He swallowed hard. How could he be falling for her? He just met her a few days ago, didn’t even really know her. Yet she called to him like a siren to a doomed sailor.
He wanted to know everything about her: her favorite color; how she liked her coffee; did she watch football and if so, who did she root for?
One important factor stood in his way.
Her engagement. To another man.
Her smile faltered.
He wiped the fierce scowl off his face and forced a friendly grin as he eased down to the edge of the mattress. "Hi."
"Hi yourself," she replied, scooting up against the headboard.
"No IV," he noticed.
She grinned. "Jen convinced Dr. Bexley to decrease the meds."
"That’s great," he said, meaning it.
Her smile twisted into a grimace. "I’m going crazy," she complained.
He tucked a strand of curly black hair behind her ear, imagining the golden mane he remembered from the picture. "I know you are, babe."
"I need to search for Molly."
"What you need to do is get the hell out of here. Now, I can—"
"No."
"Please listen to reason. It’s not safe for you to stay here anymore."
"I don’t care," she insisted adamantly. "If I leave now, everything I have done up until now will be wasted. I have been drugged, groped, verbally abused and physically threatened. I am not walking away. I came here to find Molly and until I do, I’m not leaving."
He eyed the bandage covering the puncture mark on her arm. He seriously considered drugging her and removing her himself. "I do have good news for you." Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a thin blue stick.
Her eyes widened. "A pregnancy test? But you said the new charts were negative."
"Yeah, they were. You aren’t pregnant…yet."
She tilted her head. "What exactly does that mean?"
"It means I’ve been ordered to handle the job."
"What?" she screeched.
"Hush," he chastised, covering her mouth. "We don’t need to bring the nurses running."
A fist grabbed his shirt and yanked him closer. He dropped his hand. "What exactly are you supposed to do?"
Her cheeks flushed with color, her jaw clenched, her hair a riot of dyed tangles yet he barely resisted the urge to press his lips to hers.
He was in deep trouble.
Forcing his thoughts back to the question, he replied, "I’ve been ordered to get you pregnant."
Her hold fell from his shirt and she clutched his hand, her mouth rounding in shock. "Oh my God."
Ben wondered if he should be offended at the look of stark horror on her face. Was it a reaction to someone ordering a violation of her body or the person ordered to violate it? He did not imagine her response to him. When he kissed her, she participated equally, sometimes taking charge. Passion sizzled just beneath her delicate, sophisticated surface.
But in a few short weeks she would pledge to spend her life and all that passion on another man. J. Edwin Farnsworth. The third.
The thought of that wimp touching her, kissing her, making love to her…the scowl returned in full force.
She met his glare. "Who ordered you to rape me?"
He debated whether or not to divulge the information. He didn’t want her flying off the handle and doing something reckless that could get her hurt or worse—killed.
She bared her teeth in a feral smile. "You might as well tell me, otherwise I’ll find out on my own."
Oh, he had no doubt about that. She was a hellcat trapped in the body of a refined socialite. An almost married refined socialite. His voice came out rougher than he intended. "Arthur Michaels."
Her brows dipped in confusion.
"The director of the Bexley Institute," he prompted.
"Short, arrogant, glasses, obvious comb-over?"
"That’s him."
"Why that little…" Her face broke into an animated smile. "This could be the break we’ve been looking for. We can call the police and have him arrested."
"Babe, I can’t arrest a man because he told me to sleep with you."
"Why not?"
"He would deny the charges. It would be my word against his. We don’t have proof."
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The hidden camera caught every word. But Michaels couldn’t orchestrate an operation of this magnitude by himself. If Ben hauled him in now, they might never discover who his accomplices were or what happened to Donelle and the other missing patients.
"We can have Carl arrested, too."
No, they really couldn’t. "On what charges?"
"He wanted to molest me?"
One corner of his mouth kicked up at her answer that came out as a question. He shook his head.
"Why not? We could throw them in jail, force them to talk." Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are you laughing at me?"
He couldn’t contain his mirth. "Babe, this isn’t the Middle Ages. We can’t strap them to the rack and stretch until they break or drip water on their foreheads until they slowly go insane and spill their guts."
"Give me five minutes in the room alone with them," she threatened determinedly.
He didn’t even try to restrain the smile this time. He had no doubt she could make them sing like Pavarotti.
Her pink lips curved until her grin matched his. Just as suddenly, it faded. "You said ‘I’," she accused.
He shook his head. "What?"
"You said ‘I’," she repeated. At his blank look, she rolled her eyes and explained. "When I said we could have the cops arrest them, you said, ‘I can’t arrest them’. Not the police or we, you said ‘I’."
"Figure of speech," he hedged.
She shook her head. "No. I would not refer to myself arresting someone else. I would say the authorities. No, when you said it, you meant you." She poked him in the chest. "You are a cop, aren’t you?"
When trapped, stick as close to the truth as possible. He shrugged a shoulder. "Habit. I spent a few years on the force. It’s all in my personnel records." Not a lie, according to Benny Smith’s file.
She studied him intently. "You’re lying. You looked me in the eye the other night and told me you were never a cop."
