by S. M. Butler
“I don’t understand what’s happening here, Dad.”
But at the same time, she had always known he’d used her as his political launch. Adopting her had made national news. Former war hero turned senator continues to save lives. Adopting her had obviously been a way to further his political career, but she hadn’t known how much.
The media adored her. She had no idea why other than she had this amazing fairy tale of a life. Her father wasn’t married and had no other children. It had just been him and her all her life, and she’d loved it. Loved him. From the moment she became his daughter, her life was public. She didn’t care because he was her father.
“Sure, you understand,” he replied. “You saw the files. If you didn’t understand them, you wouldn’t have tried to run.” He smirked, the action creating wrinkles around his eyes. Eyes she’d once thought kind, but now had a hint of ruthless cruelty inside. “You would have come to me and I could have made it all go away for you.”
He could have, too. He was a master manipulator. She’d never realized it before because she’d loved him so desperately. Even when her story had turned from fairy tale to nightmare when she’d been stolen from a vacation in Switzerland, beaten and kept in a cage for what felt like weeks until she’d given up hope of rescue, she’d thought of him and worried for him.
A team of SEALs had busted into the compound where she’d been held. The man holding her hostage had been shot.
Her father had primed the media for her return and she was sure he’d leaked some of the details of her horrific experience to develop sympathy for America’s Princess.
At least, that’s what the media called her, and her father had pushed that label, hand-crafted her life to conform to that label. She’d gone along with it because Senator Lewis had asked her to, and she desperately wanted his approval. Craved that approval. He’d always withheld it from her, and now she understood why. Because she was never truly his daughter. She was a trophy on display.
“I ran because I was scared. I’ve never been manhandled by the security I thought was there to protect me.” She crossed her arms, trying to act indignant instead of heartbroken.
“They were a little rough,” he agreed. “That won’t happen anymore, so long as you behave yourself.”
“What?” Hope bloomed in her chest. Was he going to let her go?
“I’ll make sure you’re treated well. I still need you,” he continued. “There is a very specific reason you’re still alive after that little stunt.”
The hope died an agonizingly painful death, squeezed by her ribs. She glared at him, barely recognizing the man she’d considered her father all her life. “What do you want from me?”
“I have what I want,” he grinned. “The question is… what do you want?” His face became serious as he pulled a gun from his jacket pocket. She gasped as he aimed it at her. “I can end it all now. These walls are soundproof, so no one will hear it, and no one will think taking garbage bags up from the basement is anything more than spring cleaning in such a large house.”
She couldn’t breathe. There was only one door down here, and for sure, he’d have his men outside it. She’d not get far if she tried to run now. He’d kill her before she made it up the steps anyway.
“If you don’t wish to play the part anymore, you’ll disappear. Officially, I’ll send you off to some university overseas where you’ll have an accident that claims your life. Or…” he paused, watching for her reaction. “You can continue as we have. Play the lovely princess for the media, for my campaign. Of course, I’ll have to up your security detail, because I can’t trust that you won’t run again, but at least you’ll live somewhat like you did before you knew the truth.”
“That isn’t a choice. That’s a demand.”
“Call it what you want. I don’t really care. Either way, I’m getting what I want.” He shrugged. The gun unwaveringly stared back at her, open-mouthed and entirely too big for her taste.
Abigail choked back tears she didn’t want him to see. Her life was over, no matter what she picked. Her dreams of going away to college, of striking out on her own away from her father were dying in here. She’d lived her life a prisoner without knowledge of it. Now… she wasn’t just a prisoner, but also she had to play the part of the dutiful daughter to the man that broke her heart.
But at least if she agreed, she wasn’t dying. If she could find another opportunity, she could try again to get away and disappear into the world where he’d never find her. His eyes swept over her as the gun stared her down. “What’s it going to be?”
“Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll do it.” He smiled and walked over to her. She stared at his chest, fighting away tears and the gross heartbreak she didn’t want to feel but couldn’t help.
“That’s a good girl. One more thing, though… “ he pressed the barrel of the gun against her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I promise, you’ll be fish food at the bottom of the Atlantic before dinnertime.”
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes like someone stuck pins there as she met her father’s eyes. The gun was cold against her chin, like the expression her father gave her at that moment. Hot liquid slid from the corners of her eyes, down her cheeks, and ran the length of her neck down into her clothes.
“Are we clear on that?”
She would have nodded if she could, but she was too afraid to move in case the gun went off. She choked out a small “yes” just as more tears fell from her eyes.
He removed the gun and tucked it back into his jacket pocket. “Good. It’s been a long day. I think a nice dinner is in order.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her up the stairs. He rested his hand on the doorknob and looked at her. “Remember, Abigail, this is between you and me.”
“I get it,” she said, pulling her arm free. “Our little secret.”
“Good girl,” he said, opening the door. He placed his hand on the small of her back and pushed her through first, into the waiting arms of her security detail.
Chapter Two
Chris woke up to every nerve in his body firing alive at the same time. He screamed, the burning spreading through his body until his body broke out in sweats and every muscle tensed hard as rocks. His eyes shot open, but the blinding light on him forced them shut.
