Summer's Rule

Summer’s Rule

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Summer’s Rule By Jaye Patrick

Summer’s Rule

Copyright © 2006 Jaye Patrick All rights reserved Second electronic publication September 2009 Author’s note: This e-book is not intended for sale and is not to be used to generate profits in any form. Readers have the author’s permission to copy and distribute freely for non-profit purposes.

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Prologue 1987 “Mommy, Winter’s hot.” Jennifer Ann Porter turned from her scan of the early morning market and crouched down before her two little girls. Summer, with eyes as blue as the hot tropical sky above and hair as dark as the jungle at night - so like her father; and Winter, pure jade green eyes that glowed and sunset auburn hair, a miniature version of herself. Both children wore dark blue shorts and grubby, grey – once white - t-shirts. Their skinny limbs showed scratches and bruises from the charge through the jungle to reach safety. Her girls; her precious twins, still game, still unaware of the peril she’d placed them in. She brushed the curls back from each dirt-smeared face. A brief smile touched her mouth, then faded. Persistent doubts, dark regrets and feardriven determination swirled inside her. “It’s okay, Mommy.” Summer leaned into her shoulder. Winter leaned in on the other side and she wrapped her arms around her children. “I understand. Winter does, too. You don’t want the bad men to find us.” Tears clogged her throat as she felt Winter nod against her shoulder. “I know you understand, and I wish it could be different.” She whispered into Summer’s ear. The scent of little girl, loamy soil and hot, damp jungle, the sounds of the market, chattering monkeys and cry of birds soothed her mind. She had no choice in this, not if her family were to survive. No choice at all. “But you’ll come for us.” Winter said with confidence. “When you’re safe. And Daddy, too. You’ll come for us no matter where we are.” If only it were true. But she had to hide her thoughts, bury them deep. Jennifer was well-practiced in that. She couldn’t allow any hint of darkness colour her thoughts. “Of course.” She assured them both and sent a desperate prayer skyward. “But first, I must get you to America.” Jennifer eased back. “You remember all the stories I told you?” “Hot dogs,” Winter murmured and her small hands slid away from Jennifer, “and baseball.”

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Jennifer saw the shimmer of air above Winter’s fingers and used her body to block the view of the market as a child-sized grey ball appeared in Winter’s grasp. Pride in Winter’s talent bloomed, but it was edged with caution. “Winter, honey, you can’t let ordinary people see what you can do, remember?” Mutinous jade eyes looked into hers. “Won’t they like me anymore? I can make all sorts of stuff. Those doctors were happy when I made stuff for them.” “Those men were...” She paused. How did you explain to a six-year-old that the doctors didn’t ask to be friendly? “People who aren’t doctors won’t understand.” Jennifer suppressed a flicker of annoyance. Winter could be as stubborn as, well, her, even after the discussion they’d had back at the compound about being ‘different’. “Just...” She drew in a calming breath. “Just keep it between you and Summer, for a while.” She brushed her fingers down the soft skin of Winter’s cheek. “Okay?” Winter nodded and hung her head. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I only wanted to play. Pretend we were there already.” “What about popcorn and football.” Summer smiled at her twin. Winter lifted a shoulder. “Um... fireworks and friends and puppies!” Summer began jumping up and down with excitement. “We could have puppies!” Winter’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Winter.” Jennifer warned and the girl looked away. She gave Summer a glare, too, put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder to still her movements. She had no doubt Summer had given Winter an image of the exact type of puppy she wanted. Jennifer didn’t know if Winter could make a living thing - the scientists had focused on inanimate objects - and now was not the time to find out. John, she thought, was careless in cheering the girls up with tales of what ‘ordinary’ people had. She hadn’t stopped him because he cheered her, too, when the days were darkest. But she now his words were reckless in his portrayal of a lifestyle they’d never known, but longed for: an ordinary family, living in an ordinary house, with ordinary pets and going to ordinary jobs; of their kids going to a standard school, growing up and having standard issues. A pipedream one - she and John knew was beyond them and had no basis in reality.

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Summer pouted, then slung an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “We won’t have to live in a dark, dirty cell, but in a Princess room. No more men with guns or doctors who jab us with needles and ask all those questions.” “I wanna a knight’s room, like Daddy said King Arthur had, with armour and swords and feastin’ and drinkin’ and...” Winter turned to Jennifer, her expression brightening. “No more tests? Really?” Jennifer shook her head. “No more tests, no more horrible food, no more people yelling. You will be ordinary Americans. And when your father and I come for you, we’ll be a family again.” She turned away as the girls whispered to each other like coconspirators. Somewhere in this market, she’d find someone to take the children away from the oppressive, heated humidity of Thailand, away from the Cambodians, Thais and Americans who hunted them these long weeks; someone who would hide them in plain sight in the land of the free. She closed her eyes, her mind seeking a kind soul, a foreigner willing to care for the twins. She felt a bright glow link with her. Summer, boosting her thoughts and seeking with her and she allowed a brief, proud smile appear. The little girl was more powerful than anyone at the compound imagined. Winter, too, had skills just developing. When they reached adulthood, their genetic gifts would become ten, twenty more times powerful than they were now, as six-year-olds. They were the reason for their escape, for their flight into the night jungle. Jennifer could not allow any government control her offspring, even offspring forced upon her and John. Dear God, she missed him; longed for his strong arms about her, his wide chest to lean on. She wanted to hear his deep voice again, listen to his dreams and dry humour, lose herself in his blue, blue gaze. But he headed in another direction. By splitting up, they hoped one of them would remain free. Her mouth turned down. One day, when they were all free of government machinations and manipulations, they’d be a family again. She sensed three likely candidates, felt Summer follow her thoughts and riffle through their minds.

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“He seems nice.” Her daughter murmured, projecting the image of a dark-haired, brown-eyed man, “but he’s sad and a bit... hmmm... lost?” Jennifer opened her eyes and smiled at her talented children. “Why don’t we go see if we can’t cheer him up?”

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Chapter One 2006 “I have a job for you.” Colonel Aiden Cosgrove said. Captain Duncan Duquesne glanced at his partner, Lieutenant Justin Beech, with dismay and wondered what they’d done to deserve this. Cosgrove glared. “I know you’ve only been back from North Korea for thirty-six hours, but this is more important than you lot goofing off for a couple of days.” Duncan kept his expression blank as he stared at his commanding officer. Visions of a week basking in the sunshine with a frosty beer and a couple of oiled, semi-naked female companions blinked off in an instant. “Sir. What’s our objective?” Duncan asked with a frown. Colonel Cosgrove eased back, displeasure written on his homely face. Lines around his mouth and eyes deepened. He drummed his fingers on a buff folder. Cosgrove’s grey eyebrows beetled into a scowl. His winter green gaze flicked from Duncan to Justin. “A rescue mission, Captain. I know it’s not your usual covert operation, but your teams are the only ones currently available. You will go in, find the targets and get out; all without causing a ruckus and without being seen.” Duncan glanced at his partner and raised his eyebrows. Covert ops were their specialty. Why did the Colonel emphasise it now? Justin shuffled his feet. “Sir, I know I speak for my men and they’ll be, er, grumpy at not being allowed to take their mandated furlough. I believe...” Cosgrove’s gaze turned Arctic, and Duncan winced. “Do you presume to tell me I know nothing about the activities of the men and women under my command?” Cosgrove bit out. “N… No, sir.” Justin replied a little pale. Cosgrove stared a little harder then relented and turned to Duncan. “As I said, this is of national importance, an issue of national security.”

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“Aren’t they…” Justin fell into a fit of coughing to cover his near miss. “Nice catch, Lieutenant Beech.” Cosgrove said with a sour smile. “However, the fact remains that success in this mission is paramount. If you fail, it’s not just people’s lives in jeopardy.” “Sir?” Duncan asked, drawing the Colonel’s gaze. Cosgrove sighed and tapped the buff folder again. “The mission, as it stands, is to rescue the daughters of James Wellesley Pocklington.” His smile twisted with disgust. “The Third.” “Sir, I didn’t know Sir James had children.” Duncan commented and eyed Justin’s outraged expression. He knew what his friend was thinking: the only reason to ‘rescue’ a man’s children was that he was doing something he shouldn’t be. Cosgrove sighed with exasperation. “If you would let me finish my briefing, without interruption, you might know a lot more!” “Sir.” Justin and Duncan said quietly. “All right then.” Cosgrove glared at them before resuming his briefing. “James Wellesley Pocklington the Third is a dual British-American citizen who traces his line back to Arthur Wellesley and beyond. For you, Lieutenant Beech, that’s the Duke of Wellington; the man who defeated Napoleon. “His family has a long and distinguished history in both the military and in business. The Pocklington side of the family, however, was never as wealthy, nor as distinguished. That is, until about fifteen years ago when Sir James emerged onto the business scene with a business acumen close to spooky. Every business deal fell his way. If there was a rival, somehow that rival withdrew or disappeared.” Duncan couldn’t see the connection, but kept his questions to himself. “Sir James has grown increasingly arrogant and egocentric.” Cosgrove continued. “His businesses are worth billions now, but make no mistake, he is no philanthropist. He hoards his assets like squirrels store nuts for winter. He is close to being the wealthiest man on Earth.” He cleared his throat and opened the folder on his desk.

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A very slim folder, Duncan thought. He had a bad feeling about the mission already, and he didn’t have any facts. Minimal information did not bode well for any mission, especially for a rescue. He focused on Cosgrove’s words and wondered how ugly it was going to get. “For your edification,” the Colonel indicated they should sit and Duncan gratefully sank into a stiff-backed visitor’s chair, “and because we don’t have time for you to do your own research, I’ll give you the highlights of historical background.” Cosgrove cleared his throat. “During the Second World War…” Duncan could imagine Justin rolling his eyes; his grand-pappy was full of war stories. Duncan found them fascinating, entertaining, chilling; Justin had heard them too often to be enamoured anymore. Duncan tilted his head to listen. “…it wasn’t known of course until after the war what had been going on and the US Government tried to cover it up by... convicting those involved of war crimes and hanging them. Some, however, were spared, not because of any altruistic compassion, but because they were too valuable to our own national security and it would have been wrong to simply… er, exterminate them, especially the children.” Duncan sat up at that and turned to Justin, he was just as wide-eyed. “The genetically altered prisoners from World War Two eventually had children of their own and those children became extremely active and effective in covert operations during the Vietnam War. I can’t go into what types of missions, but they shortened the war and saved a hell of a lot of lives, especially during Tet.” Cosgrove tugged at one ear, a sure sign to Duncan that the next subject was an uncomfortable one for the Colonel. “Unfortunately, two of those operatives disappeared in Cambodia right before the fall of Saigon. Covert-ops kept an eye out for them, but heard nothing to indicate their whereabouts. With the NVA and Vietcong now in charge, our spies were at risk and couldn’t find anything no matter how hard they tried; worse, there was nothing we could do to help them and our network collapsed.” Ghosts haunted the Colonel’s gaze, but Duncan didn’t ask; he already knew of the horror stories, of the purges and slaughter.

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“We lost those two operatives and listed Jennifer Ann Porter and John McCafferty as killed in action.” The Colonel said quietly. Then he shook off his memories and continued with a glare. “Fast forward a few years and talk is heard in border villages between Cambodia and Thailand of ‘magical beings’ able to do amazing things.” Cosgrove lifted an eyebrow. “As you can understand, both the Cambodians and Thais were reluctant to initiate an investigation based on the ramblings of superstitious villagers. But the rumours persisted and then there was word of... a fire-fight near the border town of Paoy Pet. Again the local authorities refused to investigate.” Cosgrove leaned forward, rested his forearms on the desktop. “Now, I’m sure you’re confused as to what this has to do with the U.S. Government.” Duncan nodded but didn’t speak. Justin, he saw when he glanced over, looked fit to bust a seam, but kept quiet. “Well, all I’m going to say,” Cosgrove continued, “is that certain ‘offices’ of this government have a lot to answer for. Long term plans for national security are involved. The suspected connection is this: Less than two weeks following the alleged altercation, Pocklington is in Bangkok, on his so-called ‘tour’. He’s talking to various businesses in an effort to get something started, an export/import business. Since he has no idea of how to deal with international businesses, especially Eastern businesses, he’s not meeting with much success.” He opened the thin file. “According to local sources who keep an eye on Westerners, he set up a meeting with more... unsavoury businessmen at a local market; a meeting he failed to show up at.” His fingers plucked out a grainy, black and white photograph and slid it across the desk. Duncan picked it up and Justin leaned in to look. A tall, black haired man, with a disgusted expression, stared down at two little girls. Each girl held the hand of an older woman with her back to the camera, but her face was turned in profile, as if searching the crowd. “Instead, he meets with this woman, positively identified by the CIA as… Jennifer Ann Porter.” Duncan’s eyebrows rose and he handed the photo back.

