She had to get off this island. She would come back for her patients, but if she didn’t leave they might all be stuck here. Despite her fears, her voice was low but firm. “I’ve overstayed my welcome here. I want to go home.” He took a step toward her. Instinctively, she backed up. Already close to the window, her heels hit the baseboard. Her hands went to her sides, pressing against the ceiling-to-floor glass panels behind her.
“You have a job to do, and I suggest you accept that,” he said. He stood so close to her that the toes of his shoes were almost touching her sandals. “You will welcome your new research team with open arms, and you will eagerly aid their efforts.” He paused, his eyes lowering to her lips, lingering there before lifting. “And you will do so because it’s in the best interests of both you and your patients.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, fear fluttering in her stomach. It was fear for her patients, and fear because there was more going on here than she understood and she wished she knew what.
“It means that you are being monitored, Laura. You always have been. Anything you do that might interfere with our goals will be penalized. If you value the safety of your patients, then I’d stay on task.” He leaned in, his body far too near, his mouth brushing her earlobe. “And remember…I’ll be close.” He eased back and looked into her eyes. “And I’ll be watching.”
For the first time since she was a teen, Laura fought the rise of her powers, fought the desire to use them against this man. No…Beast. The word came to her clearly. He was a power-hungry Beast. Her adrenaline raged, her nerve endings stood on end. With effort she reined in the rush of energy, drew in a discreet, calming breath.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it. I’ll help clone the marker.”
He smiled, evil. “That’s my girl.” His finger ran down her cheek, and she shivered with repulsion. A second later, he stepped away from her, and Laura felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Your new research team will be here Friday morning,” he said. “I trust you’ll be ready for them.”
She glared at him, not agreeing, not daring to disagree. She couldn’t say or do anything until she knew what her next step would be. But as he exited the room, giving her one more lust-filled look over his shoulder, she knew one thing for certain. She had no intention of doing what he demanded. Somehow, some way, she was going to get off this island, and she was taking her patients with her. Their own powers were resources they themselves could put to use for escape if it came down to it. But she’d need to stockpile their medication first and plan carefully.
Then, they were out of here. One way or another, they were getting off this island.
Chapter 2
Rinehart stepped onto the sandy beach of his island destination, after a long night on a boat spent, in part, blindfolded. Behind him several military police officers followed, one of them informing him their ride would be there shortly.
Only these soldiers weren’t men. Not anymore. They were Beasts in human disguises. Beasts that reeked of evil. The hardest part of the trip had been not killing them. No. That wasn’t true. The hardest part was thinking about his past, about the time he’d spent in the military and then the FBI. About the night he’d led his men on a mission deep into Mexico, his mind distracted by personal matters, by a woman, to be exact—a matter that should have been left at home. His team had fallen that night, ambushed by Beasts. He’d failed his men and his country. Why Salvador had saved him, converted him to a Knight of White, he didn’t know. Still didn’t. But when he’d finally pulled himself out of the self-hatred that day had created, he’d vowed to both himself and Salvador he would never fail the Knights.
Max, Rock, Des and their newest Knight, Lucan, joined him on the beachfront, reminding him of that vow. He had a damn good team who had worked miracles to get them here today. “My skin is crawling from being so near those bastards,” Des murmured under his breath, touching the arrowhead necklace he wore around his neck as a reminder of his Native American mother. Something he did often in troubled times.
“I hear ya, man,” Rinehart said. “We can’t get this job done fast enough to suit me.”
Rock came up on the other side of Rinehart. Like the rest of them, he wore khakis and a collar shirt. Gone was his standard attire of jeans, T-shirt and cowboy hat. But the more conservative clothing did nothing to contain his impetuous youth. “Remind me why I can’t take their heads right now,” he said.
Rinehart shook his head; that statement spoke worlds about why Rinehart kept Rock attached to his hip. If anyone were going to beat Rock’s ass, it would be him. “You gotta learn some patience, kid,” Max said, joining them, egging on Rock with the kid reference. They all knew he hated it.
