Annie sighed. “I hope you’re right. I hope we’re all not being naïve about her.” Ben didn’t miss the way she enunciated “her,” and it made him roll his eyes. “Your girls are delightful, as always. They were both a little worked up about why they weren’t going home. Daphne, in particular, was worried something bad had happened to you. I’ve reassured them as best I can, and they’re reading books with Hugh right now as we speak.”
Ben looked at the clock. It was four-thirty in the afternoon, which meant that Annie had performed a miracle if the girls weren’t begging to watch cartoons or eat ice cream. He smiled at the thought. “I hate to interrupt, but can I speak to them, please?”
“Absolutely. You just hold on a second, dear.”
He leaned back in his chair. If Daphne worried, then Ella worried, too. Daphne was just the more vocal of the two of them. Ella would internalize her pain until she couldn’t take it anymore and threw up. He’d gotten to know their coping mechanisms very well in their brief six years on the planet.
“Daddy?” Daphne’s voice came onto the line.
He could hear the concern radiating in her high-pitched, little-girl voice that always made him smile. “Hiya, bébé, ask Ms. Annie to put the speaker phone on so I can talk to both of you at the same time.”
In the background, he could hear Daphne do as he asked. Seconds later, both Daphne and Ella were saying hello again.
Ben grinned. They spoke in unison so frequently that sometimes he wondered if they even noticed.
“How are my princesses?”
“Daddy?” Daphne’s voice sounded determined. “Why aren’t we at home?”
“Daddy has someone over tonight, princess, talking about grown-up things, and Ms. Annie thought you might like to have a visit with her.”
He hoped that would suffice as an answer even as he doubted it would. His girls were as sharp as tacks, as their mother had been. They didn’t miss a trick.
“Someone is staying at the house?” Ella piped in.
“Yes. Someone Daddy is working on a project with.”
Ella clicked her tongue. “Then you need us to come home and help take care of him. Someone needs to see to the guest.”
He covered his mouth to keep from laughing. Ella was serious, and she wouldn’t take well to being mocked even if his amusement fell into the “I’m amused because you’re too cute for words” category. She didn’t like to be the object of anyone’s jokes.
When he could speak, he did. “I appreciate the offer, but Daddy has it under control this time.”
They spoke in unison. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” He picked up his pen, twirling it through his fingers.
“Will we see you tomorrow?” It was Daphne’s turn to talk again.
“It’s Saturday tomorrow, sweet pea. You’ll see me. You can come home in the morning.” Yes, he silently agreed with his statement. If Seven didn’t murder him in his bed tonight, he would feel confident in knowing his instincts had been correct. She was safe, and his children could be around her. He’d bet money she was trustworthy.
“Okay, Daddy—we’ll be over first thing in the morning.”
They said their goodnights, and he smiled. It would be hours until they went to bed. Annie and Hugh would need the patience of saints to wrangle them down on a Friday night. His girls had a way of getting what they wanted out of unsuspecting adults.
In the meantime, his brain itched to become an expert on Conditioned law. He’d never paid that much attention to the subject before. It wasn’t as if there were any contracts drawn up for the Conditioned. As far as he understood it, they didn’t have any rights to speak of, which was surprising in Louisiana. Whereas the rest of the country existed under one legal system, Louisiana had stuck with its Napoleonic code.
In some ways it was antiquated, but in others it granted more rights to people than the other state laws did. When he’d studied at Tulane, it had only been the students planning to remain in Louisiana for their careers who had bothered with taking the code classes. He’d been born in New Orleans and meant to spend the rest of his days living within its city limits, even if he had to prepare to evacuate for impending hurricanes.
He’d come back and do it all over, again and again.
But he hadn’t ever cracked a book to read about the rights of the Conditioned. He hadn’t needed to—it wasn’t on the bar exam. Civil Rights wasn’t his field, and in any case, he doubted that too many lawyers were spending any time on the Conditioned. Especially not after Safe Dawn had burned to the ground last year. The idea of dealing with the kind of people who could kill you with only their thoughts didn’t make anyone rest easy.
Booting up his computer, he opened his LexisNexis database and began his search. It wouldn’t be easy. It never was. While television showed attorneys having big courtroom dramas, most of his work was done this way—sitting in front of a computer reading case law, preparing briefs and harassing associates to get what he needed.
Today, he wouldn’t be asking anyone for any help. In fact, he’d prefer it if no one knew he’d spent any time doing this. They might think he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had.
He started to read. It wasn’t easy. Half the cases had been written in the late 1980s, early 1990s. Almost no one had tried a case for the Conditioned in nearly twenty years. After the Safe Dawn fiasco, the President had signed into law some Committee recommendations that tightened restrictions. That was all. No one had challenged the constitutionality of it, and he doubted they would.