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“No further sign of Porter has been found, but the children went with Pocklington. What you need to know about Pocklington, is that he’s a business failure. His original businesses here went bankrupt, were sold off, or subject to take over. He was, by his parents words, useless at it. He was convinced to take a holiday, went to Thailand and toured the East. Then he returns, with the two children who have seemingly legitimate American passports. He settles into the Wall Street community and gets down to business. Those dealings became successful, he makes buckets of money and he gets the backing of certain Representatives to buy Patriot’s Fort in the Smokey Mountains National Park, Tennessee, where he now lives with the two girls and a small army of staff.” Duncan nodded automatically, tried to sort out all the information, the fact from fiction and failed. Cosgrove reached to the side of his desk for a carafe of water. He poured the liquid and drained the glass. “At a meeting some six months ago in New York, Sir James told a business rival that there was no way he, the rival, was going to get control of any of his, Pocklington’s, businesses, subsidiaries or otherwise, because his girls wouldn’t allow it. When questioned by the rival, Sir James, demurred and said he usually kept the children out of the public eye and secret, to avoid kidnap attempts and to give them as normal a life a possible, and that it wasn’t any of his, the rival’s, business.” The Colonel huffed out a breath. “Questions?” He barked, clearly not wanting any. Duncan firmed his mouth as Justin raised a finger. “Are you suggesting that Pocklington has two natural-born, genetically-enhanced children?” Cosgrove rolled his neck as if to ease the tension there. “Pocklington has a business acumen outside of his normal personality, Lieutenant.” He tapped the folder again. “The timeline fits for the escape of a number of... people... from a secured facility in Cambodia, Pocklington’s travel within Thailand, his exit with two minors and his sudden rise to business power.” Duncan heard the disgust in the Colonel’s voice and thought he understood. He’d heard the stories about prisoners of war and the conditions they were kept in, the starva-

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tion, the brutality... but he failed to see why the rescued children needed ‘rescuing’ again. So he asked. Duncan raised a finger. “Why is it so important that the daughters be removed from Pocklington’s custody? What is it exactly they can do? What kind of genetic alteration are we looking at?” Cosgrove raised an eyebrow. “First, these two are no relation to Pocklington. His family have no connection to any of the Nazi laboratories or anything else to do with the Cambodian project. Second, I believe from unimpeachable sources that the Talents could do a number of things, from read minds, to moving objects, to creating objects out of whatever material was around them to disappearing in plain sight. You can imagine how disturbing that would be. Third, the records of what, exact genetic manipulation were originally done, and to whom, have… disappeared, as you’d expect after all this time. They are probably in some deep, dark dungeon somewhere, but that is not your concern.” “We don’t know what these children can allegedly do?” Duncan asked. Cosgrove’s eyebrows rose. “There is no ‘alleged’ about it, Captain Duquesne. We are almost certain these two are the children of Jennifer Ann Porter, who could hide in plain sight, who could read minds. What we don’t know is who the father is, and so don’t know what he could do. Two genetically-enhanced people having children, Captain, who are themselves the children of… ” He shook his head. “If the enhanced genes are dominant, inheritable traits, each generation is more powerful than the last.” Duncan kept his expression cool and professional; didn’t betray his scepticism. Calling his commanding Colonel a liar would not be a good move for his career, but what he was suggesting bordered on science fiction. The technology couldn’t have existed during World War II or the Vietnam War; current medical research facilities were only now able to map the human genome. “We know from classified witness statements, the original children from the experiments grew into men and women of enormous power and influence. I’ll not name names, but operational and deployment plans were given to us by them. No, Captain Duquesne, the abilities of these… subjects, is beyond the normal human range and beyond doubt. We don’t know the exact talents of these two, but they are real; make no

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mistake about that. No-one can be as successful as Pocklington without inside knowledge of the businesses involved. And there is no trace of complicit behaviour within those organisations. When you go into the Fort, you’d better be ready for anything, because it’s pretty much guaranteed they’ll know your coming.” “How?” Justin frowned. Cosgrove glared at him. “Were you not listening to me, Lieutenant? Did I not say the range of talents can be from mind reading to moving objects, to creating things? Hell! There is no absolute record of what they can do, Lieutenant, only statements; that’s why I’ve got people searching for the records. Your job will be to get the girls, nothing more, and nothing less.” His scowl deepened. “Unless you can catch Sir James doing things he shouldn’t be, of course, then you can bring him in, too.” “Yes, sir.” Justin murmured doubtfully. “Good. I’m glad you understand.” He tapped another, thicker folder. “For the national security part. It is becoming clear that Sir James is increasingly unstable; where once he picked and chose his targets, he’s now got an agenda and is directly involved in defence contracts; aerospace, military and civilian contracts through subsidiaries, branch corporations and blind companies. And since he’s a powerful businessman, he’s involved Congressional representatives to facilitate his ambitions. However, since he’s manipulating these people, the suspicion is one of his daughters is a mind reader and can ‘suggest’ courses of action advantageous to Pocklington.” He nodded to both men. “We’ve been investigating Pocklington for some time because of his involvement in military industries. Should he gain control of too many defence contracts via his new found wizardry, he will become a direct threat to American security.” “Us, Sir?” Duncan asked. “This country does not encourage outside companies to fulfil defence contracts, Captain Duquesne, that way leads to increased espionage of our defensive and offensive systems. Yes, we do have people from other countries coming up with new weaponry, but as soon as it attracts our interest, we make sure no-one else is gonna get it. For Pocklington Industries to gain control of all – and I do mean all – possible companies that might vie for the contracts would be a disaster. He could leave this country defenceless, depending on his politics on any given day. He has the power, the influence and

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the money to accomplish anything he wanted to; and these young women will see to his final agenda no matter what it is.” “Like world domination?” Justin smirked. “How about just domination of America?” The Colonel replied bitterly. “How about controlling the borders, how about nuking anyone he chose?” “He couldn’t…” “Let me ask you this, Captain.” Cosgrove leaned back in his chair. “What would happen if Pocklington – who finds himself in control of our defence industries and all our weapons production - suddenly stopped producing those weapons? What would happen if he suddenly decided to sell our defence secrets to terrorists? What would happen if, with the flick of a finger, he launched a nuke at another country from a private silo we’ve yet to locate? What would happen if he could– and by all reports would – cause this nation to come to a halt? Who has the power to, say, crash Wall Street by selling off a massive chunk of shares or threaten to do so?” Duncan felt himself pale at the scenario, and the consequences. Justin, he saw, was equally pale and without any humour. “The country would not only be devastated, but ripe for an invasion, be open to terrorist groups, be at the mercy of more economically stable countries who could oppress us financially.” “Exactly.” Cosgrove nodded. “Now, I think you understand the importance of the mission.” “Sir,” Duncan said, “if what you say is true, that Pocklington is turning into a nutjob, wouldn’t those, er, women, see that and refuse to help him do it?” Cosgrove raised an eyebrow. “I guess that all depends on the brainwashing techniques he’s used on them. They’re home-schooled. He’s controlled them for… seventeen years minimum. That’s a long time for him to teach them, to raise them to do his bidding without question.” Justin blew out a breath. “And no photos.”

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“No photos,” Cosgrove nodded, ‘except the one I showed you. We can’t find any birth certificates, either, and the British Embassy denies issuing the passports.” “Sir? Isn’t what you’re asking of us illegal on US soil?” Duncan asked. “I thought the FBI or the Homeland Security Department handled security here.” “I suggest you read the Patriot Act, Captain.” Cosgrove gave him a look that dissuaded Duncan from pursuing the question. “This job has been given to us.” Duncan wondered if Colonel Cosgrove was hinting at ‘plausible deniability’ should they fail. He mentally shrugged. Pocklington sounded like the kind of man for whom the law meant little, but how far would he go with his protests? If the operation became public knowledge, Cosgrove would have no option but to deny any mission existed or risk outrage by the population – and Congress – for operating on American soil. Duncan didn’t want this job. Not only was it a black ops, but it was a career-suicide black op; the worst kind. But, he thought, I go where ordered. Justin shifted in his seat. “So what you’re saying, in essence, is that we are to go into a high-security Fort to rescue two people who a) don’t know they’re being rescued, b) may not want to be rescued and c) will do everything they can not to be rescued. Does that about sum it up? Sir?” He asked, just short of insubordination. Cosgrove tilted his head and allowed a slight smile. “In a nutshell.” He said. Justin shook his head. “Just so we’re clear.” He muttered. “Okay, then.” Cosgrove said briskly, “You’ll have all the information we’ve collated within an hour, so you can organise your mission from there.” “Deadline?” Duncan asked. “The Congressional Hearing into the Defence budget comes up in about six weeks. There is also the Armed Forces Committee, the Aerospace Funding Committee, the National Security Advisory Council meeting, the Joint Chiefs meeting… all within the next three months. So work your deadline into that.” Duncan felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach and the tightening of muscles across his shoulders. It usually meant disaster was heading their way.

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Colonel Cosgrove stood as did Justin. Duncan slowly got to his feet. Both men saluted. “Good hunting.” Cosgrove nodded and the two Special Forces soldiers marched out of the office. “I don’t know about you, Trio, but this mission has suckiness all over it.” Justin said as the door closed behind them. “Agreed, Sandy, but ours in not to question why… yadda, yadda.” He let out a long breath. “Let’s get the teams together and formulate some sort of a plan, because God knows, anything specific is going to go south.”

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Chapter Two “Ah, Summer, good, you’re here.” Sir James Wellesley Pocklington III smiled at her over the folders stacked on his broad and deep hand-made teak desk. His silver hair lay perfectly combed back off a broad forehead, and with a long, prominent nose, thin mouth with smile lines at the side and a jutting, pugnacious chin, she thought him still handsome. He was the epitome of a successful businessman in the hand-tailored dove grey suit, white shirt and grey tie. The warmth in his truffle-brown eyes welcomed her and she smiled back at him. “You wanted to see me, Father?” “Please, come in. Sit, sit.” He rose and came around the desk to sit in the right side visitor’s chair. Summer lowered herself into the left and James reached out to hold her hands. “How are your studies coming?” She pursed her lips. “Which part?” James expressed mock horror. “Why the paper on how the American political system interacts with corporate responsibilities, of course.” “Oh, that.” She withdrew her hands from his overly warm and damp one. “It should be filed in your computer. I completed it before starting on the list of probes you wanted me to do.” James leaned back, crossed his legs and smiled at her. “And how did that go?” He asked every day, as if she could zero in on anyone who thought about the names Pocklington Industries or James himself. It simply wasn’t possible no matter how much he encouraged her. She couldn’t listen to millions and pluck a thought out of a single head, she had to focus and he gave her the list of names with photographs to concentrate on. She could listen into the thoughts of anyone on the list. Distance made it difficult; a person on the other side of the world was out of the question. Still, she knew what he wanted.

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“We-ell,” she hedged, “There is some… interest… in you, but…” She didn’t quite know how to express what she saw. “But?” James prodded and Summer shrugged. “It’s not so much businesses… You asked me to keep an eye on Congresswoman Tremaine and after a spike of interest, she moved on to other concerns, the Health Bill, in particular. She’s wondering how to cut funding again.” James smirked, but said nothing. “Um, Admiral Cornish is setting up an armada to head to North Korea. He’s thinking to blockade them as soon as the UN gives the order. Ah, who else?” She thought back to the list. “Oh! I know! You came up for discussion in the White House again. The National Security Advisor is concerned about your tendering for more defence contracts. She’d like the one’s you already have reviewed.” “Hah!” James burst out. “She’ll have a hard time with that; those contracts are ironclad.” Summer tilted her head. “It’s more she wants them cancelled and all the other contracts brought under consideration for government oversight.” James’ face turned grim and his dark eyes narrowed. “Hmm. That would be… unfortunate. I’ve acted in good faith and the contracts already have government oversight.” Summer reached out and patted his hand. “I know, Father. I think it’s despicable that they think to cheat you. You’ve always acted fairly and with honour. They’re just jealous of your success.” “Thank you, sweetheart.” James smiled. “Of course, it would cost them dearly to cancel a contract, both in time, material and money. I don’t think they’ll go that far.” He paused, waited for her to go on. After a moment’s hesitation, she continued. “The last one is… difficult. And puzzling?” “How so, my dear?”

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“The Secretary of Defence. He’s given a briefing to General Beckett who then briefed a Colonel Cosgrove, Father.” She lowered her voice, as if fearing someone would overhear. “About us. I think he’s going to do something…” James sat up. “Us? Do something?” She nodded slowly. “Us, as in we Pocklingtons. The Secretary spoke with General Beckett and he agreed to ‘handle the Pocklington affair’. He then passed some folders to this Colonel Cosgrove. I don’t know him, nor where he works.” “Can you find out?” Summer closed her eyes and concentrated on the image she had of the Colonel’s face. “Office.” She murmured. “He’s in an office with a folder on his desk. He’s feeling… unhappy.” “What’s in the folder, Summer?” James’ voice was soft, cajoling. “Open the folder.” She whispered and gave Cosgrove a push with her mind. A smile quirked her lips. “Leave forms. Oh. He’s stamped the top one with ‘cancelled’. And the next one.” She opened her eyes and looked at her father. “He’s thinking it a shame that good men are denied well deserved rest by some ass…” She felt her skin flush and corrected her words. “By someone higher up in the chain of command for no good reason and that he really needs a drink, or a vacation.” Her mouth twitched. “Preferably both.” James frowned at her. “Nothing more?” Summer shrugged. “He’s very focussed on the task and his chastisement.” James patted her hand. “All right, then. Don’t worry about it, Summer, it’s probably nothing.” “Okay, Father.” “But it would be interesting, though,” he went on casually, “to keep an eye on this colonel. I’d like as much information as you can get.” “Why, if it’s nothing to worry about?” She asked with a slight frown. “I suspect their investigation of me and my businesses is about to reach a new level. But as I said, don’t worry; it’s nothing I can’t handle with a few well-placed phone calls and this Colonel Cosgrove is probably some Pentagon pencil-pusher given some busy

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work.” He leaned back in his chair and she could see by his expression, he was forming a strategy. Her father had forbidden her to look into his thoughts, and he considered it rude to intrude on family since she had nothing to fear from him. Summer mentally shrugged. It didn’t matter what he was thinking: He deserved the privacy of his thoughts; those who would try to bring him down did not. Fortunately, he had her by his side to stop the blatant grab for his assets. She’d do as he asked. She’d watch Cosgrove and the others on her list; make her father proud. “Okay, sweetie, best get back to your studies. I have a few calls to make.” He said, distracted. He rose from his chair and went behind his desk, lifted the handset and dialled a number. Summer stood and walked to the door. “General Beckett, please.” She heard her father say and smiled. *** “Okay, we’re here.” Duncan said in a low voice after the growling engine of the halftonne truck stopped. “Gear up.” Low cloud hung over the forested and mountainous area, obscuring the moon. Perfect. He heard the slide of metal on nylon as the men donned their equipment. He hoped weapons wouldn’t be necessary, but he and Justin planned for every contingency that might happen. Of course, no plan survived its’ execution. He pulled the night-vision goggles over his eyes and watched his men. When ready, each man gave the thumbs up signal. “You know your jobs.” Duncan said and green-tinted faces turned to him. “Eggs, sucking and grandmothers, sir.” Duncan lifted an eyebrow at the big African-American Sergeant, Jamahl ‘Java’ Sandoval, as the others snickered. “The target area is 2.3 klicks northwest of our current position, up the hill. You’ve all familiarised yourselves with the situation, so remember: we think they know we’re coming, but act as if they do. Dismount and good hunting.”