He shifted uncomfortably on the bed and scoffed. "Do you want me to bring you a copy of my resume?" He looked away from her probing gaze.
"It wouldn’t prove anything," she insisted. "It says what you want people to believe. You are a cop and you are here undercover, just like me."
"I’m not admitting anything," he said. "But if I told you I was, would that convince you to let me handle it and get the hell out of here?"
Her head moved from side to side, a knowing smirk on her face.
He tossed his hands in the air in frustration. "Fine. I have a job to do."
He started to stand but her hand clamped down on his leg, holding him in place. "Wait. We haven’t decided what to do about the task you have been ordered to fulfill."
"We don’t have to worry about it until you are moved from isolation. Actually, I think Harley did you a favor. From what I’ve been told, you are practically untouchable in this room. Between the prescribed sedatives and the frequent monitoring, this is the safest place for you."
She made a dismissive noise, obviously not agreeing with his assessment. "What happens when I’m moved?"
"You mean the part about getting you pregnant?"
She flashed him a "well, duh" look and he bit back a smile. "If push comes to shove, I’ll leave it dark, undress, climb under the sheets and pretend to fu—uh, have sex with you."
Damn, that was going to be a challenge. Having her sweet body beneath him, feeling the press of her nipples, the scent of her skin would more than likely set him off for real.
"And I’m just supposed to lie there like a good little trooper, drugged up and oblivious, pretending not to react?"
He nodded dubiously.
"Have you been freebasing Thorazine?"
>
#
Rachel batted Ben’s annoying hand away from her mouth. "Yeah, yeah, I know, be quiet." She made a face at him. It’s not like she meant to scream the words, she was just having a hard time processing everything. A man she had never met ordered Ben to rape her, get her pregnant and he was an undercover cop whether he admitted it or not.
"Are you saying you would react to me?"
Her gaze sharpened. Maybe he was sniffing drugs. How could he ask her that question? He backed away last time they kissed, she certainly didn’t stop him.
Her belly fluttered at the thought of having his child. She let her gaze wander from his handsome face down his solid, well-built body. He would make beautiful babies, no doubt about it. They would be gorgeous and strong and as tough as nails.
"So if I did this," he ran his fingers across her cheek, "You would react?"
She nodded dumbly.
"And if I did this…" He traced her jaw with his tongue. "What would you do?"
She shivered.
"How about now?" A strong palm cupped her breast, his thumb brushing across the tip. Her breast surged at the intimacy of his touch, her nipple pebbling instantly. She moaned, thrusting her chest into his hand.
A guttural sound erupted from his throat and he crushed his mouth to hers, pressing her deeply into the pillows. Her tongue met his urgent thrusts, the taste of him intoxicating.
He tore his mouth away and kissed a trail from her jaw to the sensitive hollow beneath her ear.
"God, Rachel, I can’t get enough of you."
Speech was beyond her at the moment. She made a sound of agreement and ran her hand through his silky hair.
His lips traced her collarbone and then replaced the hand covering her breast. She gasped and arched into his mouth. He growled and shoved the blue top up to expose her bare breasts. The nurse hadn’t replaced her bra after her sponge bath yesterday.
He stared reverently at her chest. "So beautiful," he murmured. His bent down and traced a path around her nipples, purposely avoiding the tip straining for his attention.
"Ben, please," she begged desperately.
He obliged, pushing the mounds together so he could move from one to the other quickly, expertly. He drew the circle around the nipple and then tugged it into his mouth with a sharp pull. She felt the first fluttering of a spectacular climax.
"Ben," she cried, so close to the edge.
Suddenly he released her breast and settled her shirt in place. She wanted to yell in frustration. She had been so close, her body pulsing with unfulfilled need. One glance at the front of his jeans told her that he was close, too.
Why did he stop again?
"Ben?"
Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he stood. "I need to get going." He refused to make eye contact. "I’ll uh, check on you later."
He tossed one last look over his shoulder and groaned. She followed his gaze. Two wet circles topped her breasts, her nipples outlined against the damp fabric.
She looked up to say something seductive and sexy, hoping to entice him to finish the job he started, only to find herself all alone in an empty room.
Chapter Twenty
Ben shuffled the deck and dealt five cards to Peter and then himself. He kept one eye trained on the computer monitor, waiting for any flash of activity. Peter wired all the cameras into Ben’s cell and his own laptop and programmed it so that all the lines fed onto one screen. If they detected movement in any frame, Peter could bring that camera into focus and zoom in for a closer look.
Peter’s knowledge of computers and electronics impressed him. He proved himself to be a great partner. He wondered if he would be interested in becoming a security specialist.
Peter had downloaded the video of Carl’s murder to his computer, valiantly watching as Arthur felled the giant man. Ben emailed a copy to Jake for safekeeping.
It was late and so far, nothing transpired all evening. A new patient had been admitted to Gary's room yesterday, so they were waiting to see if he would disappear. Ben had just tossed down another losing poker hand…Peter was quite the shark…when a flicker caught his eye. He jerked upright and grabbed the mouse, focusing in on one screen.
"Bingo, Pete."
A man wheeled a gurney in the service elevator and stepped inside. "We got ‘em." The doors whispered closed. Peter switched back to the screen displaying all the feeds.
