by Anise Eden
The more I spoke, the graver Ben’s expression became. “I see.” Frowning, he rubbed his jaw. “I’ll be honest, Cate. I’m questioning the wisdom of you going to the lodge, now.”
“What?” I jumped, pulling my hand away from his. “What are you talking about?”
“You and Ardis agree that your mother didn’t scare easily,” he replied. “If she was so worried about exposing you to whatever Skeet and Joe were doing, there could be more to this than any of us have suspected. Maybe Pete and I should go in first and check things out.”
“Are you kidding me?” I gaped at him. “Forget it!”
Ben looked at me like I was a book written in some sort of impenetrable code. “I don’t understand why you’re objecting.”
I threw my hands up. “Because this could be my only chance to get answers!”
“That seems unlikely.” Ben’s expression turned stony. “And even if that were true, your safety is non-negotiable.”
Dammit. I knew how hard it was to reason with Ben once he’d gone into over-protective mode. I pushed off of the swing and began pacing. “Okay, look,” I said. “Let’s say you and Pete go in there and find out that something shady’s going on. Obviously, you’d have to put a stop to it somehow—and probably destroy your relationship with Skeet in the process. Am I right?”
Ben remained stoic as I wore down the floorboards. “It could play out that way, yes.”
“Well, I’m with you, now, and I’m part of the MacGregor Group,” I argued. “So if it did play out that way, Skeet certainly wouldn’t trust me anymore. He might never even speak to me again, let alone invite me back to the lodge. And whatever he had to tell me about my father’s inheritance, I’d probably hear through a lawyer.”
“That is a possibility.”
“So you see my point.”
“I do. Do you see mine?”
I stopped pacing and narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m going to the lodge, Ben.”
Ben studied me for a moment, eyes glinting. “I thought we’d agreed last week to consult with one another before making important decisions.”
My face flushed with indignation. “Yes, well, that’s obviously moot!”
“What? Why?”
“I heard you on the phone with Pete, making plans. You two have already decided you’re going to the lodge. You didn’t bother talking to me about it first. You didn’t even know whether I wanted to go!”
“Whoa, slow down.” Ben held his hand up. “You misunderstood. Yes, we worked out a plan, but I told Pete not to act on it until I’d had a chance to talk to you.”
I blinked. “Really?” Ben usually operated under the philosophy that it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission—or to just do what he thought was right and not ask for either. “You told him that?”
“Of course I did.”
A telltale muscle in his jaw twitched, betraying the effort it had taken for Ben to wait to take action until after we’d spoken. I felt a rush of affection toward him. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”
He flashed me a half-smile. “In fairness, it wasn’t exactly an unreasonable conclusion.”
“That’s true.” I smiled back.
“So let’s talk about this. As you yourself pointed out, you’re part of the MacGregor Group now. And since our trip to the lodge is a job-related activity, it falls under my purview as clinic manager.”
My eyes rolled heavenward. “How do you figure this is a job-related activity for me? I’m going to find out about my dad—an entirely personal matter.”
“True, but Skeet has an ongoing professional arrangement with the MacGregor Group, and you first came in contact with him last week at NIMH as part of our work,” Ben pointed out. “So it’s both personal and professional. That muddies the waters a bit, but it doesn’t make me any less responsible for your safety in this situation.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning, if we both go, I would be very grateful if you would agree to follow whatever security protocols I put into place while we’re there.”
While his whole “job-related” argument was absurd, at least he was asking politely for my agreement. Ben’s jaw muscle ticked again. He was making a genuine effort; I could meet him halfway. I waved my hand through the air. “No problem.”
Ben’s brow formed a straight ridge. “I mean, all of the security protocols.”
I fought back a smirk. “I got that.”
“Consistently.”
“Okay, look—”
“Cate.” My name on his lips sounded like a supplication. “Nothing can happen to you.”
I gasped sharply as suddenly, his emotions flooded into my heart—love, fear, and the certainty that if anything happened to me, it would destroy him.
The portal I’d opened to Ben was turning out to be unique. Usually, I had to focus on an individual portal to know what someone was feeling. But when I was with Ben, sometimes his emotions pushed through all on their own. This was one of those moments.
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I blinked them back. “Nothing will happen to me, I promise,” I said. “I know I haven’t always been the best at following instructions…”
With an artful arch of his brow, Ben conjured up the memory of each time over the past two weeks I’d thrown rules to the wind, usually with dire consequences. I’d put myself into cardiac arrest, then into a coma. I’d required rescuing, first from a criminal gang, then from rogue CIA thugs. And while I hadn’t meant for any of those things to happen, I knew I’d made Ben sick with worry. I felt terrible about that, but there was nothing I could do to change it now. I could only reassure him that things would be different in the future—more specifically, in the coming week.
“You don’t have to worry this time. I understand your concerns. To be honest, I’m nervous, too. But I trust that you know what to do to keep us safe. So yes, I’ll follow your protocols. All of them. Consistently.”
The silence that followed was tense and too long for my liking, but I held my nerve. Finally, Ben said, “All right, then. We’ll go together.”
