Captive of the Beast

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “It could be a past patient,” Rinehart countered. “One she didn’t bring to the island.”

  “No,” Walch said. “It’s Laura. I know it is. And tell me why either of us would screw with cloning patients who need injections when we can clone Laura’s genetic code and make perfect soldiers?”

  Jag’s warning came back to him: Laura was dangerous in the hands of the Beasts. “She doesn’t want any part of this,” Rinehart commented. “You won’t get her help willingly.”

  Walch cast him an impatient look. “Based on how she looked at you, if anyone can make her willing, it’s you. I’ll give you a few days to seduce her into cooperation.”

  Rinehart needed to show resistance, but not too much. This seduction plan would get him close to Laura. But he also didn’t want to agree too easily. “I didn’t come here to play some bedroom game, Captain. I came here to make my research a reality.”

  “You came here for my money and resources. If you want them, you’ll do as I say.”

  Rinehart raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you mean the government’s money and resources?”

  “I am the government, Mr. Rinehart, and don’t you forget it.” There was no mistaking the threat lacing his words. “I’m also a resourceful man, accustomed to getting what I want. My superiors like that about me.” He pushed off the Jeep. “Let me show you just how resourceful.” He started walking, as though expecting Rinehart to fall into step.

  Balling his hands by his sides, Rinehart grimaced. This was the first time he’d ever had to tolerate a Beast rather than simply killing it. And damn if it wasn’t testing his restraint to the limits.

  Chapter 3

  A few minutes later, Rinehart and Walch stood inside a small apartment that seemed as much laboratory as it did living quarters. What his living arrangements had to do with Walch’s resourcefulness, he had no idea. Shiny white tile covered the floors, and when combined with the bright white walls, the effect was damn near blinding. The closest things to color in the room were the cream-colored leather couch and the marble coffee table.

  “This will be your temporary home. Very temporary, I hope. I want this project nailed down rapidly. Your men are one floor up.”

  Rinehart would be done in a few days, all right, but not in the way Walch meant. He’d be ending this project and delivering Walch and his men to hell, minus their plan for super-soldier Beasts.

  Playing his role, Rinehart was quick to counter Walch’s statement with caution. “I feel compelled to remind you that our work has been limited to animals thus far. We’ve never tried to reproduce our results with humans.”

  “I don’t want words of caution, Mr. Rinehart. I want results. I want every soldier on this island to become an unstoppable weapon in the next generation of warfare, human weapons that can’t be stopped.”

  Rinehart digested that statement with concern. There were two thousand people on this island. Not only could they not be allowed to become human experiments in this weapon’s creation, they couldn’t be left as prey for the Beasts.

  Walch continued, “As I mentioned, I’m a resourceful man, and I plan to arm you with every tool possible to ensure success.” He picked up a remote from the coffee table. “When I saw how well your first meeting was progressing with Laura, I took the liberty of calling my programmer. He’s given you access to a special feature on your television that I’ve found quite helpful in the past. I’m sure you will, as well.” His lips twitched, a hint of an evil smile playing on them. He hit the power button. The screen filled with the image of a bathroom, with a woman behind a shower curtain humming a soft tune, her voice dancing along his nerve endings with a familiar, warming sensation. Recognition came first, followed by rage. Pure, white-hot rage. Laura. Rinehart’s temples pulsed, his blood thickened. This son of a bitch was taping Laura.

  With extreme effort, he sucked in a breath and struggled for control. Never before had he felt such a desire to hurt someone as he did toward Walch right then. Never before had his dark side felt this close to the surface. He could feel himself about to snap, the primitive emotions normally reserved for battle taking hold of him. His feelings of possessiveness toward Laura were unnatural; his reactions to her, too intense. Mate. That word took him back for a minute, made him pause. Was Laura his mate? Could it be? If his protectiveness toward her was any indication, the answer was yes.

  He drew a discreet, deep breath, reasoning with himself, reminding himself of his duty to his men, his commitment to bring innocents to safety.

  Now Rinehart ground his teeth as he funneled rational thoughts through his mind and forced out the primitive ones, measuring his actions. The Knights were outnumbered on this island, and his rash actions could get them killed.

