Chapter 7
Dungeon? I mouthed "help" silently to Mallory, but the wide-eyed dread on my face must have looked more like terror, because her next words surprised us both.
"Better let me handle her, sir. She gets a bit feral." Mallory reached for my arm.
Vilet's skinny eyebrows shot up. He stared her into paralysis, then he took my elbow and led me down the hall at a clip
I glanced over my shoulder. All she offered was a shrug. Was I the only chick in the building with balls enough to confront this man?
When we'd rounded the corner, Vilet muttered and I had to lean in to hear him over the alarm. "You have a knack for securing my team's loyalty, Miss Larson. And their insubordination." He kept pace as we veered past the kitchen then stopped at a black metal door between the dining area and the stairwell to my room upstairs. "That door leads to the basement."
"I'm hoping 'dungeon' is misnomer."
"Let's just say it's earned that reputation." He dropped my arm as he continued down the corridor. "Coming?"
We turned into an office nearly as spacious as the conference room but filled walls of bookshelves, an ornately carved walnut desk, a burgundy-leather chair, and a faux-antique leather couch that doubled as a bed from the looks of the pillow and blankets at one end. So this was the bear's lair.
"Shut the door." Vilet strode to the desk, wheeled his chair to the desk and sat. Strangely the high-back didn't dwarf him, but rather rendered his slight, stiff frame a regal presentation. The desk was solid, as in no footwell to see through, so not only could I not see if he aimed his loaded weapon on me, I imagined the desk's bulk provided adequate shelter should he be under fire. Say, if someone wanted to shoot him right in the nuts.
I'd closed the door halfway before realizing I followed his orders as willingly as his agents. The man had a way of gaining one's casual trust. Or at least their submission. "If we're under attack, why should I get locked in here with you?"
"If we were under attack, Miss Larson, an open door would not be your friend." He grabbed the handset of a phone circa 1900. "See that I'm not disturbed," he said into the receiver. "Yes, I know. Be sure to complete all protocols. No mistakes this time." He returned the handset to its cradle and paused with a fist to his mouth as he considered me, which struck me as too human for this ballbreaker.
My curiosity had peaked, I shut the door and looked sideways at him, wondering if he'd pulled the alarm himself. "So Sam's not in danger out there."
Turning toward the wide picture-window, Vilet propped his feet on the desk, crossed his ankles and leaned back with those damned steepled fingers. "I happen to know that a deer triggered the alarm. I know because I stood here, watching her descend the hill and cross the meadow. The snow's high enough she hopped the barbed wire. Funny creatures. Their very innocence leads them to their death."
I moved toward the window, my muscles tightening upon seeing a doe foraging leaves from a nearly stripped dogwood tree that stood in the middle of the manicured courtyard. "You don't have to kill her."
He winced slightly. "Of course we don't." I couldn't tell if he was agreeing or being facetious. Either way, the man's coldness made my blood boil.
Outside, a guard in white, head-to-toe parka gear trudged through an embankment of snow stacked at the edge of the courtyard. He unlatched a gate and slid softly onto the snow-plowed pavement below, pausing when he saw the doe afar, then raising his black rifle on her.
I turned to Vilet, who was studying me. My breathing quickened. "Please." I shook my head. He couldn't be so cruel. Then again...
I tried sliding open the window, but the locks required a small key. I pounded on the glass. "Hey, get out of here. Run, damnit. Go!"
