She felt betrayed in every sense of the word, belittled by what he’d done.
She realized abruptly that she did believe every awful thing they’d said about Miles Cavendish, as hard as it was to accept. It was accepting that his blood ran through her veins that she was having trouble with.
She hadn’t believed him when he’d spun her the tale about her mother. She hadn’t wanted to believe it and therefore she’d tried to keep an open mind. Deep down, she’d felt the entire time that he was a liar. She didn’t know him, but she knew her mother. There was just the two of them. They’d been close enough that she felt like she knew her mother better than anyone. The very fact that her mother had never said one word about him seemed proof positive that he was a liar. She didn’t believe her mother would’ve stayed on the run throughout her life without a reason.
And that reason had to be that she was terrified of the man she’d married. If it had been a ‘misunderstanding’ as he claimed, she might or might not have reconciled with him, but it seemed probable that she would’ve vented about it—at least at some point.
She’d never understood why her mother kept them on the move. There’d been many times when she’d resented it, become angry and argued with her mother and just generally been a pain in the ass. She had a hard time making friends. She didn’t fit in easily and it had made her miserable every time she made a friend and then had to give them up until she’d finally ceased even trying to connect. She’d nursed a lot of resentment toward her mother because of it.
And to think all that time her mother was just trying to protect her!
She was so sorry she’d doubted her mother, angered that her mother hadn’t trusted her enough to explain it.
She must have found out what he was doing, Anna thought abruptly. She must have discovered he was a terrorist!
* * * *
Anna was huddled in a tight ball in the middle of his bed when Simon entered the room. He checked momentarily, his gaze flickering over her, and then continued inside.
Grabbing his easy chair, he pushed it closer and settled in it, studying her, trying to read her ‘tells’ as he generally did with prisoners. He discovered she was much harder to read than his usual suspect, mostly because he was having trouble putting it out of his head that she was in his bed. She was still shaken. He could see that, badly, but was it only shock? Or was guilt, at least a little, behind her nervous movements?
“Where am I?”
“I’ll ask the questions.”
Her lips tightened. The show of spirit, minor though it was, surprised him.
“Just tell me one thing. Are you … some sort of … thug? Are you after him because he cheated you? Or … what?”
Anger washed through him. He supposed, given the way they’d taken her, he deserved it, but it still pissed him off. “I’m High Guardian—head of the Watchmen.”
She frowned, turning that over. “That’s territorial lawmen, right?”
“It is.”
She lifted her head and looked around. “This isn’t a jail.”
And this interview wasn’t going the way he’d expected either! “The Watch Center was damaged when the bomb went off. I was in it at the time, so I think you can probably understand that I’m pretty fucking pissed off.”
Her gaze flickered over him. He didn’t doubt she was assessing the damage. She looked away after a brief appraisal. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t have anything to do with it. I didn’t even know about it.”
“I guess it’s unanimous, then. Air-breathers don’t give a fuck what happens here.
One would’ve thought it would warrant at least five seconds on the news considering the death toll.”
She blinked at him, turning red, and cleared her throat. “I don’t actually watch the news. It’s always depressing.”
“That’s a little dangerous in this day and time, isn’t it? Not keeping abreast of the weather at least.”
She shrugged. “Water City always sounds the early warning if there’s dangerous weather headed our way. In any case, I’d notice if my neighbors broke their moorings and moved away.”
“Would you?” he asked dryly.
“Maybe not,” she admitted uncomfortably. “But I always have an assistant to keep me informed.”
“Tell me about Paul.”
Anna felt her face heat with embarrassment. “I don’t really know much about him. When I fired my last assistant, the research center sent him over—the company funding my project. He had all the right papers. I just assumed he’d been thoroughly checked out.”
“You said you’d found out that your father was your patron and he’d sent Paul.”
She shrugged. “Either he was lying about being my sponsor or he owns the company or some part of it. I don’t know. I don’t even know if what he said about Paul was true. Although ….”
“Although?”
She lifted her hands to her cheeks. “He … uh … I thought he liked me, you know? He acted like he did. Anyway, he told me he was a member of Humans for Humanity and kept trying to talk me into joining them. I’m not really much for socializing, though, you know? And I also didn’t think it was a very good idea to get personally involved with my assistant, but he said they were having a get together, a party, to welcome new members and talked me into going with him. I actually thought it was sort of a date. But then, when we got there, he introduced me to Miles Cavendish and vanished and Miles spent most of the evening … flirting, I thought, and then he took me to his office and told me …. A pack of lies, I guess.”
“Humans for Humanity is the terrorist organization that Miles Cavendish started thirty years ago and built into a multi-national group, whose sole purpose is to eradicate mutants.”
Anna gaped at him. “That can’t be right! Everybody knows about the organization—I mean everybody! And most of the wealthy people in the U.S. are members. It’s an elite … social club, really, but they lobby against genetic … uh … altering the human race artificially. They believe humans should evolve naturally.”
