“Whitney has several experiments going. We’re just beginning to understand how many. He adopted female babies from foreign countries and experimented on them. Regardless of his security clearance, no one was going to authorize that, so he kept the girls hidden using various means. Briony was adopted out to a family, but he kept tabs on her, insisting on mapping out her education and training as well as sending his private doctor to monitor her health. I met her a few weeks ago.”
She tried not to react. It could be a trick—a setup. Another test. Whitney often tested them, and if they failed, the consequences were dire. She said nothing, just stared up at his face. The mask gave nothing away. She was good at reading people, but not him. Even touching him gave her no information, only a strange, soothing peace. And she shouldn’t feel peaceful; she should feel alert. Could it be a new kind of interrogation drug? She almost wished it were. She feared it was the beginning of an addiction to a man, and that was simply not acceptable.
“You’re identical twins, obviously. She looks just like you.”
Mari turned her face away from him, knowing she couldn’t hide her expression. She had longed for information on her sister for years. Now, here it was, if she could believe it. Dropped straight into her lap, and how big of a coincidence was that? She bit her lip to keep from a sarcastic reply. It had to be a setup. There was no way she could casually meet this man and have him know her long-lost sister. But even if he was lying, she was so starved for news of Briony she wanted him to keep talking, and that was just plain pathetic.
“Are you listening?”
Of course she was listening. “I like fairy tales.”
“I can stop then. I wouldn’t want to bore you.” He stepped away from her, back toward the shadows, away from the light. It was the first restless move she’d seen him make, when he was so in control. The movement reminded her of a great caged tiger, pacing with impatience and frustration. He needed to be outside, in the mountains, away from civilization. He was too wild, too much of a predator to be caged in a house.
“I was enjoying the story.” Had she revealed too much, or had she managed to sound as if that was all it was to her—a fairy tale? She wanted him back, wanted him closer. As soon as he retreated, pain engulfed her. “You’re an anchor,” she said.
Without an anchor to draw psychic backlash, she was always wide open to assault. Much like someone born with autism, she no longer had the necessary filters to keep her brain from being under constant attack by all the stimulation around her. He was controlling that for her, she realized.
“Yes. So is Jack.”
Jack. The beautiful one. The one who had Ken’s face. How did it feel to stand beside his brother every day, to look into the face he should have had? It had to hurt. No matter how stoic he was, no matter how much he loved his brother, he had to look at that face and hurt.
Mari studied him as he leaned one hip lazily against the far wall, there in the shadows. She was certain it was a place he was far more comfortable. Did he realize the scars weren’t as obvious as in the glare of light? That when darkness touched him, his face was nearly as handsome as Jack’s? She doubted it. He favored the shadows simply because he could disappear into them.
“And Jack knows this Briony you claim is my sister?”
He sighed. “We’re going to play games?”
“You’re a soldier, probably black ops. How much are you willing to give up? Not even your name, rank, and serial number. You don’t exist in the military, do you?”
“I know your name. It’s Marigold. Your sister told me. She suffers tremendous pain when she tries to remember you, because Whitney manipulated her memories. She’s been frantic to find you. Whitney had her adopted parents killed when they refused to allow her to go to Colombia. You know why he was so determined she go there?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “He wanted her to run into Jack. He wanted her to meet him so he could continue his latest experiment. He wants their child.”
Her heart slammed hard in her chest and the bile rose again. This time she couldn’t stop it. “I’m going to be sick.”
He was there in an instant, handing her a small pan. It was humiliating to lie in bed throwing her guts up under his piercing gaze. She wanted to scream at him to go away and leave her so she could rage at the unfairness—at the betrayal. She had sacrificed everything to keep Briony safe. Everything. She had endured her sterile life, living without a home or family, never seeing the outside of the compound unless she was running a mission, the punishing training, the discipline and experiments—all of it. She endured it without protest so Briony could have a life somewhere. That was the bargain she’d made as a child, with the devil. He’d promised her that if she cooperated, Briony could live a dream life. She could have the fairy tale. Love. Laughter. Family. Briony was supposed to have it all.
Ken handed her a wet cloth to wipe her mouth. She didn’t meet those glittering eyes. She couldn’t. If he was telling the truth—and she suddenly suspected he was—her entire life had been a lie, and if Ken saw her face right then, he would know.
Whitney cared nothing for the soldiers he housed in his compounds. She had watched him as he made his observations on them all, his cold snake eyes excited and fanatical when he got his results, and angry and malevolent when he didn’t. They weren’t real to him—not people—only test subjects.
“Did they meet in Colombia?” Her voice was a whisper, a strangled sound that was too close to tears. Tears were a weakness—one soldiers didn’t indulge in. How often had she heard that as a child? Soldiers didn’t play. Soldiers were about duty and hardship and skill.
“No. Her parents refused to allow her to go and he had them murdered. She walked in right after and found them.” His voice was gentle, as if he knew he was hurting her with the telling. “She has brothers, but like you she needs an anchor. Living in close proximity without one was hell on her at times. Particularly as a child, before she was strong enough to build some small protections.”
Mari nodded. She knew what it was like to be bombarded with too much emotion, and a child living in a household with parents and brothers would have headaches and blackouts, maybe even brain bleeds. “He did it on purpose to see how tough she would be, didn’t he? I was in a controlled, sterile environment and she was put out in a chaotic, busy household. He wanted to compare how we handled it.”