She sank slowly to the bed and wrapped her arms around her as a cold chill went through her.
Collin! Collin was gone for good. She’d known this deep down, but somehow she’d been able to deny the reality until now.
Trake looked at the anguish in Faith’s face as the truth hit her. He couldn’t help but sympathize with her pain for a young boy he’d never even met. All that mattered to Trake was that she loved Collin, and Collin was important to her.
Faith sat on her bed with her head resting on her palm as her tears fell silently. He wanted to hold her close and comfort her, but he would be too distracted by her thin robe and soft, lush body. He could sympathize with her, but he couldn’t feel anything like the emotions she was experiencing.
Anger slowly washed over him as he considered how the corrupt monarchy had caused this. The Resistance wouldn’t exist if the monarchy didn’t treat the non-aristocracy like animals. The only thing the people wanted was equality, but the normal response from the aristocracy was, if they don’t like it, they can live somewhere else. The leaders of New D.C. actually believed they had the right to treat anyone they thought as inferior any way they wanted.
Faith might not really care for him, but he knew he loved her. She’d never hurt him, not really, and he could fight for her. He could be her champion.
Yes, he was a killer, but if he fought for her, he could live with that fact about himself. “I’ll get him out,” he said, causing Faith to look up startled, her cheeks pale and wet.
“No! I can’t lose you too!”
Trake was surprised at the use of her word too. Hadn’t she just said she’d used her special skill to be with him earlier? He must have read more into what he’d heard because of what he felt for her.
He was reminded of another woman he’d fought for—Deja—and that fateful day in military school. He’d kissed her, professing his love for her, and she’d never seemed so fragile before, nor since, as she gently let him down by telling him the truth about her preferences.
He’d held out hope for years afterward that she could learn to love him as he loved her, but that had been over a decade in the past. He’d fully let go years ago, and he’d allowed her to continue using him as a cover only because he’d never found another woman he could truly love…until Faith.
“Don’t worry. I’m a killer, remember?”
Chapter Four
“Trake, promise me you won’t do it,” Faith pleaded.
“It doesn’t matter. I told you. I’m leaving D.C. anyway.” His voice fell into his trained military cadence, making him sound cold, which was contrary to how he truly felt.
Faith buried her face in her hands as tears leaked between her fingers, and Trake couldn’t stop himself from sitting next to her and taking her in his arms.
“Oh God, I’m normally not like this,” she cried. “I’m so sorry you have to see me like this.”
“Shhh, it’s okay. I understand how upsetting it is about Collin.”
“It’s not just Collin. It’s too m-much…” She lifted her face to meet his gaze. “I’m going to lose you too.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face into his neck and her breasts into his chest.
His heart opened to her vulnerability, while at the same time he fought for control over his erection. He didn’t want to leave her either. What he wanted was for her to go with him. But where? The hills? The truth was he really didn’t have a plan. Even if he did, how could he ask her to give up her life and follow him when he couldn’t ensure a positive outcome?
“I can think of no other solution,” he said, barely audible with his face pressed into her thick blonde locks.
She clutched him so tightly she almost choked him, but he didn’t want her to ever let go. He wanted to savor every moment. The way things were going, it could be the last time he saw her. That thought made his stomach clench.
To his great disappointment, she broke away from their embrace.
“I can’t let you do it. I know you must go, but you can’t break into the detention camp. That’s suicide!”
He’d never seen such sadness in a person’s eyes before, and a part of him was gratified that someone cared so deeply about his welfare. Not just someone, this was Faith, the woman who’d captured his heart.
“Trake…I love you.” The tension in her body eased as if she’d released a pressure valve, while her eyes seemed to search his, but he was shocked into silence by her sudden confession.
“I don’t want anything. I just needed you to know,” she quickly added.
He gazed at her, unable to respond. Had she just said the words he’d been thinking himself? All his previous plans were mentally discarded, and as he had been trained, the situation was reevaluated.
The first thought in his head was that he needed to answer her. However, his mouth wouldn’t open because responding with the words he wanted to could start an unstoppable chain reaction that would put her in danger. He knew he loved her; he had for a long time. However, because he did love her, he wouldn’t hurt her just to have her. Not that he could have her anyway. The situation they were in was frigging impossible.
His very soul had been so poisoned by New Washington, D.C., he was willing to do anything, even risk death, to cleanse himself of it. Rescuing her brother was a suicide mission that would still be a more honorable death than swallowing his service blaster. That plan, he had to admit, had some serious holes.
What would he do with Collin if he did succeed in getting him out? The boy would have to go live in the hills with the Resistance too; there was no returning to D.C. for him either. What of Faith? She lost her brother either way. Would she want to go to the hills to be with Collin?
Faith looked away, disappointment darkening her eyes. He knew he had to say something, but the feeling in his gut that he was about to go on a suicide mission prevented him from saying the words she surely wanted to hear in response to her declaration of love.
“I’m sorry,” he offered lamely.
Faith stood and silently walked to her small kitchenette. Taking a water bulb, she bit open the suction tube and gulped the contents down. She wasn’t doing a good job of hiding her displeasure, and he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Faith, I’ll do anything for you, you know?”
