“Don’t look at me like that,” she said with more starch than I would have given her credit for. “You set me up for failure.”
“Wolfe only told the Little Doll what she needed to hear.” His fingernails clinked on the tile, like a lion stalking slowly toward its prey.
“Horseshit,” Adelaide threw back at him. “I killed him. Like you wanted. You basically set me up for it; you taught me to kill fast, urged me on to it, got me all riled up to get out there and prove myself, and then it turns out I’ve bollocksed it up. I killed the man for no good reason.” She didn’t seem that bothered by the killing, more by the deception.
“Little Doll killed him for a very good reason. Little Doll needed to get her first kill in, oh yes she did.” He smiled wide, his sharp teeth looking ready to sink into a vein. “So much training, all … theoretical,” Wolfe said, surprising me with a big word. “Little Doll needed practical experience. To be a killer. To be like Wolfe. Like they want you to be.” His grin grew wider.
“I think they want me on a bit more of a leash than they have you,” Adelaide shot back. “I’m coming in at a disadvantage and you’re pushing me to break all the rules. They hand me a plum assignment, an important one that requires subtlety and finesse, and rather than get a chance to prove myself, you decided to make a mess of it for me by giving me the wrong idea.”
Wolfe shrugged. “The Little Doll is angry and fearful of the wrong people. Little Doll should be thankful that the Wolfe managed to get her over the first obstacle cleanly. Now the Doll is ready for anything.”
“Oh, I’m ready for anything, all right,” Adelaide said coldly. “But whatever comes next, I won’t be hearing it from you.”
Wolfe bristled. “Wolfe trained the Doll, taught her everything—”
“Oh, yes,” she interrupted, “you’ve just taught me a brilliant lesson.”
“And now the Doll throws it back in the Wolfe’s face?” He sneered. “Ingratitude brings a penalty of its own, Little Doll.”
“Try me,” Adelaide fired back hotly, her face red with emotion. “We both know that if it comes down to it, I won’t hesitate now.”
Wolfe hissed. “Little Doll had best watch herself.”
“Wolfe had best stay clear of me,” Adelaide replied. “I’m not your Little Doll anymore.” She brushed past him without another word, without fear of his response, and he seethed as she did it. Seethed, but did nothing else.
She made her way to the elevator, pushed the button, and waited for the door to open. Once it did, she stepped inside the familiar box, and looked out over the main floor of Omega’s headquarters. Across the distance, Wolfe still watched her, following her all the way with slitted eyes, saying nothing, and holding his place until after the doors had closed on Adelaide.
Chapter 20
I awoke to light streaming in, the feel of nausea infecting me, and a kind of grinding fatigue that seemed to have settled in my bones. I couldn’t decide which I wanted to do more—lie there and feel sick or roll over and go back to sleep. The choice was made for me a moment later as the nausea swelled and I gagged, running for the little bathroom in the corner of the room. I dodged inside to find a small toilet, sink, and a shower, all of which looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in quite some time.
I found I didn’t much care as I fell to my knees and heaved, my stomach draining its contents and making me wonder what I had done to so wrong it for the second morning in a row. I lay there stretched out next to the bowl once I was done, and I heard the door to the bedroom open. A moment later there was a knock at the doorframe.
“Everything all right in here?” Breandan’s voice came around the frame from the bedroom.
“No,” I croaked. “I just had a digestive hemorrhage that cost me everything I was going to eat for the next month.”
“That’s a lovely image,” Breandan said, poking his head around the doorframe to see me lying on the tile. “Can I get you some tea?”
“God, no.” I cradled my head. “Two days in a row of this, and I haven’t even been drinking.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s wrong, are you in the family way?” He looked down at me sympathetically.
“In the family way?” I looked at him in pity. “What is this, the eighteenth century? No, I’m not preg …” My voice trailed off as a tingle crept over my scalp. “No. It’s not possible.”
He raised an eyebrow at me and leaned against the wall. “I assure you, that from a purely physiological standpoint, it is entirely possible for women to become pregnant. I’m told it’s how we propagate the species, in fact.”