The Suppressor by Erik Carter (best free novels .txt) 📗

The last scraggly stronghold for the Farone family was a mobile home in the woods outside of Crestview, Florida. How ironic. The great legacy, the legends, the mansion, the Italian-American heritage—all of it coming to a close outside a ratty trailer in the woods in rural Florida.

His men had the final guy pinned against a tree, squirming, sweating through a wrinkly dress shirt that stunk of days of life on the run.

Glover stepped up to him. “How many more Farone men are left?”

“Just me. I swear,” the man said, shaking. “You’ve killed them all.”

Glover shook his head. “Not all.”

He put a gun to the man’s forehead and fired.

His men hooped and hollered, but Glover remained resolute. The leader. The mature one. The one in control.

The man slid butt-first down the tree trunk. A wide path of blood chased after him.

Glover took his cellular phone from his pocket and dialed Burton.

Chapter Fifty-Three

He watched from his bed as Falcon slipped out of the door, shutting it behind him.

That left just him and Christie.

Or Nakiri, rather.

She drummed her fingers on the bed’s handrail, giving him another one of those mysterious smiles. “Are you ready to begin, Silence?”

Silence.

A foreign sensation breezed over him. Silence Jones. That was his name now.

He’d have to get used to it.

He nodded.

Nakiri said, “Eight-zero-six-four-five-four-one-six-two-nine.”

What the hell?

Silence raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m going to say the number again, and you’re going to repeat it to me. Eight-zero-six-four-five-four-one-six-two-nine.”

She hadn’t said it blazingly fast, but certainly too quickly to remember.

He strained. “Eight-zero-six…”

Nothing. He shook his head and swallowed. The syllables had hurt.

Nakiri scowled at him. “Wrong.”

She took her hand off the handrail and closed it over the bandages on his shoulder.

And squeezed.

Hard.

Pain rippled through him like an electric current, past his shoulder, through his chest, into his arms and legs. Whatever wound remained under those bandages was far from healed. His wrists snapped into the plastic handcuffs. And he screamed, which brought reciprocal pain from his throat, horrible and hot.

She released the pressure, but kept her hand on his shoulder.

“Eight-zero-six-four-five-four-one-six-two-nine. Repeat it.”

“Eight-zero.” He swallowed. “Six-four…”

He trailed off.

“Wrong.”

She squeezed.

Silence screamed again at the wave of pain, wrists yanking the plastic handcuffs tight, but he bit his lip to keep the sound in his chest, below his awful throat.

Nakiri smiled. “Adaptation. No scream means less pain. I like it. Now, come on. You gotta be able to do this. You can’t rely on that silly notebook. No crutches for Assets.”

She motioned toward his PenPal, sitting on the monitor beside them.

“You’ll have to use your memory in the field, dummy. That’s what they used to call people who can’t talk—dummy. You’re gonna be my little dummy for the next three weeks. Now … eight-zero-six-four-five-four-one-six-two-nine.”

“Eight-zero-four—”

“Wrong!”

She went to squeeze the shoulder again but stopped yourself short, the tiniest shimmer of sympathy crossing her eyes. A cold smile formed on her lips, and she removed her hand.

“To be continued.”

Silence’s entire body quaked. His flesh was cold and wet. He sensed his wrists, looked, and saw angry red lines from the plastic ties.

Nakiri looked him over, from top to bottom.

“Let’s keep things brief today. It’s late, and it’s your first day. Only two lessons. We’ll come back to lesson one momentarily. Moving on to lesson two.”

She traced the back of her hand along his cheek, a tickling sensation that ran across his scruff beard. Her skin was softer than he would have thought, her fingers smaller, delicate even.

He tilted away.

What the hell was she up to?

“Falcon tells me you’ve only been out of sedation for a few brief moments before tonight,” she said. “To you, it must seem like yesterday that Cecilia died, hmm?”

Silence nodded.

“An Asset with an open-ended romantic connection.” She tsked. “Now, we can’t have that.” Her gray eyes locked in on him. “With that voice of yours, you’ll never go undercover. Unlike me. Do you know how many times I had sex with Burton? How disgusting it was? How many times before Burton I’ve had to put myself in situations like that? It’s different as a woman, even as an Asset.

“You and me—we need to clear any sexual tension at the beginning of this journey we’re about to share. We’re gonna be working closely together. Touching. And, believe me, there’s always sexual tension, no matter how devoted a person is. You’ll be interacting with other non-Cecilia women in the field. I need to know that you won’t cower away from a woman’s touch.”

Her hand moved.

Oh.

Now Silence understood what was happening.

Her fingers traced down his neck, tickling even more, prickling his skin, over his chest, pausing to run her finger under the collar of his gown, down his side, past his waist.

She took hold of him.

And Silence knew he was learning a lesson right now, just not the lesson Nakiri intended. If he really was going to be in situations with “touch,” as she called it, he would need to use his mind and his memories to disappear.

And remain faithful.

Because what Nakiri didn’t understand was that Silence’s attachment to C.C. wasn’t because she’d recently passed. He’d promised himself to her. For life. And he meant it.

C.C. taught him how to use his mind, and he would use his mind to escape this.

Surprisingly, this situation he was in with Nakiri had triggered a memory. He would use it.

He thought of C.C.

And he was gone.

Months earlier.

The beach.

It was early spring, so the sun was warm, but the humidity wasn’t stifling. A pleasant breeze rolled off the water. Locals and off-season tourists stretched on towels and splashed in the waves. Pleasant conversations. The smell of suntan lotion clouded the air. The white sand was an endless carpet before them, lined with condo towers and beaches, stretching to the horizon, where it disappeared beneath a brilliant blue sky.

“I’ll be happy when you can get rid of those contacts,” she said, pointing at his sunglasses. I like your real eyes a lot better. The real you.”

He’d taken the lenses out for her a couple times during private moments.

“The ‘real