Wolf Rain (Psy-Changeling Trinity #3) - Nalini Singh Page 0,139

muscles in his jaw and neck bulging. Come out and I won’t hurt you. His eyes moved in jittering sweeps.

Damn it, she’d made a strategic error. Now he knew for certain that she was nearby. I want an agreement, she said, stalling while she looked for anything that would work as a weapon.

An agreement?

I’m not a child any longer. I’m an independent contractor.

An incredulous look on his face. An independent contractor?

Yes. Memory crept toward the door. If Renault stayed where he was and didn’t pursue her into the shelves, then she’d slip out and wait for Alexei, and they’d take down the monster together.

One way or another, this ended here, tonight.

I like having money and being able to buy pretty clothes, she ’pathed him. Pay me and you won’t have to spend energy trying to keep me caged. I’ll appear as scheduled for regular sessions.

Renault stared around the warehouse before leaning down to calmly right the chair. “If you’re attempting to get to the door, don’t bother. I twisted the lock with Tk. I’ll have to untwist it to let you out.”

Memory had no intention of just believing him. She’d see for herself.

“As for paying you . . .” Taking a seat on the chair, he propped one ankle over his other knee, a CEO at rest. “How about your new allegiance to the wolves and the Empathic Collective?”

Sascha, Jaya, the stipend provided so Memory could live a free life, the open embrace of her divergent abilities . . . Renault couldn’t hope to understand the bonds she had with her fellow Es and she could use that to her advantage. Where was the Collective when you had me in the cage? She considered what to say next, what he’d buy. I won’t betray the wolves, since they let me out of the cage, but you don’t do business with them anyway, so there’s no conflict.

Another pause, just as she reached a spot with a sightline to the door. Not only was the lock twisted, but so was the security bar across the doorway. No one but another telekinetic would be getting through that door. She wished she had her phone, some way to warn Alexei, but Renault had smashed it to pieces after first tying her to the chair.

Not about to give up, Memory searched the walls of the warehouse for another exit.

All she could see from her current position were the high windows and the huge roller door used for deliveries. That door wasn’t an option—the access scanpad was just visible to her, and she knew it had to be secured against unauthorized use.

“An intriguing proposal,” Renault said aloud, and she knew he wanted to push her into a mistake. A single spoken word and he’d know her general location in the warehouse. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he added.

Memory tried to think like a smart monster. Because under the influence of drugs or not, Renault was smart. But Amara was smarter. Never could Memory have predicted that she’d one day tell herself to think like Amara, but that might just be the ticket here. Amara would no doubt be highly amused when Memory shared that fact with her post-transfer.

You are the only person I know whose motives are crystal clear to me, she said. We have a relationship. Others in the world want to use me, but there is a risk they’ll overuse and break me. You know how to control the draw.

“Yes,” Renault murmured, the sound barely reaching her. “That much is undeniable. You are helpless against a transfer.”

Not anymore, you pathetic psychopathic coward.

Can I ask you something? He appeared rational at this second, and it might be the only chance she had to get this information for Alexei’s pack. How did you know about the bunker? she said, directing her next words at his ego. It’s so secret.

“I bet your wolf friends are going crazy trying to find the answer,” he said, conceit in his laughter. “My father was a teleporter who worked with a bunch of scientists. He got paid to create that bunker, and once he was done, he took me there to show me what he’d made. He had some ridiculous notion that I would follow in his footsteps—as if I would waste my energy on manual labor. But I filed away the visual references just in case.”

Memory dared another question. Oh, so other people do know about the bunker? It’s not just our place? The words made her