“Of course, nothing Michael or any of the Renegades do is ever enough to prove they are loyal to their country. My father wants them all destroyed, and he has done everything in his power to convince the government they should be.”
Lara leaned back in her chair, the headache throbbing in her temples, while images of Skywalker being shot intruded on her consciousness, followed by another of herself in a jail cell, with Powell sitting across from her. When was she in a cell, and why was Powell there?
“Now the women he rescued call themselves the Wardens,” Cassandra continued, pulling Lara back to the moment. “They monitor for high instances of female abductions, state by state, and then we send in a Renegade team when we feel we’ve found an area the Zodius are targeting.”
“She fails to tell you,” Becca said, “that she set up the program, and is now the ‘Queen Warden,’ as the girls jokingly call her.”
Cassandra waved off the compliment. “Those women are the heroes, not me. Michael too, for saving them.”
“You stood up to your father,” Becca said, touching Cassandra’s hand.
Lara liked these women, Cassandra in particular. There was something about her story that touched Lara on an almost personal level. “That was incredibly brave of you.”
Lara’s eyes met Cassandra’s, and she saw the hurt there, the torment. Lara’s stomach churned, and she had a horrible prickling feeling in her eyes, like she could cry—she didn’t know exactly why. Only that she’d been prepared to kill as many Renegades as she could, thirsted for it like she did her next drink of water. Maybe she’d killed Renegades. Maybe she’d killed the friends and family of these women, of Sterling. How would she know? She didn’t even know her own last name.
Cassandra cut her gaze to her cup and took a sip, and Lara had the sense that she was trying to regain her composure. When Cassandra set the cup down, she’d clearly checked her emotions, any signs of distress gone. “Would you like to see the Wardens Operations Center, Lara? Maybe meet a few of the Wardens themselves?”
Lara was stunned by the offer. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Adam about the Wardens?”
“No,” Cassandra said without hesitation. “I’m not afraid you’re going to tell Adam anything.”
There was a silent message to the words. Cassandra didn’t believe Lara was working for Adam. Lara read it in the other woman’s face and between the lines of the conversation here today. Deserved or not, Lara was being given the opportunity to see beyond Powell’s version of the Renegades.
“Yes,” Lara said. “I’d very much like to see the Wardens’ operation.” In fact, women fighting for women, standing against those who had wounded them, sounded like exactly the kind of cause that would call to Lara. She absolutely wanted to know more about the Wardens.
Once Lara had left for her shopping expedition with the women, Damion and Sterling went in search of Caleb. When they discovered he was spending quality time with his scary, freak-of-nature nephew, who, at one year old, was physically a man in his twenties, Sterling had taken off. Which was understandable, since Dorian had tried to kill Becca several months before.
Damion found Caleb, Dorian, and Michael watching Star Wars in Caleb’s living room—a black and silver clone of his own room. The group sat around the now muted television, Damion and Caleb on the couch, Dorian, in a leather chair. Michael was standing, acting as a bodyguard to Caleb, watching the kid like he was a science project gone bad, which seemed more accurate than not: Dorian’s hair, long and white blond, was tied at his nape—it had been midnight black only days before. No one but Caleb believed Dorian could become a trusted Renegade, but Caleb was determined to prove them all wrong.
Damion stared at the kid, hesitating to speak openly with Dorian present, despite the fact that the kid seemed uninterested and continued to stare at the screen as if he could still hear the muted soundtrack.
“You can speak in front of Dorian,” Caleb said softly, drawing Damion’s attention.
Damion tore his gaze away from the kid and gave a quick nod. “When Cassandra introduced herself as Cassandra Powell, Lara looked like she’d seen a ghost. She knew his name and knew it well.”
“Damn,” Michael cursed, scrubbing his jaw. “I’d hoped that man was long gone, never to be heard of again. If Powell is back, this is going to be pure torture for Cassandra.”
