The Other Morgan (Parallel Series, Book 5) Read online

  Hart swore violently, then said, “You’ll give me the name or I’ll hang up this phone and escort Amy to Holly within the hour.”

  I closed my eyes, imagining the terror Amy would feel when she came face to face with Holly. A gentle touch on my arm brought me back to the present, and I looked at Falcon, who stood beside me.

  He mouthed, “You can do it.”

  My lips flattened with resolve and I nodded. “If you hang up without agreeing to give me Amy,” I said as my heart raced, “then Falcon and I will warn Nick, and then we’ll disappear. You’ll never find out who it is.”

  It was dead silent, and for a moment I feared he’d hung up on me.

  “You drive a hard bargain,” he finally said.

  My eyes widened, then a smile formed on my mouth. I looked at Falcon and nodded, trying to convey that our plan was working. “When and where do you want to meet?”

  “Tomorrow morning at sunrise. At the bus stop. Make sure you’re not followed.” He paused. “And Morgan? You’d better deliver.”

  “I will.” He said nothing more, and I knew he’d hung up. I set the phone in its cradle, then repeated the conversation to Nick and Falcon. “I can’t believe he went for it,” I said as I sank into Nick’s leather chair.

  Nick smiled. “I can. He demands absolute loyalty, so I’m certain he’s taking this alleged betrayal personally.”

  “I’ll have to give him a name,” I said, thinking ahead to the next day when Amy would be back with me. Safe.

  “Any ideas?” Nick asked Falcon.

  After a brief hesitation, Falcon said, “Seth. Seth Robertson.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “One of the Enforcers who kept me from seeing my mother. He works really closely with my father now.”

  “What does he look like?” Nick asked, then he glanced at me. “In case Hart wants you to describe him.”

  “Good idea,” I said.

  “Let’s see,” Falcon said as he sat beside Nick. “He’s just under six feet tall, muscular, shaved head. Oh, and he has a tattoo of a dragon on his right forearm. That should be the clincher.”

  “Seth Robertson,” I said. “Shaved head. Dragon tattoo. Got it.”

  As the next morning approached, I became more and more nervous. What if Hart didn’t show? What if I gave him the name Seth Robertson and he knew I was lying? What if he didn’t bring Amy? As it turned out, I was worrying about the wrong thing.

  Chapter Forty-One

  After a lot of arguing, Falcon and I had persuaded Nick to leave his house while we met with Hart. Fearful that Hart would send Enforcers to capture Nick while we were gone, we wanted to make sure he was kept out of their hands so that nothing could prevent him from eventually releasing the proof he’d gathered. Though Nick had finally agreed, he’d wanted to send two of his men with us. Worried that if Hart saw them he’d leave without giving me Amy, I’d refused.

  With high hopes that Amy would be with me soon, Falcon and I arrived at the rendezvous point an hour before sunrise. After finding a good place to hide—a place where we could see if anyone approached the bus stop, but no one could see us—we waited for Hart to arrive with Amy.

  And waited, and waited.

  It was fully light and the only person we’d seen was a woman walking her dog. And that had been soon after we’d arrived. Now we were just cold and getting impatient.

  “Maybe they’re waiting for us to show up,” Falcon whispered.

  “What are you suggesting? That we go sit on the bench? Right out in the open?” Stress made my voice sharper than I’d meant it to be.

  “Maybe,” Falcon said, his voice calm.

  The idea of exposing myself to whomever might be watching and waiting kind of freaked me out, and I pressed myself closer to the tree I hid behind and wondered if I’d been hasty in refusing Nick’s offer to send two of his men with us.

  “I’ll go out there,” Falcon said. “Once I make sure it’s safe, then you can come out.”

  “But I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Someone has to make the first move, Raven. If you want to get your sister back, we have to do this.”

  He must be wondering what happened to the Morgan he saw on that video. The one he admired. The one who was brave. I frowned, unhappy to know I would never be Duplicate Morgan. I was me, and there was nothing that would change that.

