Sweet Charity
N.J. Walters
Third in the Project Alpha series
Earth, 2133
Adrian is an Alpha—a genetically enhanced assassin—thought dead by the people who created him. Living outside the Gate, a high tech shield that protects the enclosed city from the contaminated and lawless land outside, he is the leader of the Resistance, living only to bring down the Gate and the people who sought to kill him.
Charity Caruthers is the daughter of one of the most powerful and brutal men in the inner city—the General. She risks everything sneaking outside the Gate to get a message to Adrian.
Passion explodes, ripping apart the foundations of both their lives. Charity begins to understand true sexual desire as Adrian teaches her the passion to be found in dark fantasies. Loyalties are tested and trust pushed to the limits as the final confrontation is at hand. Some will die. Some will live. And Adrian and Charity’s fragile relationship could be the final casualty in this war of retribution and freedom.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Sweet Charity
ISBN 9781419924002
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Sweet Charity Copyright © 2009 N.J. Walters
Edited by Shannon Combs
Cover art by Willo
Electronic book publication December 2009
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Sweet Charity
N.J. Walters
Dedication
This one is for all my readers who support me and allow me to do what I love for a living. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Chapter One
Earth 2133
Her father was a monster. Charity Caruthers had always known he was evil, but even she hadn’t realized the true depths of his depravity until this moment.
The man hanging in chains from the interrogation wall in looked as though his skin had been peeled from his body, one small piece at a time. His hair was matted with blood and sweat. It was impossible to tell what its original color was. Blood and urine pooled around his manacled ankles. The horrible smell coated her nostrils and throat. Charity swallowed hard, trying desperately to keep from vomiting. Sweat clung to her skin and she shivered with dread.
She would have thought him dead if it weren’t for the occasional gasp as he tried to pull air into his starving lungs. He wouldn’t survive the night.
Charity pitied him even as she acknowledged there was nothing she could do to help him. He was too far gone and would be dead in a few hours, maybe less. She nervously glanced over her shoulder. There were no guards about. After all, this was a secure federal building and the prisoner was in no shape to mount an escape. But that didn’t mean one of the guards wouldn’t be back soon.
She crept closer, taking care not to step in the puddle of his blood, which was growing larger with each passing second. “Sir,” she whispered. His head rolled to one side and he emitted a long, low moan. She bit her bottom lip and shot a look at the door. It was still clear.
Swallowing hard, she reached out her hand to touch his face but drew back. There was nowhere to touch him that wouldn’t hurt and she didn’t want to add to his misery and suffering. “Sir, is there anyone I can get word to? Family? Friends?” It was the least she could do for him.
His eyelids fluttered and his cracked lips moved slightly. Charity leaned in closer. “Dreeann.” The words were hardly more than a puff of air.
She frowned. “Who is Dreeann? Where can I find her?” Or was it a him?
The dying man licked his lips but didn’t speak. He was quiet for so long, she was afraid he’d died in between one tortured breath and the next. She started to leave but the man moved. Amazingly, he raised his head and opened his eyes. He seemed lucid in spite of the excruciating pain he must be feeling.
“Adrian. Not safe. General. Attack. Three days.” The effort it took to get those words out seemed to exhaust him. His head rolled to one side.
Charity’s heart stopped and then resumed beating at an alarming rate. “The General is going to attack in three days. And I need to tell someone named Adrian.”
The corners of the man’s lips turned up in a gruesome smile. “Wish I could be there to fight.”
She reached out and briefly touched the side of his face, or what was left of it. “What’s your name?”
“Manuel.”
His breathing was laboring now and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. “I’ll tell him. I promise.”
He stared at her with startling clear, green eyes. She thought he must have been a handsome man before her father and his goons got hold of him. He nodded once. His eyes closed and he released a huge sigh. The chains around his wrists and ankles tightened as his body slumped forward. Manuel was dead.
Taking a deep breath, Charity backed away from the ghastly scene and hurried to the door. She’d been summoned to the government building by her father, only to be told by his assistant that he was busy and had no time for her today. As she was leaving, she’d overheard a conversation between two security police, talking about the prisoner her father was interrogating.
She knew every inch of this building, had played here as a child, and knew exactly where to find the interrogation rooms in the bowels of the building. Something had pulled at her, urging her to find out for herself exactly what was going on. Maybe it had started out as simply wanting to know what had kept her father from meeting her. When he summoned her, which thankfully was rare, it usually meant he wanted something from her. And whatever he wanted, it was never anything good…for her.
