by Lynne Silver
“No, this works.”
“Let’s get some sheets on it.” He opened a low dresser drawer and pulled out his one extra sheet to toss on the bed. He and Jill needed a Target run. Living as a bachelor soldier, he didn’t have extra sheets, towels, and other housewares that most women seemed to like. Right now Jill seemed happy to simply have a safe place to rest her head, but he didn’t want her to have to settle. She deserved as attractive a house as she’d been living in.
While most of his time in rural Virginia had been spent beating Jack, he had managed to get a glimpse through some of the windows at Jill’s house. She’d had a nice home. It’d been clean, with decorative touches he assumed were her doing. Jack didn’t seem the type to coordinate a lampshade with the couch.
Once Jill’s bed situation was settled, he headed for the bathroom to change and wash up. His lingering arousal hung close to the surface and he hoped he’d be able to sleep tonight. Jill’s presence on the next bed over wouldn’t help his peace of mind. Oh well, if he couldn’t sleep, he could hit the gym. He wouldn’t be alone. A lot of the insomniacs here spent the wee hours working out.
“Good night, Rowan.” Jill was settled into bed with her silky light–brown hair fanned out behind her head.
“Night.” He climbed under his own covers, which were crumpled from their earlier kiss. His nose told him it was still smelling Jill’s hair product on his pillow, but he knew that to be a lie since her head hadn’t touched his pillow.
He lay on his back staring at the dark ceiling. He should be tired. It had been a long day, but his body and brain still buzzed from his earlier fight with Jack and his kiss with Jill. Unfortunately he didn’t see sleep in his near future.
“Rowan?” Jill whispered from her bed.
“Yeah?”
“Will you tell me about your mother?”
“My mom?”
“Yes. I’m not tired any more, and the way you spoke about your mom’s picture made me realize I don’t know anything about you except you have a brother.”
“What do you want to know?”
Everything, Jill suddenly realized, but she couldn’t say that. He was probably tired from his long day defending her, and it revealed too much. What did it say about her as a person that she’d gone from wife of one man to totally and completely enthralled by another? “Well, we’re sharing a room for the foreseeable future, and I don’t know much more than your name or your occupation. Actually, I don’t even really know that. Are you a soldier?”
She heard rather than saw Rowan roll over to face her. She followed suit. It felt intimate, almost as if they were sharing the bed, but they both knew a one–foot gap divided them. When Rowan stayed silent, she worried she’d offended him in some way. Maybe he couldn’t be a soldier since he was missing an arm, but to her he seemed invincibly strong. “Rowan?” she whispered. “I’m sorry. You can go to sleep. I don’t need to know anything right now.”
“Nah, it’s okay. I was just thinking of where to start.”
“The beginning?” she suggested and earned a chuckle from his side of the room.
“All right. The beginning it is. I was born here in 1986. Here being The Program compound. But something happened between my mom and dad—you haven’t met him yet, but he lives here still—and my mom ran away taking me and Adam with her.”
“What happened?” She leaned on her elbow to get closer.
“Me. I’m what happened.” He gave a bitter laugh. “When I was born minus an arm, my mom got wind that The Program was going to make her put me up for adoption and that my dad was okay with that.”
She sucked back a gasp. “That’s horrible.”
“Hang on, let me finish talking before you decide everyone here is evil.”
It was as if he were reading her mind, since that was exactly what she’d been thinking.
“Turns out, only one person wanted me outta here. Bad guy named Keel. He’s gone now. Dead. Anyway, this Keel guy sent my dad on an overseas mission right after I was born and played a head game with my mom. He was good at his lies, and she believed him. I was only a few weeks old when she disappeared into DC with me and Adam. He was two.”
“What happened? Did your dad come looking for you?”
“Sort of. See, Keel played a head game with him, too. Made up all sorts of bullshit that my dad believed, and remember, things were different. It was easier to hide. My mom never got a credit card, never bought a house. We lived paycheck to paycheck in one of the poorest neighborhoods in the city. Dad never found her, and he was convinced she didn’t want to be found.”
She identified with that sentiment all too well. “Did you know?”
“Know what? That I was a genetically enhanced human?”
“Know about your family,” she said, clarifying.
“I knew nothing. Mom always said our dad had died. When Adam was fifteen she told him the truth and he ran from home to live here at The Program.”
“And then your mom told you when you were a teenager,” she guessed.
She saw Rowan sit up and lean back against the wall. “No. It’s an even longer story,” he said. “I knew nothing about my family or The Program until a few months ago.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I was totally ignorant about everything until this summer when Adam brought Loren to meet me and the whole truth came out.”
“Oh my God. You must have been…shocked. And angry. Have you forgiven Adam for keeping it a secret?”
He turned his gaze to her. “Most days.”
“And your mom? You said she died?”
“Mom died when I was sixteen. She died not knowing Dad still loved her and that he’d never wanted to send us away.”
They both fell silent thinking about the sad story that was Rowan’s life. If she had to estimate, she’d say he’d had it worse than her. She couldn’t imagine living her whole life thinking her father were dead only to discover he was alive. It was so sad. She climbed off the air mattress and stepped to Rowan’s bed. “Rowan?”
