“You’re in denial,” I shot back. “She’s brilliant, so why would Saberton have her locked down unless they wanted to keep her psychopathic ass under control?”
Rosario summoned a haughty sneer. “She wouldn’t willingly participate in their vicious agenda.”
“Yet somehow she did all the cruel and nasty shit they wanted. Even came up with new ones of her own. Isn’t that weird?”
“They brainwashed her,” he said, but his voice wasn’t as steady. “That’s why I . . . she needed to get away from that place. To recover—”
“How long did it take for her to recover?” I pressed. “A week? Two?”
“It’s not like that. She’s still recovering! That’s why we haven’t begun to move forward on the plans to expose Saberton.”
“Uh huh, yet she’s okay enough to go through videos of tortured zombies and pick out juicy clips fo
r you.”
His eyes darted around as if seeking the words to convince me. As if. I advanced on him and went in for the kill.
“She told you I was about to go nuclear as a result of Saberton testing and that I had to be kidnapped. For my own good. Funny thing, though. It’s been over a year since I was a subject in a Saberton lab. Yet suddenly now I’m about to go mega-monster?” I graced him with my best expression of withering scorn. “And let’s not forget that she was brainwashed all this time and is still amazingly functional. A lesser mortal would be drooling in a padded corner.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly,” I said with a humorless laugh. “Here, let me lay it all out for you. Kristi Charish is perfectly fine. Better than fine. In fact, she’s at the top of her game, especially when it comes to manipulating people to get what she wants.” I softened my voice. “Dante, she’s playing you for a fool. There’s no way in hell she’d publicly expose Saberton, because that would also trot out all of her own dirty little secrets.”
He licked his lips, eyes pleading with me. “No, you’re wrong. She’s not fine. She’s fragile. That’s why we . . . why she needs me to take care of her.”
“Fragile.” I gave him a long look. I almost—almost felt sorry for the chump. “I guess that word has a different meaning in your neck of the woods. I can’t imagine how a person who’s been made fragile through deliberate brainwashing could mastermind the kind of wheeling and dealing she’s been doing with Saberton and my people for the past few days.”
Rosario stared at me, mouth working as he groped for a reply, a comeback. Anything. My last statement had been the one brushstroke that changed the picture—kind of like adding a Hitler mustache—and now he struggled to understand this new image. I had a suspicion there were little details about Kristi that he’d dismissed or excused since they didn’t fit into his “poor fragile Kristi” picture. With a little dose of reality feedback, he was starting to realize that those same details fit into this new picture like the smile on that Mona Lisa chick.
The tent flap flew open. Finally, I thought with relief. But instead of the bulk of Bear, a petite form burst in.
“Angel!” Justine Chu screeched in delight, a Hurricane drink glass in one hand and a phone in the other. A canary yellow feather boa was draped around her neck along with a dozen pairs of Mardi Gras beads. A tight silver dress barely covered her various naughty bits.
I quickly holstered my gun—without shooting myself in the ass like I had in New York. Nick yanked his gun out of sight while Rosario shifted so that Justine couldn’t see the handcuffs. None of us wanted witnesses to this bullshit.
“Hey, Justine!” I said, doing my darndest to sound really thrilled to see her even though worry churned in my gut. Where the fuck was Bear?
Justine tottered forward in high-heeled purple boots, grinning widely and happily oblivious to anything out of the ordinary. “I’ve been looking all over for you, and here you are!” She flung her arms wide, dousing Nick with rum and fruit juice.
“Why were you looking for me?” I asked. Shit. Did that sound paranoid? Yeah, that totally sounded paranoid.
Fortunately, Justine didn’t notice. “Well. About an hour ago I saw a petite little masked blondie and thought maybe that was you ’cause you’re tiny and have blonde hair, y’know?” She swayed near Rosario and gave him an unfocused once-over. I tensed, ready to surge to her rescue if he tried anything, but she merely gave him a wink and a chuck on the chin and continued my way. “Then the blonde babe turned and went the other way, and I was like, Oh my god, I know that cute little butt! And now I’m here and you’re here, and I have to tell you”—she took a deep breath—“this Mardi Gras shit is awful!”
“Huh?” I’d been trying to split my attention between her and Rosario, which obviously wasn’t working. “Wait. Why?”
She looked at me very seriously, if not soberly. “Because . . . I am really fucking drunk.”
“No. Way.”
Justine let out a peal of laughter. “I know, right?”
“Welcome to Louisiana,” I said with a cheery grin even as I tried to keep tabs on everything else. Nick had one eye on Rosario and the other on his phone as he sent a text. Trying to get hold of Bear, I was certain, and the tension in his stance told me there’d been no reply.
Rosario. My gut dropped. He was watching Justine with a friendly, approachable smile. His stance was calm and comfortable, as if standing with his hands behind his back was natural and certainly not at all because they were handcuffed. He didn’t give off the cold-blooded killer vibe, but I knew he’d done something to Bear. I needed to wring the truth out of him, but first I had to get Justine out of here.
I took her arm to steer her toward the entrance, but she planted her purple-booted feet and swung a fierce look at the two men.
“This woman saved me from Val Kilmer!” she announced. “And because of that she never got a picture with me!”