Valencia stood still, hardly breathing, as she stared at the tampered lock. Glancing around her beach-facing patio, she took in the disrupted pile of towels, the slight variance in the arrangement of the flowers in the vase on the patio table. Valencia fussed over the flower arrangement while running her finger around the rim, finding a tiny camera and hearing device. While rearranging the stems and leaves, she dislodged the camera and microphone dropping them into the water. A small puff of smoke rose. Hopefully, that would upset the plans of the owner. A piece of paper under the stone next to the patio door caught Valencia's attention. Retrieving it, Valencia flicked it open.

"We are a go."Valencia frowned at the short sentence. What was a go? Who was being referred to in the note? She didn't recognise the writing. The paper was the usual type used in offices. Folding it into a small square, she closed her hand, pushing it into her pants pocket. Taking out her key, she carefully unlocked and opened the door. The pungent smell of chemicals slammed into her senses, scorching her nose and making her eyes water. Looking around the large kitchen area, her gaze fell on a pristine white jacket. Her heart stuttered in her chest as traumatising memories flooded in. Sucking in air, she turned, quickly leaving and closing the door quietly behind her. The memories of that smell brought a hard shudder from her body. She couldn't go home or be alone. Her nightmare was playing out, and there was no way to stop it.

Moving quickly toward the main street, keeping vigilantly alert, noting anything that could be a danger. Valencia headed for the nearby Mexican tavern boasting spicy food and good tequila. The sensation of being watched crawled over her skin as she slipped into the side door. Finding a corner where she could sit with her back to the wall and watch the room, she slid into the booth.

"Thought you would be at the house," a smooth French accent muttered, "after a long day at work, you like going home and relaxing in a bubble bath?"

Valencia met the steady, cold gaze drilling into her. She could sense the man was an experiment, a highly enhanced fanatic belonging to Darcia. Her screening ability rose into place. Handy even after she was released to do the bidding of that insane woman who was under the impression Valcenca still did her bidding.

"What news do you have?" the French voice asked.Valencia took in his perfectly groomed hair and clean, shaved pointed jaw. The long nose and thin lips reminded her of the witches from fairy tales. The sinister smile lifting those thin lips danced chills across her skin and sank deep into her bones. The crisp white shirt and long black dress pants, along with an ankle-length overcoat, made him out of place. She refused to answer, silently holding her ground.

"Do you have any news?" the thin lips curled up slightly as they formed the words.

Slowly a silencer adorned gun appeared from under the coat.

"What makes you think I have any news?" Valencia asked quietly, "and of what?"

"You still play the same game," pulling the gun into full view and pointing it at her, "you have a note with you."

Valencia frowned, "I picked up a piece of paper. It had nothing on it," cocking her head to the left, "how do you know I picked up a paper? Do you ask everyone who does if they have news?"

"Do you think you are not watched?" he spat, "you think you are free to do and be whatever you decide?"

"I assumed you would allow me to move about without drawing too much attention," she glanced behind him at the heavily muscled man approaching them. The gun disappeared as muscle man settled at the table next to the French man.

"How is everyone doing today?" his assessing look slid from Valencia to the man at his side, "the lady was looking a little distressed."

"No need for alarm," the French man spoke smoothly, his cold eyes sliding to meet those of the man next to him. Another experiment, she needed to leave, now.

"If you'll excuse me," Valencia said quietly, a small smile lifting the side of her lips.

Her senses came online once more as she began to move from the seat. Casually meeting the watchful pair of topaz eyes across the room. Another enhanced form. Damn, they were everywhere tonight. What was going on? Moving in the direction of the man's table, she suddenly detoured through the tavern's front door. Glancing over her shoulder, she found the topaz eyed enhancement following her. The light of a street lamp flashed off the metal of his necklace.

"Cheese and crackers," she muttered, slowly increasing her pace.

Rounding a corner, Valencia looked for somewhere to hide. She saw a dumpster against one wall, some empty wooden crates, a barrel standing to one side of a door. There was nowhere for her to hide. Instinct told her this was a retrieval team for her. Desperation slammed through her as she searched for somewhere to hide. Tonight's encounter wasn't a surprise. Since her necklace had fallen into the sink of dishwater, she had been expecting a reaction. A slight noise caught her attention. Spinning toward it, she gasped as a hand clamped over her mouth, pulling her into a dark alcove in the alleyway. How had she not seen it?

Valencia tried to think past the panic, squirming against the strong arm holding her to the hard chest and her head to a broad shoulder.

"Don't move," a hot whisper skated down her cheek, "you want to live?"

