CONCEPTION (The Others) Read Free

assessment he was making
of her in return.
    Across the room, the little green light on the alarm panel
started to flash. Oh God, they were out of time. “Under the floor.”
    “Where?”
    She closed her eyes on a brief prayer and said, “Under my
feet.”
    All eyes fell to the blood-spattered wood.
    “Hell. Get a crowbar over here!” She sensed, more than saw,
movement at the edge of the room.
    “You’ve got to hurry,” she whispered. “He activated the
defenses.”
    Dak whipped around. “Who did?”
    “My grandfather. He’s always been worried about someone
stealing his research.”
    Dak’s lips twisted, derision clearly evident. “I’ll just
bet.”
    Two of the heavily armed, heavily muscled men made short
work of the nails she’d pounded so deep to keep Deuce safe. Nails squealed as
they were dragged free, wood groaned and thud after thud, two beats slower than
her heart, built into a clatter as the floorboards were tossed aside. No one
made a move toward her. They weren’t even going to get her down, Eden realized.
Not until they were sure. And maybe not even then. She was the granddaughter of
the head of the Coalition. She was the enemy. Though she’d been late coming to that
understanding, she had it now. The minutes stretched like hours as the men
worked beneath her. Then with a “Got him”, the agony of wondering if she’d done
the right thing was over.
    “Jeez, Deuce,” a big man with a bandanna tied around his
head asked, no small amount of horror in his voice, “what the hell did they do
to you?”
    That horror in his voice dug deeply into her fear. Had she
been too late? Had something happened while he was down there? “Is he all
right?”
    No one spared her a glance, let alone an answer.
    A hammer went flying past her field of vision before landing
with a bang in the pile of discarded floorboards. “He’s not moving, Dak.”
    Dak turned her face to his. “Why isn’t he moving?”
    “It’s a drug,” she whispered. “He can’t move or talk. It’ll
wear off in a couple hours, but you’ve got to get him out of here now.”
    Not a flicker of expression touched his face. “Nick, bring
the body bag.”
    “He’s not dead!” she gasped, struggling in a futile effort
to see for herself. He couldn’t be dead. All she got a glimpse of was her chest
and a set of wide male shoulders.
    Dak’s hands on her hips put paid to her efforts to see. His
“He needs protection from the light” was almost gentle. There was a faint
stiffening in his arms as he stepped aside for the men to work. He took a
breath, paused, and lifted her weight off her arms. “You’re hurting yourself.”
    Her struggles had reopened the wounds in her wrists. It
didn’t matter. She craned her neck to see. “Is Dusan okay?”
    His gaze held hers, puzzlement pushing aside the anger. “I
can’t tell.”
    There was a snap that had her flinching before she realized
it was the heavy vinyl bag snaking out, and not the whip.
    Nick reached down for Deuce, bumping her legs as he did.
“Damn,” he muttered as he hauled him out, grunting with the effort. “He’s going
to be pissed at someone when he wakes up.”
    Dak got a better grip on the sides of her hips and lifted
her out of the way. The agony wrenched the scream from her throat against her
will. Hard curses from Dak and Nick swayed in tandem beneath the echo.
    The urge to succumb to the haze that immediately appeared
was almost overwhelming, but she couldn’t take advantage of it yet. Not now.
They had to understand.
    “Get her down,” Dak barked again, his grip on her hips
tightening.
    “Who the hell did this to them?” bandanna man growled,
stepping forward.
    She had, with her blind stupidity. But she wasn’t admitting
that now, to these men. Eden forced her right eye open. The left lid refused to
move. Across the room the lights on the panel started flashing in ever
increasing patterns. The time for atonement was at hand. She met Nick’s gaze
through