Walsh yanked the wig from her head. She could smell his body odor, an unpleasant mix of acrid aftershave and dirty male.

Luke had been right. It had taken Walsh all of ten seconds to recognize her despite her disguise. He made her fasten Luke’s arms behind his back with packing tape, then Walsh did the same to her. His touch on her arms was like bugs eating her skin, but she fought to keep the expression of horror from her face for Luke’s sake, knowing instinctively how much it would bother him to see her struggling.

Walsh patted Luke down, finding two guns and two knives, as well as several pairs of zip cuffs. “These are much better than tape,” he said, closing the plastic cuffs around each of their already bound wrists. Then it was her turn to be searched, the lecherous look in his eyes showing how much he enjoyed making her uncomfortable.

Until the moment she’d seen the body on the floor, she hadn’t truly understood the danger she was in. Yes, Jacques was dead, but she hadn’t appreciated that he’d been murdered until now.

Murdered.

And there was a good chance it was his murderer who now held their lives in his hands. Where was the rest of HERO Force? Had they realized she and Luke were in danger?

Walsh made his way down to her ankles and back up again, a hand trailing up her leg as he stood, making her jump. He picked up one of Luke’s knives from the desk, eyeing the other man. “Tell me. Was it you who shot my brother?”

Brother?

She thought of the man who’d forced her into the car at the hotel, but there was no family resemblance. Perhaps he was a different kind of brother than blood.

“Or was it one of those idiots in the testing facility, bumbling around here like ghostbusters who can’t find the ghost?” He turned back to her. “You didn’t really think I would be that stupid, did you? To bring the brancium here? I’d have to be out of my mind, which I’m not.” He turned back to Luke, closing the distance that separated them. “Was it you who shot my brother?”

Luke lifted his chin. “Jose Hernandez? Yes.”

“He was my only friend in eight years of foster care. The only one on my side.” Walsh’s hand went up, the knife catching the light, and Summer screamed as his arm slashed through the air. A thin red line appeared across Luke’s cheek, quickly becoming thicker as it filled with blood, a trail of it dripping toward his jawbone.

“No!” she yelled. “You leave him alone. It’s me you want.”

Walsh turned back to her, his gaze slowly sliding down her body and back up again. “If you’ll excuse us. Summer and I have some catching up to do.” He pushed her through the door and she stumbled, her face abrading on the rug without her hands to break her fall.

“Get up.”

She rolled to her side and struggled to her feet.

He hoisted her the rest of the way, then dragged her down a long hallway, then another and another, until she was completely lost. “You know, I’ve always had a problem with women in authority. This feels right, don’t you think? Me in charge of you, instead of the other way around?”

He pushed her into a laboratory. Black countertops covered white cabinets, a blue floor gleaming under fluorescent lights. She hit the counter, the hard edge catching her hip, making her wince.

“Tell me how to make Alloy 531.”

“I don’t know the formula off the top of my head.”

“Bullshit!” he bellowed. He crossed into her personal space, his nostrils flaring. “My operations director says you two were kissing in the hallway.” He slipped his hand behind her neck. “Maybe you should kiss me until you remember.”

She turned her head sharply away, her stomach heaving. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re a thief and a liar, just like your father. You deserve whatever I do to you.”

“What do you know about my father?”

“A hell of a lot more than you think.” He shoved her backwards into the table, which rocked on its legs. “Jerome Daniels stole my father’s life’s work.”

“Your father accused him of that, I know.” She tried to present the facts as calmly as possible, not wanting to upset him any further. “But your dad was a paranoid schizophrenic. He believed things that weren’t true and had to be institutionalized—”

He slammed his fist onto the counter beside her, making her jump. “The technology that accounts for more than half of all Daniels Aerospace’s gross revenue was discovered in the Boeing lab by my father in 1984.”

It had been discovered at Boeing, all right, just not by John Walsh.

He got in her face. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Of course I do. You worked at Daniels.”

“No, princess. Before that.”

His eyes were olive green, boring into hers from mere inches away, an odd color that suddenly looked very familiar. He’d been lanky and pock-faced, several years her senior. Moody and dark. “You used to come over to my house with your father.” She tilted her head. “You were mean to me.”

He grinned. “And you were a spoiled little bitch, with a big pool and a treehouse shaped like a castle.”

It was unnerving to think he’d been working at Daniels Aerospace without her ever knowing his true identity or the piece of history they shared. But he was as delusional as his father if he thought that made his accusations any less absurd. “John Walsh worked at Boeing, yes. But that doesn’t mean my father stole anyone’s ideas.”

He slapped her, the shock of it more upsetting than the sting.

“Stop saying that!” He paced several feet away from her and back again. “It was the winter after my mother died. Dad was already struggling and it broke him. Daniels and de Marquis took away his work and they left him with nothing. Nothing! That’s what triggered his psychotic break and led to his committal, leaving me in foster care while you were playing in that castle.”

He pulled at his hair, wisps of it falling to the floor. “My father was too trusting. Too weak. He didn’t keep good notes, didn’t file for patents before sharing his discoveries with his so-called friends.” He advanced on her again. “Daniels stole from him, and now it’s my turn to steal something back. The only thing Jerome Daniels actually created himself, his daughter.” He ran his finger over her bottom lip.

She opened her mouth and bit him hard, her teeth hitting bone as he screamed, yanking his hand away. He reared back and smashed the heel of his hand into her temple, making her vision shake and pain explode in her skull. “You bitch!”

“Is this your big plan? You’re no match for me intellectually so you’ll bind my wrists and pretend you’re winning?” She didn’t know where the bravado came from, and even as she spat the words in his face, she knew it wasn’t wise to provoke him. A few days ago she would have meekly gone along with anything he told her to do.

But those days were over.

She wasn’t going down without a fight. He pressed against her and she kneed him in the groin. This time he punched her full on in the face, dizziness washing over her brain and her knees buckling beneath her.

He grabbed her hair and pulled her back up to a stand, making her cry out in pain.

“I was going to wait until later, but hell, we can do this now if you really want.” The sound of him unfastening his belt buckle clamored in her ears like bells.

“Luke!” she screamed as loudly as she could. Walsh punched her again. She was certain her voice would echo through the halls, but the circuitous route Walsh had taken to get them here might prevent Luke from reaching her, even if he’d managed to escape his bindings.

She cried out for him again.

She would get help, or she would die trying.

It was all she could do.