Siren's Surrender (14 page)

Blake gritted his teeth. Yeah, yeah. He already knew that he had an ability to distance himself from emotional occurrences and still keep functioning. A lot of people in high-risk jobs did it every day.

He was trying to change that side of himself. Desperately. “Tell that to my son,” he snapped. “I may know the rules, but Trevor doesn’t. How the hell can I explain to him I won’t be seeing him for God knows how long?”

Fletcher offered a conciliatory smile. “Just live with it for a while. It won’t last forever. Besides, your son is only four, and you’re not a part of his daily routine. He won’t miss you much.”

The coldhearted bitch.

It was obviously no use to try and appeal to her maternal side. “For Christ’s sake, Frances. I’m fighting in court now to see more of Trevor, not less. That yahoo Debra married is bucking for a transfer to LA and if they make the move, I’ll see even less of my kid than I do now.”

Frances Fletcher spread out her hands helplessly. “I hear you, but my hands are tied.”

If there was one thing Blake hated, it was being backed into a corner. Threatened, he would come out swinging.

He reached for the badge in his pocket. “Then I’ll resign. Right now.” He tossed his identification on her desk. “There. Take it. I’m through. My kid means more than the shit you’re trying to pull on me.”

Frances Fletcher didn’t blink. “Not going to work, Blake.” She shook her head. “Lose that shield and you’re demoted to plain old civilian. A civilian who has information we can’t allow to be released to the general public. As one who has made contact, you go into quarantine, anyway.” She picked up his shield and tossed it back. “You might as well keep your rank and your paycheck. You’ll be getting a raise, by the way, to compensate you for the inconvenience.”

Blake reluctantly retrieved his gold shield. An emotional knot wedged in his throat. He really didn’t have a choice and he knew it. “It’s not enough compensation for losing Trevor,” he grumbled under his breath.

Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on his knees and massaged his eyes with his fingers. He was too drained to argue points he couldn’t win. As much as Fletcher’s words stung, he was not deluded enough to deny them. Everything she’d pointed out was probably the truth.

After he’d made his call for aid, the agency had gone into immediate action, sweeping through the scene of the attack with a cold and calculated efficiency. Evidence was gathered, witnesses were rounded up, and a total press blackout was declared.

Blake had believed the agency would only quarantine the hostile Mer who had attacked the island. Not so. The government’s grip had tightened, and they’d taken everyone on the island into custody.

Tessa and Kenneth Randall, Addison Lonike . . . and Gwen.

Their lives were no longer their own. For all intents and purposes they belonged to the alien sciences division. All freedom, rights, and liberties afforded by the Constitution of the United States no longer applied to them.

He frowned.
Apparently it doesn’t apply to me either.
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness had just been yanked out from beneath his feet.

“Are you going to be all right, Agent Whittaker?” Fletcher’s voice was tightly controlled.

Blake finally lifted himself up with a heave. His entire body trembled with the effort. God, he was exhausted, bone tired. Nevertheless, he drew back his shoulders and called on all his inner willpower to appear calm. Inside, his stomach was churning acid.

“You guys have really backed me into a corner here,” he countered angrily. “And truth be told, if this had happened before Trevor was born I probably wouldn’t have blinked an eye. But things are changing for me as my son grows up. I’m beginning to realize how gratifying it is to raise a child, be there for him.”

Fletcher nodded cautiously. “Go on.”

Blake rubbed a hand across his face. “Trevor’s still got a lot of firsts happening in his life. And I like being a part of those moments as he discovers the world around him. There will come a day when everything in Trevor’s life is routine, the same old shit every day.”

The older woman allowed a smile. “I have to say I missed a lot of those times with my own children.”

Blake decided to lay it all on the line. “It’s those times that have kept me going, Frances. Trevor reminds me I do have a purpose on this earth and that I am needed.” He shook his head. “Otherwise I would probably have put a gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger a few years ago.” It was true. His son kept the last of his humanity from slipping through his fingers. It wasn’t much to hang on to, but it was something.

