by Maya Banks
Donovan put a hand on Nathan’s shoulder and squeezed. “You haven’t changed. No matter what you might think, you haven’t changed. Not to your family. We love you and support you unconditionally.”
Then Donovan glanced over at Shea. “We’ve got a shitload of stuff to process. I’ve been in touch with Sam. Our first priority is safety. Our second priority is figuring out who we’re dealing with. I’m going to analyze the footage you uploaded and hope to hell it gives us something to work off of. Sam is also ringing Resnick’s bell to see what info he’ll cough up.”
Nathan nodded. “She goes nowhere without me. Just so you know. It’s not an option.”
Ethan snorted. “Hell, like we can’t figure that out? I’m tempted to call Ma and rat you out, but no one wants her on our asses right now. I’m more afraid of her than I am of a whole terrorist cell.”
Donovan didn’t look as convinced. “I get that you want to protect her, Nathan, but it’s entirely possible the safest option for her won’t be tagging along with you.”
Nathan was already shaking his head. “She’s tough, Van. She’s saved my ass more than once. Her looks are deceiving. She’s got more steel in her spine than a lot of men I know. She won’t accept us sticking her in some hole, and furthermore I don’t want that. I want her with me. All the time.”
Donovan blew out his breath. It went against his grain to ever put a woman in danger. His instinct was always to bury them as far underground as possible and then go kick whoever’s ass threatened them.
But Nathan knew that Shea was different. She’d been on her own for a year, and she wasn’t going to fall apart at the first sign of danger. They were…partners…for lack of a better term. He needed her every bit as much as she needed him. She kept him centered. Grounded. And the only way he’d ever be convinced of her safety was if he could see her at all times.
Donovan opened his mouth to speak but then fell silent, his gaze riveted to Shea. Nathan turned to see her get up from her seat. She wobbled a little as she started toward where the men were gathered. Her face was pale and her entire demeanor told him she was in shock.
She gripped the closed journal and took another step. This time he hurriedly rose and crossed the distance to take her other hand. He led her to where the others sat and then simply put her on his lap so she could be near him.
He wrapped his arms around her and whispered close to her ear. “It’s okay, baby. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”
“You need to know this,” she said, her voice scratchy.
Realization hit him in the gut. She’d been crying, even though the signs were gone from her face. He pressed his lips to her shoulder, not knowing what else he could do to comfort her. Not until they knew what she’d learned from the journal.
She raised haunted eyes to his brothers before turning her gaze on Nathan, hurt and confusion brimming in her liquid gaze.
“Grace was right. They weren’t our real parents.”
CHAPTER 26
SHEA’S chest hurt so badly that she could barely squeeze air into and out of her lungs. She was more afraid than ever. Terrified.
And everything she’d thought she’d ever know about herself—her life—was all a lie.
Nathan kissed her shoulder again, and his hand slipped up and down her other arm in a soothing pattern. His brothers and Swanny looked curiously at her, their gazes going from her face to the journal she held so tightly in her grasp.
“I don’t even know how to explain it.” Numbness was rapidly spreading through her veins until she felt disembodied.
“Start from the beginning,” Donovan said gently. “What did you mean by they weren’t your real parents?”
Her breath hiccupped out of her mouth and her shoulders drooped with fatigue and disillusionment. “Apparently my parents…the people who raised me…were scientists. They were heading a top-secret, government-funded project. No one but a few high-ranking government officials even knew of its existence, and they were all military officials. My mother remarked in her journal that it was doubtful the president or members of Congress ever knew about the project.”
“What the hell were they researching?” Ethan asked.
“They weren’t researching,” Shea said softly. “They were creating. Me and my sister, Grace. Though now I wonder if she’s even my sister.”
Nathan stiffened against her. “Wait a minute. Back up.”
She stood, suddenly no longer able to sit still against him. She paced away and then turned to face the assembled group again.
