Page 43 of Protector

“And were you aware that his orders were not standard procedure for a hostage situation involving a government employee with Dr. Thompson’s security level?”

“I was.”

Officer Welsh makes a couple of notes on his pad before he looks back up at AX2. “Did he give any indication why he chose you specifically for this mission, rather than one of the other AX models?”

“He said I was the best he had.”

Another scribbled note. “Is that true, Dr. Thompson? To your knowledge, is Mr. Thompson the best option your father would have at his disposal for a rescue mission? Is he qualified above the rest of the AX class?”

She is silent for a long moment. “No. The AX class is largely homogenous on physical skills. There would be no advantage in selecting AX2 specifically.”

Welsh flicks his notepad backward a few pages, eyebrows raising a quarter inch. “You say there’s no difference in their physical capabilities… Perhaps he had another reason to pick Mr. Thompson specifically to save you? That business with AX1 three years ago?—”

“That’s classified!” she snaps, glancing quickly in AX2’s direction for the first time since they’ve entered this room. Her hand jolts underneath his, retreating from his thigh.

The officer looks from her to AX2, then back again. “He doesn’t remember?”

“As I said, it’s classified,” she all but snarls, and there’s more than a little of her former self in her demeanor as she spears Welsh with her steely gaze. “What has this got to do with my kidnapping?”

The urge to ask what they’re talking about burns his esophagus, and it’s only his merciless training that keeps him biting his tongue. Whatbusinesswith AX1 would make the general pick AX2 out of the group to rescue his monster of a daughter?

As far as he’d assumed, AX1—the prototype from which he and those that came after were crafted—is long dead, much like every other missing number between he and the other handful of AX soldiers he’d met.

But that phrasing,he doesn’t remember… That indicates he’d at least been alive while AX2 was far enough along in his creation process for their paths to plausibly cross.

He stares at the woman by his side.Always with the scheming and the secrecy.She kept the existence of his other AX brothers from him for three years. What else is she hiding?

Officer Welsh’s shrewd eyes linger on them for a long breath, and AX2 has the distinct sensation that he’s picking up on the unspoken tension between them.

“We’ve seen a rather unfortunate tendency from the Russians in the past few months, when it comes to female prisoners of special interest.” His eyes flick to the bandage on her neck. “Mate her to a brute, then sit back and wait for him to fuck her into complete obedience. Real barbaric stuff—as you well know—but also effective. Entirely against the Geneva Conventions, of course, but that’s not a major concern to the regime over there.

“Especially since they know no one’s going to breathe a word of this. How many women operatives would we have left, if they knew they risked a lifetime as a mated slave the second they cross a Russian? The CIA would be out of female field agents within a week. So… we’ve said nothing. To no one. As far as we are aware, there are—not counting you two and the unfortunate number women we’ve lost to this practice, of course—a total of nine people within the entirety of the U.S. agencies and military branches with this knowledge.”

She stares at him, face frozen with icy calm, but in their bond, AX2 feels numb dread spreading through her. “Your theory, then, is that my father knew about these practices? By clandestine means? Myfather—a three-star general. One of the most highly respected men in the entirety of the military.”

Welsh simply nods.

“And you’re basing this preposterous ideasolelyon the choice he made when picking a soldier for the extraction?”

“Well, no. Not solely. But itisa convenient part of a larger puzzle.” The officer looks to AX2. “Tell me, what compelled you to claim your mate?”

“I ordered him to do it,” she snaps before AX2 can answer. “He has no choice but to obey my commands.”

A small flicker dances at the corner of Welsh’s mouth, and AX2 gets the sense he’s amused at the woman’s stubbornness. “Please walk me through the scenario, Mr. Thompson. When did you decide on making her yours?”

AX2 frowns. There’s an implication under all of this that he isn’t grasping. Something to do withthe Incidentwith AX1? It’s maddening—his gut tells him that whatever she’s hiding, it’simportant.“My orders were to save her, no matter the cost. I found her with a mate-claim to the alpha I killed to get to her, dying.”

The vivid image of her bruised body and unfocused, tear-stricken eyes as she knelt on that mattress flashes through his brain. He remembers putting his gun to her forehead and the urgency to pull the trigger. His inability to follow through.

“Claiming her was the only way to obey orders,” he finishes.

“Hmm,” Officer Welsh hums. He turns the pen between his fingers, then jabs the tip against the paper. “And did you think of this before or after her command?”

“Before.” By his side, he feels her quietly seething. Why, he doesn’t know. His answer is truthful, as she is well-aware.

“Ah,” Welsh says, flicking his gaze back to the doctor. “As I suspected.”

“It means nothing,” she hisses. “And even if it did, itprovesnothing. What other basis do you have for doubting my father’s loyalty? What could possibly possess the NSA to suspect a man who’s dedicated his entire life to serving his country of… ofwhat,exactly? Underhanded dealings?”

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