"Did you get a good look at the man?" he asked as he pocketed another round of ammunition and palmed his Glock.
The boy shook his head. "The cap covered too much of his face."
They waited. And waited. The door in the basement never opened.
"Sonofabitch," he snarled, racing out of the room, Peter on his heels. Rounding the corner, he punched the elevator button. The panels glided open instantly.
Empty.
He spun in a circle. "Where the hell did they go?"
Pacing back and forth, one hand rubbing his neck, his brain churned. He snapped his fingers. "A hidden exit."
"You mean inside the elevator?"
"Yeah." He rushed forward, his fingers dancing along the walls searching for a secret catch. Peter studied the knobs and the emergency phone. Stopping abruptly, Ben jerked his head, indicating for Peter to leave the lift. Confused, Peter stepped outside. The doors slid shut.
"If we find the catch and activate it, we have no idea what that panel will open into," he explained.
Realization widened Peter’s eyes. "Like a platoon of armed guards waiting to blow us to smithereens with assault weapons?"
He chuckled at Peter’s vivid description. "Exactly," he agreed. "We need to find out what awaits on the other side before we go storming inside."
Removing two of the cameras angled down the hall, he punched the elevator button. When the doors opened, he attached one to the light fixture on the roof and the other on the panel facing the back wall.
"I hate like hell we lost another one," he said. Peter made a sound of agreement.
"Back to square one."
#
Ben met Jake in a coffee shop before his shift the next morning. Black stubble peppered his former partner’s normally smooth jaw, his clothes unkempt.
"Late night?" he greeted with a big smile.
Jake skewered him with a dark, half-lidded gaze. "It would have been if you hadn’t called and interrupted," he grumped, lifting a steaming mug to his lips.
He slapped Jake’s shoulder and slid in the booth across from him. He had no doubt his buddy would find that brunette runner and charm her into his bed. Jake’s list of conquests was legendary.
Signaling the waitress, he flipped his mug over and smiled as she filled his cup. Jake waited for her to leave before unfurling a set of blueprints and spreading them across the table. He used a ketchup bottle to anchor one end and the combination salt and pepper shaker another.
"I had to call in a couple of pretty big favors to get these so fast," he complained.
Ben studied the plans and frowned. He pointed to the drawing of the service elevator. "These don’t show any room on the other side."
"Nor another entry," Jake added.
"Obviously whoever designed that room wanted no record of it on file."
"You said no one came back all night?"
Ben shook his head.
"Then there has to be another entrance to that room somewhere on the grounds."
Ben flipped a page on the blueprints. "Look, there are three buildings around the perimeter of the facility. Two storage sheds of some kind, and an incinerator."
"Any one of them could mask a hidden access," Jake agreed. "It makes sense it would be the one closest to the institution, but it could be either of these two on the fringe, where security cameras wouldn’t pick up activity."
"I’ll search all three buildings tonight."
#
April slid the switchblade beneath the plastic and sliced the band off Rachel’s arm.
"I’ll be back as soon as
I can, April."
"Are you sure I can’t go with you?"
"I don’t want you getting caught. Besides, Ben’s going to go ballistic the way it is. No sense in having him upset with you, too."
But as mad as he would be, it wouldn’t even put a dent in the anger Rachel felt. They had talked for a long time today and he hadn’t even seen the need to inform her of what he would be doing tonight. She found out through April, who learned about the nocturnal investigation from Peter.
Ben had told her another patient, this one male, had been taken and about the possible hidden room in the basement. And he admitted that he was a former FBI agent investigating the facility. She discovered that he knew one of the girls who vanished, Donelle Bendershott, and that like her situation with Molly, he felt responsible for Donelle’s disappearance. She was both shocked and slightly relieved to find out Carl had been murdered, but saddened that Ben had to witness the attack. He revealed his real last name to be Colton. But did he elaborate on how he would find out what that hidden room contained?
Heck no.
Molly could be in there, drugged, scared, hurt.
She refused to stay in bed any longer and let the big, strong man rescue her friend. If he didn’t let her hunt for Molly, her whole purpose of getting committed would be completely pointless.
"Be careful," April whispered with a worried frown.
"I will," she promised, shoving a last lock of hair beneath a black knit cap. April had somehow procured the dark clothing she needed to blend in with the night. She adjusted the black turtleneck that matched the black leggings and headed for the window April told her about. Located in the utility closet, it was one of the few that could be opened, supposedly for the purpose of airing out the industrial cleaner odors. She couldn’t use any of the doors because of security lights and cameras. This window faced the west side, nothing but grass and trees.
She shimmied up to the window. The opening wasn’t very big and she had a little trouble squeezing through. She squirmed and maneuvered until her feet were planted on the narrow ledge.
All those years of gymnastics and martial arts were about to pay off.
Carefully, without losing her balance, she pulled the window most of the way closed, leaving a little crack so she could reenter. Inhaling, she pushed off the ledge and dove to the nearest branch, latching on with both hands. Without missing a beat, she dropped down to the next limb and from there, it was a short drop to the ground. Just like the uneven bars.
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