I was surprised by how relieved I felt. In spite of all that had happened, Ben still had the capacity to trust me. He believed my promise—and I had meant it, every word.
I felt the impulse to thank him, but the words stuck in my craw. As glad as I was that we’d reached an agreement, I couldn’t ignore the irritation buzzing inside of me. I felt compelled to clarify something. “You get that I wasn’t asking your permission, right?”
“Yes,” he said in his cool, managerial voice. “We simply talked things through until we came to an understanding.”
“That’s right—and not because of your laughable attempt to play the ‘boss’ card.”
The gold flecks in his eyes shimmered with amusement. “Laughable, was it?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Ben took a step closer and covered my hands with his. I inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. His gaze locked onto mine, holding me in place like a tractor beam. “Would you rather be in charge?”
Whether due to the rakish tone of his voice, his general nearness, or my overactive imagination, I found myself wondering if we were still talking about our trip to the lodge. A flash fever raised my temperature a few degrees. “As it happens, I’m too tired to take charge of anything at the moment, but I’ll consider that a standing offer.”
Ben smiled broadly. “Noted.” He removed his hands from mine and splayed his fingers along either side of my waist. “Speaking of tired, we should probably go to bed. You’ve had quite a day.”
That much was true. It had been an emotional roller coaster where even the highs were lows. But after such upheaval, all I wanted was to be close to Ben—to lose myself in him, and to feel nothing for the next few hours but his kiss, his touch. He wouldn’t deny me that, would he? “It has been a really hard day,” I whispered. I slid my hands under his and twined
our fingers together. “Any chance I can spend the night in your room?”
He gripped my hands tightly and slid them around to the small of my back. As his eyes searched mine, the smile left his face. “There’s nothing I would love more than to take you back to my room and distract you from all of this for a while, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I swallowed, wide-eyed. Was he actually considering…?
“You have no idea how much I want that, Cate,” he murmured. “But you know the program rules, and I have a feeling that if you came with me right now, we wouldn’t be able to follow them for very long.”
Frustration shot up through my body like a scalding geyser. “Goddamned rules!” Until I finished my internship with the MacGregor Group, I wasn’t allowed to do certain things, such as eat red meat, drink alcohol—or have sex. Apparently, doing so would muck up my energetic aura and render me useless for certain rituals and training exercises. It had been hard enough for me to agree to follow those rules at the beginning of the program, just on principle. But the closer Ben and I became, the more oppressive the restrictions seemed. “Don’t I even get a goodnight ki—”
Ben’s lips on mine were firm, but gently apologetic. When he drew away, the intensity in his eyes showed without a doubt that he was telling the truth. He wanted more too. But clearly, nothing more was going to happen—not that night, at least. I sighed, turned on my heel, and headed for the screen door.
Ben beat me to it, opening the door for me. I did my best to act pulled together as I strode back into the house. He gestured for me to go up the stairs ahead of him, which I did—then blushed as I felt his eyes on me and imagined the view he must be getting as we climbed. I paused at the top of the stairs, having forgotten which room was mine.
“This way,” Ben said, leading me to a familiar-looking door. “They serve breakfast at nine thirty. Do you want me to wake you at any particular time?”
“No,” I grumped, turning away from him and putting my hand on the doorknob. “I’ll set the alarm on my phone.”
“All right then.”
I wanted to reach out for one more touch, one more kiss, but I couldn’t see Ben’s expression in the dark, and I didn’t want to face another rejection. I forced myself to step inside of my room as Ben whispered, “Goodnight, Trouble.”
I almost smiled. “Goodnight,” I whispered back, shutting the door quietly so as not to wake Ardis.
I leaned back against the door, mourning the loss of Ben’s presence. I had a sinking feeling that this last week of training would be the longest week of my life.
Chapter Seven
ParaTrain Internship, Day Seven
Skeet had been right about one thing: the compound was well hidden. After turning off the main road at the sign for Mercier Lodge, we drove for more than a mile down a narrow private lane flanked on both sides by an endless forest of loblolly pines. Just when I began to wonder if there was anything there at all, the road ended at a circular driveway. Ben pulled over, saying that he wanted to take a look around and get his bearings.
When Skeet had described the lodge, I’d imagined a few cozy log cabins and modest outbuildings. Instead, I found myself gaping at the type of luxury sporting resort they’d feature on the TV show Mega Mansions.
We got out of the car and stood at the mouth of a sizeable clearing. The circular driveway alone must have covered an acre of land. Directly across from us was a building that appeared to be the main lodge. At its center, there was a vaulted entrance about four stories high, with three-story buildings stretching out on either side. Around the driveway stood four other buildings, each about half the size of the lodge. They were all Adirondack-style wood constructions, and about as upscale as they could be while still maintaining a rustic feel. Someone had clearly put a lot of thought into creating a getaway for people who were used to the finer things, but that also felt a world away from the city, blending into the natural environment.
On the other side of the lodge, I caught sight of a body of water, and a pier where a few skiffs were docked. Several other driveways led off of the circular one, winding away into the forest. I didn’t see any other cars or a parking lot.
