by Deadly Game
Whitney’s eyebrow shot up. “I suppose we could both pretend you haven’t threatened to slit my throat the first chance you get and that the only reason you haven’t done it is because I’ve bought your cooperation by holding a gun to the head of the other women—your bored sister soldiers.”
Mari silently cursed her big mouth. She had threatened him on many occasions, meaning every single threat. Whitney wasn’t going to buy into her cooperation act. She tried another course. Mari looked down at her cuffed hands, trying to look chastised. Sean grunted in disbelief and she shot him a quick glare. “There’s one more thing you should know. I met Lily. I met your daughter. She saved my life.” She hastily looked up to catch the expression on his face.
There was a long silence. Whitney stood without moving or speaking, blinking down at her as if confused.
“Dr. Whitney?” Sean broke the silence. “Do you need a glass of water?”
Whitney shook his head. “Lily is brilliant. I’ve been so proud of her work lately. She’s a fast learner and very astute. Did she appear healthy?”
Mari nodded. “She looks very healthy and is obviously happy.”
“And pregnant. Why weren’t you going to tell me about her pregnancy?” Whitney bent down, sticking his face close to hers, eyes furious. He could get remarkably angry when someone thwarted his plans. And he was angry now.
“I didn’t have a chance. I didn’t know if you knew, and I wanted to break it to you gently. I know good breeding is important to you, and I was afraid …” She let her voice trail off and tried to look helpless and distressed. She just wasn’t good at this actress crap. She’d rather be boiled in oil than pretend concern and look girly-girl nervous.
Rose assured her that turning girl worked, though, and she was feeling on the edge of desperation. They told her the soldiers always fell for it, and Whitney would become so disgusted he’d walk away. The other women had actually made her practice looking tearful. They’d all laughed at her, and right now she wished she’d paid a lot more attention to their lessons. She really, really wanted Whitney to walk away right now.
“Did you see her husband?”
Mari nodded again. The one thing she’d learned about Whitney over the years was that he had poor social skills. He rarely bothered to read other people—certainly not enough to know if they were telling the truth or not. If she could say what he wanted to hear … She chose her words carefully. “Yes, he’s definitely a good soldier and psychically talented.” She kept her tone reluctant.
“But …” Whitney pressed.
“I doubt he’s her intellectual equal.”
“Do you think that matters?”
Whitney had never really asked her opinion before. It was a trick question; she could tell by his tone and the sharp look he was giving her.
“I have no idea.”
“Lily is unquestionably brilliant.”
“As I said, she saved my life. She has discovered that Zenith kills if it stays in our systems too long, but you must have known that.”
“Of course.”
“And the risks are acceptable because … ?”
“I don’t have to answer to you.”
“No, you don’t. But I figure they’re acceptable because the benefits outweigh the risks. Those of us who need anchors can perform without them being too close to us. If we’re wounded, we heal much faster, and if we’re captured, we don’t have time to give up information under torture.” She kept a straight face, simply reporting, not thinking about breaking his scrawny neck. She wanted to recite the reasons in front of Sean. Sean—who often ran missions and was shot full of the drug. Sean—who had turned on the very people who had been his family.
Sean met her gaze and looked away. Good. He was getting it—finally.
“You will be taken to the medical facility and examined there, Mari. In a few days we’ll test for pregnancy. I’ll send Norton’s file to you so you can read the data I’ve collected on him. I think you’ll see it’s a good match.”
Mari nodded, keeping her head down, afraid she wouldn’t be able to hide the relief she felt. The story was plausible, and Whitney was happy there was a chance she had conceived a child with Ken, so he wasn’t going to delve too much further. She waited until he was gone before looking up at Sean.
“Unlock the cuffs.”
“This isn’t over, Mari. You’re not having that man’s baby.”
“Better his than Brett’s.”
“I was taking care of Brett.” He reached for her hands and unlocked the cuffs.
She rubbed her bruised wrists and sent him another glare. “You didn’t have to put them on so tight.”
Sean took her hand in his, thumb sliding over the bruises. “Did Norton force you?”
She jerked her hand away. “You should have asked me that question hours ago. It’s too damn late to show concern now. Go to hell, Sean.” She stood up, had to grab the metal railing to keep from falling, and stood swaying, gritting her teeth against the ferocious pounding in her head. “Did you hit me again?”
“No way. I wasn’t about to give you an excuse to kill me. And I knew you’d wake up pissed.” He reached out and captured her hand again. “I did put those things on a little too tight. You’ve got bruises.”
She pulled her hand away again and rubbed her palm down the thigh of her jeans. “I’m really angry with you, Sean.”
“I know. You scared the hell out of everyone. Damn it, Mari, they shot you.”
“Everything is all mixed up. No one was there to assassinate Senator Freeman. Both teams were there to protect him. Could the threat have been a publicity stunt? And why would they send two GhostWalker special ops teams in to do the same job? There aren’t that many of us. They couldn’t just have made a mistake.”
She took a tentative step and the room lurched. “What the hell did you do to me, anyway, Sean?”
He steadied her by taking her arm. “I drugged you. It probably reacted with whatever was already in your system.”
