Deadly Game

Chapter 13

Mari would not cry. She would never give Peter Whitney the satisfaction. She heard Sean's swift intake of breath and knew he was looking at the marks on the insides of her thighs and breasts, virtually all over her body. Could it be any more humiliating? Cami was still in the room. They were all staring at her. She could hear the whir of the camera and the distinct click as the doctor took photographic evidence. It was like a vile pornographic film with her as the star.

"Are those teeth marks?" Sean burst out. "The bastard attacked her."

"Sean, if you cannot simply observe in silence, call in another guard," Whitney snapped. "Men display sexual passion in all sorts of ways. This is an interesting puzzle. Now stay quiet so I can process."

Cami touched Man's hand in an effort to comfort her. A fresh flood of tears burned behind Mari's eyelids, and she struggled to hold back, to keep her face composed when she needed to go to pieces.

"I think we can dispense with Camellia's presence. Take her back to her room." There was an edge to Whitney's voice, as if his patience had worn thin.

The doctor began talking into his recorder, a slow and thorough description of every inch of her body. It was a dispassionate, clinical narrative that only served to make the situation seem worse.

She felt breath along her neck, a whisper of a touch against her throat. Screw them, Mari. Think about me. Think about us. I can take you far away from that room and those dirty old men. It's probably the only way they can get off, having a woman tied down and exposed to them that way. You're so beautiful they're too afraid to touch you, which is a damn good thing right now. I'd have to kill them and that means blowing the big plan. Now, if I tied you down, I wouldn't be sounding like a dead reptile, I'd be so fucking hot I'd probably disgrace myself. And I probably shouldn't have used the word blow. Hell, woman, I can't even think about you without getting the hard-on from hell.

Ken's voice slid into her mind, a teasing whisper that made her want to laugh.

She struggled to keep the energy only on one single path, away from all the others, but even if they detected it, they would suspect she was communicating with the other women. Can you really take me away from this room while they're doing this?

Ken rested his head on his arm. What could he give her to hang on to while Whitney and his pathetic doctor tortured her? There would be a reckoning, but it wasn't going to be today. Their team had to be in place. Now that they'd uncovered the devil's lair, they had to come up with a plan to get the women out alive. Whitney wouldn't hesitate to kill them and destroy all evidence of his research. Ken had no doubt that the entire compound was wired to blow should they be discovered.

Ken? Her voice was unsteady. His anger was beating at her. pounding in her head the way it was pounding in his.

Sorry, baby, I just focused a little too much on your situation.

They couldn't just go in there with guns blazing-but Peter Whitney, in spite of everything that Lily had said, needed to die. He couldn't be allowed to continue with his vile experiments. He could only imagine how Mari felt. This place had been her home, that man her only steady guide, and yet she was treated the way Ekabela had treated him. Stripping him naked, dehumanizing him, stripping him of pride and decency and reducing him to less than an animal.

Mari smelled the jungle, felt heat and humidity, raindrops on her skin. The sensation was vivid, so much so that she heard the cry of a monkey and the persistent call of birds. She kept her eyes closed, knowing she was seeing a memory of Ken's inadvertently triggered by what she was feeling. The smell of blood assailed her nostrils and she tasted the coppery flavor in her mouth. A face was there, a man with the same dead eyes as Peter Whitney, and the knife in his hand was covered with blood. Ken was stretched out, tied so tightly the thin wires cut into his skin.

Mari hadn't noticed if he had scars on his wrists and ankles, but with this small glimpse into his past, she was certain he had them. Why hadn't she noticed something that important?

Baby. He whispered the endearment like a physical caress. You couldn't notice with all the other scars. I'm sorry I took you there. It was an accident.

I know that. I wish I could touch you-comfort you. Because beside the things he'd endured, Peter Whitney's humiliating punishments were child's play. And this was a form of punishment even more than a collecting of documentation for Whitney. She had left the compound without permission, and this was the one thing he knew she hated. But he wasn't crouching in front of her, dispassionately slicing a razor-sharp blade through her skin while others gathered around laughing and urging him on.