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He climbed out of the truck and ducked around the left side, waited for his men to line up behind him. The plan he and Justin came up with was simple: Alpha Squad, Duncan’s, would circle to the right of the castle; Beta Squad, Justin’s, would go left. They would enter the Fort from opposite sides and make their way though the complex, avoid or disable anyone unfortunate enough to get in their way. It was an ugly plan, but if one of the girls was a mind reader, nothing specific could be planned - she’d pick up on it. Duncan hoped all but the guards were asleep. At three a.m., it was a good bet. But just in case, each man would focus on a single picture he carried in his head. As long as none of them thought about the objective, Duncan and Justin agreed, they’d all be relatively safe from discovery. Relatively. Duncan shook his head. How much did he believe in these so called ‘talents’? Answer: not much. Until he saw it with his own eyes, it was all bullshit – the medical technology needed for such experiments was twenty-first century, not twentieth. No way could the Nazis have done this; no effing way. Both men knew well any perfect plan failed because of the one element that proved unpredictable: the enemy never did what you wanted, needed or expected them to do. The human element screwed up more missions than he cared to think about. All he, or any of them, could do was adapt as the situation demanded and plan for the best. Still, on the minute chance it was remotely true, he forced himself to concentrate on a snow field. He felt a tap on his lower back. They were ready. Duncan led them off. His squad fell into a light jog, each member monitoring the next for loose equipment and, most importantly, noise. Every soldier was dressed in black, including the weaponry, the webbing, boots, socks, face paint, everything, to blend in with the stygian night. Only the sounds of their movements would give them away to any posted guards. The mind reader was another matter and he kept his mind as blank as he could.

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They travelled light, with only handguns, silencers with spares, tranquilizers and coms. The object was to avoid killing anyone; to disable should they prove feisty. Each tranq dart would knock a large man out for six hours minimum. Plenty of time to find the targets and get the hell out, he thought. When the shadowed outline of the castle came into view, Duncan called a halt. His men formed a circle and crouched down. Using the lowlight flashlight, Duncan pulled out the diagram of the castle Colonel Cosgrove arranged for him. The Fort, a scaled-down version of Stirling Castle in Scotland, stood tall on the hill and overlooked a valley. Inside, however… that’s where things could go pear-shaped. Duncan thought now that Pocklington’s arrogance would bring him down. After all, if it was a replica, then the Colonel’s map of the interior would be accurate. It should be easy to find the girls and get them out of there. He pointed to each man and then the map, showed them where to go. At the castle wall, beneath a stone-built bridge, he turned to give each man the thumbs up as they passed. Six men in his team; six in Justin’s. Should be enough to get the job done. He tightened his mouth. Focus, damn it! He took a deep breath and eased it out. Duncan watched his men disappear: one pair up the side of the east wall near the socalled ‘King’s House’, another pair walked towards the far corner and vanished around it. He was certain the civilian security detachment were bored, tired, and distracted. Three o’clock was an evil time of the a.m., he grinned in the darkness, and he was just the man to make sure it got worse for the guards. Corporal Colin ‘Noddy’ Culver tossed the grappling hook over the stonework of the bridge, tugged on the line and turned his thumb up for a secure hold. Duncan rolled his shoulders, loosened his muscles, grasped the rope in his gloved hands, nodded once to his companion, and began to climb, hand-over-hand. He tried to

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keep his breath quiet as he reached the stone parapet. He crouched, waited for Noddy. Damp, chilled air brushed his heated and sweating skin. Fog curled like smoke over the bridge. Duncan slowly moved his eyes over the wooden, metal-studded door. Why would a man with Pocklington’s wealth not choose to have motion detectors or lights? It didn’t matter; they were absent and he cursed again as he fought to keep his mind filled with the snow field. Noddy squatted next to him, tapped his shoulder. Duncan led the way to the door in a crouching run. Noddy eased in front of him and held up a device for searching out electronic circuitry around the doorframe. While he waited, Duncan kept his eyes on the surrounds. It was quiet at this time of morning and the fog thickened, swirled snake-like through the forest. It didn’t hamper his vision, not with the nightscopes, but it was an eerie picture painted in green. Noddy tapped his shoulder. They were in. Duncan followed Noddy into a darkened square and the hair on the back of Duncan’s neck prickled to attention. Where were the spotlights, damn it, the security? Around him stone walls rose, but to the right, another gate beckoned, this one, according to his map, lead into the grounds proper and the buildings in which he’d find the two girls. Light came from high windows, but it was enough to see without help. He pulled off his night vision goggles. Noddy pulled his off, too and looked at Duncan over his shoulder. Duncan inclined his head to show Noddy should slowly advance. With tranq pistols drawn and cocked, both men advanced towards the inner gate. Snow, think of snow, he told himself. Big, white, fat flakes drifting down to settle on the ground. The inner gate was open and Duncan frowned. This kind of lax security just begged for intruders or screamed ‘trap’.

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Something is seriously wrong. He thought. But he couldn’t retreat without proof; all he could do was advance with caution. Duncan took one side of the gate; Noddy, the other, then he searched for the guards. Where the hell are they? Was the intel wrong? It wouldn’t be the first time someone screwed up. To the left, he saw a long, straight set of stairs and frowned. That wasn’t right, was it? He flashed on the map, and then went back to the snow. No, it wasn’t. The interior varied subtly from the original and he silently cursed. He tapped Noddy on the shoulder, pointed to the stairs. The man gave him the thumb’s up and jogged to the stairs, raced up, with Duncan following. Noddy did his thing with the door at the top and eased it open. Light streamed out and both men ducked inside. Ancient stands of armour lined the corridor with shiny splendour. An old, threadbare carpet ran the length of the hallway and portraits hung on the walls with military precision, glared down their noses at the antiques. Duncan and Noddy began searching the rooms, but they were as empty as they were ostentatious. The rooms were beautiful in an over-the-top, look-how-wealthy-I-am kind of way; but it struck him as wrong. Everything was antique British, as if James brought a piece of the homeland here; or, Duncan allowed, he was convincing himself he was worthy of these artefacts. Damn. Duncan thought. Caught again. Focus on the mission. Think only of snow. His senses tingled and he began to turn, but he knew it was too late. A mosquito sting pinched the back of his neck. He lifted a hand then black zeroed his vision.

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Chapter Three Summer leaned against the bars of the cell and studied the man, Captain Duncan Duquesne. He was obviously tall, even curled into a foetal position on the metal bunk. Fit, too, judging by the way his black t-shirt and pants adhered to his muscles. The black stain of camouflage paint partially covered his tanned skin, but couldn’t hide the solid jaw, high cheekbones, firm mouth and square chin. His eyebrows were as black as the paint he wore. The captured men had free run of their cells; no ropes or handcuffs here and since they were behind bars, securing the captives with rope or handcuffs seemed a little redundant. She’d never met a real military man before. How is he different from the civilian guards? How will he react to his capture and incarceration? What will he do? She wondered. Her thoughts vanished as the soldier rolled onto his back and sat up. Summer slid her hands up and down the iron bars and he turned towards her. Wow, those are the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. She smiled at him. “Hello.” His gaze was sharp, assessing, as it slid from the top of her long, curly seal-dark hair, lingered on her bright tropical shirt, then moved down to her snug blue jeans to the tips of her designer joggers. “Hello.” He replied and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. “Are you well?” She asked and held the bars at her arms’ reach. He tilted his head and studied her without expression. “Yes.” Heat flared across her skin as he kept looking at her, his intense gaze once more sweeping her body. “It’s impolite to barge into someone’s home without an invitation, you know.” She said to break the silence. He gave her a sour smile. “We knocked. Nobody answered.”

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His voice had a curious twang to it. As if he’d been born in a Southern State. “No, you didn’t.” She said. “You and you’re men climbed over the walls, snuck around hoping to disable the guards and take us from the only home we’ve known.” His gaze narrowed, dark blue eyes laser sharp. “Who are you?” “Summer.” His lip curled in a sneer. “That’s a season, not a name.” “Mmm.” She agreed. “But it’s my name nonetheless… Trio.” He blinked in surprise, then swept his gaze over her again, this time with more appreciation, with more… calculation. Summer could see the escape plan forming in his head, but she wouldn’t allow him the equipment he needed. The idea was laughable, but she’d let him keep his thoughts, let him keep to his plans and crush it when the time came. She watched with interest as he relaxed his features, hid the surprise, and carried on the conversation. “Under normal circumstances, I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but obviously, the situation is less than ideal. Where are my men?” Summer’s mouth twitched at the non-sequitor and closed her eyes. “Noddy, Java, Casper, Feral and Bulb are safe, well and comfortable.” Her eyes opened and her head jerked back with a gasp. Trio stood right in front of her, his hands above hers, his face barely inches from her own. She hadn’t heard him move. But she refused to let him intimidate her. Summer tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement of his sneakiness. “How do you know their names?” He asked softly. “I know a lot about your team.” She whispered, then cleared her throat. “You not only knew we were coming, but the who.” Summer nodded. He made her nervous after all, she realised; made her skin heat and her mouth dry out and made her heart beat faster. She stepped back from the bars, backed away from the cell bars to the opposite wall and leaned her shoulders against the cold sand-coloured stone. “Yes.” She said.

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“That’s not possible.” He dropped his hands. “Not possible. We were secure.” Summer tapped her temple. “Ah, bullshit. There’s no such thing as a mind reader!” Duncan barked. “It’s all crap, a trick. Someone set us up!” Summer’s mouth turned down. She hadn’t mentioned anything about mind reading. Was he guessing or did he know? “I meant, it’s all up here.” She tapped her temple again. “Why did you say ‘mind reader’?” But now he had mentioned it… Her father hadn’t forbidden her to demonstrate her talent, just keep him company while he sorted out the military hierarchy. It would mean delving deeper into Captain Duquesne’s mind, and by her own rule, searching for private thoughts was wrong. Yes, she skimmed surface thoughts, but that was more because people projected, didn’t guard their busy thinking. It was how she helped her father. If she dug deeper, she caught murkier and scarier thoughts, selfserving motivations, ego-driven emotions and thoughts to further cruel ambitions. This man felt different; cleaner and clearer. Not like the dark thoughts of businessmen and women her father wanted to know about. They felt tainted, smeared black with selfish ambitions and greed. The soldier tempted her, she decided, with his clarity of being and the well-formed muscles under the tight t-shirt. He knew who he was, what he was and was happy within himself. She wanted to know his thoughts, wanted to understand his motivations, to explore his inner processes and discover him. Summer thought she might even need to experience his uncomplicated emo…. “Hey!” Trio broke into her musings. “Are you listening to me?” She lifted her gaze to his. “No, I’m listening to me.” “What?” He asked, incredulous. “I said: I’m listening to me.” Trio muttered under his breath. “Saints preserve me from…” Summer folded her arms under her breasts and watched the Captain pace. His fierce gaze scanned the cell and the muscles in his jaw bunched with fury.

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Her gaze followed his around the Spartan cell. A single bunk covered with a dark green blanket, sandstone walls, thick metal bars high up covering a long window the size of the bunk, a stone partition with a shower and a steel toilet. The room was larger than a prison cell, although without anything to use as entertainment. The military had no right to invade her home, not without cause and not without a search warrant. She knew the law and this man had broken it, regardless of his orders. And what was that about, anyway? The idea they were on a ‘rescue’ mission was ludicrous. But she couldn’t suggest they’d come to the wrong house, this was the only occupied part of the hill. Colonel Cosgrove and General Beckett were insane if they thought she and her sister, Winter, needed rescuing. From what? From whom? It sounded more like kidnapping than rescue as her father warned. But why did General Beckett want to keep the troops here? What was he up to? Should she access Beckett’s mind? Cosgrove’s? That would simplify things all around if she knew the ultimate goal. Unfortunately, she couldn’t unilaterally make decisions to delve into people’s heads, but whatever their plan, she trusted her father to sort it out, keep her and Winter safe. If the public, or anyone, knew what she and her sister could do… Her father told them often enough of experiments on ‘different’ people, people who ‘special’. He’d even directed both of them to research the subject and what she found caused more than a few nightmares. No, if Captain Duquesne knew of her talent, she’d have to… modify his memories, make him forget; and do the same for his men. She and Winter could not be discovered, for the consequences were... “Hel-lo!” Trio called again. He stood just beyond the cell’s bars, hands fisted on his hips, frustration clear on his face. He looked exactly what he was: a tough, fit, man, wrapped in body-hugging black. Summer blinked. “Is there something you need?” She asked politely with her gaze fixed on his broad chest.

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“Your letting me out of here would be a good start. Then you can get my men for me. After that, we’ll talk.” Trio said. Summer lifted her gaze met his eyes glare for glare. “No. I don’t think so. But make yourself comfortable.” Anger flashed in those blue, blue eyes and in his mind. “How did you know my name?” He asked after a moment. “Trio?” He nodded. “Because of your name: Duncan Dachineaux Duquesne. Three Ds, Trio.” She flicked her wrist as if it was of no consequence. His expression was serious as he hung his hands over the horizontal bar between the vertical ones. “Only the teams know how a soldier gets his handle. I’ll ask you again: How did you know my name.” “Guesswork won’t satisfy you, will it?” His eyes narrowed, then roamed over her body again. An involuntary hot shiver flashed across her skin. “No, ma’am, it won’t.” “Then I’m going to have to let you work it out.” “There a reason why you won’t tell me?” “Yes.” She nodded and slid down the wall to sit, crossed her legs at her ankles and waited. Trio studied her with a frown, his surface thoughts confused. “What are you doing?” “Sitting.” “Yes, but why? Aren’t you supposed to interrogate me? Or leave me alone to try and escape?” Summer gave him a slight smile. He really was handsome and she thought she’d enjoy conversations with him. She watched him sit cross-legged in front of the bars, as if settling in for a good long chat.