  “Okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’ll signal to you when it’s safe,” he said, then he stepped out from behind the tree and walked toward the empty bench that was thirty feet in front of me.

  I watched him settle himself on the metal seat, then rest his elbows on the back of the bench. Nothing moved. Five minutes passed, and just when I began to feel a rush of irritation with Hart for taking so long to show up, two things happened at once.

  Movement to Falcon’s left caught my eye, but as I opened my mouth to shout a warning, a hand clamped over my mouth and a familiar jolt of electricity blew through me. My body went limp, but not before I saw a man in an Enforcer uniform burst from the foliage and rush Falcon.

  Evidently Falcon saw him coming, because he leapt from the bench and shouted, “Raven! Run!” I saw the man tackle Falcon, and then my attacker put something over my head because I couldn’t see anything after that. He also bound my arms behind my back before tossing me over his shoulder like a large sack of flour. Helpless to fight back, I strained my ears to hear what was happening, but all I heard was scuffling in the distance. A moment later I was shoved headfirst into what felt like the backseat of a car and I knew my worst fears had come true. I’d been captured by Enforcers.

  Terrified as I was, I didn’t wish any harm to come to Falcon and I hoped with all my heart that he’d managed to get away. I was the one Hart wanted. I was the one accused of murder. Falcon had only been helping me.

  The car started and we began to move. Desperate to know who exactly had taken me and where we were going, all I could do was endure. The effects of the taser started to wear off, but between the bag covering my head and the restraints around my wrists, I could do nothing but wait.

  I don’t know how long we drove, but by the time we stopped, my body was fully functional and I geared up for a fight once my captor opened the door. But to my surprise, he opened the door near my head instead of my feet, and when he pulled me out, he wasn’t alone.

  I had no chance to fight for my release as more than one strong pair of hands gripped my upper arms and kept me from running away.

  No one spoke as they practically dragged me along. I couldn’t see a thing and hoped they were taking me through a clear pathway.

  A metal-sounding screech indicated a door being pulled open, and as we moved forward, I could feel that the space was smaller. We were inside a building.

  Is it Camp Stonewater? Is Holly going to take over?

  Absolute fear climbed my body until it crested, and I finally found my voice. “Let me go,” I said, but no one responded. “Please.” The pitch of my voice rose as hysteria began to overtake me. “Please let me go. I haven’t done anything wrong.” I began to whimper. “Please.”

  Another door opened and a moment later I was forced to sit in a chair. My wrists were released, but only long enough to bind them to the chair in which I sat. Then cuffs tightened against my ankles. The cloth still covered my head, and now I couldn’t move at all.

  My heart jackhammered against my ribs and my ears began to ring. It was hard to tell for sure, but my vision seemed to be narrowing to pinpoints. Dizziness swept over me and I hoped when I passed out I wouldn’t hurt myself.

  What seemed like seconds later—although I knew I’d passed out for longer than that—the cloth covering was yanked off of my head. I squeezed my eyes closed against the sudden bright light, but forced them back open, frantic to know what was happening and who had me.

  “Hello, Morgan,” Secretary Hart said as he stood in front of me.

  Chapter
Forty-Two

  Using my terror to fuel my words, I spoke through gritted teeth. “This wasn’t our deal.”

  His gaze locked with mine and he barked a laugh. “You didn’t really think I’d take orders from you.”

  I stared back, too afraid to speak.

  “Either you’re more stupid than I thought, or you think very highly of yourself.”

  Trying to anchor myself, I glanced around the room. To my right was a door, to my left was a table, and beyond the table was a large mirror/window. No one else was in the room with us, though I wondered if anyone was watching from the other side of the mirror/window. The room looked exactly like the one DM had been in when Holly had tortured her. With that realization, another bout of dizziness threatened to sweep over me.

  Hart snapped his fingers in my face. “Pay attention, Morgan.” My eyes shot to his as he squatted in front of me, and I was tempted to spit in his face. “Now,” he said softly, “tell me who’s been meeting with Nick.”