Woman, I'm supposed to be comforting you, not sharing memories.

The memory steadied me. I can get through this. I hated the idea of him seeing the marks you made on my body and knowing how you put them there. I thought it would turn something special to me into something altogether different, but I'm proud of the marks you put there. Screw Whitney. He isn't going to take you away from me.

Again she felt the brush of his fingers along her neck, as if he stroked her like a kitten. Good for you. That man can't take away anything we did or have together. He's nothing, Mari, nothing at all. I'm with you. Right here. He can't separate us now, no matter how much he wants to. I took you to the jungle, and I can take you somewhere much better. But, sweetheart, I've got to be able to picture you with clothes on. You're killing me here.

Again she wanted to laugh and had to keep her expression exactly the same. It took discipline, but she managed. She couldn't believe that he would make her want to smile when she was exposed and vulnerable and Whitney and his doctor were dissecting her like a bug-well, maybe not dissecting her. Ken had been dissected, cut into little pieces, stripped of his dignity and then the skin on his back. She couldn't imagine the pain or the rage or the utter hopelessness. That was the worst to her-the despair one felt when totally helpless.

Whitney was a madman. It had taken her years to admit it fully-for all of them to admit it-because they were totally dependent on him for everything. They had no real contact with the outside world and nowhere to go to escape the endless demands and experiments. With the glimpse into Ken's past, she felt more connected to him, and the connection felt intimate. She clung to his mind, wanting him to keep her centered.

Sex is a big thing to you. She was glad it was-after all. they'd had great sex and she hoped to have even more-but on the other hand, she wanted to matter to him on more than that level.

Yeah, sex is a big deal as long as you're my partner. I haven't exactly had a lot of any other lately. I didn't think I could.

There was such raw honesty in his voice, she felt tears burning again and had to struggle not to betray herself. He didn't have to tell her that, but she could understand. He'd been so damaged, the slices everywhere, and when he was fully erect, it had to hurt. Is it painful?

There was a small silence and she found herself holding her breath. She knew he didn't want to answer, that he was weighing his words.

Ken sighed and stared up at the sky. He had known there would come a time he would have to explain it all to her-admit that it wasn't just his face revealing the monster, that Ekabela had brought that monster into every aspect of his life.

He damn well wasn't going to he to her-not with her stretched out on a table and some son of a bitch photographing the strawberries he'd put on her inner thighs.

You don't have to tell me.

It isn't that. I don't want you running away from me.

There was the impression of laughter. I'm tied up at the moment.

He sent her the impression of a groan. Don't say tied up. You know what happens to me the minute you say that. The things I could do to you-the way I could make you feel.

The laughter in his mind was like a caress, stroking through his body until he felt it everywhere-until he felt it in his soul. Nothing-no one-ever choked him up, but he found himself doing just that. Yes, there's pain, but in a good way. There isn't a lot of sensation as a rule, and when I'm full and ready, the skin stretches so tight pulling that it takes a lot to stimulate me. I'm rough and I have to be. The thing is, Man… He felt like a sick pervert. The last person she needed around her was him.

Just tell me. I'm not exactly a virgin here, Ken.

His hand knotted into a hard fist and he thumped the ground beside him. Yes, you are. You don't know the first thing about making love. Someone should be making love to you. Gentle, tender, slow, and easy. A man should treasure every moment with you, savor it and make certain you're screaming with pleasure. He wanted those things for her, desperately wanted them for her, and yet he would never be that man.

The impression of laughter came again. Like you did.

Ken frowned. She wasn't getting it. Not exactly like I did. I was too rough, Man. If you're with me, I would always be rough. I'd want things from you; I'd want you to learn to have the kind of sex I need, and that's not the best thing for you.

