It hadn’t been the booze, he knew that. But something screwy had been going on when he sat up to look at her and it seemed for half a second that there was an entirely different woman in his bed. Just for a blink he’d seen Persephone writhing beneath him, her body arched and shaking from the orgasm he’d given her. Only for a blink, and Jena or Maria or whatever she claimed her name was had been back again, and he’d gone all wiggy and sent her home. So what the hell, he thought, was up with that?
He’d done a search on Persephone before but had also found nothing. No criminal record at all. Not even a parking ticket, which wasn’t so odd considering that as far as he could tell, she didn’t own a car.
Swigging beer, Kane tapped his computer to wake it up, then let his fingers rest on the keyboard. If he kept digging, he was going to find out who she was and where she came from. The question was, did he really want to know? What would happen when she was no longer a mystery? And what would he do, he thought, if he found out something he’d feel compelled to take action on?
So many questions, and he wasn’t usually the sort of guy to dwell on this kind of thing. Damn, the woman had gotten deep in his head and under his skin. It had to be more than just that she didn’t seem to want to give him the time of day. Sure, he’d had more than his share of women who’d been eager to jump his bones, but there’d been a number whose heads hadn’t even turned, just like any guy. He’d always considered it part of the game and moved on.
Until Persephone.
Now, while he dug into his lo mein and sipped at his beer without noticing much of the flavor, Kane started searching again. A friend of his who’d gone into private detective work had taught him some tricks about finding evidence of people who didn’t seem to have left any tracks, and he put them into play now. Finally, just before he meant to give up and turn on a movie instead, something popped up.
The article was brief, the mention that had been linked to his searching no more than a sentence or two. It was the photo that caught his attention. A group shot of a bunch of children dressed identically, boys and girls with the same haircuts, all long hair past their shoulders, so it made it difficult to tell them apart. Most of them were smiling—at least there was that, considering the accompanying text told a horrific story about the cult at Collins Creek.
Kane hadn’t heard about this group before, but that meant nothing. Cults were far from his area of expertise. Collins Creek turned out to be a fairly obscure cult as well, more mythical than anything according to the article. It said that rumors of the atrocities at Collins Creek were widespread and pervasive but had not been substantiated.
At Collins Creek, it had been all about the children. Pregnant women had purposefully exposed themselves to chemicals, drugs, sleep deprivation, while the men had also undergone voluntary exposure to environmental and mental stressors designed to not only affect the unborn babies but change them at conception. What the leaders had been trying to do was the subject of some controversy, but it seemed as though they’d been attempting to force mutations. To create psychic powers. The success rate was unknown, although there were plenty of rumors about that, too. Mostly, though, the only truth anyone could corroborate was that at some point about twenty years ago, a private group had invaded Collins Creek and taken away as many of the children as they’d been able to. At least the ones that had survived. And after that? All signs of the place had disappeared. Like Area 51, Collins Creek existed, but nobody would admit it or talk about what had gone on there.
Kane did not believe in aliens. He understood conspiracy theories only as the workings of people who had too much time on their hands and big imaginations. Looking at this article, he would usually have scoffed at the idea that there’d been a large farm full of psychically enhanced children running around it only a few hours’ drive away. But looking at the photograph, seeing the smiling faces of all those children, something like a chill skittered up and down his spine. He recognized the smiles on the faces of not one of those children, but two, and there in the fine-print caption below the picture, he saw the list of names.
One of them was Persephone.
Chapter 6
Meeting a horny businessman for cocktails and domination was not exactly the worst way to spend the afternoon, Persephone thought. The hotel was upscale, the food was good and he was paying for it.
He’d ordered room service, as she’d told him to do in advance, along with a bottle of very nice champagne that she hadn’t requested. She eyed it as she took a seat on the desk chair. “Celebrating?”
“Every date with you is reason for celebration,” he said.
Persephone paused to look at him. “Are you falling in love with me, Werner?”
Werner looked uncomfortable for a second before nodding. “Yes. I think so.”
“Don’t.” She raised a finger when he made to speak. “We talked about this right up front. What did I say?”
“You said that it would never be emotional, that it was purely business. It’s what I said...” He coughed, cutting his gaze from hers. “I said that was what I wanted.”
“Which is why I agreed to it.” She frowned, running a finger along the champagne bottle. For Werner, she wore her body older, taller, strong. Dark pageboy hair streaked with silver. She turned to him, still frowning. “You know this is only business, Werner.”
“I know. But it’s so difficult...” Incredibly, his voice hitched. He closed his eyes. Everything about him turned inward, away from her.
Persephone had seen Werner behave as though he was ashamed many times. It was part of his kink. One thing she had never seen him do was be genuinely distraught by anything they’d ever done. She took a step toward him in concern.
“Hey.”
His fists clenched. “It’s hard to find someone. Someone who gets it. Who...likes it. Well, who at least doesn’t make me feel like some kind of creep for liking what I like. Do you know how hard it is, Chelsea? To find someone who doesn’t make you feel like a freak?”
