The Blue Link

by Carol Caiton

  A score of one through twenty in the blue range qualified as a status-1. Twenty-one through forty sent it into the status-2 range. It was possible Simon had only topped Ethan's score by a single point. But he'd lost whatever advantage he'd had the day Nina moved into Ethan's house. Close proximity would have tipped the scales against him and his own disastrous encounter with Kaylene Woodrow had done the rest. For that he had no one but himself to blame.

  I can't forget. I'm sorry . . . I just can't forget.

  He didn't blame Nina for that. He even understood it. Had he chanced upon her in a similar situation with another man, he wouldn't have been able to put it out of his mind either.

  He had liked Kaylene. She was probably the most straight-forward, direct-thinking woman he knew. But he'd had Michael go into the system and remove him from her list of eligible links. He'd rather leave RUSH altogether than find himself paired with her again.

  It occurred to him that one decision, one error in judgment, could forever alter the course of life. The sad irony, however, was that he'd learned from his mistake. By God, had he learned.

  So now their number was reduced to six. Ethan's shares in the corporation would come up for sale and the remaining partners would probably purchase them in an even distribution. But Mason's shares would also be coming up for sale. It wouldn't be long now before he, too, left RUSH.

  He looked at Nina's innocent eyes one last time. The board would spread word of a blue link triangle to reestablish confidence in the system and his own failure to secure the future he should have had would be publicized to preserve the integrity of the program. There was no other option—none, at least, that would be as effective. He'd better brace for the fallout. It was bound to be brutal. He could only be grateful he hadn't spent enough time with Nina to have fallen in love . . . whatever the hell that was.

  With a click of the mouse her image blinked away. He powered down the computer, pushed away from Ethan's desk, and stood up. He didn't want to spend another minute in this office.

  He walked over to the door, switched off the lights, and stepped out into the corridor only to have someone stumble right into him. Hannah Breckenridge.

  The file folder she carried flew toward the opposite wall and papers scattered, floating to the floor. The dozen or so bangle bracelets she always wore jingled and jangled as she fluttered about in a futile attempt to catch whatever she could.

  "Simon! Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't see you."

  He narrowed his eyes. A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Then pay attention next time."

  Brushing past, he left her staring, wide-eyed, amid the profusion of paper littering the hall. Without giving her another thought he headed for the lobby then out into the sunshine. He needed some fresh air.

  EPILOGUE 1

  Phillip Davidson turned off the late-night news when it shifted to sports. He placed the remote control on the bedside table, turned, and paused to look at his sleeping wife. Some might call it women's intuition, a sixth sense, or just plain common sense, but Janette's observations and suggestions had always steered him in the right direction. And that fact had just been brought home once more.

  He was familiar with PIC. It was often in the spotlight when matters of a moral nature had been raised. He'd considered the organization a sort of public conscience without the backing of a religious foundation. With Bill Durrand's self-proclaimed membership, however, the firm had been prompted to take a closer look. Davidson, Davidson & Bligh's principle client had definite opinions with regard to social and political alignments. So the firm had begun reviewing the various issues PIC had supported in the past.

  There had been a few minor incidents of disorderly conduct, but nothing he hadn't expected to see. Strong opposing viewpoints often flared into heated disputes. But the riotous violence he'd viewed just a few minutes before didn't reflect favorably on PIC. So the firm would put an investigator on it. Still, the position RUSH had taken on past occasions was that of defending its right to exist, not provoking the opposition.

  He considered the woman who crawled out of the car. The camera hadn't zoomed in for a close-up, but she could have been Nina Millering. If she was, it raised other questions to which he wanted answers. As well, he wondered where Bill Durrand had been throughout the day since he hadn't been at the office. As a member of PIC would he have been called on to participate in the day's event? RUSH's security video would show a detailed account. Despite their differences, he was fairly certain he and Ethan Vale could reach an agreement that allowed the firm's investigator to review it.