“Good grief,” I whispered. “What is this place?”
“It’s impressive,” Ben said. “There are quite a few places like this tucked away around here, built for the D.C. crowd.”
I scanned the clearing again, inhaling the sharp scents of the water and the pine trees. If we had to spend the week getting answers about Skeet, his research, and my father, at least we’d be doing it in a breathtaking setting.
“Cate! Ben!” The voice came from the lodge. Skeet had stepped out from the main entrance and was waving to us. “Over here!”
We got back into the Jag. Ben turned to me and took my hand, giving it a brief squeeze. “You ready for this?”
I didn’t feel ready—but I also didn’t feel that I had much of a choice. I forced myself to smile gamely. “Absolutely.”
Ben shook his head. “I hope you only play poker online,” he said as he shifted the car into gear.
I decided not to mention that I had played poker in person, since it had been strip poker with my friend Sid, back when he was a friend-with-benefits. Ben and Sid had met the previous week after Sid became involved in our mission, and their interactions so far had been nothing but positive. I certainly didn’t want to rock that boat. I turned to look at Skeet so that nothing in my expression would invite further conversation on the subject.
There was a gentle crunching sound as the tires rolled over the driveway of crushed oyster shells. Skeet beamed at us as we pulled up to the wide staircase in front of the entrance to the main lodge. Two young men appeared out of nowhere, dressed in white button-down shirts and khakis. One of them got our bags out of the car, and the other took the keys from Ben and drove the Jag away.
“Don’t worry, he’ll take good care of it,” Skeet reassured Ben. “I’ll show you the garage when we take our tour of the grounds. Welcome to Mercier! I’m glad you could come.”
My eyes couldn’t stop roaming around as Ben and I navigated our way up the wide staircase and joined Skeet on the porch. The whole building was made of different types of wood, ranging in color from nearly black to deep red to light gray, each piece fitted together with flawless artistry. The floor was smooth, but the columns holding up the roof were made of trees left in their natural shapes, with rough bark and branches splaying upwards. Every surface had been treated with something that gave the wood a soft shine. As far as I was concerned, the lodge could have been a palace for wood nymphs in some kind of fairy tale.
As I took everything in, Skeet and Ben exchanged a brief handshake. I was used to dressing casually, but it was still an adjustment to see the two of them out of their usual business uniforms. Ben seemed just as comfortable in his worn jeans, Marine Corps T-shirt, and work boots as he normally did in his business suits. Skeet, on the other hand, had appeared much more at home in his lab coat than he did in his chamois shirt and chinos.
“Yes, I’m pleased we were able to work it out,” Ben said. “Two of our crew are coming tomorrow, the rest on Tuesday.”
“Great!” Skeet clapped his hands together. “Well, come on in!”
We followed him into a huge, circular foyer, where a wood sculpture of a deer dominated the center. More natural tree posts held up the vaulted ceiling, and the walls were decorated with hunting trophies—everything from ducks and geese made to look as though they were still in flight, to deer heads mounted on plaques. Even though the room had a rare beauty and bright sun filtered in through skylights, it felt oppressive to me—heavy with reminders of death. I was grateful when Ben slid his arm around my waist. He always seemed to know when I needed a physical reminder of his presence. I rested my hand atop his.
“This is the front desk,” Skeet said, pointing to a recessed space in the wall by the door occupied by two more young people. They looked up from their computers to give us a
wave. “Just let them know if you need anything at all.”
“Thanks,” Ben said. He appeared completely at ease, as though it was his normal weekend routine to visit eye-popping sporting resorts. But with his arm around me, I could feel a familiar tautness in his body. I knew he was on high alert and ready for anything, though he was doing a fantastic job of hiding it. Meanwhile, I was certain I looked like a gaping tourist.
Skeet pointed out various hallways leading off of the foyer. “These two lead to the residential wings. Your rooms are on the south side,” he said, handing us key cards with our room numbers on them. “That opening in the back goes to the boathouse and pier. And the last two hallways go to the dining room and the conference wing. I’d like to take you on the grand tour, but why don’t we get a cup of coffee first? Cate, you look like you could use one.”
He gave me a friendly wink, presumably to reassure me that he wasn’t mocking my incredulous reaction to the place. I picked my jaw up off of the floor and smiled. “I never turn down a cup of coffee.”
Ben’s arm squeezed me lightly. “Sounds good.”
“This way.” Skeet led us down a wide hallway, with arrangements of leather chairs and coffee tables on one side. The opposite wall was covered with photographs of people posing with the deer or wildfowl they’d killed, or holding up the fish they’d caught. I glanced at the photos as we walked by, wondering if my father was in any of the pictures.
The dining room was another sumptuous feast of wood colors and textures. Everything, including the tables and chairs, was meticulously designed with both style and comfort in mind. One entire wall was a window overlooking the water.
Another staff member appeared out of nowhere and led us to the table with the best view. Skeet murmured something to her, and she disappeared. Then he took in the water with a sweep of his hand. “And this is Mercier Cove. It leads out to Broad Creek, and from there you can reach the bay.”