  His gaze settled on Walch, and Rinehart realized with relief that the man—no, the Beast—had not noticed his anger. Walch was too busy staring at the television screen, waiting for Laura to exit that shower. With his gaze still riveted on Laura’s image, Walch spoke, making it obvious he was aware of Rinehart’s attention on him. “If she uses her powers, or attempts to escape, we will know.” He glanced at Rinehart, his eyes glinting with lust. “Makes for interesting television, I might add.” Then his tone changed. “Bed her and get her confidence. I want her powers exposed, and her cooperation in hand. If you can’t get through to her and fast, I’ll force her submission.”

  “How exactly will you do that?” Rinehart asked, tension coiling in his gut.

  He snorted. “Easy. She treats those damn patients like her children. If I threaten them, she’ll do whatever we want. Of course, I’ve gotten to know her well enough to know, in that scenario, she’d be plotting against us at every turn. I’d prefer that you get through to her. In a perfect world, you’ll get her close, milk her for what she’s worth and make her disposable. There might even be a bonus in it for you.”

  Rinehart could guess what that meant for Laura. He doubted seriously that the Beasts would kill her as they did other human women. They’d convert her into a Beast and turn her into a weapon. Over my dead body, he vowed silently.

  “I’ll take care of Laura,” he said, his voice low and clipped, hating this role he had to play. “You just get ready to write me that bonus check.”

  “That’s what I want to hear,” Walch said, his eyes lighting with victory a second before he studied Laura’s image again. His lips twisted in an evil smile, as he appeared to reluctantly turn his attention back to Rinehart. “I’ll give you some privacy to study Laura’s habits more intimately.” He set the remote on the table. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Rinehart.”

  The door shut and Rinehart charged toward it focused on one thing—his total outrage. He wanted to get his hands on Walch and make him pay for what he was doing to Laura. As his hand gripped the doorknob, he reined himself in. With extreme willpower he forced himself to pause, to think through his actions. The Knights were outnumbered here. No matter how much he wanted to kill Walch for what he was doing to Laura, he couldn’t. Not yet.

  He forced himself to walk to the couch, to sit down and attempt to both understand and reel in his emotions. Suddenly, his eyes were on the television, fixed on Laura as she stepped out of the shower, gloriously naked and dripping water. A low growl escaped his throat as his groin tightened without his consent. He grabbed the remote and turned it off, even as a word played in his head. Mine. Damn it! Guilt overtook him for what he’d just seen. For wanting to leave that image of Laura playing, wanting to see her naked.

  But not like this. Not like some freaking Peeping Tom.

  He pushed to his feet again, scrubbing his jaw, wired with rage all over again. Thinking about Walch watching Laura in her most private moments ate him alive. It couldn’t continue. Wouldn’t continue. He froze in stride. Those cameras were coming out of Laura’s room, and they were coming out today. While Laura was in the lab, he and Max would make it happen. Walch couldn’t do a damn thing about it, either. If he tried, Rinehart would threaten to tell Laura about the came
ras, which would be the kiss of death to her cooperation. Clearly, Walch believed Laura’s cooperation held value, and he believed Rinehart was the way to get it.

  Rinehart couldn’t wait for the confrontation that would come when Walch found out he’d lost his surveillance of Laura. Bring it on, he thought. Bring. It. On. He was in charge of what happened here. It was time Walch started to learn that.

  Despite the tiny victory this plan would achieve for Rinehart, another troubling thought came to mind. Laura had become the focus of the Beasts’ plan to enhance their soldiers and defeat the Knights. Laura. A woman—logic said—who could be his mate. Why else would she incite such intense emotions in him when no other could? Yet Laura, the woman who might well be the mate who could save his soul from the darkness, had perhaps become the biggest threat the Knights had ever faced.

  If she were as powerful as Walch thought her to be, then Laura’s gifts, duplicated in the Beasts, could shift the power from good to evil. Laura might well hold more than his future in her hands. She could hold the future of the Knights, and even humankind, in her hands.