“It’s a terrorist organization and well known as one—to lawmen worldwide,”
Simon said grimly.
Anna blinked at him. “Well! I don’t understand how they could get away with being so … public!”
“It’s because of that façade that they get away with it—that and the money behind it. As you say, the wealthiest people in the world, and most influential, are members.”
Anna pressed a hand to her chest. “But I’m not! I’m not wealthy or influential and I’m not a member!”
Simon pulled the papers out of the file he’d brought with him and tossed them onto the bed at her knees. “You didn’t write those?”
Anna stared down at the papers unhappily. To think that she’d been so pleased with herself when she’d been taken seriously enough to be published! “I have a right to my own opinion!” she said defensively. “Yes! I wrote them. That doesn’t make me a terrorist, damn it!”
“No, that just makes you a racist and a bigot. Helping your father build a bomb would make you a terrorist. Did you? Help him?”
Anna gaped at him for a moment in shock and then glared at him. “That’s completely untrue! I don’t hate anybody! I certainly don’t hate them because of what they felt like they had to do to survive! If you’d actually read the damned papers, you’d know that!”
“I read them,” Simon countered although the truth was he’d barely skimmed through them. He hadn’t had any interest in them beyond the fact that they seemed to support an affiliation with her father.
“Changing people into something else isn’t the answer to our problems!
Eventually, the imbalance causing the climate changes will right itself, but humans will still be forever altered into a different species altogether if they continue playing with our genetics! No one knows what the long range effects could be! We could completel
y split off and take different evolutionary paths! I’m against experimentation that might bring us grief in the long run. That doesn’t make me in favor of … killing people!”
“So … you’re saying you don’t agree with your father?”
“I don’t know the man. I don’t know what he thinks or what he does, but if that’s what he’s been doing, then, no! I don’t agree with him … at all!”
Simon nodded. “Have you ever been to New Atlanta before?”
Anna stared at him, trying to shift gears. “Is that where we are?”
“Answer the question, please.”
“No.”
“Tell me about your mother.”
“Tell you what?”
“You said she left your father before you were born.”
Anna glared at him. “I said my mother told me he died before I was born.”
“So … you met him when?”
“You’ve got a worse memory than I have!” Anna snapped irritably. “Paul took me to the party at his house about a week ago. And I don’t know that he is my father, damn it! My mother said my father died!”
“He is your father.”
Anna studied him unhappily. “You’re sure? There couldn’t be a mistake?”
“So your mother lied to you about her association with Miles Cavendish.”
Anna glared at him. “If you’re implying my mother was a liar …!”
“If she told you he was dead, that was a lie.”
She picked the pillow up off the bed and threw it at him. “Don’t you dare talk about my mother!”
Simon caught the pillow and dropped it on the floor. “What else did she tell you about your father?”
“Nothing,” Anna said sullenly.
Simon lifted his brows. “I find that hard to believe!”
Anna narrowed her eyes at him. “And I give a shit what you believe, you asshole! I want a damned lawyer! I’m not talking to you anymore!”
“You don’t have the right to an attorney. You’re being held as a suspected terrorist,” Simon said coolly. Getting up, he left the room, leaving her to stew over that for a while.
“That went well,” Ian said dryly.
“Bite me!” Simon snarled.
Ian grinned at his back, but wiped the smile off his face as he entered the room where their ‘terrorist’ was sulking.
* * * *
Anna hated it, but she was desperate. Moving to the door, she rapped on it with her fist. “Hello? Is anybody there? I need to … go!”
Hearing footsteps outside, she stepped back from the door. It opened and Caleb stuck his head in, his expression questioning.
“I have to go. There’s no bathroom in here.”
“The door wasn’t locked.” He stepped out. “Joshua is using the shower in this bath. There’s another bathroom on the other side of the living area.”
Red faced, Anna merely nodded and followed the direction he’d pointed out, feeling the beginnings of anger on top of her embarrassment. To think she’d been doing the pee-pee dance for a damned hour and the fucking door wasn’t even locked! How was she supposed have known that? They’d just done it to make her feel like a complete moron!
She jolted to a halt when she reached the living room and discovered Simon sprawled out on the couch on his belly—buck ass naked!
She wasn’t inclined to look upon him with any sort of favor after his nasty remarks about her mother, and yet ….
Oh! What a beautiful sight! What a beautiful back! What a beautiful ass! It made her little heart go pitter patter just looking at him and, unfortunately, she couldn’t dismiss it as fear.
There was a little of that. It added a little extra gallop to her heart, but … she’d never seen such a beautiful male animal!
Except the others. Caleb, she decided, was much prettier in the face. Simon’s face didn’t appeal to her at all. It was all hard angles, too harsh to really consider it handsome—and she certainly didn’t!