“Knowing about Powell and knowing Powell are two different things,” Caleb commented. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.” He glanced at Damion. “How close are you to earning her trust and getting her to talk?”
“Close,” Damion said. “And right now, she’s with Cassandra and Becca on the Strip. Cassandra noticed her reaction to Powell’s name too.”
“Well, you can bank on Cassandra making sure Lara knows what a monster her father is,” Michael assured them. “On the other hand, you can also bank on Powell having painted us as absolute monsters. Whoever we’re dealing with convinced her that we’re the people who slaughtered her family. They even gave her memories of the brutal killings.” He glanced at Damion. “She really needs to take that CT scan, even if you have to force her, man. I know you think I’m an asshole for suggesting that, but this time, I’m saying it for her own protection. If Powell or someone else has inserted some kind of device in her head, who knows what long-term effects it might have. God forbid that it might kill her.”
Damion’s gut clenched. “You’re right. I hate that you’re right, but you are.”
“Not only is he right,” Caleb said, “but time is critical. There is a massive difference between dealing with Adam and dealing with Powell. Adam wants me alive, so I can join him as a leader of a new world, and he wants me to bring my men with me. Powell, on the other hand, wants us all dead, because he can’t control us.”
“Bring the woman to me,” Dorian said, fixing his swirling gray eyes on the room. “I will heal her and restore her memories.”
“No,” Michael and Damion said at the same moment.
Michael cut a sharp look at Caleb. “He is Adam’s son. If we’re wrong and this is Adam we’re dealing with, not Powell, then Dorian could kill Lara to keep her from talking.”
Dorian stared at Michael for several tense seconds before focusing on Damion. “If you do not wish me to save her, then you must save her yourself.”
Damion went icy inside. “What does that mean?”
“Do the blood exchange, or she will die,” Dorian said. He glanced at the television and back at Damion. “Did you know that Skywalker isn’t his real name? It’s Luke.” And then he turned and focused on the movie.
Damion sat there, stunned into silence by this confirmation that Lara was his Lifebond, something he’d tried to avoid.
“How do you know that, Dorian?” Damion ground out between his teeth.
Dorian shrugged. “It’s logical. You call someone Skywalker—it’s a nickname for Luke.”
“I’m not talking about Skywalker,” Damion said. “I’m talking about Lara.”
“Things come to me,” Dorian said. “And no, before you ask, I don’t have any more to tell you. I just know that without you doing the blood exchange with her, Lara will die.” He turned back to the television, dismissing Damion and the problem, as if it were nothing but a mosquito he’d just swatted and killed.
Damion could feel both Caleb and Michael watching him, and he knew they both understood the silent message in Dorian’s claim, the message that had Damion quaking from the inside out. Lara was Damion’s Lifebond.
“I’ll have Sterling look into any record of a ‘Luke’ in any of the government databases,” Caleb said. “It sounds like you need to go deal with Lara.”
Silence stretched heavily in the air, as Damion struggled with what he was feeling, what he was thinking, with the trust in Caleb’s eyes, the confidence that Damion would do the right thing where Lara was concerned. For the first time since serving under Caleb as a Renegade, Damion wasn’t sure he deserve
d that trust. He’d brought Lara here against orders. If she turned on them, he’d be responsible.
“I’ll deal with Luke and Lara myself,” Damion said finally.
Caleb gave him an assessing stare, but asked no questions. “Understood.”
Damion inclined his head, and then walked toward the door and into the hallway. Michael followed him, and they stepped onto a moving sidewalk side by side.
“So she’s your Lifebond,” Michael said. “That explains a lot.”
“Says Dorian,” Damion amended. “And I don’t trust Dorian and his motives any more than I trust Adam, no matter how much Caleb might.”
“You’re not wrong about her,” Michael surprised him by saying.
“You can’t know that.”
“She’s with Cassandra. If I didn’t think you were right about her, do you really think I’d let that happen?”
Damion cut him a sideways look. “Don’t trust me when it comes to Lara. I don’t trust me when it comes to Lara. I’m not objective.”