“According to my mother…” She shook her head and swallowed back the knot in her throat. “According to Andrea Peterson, Grace and I were lab-created experiments. Who knows who my real parents were. I doubt they even knew each other. They chose ‘samples’ from a selection of people who were particularly gifted and possessed ‘unusual talents,’ though none of the so-called abilities are outlined in her journal. And then these samples were basically mixed, implanted in a volunteer uterus, and they took the baby when it was born.”
The looks of horror on the men’s faces were a mirror of her own disgust. Nathan’s face was drawn tight, his eyes dark, nearly black.
“What was their objective?” Ethan asked.
Shea sighed. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure Andrea knew. She was told they were going to study psychic anomaly occurring in the human population and how or if it could be reproduced through controlled experiments. But she grew increasingly more concerned with the way Grace and I were used. She expressed guilt and remorse for being part of a ‘devil’s creation.’ ”
Tears burned the edges of her eyes. Devil’s creation. That was what her own mother considered her and Grace. Some abomination, not from God. She and Grace had been created in some sterile laboratory to be poked and prodded, their abilities used for God only knew what.
Nathan stood, as if he couldn’t remain seated a moment longer. His fingers were curled into tight fists and his agitation was broadcasting so strongly that it filled her mind, swamping her with his rage and his horror.
She turned away, no longer able to stand the terrible look in his eyes.
His hands slid over her shoulders, and he turned her, almost roughly, to face him. He gripped her, holding her there so she had no choice but to comply with his silent demand.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re thinking right now,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t know because you’ve shut yourself off from me. I can only guess as to why, but it’s bullshit. You have to know I don’t give a damn. You’re not some lab experiment. Not some accident of science. You’re a fucking miracle. My miracle. I don’t give a shit how you came into existence but I thank God every day that you did. Has it ever occurred to you that you were born with a much higher purpose? One that transcended whatever fuck of a reason those bastards played around in their goddamn lab for?”
She stared up at him in awe, so shocked by his vehemence that she couldn’t even begin to know how to respond. What could she say to that?
A tear slid down her cheek and he thumbed it away, his expression so fierce that it should have scared her. And then he simply pulled her into his arms, cupping her head to his chest as he held her tight enough to crush her ribs.
She didn’t care. She only cared that he held her, that she absorbed his strength, his warmth and, oh God, the aching awareness that she mattered so much to him.
He tangled his hand in her hair and then pressed his mouth to the top of her head. He trembled against her, part in anger, but she could feel the emotion pouring into her mind.
“What else, Shea?” he asked quietly. “We need to know everything. But I need you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You aren’t alone. And I don’t give a flying fuck how you came into existence.”
She pulled away and smiled shakily up at him. Then she laced her fingers with his and squeezed. She glanced sideways at Swanny and Nathan’s brothers, embarrassed that they’d witnessed her upset.<
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She tugged one hand away from Nathan and wiped hastily at her face, pushing aside her hair. When she would have pulled away from Nathan entirely, he tightened his hold on her hand and guided her back to where they’d been sitting.
This time he settled her between him and Swanny. He made sure they were touching, his leg against hers, his hand covering her knee.
She sucked in a deep breath, determined to make it through the rest of the telling without breaking down again.
“Andrea and Brandon were appalled at the treatment Grace and I received. It wasn’t that we were being tortured or beaten or abused, but we were treated as test subjects, not babies. It was all very cold. We were fed and our basic needs seen to, but little else. We endured endless testing and experimentation. In one entry, Andrea recounted that Grace was purposely cut with a knife to gauge my reaction. Conversely, I was also injured to test Grace’s ability to heal me. And they logged the results, analyzed them, brainstormed ways of utilizing our abilities in a military setting.”
“What the hell did they expect you to be able to accomplish?” Ethan demanded.
