Chapter Six
He shouldn’t be doing this.
But she felt like she belonged in his arms. At the same time, Ethan sensed a wariness in her, something he couldn’t understand, but which put him on edge. Then, at the first touch of their lips, she’d melted against him. Her body pressed along the full length of his, and his cock pulsed in his pants, swelling, pushing almost painfully against his fly.
Was it all an act? After all, she was a professional. But her movements didn’t feel orchestrated. Fuck. She felt almost out of control, as though she couldn’t help herself, her breasts and her hips rubbing up against him. And she was dragging him down with her.
He was rock hard now, and his hands slid down her back to her ass—firm under the smooth leather—and pulled her closer. Her fingers were in his hair, gripping him tight as though she couldn’t bear to let him go.
He liked that. Maybe too much.
Stay aloof.
Even he couldn’t fuck a woman one day, then sign off on her interrogation the next.
One more minute and he would bring this to an end. Fergus would be ready, waiting for him to give the sign, and they would take her.
Her kiss deepened, her tongue hot and wet, stroking over his, her teeth nipping at his lower lip, a growl low down in her throat, more than a hint of desperation in her tense figure. He raised a leg, pushing his thigh between hers, nudging against her sex, and she went still.
With more than a hint of regret, he lowered his leg, then pulled away a little, forcing himself to break the kiss as he stared down into her face. Her eyes were unfocused. But as he raised his hand behind her back to signal Fergus, her expression cleared, and shock flared in her face.
She tried to take a step back, but he held on. For a second, he thought she would fight him, as something almost feral flashed in her eyes. Then the strength went out of her. Her breathing slowed, but in the dim light from the main road, he could make out the rapid pulse beating at her throat. She swallowed, then peered over her shoulder, no doubt taking in the four men entering the alley.
She licked her lips and his still hard cock, throbbed. He ignored it.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Just go along with them and you won’t come to any harm.”
“Why would I go with them?”
He gripped her elbow and turned her, tugging her forward toward them, her every step dragging, reluctant.
“You don’t have a choice, sweetheart. This is nothing personal, but we need to know who you’re working with.”
“I’m not working with anyone. Really, I’m not. Honest.” She held out the bag with a shaking hand. “Just take your money and let me go.”
He watched her closely; there was something not quite right. She was talking, but her words held no conviction, as though she was going through the motions, and her mind was elsewhere.
“Please, Ethan.”
Definitely something wasn’t right. She was a fighter, and clearly, however much she was trying to beg, it didn’t come naturally. At least his erection had subsided.
Fergus stood, flanked by the three other men at the entrance to the alley. They would all be armed, but Fergus had his gun hanging loosely at his side. Ethan felt the moment she saw the weapon—she went completely still in his hold.
Her gaze flicked past the group, caught on something. A huge Harley pulled up outside the bar. Two people, a man driving and a tall woman clinging behind him. They returned his stare, but he couldn’t recognize them beneath the helmets.
When he looked back at Suzi, she was studiously staring at the ground.
He glanced back at the bike, but it was already pulling away, and she relaxed in his grip.
Were there others involved? Well, no doubt they would find out.
He didn’t understand his reluctance as he handed her over to Fergus. She was a hooker, a potential threat. Nothing more.
But it was done now. At that moment, a black van pulled up at the head of the alley and the rear doors opened. Would she make a fuss? Right now, no one was taking any notice of them, but the street was busy, and that could change in an instant. Fergus clearly thought the same. He nudged her in the side with the pistol, and her lips clamped closed. Fergus urged her into the back of the van and she clambered up, then turned to look at him.
As he caught her expression, a niggle of unease nudged him in the guts. He’d learned not to ignore his gut feelings. What the hell was she thinking now? She appeared almost calm, then, as she caught his attention, the calmness vanished, replaced by panic, though it seemed as if she were acting, and not particularly well.
“Make sure you’re not followed,” he said to Fergus.
Fergus gave him a surprised look, as well he might—Ethan had never questioned his work before—then jumped into the back beside her, pulling a hypodermic syringe from his inner pocket.
At the last second, Suzi broke her connection with him, looked away, caught sight of the needle, just as Fergus jabbed it into her upper arm.
Her reaction hadn’t been fear, but resignation.
She was the strangest woman he had ever met. As the doors were about to shut, he called out, “Don’t do the interrogation without me.”
