The Sentinel Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE Sonya

  CHAPTER TWO Cole

  CHAPTER THREE Cole

  CHAPTER FOUR Cole

  CHAPTER FIVE Sonya

  CHAPTER SIX Sonya

  CHAPTER SEVEN Cole

  CHAPTER EIGHT Sonya

  CHAPTER NINE Sonya

  CHAPTER TEN Sonya

  CHAPTER ELEVEN Sonya

  CHAPTER TWELVE Sonya

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN Sonya

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN Sonya

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN Sonya

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN Sonya

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Sonya

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Sonya

  CHAPTER NINETEEN Sonya

  CHAPTER TWENTY Sonya

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Sonya

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Sonya

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Risa

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Risa

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Cole

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Cole

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Sonya

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Sonya

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Risa

  CHAPTER THIRTY Risa

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE Risa

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO Risa

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE Risa

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR Cole

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE Cole

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX Cole

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN Cole

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT Risa

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE Risa

  CHAPTER FORTY Sonya

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE Sonya

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO Sonya

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE Cole

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR Cole

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE Risa

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX Sonya

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN Risa

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT Cole

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE Cole

  CHAPTER FIFTY Cole

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE Sonya

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO Cole

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE Ray

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR Sonya

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE Sonya

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX Sonya

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN Epilogue

  Social Media

  The Sentinel

  Sentinel Series Book 1

  C. Cato

  JUST CATO PUBLICATIONS

  The Sentinel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media,

  and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products

  referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Copyright © 2019 C. Cato

  All Rights Reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher and the copyright owner constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  First Edition: August 2019

  Editing by Teresa Connor of Wolfsparrow Covers

  Cover design by Teresa Connor of Wolfsparrow Covers

  To Dad —

  Thanks for all the yeses

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sonya

  Sentinel One online

  All systems functioning

  Power level: 100%

  Weapons system: Online

  Awareness returned with a sharp sting. With awareness came the sights and sounds of what had to be a war zone. Alarms blared overhead and red lights flashed ominously. A woman dressed in a space-age, white bodysuit, gun strapped to her thigh, stood behind and to the left of a man in the same. This could only be a dream. How else could she describe going to see her mother for lunch and waking up on what appeared to be a movie set? Or had she been going to the office? Why was her memory so fuzzy?

  My name is Dr. Sonya Temple. At least, she remembered that much.

  The air around her was musty, like an old attic that had recently opened, letting in the breeze.

  “She’s awake!” yelled the man.

  Sonya didn’t think he was talking to the woman behind him. She didn’t give the impression she was having any issues hearing. That meant there was more of them. The man pressed closer. Short strawberry blonde hair was wild on his head, like he’d just woken up, and his eyes were the most unique blue she’d ever seen. They glowed with a life of their own, giving them the appearance of pure pale sapphires.

  Flinching, Sonya blinked as a light flashed in her eye, and swatted away the penlight burning through her retina.

  “Do you remember your name?”

  Why would he ask that? Had she been in an accident? That might explain the strange environment and memory loss. “I’m Dr. Sonya Temple. Who are you?” Sonya tried to get up, but her body was slow to respond. Wanting to check for herself, she tipped her chin down to assess any damage, but there was nothing to see. They wore the same clothes. Had a cult kidnapped her?

  “Take it easy,” said the would-be rescuer. “You’ve been asleep a long time. It’s going to take a few minutes for your body to catch up.”

  What did that mean? Asleep for a long time? “Are you a doctor?” she asked, not sure she had a grasp on reality yet.

  The man laughed. It was easy. Honest. It did nothing to lessen the sweat that had broken out on her forehead or the shaking of her hands.

  “No, ma’am. Field medic. Name is Ditre Fenton. Want to try and get up again?”

  She closed and opened her eyes, but the world didn’t make any more sense the second time than it did the first. “Yes, please.”

  Ditre took her hand and supported her arm at the elbow while she struggled into a true upright position. Whatever she was lying on was set at a shallow angle, putting her almost on her feet. She only had to straighten up and step down. Taking a ginger step onto the floor, everything spun on a strange tilted axis and she stumbled, but the medic was there to hold her steady. Ditre stepped away as soon as she was stable. She was grateful for the distance.

  “Okay, you don’t seem to have suffered any ill-effects, but let me know if you notice something. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?” Ditre stood in front of her, blocking her view of the rest of the room. He had a boyish half grin that probably drove the women wild, but only made her more wary.

  A relentless pounding kept tempo in her head. Sonya massaged her temple, and brushed three small bumps on the right that hadn’t been there before. “What is that?” she asked, chest rising and falling at a faster rate, her hands slicked with sweat.