Shea glanced at Nathan’s brother. He was bigger than both Donovan and Nathan. Taller, broader shouldered. Black hair and startling blue eyes. Nathan was slightly taller than Donovan, but he had a similar build. Lean and muscular. Donovan was a bit heavier, but Shea guessed that under normal circumstances Nathan would have been bulkier. His body was still carved by the time he’d spent imprisoned and nearly starved.
Nathan’s hair was lighter than Donovan’s and his eyes were dark brown. Donovan’s were green, mesmerizing for the odd shade. Not lighter, but not emerald either.
Alone, one of them was enough to intimidate the most fearsome person. Together? They were formidable.
Her gaze drifted to Swanny, her thoughts momentarily interrupted by her analysis of the men she’d now place her trust in. Her heart wrenched. He was tall and lean. Almost haggard in appearance. His cheeks were hollow and his skin was stretched tight over his bones. And the scars on his face were still puckered and raw looking, even months after his rescue. They would take time to heal. They’d never disappear, but with time some of the redness would fade and they wouldn’t look quite so vivid or angry.
She very nearly reached for his hand, but curled her fingers into a fist instead. He wouldn’t appreciate her pity, and how did you pity a man who’d survived hell? You didn’t pity him. You admired him.
“Shea,” Nathan prompted softly.
She flinched, embarrassed at how she’d drifted. She tried to focus her thoughts again. She seemed to be drifting in a sea of confusion, anger and heart sickness.
She glanced back up at Ethan and bit at her bottom lip. Her stomach clenched and she couldn’t explain the sudden nerves or the panic creeping up her spine.
Baby, take deep breaths. I’m here. I know this is a lot to deal with. We’ll do it together.
The loving, soothing voice in her head sent waves of comfort through her veins. She visibly relaxed and sent Nathan a look of gratitude. His brothers glanced sharply at Nathan as if they were aware that something had transpired between him and Shea, but they didn’t know what.
Again she refocused on Ethan. “I’m sorry,” she said in a quiet, even voice. She was proud of the fact that her voice no longer sounded choked or full of tears. She was determined to get through this.
Ethan’s expression softened. He looked like he wanted to reach out and take her hand or offer a gesture of comfort. It seemed odd, because he appeared so aloof. All business.
“Take your time, Shea. I know this has to be difficult for you.”
She nodded. “To answer your question, again, according to Andrea’s journal, there were several possibilities the organization that funded the research wanted to explore. Remote healing for one. Having someone far removed from the dangers of war or battle with the ability to heal through a psychic link.”
“Holy hell, is that even possible?” Donovan asked.
Swanny nodded, injecting himself into the conversation for the first time. Then he glanced sideways at Shea. “Was it you or your sister inside me, when I was so injured?”
“It was Grace,” Shea whispered. “I didn’t have a connection to you. Only Nathan. Nathan and I were the conduits to you.”
“That’s incredible,” Donovan muttered. “Jesus, I can see why they’re so hot to track you and your sister down. Can you imagine what this would mean? You’d basically have an indestructible fighting force. They’d go down and then get right back up.”
Shea shook her head. “It’s faulty. All of it. It takes a terrible toll on Grace. I doubt she’d be able to heal more than one person at a time, and if the wounds were mortal, they could kill her. Even if they didn’t, she’d be too weak, too devastated, to continue on. And I can’t even heal, which makes Grace the more valuable commodity. I have no doubt they’re after us both, but it only makes sense they’d want what Grace has to offer more.”
Ethan ran a hand through his hair. “This sounds like some freaky sci-fi movie. No offense, Shea.”
She nodded sadly. “It does, doesn’t it? Imagine finding out your entire life is one of those freaky sci-fi movies.”
“So you can’t heal?” Donovan asked.
“No. I can’t even control my telepathy. I heard Nathan. But why not Swanny? Why not everyone else? It’s frustrating. I’ll hear someone out of the blue. They may not even be in danger. It could be perfectly normal. Someone summarizing a grocery list. Or someone in need. Someone sad. Happy.”
