by Charlie Hart
“Everything will be fine,” I say, not sure who I’m trying to convince more, him or me. “Our scientists are working night and day for a solution. I should know, I have one living under my roof.”
“It was scientists that got us in this mess in the first place. If they hadn’t messed with the natural order of things-”
“I know. But look at our birth rates. They’re better than anywhere else in the world. We’re making progress. Within the compound, we’ve had more female babies born this past year than the year before. That’s saying something.”
He gives a hard laugh, one that holds no humor. “And more maternal deaths. That’s the part they leave out. I’ve read the reports.”
That was the crux of the matter. It wasn’t just infant mortality that mattered, but the health of the mother as well. It was one of the reasons many women stopped trying to conceive. Until it became against the law to use any type of birth control.
Still, women were having a more difficult time conceiving. Some blamed toxins in the water, others pollution, some the after effects of birth control pills. Whatever the cause, one thing was certain, close to eighty percent of the time a woman conceived a female child, it was a death sentence to either the mother or the child, and sometimes both.
And no one knew why. Not really.
The change happened so quickly, spreading like an uncontainable virus that even the brightest minds in the world couldn’t understand.
The odds of Tia conceiving are low to begin with, and the odds of a female embryo surviving past the first six weeks in utero even lower. But the fear is still there.
I need to talk with Banks. Really understand the risks. I know he’s part of the team of researchers working on a cure.
But how the hell do you find a cure for something that you don’t understand?
“If we don’t keep trying, keep fighting, keep believing in a better tomorrow, then what happens when no one is left to give the vulnerable and weak a voice? A hand. A fucking flight out of the wilderness.”
Dad presses a fist to his mouth, holding something back. And I realize, my stoic father is suppressing a sob.
He shakes his head, tears in his eyes. “Maybe my son is just a better man than me.”
“Maybe you’ve just seen more than I have, Dad.”
He rests his hands on my shoulders. “I’ve never met your wife, and there’s a reason I won’t. I’m done getting attached to people only to watch them die.”
“Hypatia won’t die.” I’ll make sure of it. Do everything in my fucking power to keep that from happening.
“I hear you, son. But I worry you’ll die in order to keep her safe.”
“I will if I have to.”
Chapter 19
Tia
The men are gone again at work. All except Banks, who’s locked himself in the study with his laptop and books.
I pace the living room needing something to do.
Anything but cook.
Two failed attempts at making a pot roast, and Emerson has officially banned me from the kitchen. Not that I mind. It’s not something that I enjoy.
What I enjoy is reading. But I’ve already read through the dozen old romance paperbacks that Huxley got for me. Pure smut, but they were full of useful ideas that I hadn’t thought of. I thought the ménage in the hot tub was sexy, but it turns out a threesome is just dipping my toe in the pool of possibility.
Alone in the house for so many hours a day, I find myself in my bedroom, with the bullet vibrator Hux gifted me with on one of the first days I was home. Passages from the novels run through my head as I spread my knees and explore my body with a battery-operated husband.
I want one of them to taste me as I taste him. I want to press my breasts between a cock, until my husband comes on my skin. I want to make love in the shower, in the woods, on the kitchen table. I want more too …. I want all of them, at once..
Maybe one day.
And while I’d love to try out my fantasies with my husbands, I don’t feel quite that adventurous yet. I still haven’t been with all of them, though I’m growing more anxious by the day. So for now, I entertain myself with … well, myself.
The romance novels are useful for sparking my sexual appetite, but what I’d really like to get my hands on are Banks’ textbooks. I miss learning. Taking a problem and trying to fix it. And from the few notes that I’ve glanced at, Banks is working on the biggest problem of all. Our population crisis.
I know the research well. It’s my father’s life work.
He’d been on the verge of a huge discovery the last time I saw him. One that he swore would fix everything. I’d been a part of it and I believed he saw me as more than just a baby-maker.
I was wrong.
A small shiver races down my neck when I think of our last encounter, of the things he would do to me if he ever found out where I am.
You’re safe, my brain reminds me, despite the anxiety that leaves my throat constricted.
I jump when the phone rings loudly on the table next to me.
The men all have cell phones, and it’s the first time it’s rung since we’ve been here.
I frown, a sense of foreboding pressing against my skull as I answer it. “Hello?”
“You are alive,” Kate says exuberantly, then laughs on the other end of the line. “I was beginning to wonder. Haven’t seen you around lately.”
“I’ve been...busy,” I lie, not wanting to admit that Fallon has pretty much grounded me to this house.
“I’m sure you have,” she says, her tone full of suggestion. “So I guess things have gotten better since we last talked?”
“Yes,” I admit with a smile.
She chuckles. “Good. I’m glad. But I was wondering if you could come over to my place? There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
I could ask Banks if he’d take me there, but I know he’d be pissy if I pulled him away from his books.
“Maybe on the weekend-”
“It’s kind of important,” she says, her voice more serious now. “And I’d rather not say over the phone.”
