*****
Sam slept fitfully. Her ankle throbbed, finally pulling her out of unconsciousness. She rolled over, barely registering the softness of the bed before realizing she wasn’t alone in the room. She groaned, cursing her bad luck.
“Glad to see you’re finally awake. Now we can get on with this.”
The coldness in Jones’s voice sent a shiver skittering across her spine. Sam rolled over, pretending to sleep.
“You’re awake and both of us know that,” he said, tugging on her blanket and throwing it aside. “You might as well get up.”
Sam propped herself up.
“We have a problem.”
She crossed her arms. “Which is?”
“You led one of the Hunters to our safe house and stole our supplies. We don’t take kindly to that.”
Best to stick to what she could deny. “I had no idea what was happening. I was trying to get away from him, not lead him here.”
“I’m not really looking for your excuses at this point. I want answers.” He rubbed his chin. “And then we’ll discuss what to do about you.”
No way she’d trust his discussions. Not after he’d shot Reed mid-denial. Reed deserved it, sure. But how Jones dealt with people he disliked didn’t bode well for her.
“Answers?”
Jones nodded. “Who was that man?”
“Reed.”
“Not his name, memory-bringer. What did he do?”
Did torture master count? “I don’t know.”
“Not good enough. Why did he come after you?”
“I don’t know. Because I escaped and he wanted to torture me more.”
Jones nodded absently like he understood the sentiment. “So he’s important?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
He flipped a knife in the air. “I need more than that.”
“I don’t know anything.” Sam drew her legs up, hugging them to her chest. “Reed just showed me their experiments and they grilled me for answers. Kinda like you’re doing to me now.”
“Experiments?”
Sam watched the path of the knife. “Yeah.”
“What were they doing?”
“Can you put the knife away?”
Jones looked down like he’d forgotten it was there. “No.”
“You know Coop. Hasn’t he told you about the experiments?”
“I owe him a debt. We don’t chit-chat or trade information.”
Sam looked away. “They were testing memory-bringers.” The image of the old lady lying motionless on the table would be hard to forget. Sam shuddered to think they were probably still testing on people.
He stroked his chin. “Don’t care about memory-bringers. Did you see any illusionists?”
The compound was huge. But other than the guards, she’d only seen the old lady—and Amy. “No.”
“Good. What answers did they want?”
“Nothing to do with illusionists.”
Jones waved the knife. “What did they want?”
“Just what he said back there! He wants to stop the Gifted from using our Gifts. He wants us neutralized.”
When he didn’t respond, Sam drew back further and waited. Jones trailed the tip of the knife along the wall.
“You’ve caused us trouble. Stole our food. Put our location at risk. We’ll have to relocate.”
“I’m so sor—”
Jones held up his hand. “Save it. Your apologies carry no weight. We’ll take our pound of flesh how we feel fit.”
“Coop won’t stand for this. You owe him. You said so yourself.”
“He shouldn’t have left.” Jones moved closer.
She shifted to the far side of the bed. “My grandma and uncle are elders. They won’t stand for this. They—they’ll bring war with the illusionists rather than try to stop the Hunters.”
He paused, his eyes alert. “Oh?”
Sam bit her lip. Even if she could find her grandma, Sam wasn’t sure what her grandma would do. Her uncle was another matter. Sam wouldn’t be with Jones if it weren’t for the Hunters. “But not if I don’t come back unharmed.”
Jones shrugged, his broad shoulders drawing attention to his muscles—bulkier than Coop, and no way she stood a chance against him—and went back to his knife, trailing it along the wall. “We don’t really care for memory-bringers or their elders here. Not when you steal memories.”
“We don’t steal—” Sam cut herself off, realizing the futility of denial. Illusionists often felt the foreign energy when memory-bringers had their memories, but they didn’t steal anything. He was not a man open to changing his mind. “My grandma would not be happy.”
“I was not particularly happy when my wife was murdered or when my daughter was taken, but the Hunters didn’t give me much choice in the matter.”
His daughter. Did that make him Janey’s dad?
“I’m not your enemy.”
“If you’re not an illusionist, you’re my enemy.”
“We have a common goal.”
Jones lunged. He grabbed Sam by her hair, yanking her head. He glided the flat part of the blade across her neck, teasing her with the alternatives. Sam froze, afraid to even breathe. He angled the knife so the tip skimmed her skin. He wouldn’t really kill her, would he? His debt to Coop had to mean something. Sam squeezed her eyes shut.
“Stop messing with her.”
Jones stilled. Sam’s gaze turned to the speaker, bewildered. The girl. What was she doing? Sam hadn’t seen her move from the living room in the time she’d spent here.
“Janey?” For the first time, Jones sounded uncertain.
“If you hurt her, I won’t ever speak again.”
The knife pulled away from her skin as Janey distracted Jones. Sam could barely breathe. Would he listen?
“Go back downstairs and wait for me. We’ll talk about this after I’m done.”
“Leave her alone, Dad.” Janey stepped into the room with a flip of her braid over her shoulder and leaned against the door frame, crossing her arms.
“This memory-bringer isn’t your concern, Janey. Go.”
Janey shrugged. “Your choice. But if I go, I’ll never speak to you again.”
Jones’s grip lessened on her hair and the knife slipped away completely. Hope surged through her and she gasped in relief. But when she tried to move, Jones yanked, tugging again. “Not yet, memory-bringer.”
“Ten seconds, Dad.”
He pointed the knife at Janey. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
“Eight seconds.”
“Dammit, Janey.”
Jones stood, tossing Sam back on the bed. “Don’t move.” He strode over to the door, barely sparing Janey a glance, and spoke to someone outside. “Guard the room until I get back.” He grabbed Janey’s arm, dragging her away.