“Remember when I used to call you a freak?” he asked, his laugh wheezing a bit at the end. “What they’ve done to me makes you seem normal.”
I swallowed back the lump that rose in my throat. “Madigan tried to duplicate Katie’s tri-species nature with you, didn’t he?”
Another harsh chuckle. “Yep, but it didn’t work. Not on me or the two thousand unlucky bastards before me. Madigan kept hoping for another fluke like Katie, but he must’ve needed more of whatever he took from you years ago to make it work. That, or wait ’til Katie got older.”
I knew what that last part meant—forcible breeding. Madigan had intended to do the same to me, so while it made me sick, it didn’t shock me. The number Cooper relayed did.
“Madigan told you how many people he killed with his experiments?” Was the bastard proud of being America’s biggest serial killer?
“He didn’t need to tell us. We could count.”
This from Tate, who finally got up from the impact hole he’d made when he landed. Cooper nodded in grim assent.
“I was W98. Hard to make a cute nickname out of that.”
“Explain,” Bones said, echoing my own thought.
Tate paused to glower at Ian once before he spoke.
“Madigan labeled his test specimens alphabetically and then numerically, up to one hundred per letter. When he first brought us here, he pitted us against his only success, Specimen A80, in order to sharpen her fighting skills. From her early specimen number, he must’ve had her so long, he had to have grabbed her when she was a baby, so she wouldn’t know her real name. I couldn’t stand to refer to her by a specimen number like he did, so I called her Katie.”
Now there was no swallowing the lump that rocketed up my throat. At the same time, I trembled with rage. I’d been designated a specimen number, too. A1, according to Madigan’s guards, but how could Madigan have kidnapped and experimented on a baby? Katie never had a chance because of him.
It was senseless, yet I spun around and kicked Madigan’s corpse hard enough that it ricocheted off the nearby silo.
“Wake up!” I yelled at it. “You can’t stay dead, you have so much to answer for!”
“Kitten, stop.”
Bones grabbed me when I would have punted Madigan’s body into the grain silo again.
“You might dislodge his heart and prevent him from rising.”
I stopped, sagging into the strong arms that gripped me.
“Who are we kidding? It’s been three hours. He’s not coming back.”
Bones glanced at the fading sunlight that painted the silos in various shades of orange, pink, and mauve before he spoke.
“Perhaps not, but we’ll stay with him tonight to be sure. Tate.”
His head snapped up, indigo gaze filled with barely restrained aversion. “What?”
“You established a rapport with Katie?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. With her abilities and glowing eyes, I knew right away what she was, but Madigan didn’t let us socialize. The only time we had together was when she was instructed to kill me. At first, she was merciless about it. Then I started calling her Katie and talking to her while we fought. She never said so, but she liked that.”
“How could you tell?”
Tate met his stare without resentment this time. “Because in the past two weeks, she got good enough to take my head off, yet she didn’t, and she hid that from Madigan.”
My eyes burned from more unshed tears. The poor girl had been in the most heartless form of captivity since she was an infant. Tate must have been the closest thing she’d ever had to a friend.
“So if she saw you,” Bones went on, “she might not run. Or try to murder you as she did Denise.”
Spade tensed at that. Denise looked away guiltily. Guess she hadn’t told him who’d bloodied her up the most.
Tate’s smile was wry. “Depends. I told her to kill anyone who came after her. That might include me, with how methodical her mind works.”
“Are you willing to take that risk?” Bones asked bluntly.
Tate snorted. “Do I look like a * to you?”
“No,” Bones replied with a ghost of a smile. “You look like the same stubborn, reckless, devoted sod I’ve almost killed a hundred times over, which is why you’re perfect for the job.”
“And you’re the same overbearing asshole you’ve always been,” Tate replied, eyes glinting green. “But you’re right. For this, I’m your man.”
Somehow, after that insult-laden discourse, they exchanged a look of complete understanding. I shook my head. Maybe they’d always dislike each other, but perhaps mutual respect could still exist between them.
“Then get to it,” Bones stated. “Ian? Take him back to Point Pleasant. Fabian stayed behind to help. Perhaps he’ll have good news.”
Ian really didn’t like Tate, so I expected anything except his jubilant, “Let’s be off, then!” before he snatched Tate up and blasted off like a rocket. Why would he . . . ? Oh, right.