Page 25 of Hayes (Voodoo Guardians #37)

Victoria looked around the room, staring at the various worktables and machines.

This wasn’t just any room. This was a room that had been used many, many times before.

Taking a quick inventory of the items on the tables, she realized that this room was designed to build IEDs, bombs, and other devices.

“What are you doing?” barked Aamani.

“I’m looking. What is this?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

He glared at her, hoping to make her break, but she was as determined as he was. She knew what this felt like. She’d been in this situation before.

Men and women determined to intimidate children into doing their dirty work. Forcing them to create their war machines, weapons, and invasive equipment. She remembered the schools, the faces of angry men and women intimidating the children, forcing them to complete complex problems.

“If this is a game you’re playing with me, you will regret it. I need what’s in that head of yours, and if you don’t give it to me, I’ll just chop it off.”

“Again, you’re threatening me for something I don’t even understand. Hayes and I aren’t even dating. I never received any letters that he wrote. Besides, we’re more like brother and sister.

“You were right to go after him, you know. He’s the real genius. In fact, if you really need the help, I could ask him to come and get me.”

“Do you think I’m a fool?” he asked, gripping her upper arm and jerking her sideways. She held in the expletive she wanted to let go. Her face was already hurt from being hit several times. “If you call him, the entire team comes for you.”

“You really don’t understand this, do you?” she said innocently. “Just take me to some place of your choosing, in the open, and make him meet you there. Then you can see everything around you.”

Aamani knew there was some truth and intelligence to what the woman was saying. But something inside of him was telling him that she was smarter than she pretended. He would get whatever he could get from her brain and then kill her, forcing O’Neal to come for her body.

“I understand more than you think,” he said, still holding tight to her upper arm. “My people have been dying because of these men for decades.”

“No. Your people have been dying for decades, for centuries, because all you understand is war. You can’t comprehend peace or unity because you’ve never seen it, never experienced it. It’s so foreign to you that you don’t know what it looks like,” she said calmly.

“And you do?” he growled. “You believe that you’re the saviors of the world, rushing in to help the underdogs. All you do is anger the rest of the world. You cannot save everyone. You cannot save this country. You may not even be able to save your own.”

“Maybe not,” said Victoria quietly. “But at least we try. We’re not perfect, none of us are. But we don’t intentionally kill others so that we can justify a better life. We defend the weak, we defend what is ours.”

“And you kill without thought.”

“We kill when others seek to kill us,” she said with more wisdom than he expected.

Releasing her arm, he paced back and forth in front of her. He was acutely aware of the fact that his men stared at him, wondering what he would do. Some spoke English, others did not. But no doubt, those who did would repeat the entire conversation when in private, to their friends.

Aamani moved toward a table covered in a tarp and pulled it back.

Beneath the cover were components from a complex piece of communications equipment designed by G.R.I.P.

At least, it was complex when it was created ten years ago.

She knew that even if she fixed it for him, it would not serve a purpose.

“What is all that junk?” she asked.

“You know what it is, and if you don’t repair it, make it workable in the next twenty-four hours, I will kill you.”

Turning, he walked out of the cave-like room and slammed the door. One man remained inside, taking a seat at the door. Another was seated outside the door. She heard him give orders to never leave her alone, but to feed her twice a day.

“How generous,” she muttered to herself. She heard the crackling in her comms piece and knew that they were trying to reach her, but she was too far below the surface. She wasn’t sure how far, but she knew it was deep.

As they’d walked, she’d felt the continued decline in the pathways. She walked around the small space, feeling the wall. It was supported with old-fashioned techniques, using mud bricks and timbers.

When she reached the back wall, she noticed a hanging blanket and ran her fingers over it. It was a door. The blanket was covering a door. She filed that away in her mind, then touched the back wall. Her fingers brushed the earth, cold, damp earth.

Damp. The wall at that end was damp. She was near water. This tunnel led either to water, beneath water, or beside water. Either way, it could be her rescue or her death.

Only time would tell.