Max had learned that lesson and plenty more in his time, Rinehart thought. It had been Max who had designed their background stories for this mission, complete with any document known to man supporting their identities—and he’d done it with the ease of a pro.
And who would have believed that Lucan, an old friend of Max’s, with his propensity for leather and hot women, could pull that long blond hair back, put on a pair of glasses, and transform into a lab-coated scientific geek?
Once they’d thrown out the bait, spreading the word in high-profile circles that they were looking for financial backing, Walch had started circling like the vulture he was. Lucan had reeled him in. Of course, their offer to be the guinea pigs for the cloning project gave Walch the extra incentive. It also ensured that Walch didn’t try to convert them to Beasts and discover they weren’t human.
“Here comes your ride,” one of the soldiers said, nodding toward an approaching Jeep.
Rinehart’s gaze lifted and locked on the incoming vehicle, his attention riveted to the petite woman on the passenger’s side. Her long auburn hair blowing around her pale, bare shoulders drew his gaze. He knew Laura Johnson from her picture and had studied her life, her work and her habits prior to her time on the island—just as he had studied every one of his extraction targets. But the single photo in that file of her in a lab coat, hair pulled back in a prim little knot, had done her no justice. Laura Johnson was a looker with a capital L. And she was a smart one, too. And not just because of her degrees, or the work she did, but because, evidently, she despised Walch, the man sitting in the Jeep with her; he could see that from her expression, her tense posture.
The Jeep pulled to a stop and Walch exited the vehicle, making a quick path to meet Rinehart, hand extended. “Welcome, Mr. Rinehart.” He glanced at the other Knights and nodded. “Welcome to you all. I trust your trip was satisfactory?”
Rinehart ground his teeth and glanced at Walch’s hand; he had no interest in touching him. His hands went to his hips; his weight shifted onto his back foot. “If being blindfolded is a luxury, then it was a bucket of joy.”
Walch’s lips thinned; a frown formed between his thin brows as he withdrew his hand. “There are necessary evils to security, Mr. Rinehart. I’m sure a man of your background and stature can understand such a thing.”
Rinehart understood all right. He understood he wanted this over and done with. “My men are tired and hungry and won’t all fit into that Jeep you have there.”
“Transportation will arrive for your group momentarily. I thought you and I could have a private chat on the way to your quarters.” He glanced at the Jeep. “I interrupted our lead researcher’s morning run so you could meet her.” He motioned Rinehart forward. “Shall we?”
In the distance, Rinehart noted a convoy of approaching vehicles and eyed Des in an effort to gauge his thoughts on the situation. And not because Des was the unofficial second-in-command of the Knights. On this mission Rinehart was number one, and Des would respect that. But since his recent mating, Des had acquired a special talent that seemed to be growing with each passing day. He often had visions of the future, flashes that warned of trouble. A damn nifty little trick when they were hunting Demons.
Des inclined his head a
t Rinehart. “We’re good, man.”
Rinehart glanced at Walch, and they turned to depart.
The minute Rinehart’s eyes gravitated to the Jeep, they connected with Laura’s; the jolt that followed packed the heat of a fireball. He’d caught her staring at him and, with the discovery, found the definite presence of instant, shared attraction.
He sauntered toward her. A smile touched his lips as he noted the sweetness in her reaction and the guilt that flashed across her lovely, heart-shaped face. Much to his surprise, despite the light tinge of red flooding her cheeks, she didn’t cower under his returned attention. She held his gaze, studying him with interest, as if sizing him up.
When he arrived beside the vehicle, he reached over the passenger’s-side door and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Johnson. I’m William Rinehart, but you can call me Rinehart.” He lowered his voice slightly. “All my friends do.”
Surprise flashed in her eyes as she tentatively extended her hand to him. “I prefer Laura.” The instant their hands touched, her lashes fluttered, hiding her reaction to the connection.