Fergus frowned. “You sure? Why?”
“It doesn’t matter. Tell them to hold off until I’m there. I’ll make room in my schedule tomorrow. And Fergus…”
“Yeah?”
“Tell them to treat her well.” At least he could do that—until the time came to treat her badly. Shit.
Fergus raised a brow, but then nodded. The doors closed and the van pulled into the road. As it disappeared around the corner, he turned away, pressing a finger to his forehead. His body still throbbed with lingering desire. There were a number of women he could call up if he wanted sex, but none of them appealed to him at the moment, and the sting of need eventually faded.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed home, vaguely aware of his bodyguards taking up position at his back.
How she would feel when she awoke. Alone? Afraid? Or something else entirely?
…
Get out of my fucking dreams, you goddamn motherfucker.
The bastard had been kissing her again. Whispering sweet fucking nothings, weaving his seductive skills through her sleep.
Her drugged sleep.
Bastard.
She couldn’t believe she had lost it so completely. One crappy kiss, and every rational thought had run for cover. Not that it would have made much difference. Not against four of them, as well as Ethan. She hadn’t sensed the other two—they must have been too far off—but she hadn’t exactly been paying attention. She should have been ready for anything, though. Only she was tired. Not sleeping well. Had wanted it over.
Maybe Rose could have gone up against five men, especially with Dave to back her up. She could zap that many, but it exhausted her. Or Dave could have shot them. Maybe he would have shot Ethan—is that what had held her back? Because she didn’t want her goddamned dream lover shot dead? But really, it hadn’t been an option. Shoot-outs in busy London streets were not a good idea. Even if they were willing to risk hitting innocent bystanders, not to mention hitting her—she’d been right in the middle of the group—they couldn’t risk the exposure.
So she’d told Rose to back off. Let them take her. Rose hadn’t wanted to, but had given in finally, when she’d seen the odds. At least Sadie had managed to transfer all the information she had on Ethan before Rose had rode away. They would find her.
And Ethan had no clue about the telepathy thing, so she had a huge advantage. She could read the guard’s minds, find out where she was. When Jake got back within range, he would trace her. She just hoped the whole torture thing wouldn’t be too bad.
Anyway, it served her right.
Never go on a mission without backup. Jake had told her that more than once. And she hadn’t listened, because Ethan Weiland was her fucking dream lover, and maybe in the back of her stupid mind, she’d wanted him to be a good guy.
When in reality, he was as bad as they got. The baddest of the bad. One of the leaders of the Conclave.
She wasn’t the best mind reader in the world, but all the same, she’d gotten a good insight into the workings of the Conclave while she’d been in his head. He’d been born to the group, grown up believing in its right to rule the world.
And while she had picked up some doubts, she guessed his loyalty was bone deep.
She took a deep breath. Time to take stock of her surroundings. She was still dressed—thank God—except for her boots and jacket, which someone had obviously taken off, and she was lying on a narrow cot. She pushed herself up, wincing at the pain in her head and rubbing at her upper arm where they’d stabbed her with the needle.
Her head was vaguely fuzzy, but the drug was wearing off rapidly. The Tribe all had super-fast metabolisms and also vastly improved healing abilities. She’d be feeling much worse if she were a normal human.
She was in a cell, about nine feet by nine feet, with plain white walls, a door opposite where she lay, with a glass window in the center and an alcove at the back where she could see a toilet and basin. The room was bare of furniture except the cot attached to the wall and a small table beside it. On it stood a bottle of water.
At the sight of it, she realized she was immensely thirsty, her throat dry, mouth parched. She picked up the bottle, unscrewed the top, and took a long gulp. It cleared the last of the cobwebs from her head. Reaching out, she found the whispers of a few minds, but they were too distant for her to pull out anything concrete. Getting up, she dragged on her boots, stretched, paced the small room, and tried not to think about being tortured. Then she paced some more.
She’d never been good with being confined. In the months before they’d broken free of their government controllers, they’d been under lockdown. She’d gone stir crazy being contained to barracks. Now, she could feel the familiar sensation of panic building inside her. At least then, she hadn’t been alone.
Finally, when she thought she might start banging on the walls, she sensed someone approaching. Three someones actually. One she recognized from yesterday, Ethan’s personal assistant—Fergus Baker. Ex-military. There was also a doctor and a guard. Neither knew much.
