by Rita Herron
“Then she must have been tough to survive. You won’t believe some of the stuff they did to these kids. Besides the sensory deprivation, they used mind games. Drugs. Solitary confinement. Shock treatments. They even used repetitive videos of murders and simulations of being killed themselves to desensitize them. The children were programmed at such a young age, it would be impossible for them to be normal or unscarred.”
“Even if they were reintegrated into the real world? Given therapy?”
“It’s a long shot. Essentially they created sociopathic behavior. Humans without a conscience.”
Luke’s chest constricted as he imagined Stella as a young child enduring torture. She seemed to have found a conscience, though—at least if her tears were any indication.
Then again, what if Quinn were right? A sociopath could act or pretend emotion without really feeling it. Could play a part and seduce a person or adapt another persona in a second.
The sense of trust that he’d begun to feel since he’d discovered Stella in his apartment wavered. What if Stella were incapable of changing? What if she had simply pretended she couldn’t shoot him to seduce him into believing her?
What if she were still communicating with Sutton— feeding him information and keeping Luke occupied in order to disguise ulterior motives?
LUKE HAD WITHDRAWN from her. Stella felt the cold distance yawning wider between them as he drove back to the safe house. She had no idea what had happened to him or what information he’d gleaned on the phone, but he had been silent since.
“Who was that you talked to?” she asked, unable to stand the tension any longer.
“An inside contact,” he replied curtly.
“Did he have information about me? Or about Drake Sutton?”
“He’s confirmed that notes detailed a project years ago involving the type of brainwashing and sensory deprivation experiments that you described in your nightmares.”
Stella shivered. So she hadn’t been dreaming those horrid things. They had really happened.
Which meant the fire years ago was real, too, and that Sutton had left some of the others to die.
Anger and guilt filled her.
Shame followed. Now she understood why Luke was behaving so oddly. He knew the real Stella now. Probably pitied her.
Or maybe his contact had informed him that she was a cold-blooded killer.
He parked, scanned the outside, then climbed out and walked her to the door. When he entered, he motioned for her to remain in the den while he checked the other rooms.
“It’s clear,” he said when he returned.
“You look tired, Luke.” She moved toward him and brushed at the sooty ashes staining his collar. “I was worried when you ran in to save Andrews.”
He looked down into her eyes, but a mask shielded his emotions. “Stay here and rest, Stella. I have things to take care of.”
“What kind of things?”
“Business.” He didn’t elaborate, simply walked to the door. “Lock the door behind me. And don’t let anyone in. I won’t be gone long.”
She met his gaze as he handed her a small handgun. “This is for protection.”
She nodded, wondering if Luke’s offer meant he trusted her, then watched him go in silence, confused. Last night, he had almost made love to her, had told her he wanted her completely. Had he changed his mind after that phone call?
Or had he realized that she could never give all of herself to one man? Sex was one thing. Trust and love another.
Damn Drake Sutton for destroying her ability to do both.
Suddenly furious at all the man had cost her, she picked up the phone and dialed a taxi service. Ten minutes later, the cabdriver pulled up to Sutton’s estate. Nerves tingled in Stella’s stomach. Sutton, Kat and Jaycee had probably meant to kill her at Luke’s cabin. If she went in now, they might finish the job.
But she couldn’t bow to the fear. She had to confront Sutton, force him to admit the truth about her mother and those other children.
She spoke into the security intercom, identifying herself and asking for Sutton. The doors slid open, and the driver sped up the long narrow driveway, then deposited her at the entrance. She paid the driver with some bills Luke had left on the dresser, and climbed out. Sucking in a sharp breath, she started to press the doorbell, but the butler opened the door before she could do so, and ushered her to Drake Sutton’s study.
He was perched behind his desk with a pipe lit in his hand, looking austere and angry.
“You tried to kill me, didn’t you?” she said without preamble.
He chuckled wryly. “Not I, Stella. But there are some who don’t trust you.”
She arched a brow. “And you do?”
“You always return to me in the end.” He gestured for her to sit, but she declined.
“I came for answers.”
He sighed. “I thought we covered the past a few days ago when I bailed you out of jail.”
“Not everything,” Stella said. “I want the truth about my mother. About how I came to live with you.”
“You have had memories?” he asked gruffly.
“Some. I remember crying for her at night. Wondering if she’d come back, if you had her locked in another room.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Why is that ridiculous? I know you brainwashed me, tortured me, gave me shock treatments.”
His gaze cut away from her, toward the fireplace. “You were a hard one to break. My finest piece of work, though.”
“I was not an object,” Stella said, furious. “I was a little girl!”
He turned back to her, his expression lethal. “I gave you a home, a place to live and cared for you when your mother didn’t want you.”
“You’re saying she gave me up? I thought my parents died in an accident.”
He hesitated. “I never wanted you to know the truth.” He rose, circled around the desk and faced her. “You see I’m not the monster you believe me to be. I saved you and protected you.”
“You stole me from my mother, you probably killed her—”
“No, Stella. You want the truth?” His voice rose an octave. “I didn’t steal you, your mother sold you.”