“You don’t have to be,” he said. “You know her. She’s your Lifebond.” He said the words as if they were not only proven fact, but some sort of profound answer to every question Damion might ask from that point onward.
As much as Damion wanted Michael to be right, he reminded himself he had to be objective about Lara. Anything that occurred as a result of her presence or involvement with the Renegades was his doing, his responsibility, which meant he needed to find out Lara’s true identity, and he needed to find out now.
After traveling from the coffee shop to a separate operational wing of the city, Lara met several of the female Wardens, and now stood in a conference room where maps and sticky pins tracked abductions. “It’s incredible what you’re doing here,” she told Cassandra and Becca. She discreetly pulled out a leather chair from around the long, rectangular table and sat down, trying to hide the growing pain in her head.
“It’s not enough,” Cassandra said, as she and Becca sat down as well. “Not when you think about what these women endure in those sex camps. We don’t save them all, but it’s better than doing nothing. For those women who are unable to leave here because the Trackers can find them, it gives them something to live for.”
“Like me,” Lara said softly. “The Trackers can find me as well.” She was a prisoner here, no matter how she looked at it. If Lucian had always been able to track her, then she’d simply been on a leash that she hadn’t known existed. Now, she was on another leash, because even if she could leave Sunrise and wanted to, she’d be hunted all too easily by too many potential enemies to count. Powell was no more what he’d seemed than the Renegades were the demons he’d painted them to be. He’d made her the Renegades’ enemy, and she wasn’t sure she could change that, no matter how much she might want to.
“You should have the ability to shield yourself,” Becca said, drawing Lara back into the conversation. “It makes sense to me that you can’t. But I’m not buying the idea that because you’re female you’re incapable of such a skill. Both myself and Cassandra can shield ourselves from the Trackers.”
Cassandra didn’t look quite as convinced. “I couldn’t until Michael and I completed our blood bond, and even then, it took me some time. You had unique abilities develop even before you Lifebonded, Becca.” She looked thoughtfully at Lara. “Still, since you’re GTECH, whatever is causing your headaches could be interfering with your shielding ability.”
Her voice softening, Cassandra continued, “Lara, listen. I know you don’t know who to trust or what to believe. I even understand why. We’re the good guys though. I really want to convince you of that.” Becca held up a finger. “I have an idea.”
The next thing Lara knew, she’d talked to an FBI agent in Nevada and an army sergeant named Ryker who knew Sterling well, both by way of Skype, and both well informed about the Renegades and the Wardens.
“So,” Becca said. “Now do you believe us when we say we’re the good guys?”
Lara nodded, emotion balled in her chest. “I do.” Which made her one of the bad guys. What had Powell involved her in? What had Powell made her do that she might not even remember? And, oh God, what if the scenario was even worse? What if she was blaming Powell, when the truth was that she willingly, knowingly, without coercion, had done bad things—maybe even really bad things?
“So take the CT scan,” Cassandra encouraged. “What if there’s something planted in your brain that we need to surgically remove?”
Lara’s gaze snapped to Cassandra. “Planted in my brain?” She shook her head. “The GTECH body destroys foreign objects.”
“Typically, yes,” Cassandra agreed, “but maybe my father came up with a way to prevent that from happening.”
Her father. Cassandra had just said “her father,” as if she was completely certain Lara was working for Powell. Lara wasn’t sure how to respond. She wasn’t ready to admit Powell was involved, because she wasn’t sure what role she played in this nightmare. All she knew was that she had to know who she was, and what she’d done, before they did—before Damion did.
“I’ll do the CT scan.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
An hour and a half after heading to the Sunrise Hospital, Lara had been poked, prodded, scanned, and thus far, given a perfect bill of health. As much as Lara would have liked to be happy about that news, it did nothing to give her back her memories, nor did it stop the flashes of images in her mind or the growing throb in her temples.