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“How did you do it? How did you get the upper hand on my men and me?” Summer pursed her lips and wondered if it was a good idea to talk with him after all. He’d be well-versed in evade and escape techniques and while he was the one behind bars, she had no doubt he’d use her in any way to escape. But she wasn’t without her own resources. She trusted her father to know what was best for her, and he trusted her to keep this man company while he spoke with the authorities. Summer looked at him. “The guards used the tranquiliser darts captured from your other men.” Trio’s eyebrows lifted. “And how did you get to them?” “Our guards are well-trained.” “Are they loyal?” “Yes.” She smiled at his thoughts of bribery, of promises of immunity from prosecution, of appealing to their patriotism. “Ex-Special forces?” He asked. “Some.” “I’d like to see my men now, please.” He said quietly. Summer regretfully shook her head. “You’re here alone, Trio. For the moment, you need to forget about your team and concentrate on you.” “They are my men. It is my duty to see to their comfort.” He growled. “I understand that, but this is one duty you cannot fulfil. As I said, we will see to the comfort of your men.” He slowly rose, flexing his thigh muscles as he lifted his body up without using the bars or his hands. Summer watched him, mesmerised by the play of muscles beneath his clothes. Then her eyes caught sight of the solid black plate covering the door lock and she felt a dull anger burn in her stomach. Damn Winter and her twisted mind. How dare she use her talent to bond the metal over the lock? What was she thinking? Ah, but that was it wasn’t it? She thought bit-

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terly, Winter never thought, only acted. And doing this would amuse her. Seal the lock and let Summer explain how it was done. “I only have your word they are being taken care of. Your word isn’t enough.” Trio said with a hard edge to his voice. Summer didn’t reply. She met his gaze and slowly got to her feet, with the same technique he used. “Under the Geneva Convention…” he began but she waved him off. “I know all about the United Nations and their laws, Trio, but they just don’t apply here.” She’d surprised him and his gaze darted around. “We’re not in America?” “Of course you are.” “Then what do you mean?” “Only that the rules of engagement have changed.” She said with a shrug. “But I’ll leave you to your thoughts and to search for a way out. I won’t detain you from your attempt to escape any longer.” She walked towards the studded steel door on her right. “Oh, should you still be here, supper will be ready in about two hours.” She gave him a nod and left him scowling after her, his thoughts projecting outrage and relief. *** James smiled at the bank of monitors behind his desk. Summer appeared perfectly at ease with the soldier, as if he wasn’t a stone-cold killer in uniform. On one screen, he saw her walking down the corridor to the stone stairs. On another screen, Captain Duquesne had his hands on his hips watching her leave with a confused expression on his face. She had done well. Winter, on the other hand, seemed to be having some difficulty with her charge. No matter what she did, Lieutenant Beech ignored her. James felt his lip curl at the sight of the younger twin talking, using her hands for emphasis and the Lieutenant lying on the bunk with an arm over his eyes.

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Maybe this was beyond her capabilities, he thought with disdain, just like everything else he asked of her. Damn her contrary hide. If it wasn’t for Summer, he’d have let her twin fend for herself outside the Fort. He shifted his attention to watch Duquesne walk around his cell, search for an escape route. Duquesne stared up at the oyster light set into the ceiling. It was too high for him to reach. Even if… ah, yes, there he goes… Duquesne looked at the bed and walked over to strip it. Bolts secured the bed to the floor. Frustrated, the man ran a hand over his short black hair and looked around again. He went into the privacy area, but he’d find nothing to aid him. James leaned back in his chair and watched the screens, a slight smile on his face as he remembered Thailand. When that madwoman had offered him her children, he’d rejected her. The expression on her face was priceless as she tried to convince him to take the children. He’d initially thought the woman was prostituting them. He didn’t know the woman’s name, not then, but when she ordered the children to demonstrate their talents, well, he’d been astonished; simply astonished. Then he’d been happy to pay the woman five thousand U.S. dollars a piece for the unusual girls, talking over Summer’s sudden protests, and to find and buy faked birth certificates and passports. Oh, they’d wailed and complained at first, but a word from their mother – or so he’d assumed – quieted them and they remained acquiescent all the way back to the States. They’d been subdued for months in fact, until he realised that as twins, they had their own language and Summer could ‘speak’ to Winter mind-to-mind. He’d put a stop to it and set about teaching them, grooming them, gave them what they came to understand was love and compassion. And Summer slowly forgot about her origins, about her mother. Manipulating the children was easy. He lavished attention on Summer, since she was the key to his success, and the little girl wanted his approval more than anything else.

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He used the fear of abandonment with Winter, used aggression; he threatened to separate her from Summer. He did not see how her talent would prove useful to him, legally, but as long as Summer was safe and happy, Winter accepted his rules. As she grew, Summer began to see him as a father figure, then father, and turned away from the memories of Thailand, settled on a child’s obedience to a parent and spent less and less time with her sister. He trained them, or brought trainers in for them as they, as Summer, brought wealth to him. He saw to Summer’s talents personally. Taught her to explore, to control, to block; taught her not to invade his mind, ever. Winter, he left on her own. Without guidance and with punishment should he catch her using her own talent, he was fairly certain Winter had learned to suppress, or at least block a good portion of her natural talent. He’d taught them to obey him or suffer the consequences. With Summer, he explained, it was because he loved her, but with Winter, it was because he damn well could, the damn little mutant. But both were adults now, with adult perceptions and questions. Neither twin openly rebelled, though he saw it whenever Winter looked at him. What would she do if given the chance? What could she do? Especially without the support of Summer. Years of careful manipulation brought a satisfying distrust to the twins’ relationship, one he still nurtured. One day, one day soon, he’d provoke a final conflict between the two and separate them. Permanently.

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Chapter Four He found nothing to help him escape. Duncan sat on the bunk with his back against the cold stone wall, his gaze continued to search out a flaw in the security. “There’s always something to help in an escape.” His instructor’s gruff voice echoed in his mind. Duncan agreed then as now, he just had to find it. But. Duncan’s gaze moved over the cell again. If nothing else, he needed the key to the door, everything else, he could work out as he went along. He discovered the solid metal plate covering the lock, but he’d yet to work out how to remove it. It was as if the metal, lock and bars were all one piece, with no seam. That meant there was another lock, another door somewhere. Hell, he had nothing but time to find it. Again, he focused on his objective: rescue the rescuers then rescue the captors. He snorted at the irony. His captor, as it turned out, was one of two he was suppose to retrieve. Duncan flashed on the conversation, on how she knew his handle. There were two ways: someone sold them out before the mission started, or Summer was a geneticallyenhanced woman. He lifted an eyebrow. She was certainly ‘enhanced’ in some areas; especially her lush body. He shook of the image, returned his thoughts to the problem at hand. Who would betray them? And why? He recalled Summer tapping her temple. He’d assumed she meant the mind reading, but her expression was both fearful and surprised. What did she have to fear and why was she surprised that he knew… well, she’d shown no sign of reading his mind yet, and he wasn’t entirely convinced, no matter the briefing Colonel Cosgrove gave him. Then again, it wasn’t as if he’d felt her inside his skull and she’d not regurgitated his thoughts. What did it feel like to have someone wandering around your mind? Alien? Scary? Invasive? His instincts tried to tell him it was true, but his logic denied all knowledge.

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Duncan rubbed a hand across the bristly landscape of his jaw. No one could completely guard against the invasion of his mind. Was it true? Did she pluck the information from someone’s mind? His? Where did that leave him? Stuck in a cell with no idea how to escape and no idea where his men were. Worse, he didn’t know the status of Sandy and his men. So far, the only person he’d encountered was Summer. And his mind drifted back to her, to her lush form, her smile, her gorgeous body, her soft words, her full breasts, her questions, her narrow hips and long legs, her smile, her body – again, her lyrical, upper-class British accent… Duncan shook his head. Maybe the tranquiliser had some other affect than merely knocking him out. She’d mentioned ‘supper’. He’d been out for longer than he expected. Had he received two hits of the tranq? Or had he slept through sheer exhaustion? The North Korea job had sapped his energy. Maybe this sudden urge to talk with her was a by-product of the drug. Maybe he’d been without a woman for too long. Hell, he didn’t know! She had some kind of an affect on him, that was for sure, and he didn’t think it was just his libido rearing. Cold fear washed through him. If she could read minds, could she plant thoughts as well? Was this attraction forced upon him? He swallowed against a suddenly dry throat. Dear God, if she had that kind of power… No, no. Not true. She’s not a mind reader. He thought, a little desperate. All his life, he’d been careful not to get involved with civilians; no point as a soldier. The only people he truly trusted were his men, and only with his life, nothing else. And yet, with a glimpse of beautiful feminine blue eyes, he was ready to drool all over her. It had to be the drugs and the fact that he’d just come off a long and gruelling mission. He hadn’t had a chance to slake his thirst with a woman yet. Yeah, that was it; any female would do. But he looked around the cell again. Summer wasn’t a mind reader, she hadn’t put lustful thoughts into his head, they were all his own.

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Wake up, idiot. He told himself. You’re a prisoner, for God’s sake; the prisoner of a certifiable nut job who threatens the nation’s security and uses his daughters to do the dirty work! Just find a way out and find a way to complete this mission! Worry about your willy later. He went back over the cell, searched every nook and cranny, then searched outside the cell for something, anything, to help him escape. All he had were the clothes he stood in and his boots, sans laces and belt. His stomach growled and he automatically checked his wrist. Of course, they’d taken his watch. He swivelled his head to the barred window above him. Darkness had fallen, he could only guess at the time. A metallic noise had him quickly lying on his bed, feigning sleep. “Hello.” Summer silken voice called to him and his heart thumped with unwanted anticipation. He lifted his head. “What do you want?” “Nothing. I came with supper.” Ah, opportunity knocking. He slowly sat up. Summer gave him another innocent smile and slid a covered tray under the door to the cell. “I thought you might be hungry.” She nimbly stepped back, beyond his reach. Duncan kept an eye on her as he rose and went to the tray. He took the lid off and his mouth watered as fragrant steam rose from the roast beef with gravy, roasted potatoes, pumpkin, some white-green stuff, and a pastry of sorts. He looked at her. “Oh, what you don’t recognise is the roasted leeks and the Yorkshire pudding. It’s very good, very British.” Her eyes sparkled with humour. He mustered a cold expression and covered the tray. “How do I know you haven’t poisoned it, or put sleeping pills in it?” “Ah, well,” she said brightly, “you don’t. I can try any piece you select of course, but that leaves less for you.”

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Clever woman, he thought, but… her suggestion had merit. “Come here.” He demanded and felt a surge of satisfaction at the rush of hot colour into her cheeks. So, he affected her on a more intimate level. He could use that. Duncan sat cross-legged, rested the tray on the stone floor and removed the cover. Summer on the other side of the bars and watched him. He used the plastic fork to cut into a roast potato, stabbed the piece and offered it to her through the bars, his eyes on hers. She opened her mouth and took the piece, chewed then swallowed the morsel. Duncan felt a shiver of lust as he watched her and suppressed it. Summer gave him a grin. “Excellent.” She said and he ducked his head to eat the rest of the potatoes. They were crispy on the outside, soft as a cloud on the inside. He moved to the slightly caramelised, deep orange pumpkin. She took the piece he offered with an expression he’d seen to often on other women: that of intimate interest, though he got the idea she wasn’t doing it deliberately. “Perfect.” She said and his hand shook as another spike of lust shot through him. Duncan concentrated on finishing the vegetable, the poked a leek. What the hell was a leek anyway? Summer cleared her throat. “Allium porrum.” She said and he blinked. “It’s from the onion family and a real treat when roasted, or made into soup with potatoes. Home grown right here in the Fort.” She finished with a faint smile. The cold wind of fear blew through him again and he froze. Guessing, she was just guessing. She didn’t read his mind; he had the pale thin circles hanging from the end of his fork. He risked a glance at her. She was looking at him again, with a slight smile on those full lips of hers as if… daring him to comment. Duncan held out the fork and she curled her pink tongue through the thin circle, drew it into her mouth. “I love roasted leeks.” She murmured. He watched her and wondered if he’d ever seen anything more erotic.

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His throat dry, he asked: “Is there anything to drink?” “Oh!” She said and jumped up, a wash of her spicy perfume flowed over him and he almost groaned. Almost. He watched her enter a door on the far right of the corridor and blew out a breath. Jesus Christ, he wanted her. Duncan rolled his eyes at the thought. He was not here to lust after this woman, but his wriggling and adjusting of his suddenly too tight pants gave lie to the thought. No, he had to remain professional while trying to manipulate Summer into revealing what she knew about the security of the area, where his men were, and how to get out of here. And why he thinking she might be innocent in all this? She lived here; she had to know of her father’s business dealings. Hell, if she was a mind reader, she was a participant! There was nothing innocent about her. He mused, unless it was on an emotional level, or she was an exceptional femme fatale. The worst-case scenario was using her as a hostage to escape; his superiors would frown on that, and the lady wouldn’t be impressed either, but… you always had to have a final solution, one way or the other. Now that he’d settled himself, there would be no more long, assessing or admiring looks or… his thoughts shut off as she returned bearing a plastic jug and cup. Summer resumed her seat and poured him a mugful of water, offered it through the bars of his cell. Duncan didn’t look at her as he took the mug and drank it down. The water was cold, refreshing. Only when he finished did he realise he’d swallowed it down with her tasting it. Giving in to the inevitable, he finished his now cooling meal without her tasting that either. The food was excellent, restaurant quality. He resisted, barely, the urge to lick the plate. Instead, he pushed it under the bottom bar of his cell, then rose and went back to his bed and lay down, an arm thrown across his eyes. He had plans to make.

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He heard her sigh, then gather his utensils and walk away. Just before he heard the clang of the door, the lights dimmed to an umber glow. It was the image of pure pleasure on her face as she ate he couldn’t dispel; her eyes sparkled, the soft skin of her cheeks flushed and her mouth. That sinful, lush mouth… and the graceful, lithe way she moved. He felt bewitched. Her doing or natural attraction? Duncan fell into an uneasy, silence-filled sleep. Dreams of a naked Summer crooning to him in North Korean as she leaned over his bed. Summer, inside his head, making him speak of secrets he’d die to protect. He knew it was dream but couldn’t awaken. The NK would torture him straight up. Summer could enter his thoughts and take what she wanted. He slipped further into sleep and dreamed of puppets: him with strings attached to his limbs. He looked up, horror bursting through him. Summer grinned down at him as she made him dance and Pocklington, a shadowy figure, stood behind her, directed her, his eyes burning red with madness. *** “And how are our guests faring?” The piece of roast venison nearly stuck in Summer’s throat at her father’s question. She swallowed hard, then her eyes darted to Winter’s, sitting across from her. Her sister raised an auburn eyebrow. Summer turned to her father, sitting at the head of the large mahogany table and she lifted a shoulder in reply to his question. Winter clicked her tongue. “Pissy and pissier.” She replied casually and reached for her wine glass. “Language, Winter.” James scowled then turned his attention to Summer. “Well?” “Um… he’s suspicious and demands to be released.” She said.

