by Julie Miller
Rick gaped stupidly at Emma when she walked past him, out of the office. BJ almost pitied the man when Brodie ushered him inside and shut the door. Rick looked different from his usual, immaculate self. Sweat beaded his forehead and hairline. Damp, wrinkled workout clothes clung to his skin. His hair hung loosely over his shoulders, falling out of its usual ponytail.
“I want my lawyer.”
“That's not an option.” When Brodie spoke, Rick jumped closer to BJ. Not that he'd find an ally in her, but she couldn't blame him for being intimidated.
“I found your files, Rick. What you're doing is illegal. LadyTech won't be a party to it.” She watched him struggle to regain some of his composure. Gloating triumph lit inside her, feeling unnatural, but she seized upon the strength it gave her. “I also had an interesting bit of memory recall yesterday.”
Rick's eyes blazed darkly.
“I remember you attacking me and shooting me full of something. I remember you planting the trigger to a posthypnotic suggestion.”
Found out, Rick's face turned a variety of colors as he worked through his emotions, pale white, sickly green, angry red, then finally a flush of pink. He crossed his arms in a pose of cocky confidence. “So what are you going to do about it? Arrest me? Worry the rest of your life that I can punch a button anywhere in the world and tap into your head?”
BJ felt the first waver in her own confidence. Rick seized the weakness and stepped toward her, but was stopped by Brodie's hand on his shoulder. Rick smiled and acquiesced. Brodie released him.
“Prisons have computers, too. I can control that arrogant brain of yours anywhere, anytime I want.”
“I can erase your programs, Rick.”
He laughed, a sick, disgusting sound. “They're your programs, Beej. You're the one who cracked the security lockout in Washington. You're the one who reorganized the accounts in Bern. I'm just a guy a little smarter than you who can make you do whatever I please.”
BJ hugged herself, fighting the urge to crumple into her chair. She looked beyond Rick to Brodie. The vein that betrayed his intense emotions throbbed beneath his scarred cheek. He was holding back, allowing her to control this confrontation. His silent support gave her the strength to continue.
“I'm cognizant now. I know how you're doing this. I can fight it.”
“Can you?” Rick glanced at Brodie, then moved past BJ to a neutral corner of the office. She turned, not willing to leave her back exposed to him. “I want you to guarantee me there will be no criminal prosecution. And I want that position in Tokyo.” He smiled at her, rubbing his hands together. “Or I'll never release you from the mind control.”
The floor spun beneath her feet and rushed up to greet her. But she fell against the sturdy wall of Brodie, who gripped her by the arms and supported her until she could think clearly again.
“Shut up, Chambers.” She had never heard Brodie sound so menacing before. Even she trembled within his hands. “You're not controlling her. You're as much a victim of this game as she is.”
“I'm no victim,” Rick countered. “None of you believe that I'm the real genius here.”
“Where did you learn about posthypnotic suggestion? You're trained in computers, not psychiatry. Think, Chambers.”
Brodie's muscles bunched in controlled fury behind BJ. Rick looked shaken. BJ's thoughts whirled in confusion.
Brodie charged ahead, relentlessly. “You don't remember where you learned it, do you? Because you didn't. You're nothing more than a pawn in a cruel, sadistic game, being manipulated just as completely as BJ.”
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“You don't know what you're talking about.” Brodie released BJ and stalked toward Rick. The smaller man fell back a step. “You're being used by a sorcerer who's put you under a spell. He can control people's minds with a flick of his wrist and a whim. He's using you.”
“Who is he?” BJ's question drowned out Rick's. “Brodie, what are you talking about? I remember what happened.”
Brodie turned and looked down at her, his eyes brimming with such pain that BJ went to him. But he pulled his arm away at her touch.
“Do you remember what happened two days ago when you saw Morrisey?”
BJ admitted a surprisingly vague recollection. “I talked with him most of the morning. He brought in some experts to interview me.”
“After that. Do you remember?”