  One way or the other, when the report came in he'd have the answers he sought.

  EPILOGUE 2

  Dear Ali,

  I like yor name becauz I can spell it real good. I still got yor punkin on my refrijadader. I like airplans to. Can yu send me som ov thos?

  From

  Joshua Ingersol

  EPILOGUE 3

  Mason watched Jill's twin sister smooth the underside of her denim skirt before sitting down on the chair opposite his desk. Her long curls drifted forward in a waterfall of blonde spirals before she raised slender fingers to brush it aside.

  Insofar as he was able to tell, only a subtle difference distinguished one twin from the other. He had to search for it and wait to spot it, but the easy-going sparkle in Jill's eyes was noticeably softer in Rachel's eyes. And Rachel's showed a quiet maturity that Jill, perhaps, hadn't yet acquired. It was the quiet maturity he faced across his desk today.

  "I won't keep you in suspense," he told her, taking his seat again. "One of the instructors you spoke with has agreed to work with you so you've been approved for an extended guest status—a sort of quasi membership with conditions and a lot of restrictions.

  The fingers that swept her hair back this time trembled with emotion. He could only guess at what she was feeling. Relief? Possibly. But Rachel planned to confront the events of a past so violent to a young girl's mind, they still controlled the young woman she'd become. It was beyond him to fully comprehend the sort of fear or revulsion that ran deep enough to disfigure the soul. Still, even if she never made it past her first session at RUSH, he admired her courage to face her demons and fight. On the outside she was a beautiful, delicate flower. On the inside, however, she'd probably had to develop a tensile strength to make it through from day to day.

  "Dan Zeman tells me you've met with him several times during the past month," he said.

  "Yes." She gave him a crooked little smile. "It seems I'm back in therapy again."

  "That was part of the agreement, wasn't it?"

  "Yes. I'm not complaining. It just wasn't expected. Did he also tell you he doesn't approve of what I want to do?"

  "Yes. But he also believes RUSH is the safest environment for you to explore this."

  "I've tried everything else."

  "I know you have. So does he. You signed a release allowing him full access to your medical background."

  "There was a lot. Years of it."

  "And you're comfortable with the number of people who've had access to that information? The instructors, Security Central, the board of directors?"

  "Yes. I know my privacy is nonexistent here. Each time my file is accessed, RUSH sends an e-mail, notifying me of the search, the party doing the search, and the reason given for it. Sometimes I feel as though I'm the focus of a group science project." She smiled. "It's a peculiar feeling."

  "I imagine it is." He pushed away from his desk. "Let's take a walk over to the training center. I'll give you a mini tour while we go over the various restrictions."

  * * *

  Rachel nodded and rose from her chair. She didn't want Mason to know what her smile had cost or how exposed she felt giving so many people permission to probe into her personal life. She was here to meet with him, find out if her request had been approved and, if so, which of the three instructors who had interviewed her had agreed to work with her.

  RUSH had several instructors and they'd all had acce
ss to her medical records. But only three had been willing to talk with her, and Mason had just told her only one of those three was willing to help. She couldn't blame the other two. They worked at RUSH for the opportunity to have sex, not to provide therapy to a someone who might scream like a lunatic if they touched her for more than ten seconds.

  "As a guest, birth control shots won't be required," Mason said. "But if you take this as far as you're hoping to, they'll be mandatory."

  "I know," she said. They walked through Reception toward the main exit.

  "You'll also have to get with Medical Services for a microchip implant. Security will program it to your file specs and from that time on you won't require an escort. Will that be a problem for you? The procedure?"

  "I'll have to be put under, but it shouldn't be a problem if Dr. Zeman signs off on it."

  "Is that how you handle other medical issues?"

  "Sometimes," she admitted. Then she smiled. "Unless I can wriggle out of them."

