Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

Irish was three seconds away from breaking Roderick Martin’s neck. In any other circumstances, he’d be impressed with the way the man had controlled the situation so the outcome turned out in his favor.

This was Cass’s life the guy was messing with, and he fucking hated it.

“Are you going to be able to stay here, or am I going to have to make you leave?” Ox muttered.

Irish took a couple of deep breaths. Called on all his Delta training to control his emotions and lock them deep down. “I’m good.”

His boss studied him for a few more seconds before nodding and stepping back. “While I believe you’re proud of yourself and what you’ve achieved in your career, Martin, you were just faced with the consequences of what you’ve done, and your ‘don’t give a shit attitude’ shouldn’t surprise me, but it does,” Ox said. “Did the Government really suck all your compassion out of you?”

Being a Delta meant there were times when Irish had had to steel his emotions against getting involved because of what he was seeing. How innocent people were treated. Yet when away from it all, he allowed himself to feel the anger. The sorrow. When he was able to, he showed compassion when needed. He also showed nothing but rage to those who deserved it.

“I had a job to do, and I did it to the best of my ability. I told you I couldn’t talk about what I’ve done.”

“What about if it would help the person? Don’t you think giving Cass something would help her process what she’s been through? What you all put her through?” Irish asked, trying to dig to see if there was even a hint of a chink in the man’s armor. For a brief moment, when Cass had first talked about having flashbacks, it’d been there, but he’d quickly sewed up that rip.

Roderick sighed, and his shoulders lowered a little. Perhaps there was a beating heart beneath the tough shell. “I admit that there are things I wish I could change, but in the end, things turned out better for her.”

Irish scoffed. “Really? You honestly think that?”

Again, Roderick Martin shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him.

Irish glanced at Ox, as if his friend could shed any light on the matter, but the slight shake of his head imparted that even he was at a loss on how to get the answers they sought.

The more he thought about what happened to Cass, the more anger scored his skin until he was sure angry red slashes marked his flesh. “You fucking brainwashed her through electrical pulses in her brain. Retrained her to think the only language she knew was English. That her life was based in here in the United States. Why? What purpose did it serve?”

From the moment she’d relayed her flashbacks, his first thought had been that she’d been brainwashed, but he hadn’t wanted to say it.

Cass was intelligent enough to know that was a possibility, but like him, perhaps she didn’t want to talk about it because it made it more real.

The concept was so invasive and so science fiction that people sometimes had a hard time believing it was a technique used by governments. Yet, that was exactly what they’d done to Cass .

An innocent child.

Roderick remained stoic, as if Irish’s words bounced off him, showing that he had no plans to answer him.

“Do you imagine her life would’ve been better if she’d stayed in Mexico? Her father was out of the picture. We all know what happened immediately after Manuel Ramirez was killed. The blood that was shed for years to gain control of the Cartel. Cassandra would’ve been collateral damage. The agent that didn’t leave her behind made the best decision at the time.”

“That may be, but what you did went beyond the norm. She was a child . In a place where she probably didn’t understand what was being said. What was happening to her. Where her father was gone. She had to have been frightened, and instead of being caring, you treated her as if she were worthless,” Irish spat, barely keeping his voice shy of a yell.

“He’s right, though.”

He whipped around, blinking when he took in the woman who was quickly becoming his whole world.

When had she come back? How much did she hear?

Cass’s eyes were puffy, and the tip of her nose was shiny, evidence of the tears she’d shed.

His heart clenched that she’d been upset, and he hadn’t been there to provide her with the support she needed. Irish pushed his chair back and strode over to her. Not giving a fuck if he was showing his hand to the former agent, he pulled Cass close and kissed the top of her head. “You good?” he murmured.

“No, but I have to do this. I have to try to get answers, even though I know I won’t really get what I want.”

“I get that, but the minute you feel you need a breather, let me know and I’ll get you out of here.”

Cass nodded, but her chin lifted in determination.

No way was she going to back down, and Irish couldn’t be prouder of her.

After she’d taken her seat, he sat beside her, pulling her hand into his so he could give her support.

“As I said a few moments ago, Roderick is correct. I may not be alive today if I’d stayed in Mexico. Or what I would be doing if I’d been allowed to stay alive. However, having said that, it still doesn’t condone what you did to me. Or what you took from me. You have no idea if your methods will affect me in the future or not, even more than the headaches I’m currently experiencing.”

