The Gender Lie(80)

I hurriedly set her handheld back in the drawer and closed it while tucking mine back into the pocket in my forearm. Then I moved off to the corner and clenched my muscles, watching the lab through the window-walls of the office.

Desmond appeared, walking at a slow, steady pace. I watched as she entered the room, crossed to the desk to grab some files, and then walked out, retreating the way she had come. I kept my muscles tense and moved cautiously toward the drawer where her handheld still was. If I could just reach it…

Then came the slow, deliberate sound of a gun cocking.

I stalled, turning back to the door.

Desmond was standing there, staring back at me. Her lips were twisted in a disturbing smile, the rest of her face hidden behind goggles that were a familiar hue of red, indicating thermal scanning. A stab of frustration coursed through me as I slowly raised my hands and faced her and her pistol.





34





Violet





Tim’s eyes were wide as I quickly explained our plan to him. I expected him to balk or show at least some doubt, but after I’d finished, he nodded, his eyes alive.

“It’s… a good plan,” he whispered, stroking Samuel’s fur.

I stood up, feeling nervous, but also confident. Once we had evidence on Desmond, things would be better. And who knew, maybe whoever succeeded her would let us continue to work with them. I had really come to like the people here and would hate to have to leave like this.

I started to check my watch for the umpteenth time, when I heard crackles that sounded like a microphone coming in over speakers.

Then I heard the distinctive sound of Desmond’s voice, rich with disdain, like sugared venom. “Violet Bates,” she announced. “I would like to invite you to meet me in the training room. That is… if you’d ever like to see your precious boyfriend again.”

The icy hand of fear crept down my spine, but then I felt a bolt of pure annoyance. I let out a bitter laugh, startling Tim. He gave me a look of concern, but I waved it off, pinching the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “Sorry, Tim,” I said after the moment of laughter had passed. “It’s just… we’re never going to be those people who get to sit in the spectators’ stands, y’know?”

Tim thought about it a second, and then smirked back at me. “Nope,” he agreed. “But… not boring.”

“Not boring,” I muttered as I weighed my options. Given Desmond’s message, she wasn’t likely to give me a lot of time to do much. I looked at Tim, who was watching me closely, his face shark-like in anticipation. I rubbed my temples. The options weren’t good. I needed to get to the training room.

But Tim didn’t. Neither did Ms. Dale. If I could just get them out, maybe even using the dreaded ventilation system to help get them past Desmond and the Liberators, then they stood a chance. Viggo and I would have to find some other clever means of escape.

“Tim—you need to get Ms. Dale and run. Use the ventilation shafts to move if worst comes to very worst and keep heading up. You have to go down to that room again, and then follow the other hall. There’s a ladder that will take you up.”

He shook his head, denial stamped on his features. “No,” he said stubbornly.

“Tim, I can go help Viggo, or I can stay and make sure you get out alive. If I go and help Viggo, then I have a chance of saving him.”

“How?”

In response, I pulled out a pistol—another object I had pilfered from the supply room. I had tucked it into one of the many dangling bags on the harness, and then slid it out when Viggo wasn’t looking. I hadn’t been sure he would approve at the time. The ammunition was live—meaning that it would kill.

Tim’s eyes went wide as he stared at the gun. “Oh,” he replied.

I tucked the gun back against the small of my back. “Go,” I said, urging him to the door. “And don’t forget Samuel,” I reminded him. It was an unnecessary reminder—the dog followed him everywhere.

Suddenly the same crackle filled the air. I turned, half-expecting to see Desmond right behind me on the ramp, but she wasn’t. Still, a bead of sweat dripped from my forehead.

“Ms. Bates, you only have a few precious minutes left to save him,” she said, practically singing the words in her triumph.

I took a step onto the ramp. “Do it, Tim,” I ordered, my voice coming out harshly.

I didn’t look back as I marched down the row. He wouldn’t argue with my back to him, and I didn’t have time to entertain his argument, even if he planned to. Viggo’s life was on the line—again—and if Desmond thought she was going to take him from me when I had just gotten him back, she had another thing coming.