By the time the door unlocked, she was sitting composed on the bed. Fergus frowned when he saw her. Clearly, she shouldn’t be looking this bright, this soon. She forced herself to wilt a little.
“Thanks for the water,” she said.
“Ethan said we were to make sure you were comfortable.” And he couldn’t understand why.
“Aw, isn’t he a sweetie.”
He shook his head. He thought she was crazy. But he also didn’t understand Ethan’s behavior. He turned and nodded to the doctor, a tall skinny man with dark hair and eyes like a rabid ferret.
After placing his bag on the table, like he was a proper doctor with a patient, he shone a torch in her eyes, took her blood pressure, listened to her heart. He was checking to make sure she was okay for the interrogation. That she wouldn’t collapse with a heart attack when they tortured her. How sweet. They cared.
He’d be there, just in case, and he was looking forward to it. The man was a fucking perverted sadist. He licked his lips. Maybe he’d get to see her breasts. She didn’t even want to think about that.
She sat on her hands, fighting the urge to snap the skinny guy’s neck.
She could do it before the guard reacted.
They wouldn’t kill her. They still wanted information.
She came out of his head, because it wasn’t doing her any good in there—glimpses from previous interrogations he’d been lucky enough to sit in on kept popping up. And it was making her queasy. But it also hardened her against her dream lover. These were bad people. Which meant Ethan was also a bad person.
She tried the guard. He was nothing but a paid grunt. He’d served under Fergus in the army and was loyal. But she did get the location of the place. They were in Kent. Not too far from London. Hopefully, Jake would pick her up.
Fergus was confused. She wasn’t behaving normally; she should have been more panicked. She could do panicked.
“Why am I here? Where am I? Please, I didn’t mean any harm. I saw the chance to get a little bit of money and grabbed it. But let me go, and I won’t say anything to anyone.” She spoke fast, reached out, touched his hand. “Just let me go.”
“Can’t do that.”
What a surprise. Funny thing was, Fergus wasn’t a bad man. He just believed in Ethan, who had saved his life while they were both in the army. Ethan had been in the army? She hadn’t picked that up. If Ethan said this needed doing, then Fergus would do it. He was a little worried that Ethan wasn’t thinking straight, that he was thinking with his cock and not with his head. She had a brief image of herself and Ethan in the alley last night as Fergus had seen them. Wrapped around each other, kissing, his hands digging into her ass, holding her so close as if they were one. She had a flashback to how that had felt, heat and wetness and… It had been far better in reality than in her dreams, and she hadn’t considered that possible. She’d been primed, that was all.
Don’t go there. Never again.
“Please.”
“When the time comes, tell them what they want to know.”
“If I tell them, they won’t hurt me?”
She read the answer in his mind. No. It wouldn’t stop the torture, but it might make it less messy.
“No, they won’t hurt you,” he lied. The bastard. “I’ll send someone with some food.”
And they all trooped out.
How long until Jake found her? Too long she was betting.
…
His father’s office was in an unassuming building right in the center of London. Old and only a few stories high—his father said he didn’t feel comfortable in high-rise office buildings after 9/11. But then, he had been there on that day in a business meeting. It was bound to have a profound effect on a person, and in fact, on the whole Conclave as an organization. They had come to see that mankind was teetering on the edge of total annihilation. How long until some crazy terrorist group decided to go nuclear or to release some man-made virus into the atmosphere that would wipe everyone out? He knew those weapons were already in existence. Hell, the Conclave had developed numerous ones, some which were indiscriminate, some of which would target certain genetic types. As yet they’d never been used, but he was aware there were those in the top echelons who believed that they needed an act to show that they could destroy the world and so bring some sort of order into the chaos.
It sounded a good idea in theory, if you didn’t dwell too much on the collateral damage. Ethan had voted against it. There had to be other, better ways.
As he entered the outer room, the door to his father’s office opened and a woman stepped out. She quirked a brow as she saw him.
“Ethan, how lovely to see you.”
Not.
Tall, blond, and slim, in a smart black suit, she was stunningly beautiful. He felt like backing away slowly, as you would from a cobra. He nodded, but didn’t offer his hand. “Lauren.”