“It sounds pretty damn awful,” Ethan said grimly. “How the hell do you deal with that? It would make me crazy.”
“But you did heal,” Donovan said, his brow creasing in concentration. “You were a conduit for Grace. I’d say that makes you every bit as valuable as Grace.”
Shea shrugged. “Who knows if that’s what they think? I haven’t stuck around long enough to ask questions. I just know I don’t want my sister anywhere near them.”
“I think it’s naïve to think they wouldn’t want to harness your abilities as well,” Donovan persisted.
“Their only concern when they held me down and beat me was to extract information about Grace,” she said flatly.
Donovan held up a hand. “Bear with me here. I’m not trying to be an asshole. They beat you, but you told Nathan it was a methodically executed beating. They hurt you, no doubt, but they didn’t damage you. They were careful not to risk hurting you seriously, and by that I mean broken bones, internal injuries. They were trying to manipulate you with pain and fear but they had no intention of killing you.”
“Well, of course not. I hadn’t told them anything about Grace.”
Donovan shook his head. “They want you both, Shea. You need to realize that. You’re as valuable to them as your sister. How would they even know what the full extent of your abilities are? They haven’t had access to you since you were a child.”
“He’s right,” Nathan interjected. He smoothed his hand over her leg as he spoke.
“What happened?” Ethan asked. “How did you end up with the Petersons? You were raised as their children and they never told you the truth. You have no memory of the laboratory?”
Shea shook her head. “In her journal, Andrea wrote that she and Brandon grew increasingly upset over our treatment. They’d been with us, studied us since our births, and they felt a bond to us. They considered us theirs because no one else acted as our parents. They planned their escape meticulously. For months. And then one night, they took us and ran.”
“Amazing that they were able to keep you hidden from them for all those years,” Donovan murmured.
“We moved a lot.” She turned to Nathan, a frown twisting her lips. “We talked about this before and it makes even less sense to me now. We never had a lot of money. Mom and Dad always scraped by doing jobs where they could be paid cash. But then we moved to that house in Oregon. You saw it. It’s huge. It’s on the ocean. It has state-of
-the-art security and surveillance. We never seemed to worry about money after we moved there. So what happened? Why did we suddenly stop running? Where was the money coming from? They didn’t work. They spent their time homeschooling us, making sure we never went out in public. We didn’t have friends. I’m sure the townspeople thought we were crazy recluses.”
The men traded frowns. Swanny sat forward, his fingers forming a point. He glanced at Nathan and then at Ethan and Donovan. “That’s a damn good question. It certainly would appear that the Petersons got help from someone. Was there anything in the journal to explain it, Shea?”
“No. That’s what’s frustrating. She chronicled the events of our early years and she did so after the fact. It was like a written account almost as if she wanted us to know the truth one day. But her entries stopped when we moved to Oregon. Her last entry only says, ‘God willing, we won’t have to run any longer.’ ”
“Pretty damn cryptic,” Nathan muttered.
“It certainly adds another dimension to this whole mess,” Donovan said in a grim voice. “The Petersons got help from someone, but who? And what was their motive?”
Shea rubbed her forehead in an attempt to ease the strain and the thudding ache that pounded at her temples. Nathan pulled her to him and kissed her brow and then replaced her hand with his own, gently kneading.
“I don’t know. I swear I don’t know. I feel so stupid. I knew my life wasn’t normal. I didn’t always know that, but when I got older, I knew it was downright strange. Still, I never imagined this. How could I have? I thought my parents were just protective of Grace and me. They feared our abilities being discovered and what our lives would be like if that happened. I misunderstood their fear obviously, but I chalked up all of their eccentricities to concern for their daughters.”
“Shea, look at me,” Donovan said.
She lifted her gaze to see Donovan and Ethan both looking at her and Nathan with determination in their eyes. Gone was the skepticism, the doubt. All that remained was burning sincerity.
