Surrender A Section 8 Novel - By Stephanie Tyler Page 0,22
“She always said her talents lay in other areas.”
“She was so lethal,” Grace whispered now. “Lethal, and still so good. I wasn’t sure that combination was possible.”
She trailed off and Dare was done asking questions for the moment. Questions were never the right way to do something. There were too many variables in the answers.
But she wasn’t done sharing.
“If you look in the closet in the last bedroom, you’ll find some record books with my handwriting,” she told him. “I know there are four bedrooms here. A basement with enough food to last for several months—and the bathrooms are down the hall—third door on the right and forth on the left, respectively. The room Darius stayed in had a picture of a guitar over the bed and a red quilt.”
There was no way she could know that. “You really lived here?”
“For a while, yes.”
“As a hostage?”
“At first, Darius and Adele treated me like one,” she agreed. “And then things changed.”
Why wouldn’t his father have told him about this, about whether or not he could trust her? Darius had to have known this would come into play at some point. Had to have known how precarious his son’s future was.
Darius had always been a selfish bastard, but nothing proved it more than this. Dare went to the closet and pulled out a few books, brought them to the kitchen table and found she’d written some key terms on a piece of paper.
He was no expert, but this wasn’t a hoax—the writing matched. “You worked S8’s books.”
She nodded. “I traveled with them. They passed intel through me.”
“You knew what they did?”
“I knew they weren’t bankers.” A wry smile twisted her lips. “They got me away from Rip in the first place. I left when I was eighteen and I’ve never looked back.”
“Had you tried to escape before that?”
She shrugged. Looked away. Didn’t want to go there, and yeah, he got that.
When she spoke, it wasn’t a direct answer to his question. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity when your father came along.”
“How did you pull it off?”
She gave him a sideways glance. “Got into a caterer’s trunk before they boarded the helicopter. Rip keeps the island on lockdown—very few people are permitted to stay longer than a night. For his parties, guests were flown in.”
“No private chefs?”
“One. He’s always on premises. If he needs help, he calls the same catering company that’s been vetted by security.”
“And they had no idea you were on board?”
Grace bit out the next words before she could stop herself. “Of course they knew. Darius sent them. It was all part of their plan. They wanted to use me at first, the way you want to.”
Recalling those early days, when she’d been nothing but a Section 8 pawn, the same way she’d been Rip’s pawn all those years, made Grace tense up. But it hadn’t taken Darius and Adele long before they’d stopped speaking to her like she was a prisoner.
She’d assumed what went a long way toward softening them was seeing the unhealed stripes from the whip on her back and arms. Adele had to help her medicate the newest ones after they’d gotten infected during her first weeks at the house.
Even after she trusted them and they trusted her—and she had no doubt they truly did—she never admitted to them that she had a gift of precognition. Broken or not, that might make anyone rethink their decision not to use her.
The psychic skills that lay dormant for years had never blossomed here, as she’d feared they might. She was more than grateful they remained silent, because that gift reminded her of her past, her mother . . . she refused to be a shell of her former self, another one of Rip’s victims.
So why had she let Dare take her so easily? She’d recognized him, yes, but his intent hadn’t been pure, like his father’s had. She’d felt his arms around her like strong bonds of protection. He was conflicted . . . but he was the better choice for what was coming.
“Are you sure . . . about Darius?”
“Are you?” he asked, his voice a fierce rasp. “Did you have something to do with his death?”
“No.” Darius had seemed indestructible. She couldn’t believe he was gone. And if he was, by Rip’s hand, that was her fault, another person to add to the list that made her cringe with guilt.
“So S8 rescues you and then you just happen to stay with them . . .