“Well, that’s all right then.” She gave him her best sarcastic tone, wishing she had a knife to slit him from throat to belly. “I’m still really angry with you. You acted like a jerk. I should have let Norton shoot you.”
“You were really talking him out of killing me?”
“Yes. He doesn’t like you, but I told him you had a good side. When he asked what it was, I couldn’t remember. I need to go to my room before I go to the doc.”
“I’m supposed to take you straight to the medical wing.”
“Sean, don’t make me kick you. I need to stop off in my room. It will take two minutes. I can’t stand wearing these shoes a minute longer. In case you hadn’t noticed, they aren’t mine.”
“We swept you for tracking devices.”
“Did you sweep me for shoes hurting my feet and giving me blisters?”
“All right.” Sean glanced at his watch. “But we have to hurry. You know how Whitney is; he wants every minute accounted for.”
“You can tell him about the blisters on my feet. The first thing they teach a good soldier is to take care of his feet.” She pulled away from him. “I’m fine now—well, except for the headache. I’m not forgiving you for a long, long time, in case you’re interested.”
“I don’t know what got into me, Mari. When you started talking about having sex with Norton, I just lost my mind. I’m sorry I hit you.”
Mari kept her gaze straight ahead. Anger was alive and well and living just beneath the surface of her purposely calm expression. “You would have been a lot sorrier if I hadn’t retaliated. Apparently the Nortons aren’t very fond of men hitting women. He would have shot you right in the head.”
“You really are pissed at me, aren’t you?” Sean held the door open for her.
“You think? I was taken prisoner and they treated me better than you did. I’ve known you for years, Sean. I thought we were friends. You’ve turned into a jerk.” She sat on the edge of her cot and leaned do
wn to unlace the shoes.
“Yeah, they treated you so good you slept with one of them.” The edge was back in his voice.
Mari threw the shoe with deadly aim, hitting him square in the chest. “You don’t know the first thing about what happened to me, so shut up.” She turned her back on him, yanked her hair in frustration, and let out a hiss of anger. She brought one hand sliding down quickly to remove the braided gold chain from around her neck. The movement was fast, the chain bunching in her hand out of sight. “Do you see my slippers anywhere? I thought they were right here.”
She dropped down to look under the bed, shoving her hand beneath her mattress as she leaned her weight against the cot. “Do you see them?”
Sean yanked open the doors to her locker. Mari’s room was stark, not a thing out of place. He couldn’t imagine her slippers being under her bed. “I don’t see any slippers anywhere. Why don’t you grab a pair of socks if you don’t want to wear shoes?” He tossed her a pair.
Mari caught them and sank down onto the cot again. “How did all this happen, Sean? When did it all go to hell?”
“Just put the socks on.”
“If Brett comes back here, I swear one of us isn’t going to walk out of this room alive.” She paused, the sock hovering near her toes. Her gaze met Sean’s. “I mean it. I can’t let him touch me ever again. I hate it that much.”
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll find a way.”
“You’ve been saying that for weeks now. I’m not the only one being forced into something disgusting, Sean. We talked about this and you said you’d get Whitney to listen to you, but he didn’t. Would you honestly want to live this way?” She donned her socks and stood up, following him out the door.
“Is Brett the reason why you did it? Are you hoping Whitney will keep him away from you if you’re pregnant with Norton’s baby?” He led her down the hall to the elevator.
Mari shoved her fingers through her hair, betraying agitation. “I’m not accepting him. One way or the other, I’m not accepting him.”
“Whitney told me he doesn’t want the women to feel the same way over the men, because if the pairing doesn’t work—if for some reason she doesn’t get pregnant, or the baby isn’t what he’d hoped—then he can send another partner.”
She stiffened. “The baby isn’t what he hoped? What exactly does he plan to do with a baby that isn’t what he hoped?”
Sean frowned. “I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe adopt it out?”
“Adopt it out?” She dragged her feet, slowing as they made their way down the corridor toward the laboratory.
“Well come on, Mari, you can’t tell me you want to sit around with a crying kid hanging on you.”
“If it was my kid, yes. Is that what you’d want? Your child sent away?”
“I don’t know what I want. When Whitney talks about how genetic enhancement can save so many lives and if we just developed a group of soldiers with superior skills, so many young men and women would never have to lose their lives or have catastrophic injuries, it makes sense. I can go out and do what I’ve been trained to do and know that someone else, someone not nearly as skilled, might be killed—would probably be killed—if I wasn’t doing my job. Doesn’t it make sense to work toward finding a solution to war?”
“The babies are still our children, Sean,” she pointed out. “They aren’t robots; they deserve to have the same choice you as an adult have. They deserve the same rights other children have.”
Sean pulled open the door to the medical laboratory and waited for her to enter first. “If you could just hear him, Mari.”
“I have heard him. He raised me. He found me in an orphanage, and facilities and laboratories like this one have been my home since that day. I didn’t play like normal children; I didn’t even know there was a normal. Martial arts and shooting guns were normal to me. I’ve never been on a swing or gone down a slide, Sean. I was out in the field playing battle when I was six. I never had a holiday. No one tucked me in at night. Is that the kind of life you want for your son or daughter?”