Bringing her attention back to the present, she focused on her escape. There was nothing more she could do for Manuel. She glanced up and down the hallway, closing the door gently behind her before skittering toward the stairs. Sweat made her clothing stick to her body. She could barely hear above the pounding of her heart. The stairs seemed to go on forever but she kept going, putting one foot in front of the other.
If someone caught her in this prohibited part of the building, she wasn’t certain she had enough wits about her to talk herself out of trouble. She straightened her spine and hurried her pace. The only option was to not get caught.
She calmed a bit when she reached the main level of the sterile government building, not really seeing its gray walls and tiled floors. The image of the poor man who’d just bled to death before her very eyes was burned into her brain. It was a sight she’d never forget.
She nodded and smiled at several people who knew her and kept walking. The front door of the building seemed to be miles away. Charity kept walking, hoping no one w
ould notice anything unusual about her. She felt changed somehow and thought that must show in her appearance. But no one seemed to perceive anything amiss. Not the people she passed nor the guards who waved her through the security checkpoint. Thankfully no one stopped to chat. She certainly didn’t think she could manage to stop and talk, not if she actually wanted to have a coherent conversation.
The walk home was a nightmare. Sweat seeped from every pore of her body and she ground her jaws together to keep from screaming. Every second that ticked by she expected a security patrol to stop her and drag her to her father—General Benson Caruthers, aka the General.
Just because she was his daughter didn’t mean she was immune to his cruelty. Her hand went to the left side of her face, her fingers tracing the jagged scar that ran from the outside corner of her eye all the way to her mouth. Her father hadn’t given her this particular scar, but he’d been just as responsible. After all, he was the one who had forced her into marriage with a man twice her age in order to gain political support and favors.
She hadn’t had a choice. Like the man chained to the wall in the interrogation room, she’d been trapped. Her father had beaten her, drugged her and dragged her to the mockery of a wedding ceremony, which had been over and done before she’d even realized what was happening to her.
She dropped her hand back to her side, stuffing it into her pocket as she hurried up the walkway toward her small apartment. She’d moved here after she was widowed. The government had seized her husband’s wealth after his suspicious death, leaving her once again at her father’s mercy. No one would hire her because they feared her father’s wrath. She lived on a small stipend provided by the General.
Her fingers shook as she put the key in the lock and let herself inside. She didn’t stop but went straight to the bathroom where she promptly threw up her breakfast.
Dropping to the floor in front of the commode, she clasped the white porcelain in her hands as she cried and heaved. When the worst of the storm passed, she grabbed the side of the vanity and stood on shaky legs. Turning on the faucet, she rinsed her face with cool water before grabbing her toothbrush.
A few minutes later, she felt better, if not quite stable. She raised her head and studied the pale face staring back at her. Her skin was so white her freckles stood out on her nose and cheekbones. Her curly brown hair was in disarray. But it was the resolve in her eyes that steadied her.
She had to get out of this place. She’d been widowed for a year now. There was nothing she could prove, but Charity was sure her father had played a role in the death of her husband. Not that she missed Martin. The mere thought of his name made her nauseous. He’d been a sadistic son of a bitch who enjoyed the pain of others, but especially hers. Lately her father had been hinting that it was time for her to remarry.
She’d rather be dead.
Charity made her decision. She was leaving the inner city and venturing into the world outside the Gate—a high-tech, impenetrable shield that protected the enclosed city from contamination from the outside. A hundred years ago, wars, natural disasters and disease had transformed the planet. The population had been decimated and the survival of the human race was in jeopardy. When the dust finally settled, the world was divided into two sections. The rich and privileged lived inside the climate-controlled, protective confines of the Gate. Outside the barrier, everyone else resided in poverty, filth, disease and lawlessness.
But living inside the city came with a price—freedom. The Ruling Council had it. Everyone else followed the rules or soon found themselves dead, imprisoned or outside the Gate.
She’d rather take her chances out there than remain here any longer. She was twenty-five years old. It was time to take charge of her destiny. She also had a goal. A man had died at her father’s hand today and she owed it to him to grant his dying wish.
Galvanized into action, she began a mental list of what she’d need—a knapsack to carry food and clothing, a container for water and a blanket or two. A knife. And probably a gun. She had one. It had belonged to her late husband. She’d never fired a gun in her life, but she could point and shoot. It was better than nothing.
She faltered briefly. Sheer terror swamped her at the thought of facing the unknown beyond the Gate. Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath, pushed away from the vanity and strode to her bedroom. There were hours before the sun went down and she could make her way to one of the exits to the outside world. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to manage to get past the security guards who manned the Gate, but she’d figure it out when the time came.
