"You could give me a transfusion. We're compatible." A ripple of a shudder went through his body, but didn't show on his face.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "How would you know that? I didn't tell you my blood type. You don't know the first thing about me."
"I know you're not Cajun and you didn't grow up around here." He closed his eyes. "I'm damned tired. What's your real name?"
"Why would I want to tell you?"
He opened his eyes again and pinned her with his amber stare. He had beautiful eyes and she tried not to notice, just like she was trying not to notice he was in pain but not acknowledging it.
"Seriously? I heard you talking and walked across the square to catch a glimpse of you. Never in my life have I done something like that. I told my friend to find out about you so I wouldn't lose you if you decided to up and leave before I was back from the field. I've never done that either. Tell me your name."
She liked that he'd done those things for her. She didn't like his tone. She'd just saved his life and he wasn't acting grateful in the least. His eyes didn't blink. Not once. He just stared at her until she wanted to give him whatever he asked for. She made a face at him. "Bellisia. My name is Bellisia. Sometimes I'm called Belle or Bella." She hadn't really lied to him. "I told you the truth when we met."
"How is that associated with a flower?"
She frowned. "That's a weird question. It's from the family of Bellis."
"Belladonna?"
She felt color begin to sweep up her neck to her face. She was poisonous, but not from any flower. "No. That's a different flower. Are you feeling up to walking to the boat? I have to get you back."
"I need a transfusion."
"No, you don't. You just need to drink some water and give yourself a few minutes to recover so we can leave." She detested needles. If she gave him a transfusion, she would be too sick to get him back to his people.
"I'm a doctor, I know when I need a transfusion."
"I'm not giving you one. Drink water. The faster I get you back to your people, the better off we're all going to be."
He was very pale, she had to admit. He looked exhausted.
"I'm not trained for that sort of thing," she said. "I wouldn't even be able to find a vein."
"I would."
She swore under her breath and pushed the medical kit at him. "I don't know why I found you attractive. You're kind of a bully." But he wasn't. He was so good with the little girls. All three of them adored him. She had watched him for hours, even watched him rock one of them to sleep on the front porch with Nonny and the triplets' mother, Pepper.
He really was weak, she realized, watching him dig through the large first aid kit Donny kept in most of his camps. He was weak and in pain. She took the kit and found what he needed and handed the needles and the long tubes to him.
"Come closer."
He mesmerized with his voice. She'd noticed that before when she listened to him tell the girls stories. She could listen to his voice forever, and there was a compulsion to do anything he asked.
Bellisia scooted as close as she dared. She felt like she was within the striking distance of a tiger. Her thigh rubbed against his and she flinched. Panic was beginning to rise, but she curbed it. She'd been in tight places before and she'd always managed to handle the situation. It was just that it was . . . him. Anyone else she'd be impersonal with, but it was impossible for her not to look at him and be aware of every tiny detail about him.
She felt the bite of a needle and looked away, bile rising fast. She hated needles. All those times when Whitney had studied her as if she wasn't human. Wasn't a person. He treated her like an insect pinned to a mat. She had sworn to herself she would never be a prisoner again. Never have anyone telling her what to do or sticking needles in her. Worse, it hurt, the needle passing through the rows of double muscles, lighting up nerve endings until the pain was excruciating. Whitney had declared that a flaw and had forced her to endure the bite of needles over and over in the hopes of curing her.
"Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"
Ezekiel's voice was low and soothing. He actually sounded genuinely worried for her. She turned her head to look at him. He was beautiful. Not in the traditional sense of the word, he was too tough-looking for that, too much of a man. There wasn't anything soft about him, but he was gorgeous. His eyes. His hair. The shape of his jaw. His mouth. She had fixated on his mouth more than once. Even his eyelashes, and she hadn't even started on his body.
"Bellisia. Talk to me. Is this hurting you?"