  “Where’s Amy?” I forced my voice to show strength that I was nowhere near feeling.

  Hart’s nostrils flared. “Answer my question first.”

  That was not an option. Once I told him what he wanted to know, I would have zero leverage. But I knew holding back that information would come at a price. Can you do this, Morgan? Can you stay strong? I imagined what I was about to put myself through and began to tremble. “No,” I whispered.

  Hart sighed.

  I tried to distract myself with other questions. Did Falcon get away? Is Nick safe? Where is Amy right now?

  “Why do you want to do this to yourself?” he asked. “Just tell me what I want to know. Once you tell me, you’ll be free.” A smile spread across his lips. “Free to go home. Free to live your life without my men looking for you.” His voice softened. “What do you say?”

  The man knew how to make a fantastic offer, no doubt about it. But something didn’t feel right, and I wondered if he would even keep up his end of the bargain. After all, capturing me and bringing me here wasn’t what he’d agreed to the day before. Besides, the whole here’s the name of the man who’s betraying you wasn’t even true. No one had betrayed him at all, and the moment he discovered I was lying, he’d punish me.

  Regardless, I had to know that Amy was safe. “Bring Amy in here first,” I said, my throat like sand paper.

  Hart’s lips pursed, and he stood. Then he turned and strode from the room.

  Where’s he going? Anxiety traveled from the top of my head all the way down to my toes, and I knew—I knew—he would never let me win.

  He left me alone in the room for a long time. Long enough for me to work myself into a state of high agitation. He’s going to come in here with Holly. He’s going to let her torture me until I tell him what I know. I won’t be able to stand it and I’ll probably end up telling him all of Nick’s plans.

  The door swung open and my gaze snapped in that direction. Hart entered the room—alone—then closed the door behind him. He sat in a folding chair across from me and stared at me without speaking.

  Unnerved by his unwavering gaze, I clamped my mouth shut so I wouldn’t say something by mistake.

  “Amy will be here soon,” he finally said.

  Relief cascaded over me as worry over Amy receded—until a new obstacle took its place. What would happen when I told Hart that Seth Robertson was the betrayer and he found out I was lying?

  When a brief knock sounded on the door, Hart smiled at me. “That must be her.” Keeping his eyes on me, he tilted his head and called out, “Come in.”

  My gaze went to the door, and when it opened, I saw Amy being escorted by a man I’d never seen before. She jerked her body as if trying to get out of the tight grip he had on her arm.

  “Amy,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  Then my gaze went to the man beside her. Bald and muscular, he had a tattoo on his right forearm. A tattoo of a dragon.

  I held in a gasp as my eyes widened. Seth Robertson. He looks just like Falcon described. What’s he doing here?

  “Put her in that chair,” Hart said, pointing to a chair several feet from me.

  Robertson shackled her to the chair, then he stood against the wall.

  “Your sister is here,” Hart said. “Now tell me what you know.”

  Before I had a chance to open my mouth, Amy spoke. “Don’t tell him anything.”

  “Shut up,” Hart said while keeping his eyes on me. “Morgan?”

  “Don’t do it,” Amy urged.

  Hart huffed out a sigh, then looked at Robertson. “Tape her mouth shut.”

  “Yes, sir.” He left the room, returning with a roll of duct tape a moment later.

  “Don’t do that,” I said to both men.

  Robertson ignored me, ripping off a piece of tape, then pressing it across Amy’s mouth.

  “You disgust me,” I said to Hart.

  He sneered at me. “Yeah, I get that sometimes. And it really hurts my feelings.”

  My fear of him began to evaporate, replaced by anger, and I wanted to make him suffer. “I can see why Falcon loathes you.” My eyes narrowed. “You’re the worst father ever.”

  He flinched ever so slightly, and I knew I’d touched a sore spot. “Enough,” he shouted.

  My voice dropped to a near whisper. “I’m not going to tell you anything.”

  He stared at me. “Are you sure about that, Morgan?”

  I hesitated, then slowly nodded.