Valencia gave a slight nod.

"Good," he moved them further back into the shadows, "don't move, or they will find us."

Panic rose in Valencia's throat. The sound of approaching footsteps froze her in place. The arm around her waist lifted away, and a bare hand spread wide in front of them. A moment later, the topaz eyed man from the tavern came into the alley, a mobile phone held to his ear.

"She just left the tavern," he muttered quietly, "yes, both Gustav and Frank were there."

Valencia watched as he turned toward them, listening to the conversation on the other end. He looked into the alcove where they hid, then looked away again.

"She has to be here somewhere," he grunted, "I'll go to the house and see if the doc had any luck."

Valencia watched as the man ended the call and walked away. She sagged against the man behind her. Slowly he raised his hand from her mouth, allowing fresh air to reach her.

"Who are you?" Valencia whispered.

"Did you get a note under a rock?" his deep voice rumbled against her back, and his eyes glittered down at her.

"I asked a question first," she hissed, "you answer mine, and I'll answer yours."

"Damn stubborn woman," he ground out, "this is not a game."

"I know it's not a game," she hissed back, "who are you?"

"Reilly," he snarled, "the note under the rock."

Huffing Valencia handed him the note, "It says we are a go."

"Is that all it says?" his eyes snapped to hers.

"Yes," she sighed, "do you know what it means?"

"Yep," he grasped her arm, dragging her with him as he left the alcove, checking the alley before moving in the opposite direction.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Quiet," he whispered, "just follow me."

Valencia wanted to object. Dig in her heels. Something about this whole situation seemed bizarre. Following a maze of alleyways, ducking and diving until Valencia felt lost and directionally confused. Finally coming to a doorway. The man knocked three times, paused and knocked a single knock. The door opened, and Valencia was pulled through into a dark room. She could hear the nearby crashing waves, the smell of furniture polish, and blooming jasmine flowers in the darkness. A faint click came in the stillness and then a hydraulic whir as the floor lowered slowly, making her grasp the shirt of the man who had saved her. They came to a stop. She felt the man move away from her. Putting her hand out, she felt a wall, slowly following it. Valencia stopped when the wall was no longer.

"Where are we?" her quiet question sounded like a thunderclap in the all-consuming darkness. It felt oppressive, almost claustrophobic.

"Ah, sorry," the deep voice whispered, a click brought a lamp to life, "forget that not everyone has enhanced vision to the extent I do."

"Enhanced … you work with Darcia?"

"No," the emotionless answer chilled Valencia, "I was in her house of madness for three years."

"How did you get out?" Valencia walked toward this mystery man as he bent to open a trap door in the corner of the living room.

"I didn't," he said, securing the door to the wall, "she released me with strict instructions on how to assassinate a certain defence attorney."

"Did you?" Valencia continued as Reilly frowned questioningly at her, "follow through?"

"No," Reilly shook his head, "Jesse met me at my release point and destroyed the necklace Darcia had given me."

"You know Jesse," Valencia nodded; some of this evening started to make sense, "where did you know him from?"

"We were once in the same military unit," Reilly said quietly.

"So you know each other well," Valencia nodded.

"Yes, along with the deceitful, pugnacious Judas team member," he looked directly at her pinning her with his eyes, "Tyler."

"Tyler?" Valencia frowned, "Tyler is dead."

"No, Tyler is supposed to be dead," Reilly shook his head, "but we suspect he isn't."

"He is alive?" Valencia felt her face drain, it was hard to breathe, and her skin felt cold and clammy.

"Officially, no," Reilly sighed, "but no one believes that. We all had theories. Personally, I believe he is off somewhere working as a hitman to the highest bidder."

Valencia sank onto the sofa, her mind reeling as she tried to process the new information. She had the MIA paperwork in a safe deposit box. Her brother was not a nice person, and neither was he a favourite with her family. Their father was in a wheelchair because of Tyler. Their mother refused to open the door when he had come to visit. Even when they moved into a retirement home, the security was always extremely tight.

"You okay?" Reilly squatted in front of her, "you look... very... pale."

"My brother and I never got on," she said quietly, rubbing her hands over her face, "if he is alive …" she breathed in deeply, before shuddering, "that is not a thought I would want to have ... it cannot be. Tyler is dead, there is paperwork."

"Tyler is alive," Reilly spoke softly, "we never found a body."

"No," Valencia yelled, "he has to be dead. He has to be ... dead"

"Is it so bad that he isn't?" Reilly murmured.

"If Tyler is alive," Valencia whispered, "none of my family is safe."