Make Mine a Marine (19 page)

She checked the other pillow and found it plumped and unused. It made her think Brodie had never been with her, had never cradled her tenderly in his arms, had never used his lips and hands and body to lead her slowly and completely through the most beautiful night of her life.

Had it been a dream? Had last night been a trick of her screwed-up mind? BJ rolled onto her side and pulled her legs up into a fetal position, hating the little nigglings of self-doubt creeping in to spoil her contentment.

Though inexperienced in such matters, she felt reasonably sure that the aches in her body were real. The emotions Brodie had aroused in her were real enough. Maybe she should trust her body and heart instead of her mind.

BJ believed Brodie needed the reassurance of two hearts joining as one as much as she did. He pledged to protect her. He treated her with care and respect. He allowed her a power over him so she didn't feel frightened or intimidated by his size and appearance.

Yet forces beyond the grasp of either of them controlled their destiny. More than love was at stake in her relationship with Brodie. She finally accepted the evil curse that had dictated the choices in his life for nearly eight centuries.

She heard him in the kitchen making coffee. Whether or not she trusted the reality of last night's passionate affirmation of love, this morning he was avoiding her.

“Damn the man,” she muttered, clutching the other pillow and hugging it against her stomach.

Brodie loved her. She knew that as surely as she knew her own love for him.

But he believed that loving her guaranteed her death. He could give her one beautiful night, but he refused to promise her any future beyond that.

BJ lay there in the creeping light of dawn, mulling over Brodie's fear that the people he loved would always die. She considered his declaration that the only way to release him from immortality was for the person he loved to sacrifice herself.

How did one make such a sacrifice in the modern world? Throw herself in front of a bullet? A bullet couldn't kill Brodie. Would that really be a sacrifice?

She wanted to free him of his curse, to free him to love her without reservation. He had granted her the power, if not the permission, to do it. But how? Sorcery seemed destined to keep them as separate as night and day.

He could leave her, or she could die and leave him. Was that really a choice?

Either way, the only victor would be the evil that wanted them apart.

Chapter Twelve

“We've got work to do.”

BJ tried to sound more confident than she felt. The resolution that had carried her through an awkwardly silent breakfast and drive into the city started to fail her when they walked through the doors at LadyTech.

Brodie seemed relieved that she hadn't pushed any kind of closeness or heart-to-heart talk that morning. But she also sensed the concern in him. The distance she had placed between them was respectful, not cold. But distance was unnatural for her. Even against a threat such as Brodie imagined himself to be, she had never kept her distance.

But for Brodie's sake, she would do it. Despite the protests of her heart, despite the hope that cried out against logic, she would remove the personal overtones from their relationship. She'd make them boss and bodyguard once again—even if it killed her.

Today, she didn't find the play on words all that amusing.

“You track down Rick. Keep him occupied for about an hour. I want to dig into his files and see what I can find.”

Brodie grasped her elbow, then pulled his hand away as though he regretted touching her. Not wanting him to feel the sting of a rejection that didn't exist, BJ stopped and looked up at him.

“Will you be all right?” That sinfully sexy voice rumbled with concern from the depths of his chest.

BJ reassured him with a smile. “I'll let Emma know what we're up to. She can keep an eye on me.” She nodded toward the back of the building. “Rick's generally in the warehouse playing a pick-up game of basketball this time of morning.”

“I'll find him.”

Brodie nodded curtly, then turned and strode through the station carrels toward the warehouse door. BJ watched him over the tops of the movable walls, already missing the strength of his broad shoulders. With his regal bearing and easy gait, he must have been quite a dashing member of some king's court all those years ago, before scars and time and heartache had taken their toll on his body and soul.

Would he have loved her if they had met in the thirteenth century? Would he even have noticed her? BJ considered the man beneath the harsh exterior. Honesty, loyalty, and a sense of right and wrong etched on his very heart made up the true man. Sir Brodie Maxwell might not have paid Bridget Kincaid any heed back then. But if she needed his help, if she asked him to protect her—in the Middle Ages or the twenty-first century—she knew he would sacrifice his love, his honor, even his life, to keep her safe.

Could she be brave enough to do the same for him?

Only after the door closed behind Brodie did she dash up the grand staircase and head toward the executive offices.

“I can't wait to string him up myself.” Emma paced inside the door, maintaining a lookout position while BJ investigated the files Rick had buried deeply within LadyTech's computer system.

“Subliminal suggestion.” Shock blended with stunned fury when BJ hit paydirt and broke the password that let her into Rick's files.