She wanted to scream that it was. That he shouldn't talk to her in that soft, low voice, the one she was certain belonged to a fallen angel. The one that made her soft inside. The one that made her long for things she couldn't have. She shook her head, fighting the nausea. "I have a thing about needles."
"I'm sorry. I wouldn't do this if it wasn't necessary."
"How do you know your blood type and mine match?"
"You really don't know?"
She knew, but how would he know? She shook her head. He hadn't blinked. Those gorgeous eyes were suddenly reminding her of a predator's.
"Whitney always makes certain the men and women he pairs together have compatible blood types so they can work together more efficiently in the field."
Her heart stilled and then began to pound. Of course Whitney did that. He was God in his mind. He wanted to choose who would give him his supersoldier children. Now she really just might throw up.
"Breathe." His hand came up to the nape of her neck and pushed her head down. "Take a breath. I don't want you fainting on me."
She took in great gulps of air and then indicated she was okay by pushing against his hand. For a man who had just been tortured and needed a blood transfusion, he was surprisingly strong.
"That's not possible. What you just said is not possible." She was close to panicking, and when she panicked, she wanted to get to safety. Safety was water. She glanced at the open porch just a few feet from her. She couldn't dive from where she was, she would have to get down to the pier.
Movement caught her eye. Her hand dropped to the needle in her arm and in one motion, she pulled it out and stood, already starting toward the open half wall that would allow her to escape.
Ezekiel wrapped strong fingers around her ankle and held her in place. She kicked at him, but he seemed ready for that, taking her down hard so the breath left her body in a rush, leaving her lungs burning for air.
Someone was on her, rolling her, a knee to her back, dragging her hands behind her back to secure them with ties of some kind. She turned her head to look at Ezekiel. She'd saved his life, and he repaid her with treachery.
"Bellisia." His voice was soft. Gentle.
She stared at him blankly. Inside, she could hear herself screaming. Raging. It was her own stupidity for trusting anything Peter Whitney had created.
6
Hard hands caught at Bellisia and dragged her into a sitting position. She made no sound, nor did she look away from Ezekiel. If she could get close enough, she might be able to deliver venom into him. It hurt that he'd betrayed her. Maybe there was no relationship to him, but she'd risked her freedom for him. She'd risked everything.
She tried to still her mind. She'd been a fool, she could admit that. She had to admit it. She'd built up such a ridiculous fantasy in her head, as if Ezekiel could possibly care for a woman like her. That was the thing--she wasn't a woman. She'd never been one. She'd trained to be a warrior almost from the day she was born and she knew no other life. She could have killed him, but she'd chosen to save him. Damn him for that. Damn her for caring.
"Her arm. She was giving me blood," Ezekiel said. "She's bleeding. Bellisia, my brother Mordichai is going to bandage your arm. Don't do anything aggressive toward him, please."
He sounded so reasonable. So gentle. As if he hadn't just betrayed her. He knew she was going for the water. No one could match her in the water. Once there, she would have been
long gone. He'd been the one to stop her--to expose her to these other men. Ezekiel had been hers. She'd claimed him. In her mind, they were friends, more than friends. He was hers to protect and watch over. That's what she'd been doing and he repaid her with treachery.
"She saved my life," Ezekiel added. "I would never have made it out of there without her."
She didn't take her gaze from him, letting him see that wasn't enough. It would never be enough. She sat there on the floor, her heart pounding, hurt beyond belief. She'd never felt such hurt, and none of it was physical.
"Ma'am." Mordichai crouched beside and just behind her.
Her wrists were bound together high, just above the small of her back, with strong plastic ties. She tested the strength of them surreptitiously to see if when she was in their boat she might be able to snap them and free herself. She thought it was doable, so she just had to bide her time. "You're bleeding all over the place. I'm just going to wrap a bandage around that. I'll need to put a little pressure on it."
She made no response. These men were Whitney's and they intended to give her back to him. That wasn't going to happen. She would never go back, not alive anyway. If she couldn't escape, then she would be forced to use poison on them. There was no antidote. Not even Whitney had been able to come up with one. She didn't want to kill them--well--maybe Ezekiel. He deserved to die.