She slowly crushed the empty water bulb in her hand, and it dissolved into a fine powder. She wiped her hands together as the remnants disappeared into the air and looked at Trake with weary eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Neither do I. He took a tired breath. Life was too short. “I love you too,” he admitted.
She didn’t respond immediately, but rather gazed at him with a worn expression. “Do you?” she finally asked.
“Yes.” He walked toward her.
She stiffened as if she wanted to stop him, but then relaxed as if resigned.
He stood before her. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, surprising himself that he’d spoken his thought out loud.
She gave him an apprehensive smile, and he answered it with a reassuring one of his own. Then he leaned down to cover her mouth with his. She responded eagerly, passionately answering his kiss.
The door chime made a rapid beeping sound. Startled, they broke apart. Catching the worry in Faith’s eyes, Trake knew she recognized the sound of an emergency override. His hand automatically touched his leg to reach for his service weapon, but he stopped himself. He had to evaluate the situation before he acted; however, there was no time to think.
They were still in each other’s arms when the door slid open, revealing two armed Special Forces soldiers with their fingers on the triggers of the rifles they aimed at Trake and Faith.
“Hands where we can see them!” the two soldiers yelled in practiced unison.
Faith’s hands immediately shot up. Trake took a bit longer as he smoothly raised his hands halfway as he scanned the situation. Behind the two soldiers, an investigator studied the flimsies in his hand.
When he glanced up, his face turned ashen, probably not expecting to find an Aristo, especially one who was Deputy Director of Military Transportation, in the home of a suspected Resistance member.
You better tread carefully, Mr. Investigator. When dealing with Aristos, the investigators were usually the ones who got in trouble, even when an Aristo was caught red-handed. Aristos took care of their own. The only time they went down was when the powers that be wanted them to go down.
“Ahhh, sorry to interrupt,” the investigator said, pointing at the flimsies now clutched tightly in his hand as he entered the small room.
The door silently closed, and the soldiers took up positions on either side of the entryway, rifles at the ready.
“Director Forrester, I am Investigator Kelviant Van Owen…sorry to interrupt,” he repeated.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” Trake said, slowly lowering his hands.
Investigator Van Owen glanced at the unmoving soldiers as if debating whether to order Trake to raise his hands again. “Well, Director…may I call you Trake?” Van Owen asked with a nod and an open palm gesture.
“No, you may not,” Trake answered evenly.
Van Owen sighed and slowly paced the small kitchenette. “It appears there was an unauthorized use of Director Deja Cain’s access code,” he began.
“What does that have to do with me…or Faith?” Trake asked, carefully tracking Van Owen with his eyes as he grabbed Faith’s hands and firmly brought them down to her sides.
“Two things.” Van Owen held up two fingers. “One, Director Cain paid for a ground car leaving your office before the access.” He let the undeniable evidence sit in the room for a beat.
“And two,” he said, looking Trake directly in the eyes. “The access was to search for Faith’s brother Collin…but I’m sure you knew nothing of this major crime, Director,” he quickly added as if to cover his ass.
Before Trake could respond, Faith blurted out, “Of course, he didn’t!”
Trake looked at her sharply and slowly shook his head.
Van Owen strode over and studied her closely. He started to grab for her but seemed to reconsider, his fist clutching empty air. “We need to talk about this at the station,” he said, searching Faith with his intense gaze.
Trake wanted to punch the investigator in the face, so he’d stop ogling Faith. The man’s leer implied he knew of her history as an escort, but she was a genuine secretary now. She wasn’t an untrained woman sleeping with her boss to improve her position.
“Yes, let’s all go to the station,” Trake said, taking the investigator by surprise.
Van Owen quickly turned his gaze to Trake. “Oh, I don’t think we need to inconvenience you any more, Director.” He gave a fake smile of reassurance. “I’ll escort Ms. Daniels, freeing you to return to your business.”
“I’ll escort Ms. Daniels,” Trake affirmed.
Van Owen shrugged and motioned to the door with a sweeping hand motion.
As Trake approached the exit, he stopped to palm the opening. Then he struck.
He spun one guard, using the man’s body to provide a shield for himself. Then he pulled his small blaster from his leg holster and shot the weapon out of the hand of the second guard who’d had his rifle pointed at his companion, unable to get a clear shot at Trake.
Trake pushed the guard he was holding forward and stunned him in his back. Then Trake turned his blaster on the investigator…who was holding his weapon to Faith’s head.
“Drop the gun, Director,” Van Owen said calmly.
* * * *
Faith stepped onto the gravel-covered expanse of the intake yard of Sector Interment Camp Fourteen. The events at her apartment had inevitably brought her here. Trake had immediately surrendered when the inspector had threatened her life. Backup had quickly arrived for the soldiers, and she and Trake had been separated.
The camp appeared to be a quarter mile square with dozens of one-story barracks spread across its grounds. Faith was surprised it was surrounded by a simple chain-link fence patrolled by only a few guards that she could see.
