Faceless (Sinister Secrets Book 2), Candle Sutton [dar e dil novel online reading txt] 📗

her hands, she tried to break the zip ties, even as she knew her efforts would fail. There was a reason that law enforcement and bad guys used the plastic straps as restraints. They were cheap, but effective.

Maybe the gurney was on wheels. If she could twist enough to reach the scissors on that cart, maybe she could cut through the ties.

She wiggled around and threw her body to the left, but the table beneath her didn’t move.

Either it wasn’t on wheels or it was somehow secured in place.

Time for a new plan. Her feet weren’t restrained. Maybe she could use them to slide the wheeled cart containing the instruments closer.

She stretched out her bandaged foot, watching as it neared the edge of the tray.

Okay, this might work.

The movement brought fresh waves of pain from whatever other injuries she’d sustained. Her legs and hips burned and her back screamed in protest.

Clenching her teeth, she twisted her leg further until the edge of her foot connected with the corner of the cart.

Now to slide it closer.

She’d only have one chance. If she bumped it the wrong way, she’d push it out of range.

She gave it a kick.

Her foot connected solidly with the tray on top. The tray slid, wobbled on the edge, then clattered to the floor.

The voices outside silenced.

Great. She’d not only failed to get the tray close enough to use it, but she’d also alerted her captors that she was awake.

A man appeared in the doorway. Scrubs, marred with a few streaks of blood, identified him as the one who had most likely patched up her foot.

His eyes slid to the tray she’d knocked to the floor, but he said nothing as he came into the room to stand by her side.

Without a word, he shone a light into her eyes.

Behind him, another man appeared. Coffeeshop Man.

Clearly, he was the one in charge around here. Not the two goons who’d come after her, not the doctor or nurse or whatever he was in front of her, but the man who’d spoken to her in the coffeeshop.

She stared at him for a second, waiting for him to speak.

He didn’t. With his muscular arms crossed over his chest, he watched impassively as the man in scrubs checked her over.

“I’m fine. No thanks to you.” She bit out the words, then nodded at her foot. “I’m guessing I can thank you for that.”

He hooked his fingers into the pockets of his jeans and moved closer. “Crude, but effective.”

“You know the whole weight of the FBI will be all over this.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “You’ve kidnapped, and assaulted, an agent. That won’t go well for you.”

“Not just any FBI agent.” He moved closer, the bright florescent lights illuminating his startlingly blue eyes. “Mitch Taylor’s daughter.”

Her breath caught. This… connected to her father?

Myriad questions swirled in her mind like the mist off the Puget Sound.

One stood out above the rest. “Who are you?”

He pressed his lips together. “The one who holds your life in his hands. Don’t forget that.”

Without waiting for her to reply, he turned and strode for the door.

“Hey!” She lifted her head, jerking away from the latex-gloved hands still poking and prodding at her. “I’m not done talking to you!”

He didn’t even break stride as he moved through the doorway and disappeared from sight.

The man in scrubs leaned in, his face filling her vision. “I wouldn’t push him if I were you.”

She turned her attention to the man beside her, who was looking at her as if she were an interesting specimen, not a human being. “Are you a doctor? Don’t you have a duty to do no harm?”

A short laugh barked from him. “I turned my back on the Hippocratic Oath years ago. I do whatever he tells me to do.”

“Including stealing organs and murdering the donors?”

His head jerked back and his shoulders stiffened. Wide eyes indicated his surprise.

“Yes. We know all about that. We figured he must have a surgeon on staff to take care of the transplantations.” She examined his face, which was too surprised to try to disguise his feelings. “What happened? Medical negligence? Did you lose your license? Or is it just plain greed?”

Taunting a man with medical training, who had access to drugs and sharp instruments, probably wasn’t a smart move, but she doubted he’d do anything to her without Coffeeshop Man’s approval.

And since Coffeeshop Man had evidently ordered that she be bandaged up, he clearly wanted her alive for some reason.

Which was a mistake on his part. As soon as she felt up to it, she would find a way to escape. Or fight back, if no means of escape presented.

The doctor shook his head, his lips pressing into a tight line. “It doesn’t matter. What you need to know is that I have the power to save or end your life, so I’d think very carefully next time you choose to speak.”

He whirled, plucked a canister from the shelf, and grabbed a cloth.

What was that?

Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.

He doused the cloth and approached, pressing it tightly over her nose and mouth.

A sweet smell filled her senses and made her stomach heave.

She tossed her head to the side, but he caught it easily with his spare hand and forced it in place.

She held her breath. Her lungs protested the oxygen deprivation and her body begged her to breathe.

But the air was poisoned.

She tried to resist, tried to hold out, but her reflexes took over and she inhaled a deep breath.

The chemical flooded her body and blackness invaded.

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“Track her phone. I need to know where she is.” Tension lined Dak’s words, mirroring the