  “Whoa. You need to calm down, Doctor,” he said, stepping closer.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  He threw his hands up defensively and took a step back, while the blonde came closer, her hand lightly resting on her thigh above the gun.

  The shaking in Sonya’s hands had traveled up her arms and into her chest and the room dimmed slightly as her lungs fought for oxygen. Were these people going to kill her?

  “Chill, Pixie,” said Ditre, glaring at his companion before blocking Sonya’s view of the woman entirely. “We aren’t going to hurt you. I promise.”

  What good was the promise of a stranger? She needed to get away from them, but logic would have to prevail. Taking deep cleansing breaths, she waited until her heart had calmed down. If they thought she was cooperating, she’d have a better chance of getting away and calling the police. “Could one
of you call my mentor? His name is Dr. Ian Whitman. Whatever has happened, he can take over once he arrives.”

  The small woman and soft spoken man exchanged a glance. It was quick. Barely there. Sonya couldn’t interpret it.

  Ditre turned to her and raised his hands again. “What I’m going to tell you is going to be a bit shocking but try to stay calm.”

  He spoke slowly like he was talking to a child. Slow boiling rage replaced panic.

  “You were in an accident. A car hit you. Weren’t expected to live more than a few days, if that.”

  Her jaw ticked. The man was lying. That could be the only answer. Why wasn’t she in a hospital if she’d gotten hurt?

  He continued, not noticing any change in her expression. “Dr. Whitman refused to give up on you. He used your own genesis nanobots to save your life.”

  This set off alarms in her head that were much louder than the ones clanging in the room. The only people to know about it were her and her mentor, their two research assistants and the board of their company. How did this man know? She didn’t believe for one second that Ian would have done something so stupid as to use it. On her! It was dangerous. Unstable. If he’d done that, she would be dead now.

  Getting out and away from them had now become her number one priority. Subtly checking him out, Sonya saw that Ditre wore a gun just like the woman he’d called Pixie. First order of business: find a weapon.

  “Ditre! We need her up and movin’ ASAP!” came a gruff voice from somewhere to the right and behind her.

  A soft southern twang. The sound of it sent shivers of pure pleasure down her spine and straight to her core. It was like a favorite melody she knew by heart. Reminded her of home. How was that possible?

  “Understood, Sarge,” Ditre barked.

  “Sarge? Are we in a military facility?” she asked, trying to dig for anything that would help her figure out where she was.

  “After a fashion,” he said, moving enough out of the way for her to step away from the strange bed. The little woman stayed close to him. And she was little. The top of her head didn’t even clear Sonya’s shoulder, but Sonya had no intentions of messing with her. Something in those big blue eyes scared the crap out of her.

  Trying to be discreet, she searched the room for anything she could use. It was circular and not very large. Probably no more than twenty feet in diameter. There were more beds surrounding the room. Five, including the one she’d been in. Each had a display set into the wall behind. It reminded her of one of those sci-fi show beds they always had in sick bay.

  The alarm bells cut off abruptly, leaving her ears ringing in the new silence. “Why were the alarms going off?”

  “We have intruders. They triggered something that woke us all up. Sarge is assessing the danger, but he wants us ready to move,” said Ditre.

  “You got this, Deets?” asked the woman, eyes narrowed.

  “Yeah. We’ll be fine.”

  “Um…” Sonya tried to sound convincing. “Look, I just need a minute, okay. Go do what you do. I’ll be along in a second.”

  Ditre’s brow furrowed, his head tilting in concern. “Are you sure? I can stay with you as long as you need.”

  “I think you’ve done enough. I can handle it from here.”

  He offered a shy smile and bobbed his head before trotting after Pixie through the only open door. There was a short hallway leading to another brightly lit space, and she could see more people hurrying back and forth inside. Sonya held her breath to see if someone would come back to get her, but no one did. Letting out the air, she frantically searched around the room for something to protect herself. The room was impeccably clean. The cement floors were clean of even the smallest speck of dust.

  Ducking her head, she checked behind the beds until she found one with an open panel in back. A small toolbox lay open beside it. Perfect! Quietly, she dug through it until she found a small screwdriver. The kind with the pointy star-shaped end. It was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. Closing her fist around it, she strolled as calmly as she could to the next room.

  This one had a control panel that seemed to wrap around most of the way around, monitors covered the walls. Screens flashed different scenes for ten seconds before changing. Two men were flipping switches at the controls and watching the monitors, heads bent together as they urgently spoke in hushed undertones.

  “Sarge?” said the woman. “Doc’s here.” She was leaning against the wall next to another door ten feet from her current position. Sonya doubted she’d be able to run past her.

  The larger of the two men, glanced briefly over his shoulder and grunted in approval. “Give us a second, Doctor.”