  Still furious over Walch’s little peep show at Laura’s expense, Rinehart found his way to the lab entrance at the same moment that a stairwell door opened a few feet away. Des appeared in the doorway, followed by Max, Rock and Lucan. Rinehart didn’t ask why they had bypassed the elevators. He knew. They were exploring, getting to know the undisclosed details of their location, preparing for whatever might come their way and expecting the worst.

  “I assume you got the same deluxe welcoming package I got in my room?” Rinehart asked, as they communed in a circle in the hallway. “Cameras, mikes, electronic accessories?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Max confirmed. “We’re wired tight.”

  Rinehart ground his teeth. “Walch gets off on watching everyone here, male and female. And by watching, I mean every intimate moment.”

  Des cursed in Spanish. “That piece of—”

  “Garbage,” Rinehart finished for him, with Lucan chiming in at the same time.

  “There’s no reason to watch her bathroom besides simple, perverted exploitation,” Rinehart added. “I’m taking out the cameras.”

  “And when Walch finds out?” Max asked.

  Rinehart’s eyes lifted to the ceiling, to an air vent that was perfect for a hidden camera. He hoped like hell there was one; he hoped Walch was listening right now. “Walch can kiss my tight, white ass.” His gaze riveted back to Max’s. “I plan to spend a lot of time in that room, and I’m not doing it with an audience. I’m here to make scientific history, not provide X-rated entertainment.”

  Max’s eyes narrowed, an inquiry shining in the steely depths. He wanted to say more, to ask questions; he couldn’t with an audience. Instead, he smiled. “Can’t blame you for that. I’ve got a nifty little signal disrupter you can plant once you’re inside.”

  “Company arriving,” Des warned.

  Rinehart turned to see Laura approaching, and his heart raced with the sight of her. God, she was beautiful. Classically so. The silky mass of her auburn hair was primly pulled back in a knot at her neck, enhancing the high cut of her aristocratic cheekbones and the fairness of her ivory-perfect skin. She wore a simple black dress and black heels that came off as sleek and stylish; the long legs he’d admired only an hour before were sexy and bare.

  She was the epitome of simple elegance. A woman meant to be on the arm of a man of status. Not some soldier who knew nothing but survival. Which meant he had to be wrong—she couldn’t be his mate. But this knowledge did nothing to tame the desire raging inside him, the desire burning for reward. He watched her walk, becoming aroused at the sultry sway of her hips. She stopped in front of them, her arms crossing beneath her full breasts, tension dancing off her like an electric charge.

  His gaze lifted to her red, painted lips. He wanted to taste her.

  “Hello, Laura.” Her eyes met his for a flicker of a moment before her lashes lowered. But in that moment, he’d seen the same heat of awareness he felt for her reflected in her own gaze. And he’d seen her conflict over those feelings. She thought he was the enemy, yet she still wanted him.

  He burned to look into those eyes again. “I’d like you to meet my men,” he said, forcing her to give him her attention again as he indicated each man as he spoke. “Max, Rock, Lucan and Des. Lucan has invested a lot of time in this project. I think you will find his research of interest.”

  “I have no interest in turning humans into weapons,” she countered, “and I won’t take all of you into my lab. You’ll scare my patients. If I had my way, I wouldn’t take any of you.”

  Rinehart ignored the cutting remark. “Understandable,” he conceded. “Max and Rock handle security. Myself, Des and Lucan will be involved with the actual laboratory studies.”

  Her brows dipped, confusion registering in her expression. “You brought security personnel to a military facility?”

  Rinehart pinned her in a steady gaze. “I trust my men.” The inference being that he trusted no one else, especially not Walch. He hoped they could bond on that issue.

  She studied him a moment. “I don’t,” she said finally.

  Okay, so much for bonding. Though he didn’t like her response, her directness didn’t surprise him, not after his earlier encounter with her. “We’ll earn your trust,” he vowed.

  Her reply was instant, her words as sharp as a saber sword. “Don’t waste the effort. It won’t work.” She turned away, shutting down a rebuttal. The lab door opened and quickly shut behind her.