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“I meant the type of thoughts he’s having.” James meticulously straightened his knife and fork on his empty plate. Winter snorted and Summer glared at her, but she kept her temper. “He’s angry and unsure, as you’d expect.” She took a breath. “Father, I don’t understand why we’re holding these men. Surely…” He reached out and patted her hand. “That’s not for you to worry about. All you need concern yourself with is his comfort and well-being. This is between the military and me.” “Yes, father.” She said, frustrated. “Just pay attention to his thoughts. I want to know if and when he breaks out and then I want you to stop him.” “He can’t escape.” Summer said and then wished she’d bitten her tongue instead. Her eyes went to Winter. Her sister’s expression darkened with anger. “Oh? Why is that?” James said in a cool voice. “Winter?” “What?” Summer winced at her sister’s belligerent tone. It seemed that family dinner conversations increasingly ended in arguments or recriminations. If Winter could go just one meal without provoking her or their father, it would be a miracle. “Why can’t Captain Duquesne escape?” Her father asked. “Well, jeez, Pop, you asked to ensure the security down there, so I did. Don’t blame me if…” “Don’t call me ‘Pop’, Winter.” James ground out. “And tell me what you did!” Winter clamped her mouth shut, sank further into her chair, crossed her arms. Summer rolled her eyes. If her father told Winter to secure the cells, why was Winter acting as if she’d done something wrong? “The lock to the cell is sealed.” She said with a shrug. “It’s no big deal. Winter did her job. I don’t know that…” She thought Winter might relax more if Summer supported her. Instead, Winter rose from her chair, her expression tight. “Do you know how much I hate you right now?”

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Summer gasped as Winter strode from the dining room. She went to rise, to follow, but James forestalled her. “Don’t worry about your sister.” He said quietly and she turned to him. He watched Winter leave with a hooded gaze. “I’ll speak with her later.” Summer shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her lately. Everything I say or do just - I don’t know - sets her off.” “As I said: I’ll speak with her, try to find out what’s bothering her.” He leaned back in his chair as a servant came in to remove the plates. “Maybe I should…” “No, sweetheart. It’s you she’s angry with. Confronting her now will only make it worse. Let me deal with Winter.” Summer sighed. “Okay, father. If you think it’s for the best.” “I do. Oh, I most definitely do.” He said as his gaze went to the door again. *** Colonel Aiden Cosgrove marched into his superior’s office and snapped off a salute. “Sir!” It galled him to be here. Beckett was a petty tyrant who wallowed in his power, demonstrated by Cosgrove’s half-hour-long wait outside the General’s office. Black eyes looked at him with ill-concealed disdain. Aiden knew this man didn’t like him and he didn’t care. What he did care about were his men; his problem was getting this petulant tin-god to listen. “Stand easy.” The General nodded and Cosgrove dropped into a parade rest, folded his hands behind his back. “What is it, Cosgrove?” “Sir, I regret to report the failed return of my special operations teams from their assigned mission.” The General leaned back in his chair. “Failed… to return?” Aiden didn’t miss the flash of contempt in the man’s eyes. “Yes, sir.”

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“How long were the mission parameters again?” Aiden ground his teeth. Since the General had oversight on the mission, Aiden could only conclude Beckett was making a point. “Not more than twelve hours, sir.” A black brow rose. “And it’s been… how long?” “Fifteen, sir.” The General’s mouth twitched, though Aiden failed to see the humour. Maybe it was triumph. “Ah. So… your teams are a little more than three hours late and you want me to what? Send another team for them? Call out the National Guard perhaps?” Aiden ignored the sarcasm. “Sir, the teams failed to make the rendezvous point at the specified time and there has been no com traffic since they entered Patriot’s Fort. I can only assume the mission was compromised and the teams captured.” “Indeed. Should I contact the local police? The State police, perhaps?” Beckett threw his pen onto the desktop. “This was supposed to be a simple in/out mission. Just… go in, grab the girls and leave. What was so hard about that? Hmm?” Aiden kept silent. The General was trying to provoke him, but why? Beckett knew the political and public outcry if news of the mission failure reached the wrong ears. It was his mission as much as it was Aiden’s, so what was he doing? Damn it, they were the good guys! “Do you understand what would happen should this become public knowledge? A military unit, sent in to kidnap citizens. How the hell did your men get caught?” General Beckett asked and Aiden sensed gloating underneath the question. “Well, Colonel?” Beckett leaned forward and blew out a breath. “I thought your men better than this. Highly trained in covert operations. And they’ve just returned from North Korea on a mission my men should have taken. Obviously they weren’t as fit for the mission as you suggested.” The General glared at Aiden. Aiden cleared his throat of rage. “I believe, sir, that the ROE...” Beckett slammed his hands on the table and rose. “Don’t you dare tell me what the rules of engagement are, Colonel, or I’ll have you cleaning toilets in Bumfuck, Alaska!”

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The muscles in Aiden’s jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth together and braced to attention. Beckett’s dark eyes burned with temper, with contempt and Aiden wondered at his expression. This went beyond the simply animosity of their usual relationship. Beckett eased back into his chair. “Fortunately for you, I’m already aware of the situation and have taken steps.” “Sir?” Beckett allowed a small, cold smile. “I’ve taken charge of the mission, Colonel.” Aiden stared at him. Taken charge? He couldn’t… yes, he could. Beckett was a General and Aiden a mere Colonel; he could do whatever he damned well could get away with. “It’s only temporary, Colonel. You’ll get your men back in due course. Oh, and one more thing: do not, and this is a direct order, do not speak of this to anyone. Is that clear?” Aiden gave him a short nod. “Good. Now get the hell out of my office.” Aiden did the only thing he could: he saluted the General and turned on his heel, marched out of the office, burning with fury. Six months, Aiden consoled himself, six months and he’d no longer be under the command of that asshole.

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Chapter Five Summer rolled onto her back, stared at dim, sandstone ceiling. No matter how she tried, she simply couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest her mind. No, her thoughts centred firmly on the man in the dungeons and on her sister. How, why did Winter hate her? She’d seen the truth of her sister’s abhorrence in her eyes; and it hurt, deep down. Sisters shouldn’t hate each other, though this was onesided. She longed to go to Winter, demand an explanation, but her father would sort it out; he always did. In an effort to relax, she got up and walked into the bathroom for a shower. The room was large, luxurious and chilled. Dusky rose tiles surrounded her, but the normally soothing colour did nothing for her tonight. She turned the heater on, stripped off and stepped into the shower cubicle. Hot water sluiced over her chest and back from opposing shower heads. For half an hour, she stood under the massaging water. On a sigh, she decided she had enough, turned off the water and stepped out. She felt better as she towelled of, but it had done nothing to ease her tension or worry. She dressed slowly in her boots, jeans and a high-necked, long-sleeved shirt. She’d focus on Captain Duquesne, check to make sure he was comfortable and to hell with Winter. If she wanted to act like a child, then her father would treat her as one. The Fort was silent as she made her way down into the lower levels. She chose a different direction to the dungeon, would check on Trio’s men first; he’d want to know of their situation, though she doubted he’d believe her. Summer reached out with her mind, checked on the Fort’s personnel. A computercontrolled security system protected the Fort at night, but there were still guards on duty. Her father believed more in human senses than electronic ones, she thought with a wry smile. Still, she searched the surrounding countryside, beyond the walls of the Fort. No humans, but she detected the faint busy buzz of animals – hunting, feeding, sleeping.

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Inside the Fort, she picked up the sleep signatures of the guards, the cooks, the cleaners, the chauffeur… she stopped and rested her palm against the cold stone wall… who shouldn’t be in bed with the head gardener, what would their wives think? She turned her attention away when the interaction got a little too intimate for her comfort. She kept her hand on the wall as she moved down the circular staircase, absorbing the rough smoothness of the hand-hewn stone through her palm. It was quiet as she stepped into the dungeon area. She moved past the cells holding Trio’s men. She paused to consider the lumps under dark grey blankets. All slept, none feigned sleep. A smile twitched as she listened to the big sergeant, Sandoval, as he snored. How the others could sleep with that noise, she didn’t know. Familiarity, perhaps? She would have loved to talk to them, but her focus lay elsewhere. Summer moved beyond the cell to the steel door. She paused with her fingers resting on the handle. Her breath hitched as one of the sleepers projected images of violence and blood and death and… satisfaction. She turned away, opened the door and quietly went through. Soldiers must dream of war a lot, she thought, disturbed by the images. Moreover, she supposed, they couldn’t help it; it’s what they did. Summer stood outside the bars of the cell and watched the unmoving shape of Captain Duquesne. He was bundled under the blanket, quietly breathing in regular rhythm. She caught no thoughts from him, no dreams or images. Was he so self-possessed that he kept a tight rein on his dreams, too? She refused to look, refused to invade and study and… wallow. This man tempted her, and as such, she had to resist the lure. Summer knew from experience how devastating it was to be so infatuated with a man that you forgot their need for privacy, forgot how your own mind worked. Her hands rested on the horizontal bar of the cell as she remembered. She was eighteen at the time. Drew must have been near thirty, a big, burly man who worked for her father as a guard and whenever she appeared, his soft, baby blue eyes would follow her. She’d picked up on his thoughts, on what he wanted to do with her. She’d been so embarrassed at first, and then intrigued; finally, she was tempted and began to join in with

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his flirtation. Flirtation led to casual touches, brief, friendly kisses, even as she saw what he intended in his mind. His thoughts thrilled her and she began projecting what she wanted at him. And then she anticipated him, had worn a dress. He’d smiled at her and the images became clear. He guided her to an alcove, out of sight of the other guards. More kisses, deeper, seductive, and his hands were everywhere. Flashes came to her, thoughts, dark and sensual and again, she anticipated him, his needs, her needs. He pinned her against the wall, hiked her skirt, dropped his pants and drove into her. He made her come with that first deep thrust, then she began murmuring exactly what was in his mind, used his own harsh language, even as he thought it. And he recognised what she was doing. His thoughts screamed at her to get out, as he kept plunging into her until he pressed her hard against the stone wall and came. When he was done, he let her loose and dragged up his pants. Summer could barely keep her knees locked. “You’re one sexy bitch, Summer, I’ll give you that.” Drew said as he zipped up. “But I ain’t one to be mind-fucked. If you need nailin’, ask; don’t make someone do it.” And he’d walked away. Summer put away the devastation she felt as, from that day onwards, Drew ignored her, as if their interlude never happened. His thoughts were carefully blank whenever she was near and she felt… lost until she realised, that in the growing heat of passion, she’d forgotten the control her father taught her. Drew had thought her pretty and that was all it took. She’d created a mental feedback, inadvertently urging him on, which urged her on to encourage his attraction to her. Her manipulation of his thoughts created the mess and she vowed to block any of those types of thoughts. No, Captain Duquesne would not tempt her; she learned her lesson the hard way. Quietly, she went to the room near his cell and opened the cupboard. She retrieved a quilt and returned, settled herself against the cold stone wall and wrapped the thick covering around her. She’d just sit her, watching, ready to catch any stray thoughts or dreams he projected. The tension across her shoulders eased as she snuggled into the quilt.

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Her eyelids grew heavy and she slowly slipped into sleep, confused as to why being near him should give her comfort. *** Duncan opened his eyes and stared at the sandstone wall, sensed someone near. Carefully, slowly, he turned over, scanned the cell, then beyond the bars. Summer? Her head rested against her quilt-covered chest as she slept against the wall. What the…? She had, no doubt, an expensive and extremely lush bed in an equally expensive and lush bedroom. Suddenly, his thoughts snapped to that imagined bed, in particular, her in it - with him. Those long legs wrapped… What the hell was wrong with him? This woman was his captor; he had no business thinking lustful thoughts about her. The insane eye-searingly colourful quilt of bright candy pink, fluorescent orange and lime green couldn’t be any less sexy. He should be planning, he should be doing everything he could to find his men, Justin and his team. As he watched, she slowly slid down the wall onto her side and curled into a ball under the covers. He could hear little gasps of sound coming from her. Quietly, he slid out from under his own blanket and sneaked to the door, crouched in front of it and wrapped his hands around the bars. His head cocked as he listened to her breathe… no, he allowed with a grin, she was lightly snoring. Damned it that didn’t appeal to him. The soft sound settled into his heart and with a last look at her, he went back to his own bed and went to sleep smiling. A shaft of light beaming through the high window woke him. With the sun that high, he must have slept longer than usual, but he felt awake. Really awake, acutely awake, overwhelmingly happy to be awake. He stretched his body out under the covers then threw them off. Duncan rolled off his bed, his gaze darted to the cell bars. Summer was gone. He shrugged, then dropped to do push ups. He may be temporarily incarcerated, but he wasn’t going to let that affect his fitness.

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Sweat bloomed across his skin as he warmed and worked his muscles. When he finished with the push-ups, he stripped of his black t-shirt and moved onto sit ups. Then he backed up to the bars, raised his arms above his head and held on, lifted his legs until they were horizontal. When finally done with his work out, his face and body ran with sweat, his breath sawed in and out, but he felt… great; better than he had since embarking on the North Korea mission. He didn’t wonder, he just accepted. It was as if his subconscious mind had come up with a plan but had failed to let his conscious mind know. It didn’t matter, he’d understand soon enough. Duncan went to the privacy area, stripped off and turned the shower to lukewarm. When he was done, he towelled off and dressed. Now that he was exercised and clean, all he had to do was wait for… He lifted his head and there she was, watching him with a wide-eyed stare. “Good morning.” He rumbled. Summer slowly blinked, the red heat of embarrassment or anger - he wasn’t sure which – rose in her face. “Ahm…” He waited for her to speak, but her eyes kept wandering over him and he grinned. When a woman’s gaze devoured a man, his instincts to impress kicked in: Duncan slightly spread his feet, fisted his hands on his hips and dragged in a slow breath. Her immediately eyes focused on his expanding chest, then dropped to his waist and lower. Then her pink tongue flicked out and she licked her lips. His smile faded as a bolt of hot lust flashed through him then pooled in his groin. His hands slipped off his hips and he took a step towards the bars, towards her, intending to... what? What could he do with her on the other side of the bars? The movement jolted Summer and she blinked, turned away but not before he saw the flare of anticipation in her eyes. “I’ll see to your breakfast.” She murmured and walked away.