He felt like an idiot trying out each word in his mind before he sent it to her. What the hell could he say? He wanted to make her his sex slave? He did. Ever since he'd touched her skin, he'd wanted to do everything there was to her, bind her to him so no one else would ever do for her. He wouldn't mind tying her down and having her at his mercy. He could love her for hours.

He shoved his head into the palm of his hand. She was tied to a table, and he was thinking of how he could bring her such pleasure she'd drown in it. Maybe he was as sick as Whitney-or Ekabela.

Don't be ridiculous. No one is as sick as either of them. And I'd fantasize about what you'd do to me if you had me tied down-or better vet let you tell me yourself-but I'd get all hot and Whitney would know you're here with me. So no sex on the table and no thinking about tying me up. You can do that another time.

Again her soft laughter swept through him. Tears burned in his eyes and in the back of his throat. Damn her. She was killing him with her acceptance of him. He couldn't accept himself-how could she? He was going to fall in love with her. It was a long, hard fall and scary as hell. It didn't make sense and he didn't want it to happen. What the hell was she going to be getting out of the bargain?

Mari? It wasn't just sex.

Her heart accelerated. She knew Whitney would be puzzled over that spike, but Ken made her feel alive again in a way she hadn't in a long time. He gave her hope-and she needed hope right then.

If it wasn't just sex, what was it? Because I don't know what to think. None of the men paired with any of the women appear to feel emotional about them, other than possessive. They could care less whether or not we derive any pleasure from them touching us. What happened between us seemed more than something Whitney did, or was I reading more into it than there was?

She waited for his answer, her mouth suddenly dry. She barely felt the doctor's probing fingers as he poked at her. It seemed he spent more time examining the bruises and red marks on her skin than the gun wound or wrist break, but Ken's answer was more important than her modesty. She held her breath-waiting.

You know damn well it was much more. I'm not hiding anything from you, as much as I want to. Screw Whitney. He doesn't have anything to do with us anymore. Ken nibbed his hand over his face and sighed again. Maybe he did at first. Maybe his manipulation allowed you to accept me sexually when you might have been afraid of me.

Mari turned it over in her mind. Was that the truth? She'd wanted him-yes-but there was so much more to her feelings than that. The decision had definitely been hers and it hadn't been all about sex. So what was it that drew her emotionally to him? How had they connected so fast and so strong? I don't think so, Ken. I really don't. You're right. Whatever is between us isn't about Whitney.

He ached to hold her in his arms. I'm not a good man-I'm never going to be. You have to know that going into this. I wouldn't give you up once you belonged to me.

What does that mean, Ken? You don't know if you would be happy with me. Neither of us has any idea what the future would be like. I can't conceive of being out of this place. The idea is frightening. I wouldn't know the first thing about living in the real world. How can you possibly know what you would or wouldn't do if we were together.

Because you represent hope, Mari. I gave up my life a long time ago and everything that entailed, including sex. You handed it all back to me and I'm just not man enough to walk away from temptation.

Hope. Mari liked the word. And she liked the idea of being someone's hope. Maybe that's what their strange relationship was all about. Mari had never had hope-not even when she went out with her team to talk to the senator. Peter Whitney seemed so invincible. No one could ever defeat him, especially not Senator Freeman. He'd never bested Whitney in an argument. But Ken had somehow made her feel different. He'd given her a taste of freedom.

Ken swore in her ear. I'd never give you freedom. Mari, think about this, think about what I am. I'd be possessive and jealous and want you in my sight every minute of every day. I'd be terrified of losing you. And I'd want to touch you, eat you alive, kiss you endlessly, and take you whenever I wanted, which, by the way, would be all the time.

I told you not to talk that way. You'll get me hot. She tried not to flinch as the doctor touched her breast, supposedly to get a better angle with the camera, but his fingers lingered.

Ken froze, anger bursting through him like a volcano spilling lava. He could make it inside past all the security. He could make it inside and slit the doctor's throat and then go after Whitney. He was a GhostWalker and few could detect them, let alone stop them.