Stella gasped and staggered backward, grasping the chair for support. “No…”
“Yes, Stella. The other children in the dorm were orphans. But your mother wanted money so she offered you up.”
Anguish robbed Stella’s breath. “And you bought me?”
“I stepped in to protect you.”
“And why would you do that?” Stella asked. “Why did you save me from the fire and not the others?”
Sutton reached out to touch her, but Stella stiffened and backed away. “Tell me. Did you think I’d make a better killer?”
He shook his head. “No, Stella, I saved you because you are my daughter.”
Stella collapsed into the chair. No. She couldn’t be this ruthless man’s child.
It meant she’d be tied to him forever.
Chapter Eleven
Luke’s mind boomeranged between trusting Stella and asking another agent with objectivity to replace him.
But he had to see Stella first. Follow his instincts. See if she’d slip up.
Hell, he wanted to see her anyway, just to confirm that she was safe.
But he had to remain objective.
His cell phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID screen. His superior, Spencer. He grunted a curse, and answered. “Devlin.”
“You haven’t checked in, Devlin. What’s going on?”
Luke relayed his conversation with Hall, Quinn Salt, and his findings about the project.
“So you think Stella Segall was one of these children? How convenient.”
“She has memories of being sensory deprived, of undergoing shock therapy. She appears to be suffering from Post Traumatic Syndrome.”
“Or she’s faking it,” Spencer shot back. “Where is she now?”
“I left her at the safe house alone.”
“And you trust her?” Spencer cursed.
Luke grimaced. “Yes.”
“You’re a damn fool, Devlin,” Spencer snapped. “Maybe Sutton told her about this project, and she’s fabricating these nightmares to gain your sympathy. First she seduces you, then she returns and entices you to buy into some sob story. When are you going to realize that her behavior is purely devious?”
Luke refused to admit verbally Spencer might be right.
But the bigger question that plagued him was if Stella’s treatment could be reversed. He’d have to discuss the matter with the FBI psychologist.
Deprogramming would be her only defense if the worst happened. After all, the prognosis for battered and severely abused children was dismal. Many victims turned out to be serial killers, rapists, sociopaths, suicidal at best. As Quinn had stated, very few ever lived a normal life.
The episode at the river where Stella had almost drowned rose to haunt him.
“I’ll keep you posted,” Luke said, then hung up before Spencer could argue. The man was an icon at the bureau. Luke’s erratic actions the past year had lost him credibility. But he still had to rely on his instincts. If a man lost that on the job, he had nothing.
And he was walking the ledge…had been for some time.
He neared the safe house and was surprised that most of the lights were off. Maybe Stella had crawled into bed to rest.
The image taunted him to forget his mission and join her, but he hardened his resolve as he parked and scanned the property in case someone had located them. When he entered the house, the lights were off, and silence engulfed him, sending a bad vibe down his spine. Either she was asleep or she wasn’t inside.
His pulse accelerated as he checked the den and found it empty. He tiptoed to the guest bedroom and peeked inside. The bed was still made, the curtains drawn. No Stella.
He gritted his teeth, his gut reaction one of fear that someone had gotten to Stella. But so far, nothing looked disturbed.
His next thought was that she had left of her own accord. Which meant that she might have returned to Sutton’s.
And be working against Luke.
Lying to him. Making a fool out of his impossible attraction to her.
Unnerved by both possibilities, he quickly checked the other bedroom but found it undisturbed as well.
Frustrated, he stalked back to the living room area. Then he spotted a notepad on the end table. The top sheet of paper had been torn away, but an indention on the following sheet resembled letters. He grabbed a pencil, placed it on its side and rubbed back and forth until the words below appeared.
The number for a cab company.
Damn.
He phoned the cab company, identified himself, then threatened to report the man who answered for interfering with an investigation of a possible kidnapping if he didn’t cooperate. Wavering, the man checked his dispatch person, then connected Luke to the cabdriver.
“I’m looking for information. It’s urgent.” Luke recited the address of the safe house, gave Stella’s description, then asked for the address where the man had dropped her.
The street name the driver reported back matched Drake Sutton’s.
“Did she look upset? Under duress?” Luke asked.
“A little nervous maybe. She kept fidgeting with the door handle, but there was no one else in the cab. No one put a gun to her head.”
Luke thanked him then hung up, the realization that Stella might still be working with Sutton staring him boldly in the face.
A fraction of a second later, the sound of an engine roared outside. He checked his weapon, then peered out of the corner of the window. A cab stopped in front of the house. He held his breath as Stella climbed from the taxi and walked up the driveway.
Another car appeared on its tail. A dark sedan.
Suddenly gunfire blasted through the air. The cab screeched away. Stella screamed and ran toward the house. He opened the door, dove behind the porch column, then fired into the darkness. Stella threw herself to the ground, then crawled through the grass toward him while he tried to cover her.
The bullets continued flying, pinging right at her.
