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Rettnor’s eyes hardened. “Is that a threat, Mr. Peters? I assure you, I have powerful friends who?—”
Davis didn’t let him finish. In one swift motion, he reached across the desk and spun the comm console around. “Let’s see for ourselves. Shall we?”
“You can’t trace that call,” the doctor snarled, and then his gaze landed on his PA, hovering in the doorway behind Davis. “Mira, get out!” Rettnor barked, his face contorting with anger. “This doesn’t concern you!”
Mira. The little blonde’s name was Mira.
Davis held up a hand, his voice firm but laced with contempt. “Oh no, she stays. I think she’s involved in this more than you want to admit, Doc.”
The PA froze, her eyes darting between Davis and the doctor, fear and uncertainty warring with the anger in her expression. Davis studied her more closely, his eyes narrowed as he glanced at the photos on the doctor’s desk. The smiling, vibrant woman in those images bore little resemblance to the pale, angry creature standing before him now.
“Why do you put up with this shit?” he asked her bluntly, his voice gruff. “You could leave. I can get you out of here.”
Rettnor’s face turned an ugly shade of red as he rounded on Mira. “Don’t you dare think about it, you dumb blonde!” he snarled, spittle flying from his lips. “You’re nothing without me. You hear? Nothing! You keep your pretty little mouth shut if you know what’s good for you. Or have you forgotten what happened the last time you crossed me?”
Davis opened his mouth tell the asshole to shut the fuck up, but before he could, Mira’s expression shifted. Something in her eyes changed, becoming hard and focused. Without warning, she stepped past him to the comms console.
“What are you doing?”
“What I should have done fucking years ago,” she shot back, her delicate fingers flying over the keyboard. “He’s not as clever as he thinks he is.”
Rettnor lunged forward with a roar. “You little bitch! Get away from there!”
Davis was between the doctor and Mira in a heartbeat. Grabbing the man’s wrist, he yanked it up behind his back in one vicious movement. Rettnor let out a pained yelp.
“I don’t think so,” Davis growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Let’s see what your better half has to show us. Shall we?”
Furious typing and the doctor’s enraged sputtering filled the room. Rettnor struggled against his iron hold, his face turning redder by the second.
“You can’t do this!” Rettnor yelled. “Do you know who I am? Who I work for?”
Davis just tightened his grip, a cold smile playing on his lips as he felt the bones of the doctor’s arm begin to creak. Much more and they’d snap. “That’s what I’m counting on finding out.”
Davis maintained his iron grip on Rettnor in case he made any sudden moves, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Mira.
Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she focused on the screen. Her blonde hair had come loose, falling in wisps around her face, and her blue eyes blazed with determination.
He forced down a wave of attraction that made him feel like a complete bastard. This woman had obviously been through hell, abused and scared, and here he was, thinking how sexy she looked. He was an asshole and a half.
A voice cut through the air, cold and sharp as a blade. Davis’s head snapped toward the screen, his eyes narrowing as he took in the face that appeared. The man stared out from the display, his features hard and chiseled, every line screaming “career soldier.” The man’s eyes were cold and calculating, devoid of any warmth or humanity. Just looking at him made Davis’s skin crawl.
His lip curled. He knew the type… a fucking shark in uniform, the kind of bastard who’d throw his own mother to the wolves for a shot at another stripe.
The screen split down the middle, showing the doctor’s face on the other side.
“You have her?” the soldier asked, his voice as sharp as a blade.
“In the flesh,” Rettnor replied eagerly. “Recognized her as soon as I saw her.”
The soldier’s eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam in their depths. “Excellent. And you’re certain it’s her? We don’t tolerate mistakes.”
“Absolutely,” Rettnor assured him, puffing up with self-importance. “She matches the description perfectly. And there’s more… she’s not alone.”
The soldier leaned forward, interest in his dead gray eyes. “Go on.”
“She’s with a group of men,” Rettnor said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Aliens by the look of them. One’s a huge brute of a thing.”
“Interesting,” the soldier mused, rubbing at his chin. “This complicates things. We’ll need to adjust our extraction plan for the additional numbers.”