She sat next to him on the bed, aware that he was completely naked but not bothered by it. He’d been naked so many times in front of her, after all. Never quite like this. Nude skin, yes. This was different.
She took his hand. “Yes. I understand how hard it must be to find someone.”
Hell, it was hard enough to find someone just to go out with on a date, much less who didn’t mind making you beg for orgasms. Men like Werner could pay for sex, but the companionship also came with a price, and he’d always known it. She understood how it could finally have started to pale.
His shoulders hitched, and he still turned away from her. “I’m sorry. I know this wasn’t the agreement. You can leave. The money’s on the table by the door.”
“I’m not going to take your money, Werner.” Persephone stood, for one moment taking his chin in her hand the way she’d done many times before. This time not to chastise, scold or humiliate him. This time she held his face still when she brushed her lips over his cheek. “You take care of yourself. Okay?”
He’d closed his eyes at her kiss. She felt him straining toward her, but she didn’t kiss him again. He didn’t open his eyes. She stepped backward, for an instant catching a glimpse of herself in the wall mirror. Her own self, not the one she’d presented to him over the months of their acquaintance. If he looked at her now, he would still see Chelsea, but that was how it should be.
Without saying goodbye, Persephone ducked out of the hotel door. She paused to shuck the heels and replaced them with a pair of flats she had in her bag. She didn’t take the time to do anything with the tight, cleavage-baring dress that hit her midthigh, but she did shrug into a long loose-fitting cardigan.
She’d made it all the way through the hotel lobby and to the sidewalk beyond without so much as turning a head before a male voice stopped her short. She turned, certain she must
not have heard him say her name. Surely it would have to be a stranger calling out to someone else.
Certainly, she thought with a sinking stomach as she faced him, certainly it could not be Kane.
“I thought that was you,” he said cheerfully enough. He’d been leaning against the hotel near the smoking area, though to her knowledge he didn’t smoke.
“Yep, it’s me.” She rocked a little on her heels and jerked a thumb toward her chest. Heat flooded her throat and painted her face scarlet. She coughed and pasted on a smile.
“What’s up?” He glanced at the hotel entrance, then gave her a long, slow going-over that did nothing to relieve her rising blush.
“What’s up with you?” she asked boldly. The best way to get out of a sticky situation was by confronting it head-on. She’d learned that long ago. Something told her, though, that Kane was not going to fall for it.
He grinned. “Just hanging out. Meeting a friend.”
“Have fun.” It was code for a stakeout or something—she knew that by the sly way his mouth twisted. She’d never talked with Kane about his work, but of course she knew exactly what he did.
“Hey, hey,” he said as he stepped toward her. “Maybe I meant you?”
The moment he said it, he seemed to regret it. The expression was so comical that Persephone almost laughed. If ever a man wished he could take back what he’d just blurted out, that man was Kane just then.
“You’re not waiting for me,” she said crisply.
“No. We’re not friends. Right?”
She eyed him, then gave a begrudging smile. “Nope.”
“Not buddies, not pals, not chums.”
“No, no and definitely not.” She took a few steps backward before turning to walk away with a little wiggle of her fingertips over her shoulder.
Maybe being bold was going to pay off, she thought. God knew she’d played the same game with security officers at the mall with a bag full of lifted merch. Confidence and walking away without looking back had saved her ass a hundred times.
Not this time. Kane caught up to her in three or four long strides, falling into pace beside her. She could feel him looking at her.
“It’s a free country,” she said at last without so much as a glance his way. “I’m allowed out of the building, you know. I’m allowed to do whatever things I want to do during the day, and I don’t need to explain myself to you, either.”
“Was I asking for an explanation?” Kane paused, allowing her to move a few steps ahead before he jogged to catch up.
“What were you doing hanging around outside a fancy hotel at two in the afternoon?” Persephone whirled to walk backward for a few steps. “Loitering!”
Kane laughed. “Yep, loitering.”
“Hmm.” She faced forward again, walking, although not quite as fast as before.
Kane fell into step beside her again, this time not poking her with words. Just walking. She hadn’t intended to walk all the way home, but somehow hailing a cab now felt awkward, like he might try to jump in the car with her. Without saying anything, she turned into the park entrance to cut across it. Kane did, too.
It was a nice enough day for walking, at least. Sun bright but not too hot. Clear blue and cloudless sky. Walking the curving path through patches of flowers, Persephone let herself for briefest of moments imagine what it might be like if Kane took her hand.
Sappy, she scolded herself with a sideways glance at him. Even if she did want to risk getting involved with him beyond the anonymous sex, they would never be the sort of couple to skip through fields of flowers holding hands. Well, she wasn’t, for sure. Too late, he’d caught her looking.
“What?” Kane said.
“Nothing,” Persephone answered.
He smiled as though he knew she was full of it. “Uh-huh.”
