The Gender Game 5 by Bella Forrest (top 5 books to read .TXT) 📗

“I think he’s alive, and yes, really. But, Viggo, the ‘where’ isn’t relevant to us.”

Ms. Dale stepped over, tugging the stiff edges of her uniform down, and reached out to place a hand on my forearm. She and the rest of the team now wore their earbuds, so they could hear the exchange. But since they needed their voices for this mission, I was the only one with a subvocalizer.

“Unless he’s in danger, then…” She hesitated, her gaze drifting suspiciously to our prisoners, and then continued. “Our tech guy is right—it is not a priority,” she said softly, meeting my gaze with an unwavering one of her own. I applauded her commitment to not using anyone’s real names, realizing we had overlooked giving Thomas an alias.

I nodded, swallowing through the swoop of hope tugging at my heart. This wasn’t the time or the place.

Thomas—is he in danger?

“No, not that I can tell.”

Can you… Would you be able to transmit the information back to our base? Not to Violet, though, if you can help it—she might go off half-cocked to find him.

“I can do that. Should I attach a message?”

Whatever you think is best, I replied, after struggling and failing to think of something to say that wouldn’t eventually make Violet angry I was covering this up. Ms. Dale gave me a nod, then hurriedly moved through the door and out into the hallway, Amber hot on her heels. The two of them, now dressed as the Matrian wardens who guarded the checkpoints, down to the electronic key fob and the identification papers—not that those would hold up under scrutiny—were going to do their job and guard the door.

This was probably my least favorite part of the plan. Through the door to the room, Ms. Dale and Amber had no way of communicating problems to us beyond a simple tapping system we’d worked out. The two of them were on their own now, and while they were both more than capable, I knew anything could happen out there.

Thomas, wait one second. Ms. Dale, test the signal for me, I communicated to her. After a moment, I heard a very small tap, followed by a long scratch, signaling that she had heard me. I read you clearly, I informed her. Go ahead, Thomas.

“Okay. By the way, I now have some control over your console, although it’s just about understanding the coding. I can guide you from here, but I need a test of buttons, left to right, top to bottom.”

I waved Cad over and pointed at the console, and he nodded, approaching it closely. Cad is waiting for your instructions, I transmitted. Jeff will be communicating with you while I deal with the hostages.

“Okay.”

I ripped off my subvocalizer and handed it over to Jeff, who fastened it around his neck. His eyes went wide as it activated, and I heard his voice coming over the speakers as I saw him mouth, Is this normal?

It hadn’t occurred to me that Jeff hadn’t worn one before, but I nodded at his discomfort and gave him a thumbs-up, certain he could handle the adjustment. Moving over to the hostages, I noted that Ms. Dale and Amber had been kind enough to dress the women in their Patrian clothes, although the fit was poor at best. The three of them sat with their backs to the wall, their hands all secured by zip ties, their feet tied with their own shoelaces.

Cruz was glaring at me, his eyes glistening with malice. “I get it. You’re working for them,” he spat. “The Daughters of Patrus or whatever those terrorist brats call themselves.”

I checked my watch, my skin tingling. The tech hadn’t been up to the room yet, but according to Jeff’s information, there were only a few minutes before she was supposed to be here to load up the next news installment. It was very likely we needed the special case she carried with her, as it was coded specifically to connect to this terminal—without it, we couldn’t play our video. We were lucky to have figured that one out beforehand, thanks to Jeff’s information-gathering skills and Thomas’ strategic thinking.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, you coward,” Cruz continued.

“Jacob, people are starting to arrive,” announced Cad, turning back from where he sat at the control panel.

I stepped closer, peering out the large panel of security glass. People were beginning to stream into the stadium, their paces sedate, picking their seats around the ring.

“Tell everyone to get ready,” I told Jeff, and he nodded, his mouth moving. Already, I could see the strain of this amount of tension was getting to Jeff. Sweat was pouring off the older man’s forehead and dripping down his cheeks. I gave him a reassuring nod when I heard his voice come through the earbud.

I turned to Cruz and squatted down. “I’m not part of a terrorist organization,” I told him calmly as I grabbed the roll of duct tape I’d seen in the beaten-up red toolkit sitting on the floor near the console. “I’m just a man trying to do the right thing.”

“You’re betraying your own gender,” he hissed, his hands jerking against his bonds.

I shook my head at him. “Well, maybe I am, but for the right reasons.” I yanked a strip of tape out, tearing it off, and proceeded to place a piece over Cruz’s mouth, ignoring his attempt to bite me. Then I moved on to tape the other prisoners’ mouths. I checked my watch again. Only two minutes left before show time—where the hell was this tech? Just waiting like this was alarming in its own right, and if Elena or Desmond had somehow caught on to our plan, this little room could become a trap very quickly. I imagined, for a moment, trying to escape by breaking the security glass and leaping… first I’d have to find a way to break the reinforced glass; then, of course, would there even be something to hold