Ivy's eyes flashed green as she smiled. "I ripped out his throat, though I was nice enough to let him keep his knife while I did it. I wanted him to feel like he had a chance there at the end."
Thorn didn't look away; he seemed unconcerned by the green glow rimming her irises. "If I remember correctly, Peters attacked you several years ago when you were partners. I assume that previous attack had something to do with your decision to rip out his throat instead of detaining him?"
Ivy let out a little growl. "As Captain Donovan said, he was a man who needed to die."
Thorn lifted a brow, then laughed. "Remind me never to make you angry, Agent Halliwell. I have no problem with the decisions either one of you made. We live in a difficult, complicated world. Many times, the thing most needed is decisive action taken with a clear mind and unencumbered soul. I think you two have the ability to take that decisive action at the appropriate time. It's a talent in short supply, even in the DCO."
Thorn glanced at Frasier, giving him a nod. Frasier stepped out of the office without a word and closed the door behind him.
When they were alone, Thorn stabbed Landon and Ivy with a sharp look. "Tell me what happened down in Costa Rica. And don't even start with any of that sanitized crap you put in the official report."
Chapter 3
Minka's eyes fluttered open, but she closed them again and snuggled against Angelo. She smiled. His name was fitting, considering he was her guardian angel.
She had no idea what was happening, where she was going, or what these American military people wanted with her. All she knew was that for the first time in a very long time, she felt calm. The rage that had been inside her almost every minute of her life since those doctors had injected that red liquid into her had somehow disappeared the moment the big, handsome American soldier had wrapped his arms around her.
She hadn't wanted to attack him back in the village. When he'd ordered the other soldiers out of the building, then taken his hands off his weapon and started whispering soothing words in Tajik to her, she had thought the beast would back off and give her a chance to regain control. His scent and voice had been so relaxing, almost hypnotic, that her claws had immediately begun to retract. And his face was so beautiful-honest and sincere. With his dark, soulful eyes, wide mouth, and silky, black hair that almost reached to his shoulders, he was quite possibly the most attractive man she had ever seen. She'd been ready to take his hand and let him lead her wherever he wanted because she instinctively knew it would be somewhere safe.
But then the cries of the angry villagers had shattered the peaceful scene into a thousand pieces, and the beast had come charging back, taking control and extending her claws and teeth to their fullest.
When the beast lunged at the soldier, Minka had fully expected him to pick up his weapon and kill her. But he hadn't. And when he'd wrapped his muscular arms around her and pulled her tightly against his chest, his scent had enveloped her and a complete and total sense of peace had settled over her. She didn't know why being near him made the beast inside her go away, and she didn't care. She was Minka in his arms and a monster out of them. That was all that mattered to her.
She closed her eyes again and snuggled against him. She thought about asking where they were going, but then realized she didn't care. The horrible doctors were far behind her now and she was safe in Angelo's arms.
* * *
Angelo couldn't remember being so exhausted. He'd been holding Minka for the better part of their twenty-hour flight back to the States. He'd slipped away long enough to use the tiny restroom on the C-17 once, thank God, but other than that, he'd held her the entire time.
He didn't understand why, but Minka only seemed calm when she was in his arms. Every time he tried to put her on the seat next to him, she'd dig in her claws. And when she fell asleep deeply enough for him to move her, she immediately woke up and climbed right back into his lap. Finally, he just gave up. If the only way she could sleep was in his arms, then so be it. She looked like she needed the rest. Besides, what man didn't enjoy a beautiful woman curled up in his lap, even if she did treat him like a scratching post every time she woke up?
He'd gotten Minka to eat something a couple hours earlier, when the crew chief came down to the cargo section and tossed him a flight-crew box lunch and a bottle of water. Minka clearly hadn't thought much of it, but he'd done his best to get her to eat as much of the dry sandwich as he could. She felt so light and fragile in his arms, he doubted she'd eaten a full meal in weeks, maybe months.
As Minka had been eating, one of the sleeves on the camo overshirt he'd given her to wear had slipped down, revealing a series of scars along her forearm, from her wrist all the way up to her inner elbow. He clenched his jaw as he remembered seeing cut marks and puncture wounds like that before, on Ivy, after she'd been captured and tortured by Stutmeir and his doctors. It wasn't that hard to imagine it had been those same doctors who'd tortured Minka. Damn, why the hell hadn't the DCO found and killed those fucking psychos already?
After she'd finished eating, Minka had snuggled up against his chest and fallen asleep again. Angelo should have slept too, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Even after everything she had obviously been through-exhaustion, starvation, torture-she looked like an angel. A beautiful, peaceful angel. Seeing Minka like this, it was hard to believe she was a hybrid. She looked more like the kind of girl he'd take out on a date-if he was the kind of guy who bothered with dates.
Angelo resisted the urge to push her long, dark hair back from her face, afraid he'd wake her up. Instead, he leaned his head back against the seat. But he didn't close his eyes. They'd be landing soon. Besides, his mind was spinning way too much to consider even taking a combat nap right now. So he watched Minka sleep while he tried to figure out what he was going to do when he got to the DCO.
He'd dealt with the covert organization enough in the past to be seriously worried about what some of the people there might have in mind for Minka. He and Tanner had spent a lot of time talking together down in Costa Rica, and Angelo knew the DCO hadn't treated the hybrid very well. Sure, he was alive, had a place to sleep, and food to eat. But they watched him like a hawk, and constantly poked and prodded him like a damn lab rat. Tanner had told him once that he was alive for one reason: because he was the only known hybrid with a trace of self-control.
Angelo had no doubt that some of the higher-ups in the DCO would regard Minka the same way, like she was just another lab rat to be poked, prodded, and experimented on. Others would be less concerned with what made her tick. They'd simply want to know how they could turn her into a weapon.
As Angelo gazed down at the beautiful woman in his arms, he decided right then he wasn't going to let any of that happen to Minka. She was a person, made this way against her will, then tortured and mistreated by almost everyone around her, even her own people. She needed to be protected, not turned into a science project-or a weapon. She'd gone through enough already.
He was still thinking about exactly how he was going to stop any of that from happening when the stocky crew chief came down the steep stairs from the flight deck and moved halfway into the cargo section.
"We'll be on the ground at Anacostia-Bolling in fifteen minutes. There's a security force from … well, from somewhere to take you where you need to go, wherever that is."
"Thanks," Angelo said.
The crew chief's blue gaze fell on Minka. "Hey, I hope everything works out okay with her. She looks like she's had it pretty hard."
"I hope so, too."
The crew chief did a quick inspection of the cargo section, checking panels, lights, and wires, then headed back upstairs without another word. A few minutes later, Angelo felt the cargo plane start to descend.
Minka didn't even stir when they landed, or when the C-17 taxied for what seemed like a really long time. Heck, she didn't do much more than turn her face into his chest a little more when the cargo ramp dropped down with a rumbling hydraulic groan. Typically the crew chief would have been down there already, checking the plane's status and getting the aircraft's passengers ready to disembark. Maybe the DCO had instructed the guy to stay in the cockpit.
The rear part of the plane had been towed into an aircraft hangar, and Angelo could see three black SUVs waiting for them, along with a team of ten heavily armed men in tactical gear. DCO security, he guessed. He'd hoped Landon and Ivy would be there to meet them, but no such luck.