Rinehart didn’t know what she felt in that moment, and hell, he wasn’t sure he knew what he felt except…hot. Burning up, in fact. Ironically her palm was cool and soft against his, a direct contrast to the scorching sensation flooding his body. His groin tightened, his heart raced. His blood coursed with molten heat. This was not a normal reaction to a woman. Not by a long shot. He tightened his fingers around hers, somehow afraid if he didn’t, she might escape as he struggled to identify what was happening to him. If only she would look at him, so he could see into her eyes.
The sound of Walch opening his door drew Rinehart back to the present, and he forced himself to release Laura’s hand. Walch settled behind the steering wheel and patted the spot next to him. “Make room for Mr. Rinehart.”
One look at Laura’s expression and Rinehart knew she didn’t want to sit next to Walch. “Maybe I should wait for the next car,” he suggested, wanting to save her the discomfort, even as he hated missing the opportunity to be near her, to figure out his reaction to her.
“Nonsense,” Walch said. “You two need to get busy on this project. Laura doesn’t mind being a little cramped.” He glanced at Laura, who stared straight ahead. “Do you, Laura?”
Laura eased across the seat toward Walch, casting Rinehart a silent thank-you for his efforts. Walch’s gaze dropped, devoured Laura’s bare legs, which she left on Rinehart’s side of the gearshift, thank God. Unfamiliar possessiveness rushed over Rinehart, urging him to protect Laura. He barely contained a desire to yank Walch out of the Jeep and pound him.
He jerked open the passenger’s-side door and slid in beside Laura. One thing for sure—Laura wasn’t going anywhere alone with that man. Ever. Not now that he was around.
Possessiveness roared through his body. Saving Laura had suddenly become personal, and this mission just a little more complicated. He didn’t know what this woman was doing to him, but she was doing it in a big way. Laura Johnson and her patients were leaving this place with him, and he didn’t care who had to roll over to make it happen. And if Walch knew what was good for him, he’d better keep his beady little eyes to himself.
Rinehart was going to enjoy taking that bastard’s head.
By the time the Jeep pulled up to the main research facility—a half-circle-shaped, black-glass building—Laura knew she was in trouble. The drive back to the main research facility, which also housed Laura’s apartment, had been filled with chatter about each of Laura’s patients. On the surface the conversation seemed typical enough, considering the circumstances. But nothing was typical about Laura’s reaction to Rinehart.
She was on fire, hot all over, aware of him as a man in an unnatural way. Aware of herself as a woman in a way that was downright frightening. Perhaps because she’d managed so effectively to push that part of herself into a place of dormancy—until now. Until this man drew the fire beneath the surface to a reality without even trying. She wanted to hate Rinehart, a man who was here to force her research to proceed in a direction she didn’t want to go. Yet…she found herself drawn to him.
Rinehart slid out of the Jeep and held the door open for her. At the same moment, Walch excused himself to take a cell phone call a few steps out of hearing range. Laura scooted out of the vehicle and found herself staring up at Rinehart, when she’d promised herself she wouldn’t make eye contact.
He was tall, standing a good foot above her five-four height, his body honed, a fighting machine. Military, present or past—she didn’t know which, but he was definitely military. Confirming her theory, she observed that his light brown hair was trimmed neatly, his square jaw clean-shaven. But the dead giveaway was the lethal quality that clung to him, much as it had to her father and his Special Forces buddies. That “ready to go to battle” air they wore like a second skin. Which meant he’d push his agenda as dogmatically as her father always had—he wouldn’t stop until he gotten what he’d come for. Damn this attraction she felt toward him. It was being wasted on a man to whom she was going to give a proverbial butt kicking.
He pushed the door shut, but didn’t step away from Laura, didn’t give her any space. He stood within whispering range, the wind drawing on his spicy male scent and insinuating it into her nostrils. Tempting her, teasing her, reminding her that this man had some control over her, control that she didn’t want to allow.