The look he gave her was so pointed and forceful that she had to lower her gaze. For Brodie's sake, she tried to remember the details. But the harder she concentrated, the more elusive the memory became. She remembered going down to the interview room. She remembered Damon nixing her protests. She remembered…
Nothing.
Her recollection of that day ended with Damon tapping her on the nose, or some such silly, loving gesture. She couldn't recall a single question the so-called experts had asked her.
What she did recall was a sensation of panic, of hopelessness and fear. What she couldn't re-member was why.
“Do you remember me carrying you out of there?”
Brodie seemed so angry, like a storm brewing beneath the surface. But was he angry with her? Or was the anger directed at himself? Or at Rick?
“I don't remember leaving.”
“Because he cast a spell over you.”
“Rick?”
“No, damn it!” Brodie's voice rattled the furniture. “This won't stop when you put Chambers away. This will go on forever until you confront him.”
“Who?” His attack sparked her own anger.
Brodie suddenly hunched his shoulders and lowered his voice, making himself smaller, trying hard not to scare her. “I didn't want to tell you. I don't want to hurt you.”
Even with a sinking heart, BJ demanded an answer. “Who do you think is behind this?”
“Damon Morrisey.”
The name hung in the air while BJ processed it. Facts jumbled like pieces of an unworkable jigsaw puzzle in her head. The glimmer of understanding that toyed with her got pushed aside by her denial of the one thing in this world she could not accept.
“Damon?”
“He's a fellow immortal. He's using sorcery, not science, to control you.”
“Damon?” BJ repeated dumbly.
Rick's laughter bounced through the room. “This is my scheme. I don't know how thoughts get through that muscle inside your head, Maxwell, but this one's obviously out of left field.”
BJ heard the insult, but didn't respond to it. She was too caught up in the turbulent plea for forgiveness etched on Brodie's grim features.
Rick walked right past them to the door, unimpeded. “I planned all this. You can attribute it to my brilliance, not hocus-pocus. My passport is in order. Let me know when to pack my bags, Beej.”
When he left, BJ had no clue. The shock finally eroded, and emotional self-preservation galvanized her. She put the distance of the room between them before facing Brodie. “Rick Chambers is behind this, not Damon. Just because you hate the man—”
“The man isn't human. He's a sorcerer. He's the same damn sorcerer who did this to me!” He took a step forward but halted when BJ threw up her hands and retreated. “I knew him the moment I saw his eyes. You never forget the eyes of a man who has no conscience, a man who kills for sport and uses people because it feeds a sick need for power and control.”
“You're crazy. I thought I was messed up, but you're crazy.”
His cheek throbbed with some emotion so powerful that it scared her. For the first time since she had grabbed his foot and looked up at his towering figure, he truly frightened her.
“I'm not crazy. I'm cursed. And the bastard who did this to me is using you to replace the daughter I killed.”
BJ circled toward the door, knowing it was a useless gesture to try and run from Brodie. But she seized upon the false security the outlet gave her.
“It doesn't make sense, Brodie. I might buy that you're eight hundred years ol
d, but not Damon. If he is a sorcerer, he can't be the one you talk about. There's no logic to it.” She grasped at a slim thread of reasoning. “He would know that my death could free you of the curse. But if he's the one tapped into my brain, he wouldn't want me dead. I'm too valuable a tool. You just said he thought I was his daughter. It doesn't make sense.”
“He's insane, BJ. Logic doesn't apply here. He didn't count on me being hired to help you.”
BJ stared at Brodie. She just stared while she battled the emotions threatening to drive her mad. Bewildering hurt. Defensive anger. Impossible love. Betrayal.
But who had betrayed her? Brodie? Damon? Everyone?
A morbid calm washed over her. “If Damon really is a sorcerer, then you're the one using me.”
He jerked as if she had slapped him. “No.”
“Yes.” BJ jammed her hands into the pockets of her shorts. Her emotions skittered in wild disarray, but her mind stayed lucidly sharp. “You're the one looking for vengeance. You're just like all the others who see me as an opportunity. You're using me to get to him.”