A strange set of occurrences had started taking place around 40 years ago. Children born with weird abilities—psychic phenomena, as they’d been called then—had screwed up some serious political negotiations. Then there had been deaths. One boy had accidentally set his father on fire. The government had finally intervened and the word “Conditioned” had been coined. Ultimately, families had been given no choice but to turn their Conditioned children over to the government, where they were institutionalized for both their own and the general public’s safety. Occasionally a Conditioned who had abilities—like Seven—could be sent out to serve the interests of those who could afford to pay the Institutions for their use. If anyone tried to resist these circumstances, a special Conditioned police force, the Fury, was supposedly sent out to handle them. Of course, it wasn’t entirely clear whether the Fury really existed.
Hours felt like minutes as he lost himself in statutes he’d never read before. The sun went down outside his office window, and he turned on another light so he could continue reading. If he had his facts correct—and he had no reason to doubt himself—then the law stated that Seven should be put to death at forty years old. This was a new requirement, one that had been put in place since Addison Wade, granddaughter of a wealthy industrialist, had run off with a Conditioned man named Spencer Lewis. The irony was double. Not only was her grandfather a member of the Committee that ran the Institutions, Addison Wade was, herself, Conditioned, and that fact had been hidden from all. Somehow, Addison Wade and Spencer Lewis had managed to burn down an Institution in their escape, and authorities still hadn’t gotten all the missing Conditioned back.
But kill them all at forty? That didn’t make any sense. The details of exactly why this was thought to be necessary were vague at best. Besides, there was no way Seven was ten years older than him, or anywhere near forty. He bit down on his bottom lip. If the statutes had been followed, she should have been made barren at the age of twenty. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes.
Had that happened to her? “Sir?”
His eyes shot open. Still wearing the orange jumpsuit and leaning against the door of his office, Seven waited for him to acknowledge her. If it was possible, and apparently it was, she was even more beautiful than she’d been earlier. There was something ethereal about her, as if she’d been dropped from Heaven into his hallway. It must have been the lack of the dark circles under her eyes.
“How long were you sta
nding there?” He stretched his arms over his head, wishing he could miraculously work the kinks out of his neck. “I get kind of engrossed when I’m working.”
“Not long. I didn’t expect to find you awake.”
“Why?” His eyes sought the clock on the wall. It was midnight? He stood up. “I guess I lost track of time. What are you doing up?”
“I get about five hours of sleep a night, so I’ve had more than my allotted amount now. I decided to believe you that it was fine for me to eat.” She looked down at the floor. “Then I saw your light on, and I thought maybe I could cook you something. A late-night something.”
She was vulnerable in that moment. He wanted to pull her in his arms and…
And what? He sighed. What could he possibly do for her? He couldn’t even find a legal way—yet—to keep her from dying.
“I didn’t eat dinner. You cook?”
Her head jolted up, her eyes bright and excited. “I can. Really well.”
He turned off his computer monitor. No more of that tonight. He needed to eat and go to bed. Ben knew he’d been kidding himself. Solving major life-and-death problems was not his domain, no matter how much he wished it could be.
Feeling selfish, he let himself touch her arm. “You remember where the kitchen is?”
Four
More awake than she’d been earlier, Seven could admit to herself what she’d suspected. Ben was amazingly handsome, like a man on the cover of some of the books the female guards read. She couldn’t read—it was against the rules at Crescent—but she’d always imagined those stories were great romances filled with wonder and adventure, something other than the horrors filling her head. Regular people didn’t live like she had to, that much she understood. So why would they read books that were anything but light and fluffy love stories? That’s all she would read if she were given the choice. People who weren’t Conditioned got to be in love.
Ben reminded her of those men on those covers. She smiled at the thought. Meeting him at this stage of her life was a gift she hadn’t thought she would have.
“What are you smiling about?”
His voice sounded inquisitive, not harsh, and she was actually tempted to tell him. But that might have gotten her thrown out of the house before her job was done, and she couldn’t have that. Completion of the task at hand was pivotal to her wellbeing right now.
“I’m not sure I could explain it.”
Usually people—non-Conditioned people—left her alone when she said that. They really didn’t want to know the workings of the Conditioned mind.
Ben sat down on a stool in his kitchen. “I’m really smart. Try me.”
Was that amusement in his eyes? She wasn’t sure. “I was thinking about what a nice place I’ve ended up in for my last job.”
Seven didn’t have to feel terrible about that little fib. Ben probably didn’t want to hear she’d developed a crush on him.
This spared them both the embarrassment.
“Don’t ever lie for a living.” He tapped his hands on the counter. “I won’t push you to tell me. Your thoughts are your own. We’re all entitled to that.”
“Not in Crescent.” She gasped as she realized what she’d said. At this stage in her life, she knew better than to talk about
Crescent to people outside its walls. “I could make pancakes.”
“I have a mix.” He jumped off the stool and walked into the pantry, pulling out a box. “I can make it for you.”
She shook her head. “No, let me.”
He nodded, and she smiled. She liked to cook, not that she was given much opportunity to use her minuscule skills in the kitchen. But she had made pancakes before for the children at Crescent, under the watchful eyes of the guards, of course.
“I can’t read. Can I assume the directions on the box are the same as the ones I’ve used in the past? The guards taught those of us not deemed a threat to cook some basic things. But by memory not by a recipe.”
