Page 91 of Silver Fire

“Resigned,” Sophie whispered as she looked at Beth sadly. “I make the worst choices in men, don’t I?”

“Oh, sweetie…” Beth replied, tilting her head and pursing her lips.

Sophie cringed at her friend’s unusually gentle tone—and her lack of a comeback. Which meant her statement rang true. Sophie sure knew how to pick them. Or maybe it was the other way around and the asshole men could spot a gullible her from a mile away.

When will she ever learn?

“Why did I even think I was enough for the likes of Derek?” Sophie said morosely. “Men like him need women like Layla Robinson. Not an insipid, shapeless nerd in a lab coat.”

“You are not insipid!” Beth countered angrily. “Don’t you ever put yourself down like that again.”

“Lockwood is a fucking idiot,” Taggart growled from the driver’s seat. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thanks, Taggart,” Sophie mumbled, but tears stung her eyes again. Everyone was rallying around her. That should make her feel better, but it didn’t. Because the one person she wanted had his penis in another woman’s mouth. She had allowed another man to crush her heart again, shredding her self-esteem in the process. He had not been taken away from her, she just wasn’t enough woman for him.

“It’s OK to cry, Sophie,” Beth said softly.

“Not wasting another tear on that jerk,” Sophie said, but her scratchy voice belied her words. “But my life sucks. Honestly, how much worse can it get?”

The words had barely left her mouth when a car slammed into them from the left. Sophie could hear screaming and she was not sure if it was hers or Beth’s. After the jarring from the initial impact stopped, Sophie tried to clear the cobwebs from her head. She felt like she had gotten tossed around in a rollercoaster. She was not wearing a seatbelt and ended up on the floor of the car, Beth half on top of her.

“Beth, are you OK? Taggart?” Sophie shrieked in panic. She heard her friend groan.

“I think I hit my head somewhere,” Beth mumbled. “Oh. Am I too heavy, Sophie?”

“Um. Yeah. Taggart?”

No response.

“Taggart!”

They heard the breaking of glass followed by two gunshots.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Sophie repeated over and over, goosebumps creeping all over her body. This was how she was dying, a gunshot through the head. Beth froze above her too. The women stared at each other, the million emotions in Beth’s eyes probably reflecting her own: fear, despair, outrage and sorrow. Then the back passenger door across from them flew open and Beth was hauled off her.

“Don’t hurt her!” Sophie shouted angrily, momentarily forgetting her terror.

A man, who looked faintly familiar, leaned into the car and rested one knee on the seat. He looked over her critically as if making sure she was not hurt, then he gently pulled her up. “Finally, my beauty, I have you.”

Sophie felt a chill run through her body as his words disclosed who held her captive. Justin Bishop. A man of many disguises. The man who stole her research. Her stalker. Polly’s killer. She had spoken too soon. Things just got worse.

* * *

Derek didn’t knowhow long he was out, but when he woke up, it was like he had consumed an entire bottle of whiskey. He had the hangover from hell. He recognized the industrial looking medical bay at AGS. He got up from a bunk bed and tore off the IV that was giving him some fluids—much help that had been.

When Jack and Maia turned up at his condo, he was barely coherent. The initial adrenaline rush that had helped him fight against the haze wore off and he was left with a very bad trip. There was no question—he had been drugged. His friends immediately whisked him off to AGS and he had passed out. Sophie. The events of the previous night made him flinch. She should be here.

He was thankful that the dizziness had subsided, and he could walk steadily. He was still wearing his trousers, but the nurse had removed his dress shirt. Viktor kept a small team on retainer to supervise the medical facility. Odd gunshot wounds, broken bones and other non-life threatening injuries were treated here to keep missions under radar. Dr. Lance Henderson caught him getting up.

“Where do you think you’re going, Lockwood?”

“Sophie, Dr. Leroux,” Derek muttered. “She should be at the bunker.”

“She’s not there,” Maia said behind Lance. “How are you feeling?”

“Worse hangover ever.”

“Have a seat, Derek,” Dr. Henderson said.

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