For the first time in a long time he had hope. And there was always a chance tomorrow would be better and brighter.

As his fingers drummed against her desk, Fletcher’s lips pressed into a serious line. Though she didn’t move so much as a brow, the wheels in her mind were turning. “I can sympathize, Blake,” she finally said. “Really I can. But you’re not the first person who has had to sacrifice family for work. As for your other admission, I don’t think there is a man or woman working in law enforcement today who hasn’t entertained those kinds of thoughts at one time or another.”

In other words, he needed to get over himself.

A long silence followed as if the room were holding its breath.

Dismay tightened in Blake’s chest. He might as well have been talking to a brick wall. “I see.”

Fletcher’s eyes took on a glacial chill. “Whether you like it or not, as an agent working in this organization, you belong to the United States government. We can keep you in custody as long as need be in the name of national security.”

He tried one last compromise. “I never said I couldn’t work this one,” he countered. “Just don’t keep me penned up like a dog, too.”

The assistant director smiled thinly. “If you really want out, that bullet you spoke about may be your only recourse.” She arched a well-tweezed brow. “Am I making myself clear, Agent Whittaker?”

In other words, the outfit could arrange to make him go away. And it would look like a suicide. Whether he actually pulled the trigger. Or not.

Blake leveled an unflinching gaze at his superior. Somehow he’d had a feeling this was the way events would play out.

It wasn’t easy to accept. It wasn’t right.

Blake stopped himself from clenching his fists. Getting mad all over again wouldn’t do him any good. It would just be wasted effort and he was too damn tired to keep spinning his wheels.

“Are you finished fucking me over?” he snapped.

“There is one last thing,” she added. “We’d like you to get close to the—” She checked her file. “Middle sister.”

Blake supplied a name. “Her name is Gwen.” He hated that the Lonike sisters were already being treated as something subhuman and lacking intelligence. The outfit regarded them as objects rather than living beings with thoughts and feelings of their own.

“Yes. Gwen. Of the three, she seems to be the most vulnerable, from what we’ve observed. Perhaps you could pay her some special attention.”

Grasping the meaning behind her words, Blake narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting I should try to seduce her?”

Frances Fletcher didn’t bat an eye. “If she trusts you, her sisters will be more likely to cooperate as well.” She lowered her head, peering over the top edge of her thick frames. “How far you take the intimacy is your own decision.”

S
ighing with relief, Gwen slipped on her sweater. It felt good to get out of those plain thin hospital gowns and into her own clothes.

Standing in front of the mirror, she gave herself a quick once-over. The outfit she’d chosen was simple but classy. A long-sleeved white cotton blouse and black slacks was her usual uniform when she worked. Low-heeled black flats kept the look casual and comfortable.

Satisfied her clothing was acceptable, she reached up and gave her cheeks a quick little pinch. Her skin was pale, almost dead white. A little touch of red would help her look more lively, healthier. The people who’d packed her bags hadn’t included anything but the basics. She had not a single cosmetic to her name, not even a tube of lipstick. Everything going in and out of her room was tightly controlled and inspected.

A deep frown creased her mouth. She wasn’t happy with the idea of strange people—government agents— digging through her personal possessions. It made her feel violated, a person unworthy of simple respect.

She glanced toward her wrists, so recently restrained. Thank heavens those had come off. She’d hated the feel of them against her skin, reinforcing the helplessness of her present situation. Instead of treating her and her sisters like victims of a vicious attack, the government lackeys acted like they were the aggressors.

Gwen hoped they could soon straighten out such a misguided notion. She was, after all, a citizen of the United Stated, born and raised in Maine. She was educated, a business owner, and certainly a tax payer. Even though she was a Mer, surely she should be accorded all the rights and liberties of an innocent person. She didn’t even have so much as a speeding ticket on her driver’s license.

Gwen checked her reflection a third time. She looked like any normal person. And by wearing long sleeves she didn’t have to endure the prying eyes of people who might find her outer scale pattern offensive. Even though most people took the markings for an elaborate tattoo, she didn’t care to show the pattern off to the public.