“You don’t like Walch much, do you?” he asked softly.
“Not one bit,” she replied, unafraid of the truth, but not willing to announce it on a loudspeaker, either. Walch knew how she felt about him, but he had an ego that if wounded publicly would put him on the attack.
Rinehart studied her a moment, and then laughed, a soft timbre that danced along her nerve endings and made her ache in intimate places. Appalled, embarrassed, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. What was wrong with her?
“I like honesty,” Rinehart said. “We should get along well.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” she warned, not wanting to get along with this man, not wanting to be this attracted to him. Besides, his reason for being on this island made him her enemy.
He narrowed his blue eyes on her. Deep blue with little speckles of green. “Not sure about me liking your honesty?” he asked. “Or not sure if we’ll get along?”
“Either,” she said. “We don’t share the same agenda, which means we don’t share the same values. Frankly, we’re destined to clash.”
“I don’t know about agendas, though I’d love to compare notes. But I have to say,” he added, “clashing isn’t the word I’d choose to describe our interaction so far.” His voice softened; his eyes darkened. “More like—”
“I’m ready,” Walch said, drawing their attention before Rinehart could finish his sentence.
Laura took a step backward, distancing herself from Rinehart, wishing she knew what he’d been about to say, while realizing it shouldn’t matter. “I need to take a shower before I do anything, and I have patients scheduled to meet me in the lab in an hour.”
“Perfect,” Walch said. “I want Rinehart and his team working with you every step of the way. That starts here and now. Today.”
Laura ground her teeth. “I’m not sure that’s the best way to make this work. My patients—”
“It’ll work,” Walch said. “Make it work.”
She clamped down on her rising temper, feeling Rinehart’s eyes on her face, feeling him watching her. Her gaze went to his, avoiding Walch’s. “I’ll see you in an hour,” she said, her voice low and curt.
Without waiting for a reply, she departed, walking toward the residential housing entrance at the side of the building. She heard Rinehart call her name and ignored him, heard Walch make some nasty comment, and ignored that, too. Getting all worked up wasn’t going to help her or her patients. The clock was ticking, and she had to get off this island. Rinehart was a complication that she could do without, but she wo
uld handle him, just as she would Walch.
Rinehart watched as Laura departed and Walch stepped to his side. “Take a long, hard look, Mr. Rinehart. Because she’s your new pet project. She has secrets and I want them exposed. And after watching you two together, I believe you’re the man to get them for me.”
Slowly, Rinehart turned his head toward Walch, irritated despite the fact that this turn of events worked in his favor. He needed to get close to Laura, and it seemed Walch was going to give him a free ticket to get there. “What kind of secrets?”
“I think she has abilities just as her patients do. In fact, I think she is more powerful than all the rest of them together.”
Walch had Rinehart’s attention now, but he carefully schooled his features to barely contained boredom. “What are you basing this assessment on?” he asked.
Walch leaned against the Jeep, crossing his arms in front of his body, his expression gloating. As if he had done something no one else could. “Laura apparently doesn’t give me enough credit for my analytical skills. I didn’t take her reports at face value. I checked them out. To create a retrovirus that corrected the defective marker in patients who can’t control their abilities, she would have required a perfect specimen without the same flaws.”
“And her reports didn’t indicate such a requirement?”
“Not even a slight indication,” Walch said. “But the facts are the facts. She had to have a perfect specimen to make that virus, and I believe that specimen came from Laura herself.”
Rinehart believed Walch was right, which was all the more reason to act otherwise. “Why hide something like this when she is already involved with this type of research?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Maybe the specimen is from a patient.”
“It’s not,” Walch said. “She inherited these patients from us. All except for the firestarter, who clearly had no control until she began injections of the retrovirus. As to why she’s hiding her abilities, I don’t know and, frankly, I don’t care. I just want her secret exposed.”
Captive of the Beast Page 2
