Skin Tight

by Ava Gray

  Next, he sent a worm that would gobble up any traces of the security chief’s message. The other man would open it, knowing it would purge his system but not harm his files. They’d perfected the process over the years.

  This mess tidied to his satisfaction, Rowan was able to return to his real work. There was only one person he could trust to carry out his instructions, so he e-mailed the security chief once more. If financial incentive is required to secure the donation, offer it, he concluded. His man would filter the matter through the lab director, providing layers of screen.

  Satisfied he’d done everything possible to prevent the loss of I-53, he focused on his next concern. T-89 was spending too much time with Gillie. If Rowan didn’t need the subject, he’d dispose of him. Unfortunately, he was the first real success, and Rowan couldn’t afford to lose him. Yet.

  Once he documented the case fully and had digital recordings of all applications of T-89’s power, then he could get rid of him. The subject was too volatile ever to release, and too expensive to keep long term. T-89 required too much medication and too much food to make him a viable permanent part of Rowan’s ultimate plan.

  Unlike Gillie. She was a pleasure to work with. That jogged his memory, so he checked the time. Ah, she should be awake. He knew she looked forward to his morning visits, just before he went off shift. Rowan put aside his research, checked his reflection in the mirror above the lab sink, and went in search of Gillie.

  She answered the door on the first knock, proving her eagerness. Rowan let himself soak in the sight of her. Each time, her beauty struck him anew, from her slight, delicate figure to her tousled red gold curls. Her skin was pale as cream, her eyes a sparkling blue, and her nose had an impish tilt. Classic Irish loveliness, Rowan thought.

  He greeted her with a smile. “Is that breakfast I smell?” Bobbing her head, she stepped back so he could enter. The table was set with French toast and a dish of scrambled eggs, enough for two. “Are you sure you’re not a mind reader, too?”

  Her brow crinkled. “God, I hope not. Why?”

  Charming.

  “You seem to have anticipated my arrival.”

  “Ah. Yes.” She added another plate to the table.

  He sat down and let her serve him. Gillie obviously enjoyed the chance to show her affection in small ways, though a deeper liaison was out of the question. For now. A small tub of butter joined the syrup; she added forks and then sat down across from him.

  Her hands trembled a little as she reached for the dish of eggs. Rowan smiled; he found it quite flattering that he could affect her like this, make her all shy and fluttery. Warmth swelled within him.

  For a while, there was only the clink of silver against plates. She was quite a good cook, though her French toast had too much cinnamon. He decided against commenting. After all, criticism from him would crush her.

  At length he asked, gentle and sympathetic, “How are you getting on with T-89? He hasn’t inconvenienced you? I had no choice but to permit his visits. I’m sorry, Gillie.”

  “It’s all right. I don’t mind.” She sounded subdued, as well she might, discussing that animal. But she was a saint, making such sacrifices for his work.

  Rowan dared to be candid this once. “I promise, all of this will be worth it someday. I’m going to take you away from here when I’ve finished. Things will be different.”

  “Really,” she said quietly.

  He couldn’t blame her for doubting her good fortune. “Yes. Amid all my other research, I’m working on synthesizing a compound that will mimic what your blood does. Once that’s possible, we can cure any disease known to man. Imagine it, Gillie: a universal medicine, all because of you. You’ll be lauded all over the world.” He smiled at her. “And so will I. Together, we can do anything.”

  “I hardly know what to say. I can’t believe my luck.”

  That was what he loved best about her. She wasn’t exuberant even during her greatest joys. Gillie understood the value of decorum; she was a lady down to the tips of her toes. She didn’t curse, and she never raised her voice. A woman like that made a man better, stronger; she knew her place and she did her best to help him shine.

  “Understandable. Just know you have my abject apologies for subjecting you to that cretin. I will not allow it to go on any longer than it must.”

  “It’s all right,” she said, eating some eggs before adding, “I can bear anything.”

  Rowan heard the unspoken subtext: She can bear anything, as long as she has the promise of a future with me. His heart swelled. Overcome by emotion, he plucked her left hand from where it rested on the table’s edge and sealed a kiss into her palm.

  “You are an angel,” he murmured huskily.

  She inhaled sharply and tugged away, curling her fingers as if to save the sensation. Her subtlety aroused him. Gillie wasn’t playing the coy virgin; she was innocence personified. When he made love to her for the first time, she would never have known a man’s mouth on hers.

  He finished his breakfast in silence while she ate almost nothing, another sign of her elegance. “Thank you. That was wonderful.”

  Gillie nodded and started clearing the table, the model of demure femininity.

  “Well, I’m off for the day. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  Again, she didn’t trust herself to speak, so she contented herself with a wave. It was probably hard for her to see him leave. Rowan realized he must present an unbearable temptation, which only reinforced his good opinion of her. He would respect her less if she clung and cried and begged him not to leave her. She was a woman of indomitable strength and impeccable refinement.

  He went contented to his rest.

  Taye stepped out of the bathroom. “Christ almighty, I thought he’d never leave.”

  Gillie slumped, bowing her head over the sink. “You can’t keep sneaking around like this. They’ll kill you if they catch you.”