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Duncan cursed quietly as he watched her go. Damned if the woman didn’t tie him into knots! But what did he do about it? She was a criminal, on the wrong side of the law; he was one of the good guys. He could not be attracted to a villain no matter how tempting. Yet, all she had to do was look at him and he wanted to... he glanced at the shower alcove. Maybe a cold shower would ease this new ache. He had to regain his balance somehow, concentrate on the mission, but how did he defend himself against a woman who could, and would, control his houghts? How much of her attraction to him was real; how much was manufactured for his benefit? And what the hell did he do about it? *** Every time Summer thought of Trio, her face went red and her whole body flushed with heat and awareness flared. So much for her decision that she’d stop this infernal attraction, that she’d block any lustful thoughts of her own. All he had to do was look at her, flex a pec or two and she became a drooling, brain dead, raging tide of hormones. As she made his breakfast, she tried to think of a scenario where she wouldn’t have that reaction, but all she came up with was wondering what those bulging muscles looked like underneath the black clothes, what they’d feel like under her fingers. Summer sighed as tingling heat surged through her veins. Not good. So not good. She should keep away from him, send one of the guards down with his food but she feared it was too late for that, she’d wonder about him anyway. Her shoulders slumped. For the first time since she hit puberty, she wished she had a mother to help her through these emotional minefields. Her father did his best, she had to give him credit there, he did try, but embarrassment overwhelmed him and he directed her and Winter to the research library. She didn’t remember her mother much, just an echo really, and heat, humidity; fear. She couldn’t remember what she feared; only that it had to do with her mother. Her fa-

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ther refused to discuss her and eventually she and Winter stopped asking because their questions hurt him. But she really wished she had an experienced woman to help her through this. She flashed on Winter, then blocked the image with a sneer. Winter might be more sexually active than her, but given last night’s spiteful... comment, she had no wish to be subjected to whatever annoyed her sister this time. Breakfast done and no closer to a solution, Summer lifted the tray and made her way back to the cell room. Trio leaned his shoulder against the back wall, his eyes closed. She didn’t think he was asleep, but merely plotting and planning, or thinking and remembering. “I’ve brought your breakfast.” She said and slid the tray under the bar. Then she retreated to her wall and sat down. He opened his eyes and pinned her with an intense, unblinking gaze. When he was satisfied with whatever he saw in her face, he picked up the tray, returned to the wall and began eating. Summer let him eat in silence. There would be time enough for conversation, but when he was finished, he slid the tray back towards her and closed his eyes again. For the next hour, she sat and waited for him to speak. Another hour passed and still nothing. He kept his peace and so did she, though the atmosphere wasn’t tense, but one of quiet contemplation. Summer spent the time doing her scans of the outside environment. She knew she should focus on the list of names her father gave her, but she couldn’t summon the motivation. She’d catch up later. The township below the mountain buzzed with activity. Ordinary people getting on with ordinary lives. What would it be like, she wondered, to shop and chat with neighbours, to work in an office with colleagues? To catch a beer at the local tavern and gossip, or go to a movie, host a barbeque, watch fireworks, swim in the river with your friends? And do it all

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without anyone wondering if you were reading their thoughts? To live without this secret, to live an ordinary life? “Have you ever been beyond these walls?” Duncan asked, breaking her concentration with his low, warm voice. “Yes.” She muttered and refocused her eyes. “When?” “What?” She replied testily. “When have you been beyond the walls? Where did you go? What did you do? Who did you go with? Did you have a good time?” He asked as if genuinely interested. She studied him. Gone was the intensity, the sharply focused military man. Instead, he wore a friendly, relaxed expression, and it raised her suspicions. “Why do you care, Captain?” He lifted a broad shoulder. “Just making conversation.” He said. Conversation? Summer narrowed her gaze. No, that wasn’t it, and she didn’t need to pick up any thoughts he projected. He had an ulterior motive. She saw it in the too innocently charming smile. Maybe that was the solution. Maybe she should show him what she could do, demonstrate the power of her mind. The revulsion and anger he’d display would stop any lustful thoughts on her part. Like Drew. “Okay, then.” Trio continued. “How about movies? Do you watch them?” Summer frowned at him. “Occasionally. The classics, of course.” “Yeah? Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Indiana Jones?” “The Barretts of Browning Street, Hamlet.” She cocked her head. “2001: A Space Odyssey.” He gaped at her. “And you understood 2001?” Summer lifted a shoulder. “Sure. It’s an existential journey of...” “Jeez.” He cut in. “You ever watch stuff for fun? To kick back with a brew and cheer for the underdog, revel in explosions and fights and...”

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“Of course I enjoyed them. They’re excellent studies of the human condition. Olivier is wonderful in...” “Olivier is dead!” She tightened her lips. “I’m not a fan of overt, gratuitous violence. I prefer subtlety.” She sniffed. Trio snickered. “Okay, so you’re all about plot-driven movies that make you think. Right?” Summer nodded. “With character development, motivations, conflicts, resolutions.” She waved a hand. “Movies that have a point.” Trio grinned at her. “All the movies I mentioned have a point; maybe you should watch them before you condemn them.” “And have you watched any of the movies I suggested?” He shook his head on a chuckle. “Well, 2001 went right over my head. I’m a simple guy with simple tastes in entertainment.” Summer pushed to her feet, picked up the empty tray. “There’s nothing ‘simple’ about you”. He was as complex as people got. “Where are you going?” “I have work.” Trio’s expression darkened. “Ah, yes, the world domination work.” Summer clicked her tongue. “My father does not want to rule the world! He’s a simple businessman trying to do his best!” She marched into the break room and set the tray down, she’d deal with it later. When she returned, Trio stood at the bars holding them in his strong hands and determined to continue the argument. “Your father has more sticky fingers in more pies than any other businessman in history, more money than some countries and still he wants more. And you help him.”

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Summer stared at him. “You... resent him because he employs thousands, generates millions in tax revenue and feels a deep patriotic duty to protect this nation?” She shook her head in disgust. “You bet I help him!” “And when your father has complete control of our defensive and offensive capabilities? Will you do anything to stop him?” “What are you talking about?” “Your father is gradually buying up all the defence industry companies, and the minor weapons industries. When he has the minor ones, he can use that muscle to take over the major players. Once he’s done that, holding the government to ransom will be easy.” He gave her a shrug. “What does he want, Summer? He has more money than he can ever spend. He has the ears of presidents, kings and captains of industry, what more is there?” “I don’t know where you get your information from, but Father has no interest in holding anyone to ransom. He has all he needs and wants, which is to lead a comfortable life.” At his raised eyebrows, she felt compelled to explain. “He didn’t have much growing up – his side of the family never did. He wants us to have what he never had, the wherewithal to live as we please.” He snorted with disbelief. “If you believe that, if you believe he has no other ambitions, well, you’re as much a prisoner as I am.” She felt the knife blade of his words slip under her ribs and dropped her eyes to stare at the floor. How did she explain her father? A better question was why she felt she should justify him to Trio. She didn’t need to do anything. Trio knew nothing of her or her father. Summer rubbed her forehead. “Why are you here?” She asked, suddenly tired of this emotional roller coaster. “To rescue you.” “We don’t need rescuing.” She dropped her hand and approached him, angry. “And you have no right to come here!”

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“Yes, actually, you do need rescuing.” A smile touched his mouth and her temper rose. “No, actually, we don’t.” Damn, but he made her feel hot under the collar with his provocations. She paused and he looked at her with a cocked eyebrow and amusement in his eyes. He was doing it deliberately! “My father is a businessman; it’s what he does. I only help him when he asks. Mostly it’s because the rival has pulled some nasty trick on him. He’s an honourable man, Trio, he values integrity above all else.” “Especially from you.” He returned. She grabbed the bars. “You know nothing about him!” She felt a buzz across her skin, as if someone with a feather had brushed across her whole body. She didn’t flinch when he reached out and grabbed her wrist, but she wasn’t afraid of him. “I know everything about him except for what his daughters do for him. And now I’m beginning to understand. All I need now is what his plans are.” She tried to ease back, but he held her firm. “And I’ll never tell you!” He smirked. He actually smirked at her. “That’s because you don’t know.” He pulled her close. “Daddy doesn’t tell you everything, because, if he’s trained you right, and I think he has, you’ll betray him.” He murmured with his eyes focused on her mouth. “I’d never…” His mouth came down on hers and the room turned into a furnace. Summer froze. Then like an iceberg under a tropical sun, she slowly melted as his lips teased hers, his tongue brushed her mouth and she opened for him. Her hands fisted in his shirt and his hand left her wrist to pull her closer, to glide down to her waist, to her backside, to pull her close enough to him to feel the press of the bars… and something else. Suddenly, she knew where the heat was coming from and she wrenched herself from Trio’s arms. “No,” she whispered and brought her hands to her lips as Winter, with her strong emotions unchecked, projected unbridled passion for the hazel-eyed... Justin. His eyes burned with heat, with intent and Winter lowered her gaze to his naked, muscled chest.

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Her hands moved over his pectorals, moved down to flexed abdominals; then lower still. Summer shut her eyes, but the images kept rolling. Her sister was so angry, so determined to defy their father. She felt Winter’s passion surge through her as Justin’s mouth came down and there was absolutely nothing Summer could do.

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Chapter Six “Oh, dear God!” Summer breathed through the fire rushing through her veins. She’d never told Winter about how deep their connection truly went; a special connection, deeper and more complex than most twins. Winter was always there, a presence at the back of her mind. A constant, faint hum that she could block, unless Winter volcanic personality erupted. Like now. She’d always known her sister was a little wilder than her, had known when, like her, she’d lost her virginity to a security guard who’d ended up breaking her heart. Summer mourned with her, condemned all men with her, had ended up drunk and sick with her. Summer had thought her sister cured of that particular affliction, but apparently, she was wrong. Summer sought an answer to blocking her sibling out when she was… another surge of arousal coursed through her. Damn it, she was too close! “Summer? What’s happened?” “Happening,” she replied absently and tried to control her reactions, tried to block Winter out, tried to focus on something else. “What’s happening?” Trio demanded. She looked up at him and saw a double image. How the hell could Winter and Sandy… oh… my… “Summer! Tell me what’s happening! Are we under attack? Are you in any danger?” The double image faded a little at his words. “Danger?” Her voice had gone husky with arousal and she shut her eyes. Then opened them as the picture cleared. This might end up really, really embarrassing for her. Pacing merely magnified the problem. She reached out and leaned her hands on the bars, lowered her head and tried to even out her breathing. It would do no good to think of something else, Winter’s emotional state was high, charged and forceful. Trio’s hands came down on top of hers. “Tell me, Summer. What’s happening?”

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She stared up at him with despair. “My sister is about to have one rip roaring orgasm.” He looked startled, then snorted out an incredulous laugh. “What?” “We’re twins!” She pushed away from the bars, then grabbed them again as her knees weakened, her thigh muscles trembled. “Do you understand?” Trio tilted his head in thought, did nothing while her breath became more rapid and the temperature began to climb. Already, Winter and Sandy were divesting themselves of the rest of their irritating clothes, working up a sweat. Trio slowly lifted her hands from the bars and drew her in. His expression turned serious. “I understand.” He said and brought his hands to her wrists, then elbows, drew her closer. “Anything she feels, you feel.” Her voice was shaky when she replied. “Yes, at least when we’re this close, geographically and she’s on an emotional bender.” Trio smiled - not with amusement, nor with devious intent, but with gentle concern. “Then let me help you.” Summer breathed through the increasing arousal. “Why? How?” “The why doesn’t matter so much as the how. And that’s by distracting you, of course.” She shook her head. “I’ve tried all…” she sucked in a breath, then eased it out as the sensual onslaught temporarily ebbed. “sorts of things, mathematical equations, academic treatise, thinking of political speeches, exercise, cold showers. If I was on the other side of the Fort it would be different, not so... intense. I can deal with it then. One way or another.” “Ah,” he said with a smile, “there’s one thing you haven’t tried.” Summer looked at him and he drew her close, as close as the bars would allow. “If I were free, this would be much, much easier.” He murmured and let her arms go. “Ready?” “What are you... planning?”

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His blue eyes flared with heat, then he put his hands on her shoulders. “You’ll need to come closer.” He said. She hesitated, but his gentle urging moved her to press against the vertical bars. His hands stroked down her back to her butt and pressed her tight against him. “Look at me.” He said softly and she obliged. His eyes were stunning, surrounded by long black lashes, streaks of darker blue in the iris. She dropped her gaze to his mouth and watched him smile. This couldn’t be happening to her, she thought as a fog of desire enveloped her; Winter’s, hers, and, she realised, Trio’s. His mouth touched hers again, soft, questioning, warm; gentle sips to give her confidence that he knew what he was doing. Another hot surge went through her and she pressed herself against him, instinct taking over. Her hands went through the bars to latch onto his waist and pulled him close. She could feel him against her stomach and yearned to get closer, much closer to his heat. Trio’s hands streaked under her shirt. He shifted one hand to hold her hip to him, the other rested on her stomach, then slowly slid up to cup her breast; first one then the other, all without his mouth leaving hers. His warm, mobile tongue moved against hers and she followed his movements. He lifted his mouth from hers a fraction. “Better?” “Mmm...” She agreed and dragged his head down to hers. His clever lips moved down her chin, down her throat to her breasts. She closed her eyes as his mouth covered her nipples and gently bit down. Electricity shot through her and she gasped as his hot, wet tongue circled. The stubble on his chin and cheeks rubbed erotically against her sensitised skin. Summer ran her hands through Duncan’s short hair, gripped the silky strands as he made his way down her body.

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Cool air brushed her stomach, but she didn’t care. All she wanted about was more of what her sister was having. That avenue of thought shut down as Trio’s hand moved down to the open waistband of her jeans. She faintly heard the rasp of the zipper, but then his ever so clever hand was cupping her through her panties, his fingers sliding, pressing. Then he eased the elastic aside. His mouth returned to hers even as his hand began massaging. A finger slid inside her and she groaned into his mouth. “Rock for me.” He growled against her mouth and inserted a second finger. Heat surged over her again and her hips began to move. “God, so hot, so wet!” She heard him think and blocked him, concentrated on his fingers. His mouth lifted from hers, one hand shifted to pushing down her jeans and panties. “Oh, please.” She groaned. All she wanted was for this damn wanting to find its end! “Hang on, sweetheart.” He murmured and worked his fingers deeper. Summer rocked against his hand and felt the surges build towards a crescendo. “Oh, yes, more.” Duncan worked harder, his long fingers thrusting, thrusting, brushing, brushing against the inside of her. And suddenly, he twisted his hand, hit the spot, and his thumb pressed down. She clamped her thighs around his hand. An explosion of light and heat surged through her in a panoply of colour and light as the orgasm rolled over her. Summer leaned her head against the bars, breathed deeply as Duncan’s hands gripped her waist to keep her upright. Her heartbeat slowed, her breathing hiccuped as she paused, stunned at what just happened, what she’d allowed to happen. Winter glowed with satisfaction and the connection subsided to the faint hum in the back of her mind. Now Summer was alone with her actions. She expelled a jagged, jerky breath and lifted her head.