Ezekiel had known they were there. He'd known they could find him. His blood, of course. If they were Whitney's creations, there had to have been one or two elite trackers among them. Once his blood was in the air, they would know he hadn't died in the explosion. They just followed the scent of his blood.
"Bellisia, we're going to have to take you back to the compound with us," Ezekiel said softly.
His voice was a weapon. She recognized that now. He was a hunter. He could soothe wild animals and people alike. His voice was the lure, the snare, and she'd fallen for it. She wished he sounded rough and ugly, that he'd shown his true colors. Luring her into a false sense of safety had been wrong. Talking as if he cared about her feelings, or even about her at all, was even more wrong. She just stared at him, with no expression on her face. She was his prisoner, but she didn't have to talk. She had no intention of engaging with him at all.
"I know what this looks like, but it has nothing to do with Whitney. We have to clear you. We've got a very important mission coming up and we can't take any chances. I've got another couple of days of training and then a couple of days in the field. You'll be made as comfortable as possible in the compound while I'm gone."
She stared at him impassively. He was the enemy. She'd trained to be captured. She also knew their end game--returning her to Whitney, so there was really no reason for her to continue with the pretense of friendship. There would be no other reason to take her prisoner, in spite of what he said.
"Can you walk, Zeke?" Mordichai asked.
Ezekiel nodded. "You'll have to help me get on my feet. I'm still a little dizzy. Bellisia patched me up and we were in the middle of a transfusion when you arrived."
More than once, Bellisia had observed these men teasing each other. They rarely were serious with each other, but now, Mordichai didn't do anything but help his brother to his feet, wrap his arm around his waist and start him toward the door. One of the men, Gino, caught her arm and urged her to her feet. She saw no reason to give him a difficult time because he was actually moving in the direction she wanted to go.
As they walked along the pier toward the boat, drops of water touched her face and hands. Just that light spray sent a ray of hope through her. A fish jumped in the middle of the water. She heard the splash and kept walking, hoping Gino would loosen his hold on her arm. She was small. That always made big men less cautious. She walked with no resistance, as if defeated, her head down, hair falling around her to add to the illusion she was presenting to them.
"If she makes it to the water, Gino, she'll be long gone. Not one of us is that good in water. She'll just disappear," Ezekiel warned quietly.
She didn't lift her head. Didn't acknowledge that further betrayal. She wanted to kill him in that moment. Ezekiel just kept up his treachery, proving to her that she'd been right to wait, to study them. All along she'd believed these were good men, not like the supersoldiers Whitney surrounded himself with, but these men were even worse. Whitney's soldiers didn't bother to lie and present a decent face to the world. Ezekiel and his team were deceivers.
"She's not going anywhere." Gino's voice was devoid of all expression. He wasn't trying to suck her into a false sense of security. He made it clear that he was all business, and she appreciated that. She understood all business. She'd set aside the fantasy and that's what she'd become. All. Business.
At the pier, the boat was tied up next to the one she'd used to bring Ezekiel there in the first place. She waited without comment while Mordichai helped Ezekiel into the boat. She was next and stepped into the vessel easily, crouching a little in order to get her footing with the sway of the water. Gino attempted to step with her, using his longer legs to ensure she had no pathway to the water. When he had one foot in the boat and one out, she exploded into action, using the power of her legs to propel her upward, catching him under his chin, knocking him off balance.
She kept going right on past him, leaping for the water in spite of her hands being tied. She didn't need hands in her favorite environment. Joy swept through her. Elation. She was actually out of the boat, over the water when hard hands settled around her waist. Fingers bit into flesh and she was hauled backward as she began her descent. She fell into the man who had prevented her escape.
Instantly she knew it was Ezekiel. She turned her head to sink her teeth into his arm. Venom rose fast, mixing with her saliva.
"Shit. Shit, Ezekiel, look out!" Draden yelled the warning.