  They passed Checkpoint 2 where she'd parked, then he pointed out a path leading to the food court, and another that led to a shopping mall. The R-link complex—what she glimpsed of it through the wrought-iron gate—appeared to be a private oasis.

  The main promenade was circular, cut into a thick tropical jungle with offshooting paths. She saw all manner of palm trees, banana trees, flowering gardenias and plants with leaves so large, she could roll up inside one. And flowers—everywhere she turned she saw flowers. It was as though a tropical island had sprung up in the middle of Orlando.

  "This," he gestured toward the left, "is the turnoff to the training center."

  The building was shrouded in privacy by the jungle so it wasn't until they followed the path to the entrance that she saw a multidimensional structure and, surprisingly, a protruding turret.

  "Had we continued along the main walkway, we would have ventured into the entertainment sector," Mason said, interrupting her thoughts. "Your security clearance won't allow access to those venues but if by chance there's a malfunction, stay away from Threshold, okay?"

  "Yes. But what's Threshold?"

  "It's a combination no-holds-barred nightclub and something the BDSM community calls a dungeon." He gave her a pointed look. "No-holds-barred means no-holds-barred. Anyone venturing into Threshold declares that he—or she—is looking for an experience on the dark side of sex. Do you understand?"

  "Yes. Thanks. I won't forget."

  He waited for her to precede him into the lobby but she hesitated for just a moment. Then she gathered herself and stepped into a large air-conditioned reception area.

  "This is where you'll come from now on," he told her. "Dr. Zeman will be present, our chief of security will monitor your stress levels and adjust your microchip, and Dalton Cooper is the instructor who will be working with you."

  Author's Note

  When I first started writing The Blue Link, Nina was supposed to end up with Simon. I wasn't altogether sure how that was going to come about, but that was the plan. Midway through, however, Denny's blue icon bumped Ethan out of the running and I didn't expect it when he put himself in the spotlight and began to tangle with Nina.

  Suddenly, sparks started flying. I actually fought those sparks, refusing to go in the direction I saw the story heading. I removed them and wrote the next few chapters so it would go where I wanted it to go. Right. It lost momentum and began to fall flat. So I finally decided, okay, I'll go back and let him do what he wants—but only for a chapter or two so I can see how it unfolds.

  Needless to say, Nina did not end up with Simon. After typing nearly three hundred pages, I was unexpectedly back at the beginning, writing an altogether new romance.

  The following pages are a preview of the first chapter of Soul to Soul, the second book in the RUSH series. I hope you find yourself as eager to read the remainder of the story as I was to write it.

  Yours,

  Carol

  Preview of Soul to Soul

  Soul to Soul

  RUSH, Inc.

  Book 2

  By Carol Caiton

  CHAPTER 1

  Michael walked out of Medical Services, wincing when the sun hit his face. Man, it hurt worse now than it had before he'd seen the doctor. He'd have another scar to add to his collection, except this one was high up on his cheek and a little off to the side. He hadn't had one on his face before. But at least his eye wasn't swollen shut anymore. In fact, when he'd looked in the mirror that morning, he looked no worse than if he'd gone a couple of rounds, then walked away. Yeah, it hurt like a sonofabitch, but the sucker wasn't even bruised. No black eye. Go figure that one.

  Rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles, he turned in the direction of the administrative building. He should be grateful for small favors. Or big ones, he guessed. At least he hadn't been stuck inside the car when a mob of yahoos flipped the damned thing over. And hadn't Nina turned out to be a little slugger? When that jackass took a swing at him from behind, she'd packed a good one right to the solar plexus . . . before Ethan dragged her back.

  A smile pulled at his mouth. He turned off the main path, cutting through the jungle toward the koi pond. Fact was, there was nothing like a fistfight to get rid of some aggression. It stirred up the testosterone and gave all that energy an explosive outlet . . . made a guy feel charged and steely. And now he was sounding like a fucking cereal commercial.