  “If. Don’t worry about me.” He offered a cocky grin.

  “I have to. You’re the only friend I have.”

  “C’mon, sweetheart. You have to admit, you like the adrenaline. You kept Tightass happy by feeding him my breakfast, and then sent him on his way thinking you can’t wait to run off with him. That’s genius.”

  Her lips curved into a half smile, despite the fear-induced nausea. “It was kind of funny listening to him talk about you, knowing you could hear every word. Do they know you can leave magnetic impressions on digital recordings?”

  Taye shook his head, sitting down at the table. “No, and they won’t until it’s too late, either.”

  “So they don’t realize you’re manipulating all the cameras down here.” She cracked some more eggs, scrambling them deftly in the skillet. “Or that you have a third power.”

  “That’s me.” Bitterness tainted his voice. “The biggest freak in the sideshow.”

  Gillie aimed her spatula at him. “At least you’re not the freak who laid the golden egg, nor does the chief torturer want to bang you silly.”

  He widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Your language is appalling.”

  “There’s something seriously wrong with Rowan.”

  “Ya think?”

  “I mean it. He doesn’t want a real woman. He wants one that doesn’t argue, doesn’t eat, doesn’t have bodily functions . . . just lives to gratify him.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty pathological. If he wasn’t down here torturing us lab rats, he’d be on the streets cutting people into bite-sized pieces.”

  “Thing is, this is familiar to me.” Gillie gestured, and he came into the kitchen to serve himself. “There was a serial killer . . . I saw something when I was a kid. I’d only just arrived here. He killed because he was trying to create a lobotomized sex slave.”

  “Dahmer,” Taye supplied. “You think Rowan is like him?”

  “I think they share certain fantasies. I doubt he could perform with a woman he didn’t perceive as completely submissive.”

>   He arched a brow. “Should I be worried that you know this stuff?”

  “You wouldn’t believe what comes on late-night TV.”

  “And you watch it because you don’t like sleeping at night.”

  A shudder rolled through her. “No. I don’t want him coming in on me while I’m unaware.”

  “No wonder he scares you,” he said quietly. “If he figures out you’re not who you pretend to be—”

  “It won’t be pretty. But I’ve done what I must to survive.”

  “If his obsession with you ever reaches the next level, he’ll come to your bed.”

  Gillie propped her elbows on the table. “I know.”

  “And what will you do?” There was a peculiar tension in him now.

  “I’ll lie there with doe eyes and take it. I want to see the sun again, Taye. Maybe you’d rather I play the medieval maiden and say I’ll die rather than let him sully my body, but he can’t touch me where it matters. I can put up with anything, as long as it means my freedom in the long run. And once I have it, I’ll never let anyone take it from me again.”

  “Relax, I’m not judging you. I think you’re incredibly strong.” He dug into his breakfast, probably starving from the time he’d spent hiding in her bathroom.

  She dipped her chin. “Are you being funny?”

  “Not at all. Not all strength comes from brute force. Ever heard of the power of passive resistance? Gandhi?”

  “I hardly think that comparison is appropriate.”

  “Look, Gillie, I insisted on these visits because I wanted to stick it to Rowan. I knew it would get into his craw and chafe. But in the past few weeks, I’ve come to respect you. Not everyone could adapt and thrive as you have. You’re a rare person.” He cut a square of French toast and looked away. “You give me someone besides myself to think about, someone to fight for. I’m not sure what kind of person I was before Rowan worked on me that second time—and from certain fragments of memory, I don’t think I want to know—but I’m not that guy anymore. I could be better, if I only had the chance.”

  His intensity moved her. Gillie reached out and covered his hand with her own. “We’re both getting second chances, and we won’t waste them.”

  Taye threaded his fingers through hers. They were both pale, but his hand was a good deal larger. Ordinarily, it amused Gillie that he could tweak the cameras to show her sitting alone at the kitchen table, lulling all of Rowan’s suspicions. Now she had the thought that he could do more than hold her hand.

  Unlike with Rowan, the contact didn’t give her the creeps. Taye felt warmer than a normal human, as if his gifts fevered him. But his eyes didn’t reflect a febrile glitter. Instead, they were the calm, cool green of tropical waters. She’d seen them many times on cruise line commercials.

  “What?” he asked. “Do I have food on my face?”

  With his free hand, he wiped his mouth with a napkin as Gillie shook her head. “I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you. Before, I only had inchoate dreams. Now we have plans.”

  Taye inclined his head and withdrew his hand, leaving her faintly disappointed. “Speaking of which, we need to use our time wisely.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. Your ability isn’t foolproof.” Using electricity, he could manipulate the locks on the cell doors, and not long ago, he’d managed to get himself free. But he wasn’t sure enough of himself to risk their one chance at escape . . . yet. So Taye came to her in these practice runs, bright with the pleasure of sticking it to their captor. Silas knew, of course, but he had his own reasons to hate Rowan. The doctor could compel his obedience but not cooperation; the two differed vastly.

  “Nor do I have it wholly under control.” For the first time, his voice reflected a touch of strain, and she realized belatedly that the whole time they’d been talking, he had to concentrate on the cameras. It was a wonder he could communicate at all.