“What are you talking about?” Emma stopped her pacing.

“Just a minute. Let me isolate the screen.” When BJ found the picture she wanted, she froze the image on the monitor. “Tell me you see that, too.”

Emma stood behind BJ and looked over her shoulder. “It's a lightning bolt inside a circle.”

BJ leaned back, knowing profound relief. “This is the symbol that triggers the episodes.”

She pounded her fist on her desktop, scattering several teddy bears onto the floor. “Damn it! He's been controlling me over the computer lines. This is my forte, and I didn't even see it. He's got to be tapped in at home, too. He talks to me or calls me, and programs me like one of my own computers.”

Emma gave her a consoling smile. “Hang in there. You have to stay calm and rational to beat this.”

“You're right.” Frustration churned in BJ's stomach. “I just want to know why. What did I ever do to Rick?”

Emma remained calm. “Probably nothing. Greed and jealousy feed upon themselves. Maybe he had this planned from the moment he joined the company.”

BJ sighed. “You know, he's a clever enough technician, but I never thought he was innovative enough to come up with a scheme like this all on his own.”

“Forget him for now. Did you find the files I mentioned?”

“Yes.” BJ cleared the screen and called up the sequence of hidden files she had uncovered. “He's tapped in to Takahashi, all right. And the Swiss bank account. And some place in the Cayman Islands. I think I can disengage the connections without calling attention to LadyTech. That is, if I can find them all.”

The lines scrolled by with ominous abundance. Then a name caught her eye that made BJ lean forward and type in a quick series of commands.

“Oh, my God.”

Shadowy memories fluttered across BJ's consciousness, teasing her memory, but vanishing before she could latch on to them and understand.

“What is it?” Emma's concern matched BJ's.

“He's tapped into the Morrisey Institute.” BJ glanced up at Emma. “There's an open net between LadyTech and Damon's lab.”

“Is he stealing data from Morrisey Labs, too?”.

“No.” BJ paused, trying to make sense of the implication on the screen. “He's transmitting our stuff over there.”

“A mole? Rick Chambers is a mole for the Morrisey Institute? They're a research institution—we produce market-ready products. What's the connection?”

BJ frowned with skepticism, too, though not for the same reason. “Somebody who works for Damon must be in on this, too. The feed for the subliminal symbols comes directly from the Morrisey labs.”

Brodie's blatant, mutual dislike and distrust of Damon immediately crowded her thoughts. But Damon would never do anything to hurt her. Even if his attempts were occasionally misguided, he'd always taken care of her. He'd always loved her.

Still, she felt compelled to say it out loud. “Damon wouldn't do this to me.”

Emma squeezed BJ’s shoulder. “Of course not. But maybe Damon can help us out from his end, since you know what to look for now.”

“Right.” BJ reached for the phone, but never touched it. A knock at the door indicated her hour was up. Brodie had returned.

She stood to face her enemy while Emma crossed to the door and opened it.

Rick stood in the doorway, his retreat effectively blocked by Brodie's imposing silhouette behind him. Rick fell back on the abrasive bravado that had won him few friends in the past. He stepped inside, pointing a finger at Emma. “I want you to arrest this man for harassment.”

“You're fired.” Emma smiled smugly at Rick's open-mouthed reaction. Then she winked over her shoulder at BJ. “I'll let you and Brodie handle it from here.”

Rick gaped stupidly at Emma when she walked past him, out of the office. BJ almost pitied the man when Brodie ushered him inside and shut the door. Rick looked different from his usual, immaculate self. Sweat beaded his forehead and hairline. Damp, wrinkled workout clothes clung to his skin. His hair hung loosely over his shoulders, falling out of its usual ponytail.

“I want my lawyer.”

“That's not an option.” When Brodie spoke, Rick jumped closer to BJ. Not that he'd find an ally in her, but she couldn't blame him for being intimidated.

“I found your files, Rick. What you're doing is illegal. LadyTech won't be a party to it.” She watched him struggle to regain some of his composure. Gloating triumph lit inside her, feeling unnatural, but she seized upon the strength it gave her. “I also had an interesting bit of memory recall yesterday.”

Rick's eyes blazed darkly.

“I remember you attacking me and shooting me full of something. I remember you planting the trigger to a posthypnotic suggestion.”

Found out, Rick's face turned a variety of colors as he worked through his emotions, pale white, sickly green, angry red, then finally a flush of pink. He crossed his arms in a pose of cocky confidence. “So what are you going to do about it? Arrest me? Worry the rest of your life that I can punch a button anywhere in the world and tap into your head?”