He looked up at her. “What’re you doing out of bed?”
“You need a hug. Heck, I need a hug.”
“Happy to oblige. C’mere.” He lifted his arm, welcoming her into his embrace. It felt like coming home. Even though he only had one arm wrapped around her body, the hug felt complete, whole. They clung to each other, and she buried her face in his shirt, wetting it with her sympathetic tears.
He pushed her off him and brushed at her cheeks. “Hey, no tears. It’s all a happy ending now.”
“Is it?” she said with a sniffle. “Maybe it could’ve been, but I’ve come barging in possibly messing it all up.”
“What are you talking about?” He shifted, scooting his body down the bed making their hug more into a lying down embrace. She froze against his body for a minute then relaxed.
“Rowan did you have a choice about matching?”
His hand rubbed a pattern over her back. “Yeah, soldiers here are given a choice.” The comforter was too thick a barrier between them. She wanted to feel his body against hers.
“So you chose to be matched?” she pressed.
His hand paused for a second, then resumed its exploration of her back. “Yeah. I asked to be matched,” he said.
“Does everyone want to be matched?”
He hesitated. “Uh, not sure. Remember, I’m fairly new here.”
There was something he wasn’t telling her, but she couldn’t imagine what it was. “Why did you want to be matched? Was it because you wanted kids?”
“Sure. I want kids someday.”
“Someday? Then why ask to be matched now?”
His wide chest expanded and contracted under her cheek. His soft worn gray T–shirt brushed her skin. “I think we should go to sleep.” He tried to gently roll her off him, but she kept her arms around his neck. Then she realized what she’d done, and quickly backed off to her own bed.
She wasn’t expecting Rowan to pluck he
r up from the bed using his arm and body to tug her back into his bed. She yelped. “What are you doing?”
“Why did you jump off me?” He didn’t sound angry, only curious.
“You said it was time for bed.”
“And you always follow orders?”
She hesitated.
“You didn’t want to leave my bed. I felt your arms hook on. So why’d you jump out so fast?”
Her lips locked.
“Jill?”
The gentleness in his question gave her the courage to answer. “I was scared,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to challenge you.”
He was silent at her answer, and then he blew out a breath. “Trust, baby. I can’t order it, but you’ll get there. Challenge me all you want. I will never physically hurt you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s going to take a while.”
“I know. Take all the time you need.”
“I’ll try, but…”
“But what?”
“You sounded annoyed. Like you didn’t want to talk anymore. I didn’t want to push.”
His hand caressed her cheek, and she rubbed against him like a cat.
“You can push me, Jill. I’ll try not to push back too hard at first, but we’re living together. For all intents and purposes, we are matched now. Maybe we should fake it till we make it.”
“Do you think we could make it? You think we could be a match?” She was startled by how much she suddenly wanted that. When she’d stumbled on her crazy plan all those weeks ago, she’d seen only the safety The Program offered. She’d never thought about the real men behind the name. Rowan was quickly becoming very real to her.
“We could be a match. You in my bed? Never felt nothing better.”
“But we’re not doing anything. We’re just cuddling.” She and Jack had never snuggled in bed talking. They’d come together on the mattress for quick sex, then retreated to their own sides.
“It’s all a precursor, baby. Don’t want to frighten you, but I’m ready for doing a lot more than snuggling right now. But no hurry. We take things slow. When you’re ready, we move forward.”
It took her a minute to process his words, and then daringly, she shifted her hips and felt the hard evidence of his arousal against her body. An unfamiliar liquid heaviness melted throughout her body, and then she recognized it. Arousal. It was how she felt in high school during heated make out sessions in Jack’s car. She shifted again.
Rowan groaned. “Jill. Stop wiggling. You’re not ready.”
She wanted to argue, then realized he was right. She’d been out of her bad marriage less than three days. Sex with Rowan would be a very bad idea. “You’re right. I’ll go back to my bed now.” She slid out of the bed, accidentally brushing his swollen penis on her way out. His agonized moan thrilled her. For so long she’d been a beaten down creature, not a woman men would desire. She didn’t mistake Jack’s obsession with her for desire. It was desire for control, not about her as a sexual creature. Rowan wanted her as a man wanted a woman, and it was heady stuff.
Chapter Five
Jack tried to ignore the knock at his door. Last night’s knock hadn’t brought anything good. But who the hell knew? Maybe it was Jill. Back to apologize. He’d fucking make her grovel. The knock sounded louder and more insistent. Shit, he’d have to force his sore body off the couch, where he’d stayed last night, and over the ten steps to the front door.
Another knock sounded just as he reached the door an excruciating forty seconds later. He didn’t bother looking in the peephole. No one could be worse than last night’s attackers. And if it was someone worse, well, hell, he felt half–dead anyway. With a muttered curse, he threw open the door and faced down the strangest sons–of–bitches he’d ever seen. “It ain’t Halloween,” he blurted.