It was there, waiting. She just had to deliver it. One bite. That was all, and he'd be dead. He deserved to be dead. At the last second she turned her head away from him and spat the venom into the water.
She felt their eyes on her. She knew what they saw. Not just the venom floating on the water, but the faint bluish rings that marked her skin and hair when she called up the venom. They were already disappearing. Draden had recognized it far before the others had.
"Thanks, Bellisia," Ezekiel said, his voice as mesmerizing as always. "I appreciate that you didn't kill me. I know this looks bad, but I'm telling you, giving you my word, you have nothing to fear from us."
Her gaze jumped to his, blazing with fire. "If that were true, I wouldn't be your prisoner. I didn't kill you this time, but that doesn't mean I won't the next." She didn't know why she hadn't bitten him. She should have. They would have tried to save him and she might have had another chance at escaping. Right now, they were all on alert.
She let the contempt show in her voice. Any puppet of Whitney's was beneath contempt. She ought to know, she'd been working for the puppet master her entire life. She had discussed the idea of how disgusting it was that they all stayed in spite of their abilities with the other girls she'd been raised with. Her sisters. Late at night when Whitney thought their every move and conversation was recorded. He'd put them in cages and expected that they would stay there. They were all good at getting out of cages, just not escaping.
Fear of the unknown held them. The need for Whitney to acknowledge they were human so they could feel human--feel deserving of living in the world with other human beings. Love for one another and fear that he would hurt those left behind. Whitney was a master at giving them reasons not to escape.
Gino tore off the bottom part of his shirt and wrapped it around her mouth, tying it tightly at the back of her head. He dragged her to the middle of the boat and shoved her down. She didn't look at him. She only watched Ezekiel. She wanted him to know he was her target. He would always be her target.
He'd been fast. Faster than she conceived a man could be, especially one of his size. No one was that fast, to stop her midair. She wis
hed she'd seen him in action, instead of being on the receiving end. Had he been a blur? He'd caught her with both hands in spite of a blood loss. She still felt the evidence around her waist. His fingers had bit deep, leaving brands behind. Burns that went through skin to bone. He was there now, inside of her, stamped deep, and every fingerprint marked his betrayal.
At least no one called her names. Whitney's guards called all the women names. Mostly bitch. She was feeling bitchy. She turned her head to take one last look at the camp as the boat swung away from the island. She'd been happy there. She didn't have the modern amenities, but she didn't need or even want them. She sat outside at night and just listened to the sound of freedom. It was the most beautiful sound she could imagine. Sometimes Donny would sit with her. He didn't talk much. He heard it too, and he knew what it meant, she could tell.
"There's no need to be rough with her, Gino," Ezekiel said. He sounded tired. Exhausted.
Bellisia couldn't help the little catch in her breath as her gaze jumped to his face. He had lost so much blood, all those cuts, some deep, some not, but they'd taken a toll on him. She didn't want his health or well-being to matter to her, but it did. She acknowledged it to herself, because if she was going to escape, she had to know what she would or wouldn't do to gain her freedom. Clearly, she wasn't willing to kill him.
"She almost killed you, Ezekiel." It was Mordichai who answered. "One bite and you would have been gone."
"The point is, she could have and she didn't," Ezekiel pointed out and slid off the bench seat to sit beside her. He swayed and then caught himself with one hand propped against the side of the boat. "She isn't an enemy. I can understand why we have to take her into custody until this is over, but I don't want anyone to be rough with her. If that happens, make no mistake, you'll answer to me." His words, uttered in that beautiful voice, seemed a little slurred to her ears.
She could see that his word carried weight with the men. She glanced at the others under the cover of her lashes and the darkness. She recognized the others. She'd been watching Ezekiel long enough to identify them. Master Sergeant Gino Mazza. They called him "Phantom," and she understood why. He was utterly silent when he moved, and her best guess was he was the one leading the way to them. Even when she'd observed him around the family, he rarely smiled or talked.
Power Game Page 10