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She saw Trio’s chest heave under his shirt and dropped her gaze. She reached out and brushed her knuckles against his thick erection. He jerked back, released her. “You need relief too,” she murmured, “Let me...” “No.” He said huskily and turned away. “Duncan...?” “Leave. Now.” He bit out angrily and she sucked in a breath. He wouldn’t look at her. Why? Had she...? Did he think she’d manipulated her into... Oh, God. Summer ducked her head, dragged up her pants on a sob. No, she couldn’t have done it again. She’d been so careful! She couldn’t... but she looked at his bent head, his broad back and hunched shoulders and hard, cold rejection flared. “Duncan, I...” She stopped. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. Apologise? Thank him? What could she say? Swallowing hard against the growing humiliation, she turned and walked out. *** Duncan throbbed. Painfully. Helping her left him as hard as the bars between them. He heard her soft questioning voice, but he couldn’t... Dear God, he was her prisoner! And he’d just... What was he thinking? Oh, right, that he’d like to be inside her anyway he could. She was so responsive to him, to his ministrations. He didn’t hear her leave as he went into the privacy area to take care of his problem. When his heartbeat returned to something close to normal, he lay down on his bunk and threw an arm across his eyes, dragged in a deep breath and tried to work out how it all happened. She’d been so distressed, with her flushed face, trembling body and troubled expression. Looking, he admitted, as sexy as hell. He hadn’t even considered that she might be bluffing, he’d just accepted her words as truth, accepted that the twins did share a special connection. Hell, he’d heard of it, but never seen it. But after she’d come in his hand, common sense returned.

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Summer Pocklington was allegedly a mind reader and it wasn’t beyond his imagination to think she could put thoughts into his head, thoughts she then took advantage of. But he’d didn’t feel any intrusion; none of his thoughts felt hijacked. Wouldn’t he know if someone was riffling through his mind? Duncan groaned. How the hell would he know? He lowered his arm, stared at the ceiling. Summer was gone and his thoughts felt focused, with no hint of an intrusion. Was he wrong? Were his feelings for her natural after all, a simple case of mutual attraction? He wondered what she’d be like in bed, flat on her back with him between those soft lush thighs, firmly buried in the tight wet heat of her, with his flesh pumping and her legs wrapped around him, urging him on. The images in his head were so strong he felt himself harden again. Damn. I really want her. The attraction he felt for her had nothing to do with mind power and everything to do with his wanting her beneath him, surrounding him, groaning out his name and her eyes blind with desire for him. Summer was proving to be an enigma: A sunny disposition eager for conversation, a temptress with food, and needy when her sister was being screwed. And he suspected who was doing the screwing. He couldn’t stop the smile at that, but it faded as he recalled her responses to him. Again he had doubts. Was it her, or was she really channelling her sister? Would the real Summer please stand up? His problem was what to do about it. And that, he told himself, should be absolutely nothing. But there was something about Summer that appealed to him, that lured him and made him want to talk, to enjoy, to simply be with. And how crazy was that? Here he was, locked in a cell by a madman, mooning over the aforementioned madman’s daughter. Ah, a voice said in his head, but neither sister is Pocklington’s true daughter.

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Duncan sat up, leaned his head back against the wall. It was all one hell of a mess; he should be concentrating on getting out of here, instead, she distracted him with her dark, expressive blue eyes, full red lips, lush breasts and… God. He rubbed his forehead. It surely was a hell of a mess. *** James wiped his trembling fingers on a tissue and blew out a shaky breath. Talk about a sensory overload. Watching his children having sex with the captives had proven unexpectedly arousing. He tossed the tissue into the waste paper basket, zipped his pants and grimaced. Not his children; to think that was sick beyond measure. They were another woman’s children with some genetically enhanced sperm. They were the product of experiments, no blood relation at all. James poured himself a brandy. Damned if he didn’t want a cigarette, or a cigar. It had been most satisfying and also… curious. When he’d seen Winter and Beech get close to each other, touch each other, intimately fondle each other, he’d been interested and become aroused. Winter had opened the cell and they’d both mashed into each other’s arms, stripped off as fast as they could. But Summer… Summer was in a different area, and yet, she displayed the similar symptoms of being aroused even as she argued with Duquesne. He’d watched Winter and saw the same reaction in Summer. What type of a connection did she really have with Winter and how deep did that connection go? If he was right, then anything Winter felt – especially when it came to emotional and physical extremes – Summer felt, too. That might bear future thought. Was it just pleasure or did they share pain, too? And why hadn’t Summer told him of the connection? His gaze switched between screens. Winter was snuggled in the arms of her lover. Duquesne was... well then, Summer hadn’t returned the favour after all.

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James watched as Summer slowly climbed the stone staircase out of the dungeon. Her fingers pressed against her lips, her head bowed and her shoulders hunched as if to protect herself. Did Duquesne rejection hurt her that much? She barely knew the man. Oh, he was aware of the twins occasional... dalliances with the guards. He didn’t encourage it, but neither did he discourage the episodes. Each twin torpedoed those relationships in their own way, watched as they suffered the angst of rejection and recovered in short order. But now, the twins’ reactions were different. Summer looked inconsolable as her fingers wiped her cheeks with jerky movements while Winter slept content and satisfied in Beech’s arms. James swivelled his chair and drew out a lined pad of paper. He picked up his gold pen and made notes. At the top of page, he posed a question to himself: How could he use this new information to separate them further?

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Chapter Seven Cosgrove tossed the pen onto the desk, unable to concentrate, and leaned back in his chair. The questions would not leave him be. Why would Beckett allow Pocklington to keep his men? Why did Pocklington oblige the General? Had he suckered Cosgrove into providing men for a truly Black Operation? What did the General hope to achieve? What type of operation required his men to be confined in a private citizen’s home for an unspecified length of time? And the question that burned through him: How did he find out? He swivelled his chair from side-to-side, in thought. Then he reached towards the phone pressed the intercom. “Maureen, would you please get me Lieutenant Callender, please?” “Yes, sir.” The fifty-ish woman’s voice said. “How urgent is it? You have a twelve o’clock briefing with…” “Yes, I know.” He paused. How urgent was it? “I’ll see Callender as soon as you can arrange it. Preferably before the meeting.” “Yes, sir.” His secretary signed off and Cosgrove picked up his pen. He had to know. If he knew anything about Beckett, and he did, the General was up to something. Gordon Beckett, in his younger days, was renowned for his ‘can do’ attitude. A fine trait in a soldier. Hell, Cosgrove had it himself. It turned into a fault when the soldier did not consider the consequences of his actions and Beckett constantly skirted the lines of legality. His supporters admired him for being proactive; his detractors scolded him on pushing the boundaries and his refusal to take advice. Worse, his record was outstanding on completed missions, but the body count, in Aiden’s opinion, was too high and unnecessary if only the bastard would listen! But he had listened when Aiden laid out the plan for the Pocklington operation, Aiden recalled. Listened and raised few objections, and those objections were easily remedied.

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He should have been more suspicious, Aiden realised. Suspicious and withdrawn his proposal to his men, fresh from a mission in North Korea. Damn him, he’d been proud of the intel received, and now the world knew Pyongyang were no more serious about dismantling their nuclear facilities than he was in flower arranging. His mouth twisted with disgust. He was the one who hadn’t paid attention, and Beckett mouse-trapped him for this operation. He heard two quick knocks on his door before it opened. Lieutenant Stacey Callender marched in and saluted. “Lieutenant Callender reporting, sir.” “At ease, Lieutenant.” Aiden rumbled and the tall brunette dropped into parade rest and lowered her light brown gaze to meet his. Callender was his intelligence operative. Her current brief was to watch for patterns within the arms industry. And when Pocklington became involved, her attention shifted to him. What she found was enough to alarm the Pentagon and provoke this mission. “Sit down, Callender. I have a job for you that I want kept under the radar.” “Sir?” Callender sat perfectly to attention in her seat. Cosgrove folded his arms on the desktop and considered his next words carefully. “This will be for my eyes only, and you are not to speak of your research. Moreover, if you get caught, you and I will be swinging bare-assed in a breeze.” She blinked at him. He couldn’t read her expression. It was professionally attentive, cocked to one side, but no hint of emotion showed. Asking a junior officer to risk her career for him went against the grain, it might also lead to other, murkier consequences. He might survive the fallout, might be able to protect her as acting on his orders - unfortunately, he also expected her record to be marred, and with that, she’d have no hope of promotion. Doubts rose again. Did he have the right to ask this of her? On a mental sigh, he knew he had no choice; he couldn’t shake the feeling that his men were in greater peril than the mission parameters required. In order to get them out, get the girls out, unharmed, he needed more information on what Becket was up to, and that required a specialist; like the one sitting before him.

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He held Callender’s gaze until she slowly nodded. “What is it you need, sir?” Aiden eased out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “I’m proposing a… back door end game, Lieutenant, and I need your help to accomplish it.” Her eyes flared with interest. The BDEG was designed to circumvent the original mission plan in order to accomplish the goal, in other words, a plan B.; something Beckett was very, very good at. He wanted the General to see what he expected to see, and then Cosgrove would have him. Aiden was going to use the General’s own blind spot against him. It was up to Callender to find what he wanted, plan accordingly and consult only with him. It was a big ask, but if anyone could do it, Callender was the best. “Here’s what I need…” *** Summer hung her head as the cold water sluiced down her back, chilling her skin. How could I be so foolish? So stupid! She chastised herself. Her skin flushed again, but not from arousal, through sheer mortification. I don’t even like the man... much, and I let him... She blew out a breath, turned her face to the stinging spray to wash away the tears she’d already shed. She would have liked to blame Winter, but she could have taken herself off and done something in private, like she had every other time Winter took a lover. But she didn’t. I should have run. I should have stepped into the break room. I should have... It had been her choice to stay, her choice to let Trio touch her, to let him take command, to let him use his fingers to screw her. Her choice. No one else’s. And now she had to come to terms with it, with the indignity of Duncan’s rejection. It felt as if she had something jammed in her chest. Drew’s dismissal of her paled against this... this depression. But why? Why did she hurt like this? Why did she keep seeing his broad back, his denial of her? What was it about him that affected her so deeply? She barely knew him!

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Had she done this to herself, like she had with Drew? She could have sworn she was careful with her thoughts, with blocking any personal thoughts he might have. Sighing, she shut off the shower and dried herself. Dressed in jeans and chambray shirt, she made her way to the extensive library. Here was quiet, here was peace, here she’d find distraction in the first and second edition classics or research texts. When she’d found enough books, she piled them up and sat down. Her shoulders slumped. She didn’t want to read, she wanted to go downstairs and wrap herself in Duncan. But he didn’t want her. Oh, for a mother to talk with! She shoved the expensive books away. Could she approach her sister? Winter would be pissed as all get out if she knew just how deeply the connection went. She leaned back in her chair, Winter needn’t ever find out. Then again, her sister professed to ‘hate’ her. Did she want a simple conversation, a request for advice descend into a shouting match? No. She did not. The best thing to do, as her father would say, was to confront the problem and devise a solution. If she explained about Drew, explained why she was so careful not to intrude on private thoughts, maybe they could reach some sort of understanding. She wanted him to be at ease, wanted him to be comfortable while he was here, but doubted anything she said or did would dull the burn of imprisonment. Her insides trembled at the thought of more rejection. She didn’t want to open herself to more hurt, but she couldn’t imagine a pain deeper than this. She had to know; had to understand. If Duncan refused to speak with her, she’d know and leave him alone, get a guard to see to his food. Shrouding herself in her new found determination. She left the books in stacks – someone else would see to their return – and once again made her way down to the dungeon. He was sitting against the stone wall, as if it were his favourite thinking place.

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Summer said nothing as she went into the break room and picked up a stool. She pulled open a drawer and plucked out a lime green tennis ball. Returning to Duncan’s cell, she tossed the ball through the cell bars and then sat on the stool, used the stone as a guard against any heat he might generate in her. “Back for more?” He asked belligerently and lowered his head to look at her. So much for calm and reasonable explanations. She thought with a sigh. She couldn’t see his expression, but his tone was combative. It raised her anger as a bastion against the spurt of embarrassment. “Thank you, but no. You served a purpose, that’s all.” She replied. He snorted. “Yeah, I guess I did.” She gave him a tight smile, resisted the urge to snap at him. “Indeed. I’m sure a man of your talents has many ways to relieve stress, especially when he’s in the field with his men.” Summer saw him wince, then grin. “Oh, good one. But I’m comfortable enough in my masculinity to know that a hand up a bush is just as satisfying as a hand on a pole. You work it the same way, for the same result.” Embarrassment flashed across her skin, but she inclined her head. “Just so we understand each other.” “Indeed we do.” He agreed. “So what else can I do for you?” “Nothing.” “Nothing.” He rolled his neck. “Okay, if there’s nothing I can do for you, what are you doing here?” “Taking notes.” “I don’t know what on. I’ve been here for what? Thirty-six hours? With nothing to do but think.” “About?” His gaze narrowed and his face tightened. “Nothing.” “Nothing.”

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“That’s right. Nothing. I’m as empty as a keg on Ju-ly five.” “I don’t follow you.” He snorted. “No, of course not. You’re locked up in this Fort with little or no access to what’s real. We’ve already been down that route, and lady, you are ignorant.” “No, I’m not.” She bristled. “You certainly are.” He got up and rolled his shoulders, came to the bars of the cell and held onto them. “You know nothing of the outside world, worse, you’re not even interested. You sit here in your ivory tower and do damage at the behest of your prick of a father. But do you feel responsible? Do you want to change the damage that’s already been done? No, you protect him as if he’s some sort of saint. Well, he’s not. He’s an evil, manipulative, ego-centric asshole!” “Don’t shout at me.” She murmured. His knuckles were white where his fingers gripped the bars. His expression was intense, focused, angry. “You need to let me out of here.” He said softly. “You need to release my men, too. You and your sister need to come with us.” Summer lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t need to do anything. Least of all let you out.” He pushed off the bars and paced his cell. “Do you honestly think the US Government is going to allow your father to hold American soldiers against their will?” “Yes.” He turned to her, disbelief written on his face. “Lady, you are crazy if you think that.” Summer lifted as shoulder, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “You have no right to hold us.” His expression was cold when he looked at her through the bars. “Why are you holding us?” He asked. “I can’t say.” She said and stretched out her legs, crossed her ankles.

