Hancock yanked her roughly from the car and shoved her forward. Her tennis shoes crunched the gravel beneath them and then she nearly stumbled when it turned to smooth pavement. Hancock righted her and continued forward past the sound of bubbling water. A fountain?
The air was warm. Hot even. She could feel the sun’s direct rays on her arms. The smell of salt was heavy in the air and a breeze blew over her, bringing with it the feel of the sea. They were close to the water.
As soon as they stepped inside the building or house or whatever the hell it was, the air was much cooler. She went through a series of hallways before Hancock finally stopped.
She heard the door in front of her fly open and she took an instinctive step back, bumping into Hancock.
“Is this her? Is she the one?” a man demanded in a voice that sent fear snaking down her spine once more. There was something about his voice. It reeked of desperation. It was cold, hard and determined. Evil.
Her pulse sped up and her hands began to shake in the cuffs that still circled her wrists.
“This is her,” Hancock said in an even tone.
She found herself yanked forward and then the door slammed behind her. Suddenly the blindfold was torn from her eyes, and she rapidly blinked to adjust to her surroundings.
She was in a large study or office. It had the look of a library but there was a large executive desk at the back. To the right was a large fireplace, which despite the warmth of the day, was burning.
She took in as much as she possibly could as quickly as she could. She glanced left, hoping for a window, hoping for some sign of where she was, but was frustrated as she realized there were no windows. It was more like a dark cave where a beast skulked about.
Then she focused on the man in front of her who was staring every bit as hard at her as she was at him. For someone who’d frightened her so much with his voice alone, his appearance was deceptiv
ely mild.
He was average height. Maybe late forties. He was obviously a bit prideful because there wasn’t a hair on his head that was out of place, thanks largely to the amount of styling products evident.
He wore expensive clothing. Diamond cufflinks. A gaudy gold chain hung around his neck, and in one ear he wore a diamond stud earring.
He would probably appear arrogant on most days, but there was so much relief in his expression that it took Grace aback. He looked…happy…to see her.
“Get the cuffs off her,” her, the man ordered. “We don’t have any time to lose. I need her upstairs right now.”
Hancock quickly unlocked the cuffs and Grace pulled her hands around to her front, rubbing her wrists as she stared warily at the man in front of her.
“Who are you and why am I here?” she demanded.
“Who I am isn’t important. What’s important is that my daughter is very ill, and you’re going to heal her.”
CHAPTER 36
GRACE was taken aback by the utter despair that choked his voice. It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected to be used for her abilities. She just hadn’t expected…this. A man on a mission. A single mission.
She reached into his mind, wanting confirmation or perhaps to know what else he intended to use her for. Was she some sort of experiment once again? Was his daughter a guinea pig, and if Grace was successful, would she then be turned over to some government agency? Sold to the highest bidder?
What she found shocked her. Gordon Farnsworth wasn’t a good man. She saw things that made her blood run cold. He’d led a life filled with atrocities, bloodshed, selling out whomever he needed to, to achieve his ends. He was unapologetic and completely unremorseful over his choices.
But she also saw a grieving father whose only daughter was dying, and he was frustrated by his inability to buy her health and happiness. It was a harsh realization for him, that given his immense wealth, he couldn’t have the one thing he most wanted.
His daughter’s life.
Though she knew the answer to her question, she posed it anyway in an effort to buy time, to plan her next move and to somehow maneuver herself out of an impossible situation.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Cancer,” he bit out. “It’s a particularly invasive, aggressive form of cancer. Supposedly rare. The doctors all have names for it. I just know that it’s slowly sucking my daughter’s life from her. It began in an innocuous enough place, but before she could be treated, it had already spread to her liver and then into her bones. She’s riddled with cancer. There isn’t a part of her body that hasn’t been besieged by the disease. It’s in her lungs, and at times she has to be put on a respirator so she can survive. It’s spread to her brain and at times she’ll lie in a coma, unaware of her surroundings.”
He advanced on Grace, his face ugly, and she got her first look at what this man was to the rest of the world. Cold, evil, the very devil.
“You’ll cure her. I know of your abilities. I made damn sure that you were able to do what was said could be done before I had you brought here. I wouldn’t trust my daughter to someone who would cause her harm.”
Grace swallowed, sent a simple message to Rio.
Gordon Farnsworth.
Rio was silent but then he had to know how precarious Grace’s current position was. Shea stirred in her mind but also remained silent, a steady support.
“It would seem, Mr. Farnsworth, that I hold all the cards,” Grace said coolly.
“You hold nothing!”
He yanked her toward him, his hands wrapped in her shirt until their faces were inches apart. Spittle hit her cheek from the explosion of his outburst.