No. Calm down. Seriously, Ken, it's no big deal. Mari was lying. She hated this humiliation, but she tried to breathe through it and concentrate solely on him. As long as she was talking to him, she wasn't thinking about what they were doing to her. And if she didn't think about it. neither would he. Keep talking to me. I don't want you cutting throats. You're so violent.

He was a violent man. Didn't she understand that? He almost groaned in frustration. He couldn't change what or who he was-not even for her. He barely hung onto his sanity at times. His ugly childhood had shaped him, and his father had given him a dark legacy of jealousy coupled with a strong sex drive. Ekabela had added layers to the darkness and rage, so that it grew until it threatened to consume him. He had hidden it well, even from Jack, but it was there, crouching like a beast, waiting to destroy him and anyone who dared to love him.

And how could she really love him? He could tie her to him with sex, he knew he could, but how could she look at his face every day of her life and love him? How could she know what he was and still feel anything but fear and contempt for him?

Even my children would run from me, Mari, and I couldn't blame them. Was he actually feeling sorry for himself? Was he that pitiful when she was stretched out on an exam table? Damn him to hell for his selfishness. He wanted her with her laughter and her acceptance. He wanted her to love him in spite of the scars on his soul that showed so clearly on his body.

Now you re just being silly. A child would love you, Ken. You only think you don't show tenderness, but I feel it every time I touch your mind. You've shown me more respect and given me so much more than I ever had, and you can't know-how much that means. If I don't get out, I'll never regret being with you. Whitney can take a lot of things away from me, but he can't take what you gave me.

Okay. He was going to hell. That's all there was to it. Because he wasn't going to be noble and give her up. No way. How could the universe hand him someone so perfect and then expect him to give her back? She had enough tolerance and compassion, and enough courage, for both of them.

She knew how to love. How had she learned to love when it was never given to her? Briefly, he'd had his mother and always he'd had Jack, but Mari's twin had been taken from her and Mari had been raised without her sister in cold, stark, laboratory conditions. She humbled him with her ability to give such unconditional acceptance.

He felt her mind jerk away from his, suddenly aware of the doctor probing her most intimate parts. He could feel the disgust and humiliation rising, the utter distaste as the man probed deeper and moved his hand inside of her. Abruptly she tried to cut Ken off, doing her best to shield him from what was happening to her. Bile rose in his throat. The one person he should be able to protect-and he had to lie still covered in leaves and twigs, and let them torture her. He gave her the only thing he could, although it cost him a great deal of what was left of his pride.

I'm already halfway in love with you, Mari. Maybe more way more than halfway, and it's damned hard to admit. I want to do right by you, not take you out of the sun and bring you down to an entirely new level, but I'm not man enough to get you out of there and then just walk away. I'm damn well going to take you with me.

She was weeping inside. Weeping. He could feel it like a knife going through his heart. He rested his head on his arm. He was a few feet from a guard, and the man hadn't moved in the last half hour. He was sitting on a rock reading a book. He hadn't looked up or around him and had no idea that Ken lay within striking distance and that right now, every emotion was slowly being driven out of Ken so he would feeling nothing at all when he went after his prey.

I want to go with you. I'm just being a baby, so don't get upset. I can feel you pulling away from me. Women are emotional at times, that's all.

That's not fucking all, Mari That bastard has his hand inside of you and he isn't going to live out the day. Who the hell does Whitney think he is, subjecting you to this kind of crap? And what kind of man is your friend Sean to allow it to go on?

Sean used to always stand with us. He helped me get out to see the senator, but now he seems different. I don't know how he is. or why. but he's doing and saying things that aren't him.

Whitney somehow got to him. Don't trust him. Man.

I don't. Are you okay now?

Don't fucking ask me if I'm okay when that bastard is touching you. I should be asking you, but I don't have to-I know you're not.

He's touching me in a completely impersonal, medical way. Mari tried to soothe him by lying, biting down on her lip, hoping the doctor would hurry his examination. Prauder was a pervert. He always took great delight in touching the women as intimately as possible, of photographing them in the worst positions, knowing there was nothing they could do about it. They all tried to pretend it was impersonal, because it was the only way they could live through it.

