Chapter Five
“I’ve already answered that question.” Beth laced her fingers to quell the trembling. She was in trouble—what kind or why, she didn’t know. However, from the way Aymes kept badgering her about her identity, she suspected that was the sticking point.
“Answer it again. With the truth this time.”
“I’m Beth O’Shea.”
Aymes pinned her to the chair with his stare, creating the uncomfortable sense he saw right through her.
Then he should know I’ve done nothing wrong. Well, nothing to warrant this degree of interrogation. He might have discovered her records had been forged—and she’d signed an affidavit certifying their accuracy—but surely, that would mean she’d only lose out on the job.
“I received the results of the DNA analysis.”
“You mean the DNA you illegally took from me?”
“According to the report, you’re Liza O’Shea. Can you explain that?”
Fear, like jabs from an ice pick, poked around inside her skull. She knotted her hands tighter, resisting the urge to rub her temples. He would pounce on the weakness. “I told you. Liza and I are identical twins. I’m sure you know that monozygotic twins are produced when a single fertilized ovum splits into two,” she said in a sarcasm-laced tone. “We have the same genome.”
“Twins have a similar genome. Due to copy number variations, identical twins do not share the exact same DNA. So how do you explain that your DNA matches Liza’s?”
She swallowed. “I-I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.”
Aymes got to his feet, overwhelming her with his towering height and musculature. He had to be the biggest, most powerfully built man she’d ever seen. Shoulders widened over a barrel chest ready to burst his uniform seams. His biceps were larger than her thighs, and his legs? Tree trunks. He was suspicious of her identity, but whoever Carter Aymes was now, he had changed since dating Liza. Human men did not come as large as he without some sort of genetic re-engineering.
He wouldn’t harm her physically—she sensed he was not that sort of man—but his suspicions could prove fatal to her anyway.
He stalked around the table to place his palms on its top and lean over her. Inscrutable blue eyes fixed on her face. Chiseled cheekbones, a pugnacious chin, and a full mouth slashed into a stern line carved a fierce scowl into his handsome features. How stupid would it be to kiss that mouth to see if she could make it soften?
Was this how Liza felt?
I’m not Liza. Her heart thudded, and heat flooded her cheeks as disturbing sensations assaulted her.
His nostrils flared.
He’s trying to intimidate me—and it’s working.
As a matter of pride, she held his gaze, but she pushed with her feet to scoot her chair back, to edge some distance between them without him noticing. But, of course, he did. She saw it in the quirk of his mouth.
He leaned in, so close their breaths mingled. “Perhaps, then, you could explain how Liza could be both dead and alive?”
“I can’t explain that, either…please.” Please don’t ask. Aymes had the answer—he just didn’t realize it, and if he guessed, her life could be imperiled.
She wanted to leap up and flee, but her extremities felt like they were made of lead. The air thinned; her lungs spasmed. Someone had dimmed the lights so that the room grayed. Spots exploded in little bursts in front of her eyes, and as Aymes’s face wavered, she realized the lighting hadn’t changed—her vision had.
She felt herself fall.
The room went black.
* * * *
An antiseptic smell wormed up her nose and into her sinuses. Something beeped close to her ear. She shied away from the annoying sound and realized a firm, but comfortable surface pressed against her spine with a smaller pad cradling her head and neck. She squeezed her eyelids tighter against the light creeping at the edges.
“I can tell you’re conscious now. Open your eyes.” The brusque command demanded compliance.
Carter Aymes peered down at her. He always seemed to be towering over her. Relief, or maybe a glint of light, flickered in his gaze before evaporating into a flinty expression.
Memories rushed in…the interrogation, her fear, the blackness…
“You fainted,” Aymes said. “The medtech said you had a panic attack, and you passed out.”
She registered pale-green walls, high-tech equipment, an antiseptic smell—“I’m in an infirmary?”
“At Aym-Sec.” He nodded.
“H-how long was I out?”
“About fifteen minutes.” He straddled the stool beside the bed. No longer towering, now he was too close. His hooded gaze fixed on her face, as if zeroing in on a target. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” he persisted.
“Nothing’s going on. What do you mean?” She forced a steady tone. A machine beeped.
He chuckled. “Before you lie, you should know your heart rate, blood pressure, and respiration are being monitored.
She lifted her arms, searching for the electrodes, but saw none.
“The bed has sensors,” he said.
The hell! She sprang to a seated position.
He pressed a palm against her shoulder. “Not so fast. I want you right where you are.”
“In bed?” She arched her eyebrows.
To her astonishment, a blush crept across his cheekbones, and he jerked his hand away. She flung her legs over the side and stood up.
He recovered his equilibrium. “What are you afraid of?” he demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Something scared you so badly, you passed out.”
“Maybe it was you interrogating me.”
Consternation glinted before the calculating look returned. “Who are you afraid of? What hold do they have on you?”
“Nobody has anything on me,” she denied.
“You’re acting alone.” His tone conveyed his skepticism.
“Yes.” She scowled.
“So, what is it you want? Why are you here?”
“I came for the job—but I wouldn’t accept it now if you offered it to me at a million credits per year. You’re crazy.”
“Ensuring the safety of my people isn’t crazy.”
“I’m not a threat to your people.”
“Then, tell me who you are.”
“I told you! I am Elizabeth O’Shea. I go by Beth. My genetically identical twin sister—also named Elizabeth—went by Liza. I want to leave, now.” She inched toward the door.
He placed himself between her and the exit. “You’re not going anywhere, until you tell me the truth.”
“I am telling you the truth!” she lied.
“I can’t let you leave.”
“You can’t keep me here.”
“Yes, I can. I can keep you for as long as I want. You’ll”—he snapped his fingers—“disappear.”
She was a prisoner? Her chest tightened. How had this happened? All she’d desired was a life of her own—and a job. She could die here, and nobody would know—or care. The O’Sheas would eventually realize she’d fallen off the grid, but that would solve their problems.
The door slid open, and two mean-looking, beefy men strode in.
“Take her to a holding cell,” Carter barked. “She’s allowed food, water, and medical treatment—nothing else. When she’s ready to talk, let me know.” He stepped away.
“You can’t do this! Please, I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you want!” The pain in her head spiked, graying the edges of the room. She swayed on her feet.
“I’m not falling for the fainting routine again.” Aymes jerked his head. “Take her away.”
The two men each grabbed an arm.
“No! You can’t do this.” She fought to break free.
They dragged her toward the door.
“Mr. Aymes, please,” she begged.
“Who are you?” he pressed.
Her head pounded. “If I tell you, and they find out—” She’d come too close to freedom to lose it now. She didn’t doubt Carter Aymes would keep her locked up until he got what he wanted. But wealth bought enormous power, and there would be no place she could hide from the O’Sheas. They’d hunt her down and make her pay. “They might kill me.” Beth began to cry.