Was she making any impression on Roderick? At first, she didn’t seem to be, but at the last second, the former agent looked away.

“You’re right,” the former psychologist conceded. “It wasn’t fair to put you through that as a child. I can’t say that I would’ve done things differently because that’s not how I look at life.”

Irish opened his mouth to blast the man, but Roderick held up his hand.

“I stand by the work that I did for the government. Yes, it was unsavory on occasions, but other times, the ends justified the means.”

“What possible good outcome came from violating my mind?” Cass blurted, her fingers gripping his tightly.

This time, Roderick didn’t have any response. He just gazed at her as though he were trying to delve into her mind and study her again.

“You’re an asshole, Martin. Do you know that?” Irish ground out.

“You can’t tell me you’re unsullied. I know a former military man when I see one. Don’t sit in judgment when you’ve done things that go against your moral fiber.”

Of course, he’d picked up Irish had been in the service. Roderick was right. Perhaps it was in the way they held themselves. Or a certain look, but even after all this time out of the Army, Irish could pick out people who’d served walking down the street .

He might even be right. Irish had done things he hadn’t liked doing. He’d been following orders. It wasn’t like he could disobey them.

Following orders.

Just like former Intelligence Officer Roderick Martin had been doing. Could he really judge the man harshly?

Yes, dammit. He could.

Did that make him a hypocrite?

He didn’t fucking care if it did.

“Semantics,” Irish said.

“Doesn’t feel good, holding a mirror up. Does it?” Martin taunted.

“Enough,” Ox bellowed, and it echoed in the conference room. “None of this posturing is going to solve the problems Cass is experiencing. So, let’s wheel back to one question that was asked earlier—what other symptoms will Cass likely have? What can we do to prevent it? Or if that isn’t possible, mitigate the severity of them?”

Beside Irish, Cass shifted her seat and leaned against his shoulder.

Her exhaustion seeped into him. If only there were a way he could make this all go away. Take away the headaches. Take away whatever damage had been done to her and give her the life she deserved .

Even if they got this matter sorted out, her uncle’s presence was lurking like a dark shadow in the corner, threatening to bleed out until blackness covered everyone.

“Cassandra wasn’t the last person I used similar techniques on,” Roderick started.

Irish’s stomach pitched at the thought of more people going through what Cass had gone through. The ugly side of the work various agencies did was never appealing to look at or acknowledge. However, if the average joe on the street knew what he’d done on certain missions, they’d be disgusted with him.

“Do you have any contact with them?” Cass asked.

“There were follow-up observations done. Still being done. If my colleagues are aware of any of them getting flashbacks, they’d advise me. You are the first one I know of.” Roderick leaned back, as if nonchalantly, but the movement was a subtle action of distancing himself from the situation.

“Can’t say I like that honor,” Cass murmured. “What is your clinical diagnosis for this to be happening now after all these years?”

The man pursed his lips.

Would the man lie to Cass? Lie to appease his guilt?

Irish doubted he’d do it to ease his own conscience. However, the possibility that he’d lie was the most likely outcome.

“Has something happened recently that could be a possible trigger to unlock that part of the brain? Not that that should happen. Our methods tried to account for everything associated with a patient’s past,” the doctor said.

It couldn’t be as simple as the company having the Ramirez cartel turn up on their radar on more than one occasion?

“We’ve recently had some close dealings with her father’s cartel,” Irish said.

Roderick canted his head to the side as though considering the possibility. “I wouldn’t think it would be that.” He laid his palms flat on the table. “I don’t know why this is happening. It shouldn’t be, but it is.”

“That’s super helpful, thank you.” Sarcasm dripped from Cass’s words. “I’m just supposed to deal with these blinding headaches and hope that they’ll fade or that my damaged mind will recover everything you tried to erase, and it will all be over?”

The man shrugged. “It could happen. The mind is still a mystery. That’s what makes it so fascinating. It does things we least expect it to do.”

Again, a non-answer, but he was likely telling the truth. Believed he had no idea why this was happening to Cass.

They were back to where they’d started at the beginning of this meeting—no resolution to stopping Cass’s pain.

“Is that all?” Roderick asked, as he pushed his chair back.

“I won’t say thank you for your time because you’ve done nothing to help.” Cass stood and walked out of the room.

Irish watched her leave, and once the door shut, he was on the move, once again pushing Roderick against the wall. “I may have done things for my country, but at least I didn’t lose my soul like you have. If you find a speck of decency and want to truly help, you know where to find us.”