She’d hoped by losing so many of their recruits, Augustus would be forced to take a more hands-on approach and appear before her and the others.
The only time he had made an appearance, he’d come cloaked in darkness, wearing a black conical hood and a mask over his face. No one knew exactly who he was.
PJ doubted even his closest contacts had seen his face. He’d emphasized that they needed to keep a low profile, especially since their last location had been breached and blown wide open. At the same time, he wanted them to bring on new recruits—and fast.
Augustus had other ideas he wanted to pursue. He seemed to be on an urgent path to rebuild their army for something big.
“Look,” Wiley said, “we don’t have time to train someone to fire a gun. We need to bring on board people who have the skills. People who think the way we do. People who are tired of the way this country is being run and are ready to do something about it. Once we find them, then we only have to train them in The Chosen Way.”
The last thing she needed was one more person added to the mix to get in the way of her discovering the identity of Augustus. It could end up driving him deeper undercover.
Hell, she’d stuck with The Chosen Way insanity for a long time, hoping to work her way up the food chain so that, eventually, Augustus would reveal himself to her or at least slip up sometime so that she could follow him and discover his real identity. Then, she’d take him down. He’d ruined so many lives that she’d lost count. He had to be stopped. Once he was eliminated, she’d leave TCW forever.
PJ shook her head. “How do you know he’s not a spy?”
“If you’re so concerned about the new guy, you can train him,” Wiley said.
“Oh, no.” She held up her hands. “You found him. You train him.”
“I found him,” Wiley said. “You get to do the rest of the work. Besides, you’re better at the training side.” His cell phone buzzed, and he answered. “Yes, sir…Yes, sir.” He ended the call and met PJ’s gaze. “That was Augustus. You’re training the new guy.”
“Great.” PJ sighed. Training the new recruit would tie her up. She didn’t have time to babysit the captive when she needed to get to Augustus and eliminate him before he planned something truly heinous. Only after he was gone could PJ get back to her normal life before she’d been kidnapped and indoctrinated into TCW.
She almost laughed out loud.
Normal life.
How could she ever go back to a normal life?
Assassins didn’t have normal lives. She’d killed.
Granted, her targeted had been as evil as Augustus. Just because he was bad didn’t make killing him right. A long-term jail sentence would have made them suffer more than a quick death.
Fortunately, she’d dealt with him in a way that had appeared accidental, to the point the authorities never investigated his death. And the world was one terrorist less.
She glanced across the darkened room at the man seated in a chair, bound to it with duct tape. Her heart pinched hard in her chest.
He’d seemed like a nice, normal guy when she’d waited on him at the tavern. How the hell had he let himself get lured into TCW by Wiley? She’d thought for sure he had more sense than that.
Too bad he didn’t.
Now, she’d have to indoctrinate him into TCW and train him to be an assassin. And if he didn’t like what he was doing, or one of the leaders had an issue with him, she’d have to find a way to get him out alive. TCW didn’t let people just leave. She’d helped a woman and her child escape once, but that had been an exception. If she did it too often, she’d slip up or be seen. Then her own life would be on the line. They’d kill her, and then, who would take out Augustus and stop all this nonsense?
* * *
Judge fought his way through a thick haze to surface into consciousness. Nearby voices helped to pull him awake the rest of the way. Familiar voices he’d heard before.
When he opened his eyes, it did nothing to dispel the darkness. He tried to move, but his arms remained clamped to his sides, and his chest was constricted by thick straps holding his back against a hard surface. When he attempted to move his legs, he couldn’t. Something around his ankles kept him anchored. He was sitting on something. A chair?
“He’s awake,” a female voice said.
Footsteps sounded, advancing toward him. Something touched his head, and suddenly, the dark sack engulfing him in darkness was lifted from his head. Soft yellow light shone down on him. A second later, bright light stabbed him in the eyes, blinding him to the people around him.
A man stepped into the light.
Wiley. The man Judge had met in the bar held Judge’s wallet in his hands. He pulled out the fake driver’s license and studied it. “So, Jud McPherson, why are you here?”
Judge met his gaze. “You tell me.”
“You’re the one who said you wanted to make a difference.” Wiley waved his hand. “I invited you to join an organization that’s making a difference. What do you hope to gain?”
His lips thinning, Judge glared at Wiley. “Well, I certainly didn’t hope to be abducted and drugged.”
“How do we know you weren’t sent by the FBI, DEA or some other government entity to spy on us?”
Judge stared back at Wiley. “How do I know you’re not the FBI, DEA or some other organization?”
Wiley backhanded him, the heavy metal ring on his finger smashed against Judge’s cheekbone.
Judge’s head snapped back, and pain shot through his face. Warm liquid slid down his cheek. He gritted his teeth and turned back to Wiley, his eyes narrowing into slits.
“If you become one of us, you will follow strict rules and regulations and show respect for those in charge,” Wiley said.
“Respect is earned, not demanded.”
“In order to maintain discipline among our recruits, respect is expected immediately and earned over time. And it goes both ways.”
“Recruits for what?” Judge asked.
“You’ll be indoctrinated when, and if, you decide to stay.”
“What makes you think I’d want to stay?” Judge asked while blood slid down his face and dropped onto his leg.
Wiley crossed his arms over his chest. “In the bar, you said you were tired of the way things were going and that you wanted to make a difference. The question is,” Wiley asked, “did you really want to make a difference, or were you just blowing smoke up my ass?”
“It depends on what kind of difference you’re talking about,” Judge said. “If making a difference means subjugating people into following a leader whose main goal is personal gain, then I’m out. If you mean making a difference in the way this country is run to make it a better place to live and to improve the lives of others, I’m your man. But I won’t tolerate being tied to a chair, slapped around and bullied. And if you hit me again, I will get free, and I will take you down.”
Wiley’s eyes narrowed. He glanced over Judge’s shoulder to someone standing behind him.
“Let’s talk,” the female voice said.
Wiley left Judge and stepped into the shadow with the woman.
Judge squinted against the glaring light shining down on his face while Wiley and his female counterpart whispered in the darkness.