Ben was silent, and she cursed herself for admitting she was illiterate. It wasn’t exactly her fault. It went against the rules at Crescent for the Conditioned to learn. Madame had made it forbidden to teach them.
He took the box from her. “I’ll read it aloud to you.”
“I think it’s the same as what I’ve done before.” She stared at the package. The woman looked the same as the one who had been on the cover of the boxes at Crescent. “If you see me doing something wrong, just stop me. Would that be okay?”
Ben leaned against the counter, staring at her. His gaze heated her insides, and a melting sensation she was unaccustomed to spread throughout her body. Her cheeks warmed up, and she was sure he would be able to see their red hue. That was the problem with being a redhead—you could never really hide your feelings.
“I’m sorry.” She looked down at the counter. There was no choice; she had to say something to address what had happened. “I think I’m reacting to you this way because I’ve reached the end, and I’m not entirely in control of myself. Not as well as I should be, anyway.”
Ben walked toward her. “I’m the one staring at you, Seven.”
He brushed her hair off her shoulder, and she shivered. As his hand caressed the side of her face, she met his dark gaze and knew she was lost. In the past, she’d always managed not to fall in love with anyone. She’d gotten good at protecting herself from that level of exposure. No one had tempted her to take that risk.
In a few measly hours together, Ben had managed to break down all her defenses so that her silly heart had let him inside.
His hands were rough. She closed her eyes and decided that for one second she would pretend she was just a girl letting a man flirt with her in the middle of the night.
“I keep trying to tell myself that you’re off limits to me.” Ben’s voice sounded hoarse.
She opened her eyes to regard him. His hair was disheveled. The blue-and-white tie he wore fell loose around his collar.
“I spent the better part of tonight trying to learn about Conditioned law. It basically amounts to one legislative document after another talking about how you are all monsters.” He traced the side of her face. “You seem like a woman to me. That’s all. A beautiful, sensitive, abused woman who smells like coffee beans.”
His mouth was right above hers. She could feel the heat from his body radiating into hers. Ben was the sun, and for just a moment, she was going to let him heat her cold soul.
The sharp pain on the back of her neck made her stagger, and she fell forward into his arms.
“Seven?” He shouted her name as he caught her. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things…”
Gasping as she tried to catch her breath, she held tight to his shirt. “There’s something here, in the room with us.”
It didn’t usually happen like this. She closed her eyes and willed the pain to stop. Most of the time she couldn’t tell when negative “ghost” energy existed in a room. It was a faint sense of something being off. Only once—in a very dark and dangerous place—had she ever felt something like this. She’d been fifteen at the time and on her second assignment.
It had made her catatonic for a week. But she was stronger now. She didn’t have to go down like an amateur. Somehow, she would control it. On her last assignment, she would prove she could handle really dark energy, even in an onslaught like this.
“Seven?” Ben shook her slightly, and she realized she’d dug her fingers through his shirt into his skin.
She gasped as she let go. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
He shook his head, scooping her up in his arms. “You didn’t. I’m worried about you. What’s wrong? Negative energy?”
“Something came into the room.” She needed to breathe, and forced herself to take three deep breaths, in through her nose, out through her mouth. “It’s overwhelming me.”
With a determined gait, he was across the room, taking her with him to the living room and out of the kitchen. He place
d her gently on the couch and sat down next to her. “What can I do to help?”
His touch made a huge difference. She didn’t want him to stop. It kept her there, kept her from going in after the energy without preparing herself.
“I’m going to have to go see what this is. It shouldn’t be like this.” She took another deep breath. “Last time it was this bad I kind of went away somewhere for a while. Can I ask a favor?”
His eyes were huge. “Anything.”
She actually believed him. He said things to her that no one else ever had. It made her feel as though she might be able to handle this.
“Hold my hand. I need to feel something keeping me here. I can’t allow myself to get too deep into this, not while I’m so vulnerable.”
He squeezed her hand, and she wanted to melt into the situation. “I won’t go anywhere. I won’t let you disappear.”
Seven knew that was unrealistic. If she got lost in the energy, there wasn’t a thing Ben could do to bring her back, no matter his best intentions. Still, she appreciated his wanting to help her. No one had ever offered before. The last time this had happened, she’d woken up in Crescent with no memory of what had occurred between the time she’d chased the ghost energy and the second her eyes had opened.
She couldn’t allow that to happen this time. They’d never let her wake up again, and that would mean she’d failed in her plan to go out on such a positive note that they had to let her into Heaven, even with her dark soul. “I’m going to go under and see what this thing is.”
Ben squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
She hoped that was true more than she could ever admit. It would be nice to have someone waiting for her when she got through with her task, someone who would care about what had happened to her during the time when she had to be alone.
Her arms tingled as goosebumps appeared on her sensitized skin. It always hurt to transition, but today it felt particularly painful. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised, considering the amount of dark energy pulsating in the room. It wasn’t odd that Ben’s clock had fallen over, not if it had been hit with a force like the one assaulting her right now.
Illicit Connections (Illicit Minds Book 2) Page 4