Two tall men stood in his doorway. At first glance, he thought they were twins. But a second look revealed they were trying to look identical. Large black cowboy hats covered their shaved heads and created shadows down to their chins. Obviously fake bushy black mustaches dangled below their noses and halfway over their upper lips. Huge sunglasses covered anything else of their faces that could’ve been used as an identifier. “Jack Thompson?” one man asked. “May we come in?”
They didn’t wait for his invitation and brushed past him to sit on the couch. They sat stiffly side by side waiting for him to shut the front door and acknowledge them. It took him a minute, but finally, after peering outside at the white Ford F150 waiting in his driveway, he backed into his house and approached his guests. “Who the fuck are you?” And Jilly said he had the manners of a pig. Look at him being perfectly hospitable. He hadn’t shot them yet, right?
“We’re your new best friends, Jack,” one man said.
He eyed them sitting on his couch like they owned the joint. “Keep talking.” It hurt like hell to stand upright with his bruised ribs, but he refused to show weakness in front of these strangers, despite their assertions that they were his friends. “Who the fuck are you?”
“We are members of an organization known as the Messianic Militia.”
Oh. Right–wing religious fanatics. He was about to kick them out, when they spoke again.
“We know where your wife is.”
That got his attention, but he pretended not to give a shit. He’d sat up all night nursing his injuries with an ice pack and a beer, wondering how the hell his wife had hired a lawyer and two thugs to beat him up. “That whore. Who cares?”
Both men stood. “If you don’t want her back, then we’ll be on our way.”
“Wait.” He backpedaled to the door, blocking their exit. “I didn’t say I didn’t want her back. Have a seat.” He gestured to the couch, inhaling at the pain caused by the movement.
When the two men were seated, he dragged over a dining room chair and sat facing them. “Where’s my wife?”
“Before we tell you, you need to understand that what we say is confidential. If you share the details of this meeting, you will regret it.”
He was already starting to regret it, but he wanted his wife back. How could she leave him? They loved each other. He said nothing and waited for them to speak.
“Your wife is with The Program.” They paused, letting the news sink in.
It took him a second to process what they’d said. Then—“What the fuck are you talking about?”
One of the men leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Mr. Thompson, ever since the news of The Program hit the public, we’ve been monitoring them. We are part of an organization that believes the government made a huge mistake and tried to play God. We intend to rectify their mistake.”
Jack eyed them. “Rectify it, how?”
“That is not your concern. Your concern is your wife. Your wife, who may now be forced into having sexual relations with an abomination. They’re forcing her to commit adultery.”
He shook his head. “No, not Jilly. She wouldn’t do that. You’re right; she’s being forced. She’s got to be.”
One of the men reached into his briefcase and pulled out a sleek–looking tablet. After a few finger swipes, he swiveled the screen to show Jack. Pictures of Jill standing at a gate were clear. “These are the surveillance photos from the men we have on the ground watching the facility. “She walked there of her own volition, but after that we have no intel.”
He didn’t know what volition meant, but he didn’t fucking believe the woman he’d known since she was fifteen would leave him and go to those Goddamn mutations of soldiers.
The two strangers gauged his reaction and his silence, giving him a minute to process, then they laid out their plan. “We believe your wife will be the key to our plan. We’ve been trying unsuccessfully to get a mole onto the campus.”
“None of our volunteer women have been matches for them,” the other man said. “Your wife must be a match and that’s why she’s on campus now.”
“But she’s married,” Jack said, finally finding
his voice. “To me. How can they take a married woman?”
“Exactly,” both men said in unison.
“We’re going to help retrieve her from them, and when she’s safely back with you, she can give us the information we need to infiltrate the campus and shut it down.”
“I’m in,” Jack said, not needing to hear anymore. How dare they take his wife from him? He’d hated The Program from the first moment he heard about them on the news. And now they were breaking up marriages? Enough was enough. “What do I have to do?”
All three men leaned their heads together. “It’s simple. You’re going to the press to raise holy hell that your wife’s been brainwashed and kidnapped. We’ll take care of the rest.”
* * * * *
Two weeks later
“Jill, get out here. We need you.”
Jill looked up from the book she’d been reading, while curled on Rowan’s bed. Another knock sounded.
“We know you’re in there, Jill. Come out, or we’re coming in.” A British voice. Emma.
“I’m coming,” she called. She stuck a playing card into the page she’d been reading and placed the book on the nightstand. Rowan had been bringing her crates of romance novels to keep her occupied for the past few weeks. She’d never read one before but was now addicted.
“There you are.” Emma grinned at her. “We were beginning to suspect Rowan had gone Rochester on us and hidden you in an attic.”
She blinked at Emma and tried to place the reference without luck.
“Jane Eyre,” Emma said, supplying the answer at Jill’s blank look. “You Yanks never get me.”
“I think I read that book. Ten years ago,” Jill said.
“Oh, I’ve never actually read the bloody thing,” Emma said with a laugh. She turned to the other woman next to her. “Put it on the list for next girl’s movie night. Michael Fassbender.” She curled her fingers into claws. “Rawr.”
“Come on. We need to get to work,” the other woman said with a hand on the slightly pregnant curve of her belly.