Ken, you have to be close to the laboratory for us to be able to communicate and that means you're near guards. You can't get upset and blow this. I'm counting on you.

Ken took a breath and willed a higher power to give him strength and control to hold out. If she could stand it-then so could he. There was sweat on his brow, and he allowed it to trickle down his face rather than move. Ants crawled over him. He stayed still and just let the air move in and out of his lungs. Night was falling, and always-always-the night belonged to the GhostWalkers.

Ken?

I'm here with you, baby. I had a brief meltdown but I'm back on track. Does the doctor live in the compound?

Everyone here does. Most of the soldiers live in the outer barracks. Whitney's men have their own section. It's closest to the small cottages. Whitney's staff live in those houses, separate from the rest of us.

And where are you, Mari?

We used to have our own barracks, but with the new program we've been moved to the center of the laboratory underground, where he has bars on the doors. We're always on lockdown and they try to keep us apart.

Do all of the women have telepathy?

I'm strong and so is Cami. We can build and hold a bridge between all the women, so we plan when we're locked in our rooms.

How many have to get out?

There are five of us, but we have a plan. We can get rid of the bars on the doors, we think. We haven't dared to test yet, but if we can, we'll go out through the south-facing doors. It's easier to move through the laboratory; there's a little less security because the cameras are angled wrong. Once we make it to the surface we can head for the electric fence that's about two miles from us. The woods are dense and there's water. They have dogs, but a couple of the women can control them. Don't do anything until we're ready. I won't leave anyone behind.

Well you make certain they're ready to go, because when I come to get you, you'll be coming out with me one way or another.

Mari opened her eyes and stared up at the bright light, trying not to smile again. He had that edgy command in his voice, the one that brooked no argument, the one that said he was the boss and she'd better damn well fall in line. He made her heart beat faster and her blood rush through her veins. Her temperature went up a couple of degrees every time he pulled the caveman routine. She liked him worried and edgy and ready to tear down the laboratory to get to her-and that told how far gone she was.

"Very good, Mari," Dr. Prauder said. "We're finished." He signaled Sean, and the guard came forward and removed the straps from her arms and legs and handed her the gown.

She refused to look at him. They're taking me back to my room. Thank you, Ken. I don't know what I would have done without you to distract me.

Ken wiped the sweat from his face. She would have endured. She knew it and he knew it-because when you were in the hands of a madman, you resisted as little as possible and waited for that one moment to strike or run. Endurance was all you had.

What is the doctor's name and what does he look like? Even as he lay under cover of bushes and grass, he'd seen half a dozen men in lab coats walking in and out of the facility.

Prauder. He's Whitney's chief doctor. The man's a worm. I'm not entirely certain he's human. He acts more like a robot. Mari pulled her gown around her and went back toward the alcove.

"What are you doing?" Sean asked.

"Getting dressed. I don't feel like parading through the halls with this hospital gown on. I need my clothes."

Sean glanced at Whitney and then shook his head. "We need to sweep them for tracking devices."

She wanted Ken's shirt. It was stupid, but she wanted it. She didn't even glance at the alcove or at Sean. "I'm not walking down the hall in this stupid getup."

I want a description of Prauder. Ken's voice was insistent.

Mari was proud of herself for using telepathic communication without Whitney or Sean realizing it, both right there where they should have been able to detect it. But now that she was sitting up, facing them, she was afraid she might make a mistake. She took a breath and let it out. He's short and skinny, balding with a small goatee. She kept it short and succinct.

Ken could feel her nervousness and her reluctance to continue their conversation. All right, baby, do whatever you have to do and contact me when you're alone again.

Mari didn't reply, but she was grateful that he let her know he was going to be within her mind's reach. She snapped her fingers. "At least get me another gown, Sean. I'm not walking in front of you half-naked."