She noticed there were a lot of barracks, which must have meant there were a lot of prisoners. As Trake had said earlier, the prisoners could just overwhelm the guards and walk out if they did it all at once. However, they were probably scared like her, since this camp was apparently only for the non-violent and political prisoners.
Tears fell down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away because she didn’t know what she would be facing next.
And she quickly learned the next ordeal was the processing of the new prisoners.
“Arms up,” a chubby, light-skinned guard with the nametag Lyna said as she motioned with the water sprayer she was holding. She attempted to look dispassionate, but Faith noticed the guard’s gaze lingered a bit too long on the two naked bodies before her.
Faith’s other companion was a dark-skinned Aristo who had introduced herself as Gelly. She enjoyed talking as if Lyna wasn’t in the room.
“My parents are trying to teach me a lesson,” she said as she raised her hands slowly. She completely outranked the light-skinned Lyna, and both of them knew it. Gelly was pure Aristo with model-like features, but lacking the poise of Deja.
“They really hate that I talk to the immigrants, like you,” she continued to say to a bewildered Faith as Lyna’s hose sprayed cold water over them. In the age of cloud showers, an alcohol-based mist that sanitized and dried quickly, water to clean the prisoners was totally unnecessary…unless humiliation was the goal.
“They won’t make me stay in here longer than an hour. The damage to the family’s reputation can’t stand more than that,” Gelly said.
Faith started to ask what Gelly was in the camp for, but a violent blast of water filled her mouth and pushed her face to the side. Faith lowered her hands to regain her balance.
“Put your hands back up, girl!” Lyna called out in a bored voice as she sprayed the water over the women.
Gelly lowered her arm, reaching out to Faith’s waist to steady her. When Faith was firmly back on her feet, Gelly slid her hand down to Faith’s butt and gave it a quick squeeze.
“Turn around!” Lyna called out.
“I guess they don’t have to pay her to do this stupid job,” Gelly said as they turned.
Lyna focused the water spray on their behinds. “Bend over and open them up, ladies!” she called out, her growing excitement evident in her voice.
An inner heat rose in Faith as she reached around and spread her butt cheeks. She gasped as the hard cold-water spray was directed at her. She looked at Gelly who smiled back at her as if she were enjoying it, but this wasn’t another exciting adventure for Faith. This was life or death. Lyna might be useful to Faith, and this could be the only chance she got to take advantage.
“Ahhh,” Faith called out as if she were enjoying the water up her ass.
“You little slut!” Gelly said to her over the sound of the spray. “I love you!”
“Take me home with you!” Faith playfully responded.
Lyna stopped the water jet abruptly. “Get dressed,” she ordered.
Faith and Gelly slowly stood and turned around. Faith threw back her wet hair and gazed at Lyna with hooded eyes.
The guard shifted from one foot to the other as if she were flustered, or more likely, aroused.
Faith concentrated on the desire Lyna wasn’t hiding very well and fed on it as she let it wash over her.
Gelly walked over to the table holding the simple one-piece smocks and granny underwear that comprised their new clothing. Faith didn’t follow. She rested the heel of one foot against the ankle of the other and waited.
Lyna finally looked at her. “Are you hard of hearing? I said get dressed!”
Faith didn’t immediately respond, letting the moment drag out for a few more heartbeats. “You call that a strip search? That only tickled,” she replied in a low voice.
Gelly
paused while adjusting her smock and glanced at Faith. Shaking her head, she turned and exited, leaving Faith alone with the guard in the showers.
Lyna ignored Faith’s taunt, turned, and bent over as she wrapped the water hose around its holder. Her large breasts swayed beneath her uniform with her effort. With her back still to Faith, she straightened and stared at the wall for a second before turning around to face Faith. “What do you want?”
“For you to finish what you started,” Faith replied in a softer, higher pitch than her usual voice. She placed the tip of her pinky between her lips and gazed back at Lyna.
“I mean, what do you want?” Lyna demanded.
Faith removed her finger from her mouth and considered her options. She might be able to escape. She knew she would at least try, but she needed to find out about her brother and Trake. Without them, what was the point?
“I have a brother here, Collin Daniels,” Faith said. Then she added, “And I also want to know about an Aristo I was picked up with named Trake Forrester.”
“Is that it?” Lyna asked.
Faith considered the guard for a moment. Lyna was clearly a mix of Aristo and white. Her thin short hair framed her round face. Of course, her Aristo parent would never acknowledge her. Faith wondered if her white parent did either.
“Yes, that’s all,” Faith answered, standing naked before Lyna, water dripping from her breasts and running down her body between her legs.
Lyna took her time studying Faith’s curvy form.
Aaaand sold! Faith thought to herself as Lyna nodded her head.
“I can do that,” Lyna said.
* * * *
In the women’s barracks, Faith took the blanket and pillow she had been issued and sat on her assigned bed. She tried not to look scared as she glanced around the long, open dorm room that was crowded with over a hundred female prisoners. Dorm room W8 had metal bunk beds evenly spaced with open toilet stalls at either end.
There were no guards present…and it was practically a zoo. Groups of women lounged, walked around and fought. Most eyes had tracked her as she’d walked in.
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