Page 68 of Wired Target

Sophie checked on Armita and the children in the nursery, and then went to join Connor with Feirn in the guest room while the CIA men were in the basement.

He’d moved his casted leg to the side of the bed and sat up.“I heard voices.What’s going on?”

She handed the agreement to him.“McDonald is here getting Pim Wat.”

“I want to see her.”He glanced up from the paper, sea-blue eyes intense.

Sophie frowned and shook her head.“Nothing good can come of it.”

“Get me my crutch.Something to use to walk.”

Feirn brought the crutch and helped Connor out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen.Sophie and Connor were standing at the kitchen’s island when McDonald emerged, alone, from the panic room’s dumbwaiter.“Your elevator sure is cramped.”

“It’s designed for two adults of normal size,” Sophie said.“You are not of normal size.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”McDonald’s face was greasy with sweat, and four distinct nail marks were etched down one cheek.He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it to his bleeding face.“We have her in hand, though it took a bit of effort.She’ll be up with one of my men next.”

Sophie bit her tongue to keep from asking any more questions.Pim Wat was no longer her problem.

A few minutes later, the elevator opened again, disgorging a small, struggling figure hidden under one of the blue emergency blankets Sophie had stowed in the basement.One of the agents gripped her by the arm, and he wasn’t gentle as he shoved Pim Wat out of the pantry.

She stumbled and landed in a heap like a bundle of laundry.

“Why is she covered?Did you beat her already?”Sophie stepped forward and yanked the blanket off Pim Wat.

Her mother wore the canvas straitjacket the agent had shown Sophie.With her arms so tightly bound, she’d hit the tile floor when she fell; a red contusion was forming on her forehead.Her strange green eyes were completely demented, bloodshot and bouncing around the room without recognition.The soiled gag Armita had put on her was gone.She smelled strongly of urine.

But she hadn’t been beaten.

The elevator disgorged the final agent, looking somewhat worse for wear.“You have a bit of a mess to clean up down there.”

Sophie ignored him.She squatted down to Pim Wat’s level.“Mother.I want you to know things didn’t have to end this way.”

Pim Wat stared at Sophie without recognition.

She glanced past Sophie and growled—she had spotted Connor.

Before any of them could grab her, Pim Wat leaped from her knees to her feet and launched herself at Connor.She barreled into him, hitting him in the midsection with her head.Momentum bore the two of them to the ground.Fierce as a trapped feral animal and just as terrifying, Pim Wat kicked and bit at him.

Connor rolled away to his feet with no apparent loss of mobility due to the cast.He caught Pim Wat by the strap on the back of the straitjacket, lifting her with one hand.She kicked and writhed, spitting and growling.“May you rot in the hell of your own making, Pim Wat.”

He handed the writhing woman to the two agents.They each took a side and dragged her to the front door of the house, down the verandah, and all the way out to the waiting SUV, where they tossed her into the back.

Sophie handed Connor his makeshift crutch as he faced McDonald.

“And now you know why we put a blanket over her head,” the CIA man said.“Looks like she drew blood.”He flicked a finger at Connor’s bleeding ear.“No shame.She got me too.Real wildcat, that one.”

Connor’s face reflected nothing but detached regret.“Please don’t let her escape again.”

McDonald scowled.“She won’t get away this time.She no longer has the Master of the Yam Khûmk?n on her side.”

“That’s certainly true.”Connor inclined his head.“Until we meet again, then.”

“Yep.I’ll be in touch.”McDonald gave a terse nod and followed his men out.

Sophie’s heart was still pounding from Pim Wat’s surprise attack on Connor.She embraced him; his heart was thundering, too, though he’d given no sign of distress.“Are you okay?”

“I will be.You?”He pulled back a bit to search her eyes.

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