STELLA CLUTCHED at the ground, dodging the bullets, but one nicked her shoulder, and she dropped even lower onto the grass, throwing her hands over her head for protection. Luke fired rapid shots in succession, yelling at her to stay down. Sutton’s warning that she had to help him or Luke would die echoed in her head, but the shooter wasn’t Sutton. Her father.
No, she’d never call him that.
She belly-crawled her way to the porch just as the car sped away. Luke jumped off the porch and kept firing, grabbing her by the arm. She winced but jumped up and clung to him as they ran inside the house.
As soon as they were safe, he swung her around, anger and concern darkening his eyes. “Are you all right?” He moved toward her to check her wound, but she waved him off.
“I’m fine. I just got grazed.”
“Let me look at it.”
“No, Luke, I’ll clean it up later.”
He gave her a blistering stare. “Who the hell was that, and where have you been?”
She held up a hand to calm him. “Luke, I can explain.”
“The hell you can. You led the damn perps right to the safe house.” He grabbed his cell phone and motioned her to the door. “Come on. I’ll find us another location. Then I expect you to talk.”
She swallowed the knot of fear in her chest. She’d almost died out there and wanted nothing more than for Luke to hold her. Make her forget that she was Sutton’s daughter, and that her mother had sold her to be turned into a killer.
But she’d endangered Luke when she’d intended to protect him by playing along with Sutton.
Luke hustled her toward the car, and she hunched inside, rubbing her arm where her shoulder throbbed. Blood seeped through her shirt, but she didn’t complain. She deserved what she’d gotten. She just didn’t know how to make things right.
“This is Devlin,” he said into the phone. “We need another safe house.” He hesitated, and she assumed he was talking to Detective Black.
Stella wondered if Sutton had tapped Luke’s line. His earlier threat had proven his desperation to keep her under his thumb. Sutton would kill anyone she cared about if it meant keeping her in line. She should have been more careful. Should have noticed someone following her…
Luke accelerated, and they raced from the island to a smaller one called Lady’s Isle. A few tense minutes later, he parked in back of a beach cottage that looked ancient but would do for the night.
“Black’s sending over another car to swap with us.”
She nodded, and followed him. Her stomach churned when they stepped inside the den. He flipped on the overhead light, led her to the bathroom and began to pull at her shirt. “You’re hit. Let me see your wound. Then we’ll talk.”
She grabbed his hands. “Luke stop, let me explain.”
His eyes met hers in the mirror, the coldness back. “Tell me why, Stella. Why did you go back to Sutton? Because you’re using me? Working against me? Has everything between us been a lie?”
She didn’t ask how he knew she’d been with Sutton. He was an FBI agent. He had his ways. Just as Sutton did.
“No, it’s not like that, Luke.”
Luke reached for her shirt again, but Stella pushed his hands away. Guilt ate at her. She couldn’t accept his help.
Yet she wanted him desperately at the same time.
“I can clean the wound.” She peeled the blouse off her shoulder to expose the bloody flesh. The bullet had grazed the skin, but wasn’t embedded. She reached for a washcloth to dampen it, but Luke did it instead. His breath bathed her neck as he gently blotted the blood from her wound.
“Does it hurt?” he asked gruffly.
“It’s fine.” Tears stung her eyes at his kindness.
“Then why do you look like you’re
going to cry?”
Sutton’s intimidation tactics flashed back. “Let’s just say I didn’t hear the answers from Sutton that I’d wanted.”
His hand stilled, then the other gently massaged her arm. She glanced in the mirror and saw him watching her over her shoulder.
His cold look softened. “What did you learn, Stella?”
That Sutton is my father.
No, she couldn’t admit to that. It was too shameful. “I…asked him about my mother. How I came to stay with him.”
“And?”
“When I was growing up, he told me that she’d been in a boating accident. The other day he said she’d abandoned me. But today he admitted that…that she sold me instead.”
The barest of a reaction flashed in Luke’s gaze. Disbelief. Disgust. Pity.
“She sold you for money?”
“Apparently so. According to Sutton, he saved me.”
Luke muttered a curse. “Saved you from what?”
“I…don’t know. He allowed them to use me in their sick experiments.” She hesitated, wondering if it would have been better if he’d let her die in the fire.
“He lied before, Stella. Who’s to say he isn’t lying now?”
Stella shrugged. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. “There’s something else,” Stella said, her pain spilling over in her voice. “Today, when you were at the fire…I had flashbacks of the blaze that destroyed the orphanage. I remembered some of the other children.”
“And?”
He traced a finger along her cheek, brushing her hair away. The movement was both erotic and so tender that an ache settled in her chest.
If she’d once been a hardened agent or killer, she certainly had fallen from the role.
“They died,” she said quietly. Her chest shook with unshed emotions. “I…remember hearing them scream, begging Sutton to go back and save them, but it was too late. They died in the fire.”
Luke dropped his head forward, then pulled her back against him and slid his arms around her. “God, Stella.”
The dam of emotions burst, and her tears overflowed. Heart-wrenching sobs racked her body, the memories and horrors flooding back. “There was another man there, too, Luke, someone they called the Master.”