I hear her unspoken message: Because you don’t know who’s listening.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I say, before hanging up, my anxiety back in full force.
Shit. Whatever she wants to tell me can’t be good.
I knock on the door of the study before entering.
Sitting in one of the leather armchairs, Banks barely looks up at me, just keeps typing something frantically into his laptop.
“What are you doing?” I ask, coming up behind him, seeing his key card on the table beside him.
Don’t even think about it, my brain warns. You already got in trouble for that once.
“Working,” he mumbles, pausing to look up at me, something akin to desire mixed with suspicion in his dark eyes.
“I was wondering if you...” I pull my bottom lip between my teeth.
“If I what?” I see his pupils dilate, his nostrils flare, and I know what he thinks I’ve come in here to ask of him.
And as much as I would love to finally break through Banks’ hard walls, I really need to talk to Kate.
“Would like to go for a walk?” I ask quickly.
He grunts, then glances back at his laptop. “I’m busy.”
“Right.” I sit on the edge of the chair and let my eyes wander over his screen. “You’re looking at chromosomes nine and one?”
He narrows his gaze on me. “Yes.”
Hold your tongue, Tia.
I don’t. Because I miss this. Science. Discovery. “I thought the abnormality was found on twenty-two.”
“New research suggests that there’s more than one mutation, which is why none of our previous attempts have worked.”
“Oh.” I would know that if I was where I should be, in a lab, working on a cure.
Instead, I’m stuck cleaning toilets and pacing an empty house most days.
Your choice, I remind
myself. My life would have been the same. Worse. If I’d stayed where I was. There would have been no choice.
Just Lawson.
“You said you got your Master’s degree.” He’s studying me, dark eyes hard, searching. “What school did you go to?”
Shit.
“CSU,” I lie, which is a bad one, because as soon as it’s out of my mouth I remember that the school stopped accepting women over a decade ago. Most of them did. Except in Canada. Why the hell didn’t I say University of British Columbia? At least that would have been somewhat believable.
If Banks knows it, he doesn’t say anything, just turns back to his laptop with a small click of his tongue his only response. He starts typing again.
The key card is inches away from my hand, taunting me to take it. What would it hurt? He’ll be holed up in this room for hours, and I’ll be back before any of the others return.
And I need to know what Kate has to say. Maybe it’s nothing. But even as I think it, I know the truth. Something is wrong. And I have no doubt it has everything to do with me.
“Okay. I guess I’ll just entertain myself,” I say, slipping the key card off the table and into my back pocket.
“Is it entertainment you’re after?” Banks says, some hidden meaning in his words. I can’t read his expressions yet.
“Maybe.” I bite my lip again, feeling exposed under his gaze. It’s darker than the others. Not just his eye color, but the way he studies me, watches me like a predator waiting to consume his prey. And then the next second his attention is diverted back to his work.
I shouldn’t press it, but I do. “You don’t seem too intent on entertaining me, so I guess it’s up to the other men.”
His movement is so quick, I barely realize what he’s doing, until my back is up against the wall, and my hands are pinned over my head, Banks’ lips inches from mine.
“I’m not sure you’re ready for my form of entertainment, Tia.” His breath is warm and rough against my mouth, the heavy length of his arousal digging into my hip.
I let out a little whimper. “How...how do you know what I’m ready for?”
His nostrils flare, and I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead, he laces my wrists with one large hand, while his other rakes down my body, cupping a breast, and squeezing my nipple.
The look in his eyes is primal. Dark. Intoxicating.
A mix of pleasure and pain races through my body, going straight to my core, and a small wave of fear goes through me, because he’s right, I’m not sure I could handle what he wants.
“I...”
He makes a sound in the back of his throat and releases me. “I’m a patient man.”
My breath comes out shaky, and I’m left trembling as I watch him walk back to his chair and pick up his laptop again.
I reach for the door handle.
“Oh, and Tia.”
“Yes.” I glance over my shoulder, but his gaze is back on the screen in front of him.
“If you want to borrow my key card. Just ask next time.”
“Oh.”
He gives me a pointed stare, before starting to type again.
Like a reprimanded child I leave the room, feeling for the card in my back pocket. It’s still there. He’d given me permission to use it.
Still feeling slightly disoriented, and not sure what just transpired between us, I put my coat and boots on and quickly make my way outside, doubling my pace when I see one of the government cars coming towards me. But it doesn’t stop, just slows down slightly, as the driver glances over at me.
It’s not against the law for me to be outside by myself. So why do I feel like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar?
Kate hugs me when I’m finally inside her home. She wears an apron, and the house smells delicious--she tells me she’s making a roast chicken with mashed potatoes for dinner. And lemon meringue pie for dessert.
My ineptitude in the home engulfs me as she leads me inside. The compound sparkles, sink empty, counters clean, and there are fresh-from-the-oven chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen counter. Is she kidding me with this? I try to push my feelings of inferiority aside. I don’t need to be just like Kate to be a good wife.