Lauren was one of the strongest proponents of the “act now” strategy. Ethan considered her a dirty bomb waiting to go off. If he ever were in charge, one of his first actions would be to diffuse her. He imagined she was aware of this. If there were one person he suspected, over the others, of being complicit in his mother’s death, she stood before him now. He’d just never come up with a motive—his mother had not been an active member of the Conclave.
Lauren gave him a small smile and then slipped past him. He felt better once she had left the room.
The old man was waiting for him, though he didn’t appear all that old. In fact, he looked much younger than his eighty years—tall and lean in a dark gray suit and maroon tie. Had he had some sort of treatment? Ethan had heard rumors that the Conclave was doing research into longevity. He’d no doubt be told more when the project came to fruition.
Would he want to live longer? He wasn’t sure.
“What did Lauren want?” he asked his father as he entered the office. It was unusual for members to meet face-to-face except for at the annual conference.
“Me—I think.”
“What?”
“She thinks we should join our two great families together.”
“You’re kidding?”
His father’s lips twitched. “You don’t think a beautiful woman like Lauren would want to marry an old man like me?”
Actually, he thought Lauren would marry anyone who would increase her influence in the Conclave. Was this the motive he’d been missing?
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t touch the woman. Sit down,” his father said, waving a hand at the chair in front of the desk.
They rarely met in person these days. He loved his father, but there would always be that niggle of doubt that he had let down Ethan’s mother. She’d died when Ethan was eighteen. She’d fallen from a horse, miscarried, and bled to death before anyone found her.
Ethan had never believed it to be an accident, as everyone had claimed. His gut instincts, honed even at that age, had told him that there was something not right about the death. But his father had sworn he’d looked into the accident, and that’s exactly what it had been.
There was a photo of her on his father’s desk. She hadn’t been beautiful in any conventional sense—her nose was too long, her mouth too wide, her long dark hair a wild uncontrollable cloud about her face. But anyone who saw her was drawn to her. She’d been an artist and so vividly alive that even now, fourteen years later, he found it hard to comprehend that she was gone.
He’d known she wasn’t happy in the later years. Though she was born to the Conclave, she’d never really embraced their ways, but she’d loved his father.
It had been a bad time after her death. Ethan’s mind had been enveloped in darkness. What was the point in being leaders of the most powerful organization in the known world if you couldn’t save the ones you loved?
Unable to reconcile his feelings, he’d run away, joined the army, spent the next four years fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan, resisting his father’s pleas to come home. Eventually he’d been captured, held in an Iraqi prison, tortured, until the Conclave had done what the army couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do and rescued him.
He’d come back home then, and strangely, the time away had made him see more clearly. Everyone was corrupt: the military, politicians, big businesses. They all had their own agendas, none of which involved the good of mankind. Oh, there were decent people about, but they tended not to reach the positions of power where they could actually influence anything that mattered.
You had to fight fire with fire.
And so he’d taken up his hereditary position within the Conclave, and maybe one day, he would replace his father as ultimate leader. And he would try and do some good to offset the bad. After all, there had to be people in the world willing to do the bad things in order to maybe, hopefully, ultimately, make the world a better place. His father had always said he was a dreamer…and it hadn’t been a compliment.
But deep down, that hadn’t been the real reason he’d returned. Only the ultimate leader had access to all the secrets of the Conclave. So he would bide his time, until one day, he took control. Only then, he was sure, would he find the truth about what had happened to his mother.
And after that, who knew?
“Tell me about Forrester. What was he working on? Do we know why he was killed?”
His father pursed his lips, and Ethan got the distinct impression he wasn’t going to like what came next. “Forrester wasn’t working on anything of importance. I believe he was killed because of his connection to a General Webber.”
Ethan ran his mind over the list of assets. “General Webber was assassinated six months ago. And he was originally recruited by Forrester.” But that didn’t make a lot of sense. There should be no record of the connection between the two men. Ethan, in his role as Asset Controller, was the only person who knew all the recruits and how they were connected. “There’s more?” There had better be fucking more. His father wouldn’t have called this meeting just for that.
“General Webber was working on a project for Travis.”
Travis was his cousin, though there had never been any love lost between them and they rarely communicated. “So?”
“I believe, though I haven’t had confirmation, that Travis felt Forrester was a risk. So he had him taken out.”