“I love you.”
She shook her head. “Damon raised me. I was a freak, a science experiment. He turned me into a human being. He accepted me for what I am. He's my family.”
“Emma and Jasmine are your family. They're the ones who truly care about you. Believe me, honey, he has been grooming you for this mental takeover from the moment he met you.”
“This is the little secret you wouldn't tell me, right? I finally figured you out, big guy.” Resolutely, she walked toward him, knowing her accusations hurt him as he had hurt her. “If Damon really is your enemy,” she taunted, “then why didn't you just get rid of him when you found out who he was? Don't you immortals chop off each other's heads and absorb the other one’s power?”
“He can only die by his own hand. Unless he's responsible for his own death, and I don’t he’s likely to commit suicide, he'll be seeking power and vengeance throughout eternity.”
BJ laughed. The crazy sound came out of her throat, but it didn't sound like her own voice. “You know, you had me believing you were immortal. I was even trying to figure out how I could release you, how I could make a sacrifice and save you. But I don't have to worry about that. You're insane. I finally fall in love with a man I think understands me and I find out he's insane.”
Brodie grabbed her, hauling her off the floor up against his chest, pinning her with hands that bit painfully into her arms. “Damn it, BJ, listen to me. I have never lied to you. I give you my word that what I'm saying is true.”
“Your word means nothing to me.” Now, she could see the monster others saw. The beautiful eyes were a lie. They weren't windows into a tortured man's soul. They were icy barriers that hid the truth. “Damon is no sorcerer. I'll prove you wrong. And then I want you out of my life.”
After a moment of pained disbelief, Brodie dropped her. She recovered her balance with as much dignity as she could muster and walked to the door.
BJ closed it behind her and nearly fainted as shock caught up with her. She could commit Brodie to an institution. She should probably commit herself.
She staggered down the hallway, bearing the weight of a pain that consumed her thoughts as completely as the mind control had. Brodie had to be wrong. He just had to be.
How could he claim to love her? How could he make her love him, and then tell her such outrageous lies? She should hate him for betraying her so, for attacking the stable foundation of her life. She should hate him with the same intensity with which she loved him. She had risked her trust. Shared her secrets. Given her heart and body to the strange giant with the distorted features and ravaged soul.
She should hate him. But she didn't. She couldn't.
She might be able to get Brodie Maxwell out of her life. But she could never get him out of her heart.
Chapter Thirteen
BJ moved through the remainder of the afternoon in a haze of pain and confusion. Brodie hovered at a protective distance, close enough to keep an eye on her, but never close enough to touch. He limited their conversation to perfunctory statements regarding where he could find her next if he needed to step out of the room.
She had hurt him badly. She could tell by the invisible barrier he’d erected around himself. He stood cold and aloof, his eyes always watching, yet revealing nothing.
BJ felt small and insignificant, even at this distance, truly a powerless pawn in a madman's cruel game. But who exactly was the madman here? Her heart screamed at her to believe in Brodie, who had comforted her, rescued her, taught her to love. But logic would not allow it.
She wanted Rick Chambers to be the only choice, not just the obvious one. Brodie claimed Damon was responsible. But she refused to accept the idea that the man she loved like a father, the man who had nurtured her so she could get out of a laboratory and into the real world, could have used her to further his own interests for thirteen years.
BJ numbed herself to the pain and concentrated her energies on purging Rick's files from LadyTech's systems. Emma stopped in on her way to pick up her daughter at the sitter's. The strain between BJ and Brodie was painfully evident, judging by Emma's worried frown. When Emma broached the subject, BJ politely excused herself on the pretext of going to dinner.
Normally, BJ didn't avoid her friends. But now she was holding herself together with a tiny, fraying thread. Discussing Brodie or Damon would force her to feel again. And feeling seemed to get her into a lot of trouble. Feeling worked against her ability to see things clearly and to wisely choose where to put her trust.