He had a nice mouth, though, she thought, swallowing with an effort as the memory surfaced of his mouth on hers.
Resuscitation, moron! It certainly hadn’t felt the least bit … erotic at the time!
Banishing the wayward thoughts with an effort, she tiptoed across the room and found the bathroom she’d been so desperate for—a half bath. A bath and a half didn’t seem like much for four men, but then they were either spotless housekeepers or they didn’t actually spend much time in the place.
It had to be their place. She hadn’t given it that much thought when they’d been questioning her after she’d arrived, one after another until she was so exhausted she began to doze off between sessions. She’d been on an emotional roller coaster, completely off kilter, terrified that they would hurt her until she discovered they were cops—terrified after that when Simon had said she was a suspected terrorist, for that matter.
She’d supposed they might have just settled in to turn her life into a living hell, but they seemed too much at home not to be at home.
She discovered when she left the bathroom that Caleb was in the kitchen, cooking. She didn’t know what it was, but it smelled wonderful and she was starving.
She debated briefly, but she hadn’t had anything to eat and very little to drink since they’d brought her. “Could I … have something?” she asked tentatively when she’d stopped in the doorway.
Caleb glanced around at her in surprise. “Sure. I’m cooking enough for everyone.”
“Do I have to go back to the room?”
He frowned and turned back to the stove. “You’ve got the run of the house. It isn’t like you could leave.”
Anna glanced around and finally pulled out a chair and settled to watch him.
They all wore robes like the one she was wearing if they wore anything at all. She thought it was curious, but then realized she’d never given any thought at all to what life below the sea must be like. “Are you all cops?”
He glanced at her. “We’re watchmen.”
Anna frowned. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
He shrugged. “In a way.”
“How is it different?”
“We’re the city’s first defense. We keep the peace, arrest the wicked, investigate crimes—but we’re also militia.”
Anna mulled that over. “I thought there was a territorial militia?”
“There is, but it’s a big territory. More often than not, if a problem arises, they’re too far away to help, and often engaged.”
“In boundary disputes,” she guessed. “I thought the territory was established.”
“It is. Some countries don’t agree with our borders, though,” he said dryly. “The militia is federal. Their primary focus is to protect America’s interests.”
“Meaning the mineral and ore deposits?”
“Meaning the money,” he agreed dryly, “and a lot of those are close enough to the borders that they fall in the dispute zone.”
Anna fell silent as he took the food up and began to distribute it on plates.
He glanced at her. “Take your pick.”
Getting up, she took two of the plates and carried them to the table. Caleb was looking at her strangely when she returned to carry two more. “Fighting utensils in that drawer,” he murmured, pointing.
Taking that to mean ‘eating’, she went to the drawer and gathered enough for everyone, setting a fork, knife, and spoon beside each plate. “Does everyone have a usual spot?”
He nudged his chin toward a chair across from him. “That one hasn’t been claimed,” he said, smiling faintly. “Although we rarely sit down at the same time.”
“Should I tell them the food’s done?”
He sent her another strange look. “They smelled it. They’ll be here when they get here.”
Shrugging inwardly, Anna settled in the chair he’d indicated. Apparently, it wasn�
�t their custom to wait for everyone to arrive to start eating. Caleb hadn’t even waited for her to sit down and she was standing beside him!
“Were you born here?”
He stiffened, swallowing his food before answering. “Yes—I’m second generation. Simon is third—his father was born here. Ian’s also third generation Atlantean. Joshua is first. He immigrated here with his family when he was a kid.”
She could see Caleb knew the direction of her thoughts. After casting around for a moment for a distraction, she said, “So, really, he grew up here, too.”
“Yes. He’s few years younger than me, but I’ve known him since he was a kid.”
Anna looked at him in surprise. “Really? I thought the two of you were the same age.”
He looked amused. “How old do you think I am?”
“I’m not very good at guessing that sort of thing.”
“How old do you think Joshua is?”
“Like I said …,” Anna said uncomfortably.
“I was just wondering how you arrived at the conclusion that we were the same age if you have no idea how old we are.”
She shrugged. “You look about the same.”
“Except I’m eight years older than he is.”
Anna gaped at him. “You’re joking, right?”
He looked so amused she was sure he must have been teasing. Joshua arrived, to her consternation.
“Anna thinks we look like we’re the same age,” he said, chuckling.
Joshua sent her a startled look and turned red. “He was born here.”
“I know. He told me,” Anna said curiously.
Joshua shrugged. “They don’t age like we do.” He thought it over. “Actually, nobody does down here, even if they weren’t born here. It slows the aging.”
Anna frowned, trying to think if she’d ever heard that or read about it, but it dawned on her that it wasn’t just a matter of her own focus on plants. No one seemed to know much about the Atlanteans. There certainly hadn’t been any studies done that she’d heard of about the long term effects of living beneath the sea.
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