“Travis ordered the assassination? Why didn’t he come through me? All terminations come through my office.”
“No doubt we’ll find that out when Travis returns from South America. He wanted to discuss the matter in person. He’s supposed to be back within days.”
Travis had vanished from sight six months ago. That had been around the time General Webber was assassinated. He’d not thought about Travis’s disappearance much; it wasn’t totally unusual for their members to take a break—the job could be stressful. But now, it sounded as if he might have gone into hiding. Only that didn’t make a lot of sense. The Conclave had the resources to combat any enemy. And if that were the case, why come back now? Was it because Forrester was dead?
He shook his head. He couldn’t see how Forrester was a threat. Though if Travis had been monitoring the man’s movements, he would probably have come to the same conclusion as Ethan—that he was about to run.
Something occurred to him. “Was it Travis’s idea to come back to London now?”
A smile flickered on his father’s face. “No. He would have had to return for the annual conference anyway, but you could say he was quite reluctant.”
But he had to. No one could refuse a direct order from his father. Which meant Travis did not want to resurface yet. What had him running scared?
Ethan couldn’t wait a few days, though. He needed to know now. He needed to find another way to get at whoever had put a hooker up to blackmailing him. While he didn’t want to look too closely at his reasons, he’d never been one to deny the truth. He’d ordered the interrogation of many people. But the thought of her in pain…
“Do we know what Webber was working on?”
“Not in detail. Again, Travis said he would fill us in on his return.”
“What do you know now?”
Something in his voice must have alerted his father because he narrowed his eyes and studied Ethan for a moment. “What’s happened?”
“I was seen at Forrester’s house on the night of the hit. By a hooker. She contacted me yesterday, wanted money to keep quiet. I have her in custody.”
“How the hell did she identify you or get a contact number?”
“Exactly.” She had to have had help. Was it more than coincidence that had her there the night Forrester was murdered? Ethan didn’t believe in coincidences. So there was a good chance that she was linked to Travis somehow. Had she been sent to Forrester’s to confirm the hit? But why try and blackmail him afterward? Had someone suggested it—given her his private number? If so, they needed to know who. And why. None of this made sense.
“Has she said anything?”
“Not yet. The interrogation is scheduled for this afternoon, but I doubt she knows anything important. So I’d like whatever information you have.”
His father thought for a moment. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t much. The files were encrypted and only Travis has the key, but he told me a little.” He was silent for a moment and Ethan bit back his impatience. His father was studying him closely—he knew him too well. “Why does this matter? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
For a moment, he considered lying. But sometimes, the truth worked better than lies. “I like the girl, and I don’t want to interrogate her. If I can find an alternative way to get to the bottom of this, I’d prefer it.”
“You always did have a soft touch, but you always do what’s necessary.” He sighed. “We sometimes have to do things we don’t like, but if you can find another way to the same answer, I won’t argue the point.” He got up and walked to the window, standing with his back to Ethan as he looked out.
Finally, he turned around. “Travis told me he’d been working on a project exploring the potential uses of telepathy.”
Ethan sat back in his chair as shock hit him in the gut. “He’s trying to create telepaths?”
“No. According to Travis, they already exist. The project was more about exploring the ways they could be used and controlled.” His father gave a weak smile. “I don’t know about you, but it makes me a little twitchy to think there’s someone out there who could get inside my head.”
“It would certainly make secrecy difficult. Jesus.”
“Exactly. However useful, the project will be terminated once Travis is back.”
“Do we have any details? How far? How powerful.”
“Well, presumably Travis believes he’s safe in South America.”
“Great, but not much help.”
“Actually, he told me ‘same room’ only. Visual contact is needed. Touching is better. The closer, the stronger. But clearly something must have gone wrong. Something that made Travis decide to disappear for six months. And be reluctant to return.”
“He’s lost control of his assets?”
His father sighed. “I would guess so. I ordered him back. He’s on his way. We’ll find out everything, and then we’ll shut this thing down. However useful—I don’t like it.” He returned to his seat.
“Does this project have a name?” He would start digging, though if Travis had hidden the records, it was doubtful he would find anything.
“He referred to it as the Scottish Tribe.”
That sounded unlikely to be of any use. “I’ll see what I can find. Can you let me know as soon as he gets in?”
“I will.”
Time to find out about telepaths and how his pretty hooker fit into all this.