  Rinehart let out a heavy sigh. Jag hadn’t exaggerated when he said this assignment would be a challenge, and judging from the looks on the other Knights’ faces, they agreed. Laura was that and so much more. But he’d earn her trust, or he’d die trying.

  A low whistle slipped from Des’s lips. “This is going to get interesting. I can’t wait to see how you’re going to manage that time in her room you mentioned. Right now, I don’t think she’d give you time in hell.”

  Rinehart shot Des an irritated look. “I’ll manage,” he promised. “You can count on it.”

  Two hours later, Rinehart and his men sat around a lab table and watched as Carol, Laura’s twenty-five-year-old patient, finished moving a chair with her mind, the last of a thirty-minute demonstration of her powers. Before her had been the twenty-year-old twins, Jacob and Jared, who were superhero strong, able to bend steel with their minds.

  The chair slid from one side of the room to the other. Completing her task, Carol laced her fingers together in front of her, her long raven hair lying in silky waves around her shoulders. She was a lovely, young girl, but her skin was unnaturally pale, with dark circles distinct beneath her pale eyes.

  “Shall I continue?” she asked, her attention fixed on Rinehart rather than on Laura, the depths of her stare radiating an empty quality, a quality that spoke of a Beast’s influence. Rinehart was certain that Carol had not been converted yet; she was simply being controlled. One bite from a Beast, and a soul could linger between life and death indefinitely.

  “I think we’ve seen enough,” Laura said, answering the question with a hint of a sharp tone.

  Carol’s attention slowly slid to Laura, boring into her almost angrily before she said, “Very well.” She turned on her heels and slowly walked toward the door.

  Rinehart noted Laura’s frown, the worry shimmering deep in her eyes. Laura sensed something was wrong with Carol, perhaps could see it in her changing behavior. In the way a weakened soul allowed the influence of evil to slide into its core.

  Laura seemed to shake herself, tearing her attention away from Carol’s departure and back to the table. With the firestarter having yet to show up, only one patient remained ready to show off his talents. A tall, lanky, sixteen-year-old kid named Blake stood up and smiled. “My turn.” Laura laughed softly, the sound trickling over Rinehart’s nerve endings like a soft lover’s caress. Damn. Her impact on him was downright unnerving in it
s ability to overwhelm and control him.

  “What are you laughing for?” Blake asked, but his grin said he knew why.

  “I never thought I’d see the day when you would be eager to show off your gift rather than deny it exists.” Laura winked at Blake. “We’ve come a long way, baby.”

  “Bring it on,” Des challenged. “Show us what you got.”

  Then, despite having read Jag’s reports about Blake, Rinehart sat in startled disbelief as Blake disappeared, faded away into invisibility, and then several seconds later reappeared in the same spot. He didn’t orb as only a few select Knights and Beasts could do. He simply made himself invisible. The other patients’ gifts had been amazing. But this—this was unbelievably dangerous. In the hands of the Beasts, downright deadly.

  “Unfreaking believable,” Des murmured beside him, rubbing his eyes as if they were tricking him.

  A quick look at Lucan said he was thinking the same thing as Rinehart. This kid was danger with a capital D.

  Blake grinned again, baring bright, white teeth. “Pretty cool, huh?” he asked, a childlike quality coming through that made him appear more twelve than sixteen. But then, he’d lived a sheltered life.

  “Yes,” Laura said. “It’s cool.” She glanced at the clock. “Don’t you have to study for that algebra exam tomorrow?”

  Blake’s slender shoulders slumped. “I hate algebra.”

  “All the more reason to study,” she reminded him, and cut her gaze from his, her eyes colliding with Rinehart’s. And just like that, emotions rushed over Rinehart. The worry Laura felt about this reached across the room and tore a hole in his gut. That emotion, her emotion, somehow became his, and it did so with such a definitive presence, the impact damn near shook him to the core. Was he losing his mind? Rinehart narrowed his gaze on hers, searching. Did she have an ability that was creating this weird link to her emotions. Emotions that formed words in his mind—her words, her thoughts. Blake deserves a good life. He deserves to get away from this place. I have to get him out of here.