  He glanced at Amy, then looked at me. “We shall see.” Then he stood and gestured with his head toward Robertson. “Come with me.”

  The second they left the room, I turned to Amy. “It will be okay.”

  Silently, she stared at me, her eyes shiny with unshed tears, her wrists and ankles bound to the chair. After a moment, she nodded.

  What are you doing, Morgan? You have Amy. Why are you defying him? Just give him Robertson’s name and get it over with. Maybe you can make a deal with him—the name of his fake betrayer for your and Amy’s safe release. Don’t be an idiot. You don’t have to prove anything to him.

  I pictured Duplicate Morgan and how she’d done all within her power to stay true to herself. The memory gave me strength.

  Hart left us alone for a while, but I figured he stood on the other side of the mirror/window, waiting—for me to reveal something in a conversation with Amy, for me to crumple in fear, for me to call out to him. But I did none of those things. I held my position in my chair—not that I could move—and waited for him.

  Finally he returned, but he was not alone. He brought Josh Mills. And Holly.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  “You remember Holly Bennett, I presume?” Hart said as he swept his hand in her direction.

  I tried to nod, but my neck had become stiff with fear.

  “This Enforcer may look familiar as well,” he said. “He was there when you were last questioned by Ms. Bennett.”

  Tortured, you mean. Though I knew it was actually DM who’d been tortured, what had happened to her felt so familiar to me that it might as well have been me. My gaze shot to Mills. Are you going to stand by and let her torture me? I knew he’d done it before, so there was no reason to think he’d blow his cover this time.

  His eyes met mine, then he walked out of my line of vision—presumably to stand against the wall.

  “Hello, Morgan,” Holly said as she approached me. “Welcome back to Camp Stonewater.”

  With reluctance, I looked at the person from Duplicate Morgan’s history that I’d been the most terrified of meeting. She stopped in front of me and stared down at me, absolute fury on her face.

  “Your behavior has been unacceptable,” she said, her voice deceptively soft, then she leaned close. “Your escape made me look bad, and I don’t appreciate that.” She straightened, then smiled at me. “But don’t worry. You’ll make it up to me very soon.”

  Dread like I’d never felt before flooded me, bu
t in my helpless state, all I could do was speak. “I didn’t mean to make you look bad. I . . . I was just scared.” Duplicate Morgan would be ashamed of me if she were here. I’m making her look like a coward.

  Holly gazed at me impassively.

  “Please,” I said, desperate to avoid her wrath. “Please don’t torture me.”

  A smile curved her mouth. “Oh, don’t worry, Morgan. I have no intention of torturing you.”

  Relief cascaded over me in waves, and I closed my eyes.

  “No,” she said. “No, I have something else in mind.”

  I opened my eyes to see what she could possibly do to me that was worse than torture.

  “Secretary Hart and I discussed it,” she said. “And we decided it would be much more effective if we used our persuasive methods on Amy instead.”

  “No!” I screamed. “You can’t do that!” My gaze ricocheted wildly around the room, desperate for help of some kind, but everyone ignored me.

  A knock sounded at the door. Hart glanced at Robertson, who walked to the door and opened it. A woman in a lab coat walked in.

  My mind screamed a warning. She’s here for Amy. She’s going to put something in her neck. Just like they did to DM.

  Robertson and the woman walked directly to Amy, who thrashed around ineffectively in her chair. Only her head and shoulders moved, but she fought with all she had.

  “Amy!” I yelled as loud as I could, frantic to take attention away from my little sister. “Leave her alone! She didn’t do anything!”

  No one even looked at me as Robertson placed his hands on either side of Amy’s head, holding her still. The woman rubbed something against the base of Amy’s skull, then paused, evidently waiting for something to begin working. After a moment, the woman lifted a small needle from a bag she’d set on the floor, then bent forward and punctured the skin on Amy’s neck.

  Amy made a sound through the duct tape affixed to her mouth, but Robertson held her immobilized.

  Hatred for these people poured through me, and I knew if it were me being tortured, I would resist with all I had. But’s it’s not you. It’s Amy.