BJ's reprieve from the pain was short-lived. She escaped Emma's questions only to run into Brodie, himself, in the break room, sipping a paper cup of steaming coffee. By this time of day, the brew from the break room usually resembled primordial goo. But Brodie drank it down, unmindful of how it must burn his tongue and eat away at his insides.
BJ's first impulse was to invite him to join her for dinner and a fresh cup of coffee. He didn't take care of himself properly because he didn't think it made any difference. That was wrong. BJ started to tell him so, but caught the words on the end of her tongue. It shouldn't matter how Brodie took care of himself, not to her, anyway.
“I've purged all of Rick's files,” she said instead, struggling against the urge to bolt from the room. She spoke to one of the scars showing above the neckline of his shirt, not feeling brave enough to look Brodie in the eye. “I want to check my home files, too. I'm going to grab a candy bar to keep Emma happy. You can meet me outside and drive me home.”
“Fine.” A single word. A simple agreement. Yet the rich, rumbling tone spoke volumes. He missed her already. They stood three feet apart, but the distance between them remained unbreachable. BJ lifted her gaze to his, in time to see the icy shutters close down over the turbulent pain that must be reflected in her own eyes.
She missed him, too, but she could conceive of no way to allow him back into her life.
“I'll meet you in the parking lot in five minutes,” she said. She turned from his responding nod, fished some change out of her pocket, and selected the first candy bar she saw out of the vending machine. Without looking back, she left.
She could be making a huge mistake, alienating Brodie like this. But she shared too much history with Damon, and only a few days with Brodie. Logic dictated that she trust the former, not the latter.
Logic and brainpower had made pretty lonely companions for BJ throughout her life. Emma and Jas opened her to the possibilities of true friendship. Brodie had opened her to the possibilities of love. But the curse of genius still ruled her life. Her innate abilities had been the one constant that endured from the time of Jake's death to the present. Her IQ remained her best reliable hope for the future. It was too hard for her to take that leap of faith and trust her heart instead of her head.
Forcing her mind back to the business at hand kept the indecision at bay. She'd check her system at home for signs of tamperi
ng, and then, as her last task, she'd go over to Damon's and tell him the truth about Rick.
As BJ mentally ticked off the list of things she needed to do, another thought came to mind. She had cleaned up LadyTech's main network, but Rick could easily have rigged an independent system with more illegal transmissions of her programs. BJ would have to deactivate those as well, and the most likely place for Rick to set up such a system was in his private office.
Changing directions, she went back down the hallway to the junior executive wing and knocked on Rick's door. No one answered, so she quietly opened the door and stepped inside.
Rick's ultramodern glass and chrome office would be spotless, with every piece of furniture arranged just so. She didn't turn on the overhead light. Instead, she crossed to the desk, and flipped the switch on the lamp there.
Light flooded the room. BJ jumped back with a gasp, covering her fluttering heart with her hand. She wasn't alone. “Damn it, Rick, you scared the hell out of me. Why didn't you answer when I knocked? Do I have to call security to get you out of--?”
BJ's question faded into silence. She could tell from Rick's stark, staring eyes that he hadn't heard her knock.
She circled the desk and slowly, reluctantly, touched two fingers to the base of his neck. She shivered at the sensation of cool, damp clay, and hugged herself tightly. Not since saying good-bye to her father had she touched a dead man. From the open gape of his mouth to the horrific look in his eyes, Rick looked as though he had died right in the middle of a scream, that fear, itself, had killed him.
She saw that Rick's computer was on. No scrolling data, no words, no program. Just a single picture on the monitor. She stared at the screen with the same intensity that Rick must have just before he died.
The cursor blinked in the bottom left corner, at the lower tip of a lightning bolt encircled by a silver band.
Bile burned in BJ's throat as she backed away. One thought crowded her mind. She wanted Brodie. Despite all that had happened, her first instinct was to turn to him for safety.