  That was him! The voice that had her insides twisting in knots. Even at her own six feet tall, he appeared to dwarf her. The white bodysuit that they all wore did nothing to hide the cords of muscle along the expanse of his back and thighs. She’d never wanted to touch something so much in her entire life. Was this what Stockholm Syndrome felt like?

  “Report, Ditre!”

  The voice in her head caught her off guard and she reached for the wall beside her with her empty hand. What the hell was that?

  It was his voice. The tall southern man, but it had a hollow ring to it. Like the voices she would hear over the two-way they’d used in the ER for incoming traumas.

  “First level breech only. Main door. Deterrents are keeping them there. Elevator is disabled, entry is rigged to explode, but that won’t stop them if they’re determined. Not sure Ian built this place to withstand an assault. We’re kind of fucked down here, Sarge.”

  Ian? Were they implying that Ian had a hand in this? That made less sense than the rest of this. This place resembled a fallout shelter. Ian had been the farthest thing from a doomsday-prepper that you could think of.

  “Get your ass back here. We’re gone in ten.”

  Their conversation ended with a click, and Sonya blinked. The big man turned and leaned against the control panel, left leg kicked out and right crossed over at the ankle. He gripped the console loosely.

  Sonya’s mouth had suddenly gone dry. The man was sex on two legs. Broad shoulders seemed to fill her vision. Blonde hair, set in a short buzz cut, made her fingers itch to see if it was as soft as it appeared. The sun-kissed strands were long enough on top that he could style it a little, but still appear military and his eyes were the same blue that they all seemed to share. She almost lost her grip on the screwdriver. When he spoke, her knees would have gone weak if it wasn’t for the steely glare, directed at her. Taking three large steps, he crossed the room to stand within arm’s reach.

  Seeing his frown up close and personal killed any sexy thoughts. Not that it mattered. She doubted even a psycho military guy would be interested. This man was one of her kidnappers. He appeared to take his job very seriously.

  “Glad to see you’re awake, Doctor. I’m Cole Bennett. You’ve met Risa Dumont.”

  “Not Pixie?”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes.

  “Only Ditre and I are brave enough to call her that to her face,” he said, with a low chuckle. “This other one’s Soren. Ren for short.”

  He was almost the exact opposite of Cole with long dark hair and golden-brown skin, and almond-shaped eyes that slanted. Sonya would guess Japanese, but she’d always been bad at figuring out nationalities, so wouldn’t have been surprised if she was wrong. Ren had only turned long enough to nod and wink at Sonya before turning back to the monitors.

  “Sorry to rush ya, but we can’t stay here in case they are able to get into the Vault,” said Cole.

  “The Vault?” she said, trying to follow the conversation and not the motion of his lips. Who was ‘they’? Had help arrived and they were trying to get away? She couldn’t let that happen.

  “This is a bunker. Ian bought it and had it retrofitted not long after your accident. It was his insurance policy. He planned to store everything here, including his prototypes. Us. We call it the Va
ult. We have enough nonperishable supplies to last us a week or two.”

  “That’s—it’s not—” She couldn’t find the words. It just wasn’t possible. This man was saying that not only had Ian introduced a deadly, untested horde of machines into her body—all their bodies—but he’d also left her locked in a bunker with four strangers? If she was going to get out the time was now. She knew if they got her outside, she would be dead. “No!” She pulled her screwdriver up and aimed it at his face, widening her legs. Sonya knew nothing about how to defend herself. She’d never even thrown a punch in her life but fueled by desperation she was willing to learn fast. “Stay the hell away from me!”

  Instead of backing away from her, Cole took a menacing step in her direction. The pounding in her ears matched the same in her chest, making it hard to hear the yelling from the three people in the room. Risa had pulled her gun and held it leveled on her. Sonya’s breathing grew shallower. Distracted by the gun, she almost missed Cole lunging for her, but she slashed her makeshift weapon, moving faster than she ever thought possible.

  Cole howled, his hand holding his ruined face as blood poured through his fingers.

  Sonya was no stranger to blood, but something about the sight of his handsome face scarred for life because of her made her stomach turn. Her hand trembled, but she tightened her hold. “Just let me go. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Put it down,” said Soren.

  Cole had backed away, but Risa and Soren had filled the gap. They both pointed their guns and Sonya whimpered. Her grip on the screwdriver tightened until her fingers went numb.

  “No one wants to hurt you, Doc. We’re here to protect you,” said Soren, soothingly.

  “Really? With guns pointed at me!”

  “You attacked first,” said Risa, with deadly calm.

  “Back off!” Cole pushed through the two soldiers. “Put your fuckin’ guns away!” Blood smeared down the left side of his face. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. The wound closed itself, leaving only the slightest hint of a line.

  Her jaw dropped at the same time as the screwdriver.