BJ felt the first waver in her own confidence. Rick seized the weakness and stepped toward her, but was stopped by Brodie's hand on his shoulder. Rick smiled and acquiesced. Brodie released him.

“Prisons have computers, too. I can control that arrogant brain of yours anywhere, anytime I want.”

“I can erase your programs, Rick.”

He laughed, a sick, disgusting sound. “They're
your
programs, Beej. You're the one who cracked the security lockout in Washington. You're the one who reorganized the accounts in Bern. I'm just a guy a little smarter than you who can make you do whatever I please.”

BJ hugged herself, fighting the urge to crumple into her chair. She looked beyond Rick to Brodie. The vein that betrayed his intense emotions throbbed beneath his scarred cheek. He was holding back, allowing her to control this confrontation. His silent support gave her the strength to continue.

“I'm cognizant now. I know how you're doing this. I can fight it.”

“Can you?” Rick glanced at Brodie, then moved past BJ to a neutral corner of the office. She turned, not willing to leave her back exposed to him. “I want you to guarantee me there will be no criminal prosecution. And I want that position in Tokyo.” He smiled at her, rubbing his hands together. “Or I'll never release you from the mind control.”

The floor spun beneath her feet and rushed up to greet her. But she fell against the sturdy wall of Brodie, who gripped her by the arms and supported her until she could think clearly again.

“Shut up, Chambers.” She had never heard Brodie sound so menacing before. Even she trembled within his hands. “You're not controlling her. You're as much a victim of this game as she is.”

“I'm no victim,” Rick countered. “None of you believe that I'm the real genius here.”

“Where did you learn about posthypnotic suggestion? You're trained in computers, not psychiatry. Think, Chambers.”

Brodie's muscles bunched in controlled fury behind BJ. Rick looked shaken. BJ's thoughts whirled in confusion.

Brodie charged ahead, relentlessly. “You don't remember where you learned it, do you? Because you didn't. You're nothing more than a pawn in a cruel, sadistic game, being manipulated just as completely as BJ.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.” Brodie released BJ and stalked toward Rick. The smaller man fell back a step. “You're being used by a sorcerer who's put you under a spell. He can control people's minds with a flick of his wrist and a whim. He's using you.”

“Who is
he
?” BJ's question drowned out Rick's. “Brodie, what are you talking about? I remember what happened.”

Brodie turned and looked down at her, his eyes brimming with such pain that BJ went to him. But he pulled his arm away at her touch.

“Do you remember what happened two days ago when you saw Morrisey?”

BJ admitted a surprisingly vague recollection. “I talked with him most of the morning. He brought in some experts to interview me.”

“After that. Do you remember?”

The look he gave her was so pointed and forceful that she had to lower her gaze. For Brodie's sake, she tried to remember the details. But the harder she concentrated, the more elusive the memory became. She remembered going down to the interview room. She remembered Damon nixing her protests. She remembered…

Nothing.

Her recollection of that day ended with Damon tapping her on the nose, or some such silly, loving gesture. She couldn't recall a single question the so-called experts had asked her.

What she did recall was a sensation of panic, of hopelessness and fear. What she couldn't re-member was why.

“Do you remember me carrying you out of there?”

Brodie seemed so angry, like a storm brewing beneath the surface. But was he angry with her? Or was the anger directed at himself? Or at Rick?

“I don't remember leaving.”

“Because he cast a spell over you.”

“Rick?”

“No, damn it!” Brodie's voice rattled the furniture. “This won't stop when you put Chambers away. This will go on forever until you confront him.”

“Who?” His attack sparked her own anger.

Brodie suddenly hunched his shoulders and lowered his voice, making himself smaller, trying hard not to scare her. “I didn't want to tell you. I don't want to hurt you.”

Even with a sinking heart, BJ demanded an answer. “Who do you think is behind this?”

“Damon Morrisey.”

The name hung in the air while BJ processed it. Facts jumbled like pieces of an unworkable jigsaw puzzle in her head. The glimmer of understanding that toyed with her got pushed aside by her denial of the one thing in this world she could not accept.

“Damon?”

“He's a fellow immortal. He's using sorcery, not science, to control you.”

“Damon?” BJ repeated dumbly.

Rick's laughter bounced through the room. “This is
my
scheme. I don't know how thoughts get through that muscle inside your head, Maxwell, but this one's obviously out of left field.”