  “God, I’m so stupid. Show me walking to the bathroom.”

  Taye grasped her intent at once and followed her. Gillie made a habit of checking the toilet for audio bugs, and there was no place to hide a camera. The room was small, but they squeezed in. She helped matters along by stepping into the shower stall. That gave him the space to flip down the toilet lid and take a seat.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Now I can focus on you fully.”

  Gillie put her back to the wall and slid into a seated position. The tingles his words created—however he’d meant them—signaled sexual attraction. It wasn’t unexpected; he was the only viable potential mate in her social sphere. She had to ignore the feelings, regardless of how intriguing and new they were.

  “Good. Now, last time, we established the timeline. You’ve been laying the groundwork with the cameras. How long before we’re ready to go?”

  “Another week at least,” he answered. “Possibly two. I’m still working on control. I won’t hurt you when I blow the equipment, and right now I’m not good enough with overload to guarantee your safety.”

  “So you keep practicing. What’s my role?”

  His mouth twisted. “I need you to keep Rowan distracted. I hate asking you, but—”

  “I don’t mind. I’ve been playing to him for years. I can handle another week or two. I just hope I get to show him how wrong he was about me before the end.” Gillie smiled with fierce anticipation.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if comes to a choice between making sure he’s dead and getting out of here, we have to choose the latter.”

  “I understand. Freedom is more important than revenge. You can count on me.”

  “I’m aware. You have the heart of a lion, Gillie Flynn.”

  She didn’t deny it. A lesser soul would’ve broken in the crucible of her life, but hardship had steeled her determination for things not to end here. The world awaited her, and she would do wondrous things.

  “Thanks. But you, you give me something I sorely needed.”

  “What’s that?” He should have looked absurd, reclining on her toilet. Instead he turned it into a throne. There was a faint, almost perceptible aura of power about him as if through the cruelty of a madman, he had transcended the human condition.

  “Faith. For all my dreaming, I don’t know that I could’ve gotten out of here alone.”

  At least, not without yielding to Rowan, becoming his creature completely in the hope of once more living in the light. Sickness coiled through her, and she put trembling fingers to her face. She didn’t realize he’d moved until he brushed her hair back.

  Gillie didn’t recoil. He crouched before her on the bathroom floor, all concern. You’d never know he could turn an electrical device into chain lightning by looking at him. His tenderness threatened to undo her completely.

  “What’s the matter? I’m sorry. I don’t remember how to deal with people. Did I do something wrong?”

  “No,” she whispered. “You do everything right. You’re the only thing that’s right.”

  And then she kissed him.

  CHAPTER 18

  After a series of e-mails, Mia and Kelly decided to hang out. The other woman said there wasn’t much local color, even on Saturday, but they could both use a break. It would do Mia good to spend a night with a girlfriend, just uncomplicated fun. That might even allow her to forget about the puzzling man who drew her so fiercely against her will. For a little while, anyway. It would probably be better if she could put him out of her mind entirely, but that wasn’t likely to happen.

  Making plans with Kelly distracted Mia from the progress she wasn’t making at Micor . . . and a man who could break her heart. Søren still hadn’t called after their failed spy mission, so maybe he’d decided she had nothing more to offer him. If she wanted to play the scorned woman, she could make life difficult for him, but she couldn’t summon the desire. Each time she thought of him, she saw his little girl. It was hard to sustain any outrage when she knew how much he’d suffered already.

  Mia hopped from her rental and strode
up the gravel walk. The porch creaked as she walked across it. Though she respected Kelly’s dream of restoration, she couldn’t share the enthusiasm. Mia thought houses built before 1900 were creepy, as if they’d soaked up too much energy over the years. As far as old things went, she liked antique furniture, but she wanted a new house to put it in.

  The property seemed more than usually quiet, no signs of life from within. Though it was twilight, the bruised sky darkening from blue to purple, no lights shone from any of the windows. No music played. No TV. A chill crawled down her spine.

  She knocked. “Kelly?”

  Maybe there was a good reason for the other woman not to be here. She went shopping and lost track of time? I’m three minutes early.

  Deep down, she knew that wasn’t it. Mustering her nerve, she tried the doorknob. It turned. The chill turned into an icy deluge. This was so not right. Gulping a breath, she nudged the door open slightly and saw that the runner in the hallway was rumpled, and a lamp lay smashed at the foot of the stairs. Mia turned and sprinted for her car, got in, and locked the doors. With shaking hands, she got out her cell phone and dialed 911.

  “Nine one one, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

  “I’m at my friend’s house. I was supposed to meet her here, but the lights are off, and the door’s unlocked, and there are signs of a struggle.”

  “What’s the address, please?”

  Mia gave it.

  “Did you go in, ma’am? Do you suspect the intruder may still be in the house?”

  “No. I went back to my car. I’m on my cell phone.”

  “Yes, I can see that. I’ll have an officer on scene soon. There’s a deputy patrolling nearby. Don’t get out of your car until he arrives. If you feel you might be in danger, wait down the road for him.”

  “Okay.” Mia clenched her free hand in her lap, watching the house. If she saw so much as a shadow, she was out of here.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?”