He heard voices over him, but couldn’t focus on any one of them. Some sounded concerned, others panicked. Fear tasted like bitterness on his tongue.
He was dying.
His entire body was on fire.
He was inside an incinerator, about to be a pile of ash. He yanked at his arms, grunting hard when they didn’t move. His legs were being held down as well. He renewed his struggle, desperate to get away from the pain. His chest hurt most of all like someone had slammed hot coal into him and closed it back up.
“Mr. Hardy, I need you to relax. You’re almost through the first phase of the treatment. Just a few more minutes.”
Treatment?
Chris’s muddled memory latched onto that word. Treatment. He agreed to this. The hospital room. The man. Nathan. He groaned as a fresh round of pain pulsed over his body. Every muscle he had, some he didn’t even realize he had, shook with exertion.
Then the burning started to subside. His skin was cold and hot at the same time, covered with sweat, and he was pretty sure he just peed on someone when his muscles were tensed.
“Easy, now.” Chris recognized the voice of the man in the hospital. Nathan. He groaned, nausea rolling through him like an unleashed hurricane. “Breathe in, breathe out. Nice and easy. We have one more round, and then we’re done for now.”
For now?
“No more. I’m going to snap your fucking neck,” Chris growled at the man. He tried to open his eyes again, so he could see his target, but the lights were blinding. He snapped his eyes shut almost immediately as his body trembled under the stress. “Fuck!”
“Blindfold. His eyes are too sensitive.” He didn’t rec
ognize the female voice.
Even as he shook his head, a black sleep mask slipped over his eyes, leaving his nose and mouth free. “You never said it would hurt this bad, Nathan.”
“I didn’t say it wouldn’t, either. I mentioned unpleasant,” the man replied.
“You and I need to have a discussion about understatements.”
“Suck it up, buttercup. It’s going to be fine in a few minutes, and you’ll feel better than you ever did before.”
As if in answer, the burning came back, slow and ticklish, then increased to full force within a minute.
Chris screamed, his back arching.
He pulled at his restraints, but he was locked up tight. He called Nathan every name he could think of, told him all the ways he was going to break his body, and kept screaming all of it until his world spun out of control, even in the darkness of the mask, until he couldn’t tell which way was up and which way was down.
Then that darkness slammed into his face so hard stars exploded in his vision, and then there was nothing.
~*~*~
Birds chirped outside the window, which was just far enough from Chris not to irritate his body. The window was open to the screen, letting in a nice, cool draft that felt like utter heaven to his fevered skin. Slowly, he opened his eyes, but only darkness greeted him.
He felt around his face, realized he still wore the mask they’d put over his eyes, and slowly pulled it off. He blinked carefully. They weren’t burning like before, but they still hurt in the pale morning sunlight that sifted into the room.
His body ached like he’d run three marathons back to back, then run down a beach with a boat on his shoulder like he had when he was in training. Everything seemed sharper, crisper, even the soreness of his body as he turned to look at the room he was in.
It wasn’t a hospital, he realized. Optimized for comfort, yes. The bed was like the hospital beds, with guard rails and reclining ability. A ceiling fan clacked away over him. The hardwood floors weren’t that cheap linoleum stuff either, and he was pretty sure that area rug was Persian. To the side of the bed, there was a really nice mahogany dresser set, complete with vanity mirror and matching nightstands on either side of the bed itself.
He pushed himself up, ignoring the sharp pain of his muscles so he could look better. The sheets rubbed against his raw skin, aggravating nerves all through his body. His wrists looked red and angry. How had that happened?
Pain dropped hard on his chest as he moved. He ran his fingers over the bandage on his chest. This procedure was supposed to speed up his healing, but honestly, besides having a pain hangover, he didn’t feel incredibly different.
“I wouldn’t open that bandage.”
His head shot up as Nathan entered the room, his black-rimmed lenses reflecting off the brightening sunlight from the window.
“Contact with the air might cause infection. It needs another few hours to heal on its own before exposing it.”
Chris grimaced as he put his hand over his chest, feeling more like a knife twisted into his chest. “You left out a few important details about that procedure.”
“I”m not a doctor,” Nathan said with the slightest twitch of his lips. “And I don’t coddle grown men.”
“So now what?” Chris asked.
Nathan held up a folder and tossed it in Chris’s lap. “That’s for you.”
“What is it?” Chris asked, almost afraid to open it.
“New identity. New IDs, passports, bank accounts, everything you need to completely start fresh.” He shoved his hands into his pocket. “I have a place in Jubilee, Texas. You’ll start there as soon as you can travel.”
Chris glanced up at Nathan. “You said I didn’t have to die as long as I didn’t contact my family.”
“Yes, but Christopher Hardy, former SEAL, needs to disappear off the face of the earth. We can’t have anything to tie that name to what we are doing. Unless you want your family to be a target.”