She frowned at the image staring back at her. “We are
not
freaks.” Somehow saying the words made her feel better. Though not much.

They still weren’t allowed to go home. In fact, Gwen had no idea what would happen next. The idea of not knowing, of not being in control of her own fate, made her sick inside.

She reached for the soul-stone hanging around her neck. Thank the goddess this small pendant hadn’t been confiscated from her. Though it was just a simple crystal, of no real value, for a Mer to lose her stone was comparable to being struck blind and deaf.

It was also the center of her power, the connection with the symbiote inside. Given the differences between human and Mer, it was easier to think of people as the lesser species, weaker and not as genetically advanced as the Mer. But that was wrong. Human beings had their place.

Just like the Mer should,
she reminded herself.
Ishaldi is a part of this earth, too. Our origins may be different, but we share a common planet.

That idea was the one that kept her cooperating with the people who had suddenly taken control of her life. It would do no good to throw a hissy fit. She could prove herself capable and functional through good manners and by doing what was asked of her.

Once the government realized their terrible mistake, she was sure they could all return to their normal daily lives.

At least she hoped they would.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and then a second. She knew she’d scared a lot of people when she’d gone haywire and lost control over her Mercraft. Truth be told, she had no idea how or why that had happened. Everyone was wary, tiptoeing around her like she was made of nitroglycerin. Nobody wanted to be around when she exploded again.

Swallowing hard to squelch her rising emotion, Gwen snatched up a tissue and dabbed away her tears. If she cried, it would ruin the illusion she was desperate to create. Outside, a destination she couldn’t even begin to imagine awaited her. She had no idea where she’d be going or what would be happening.

The door behind her opened.

A man clad in the familiar black suit stepped inside her room. “Miss Lonike?”

Gwen whirled on her heel, balling up the tissue in her hand. It would not do to be seen crying. She had to be strong. Showtime was near.

“Yes?” She managed to choke out the single word.

“Your sisters and brother-in-law are waiting for you.” The agent attendant gave the small dressing room a quick scan to make sure all was well. “Are you ready to go?”

Gwen offered a tentative smile to show she was fine. “Yes, I am.”

Time to act sane,
she thought. And try not to incinerate anybody.

She followed the agent down the hall, turning into another room similar to the one she’d recently occupied. Tessa and Addison were there, as well as Kenneth. True to form, Kenneth was arguing with a medic standing behind a wheelchair.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking out of here on my own two feet.” He thumped his chest. “I’m up, around, and I feel fine.”

Tessa hovered close by her husband. “Maybe you shouldn’t try to overdo it so soon, Ken,” she warned.

Addison nodded. “Yeah,” she chimed in. “You took a brutal beating.” Dressed casually in her usual jeans and T-shirt, Addison seemed not to notice or mind the stares at her arms. Her scale pattern was out there for all to see.

Kenneth eyed the wheelchair and shook his head. “I will walk,” he announced. “And when I get my hands on a fucking phone, I’ll be calling my attorney. It’s unconscionable for your people to hold us hostage here against our will. We have done nothing wrong.”

Another agent stepped into the room. The fine hairs on the back of Gwen’s neck rose. She knew without looking who had come in behind her.

She turned and stared wordlessly. Her second sense was dead on. It was Blake Whittaker.

Her breath immediately caught. Her skin suddenly heated, flesh going so tight she feared it would split and fall away from her bones. Her nipples were unusually sensitive, the hard little beads pushing against her plain cotton bra.

Though she was watching everybody, in her mind’s eye she saw only Whittaker. A surge of wildness rose inside her. The attraction was still there and worse than ever. Since they’d met she’d not been able to dream him, will him, or force him out of her mind.

Remembering the way his arms had slipped around her waist, the feel of his brawny body pressed against hers, her entire being ached relentlessly for more of his touch. Images of their two naked bodies locked together in passion flashed through her mind.