With a sniff, she went back to ignoring him. Fifteen minutes later they were back at their building, the neighborhood very different from the one where they’d met up earlier. She was definitely overdressed, but that wasn’t what made her suddenly anxious.
It was the sight of Vadim sitting on the front steps, waiting for her.
Chapter 7
Kane knew at once something was wrong. Not so much by the look on Persephone’s face—she would definitely be a winner at the poker table. It was something subtler than that. A shift in her posture. The soft hiss of a drawn-in breath. Without thinking twice, he stepped between her and the man now standing on the concrete steps to the apartment building.
“Persephone,” the guy said in a deep, rich voice with a hint of an accent. “So good to see you again. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Clearly,” she said. “Well, I guess you’d better come on inside.”
“Kane Dennis,” he said, stepping forward with a hand out for a shake. He kept his voice light. Easy. Nonthreatening, even as he mentally ran through a checklist of what he’d do if the guy showed one second’s thought toward harming Persephone.
“Nice to meet you,” the guy said without offering a name. He smiled, but it was obvious he was not going to give Kane a damned thing. His attention turned back to Persephone. “That would be most appreciated. Thank you.”
Kane touched her shoulder. “Everything okay?”
For a moment it looked as though she meant to say no. Her mouth pursed, her brow furrowed. He couldn’t tell if she was annoyed with him for asking or if she was trying to tell him that no, she was not all right.
“Sure. Fine,” she said. No shake in her voice. She met his gaze without hesitation. A faint smile, maybe the nicest she’d ever given him, tipped the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, Kane, but I’m fine.”
Kane gave the nameless guy a narrow-eyed stare but didn’t pursue it. No matter how much he wanted to go all caveman and leap to Persephone’s defense, it was clear she didn’t want him to. Instead, he nodded and stepped back. He gave the guy another steady stare that didn’t seem to affect the other man very much at all.
Persephone didn’t look over her shoulder as she went inside and down the stairs to the basement. Kane waited until the door closed behind them, then another few minutes before he went down after them. Persephone’s apartment was down the hall from the storage space, and he conveniently needed to look for something that he’d packed away.
Fifteen minutes later, her door opened. The murmur of voices didn’t sound alarming, but Kane listened, anyway. When the sound of a single pair of footsteps moved away and her door closed, he came out of the storage space. Quickly and quietly, he followed the man up the stairs and through the lobby, but stopped short at the sight of Persephone’s mysterious visitor waiting for him on the sidewalk.
The other man grinned. “She has a good friend in you, I see.”
“According to her, we aren’t friends.”
“You shouldn’t let that deter you.” The man shrugged. “Miss Persephone is a wary soul, and I would say she has a right for caution.”
Kane studied the guy, assessing. “How well do you know her?”
“I don’t know her very well at all. I am not a rival for her affections, if that’s what worries you.” The man’s expression was smooth. Neutral. “I am not her friend, either. She’d be the first to tell you that. But I assure you, neither am I her enemy. I want only what’s best for Miss Persephone.”
“She’s in trouble,” Kane said flatly. “What kind?”
“I would think such a question might be best asked of her, not me. As for me, I must say goodbye. I have other appointments.” With that, the guy turned on his heel and stalked away down the sidewalk, looking neither left nor right and definitely not behind.
* * *
After that meeting, Kane had done more searching, but he wasn’t surprised to find nothing about Persephone’s mystery guest. Still, he couldn’
t shake the feeling something was very wrong about the whole situation, even though he believed the guy when he said he wasn’t interested in Persephone romantically and also that he wasn’t her enemy.
He had done more digging into the Collins Creek situation. All of it rumor or urban legend. Nothing concrete. He’d found no more photos of Persephone, but he had dug up a couple reports about the children who’d survived the raid. Some of them had allegedly been put into research facilities. A few others were reported to have grown up on the streets.
It made sense now. The sense of wariness she had about her. Her sharp wit. The way she could either stand out from everyone else around her or blend in so completely you’d never know she was there.
As for the rest of it, the allegations that the children of Collins Creek were all somehow like that chick from the Stephen King flick, the one where she offed everyone at the prom—none of that seemed believable, though he could absolutely believe the cult leaders had thought it was possible.
He had no intention of mentioning any of this to her, of course, except that he did want to tell her that he would be there for her if that guy who’d been waiting for her was indeed going to bring her some kind of harm, even if it was just the painful kind of being reminded of things she’d rather not think about. She’d laugh or mock him; she might even get a little put out by what Kane knew was going to come off as patronizing. He didn’t care. He wanted her to know that he would be there to protect her, if she needed it.
As it turned out, he was too late.
Chapter 8
Since Vadim had shown up on her doorstep, Persephone had been lying low. She ventured out of her apartment only to take care of repairs, but beyond that she’d been holed up doing nothing but binge watching television shows. She’d even sprung the extra few bucks for grocery delivery so she wouldn’t have to go out.