Sean shook his head. “I’ll talk to him again.”
“It won’t do any good. You know it won’t. He’ll just present his ‘this is for the good of mankind’ argument, and no one can get around that. He doesn’t think with emotion, Sean. He discounts emotion altogether. When he pairs a couple, it’s just physical attraction. Or that’s what it seems to be. He doesn’t want to run the risk of emotion, because then the parents might care about each other as well as their child. What would happen when he decides to experiment on the child—or he doesn’t think the pairing was what he wanted after all and he wants to break the couple up?”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“No? I think you’re deluding yourself, and I don’t understand why. We had hundreds of discussions about this and you always agreed with the rest of us. What Whitney is doing is wrong, Sean.”
Mari looked around her at the cold stainless-steel counters, sinks, and gurneys. She hated this room. It was so cold, yet when they turned on the spotlights, it was glaringly hot. Surgical instruments lay like torture implements in neat little trays. She tore her gaze from the knives and forced herself to smile at the small, thin man waiting for her. “Dr. Prauder, I’m reporting for a checkup.”
“So I’ve heard. Whitney wants a full report on you.”
“I’m here to give you whatever you need,” she said, forcing a cheerful tone. Her stomach knotted up at the thought of what was coming. She didn’t look at Sean. He knew her well enough to know she detested the poking and prodding. Whitney even tried to extract memories. Everything, no matter how humiliating or private, was recorded.
She took the gown the doctor gave her and changed in the small alcove, counting in her head to control shivering. Ken, where are you? If she ever needed another human being to get her through something, now was the time. She didn’t want them to give her a morning-after pill. She didn’t want them touching her body or deciding she needed more shots or another tracking device.
She detested the lack of control, how vulnerable she felt when she was strapped down helplessly and the doctors were able to do whatever Whitney decided was her fate. Most of all she detested the sneaky, very personal way Prauder touched her when he was pretending to be impersonal. Whitney often came for the exams. He stood on the other side of the glass with that terrible little half smile staring at her as if she were a frog he was dissecting.
How far away were the Nortons and their team? Had they lost track of her? Had Sean managed to throw them off and now she was trapped here alone? And what if she was pregnant? Whitney would take her baby and she’d never see it—not if he knew it was Ken Norton’s. He’d looked too pleased, and it was rare for Whitney to be pleased.
“You ready, Mari?” Sean asked.
“In a minute.” She folded the shirt carefully, running her hand over the material in a small caress. It was stupid and girlie and made her want to choke, but she couldn’t stop herself. They’re going to examine me. Do you know what that entails? And while they examine me, they have a guard standing right there, watching the entire thing. And a camera records it and Whitney stands outside the glass staring in at me.
There was no reason to tell him. She was stoic about it—well, usually stoic about it. Sometimes she fought and the guards ended up with broken bones and black eyes, and then they sedated her. She suppressed another shiver and held the shirt to her face, inhaling Ken’s scent, hoping to keep it with her through the coming ordeal.
“What the hell is taking so long?” Sean demanded.
“I was shot, you moron. My leg was broken. Although it’s mostly healed, it’s still sore, so I’m being a little wimpy taking the jeans off. Do you have a date? Am I holding you up from some important appointment, because honestly, Sean, I don’t mind if you want to postpone this little event.”
Sean muttered an obscenity she pretended not to catch. She took a deep breath and let it out before s
tepping out of the jeans. Just once, one time in her life, she wanted support. It was stupid. Her entire education was about self-reliance and discipline. It was about facing pain and the impossible task and completing the mission no matter what the personal cost might be.
She’d had a small taste of freedom, ironically as a prisoner, and it was much more difficult to face the starkness of her life. Reluctantly, Mari placed Ken’s shirt on the chair and wrapped herself in the gown.
She made a face at Sean as she climbed onto the table. She hated this. Hated it. Whitney knew it too. She’d tried various ways to distract herself over the years, pleaded for music, tried a running dialogue—nothing worked. She was the insect, pinned to the table, strapped down and stripped naked, to be examined and dissected just like the frogs and other animals and reptiles in biology classes.
The light clicked on, bright and hot and shining over her body. They were going to see every mark Ken had left behind. They would photograph and record and turn her one beautiful memory into something ugly and depraved.
She sat up before the doctor could strap her down. “I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry, Sean, I can’t.”
“Don’t go crazy on me, Mari,” Sean said, holding up his hand.
The doctor backed away from her, glancing toward the glass. She followed his gaze to see Whitney standing there watching with his dead eyes.
Mari slid off the table and went to the window. “I can’t. I can’t do this right now. I can’t tell you why, I don’t know why; I just can’t make myself do it.”
“I’m extremely disappointed in you, Mari,” Whitney said through the intercom. “You left this facility without permission and I didn’t even punish you. This examination is necessary. You’ve had them hundreds of times and there’s no reason for you to be upset about it. Get back on the table.”
“My body belongs to me. I don’t want to share it with science.”