  It was interesting though that he didn't feel the need to go looking for those fights anymore. Maybe he'd worked off enough inner rage to finally give himself a little peace. Yeah, right. He'd have to think about that one. Or hell, maybe he was settling down or something. He was twenty-eight years old after all. But that wasn't to say he'd look the other way if he figured the reason was good enough to join in another brawl. Still, it was unfortunate Nina had been caught up in this one.

  Surprisingly he missed her. And that was plain ironic. He'd started out all set to dis her before he'd even met her, but she'd appointed herself his guardian angel. Like he needed a guardian angel.

  Well, maybe he had.

  He paused on that thought. Shrugged. Well yeah, okay, maybe that was true. A couple of times. And she'd come through for him in a big way. But he didn't want to think about Nina. 'Cause then he'd be thinking about Ethan leaving RUSH. And didn't that suck?

  Pushing through the chest-high hedge, he turned at the koi pond . . . and came to a jarring stop.

  Ho-ly fuck.

  Talk about angels.

  He only caught a glimpse of her before she ducked behind a bunch of stubby palms, but whoa, baby. She was small and slender with pale golden curls tumbling all the way down to her ass, and a face that looked as creamy smooth as perfection itself.

  "Too late," he called out. "I already saw you." Then he grinned. "So, unless you're back there pickin' your nose or something, you might as well come out."

  It took a few seconds but she poked her head around the trunk of a palm tree. Then, just as cautiously, she stepped out and faced him, not ten feet away . . . and oh, crap, wasn't she the sweetest looking little bit of female fluff he'd ever laid eyes on. Faded jeans hugged her like they were made for her. She wore a simple white pullover beneath a short tan jacket, a couple of dainty necklaces, and that hair . . . . Oh, honey.

  Never in his life had he applied the word 'enchanted' to himself but damn if he wasn't.

  Until he looked into her eyes.

  Then every fleeting fantasy, every charming word on the tip of his tongue vanished before he even opened his mouth.

  He didn't know how he knew. He just knew. And when he did open his mouth, the words that came out were words he'd never spoken to another living soul.

  "I was eleven years old."

  Then he shut his mouth. Tight.

  For the barest moment her brow furrowed, then her eyes widened with comprehension and she stared back at him for silent seconds. Something—respect maybe, for the mutual survival of an unspeakable atrocity—softened her bl
ue eyes and she gave him a small acknowledging nod.

  But he was shaken. Not sure what had just happened and plenty spooked, he spun around and walked away.

  * * *

  Rachel watched him disappear back into the greenery. What had he seen when he looked at her? How could he have known?

  Reaching up, she closed her hand around her upper arm where a monster had left her with a disfiguring scar. But that scar was hidden beneath her jacket. It was thin now, a little jagged, and had long since healed.

  She brought her hand back down to her side. There was nothing in the way she carried herself that singled her out. She would have known it before now. Whoever he was, he'd seen something else. Something no one else had ever seen. Because what just happened had never happened before.

  A light breeze swept her hair forward. Absently she brushed it back behind her. Whatever he'd seen, he'd recognized it right away. Then he'd maintained a non-threatening distance. But just as startling, he'd revealed his own nightmare. With a single sentence, five words, he told her he knew what had happened to her, that he'd suffered a similar experience and that he carried, as well, all the tortuous memories that went with it. And then he'd left. Which gave her the necessary breathing room to assimilate it, and him, and decide what to do about both.

  Naturally she was curious. She wanted to know who he was and, if nothing else, ask him what he'd seen when he'd looked at her.

  Pushing up the cuff of her jacket, she checked the time. She had forty-five minutes before her first session with Dalton Cooper. It was ridiculous to think she could wander around RUSH looking for one particular person and expect to find him. The grounds were vast. The jungle branched out everywhere and more than a dozen buildings were scattered throughout. He could have disappeared into any one of them just as he'd stepped off the sidewalk and disappeared into the landscaping.