“What exactly will I be doing for you?” Chris asked, opening the folder. Jesus. There was a mountain of information here, dating back decades. What kind of pull did Nathan have to have to gain access to this kind of information? Birth certificate, high school diploma, credit cards, bank accounts… This was someone’s life.
“That will be discussed later. Read the file. Go over it as much as you can, commit it to memory.” He paused. “I’ve already taken the liberty of destroying anything you were carrying that might have information from your former life on it.”
Chris frowned. “It seems like it’s skirting the legal side a little.”
“The law doesn’t apply to dead men,” Nathan replied. “We are building a team, one that will supersede countries, organizations, and international conflicts. We will have no country to report to, no political agenda to bend.” Nathan glanced around the room and continued talking as he did. “This team will not exist. There will be no backup, no rescue if members are compromised.”
“Seems harsh.”
“Perhaps. You’re the first. You’re going to help me recruit the rest.”
Chris blinked as Nathan came over to the bed. “Why me?”
“Because you’ll be the one working with them,” Nathan replied.
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“You will,” Nathan said. “Your eyesight is already beginning to show sensitivity, but it won’t be long before the rest of your senses catch up. We need to begin Phase Two soon.”
“Wait…” Chris chuckled, regretting that as pain stabbed him directly in the chest. “Phase Two?”
“Phase One was activating the healing mechanism and enhancing the nervous system while correcting any damage done by your wounds. Phase Two will fix any atrophy of your muscles from your injury.”
“You didn’t say I’d change.”
“You’re not. Your body will, a little bit. To do the job I need you to do, I need you to be better than you’ve ever been. This procedure will give you slightly enhanced senses, and the accompanying training will help your hand-eye coordination.” Nathan grabbed a stack of files Chris hadn’t noticed from the dresser and put them on the nightstand. “When you’re done with your new file, those are your potential recruits. Look them over, let me know your recommendations. I’ll handle the rest from there.”
As Nathan headed for the door, Chris glanced at the files. He was responsible for a whole new team? “Wait, Nathan.”
“Yes?” Nathan turned, his hand resting on the doorknob.
“What about my family? Addison? Murphy? I didn’t even…” he trailed off.
Nathan frowned and walked back to the bed. His eyes narrowed. “You agreed to work for me and to have no contact with family in exchange for this procedure and a new life. I’m delivering. How about you?”
“I know. I just thought… I’d be able to say goodbye.”
Nathan sighed. “Tell them you’re going through a rigorous medical rehabilitation program and you will be unavailable for a while.” He paused, then in a softer tone, he spoke again. “Mr. Hardy… Chris… it would be in their best interest if Christopher Hardy were to cease existence. The work you will do will be dangerous.”
“I can’t do that to my sister. It would kill her.”
“So would any enemy you cross that knows who you are. They are targets, they are weak spots. I can’t afford for you to have any weaknesses. It’s not going to be an easy assignment as it is. It would be better for them if you were dead.”
“No, I can’t do that. I can’t kill myself,” Chris said, his voice barely over a whisper.
“We had an agreement.”
“There will be no weakness on my part. I promise.”
Nathan’s eyes swept over him, scrutinizing, analyzing every aspect of Chris’s face. Finally, he sighed. “Okay, Mr. Hardy. We’ll do it your way for now. The second it endangers my missions…”
“It won’t.”
“Good.” Nathan’s voice was guttural, violence-laden. If Chris
hadn’t been weak from the procedure that saved his life, he probably would have shivered from the icy stare Nathan gave him.
~*~*~
The days passed into weeks. The weeks passed into months. Abigail fell into a new life, no longer shrouded in secrets. Her father didn’t make it any secret that she was a prisoner. She had an escort everywhere in the Texas manor besides her already fortified bedroom. She hadn’t realized it before, but her bedroom didn’t have locks on the inside. They were all designed to keep someone in, not out. The windows locked from the outside. The door didn’t have a lock she could turn but had a keyhole on the outside. How she’d managed to miss those things before…
When she went out with her father, he treated her much like he had before she’d found out the secret, but that was just for the public, to keep people from realizing that something had changed. That her eyes were open for the first time in her life.
Guards posted outside her door twenty-four hours a day. The only time she had privacy was in her bedroom and the bathroom, though she suspected they might have a camera in her bedroom. The thought sent shivers down her spine.
The bathroom was a good way out. The bathroom window was small but large enough that she could have slipped out, except that it was a two-story drop down. She’d probably land on her head. But she had a plan and she was just about ready to use it.
Abigail spent the last year setting up her way to freedom. The only issue would be ditching the guards and getting away from them. Once she managed that, she had cash stashed, and she’d get out of town as fast as possible.
Her childhood bedroom had once seemed like a palace to her. A place she played, read books, tried on makeup. Now it was a prison, a nice one, but still a prison. It was time for her to make her move.
She grabbed her jewelry box and pulled the long drawer that ran the length of the box open. Inside, her favorite earrings and rings kept a small memory card company. She plucked the memory card out. All of the pictures she’d taken of her father’s files were on that card. She’d managed to stash the card in her shoe before her father’s security found her.