“A few more minutes,” Cassandra said, sitting on the medical stool beside the leather hospital chair Lara currently occupied. A portable machine set between them, wires attached to the pads stuck to Lara’s neck and forehead, to test her brain wave activity. So far, the test had been uneventful and painless, at least on her end. She couldn’t see the monitor, and based on the tension she felt radiating off Cassandra, she was pretty sure she didn’t want to.
Lara closed her eyes, willing the images into her mind, desperate for answers when that strange tingling sensation on the back of her neck started again. Lara opened her mouth to mention it to Cassandra, in case it affected the test readings, but before she could speak, Cassandra stood up. “One second. Michael is here. Let me tell him what’s going on, and then we should be able to wrap this up.”
Lara frowned. “How do you know he’s here?”
“The Lifebond mark on my neck is like an early alert system,” she explained. “It tingles like crazy when he’s nearby.” She opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, leaving Lara gaping behind her with the implications of what she’d said.
Damion stepped inside the room and shut the door. Their eyes locked and held, and the room shrunk. There was something new in the air between them, or maybe she imagined it—maybe it was simply her knowledge of what the tingling on her neck might mean. Either way, big, broad, and lethal, he stole her breath and set her heart racing. The tingling faded to a warm caress across her entire body. Could this man be her Lifebond?
He sauntered toward her. “What happened to calling me if you needed to go to the hospital?”
“I was afraid you’d talk me out of it.”
He grabbed the rolling stool Cassandra had just occupied and slid close. Lara remembered the cabin, remembered him doing the same then. She remembered every second with Damion, so why couldn’t she remember the rest of her life?
“Seriously,” he said, those hazel eyes of his probing hers, “what changed your mind about the testing?”
You. I don’t want you to hate me. “It’s that women’s prerogative thing.”
“Lara,” he said softly.
“I’m tired of not knowing, but so far, this hasn’t worked out how I’d hoped. There is no easy fix. My memories won’t return with a snap of the fingers.”
“I’m back,” Cassandra said, entering the room. “Okay, Lara. We can unhook you now, and you can head out.”
“What about the results?” Damio
n asked, rolling backward so Cassandra could get to the machine.
Cassandra didn’t look up at his question, busying herself by pulling the pads from Lara’s forehead. “Kelly and I are going to talk them over.”
Lara knew avoidance when she witnessed it. Gently, she shackled Cassandra’s wrist. “They aren’t good, are they?”
Cassandra stopped what she was doing and turned so that she could speak to both of them. “Look. I don’t want to jump to conclusions here. For a human, the results aren’t good. In fact, they’re downright unsustainable. But you aren’t human, Lara. Sleep and time can do wonders for GTECHs, and since we didn’t test you before the three-day snooze you took, we don’t know if you are better or worse. So Kelly and I both agree that you should try to sleep another eight to twelve hours, and then let me re-run the test to see if there are any improvements.”
“What exactly do you think was done to her?” Damion asked, taking the words right out of Lara’s mouth. “What are we up against here?”
Cassandra pressed her hand to her forehead and then pressed her fists to her waist. “Okay. I wasn’t going to talk about this until I did some more research, so let me preface this by saying it’s pure speculation,” Cassandra replied. “I did read a couple of studies on a sophisticated army brainwashing program when I was at Area 51. Which means my father had access to them as well. The end result of those tests wasn’t good, which is why the techniques weren’t used.” She held up a hand. “But those studies were done on humans, not GTECHs.”
“Brainwashing,” Lara said, in stunned disbelief. “You think I was brainwashed?”
“Speculation,” she said. “That’s all this is. But yes. It seems logical and a way around the GTECH’s ability to destroy any inserted object or device. However, the miracle of the GTECH body is that it evolves and adapts. My theory is that your mind is trying to heal itself and undo the artificial memories.”
“Artificial memories,” Lara murmured, staring at the ground. That was why she couldn’t remember her family. They weren’t real. But Skywalker was. Skywalker was real and he was dead. And Sabrina was responsible. Powell was too.