Sean muttered something under his breath, but jerked another gown from a shelf under the table and tossed it to her.

Mari caught it and shrugged into it, wrapping it around her back. She never once glanced up at Whitney, but she could feel him there, watching every move she made. She made herself walk out of the room with her shoulders straight and her chin up. Whitney hadn't broken her, thanks to Ken, not even when she'd been at her most vulnerable. She resisted throwing Whitney a triumphant smirk, because he'd retaliate with something else and she didn't have the time to devote to their usual battle. Let him put her lack of resistance down to being shot.

She would have given anything to be able to read his mind. Did he think being a prisoner had been a terrible experience? Did he think Ken had forced himself on her? The evidence on her body certainly might substantiate that theory. Whitney knew Ken was paired with her-that she would be sexually attracted to him-but that didn't mean she necessarily had given in to the temptation.

She knew Whitney. The question would eat away at him. If he even had any doubt at all, he wouldn't be able to let go of it until he knew the answer. It was one of his greatest weaknesses and she often used it against him. He needed answers. If she could pose a simple question, it would drive him insane until he figured out the answer. And he would want to know-no, need to know-if Ken had forced himself on her.

Sean paced along behind her and she could feel his temper smoldering. He had seen every mark on her body. She kept walking, back ramrod straight, until she reached her own room. It was small, a cell really, with a heavy steel door.

"Did he hurt you?" Sean glanced at the camera in the hallway and turned, so that when he spoke, it was impossible to see his mouth move.

"I'm not going to discuss it with you, Sean. You weren't concerned before; there's no need to be now," she said, deliberately stiff, standing in the doorway. She hoped Whitney was listening or watching. If he'd primed Sean to get information, she wasn't giving anything away.

"I know you're angry with me…"

"You think? You've been an ass. What's wrong with you anyway?"

A buzzer sounded and Sean grimaced. "We'll have to talk about this later. You need to get in your room. It's lockdown."

She stood there, hating that he had turned on them all. He'd been one of them, trained with them, been a good friend. "What did Whitney do to you? What's he doing to the other men? It's him, isn't it? He's still experimenting and using you all as guinea pigs too."

"Move back, Mari." Sean insisted, raising his gun slightly, the smallest of warnings, but it was there. He kept a safe distance from her, watching her with wary eyes that would never miss so much as a twitch of her body.

Marigold took a step back, deliberately reluctant, never taking her gaze from Sean. He had always been one of the best at everything. There were no mistakes with Sean, none of the small breaches that would allow the possibility of exploiting weakness. Sean never let down his guard, and he was enhanced, every bit as strong and well trained as she was. More importantly, he was psychically enhanced. She'd tested his mind repeatedly and his shields were strong-impossible to penetrate. Going up against Sean was a losing proposition, but she didn't mind taunting him. Again she stopped, just out of the doorway, daring him to take action.

She was so angry with him for giving in, for allowing Whitney to use him when he saw what it did to the others-and she was certain she was right. Whitney had to be raising the testosterone levels in the men, doing something to make them more aggressive.

Sean shook his head. "You always have to push it, don't you?"

"Would you want to live like a prisoner your entire life?" She waved her hand to encompass the entire compound, watching the way his gaze jumped to the graceful movement. "I'll bet no one tells you when to go to bed at night, or what books you can read. There's not a camera in your room, is there. Sean?"

He stepped closer. "Get in your room. Lockdown's in three minutes." Even as he moved, he inhaled deeply.

Her heart jumped. She saw the flare of heat in his eyes. Adrenaline surged and for a moment she couldn't breathe. "You let them pair us." It was an accusation, her voice strangled, a shimmering fission of fear slidding down her spine. Why hadn't she suspected? It hadn't occurred to her that Sean would ever volunteer for the breeding program-not when he knew all the women objected strenuously and were forced to cooperate.

