgiving at times. She liked results and hated delays of any kind.

She must have such a headache. Then again, with that stick so far up her ass what’s to say she even feels how tight that appears to be.

Her hair had been drawn back so tightly he didn’t think any one strand was out of place. The look, harsh. A perpetual scowl existed on her face and he kept his blank.

“Were we supposed to exchange pleasantries?” She blinked her dark eyes at him.

“Supposed to? Nope, but I was raised with manners.” He couldn’t help it, this woman just made him want to needle her. Just to see if he could get through that icy demeanor and find a living soul beneath the robot.

Everything about this woman screamed severe. From her hair style to the dark, sexless suit she wore. Many thought her a tyrant and a bitch to work for. He agreed, she was a bitch, but for the most part she stayed out of his way, for he’d shown he wasn’t afraid of her.

“Some days I get the feeling you don’t care much for me, Doctor.” She laced her fingers below her chin. “Miraculously, I don’t give a fuck. I’m not here to win any personality contests.”

That’s not going to be an issue. I worry to see what kind of world it is where you would win one.
“The reason I’m in your office on a day off would be what, exactly?”

“You’re being temporarily reassigned.”

What the fuck?
“To where?”
And for what goddamn fucking reason? I have been with this lab since it got off the ground.

She dipped her head and he noticed a file he’d not seen before on the smooth top of her shiny, black desk. “Everything is in there. You leave tomorrow. That’s all. You’re dismissed.”

Dismissed, like he was a schoolchild who needed to be reprimanded. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he stood and reached for the blue file. “Ma’am.” He walked out, shutting the door behind him.

As he made the trek to his own office, the file stayed closed in his hand. He wasn’t about to start looking until he was in his place. Leaving tomorrow, that was bullshit.

Waving absently at some workers, he stepped into his office. He kicked the door closed behind him and tromped to his seat. Slapping the file on the desk, Ivan closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Then he opened them and the file.

Georgia. He was going to Georgia. A smaller town named Danielsville.
Shit, do they even have more than a thousand in population?

He read on. His flight would leave at five forty-three in the morning. He would eventually end up in Atlanta where a car service would pick him up then take him to Danielsville. That was it—there was no explanation about what he’d be doing there, much less how long he would be there for.

Picking up his phone, he pressed the button for Chrissy’s office.

“Hey, boss. Aren’t you supposed to be having a day off?”

“Howland called me in.”

“Oy, that’s not good. What’d she want?”

“I’m being reassigned.”

“What?” She sounded exasperated. “How can this happen now? We’re just about to make real headway with…” Several deep breaths came over the phone. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning. So I have to wrap up my end. If you and Trick can come down to the lab and meet me there, I’ll pass everything I have on to the two of you so you can keep going with the research.”

“I’ll grab Trick and we’ll be there in less than ten.”

“Thanks.”

He ended the call and went to the closet where he withdrew the box he’d had when he’d first moved into this office. He didn’t have too much and it didn’t take him long to pack his belongings away.

Ivan carried it with him to the lab and set it on a back table before meeting the women by the computers. Trick looked at him with a sad smile on her face.

“What the hell is she thinking?” Chrissy had her hands on her hips, defiance in every inch of her.

“Howland does what Howland thinks best. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but if you two will keep me in the loop, I will be able to not fall behind. Also, perhaps add suggestions as if I were here.”

“Where are you going and what for?”

“The States and I haven’t a damn clue.” He walked back to his box and grabbed the tablet, which sat on top. “This is what I have that hasn’t been shared yet. I worked on this the past two nights.”

He took the drive Trick handed him and downloaded the information on there before handing it back to her. They talked for another two hours before he smiled at them both.

“I have to get going, I still have to pack my things.”

“I hope you come back soon, Doc. Things won’t be the same without you here in the lab.”

“All will be fine. You two take care and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Chrissy smiled. “Sure.”

Trick stood and he stuck out his hand. She flicked her gaze from his hand to his face. With a small shake, she jumped in his arms and hugged him. Ivan didn’t even hesitate, he just hugged her in return. These two women were like sisters to him and he was going to miss them both, so much.

Chrissy was next after Trick stepped away. He smiled once more at them both then turned away and walked to the door, swiping his box along the way. He never once looked back as he trekked to the elevator.

What awaits me in Georgia?

* * * *

Somewhere in the United States

“You look like you could use this more than I could,” McNeal said, handing her a shot of whiskey.

“I don’t need a drink. I need to know the answer to my question. Did I even cry?”

“What are you talking about?”

He sat in a large armchair then gestured for her to take one across from him. The flames in the fireplace licked at the stone surrounding them, sparking occasionally before going back to their mesmerizing dance.

“I remember that day.”

He rubbed his chin. “What day?”

She downed the whiskey in one drink, eyes watering at the bite it delivered descending her throat. “The one where my parents were killed right before me. Why are you pretending you don’t know? You were there. You came to me, carried me to your vehicle. You were the one who told me it was okay to cry. So, I’m here asking you if I did. Answer me,
Uncle
. Did. I. Cry?”

He leaned forward, pulled the decanter off the tray then poured himself a glass. “You know, they said it was repressed, that you’d shut it away just to cope. That it may or may not resurface.” He took a sip.

Anger coursed through her. “Newsflash. It did resurface. And I want answers.”

“Do you really think that best?”

“Do you really think it wise not to give me what I’m asking for?”

He leaned back and swirled the liquid in his glass. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m not in the mood for games, McNeal. I’ve not slept since the dream—nightmare—I should call it what it is—woke me. My patience is damn near non-existent and you don’t know what weapons I have on me. Short fuse. Assassin. Tired and wanting answers. Not a good mix for you.”

“No.”

She wanted to punch him. “No? No what? You’re not telling me? You’re agreeing it’s not a good mix for you? What?”

“No, as in, no you didn’t cry. Not once. Not ever so long as I knew.”

“Why the subterfuge?”

“I don’t follow.”

“When I met you as Kevin McNeal, why didn’t you tell me the truth about who you were?”