“All the men are at work,” she tells me.
“You have a key card to open the door?” I frown at her.
“Peter left his in case I wanted some fresh air.” She takes my hand and winks. “Or have one of my favorite girls over.”
“Oh,” I say, wishing Fallon would trust me that much.
“I’m glad you came.”
“It sounded important.”
She wrings her hands together, “It may be nothing. But...”
“Just tell me.”
She motions me to follow her into the study. It’s sparser than ours, no books anywhere, but they have a large television set.
I watch as Kate pulls out a folded piece of paper from one of the drawers, and then hands it to me.
“One of my husbands, Dean, works in Intelligence. I saw this in some files that he brought home last night. I thought...Well, just look.”
Slowly, my stomach in my throat, I unfold the page, and suck in a breath when I glance at the black and white picture that was taken during my sophomore year at Saint Augustine’s. The photo is old and slightly faded, my hair cut in an unflattering bob, with chunky bangs hanging just above the thick-rimmed glasses I’d worn until I had laser surgery on my eyes.
Bolded letters at the top of the page read MISSING, along with a detailed description: My real name, age, height, and even approximate weight. A substantial reward is also listed.
I let out a shuddering breath.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Kate asks, concern straining her words.
I nod, knowing I can trust her. We both ran away from our pasts. Only mine seems to have followed me here.
“Did you tell Dean it was me?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “Of course not. But if the wrong pairs of eyes get on it...” A small sigh escapes her lips. “We’re safe here. Even if whomever is looking for you finds you, they can’t take you away. Right? You’re married now.”
I wish she was right. But she doesn’t understand the power my father and ex-fiancé yield. If they know I’m here, then it’s only a matter of time before they send someone to bring me home.
No matter the cost.
Fear ices through me. Because Kate’s right. I am married. Which is a complication Lawson won’t let stand in his way.
His words echo in my head, “You belong to me. Never forget that, Christina.”
“Tia?” Kate says now, touching my arm. “I’m sorry to upset you. I just thought you should know.”
“Thank you.” I give her a weak smile, and tuck the paper in my jacket pocket.
Concern for my men now my only thought. I never imagined I’d fall so quickly for each of them, that I’d worry about them. But I do. Because my father and Lawson will stop at nothing to get me back. And I know my men will stop at nothing to protect me.
Even if it means sacrificing their lives.
Tears burn the back of my eyes.
It was stupid and foolish to come to this place. To put others at risk, just so I could have the chance to be free.
“I should go.”
Kate nods, then gives me a concerned smile. “It’ll be all right.”
I don’t know if it will be, but I don’t get the chance to say it, because the second I open the door, I’m met with two piercing blue eyes that look ready to murder me. And I realize that I may not have to worry about my father and Lawson. He must have jumped the fence to get to the front door. Or broken the security system. Neither of which I’d put past him.
“Fallon-”
“Don’t,” he growls out. “Let’s go,” he says to Kate. “Open the gate.”
She gives a small nod, and then shuts the door.
“You don’t have to be rude to her. She didn’t-”
“Just get in the
truck, Tia,” he says when the gates swing open, and I see his still idling vehicle, front door wide open.
I want to cross my arms, refuse to listen, but then I think about the danger I’ve put all my men in by coming here under false pretenses, by allowing them to believe I’m someone I’m not. Theirs.
Legally, I already belong to someone else.
Lawson and I may not have exchanged wedding vows, but he was my betrothed, and in the lower forty-eight that means I had no choice.
I wanted freedom, but that’s the problem. I came here looking for something that doesn’t exist anymore. Not really.
My father will find me. It’s only a matter of time.
“Hypatia, now,” Fallon says, taking my hand and guiding me to his truck. Without any niceties, without pausing to see the tears welling up in my eyes, he doesn’t ask why I left again, and I’m glad. Because how would I even begin to answer?
I may be his wife, but before that I was someone’s daughter.
And in the world outside of Alaska, fathers don’t let their daughters leave home without a payment.
My father never received his. And I have no doubt he’s coming for it. It just won’t be money he’ll be after, it’ll be blood.
Chapter 20
Fallon
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Tia says, wiping the tears from her eyes as I peel out of Kate’s driveway and head back to our place.
I don’t trust myself to speak. My fury knows no bounds. She left. Again. After she promised me she wouldn’t.
We pull up to the house and I slam the truck door shut. I storm towards the house, but turn when I realize Hypatia isn’t following me. Dammit, is this woman so hell-bent on refusing to heed every one of my warnings?
“Just say something, Fallon.” Her voice is small and scared. I turn to face her but she’s still standing next to the truck.
I pulled her from Kate’s house before she could grab her parka and now she stands out here, the snow starting to fall, the dark afternoon covering the moment with a thick blanket. It’s heavy--her choices and my anger and the state of the goddamn world.
Would I care that the outlook is so grim if I weren’t married? If I wasn’t responsible for another person?