“Does she know yet?” he asked as he read the reports on the tests that Risa was required to take monthly. The presence of the Whore’s Dust in her system hadn’t abated, and put last night into clear perspective for Micah.
It didn’t help the rage building inside him but made it understandable. The Whore’s Dust created an almost violent reaction during intercourse, especially for a woman. The explosive clash of sensations was often terrifying; the sexual release, if it was even attained, was stronger, and only built the need higher.
This was how Risa had handled it. She didn’t let it happen. The toys in her drawer didn’t help. And the night before, in his arms, she had fought her release with such strength that if she’d orgasmed, it had been no more than a weak facsimile of what it could have been.
Damn her.
Damn Fuentes and that f**king drug.
“According to her doctor, and we had to send Nik in to talk to him, Abigail Clay threatened his reputation, both public and private, if he informed her granddaughter of the effects. She stated Risa was terrified enough of her own body; she didn’t want to make matters worse.”
In ways, Micah almost agreed with her.
“Who’s going in to talk to them first?” he asked.
He knew what had to be done. There was a contract on Risa’s life, and the enemy Micah had been searching for for six years was rumored to have been given the job. The same man who had killed his mother, and ultimately his father, was now waiting for the opportunity to slice into Risa as well.
It was tied directly to her kidnapping. The U.S. government had known there were other men involved, especially an as yet unnamed scientist who had been trying to reproduce the date rape drug after the death of Fuentes’s scientist.
Diego Fuentes cDieraphadn’t known the scientist. All he had known was that his contact, Jansen Clay, was working with the other man to re-create the drug. Diego had blocked them several times, simply out of greed. He wanted to control the creation he had bankrolled. He hadn’t wanted others’ greedy fingers involved in it.
But why strike at Risa now? The only answer was her medical records. Someone, outside of the government, was finding a way to keep watch on both her medical and psychological files, because in the past months she had begun having flashes of memory. Voices, shadowy faces. She was remembering more than just a hazy, distant dreamlike version of what had happened to her that night and during her stay at the asylum. She was actually beginning to remember details.
“I’ll go in first with the attorney from the Department of Justice,” Jordan finally answered Micah. “We’ll need Risa to sign off on this, otherwise, the DOJ will walk away from her. If he walks out, then we’re pulled off the assignment. Let’s pray she listens to reason.”
Oh, she would listen to reason, one way or the other, Micah promised silently.
He laid the file aside and focused on her now. She wasn’t wearing makeup. Her hair had been pulled back from her face and tied at the back of her neck. Her eyes were shadowed with dark circles, her lips were compressed, and there was a flush mantling her cheeks—remnants of lust. He well understood that, though he knew the strength of it was more from the Whore’s Dust than her inability to cl**ax the night before.
Hell, if he’d had that doctor’s report he would have known what the hell was wrong with her. Instead, the team had relied on the abbreviated report that Abigail Clay had overseen.
That old biddie was so damned protective of Risa now that she was worse than a junkyard dog. The old woman had nearly collapsed when she had learned the truth of what her son had done to her granddaughter. Micah had heard Kell and Clint’s report of the night they had rescued her from the asylum and contacted the grandmother. When she had arrived at the hospital and learned the truth of what had happened, the grandmother had attacked Clint. Not because her son was dead but because she hadn’t been able to kill him herself.
She had overseen her granddaughter ever since, despite Risa’s refusal to allow it.
“The attorney is here, Jordan.” Nik opened the door and stuck his head inside, his long Nordic blond hair falling over his face, his icy blue eyes piercing the darkness. “He says rock and roll.”
Jordan nodded, collected his files, and left the room.
Micah turned his attention to the room.
Risa sat in full view of the mirror, giving Micah a clear view of her from the other side. Those damned baggy clothes she was wearing pissed him off. The long white blouse was pulled out over loose slacks. She wore flat shoes. She was hiding. If she thought dressing like a bag lady was going to still his desire, then she’d better think again.
He inhaled slowly, deeply, and watched as the federal attorney stepped inside with Jordan.
“Mr. Landowne. Ladies.” The attorney nodded to them as he took his seat at the end of the table. Jordan sat at the other end, remaining silent.
“What’s the meaning of this, Carl?” Attorney Landowne flashed the federal attorney a glare. “Since when do you call me Mister?”
“Sorry, Marion.” The federal attorney grimaced. “This is official. We have some news that affects your client, and an official proposition for her. I wasn’t certain you’d want to keep this on a first-name basis under those circumstances.”
Carl Stephens stared back at the private attorney coolly. Stephens’s graying brown hair was brushed back from his face, his hazel eyes were somber.
“What is the meaning of this?” Abigail Clay leaned forward in her chair, her renowned fiery temper sparkling in her light blue eyes. “Carl, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. You were a friend of the family for years, before Jansen’s evil infected that relationship. Don’t start pulling bull on me, because I know you too well to tolerate it.”
“Grandmother.” Risa’s voice was warning. “You promised to behave yourself.”
Risa appeared calm. She sat, her arms crossed on the table, her expression composed, but Micah saw the fear in her eyes.
Abigail Clay grimaced, her lined face tightening as a flash of agony pierced her gaze as she looked at her granddaughter. The old woman’s hands trembled and her lips tightened as she sat back with a furious look at the attorney.
“Thank you, Miss Clay.” The federal attorney glanced at Risa. “We informed your doctor of the penalties of withholding information from the government, Miss Clay, and from his patient.” He nodded at her before turning back to Abigail. “I should inform you before we begin that I need to take a moment to explain to Miss Clay the truth of the tests her doctor has done each month.”