"You're the best choice. Mari." he said, tone practical even when his eyes moved over her possessively. "You're a strong psychic and so am I. Our children would be extraordinary." He lowered his voice and turned away from the camera so there was no possibility of lipreading. "I've always been attracted to you, ever since I first saw you, and you aren't an anchor and I am. I doubt any of the other men could handle your abilities. I don't think Whitney has a clue what you can or can't do."

Her mouth went dry. She forced her suddenly damp palm to remain still when she wanted to rub it up and down her thigh in agitation. Sean saw too much. He'd always been the guard she'd most feared. They had trained in hand-to-hand, and he could always, always, best her. Few of the guards could, even though she was so much smaller.

"And you don't mind Whitney experimenting on your child?" she challenged.

He studied her face for a long time before answering, his gaze once again shifting toward the camera. "Our child will be born to greatness." He used his chin to indicate the room. "Get inside now."

"I won't accept you, Sean," she warned. "I'm not going to give him another child to torture."

"I know that. I knew it when I made the decision. But I'm not standing by and watching some other man father your child. You'll accept me one way or another."

She stepped back inside the small cell that had been her home for these last few months. "I had so much respect for you, Sean. You were one of the few I did respect, but you're willing to become a monster in order to please the puppet master." She shook her head, sorrow shooting through her. "What about Brett?"

A flash of disgust crossed his face. He stepped forward, one hand sliding down her face, touching the bruises there. "He didn't get the job done, did he?"

Her stomach churned, a violent protest, but she stood her ground. "So you're taking his place? You think you can force me to conceive so Whitney can have another toy to play with?" She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "What happened, Sean? I thought you were one of us."

She knew the moment her breath wanned his skin that she'd made a terrible mistake. Whitney and his experiments with pheromones, along with pushing up the testosterone levels in the males, had created a dangerous, very explosive situation. He wanted aggressive soldiers and if he succeeded, he wanted children from those soldiers.

Sean reacted instantly to her scent, to the close proximity of her body. He wrapped his fingers around the nape of her neck and dragged her the scant inches separating them, his mouth coming down hard on hers. The cold metal of the rifle dug into her flesh as his fingertips dug into her skin.

She twisted her head out of the way, hands catching the rifle and jerking as her knee came up between his legs hard. Sean yanked her backward, off balance, spinning to the side to avoid her knee, whirling her around as he did so, his arm sliding beneath her chin in a choke hold.

Mari kept going, using her weight and momentum to put pressure on his arm, bending it away from her neck to try to get leverage against him. He had been trained in the same school as she had. and he was bigger and stronger. He knew exactly what her reaction would be and he was prepared for it. He wrapped his arm tighter and exerted pressure, succeeding in getting her in a headlock. Mari turned her head and bit him hard in the ribs, at the same time driving her thumb into the pressure point at the back of his knee. His leg buckled and he swore, folding in half quickly to keep from going down, dragging her with him. refusing to let go.

They ended up sprawled on the floor. Mari breathing hard, trying to ignore the pain shooting through her at the awkward position.

"Stop it, Mari," he hissed. "I'm not turning into another Brett." He leaned his weight on her. pinning her down.

She gathered her strength and was preparing to push him off of her. when the hall filled to a choking point with dark malevolence. The floor beneath them rippled and the walls around them undulated. Mari knew that presence and went very still beneath Sean, her heart pounding so hard she was afraid it might shatter. She knew that scent. That aura. The scent of his cunning malevolence. There was only one man that could make her stomach churn with such bile. Brett was coming.

"Sean." She whispered the name in despair. Sean had been a good friend and now he had betrayed her. Brett was coming, and if he touched her. she would never be able to stop from silently screaming, from spilling out waves of energy at the revulsion she felt at his touch, and Ken would know, and he would come, and the escape she had so carefully planned with the other women would be impossible.

Sean moved fast, faster than she imagined possible, leaping to his feet, yanking her up, and thrusting her into her cell with one hand, while he slammed his palm against the lock with the other. The heavy metal door slid closed with a terrible clang, leaving her in shock, helpless to do anything but watch as the two men circled each another.