Right now, it was enough that she had a goal. She needed to find a man named Adrian and let him know about her father’s plans. Whoever he was, he was in danger. She shuddered at the thought of this unknown man falling into her father’s grasp.
In the fourteen long months she’d been married, she’d eavesdropped many times on private conversations between her husband and father. In the past year, she’d learned even more about the General. He wouldn’t rest until all the rebels outside the city were dead.
Adrian. She knew that name. Charity sat on the side of the bed and tried to pull it from her memory. Something she’d overheard. Obviously, he was someone important if her father wanted him so badly.
She shrugged. It didn’t matter. Whoever he was, she’d find him.
Adrian stared out into the night. It was dark, but with his enhanced vision, he could see as well as if it were midday. The back of his neck tingled. A warning. An omen. Something was in the air. Trouble was on the wind.
Sighing, he rubbed his nape, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of impending disaster. He was tired. Not an unusual state for him. Being the leader of the Resistance was time-consuming. There were never enough hours in the day to do everything that needed to be done to keep an operation this size running.
There were people to feed and clothe. They all needed shelter, medical supplies and weapons. Then there were the constant patrols against the security police to plan and implement. For what felt like the millionth time, Adrian wondered how the hell he’d ended up in this position.
He was an Alpha. A loner. Created by the Piedmont Corporation as a weapon to be used by General Caruthers and The Ruling Council. Thanks to genetic enhancements, his senses were more acute than a regular person’s, his reflexes faster, his body stronger. The microcomputer that was part of his brain allowed him to learn at an incredible speed, to calculate the odds and make split-second decisions in any situation. In short, he was the perfect killer—intelligent, adaptable, ruthless and strong.
But there had been problems with the program and the scientists had decided that half the Alphas needed to be destroyed. They weren’t developing fast enough and then there were budget cuts to contend with. He’d been one of the Alphas slated for termination over twelve years ago. Out of the group that had been taken outside the Gate and shot, he was the only one who’d managed to survive.
It was then and there, as a bitter eighteen-year-old that he’d vowed to destroy The Piedmont Corporation, the General and bring down the Gate. As an Alpha, there was no backing down from a goal once it was set. It wasn’t in an Alpha to give up. They’d keep going until they literally dropped. They didn’t know any other way. He didn’t know any other way. Adrian had made it his life’s mission to be a thorn in the General’s side ever since.
A shadow in the distance caught his eye and his head jerked up. As he watched, a ragged child raced from the dubious cover of one building to another, probably searching for food or shelter. It was the children who really got to him. They deserved better than to have to scrabble in the dirt for survival.
He knew what it was like to feel hunger gnawing at his backbone, to be so thirsty his lips cracked, to be cold all the way to his soul. He turned away from the window knowing he couldn’t save all the children. Not yet.
If only he could bring down the Gate, then everyone would have the same access to food, water, medical s
upplies and so much more. He would make it happen. And soon. It had been quiet for several weeks now. That was never a good thing where the General was concerned.
One of their trackers was missing. Manuel had gone out almost a week ago and hadn’t returned. He was probably captured and dead. Adrian’s jaw tightened as he turned away from the window. There was nothing he or anyone else could do about it. They all knew the score, all lived with the possibility that they could die on any given day. They were at war, but that didn’t make the loss any easier.
One of the drawbacks of being an Alpha was having perfect recall. Adrian could picture the faces and name of everyone he’d lost over the past twelve years. The list was a long one.
He scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him tonight. Maybe it was the fact that his fellow Alphas, Tienan and Logan, would be here tomorrow for a quick briefing and they’d both be accompanied by their women. Silence and Mercy were two incredible ladies, both of them able to get past the fact that their men were genetically altered killers and love them anyway.
A twinge of an unfamiliar emotion hit him square in the chest. He rubbed the area over his heart as he pondered it. Envy. He’d never felt anything like it before. He’d spent so many years simply doing what needed to be done in order to survive, he’d never had time to worry about what he didn’t have.
But he wanted what those men had found with their women. He wanted to know what it was like to trust someone that much, to want to be with them, to make love with them each night. The sheer intimacy of it was beyond his understanding.
Adrian had sex when he needed the physical release, but he’d never had a relationship that went beyond a few nights of fucking, of burning off sexual energy and tension. Maybe that’s what he needed. A night with a woman spread beneath him, her soft body cradling his as he drove his cock into her welcoming heat. Maybe then he’d rid himself of the strange mood that held him in its grasp.
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