Abigail paled as Risa stared back at the attorney, her expression becoming still, frozen.
Micah tensed, forcing himself to remain in his chair as the attorney explained the tests she had taken each month and what they were for. When the attorney explained that the Whore’s Dust was still present in her system, and the ramifications of it, heat blazed in her face and fear filled her eyes.
The explanation was shaming her. Micah could see it. The knowledge that any arousal she had would be increased at least tenfold. That orgasms would be explosive. That the sexual needs would be more painful at times than others and sometimes torturous, according to how the drug worked on her system. If she had been pale before the explanation, then she was paper white when the attorney finished.
“What was the reason for this?” Abigail rasped furiously as she shoved her chair back and rose to her feet. “Look at her, and you wonder why I wouldn’t allow that morbid doctor to tell her about it? She’s been fine without knowing.”
Dressed in silk tan slacks and a creamy blouse, the older woman paced a few steps, came to a stop, then ran her fingers through her short, stylish hair.
“Enough, Grandmother,” Risa said softly. “You shouldn’t have lied to me.”
“It was for—”
“If you say it was for my own good one more ti cod forme, then I will leave Atlanta.” Risa looked up at her, and Micah saw the determination on her face, as well as the pain. “I’m not a child that you need to shelter. If you have to lie to me, then you aren’t helping me.”
Abigail covered her lips with her hand as she propped her other hand on her hip and turned away from her granddaughter.
“This is all very interesting, Mr. Stephens,” Risa said then, her voice hoarse, rough, Micah knew, from her tears. “But I’m sure you have more to do than to oversee doctors’ reports. Why are we here?”
Carl Stephens leaned forward, his gaze somber. “Your psychologist’s reports are quite factual and they’ve been sent to us monthly. In the past months you’ve reported that the memories are becoming clearer, you actually remember phrases, and you remember that the other man with Jansen Clay the night of your kidnapping mentioned stability tests and an amount of money to be paid if he managed to reproduce a drug.”
Micah watched as she followed tightly. “I was unaware you were overseeing that as well,” she said faintly.
“Miss Clay, anything you remember of that night, or your time in the hospital, is important to us. As you know, that drug is damned dangerous. Keeping it off the streets is imperative.”
She nodded jerkily. “You have the records; they’re accurate. I haven’t remembered anything more. What does this have to do with why we’re here now?”
She was lying. Micah saw it flash in her eyes. She had remembered something more, perhaps last night; was that why she had run?
Carl looked down for a long second before lifting his gaze and meeting hers.
“Someone else has managed to get hold of those records as well,” he said gently. “There’s a contract out on your life, Miss Clay. Two million dollars.” Abigail Clay cried out in protest as Risa sat frozen. “The assassin rumored to have picked it up is called Orion. His methods aren’t pleasant. Actually they’re particularly painful. He’s an international concern to the United States. This is the first time we’ve had advance notice of his intent to strike and we mean to capture him. We need your help.”
Risa swayed.
Micah was out of his chair and bursting out of the room the second he saw her eyes glaze, saw the imminent shock racing through her system. Damn Stephens. Damn them all to hell.
He didn’t knock on the door where the meeting was being held; he threw it open and stepped inside, moving quickly to Risa’s side, his arms going around her as she stumbled from her chair.
He caught her against his chest, glaring at Stephens as her nails clawed at his jacket and an animalistic sound of pain left her throat.
“Bastard,” he snarled furiously. “You could have done this easier.”
“Who the hell are you?” Abigail stood behind Risa like a protective tigress. “Release her this minute. I’ll care for her. I cared for her when you bastards left her on my doorstep like she didn’t matter.” Tears ran down her face as she yelled up at him, her hands reaching for her grand c fostedaughter, trying to pull her from Micah’s arms. “Damn you!”
Risa was dying inside.
She couldn’t cry. It felt locked inside her. She wanted to hide. She wanted to find a hole and sink inside it; she wanted to scream in agony; she wanted to plead for answers.
Why? Why her?
Her father had sat and watched as another man raped her. Helped hold her down while they injected that vicious drug inside her that made her respond, made her beg. He saw her as unworthy to even sell to the highest bidder. How sick was that? And now, just when she thought she could live, it was to find out this.
She laughed. She couldn’t believe she was laughing. Evidently others couldn’t, either, because all sound ceased in the room.
She lifted her head from Micah’s shoulder and pushed away from him. God, she didn’t want to be touched; she didn’t want his pity.
She turned to the federal attorney and laughed in his face.
“Two million dollars?” She wanted to scream in agony. “My father didn’t think I was worth f**king, my own government didn’t even get a clue when I was institutionalized for nearly two years, but someone out there thinks my life is now worth two million dollars?”
Pain lashed at her chest, stealing her breath at the compassion in both attorneys’ eyes now. Pity. They felt sorry for her.
“Risa. That’s enough.” Micah’s hands settled on her shoulders, his grip firm, warm.
She wanted to turn into him and soak in that warmth. She wanted to beg him to make it all better, to make the demons go away, to take the pain away, to find her one moment of peace. She wanted to plead for it, and she couldn’t.
“Miss Clay, I understand your anger,” the federal attorney began.
“Do you, Mr. Stephens?” she questioned him roughly. “Do you understand any damned thing at this moment?” She stared around the room. Her grandmother and her attorney. Her grandmother had kept the doctor’s reports from her, had denied allowing her the knowledge of what was going on with her own body.