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“Can’t or won’t?” He shook his head. “Look. Summer. If you release us now, I’ll make sure the authorities know you co-operated. It will go a lot easier for you if you have me on your side. And I am on your side.” Summer thought about his words but declined to comment. She didn’t know why General Beckett and her father wanted them here. Her job was to see to their comfort; nothing more and nothing less. And as far as she could tell, she was doing a poor job. Maybe it was time to introduce Duncan into the realities of the darker side of government – and the moral dilemma in which he’d placed himself. His eyebrows rose. “You’re certifiable, you know that? You cannot detain American soldiers against their will, that’s illegal. You understand? You will go to jail for this, for a very long time.” She smiled at him. “And yet you still think to remove Winter and I from the only home we’ve known. Without our consent. Do you see the irony, Captain?” He growled with frustration. “That’s different!” “Right.” She snorted. “But think on this Captain Duquesne: do you honestly believe that the government will allow a mind reader and a manipulator to run around with the ordinary people?” His eyes were blue fire. “I have no proof that you are what the Powers-That-Be think you are. Frankly, I don’t much care. My job is to get you out of here, with or without your approval and with the full backing of the American legal system.” “Do you want to rethink that comment? ‘With or without your approval’? Where in the Constitution is that allowed?” Here was the perfect opportunity to demonstrate what she could do. But she’d promised herself never to look for personal gain. And wasn’t a demonstration to Duncan personal? She wanted him to understand, but didn’t want to scare him either. Summer sucked in her lower lip, then stopped as his gaze shifted her mouth. “Why does the government feel it’s necessary to remove us from Patriot’s Fort?” She asked. “What is the purpose of your mission? What, Duncan, does the government want with us, if you think us normal women?” He didn’t reply, but watched her. Summer could see him thinking on the answers.

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“Shall I give you some clues?” Her tone softened at the flicker of doubt that crossed his face. “Whether you believe it or not, Winter and I can do what no other’s can and the government simply won’t allow us freedom. According to what you think of my father, we’ve… I’ve already demonstrated a power that any government would love to have access to; otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. Would it be a dungeon, similar to this one, do you think?” She let her gaze wander around the secured cell. “Would we be surrounded by guards 24/7? Would they drug us to ensure our compliance, or to make sure we didn’t try to escape? Or would we be lab rats, poked and prodded and tested to see how we work?” Summer sucked in a breath as an image, a memory, flashed of white coated men, jabbing her and Winter with needles, drawing blood or spinal fluid. She swallowed hard. No, she was imagining it. It wasn’t a true memory, just her imagination. “The government just wants your safety.” He said, but she saw more doubt, as if he didn’t believe it, but felt he had to defend his actions. “Why would your superiors think we’re in jeopardy?” She spread her hands. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine. You said earlier that we are as much prisoners here as you are, but you’re wrong. We have all we need, all we want. What would the government do to us, with us? Where would they put us? How could they control us against our will? What would they offer to ensure our compliance?” Duncan remained silent at her bitter words. “You don’t have an answer. We wouldn’t allow ourselves to be controlled and in the end, they’d have one solution only. Their final solution. Don’t misunderstand your mission parameters, Captain Duquesne.” Summer got to her feet and approached him; not to close, no, not within touching distance, but close enough to see his expression. “Your job is to take us into custody. Your job is to put Winter and I under government control. Your job, Duncan, is to guarantee that if your superiors can’t control us, they’ll make damn sure no one else will either. Think on that while you sit here.” Satisfied at the momentary flash of surprise she saw in his eyes, she turned and walked away, expected his denials, but he said nothing.

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*** Duncan squeezed the tennis ball. She couldn’t be right… could she? He sat on his bed and tossed the ball at the far wall, caught the return. Tossed it again. Colonel Cosgrove knew about Winter and Summer, knew they had some sort of special power and rather than leaving them alone, ordered their ‘rescue’ in the interests of ‘national security’. Rescue or capture? How dangerous was James Wellesley Pocklington the Third? Was he the danger Cosgrove had made him out to be, or was he what Summer had said, a simple businessman the target of jealous rivals? But if the government removed the twins now, how did that torpedo the magnate? Pocklington already had money, power and influence in a number of countries and across many industries. No doubt he had a legion of managers to keep his empire profitable, so why try for the women? What precipitated the order to remove two civilians from their home? He kept tossing the ball, automatically catching it as he tried to understand. Someone compromised the mission before it began. Someone wanted Duncan and his men out of the way. Someone allowed them to remain detained. Cosgrove selected Duncan and his teams within two days of coming off a tense, covert mission. He had no time for his usual intensive research, been briefed more on an older black operation, than the people involved; as if to hide the true objectives. Oh, Cosgrove gave him plenty of information to delve through, but nothing to justify the mission. Given the suspicion of Summer and Winter’s talents, he’d understood the difficulty of completing the mission. Why hadn’t he asked more questions? Why did Cosgrove approve his hastily put together plan when he believed one of the targets to be a mind reader? Had the Colonel relied on Duncan’s post mission distraction and disbelief to ensure the teams failed? He threw the ball harder, missed the catch and watched the ball bounce around the floor of his cell.

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To what purpose? As Summer asked. What was this all for? “Damn it!” He didn’t know. Nothing he’d seen or experienced with Summer had shown him what she could do. Even if she was one of these genetically-enhanced people, he had no idea how extensive they were, and he knew nothing of Winter, not even what she looked like. Duncan dragged his hands down his face. “C’mon, pal, think!” Okay, forget how they got here – someone wanted them within Patriot’s Fort. Mission accomplished there. Why? Why insert a special operations team? The teams trained in many areas: surveillance, communications, stealth, unarmed combat, weapons... He was the commander of the mission; if there was another goal, surely he’d be informed? Or did Cosgrove need a specialist? A member of his team? He thought over his conversation with Summer, and what she thought. A final solution? Did she think the U.S. government saw them as that much of a threat? But there was no way there’d be an active assassination operation on American soil. And no one on his team would be a part such a thing. They’d all been through too much together for one of them to betray the rest. It was a lie. The government did not sanction murder. No, she was playing with him, screwing with his head. What had she called Winter? A manipulator? What the hell was that? Someone who moved objects or something else? He shrugged off the question; his focus was Summer. If he accepted that she could read minds, then... what? What are the consequences? The Defence forces would love to have one; imagine knowing what your enemy was thinking? Better yet, no one could hide from her, she’d simply pluck the information out of an enemy’s head. No need for interrogations. Trade negotiations would be a snap, the

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agendas of top government meetings known, the intelligence community... the advantage America would have… no secret would ever be safe, no password or encrypted security measure would be beyond her. And that was the crux of the matter. If Summer ever escaped the clutches of the government, went to another country and offered her services, she’d become an enemy of the state and terminated appropriately. She was right, he realised. She was too dangerous. Hell, she’d already done some major damage with her father’s businesses. The government could not afford to have her, or Winter, anywhere else but under their control. If he accepted she could read minds and he couldn’t – quite – believe it, what he did or didn’t believe no longer mattered. Duncan closed his eyes and thought back to the briefing, condensed it, reached a different conclusion: Pocklington wasn’t the threat to national security, the twins were. And if they were the true objective, then Summer was right again and he was wrong. He’d spent his career defending his nation, but now he felt torn between duty and honour. Because if she was right about their being targets, then she was right about the government and what they would do. But worst of all, he understood why Cosgrove wanted the special operations teams detained and in place: because Summer’s final solution could easily go from back-up plan to implementation and Duncan was in no position to stop it.

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Chapter Eight James was impressed. Summer created enough doubt within Captain Duquesne that he had the look of man who’d been pole-axed. Oh, Summer had the right of it: no government worth their salt would allow her or Winter loose; they were too valuable as he himself already knew. The good Captain now found himself in a moral quandary. Did he try to complete his mission, knowing he condemned Summer to a life of government control and testing? Or worse, executed as a threat to the country’s security? Or did he try to find some honourable way out of it where there was none? He turned his attention to Summer. She was in her room, sitting at one of the windows staring off over the forest. His little mind reader was pensive, he saw, and a little disconsolate. Small wonder why. He’d thought to twist Beckett’s tail by keeping his men here for longer than expected. It wasn’t as if Beckett could complain, either; if this military-sanctioned operation on American soil became public knowledge that, the outrage would break Beckett’s career. The General was becoming more insistent in taking control of the girls, but he wasn’t done with them yet. He had to break the connection between the twins utterly, turn them against each other. Then Beckett could have Winter, but not Summer; she was his. But he also knew Summer, knew her compassion, her deep, abiding love for Winter, regardless of what the younger twin did or said. How did he turn that love into hate? It would have to be something catastrophic. His eyes went to Duquesne. Was he the key? He and Summer had done an intimate thing; not as intimate as Winter and Beech, but a start. He tilted his head, watched Summer and Duquesne. Then he picked up his own report on the interaction between the two, read through it and stared at the screens again. He read through the report he’d created on Winter and Beech and a smile twitched. His girls had to know any relationship they started with these men was doomed, didn’t

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they? His eyes went to Summer, still contemplating the forest and Duquesne, bouncing the ball around the cell as if frustrated. Didn’t they? Summer acted as if disappointed in Duquesne. Why be disappointed if she felt nothing for him? Why present him with the facts if she wasn’t trying to convince him she wasn’t a bad person? Why speak with Duquesne at all if her job was only to feed him, as James directed? They were attracted to each other, that much was clear. Could he use the attraction? How did he help one child achieve happiness, while breaking the trust of the other? He flashed on that woman, Jennifer, from so long ago, holding the hands of two children. She was an attractive woman for all the desperation in her eyes, in her body language and her dishevelled appearance. Summer had done so much for him, since staring up at him with fear in her wideeyed gaze. She’d given him wealth and power, given him influence and an unassailable position in society. He set the papers aside and studied her. She looked lonely, staring out the window, he thought, unhappy and he was surprised at the pang in his heart. But the solution came to him and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before. He checked the calendar. Timing is everything. And the timing says now. The solution to Summer’s happiness, the solution to getting rid of Winter, even the solution to satisfying Beckett’s need to control the girls. James chuckled, imagined his plan smoothly playing out. To implement the idea, he needed Summer to be more proactive where it came to Captain Duquesne. Maybe he needn’t push her, but him. Yes, Captain Duquesne was an honourable man, a man bound by duty and the protection of the innocent. It was time to have a little chat with the good Captain and push a few well-chosen buttons.

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He shut off the surveillance and pushed back from his chair, made his way downstairs. *** James heard the rhythmic thump of a ball against a wall. He looked into the cell in time to see Duquesne’s expectant expression segue into hatred. “What do you want?” “To talk.” James replied with a smile and took the seat Summer had vacated. “Go to hell.” “Now, now Captain, that attitude will not get you anywhere.” He crossed his legs and held his knees with his hands. “You’re a fucking nut job, you know that?” Duquesne threw the ball with renewed vigour. Yes, he was upset about something and James suspected he was not the visitor Duquesne expected. “Why? Because I’m rich? Or because I’m successful? Or because I caught you breaking into my estate?” “No, because you threaten the world with your paranoia and ego-centrism.” “My…?” James laughed. Oh, the Captain sat astride his moral high horse well. “What do you know about my business other than what you’ve been told? What do you know of truth other than what you’ve convinced yourself it is?” Duquesne glared at him. “I know what is right and what is wrong. And what you’re doing is wrong. On so many levels.” “Wrong am I? There’s something wrong with free enterprise and capitalism?” Ah, that surprised him. “Isn’t that what this country was built with?” “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You’re using your children to further your own ambitions, you bastard.”

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James gave him a smile. “Indeed I am. My lineage is not as pure as most people think, but that’s neither here nor there. As to using my children, well, they’re not actually mine, so I’m not overly concerned there. And they are useful, don’t you think?” “Warped.” Duquesne shook his head. “You are one warped bastard.” “I don’t think you can ever have too much wealth, power or influence.” James’ smile reached his eyes, something that rarely happened, but he so enjoyed playing with people, watching their reactions, listening to their words as they tried to squirm their way through a conversation. “It’s what you want to do with the power and influence.” “Oh? And how is it you know my plans?” Duquesne didn’t reply and went back to tossing his ball in a more relaxed manner. For a soldier of his calibre, he shouldn’t have spoken to James at all. He should have announced his name, rank and serial number, or ignored James, kept thumping that ball against the wall as if nothing could phase him. Summer had affected him deeper than Duquesne knew. Time to see just how deep. He tugged on the hooked nose he’d inherited from his famous forebear. “You’ve been entertained by Summer?” No reply. “She’s a fine figure of a woman. Beautiful, intelligent, loyal... voluptuous. A little naïve in the ways of the world, and of men, but I have no doubt that she’ll learn.” The ball thumping rhythm faltered, and then returned. “Can you imagine what an asset she’ll be when I take her abroad to meet my business rivals? She’ll not only be able to seduce them into compromises positions, but also steal every business secret out of their heads. She’ll be able to tell me exactly what the CEOs plans are for the company. She could even…” “I don’t know why you’re bothering to tell me all this. She’s your kid. Do with her what you will.” Oh, he liked the feigned disinterest. “I intend to. I’ll use them both, and when the time comes, their children, too.”

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The ball stopped, caught in Duquesne’s hand. James met the disbelieving gaze with a smile. “She’s an asset; her sister, too, though to a lesser degree. That’s all they are. And just so we’re clear, I will kill them both before I let anyone else use them. Summer is going to give me... everything; everything I’ve ever wanted.” Duquesne tsked him, as if what he said was expected. “You want to rule the world.” “No, of course not, that would be too much like hard work. No, just a little corner of it. A most powerful corner, but a corner just the same.” “You’re talking about the U.S. government. You’ll need Summer’s continued help…” Duquesne’s voice trailed off. “No, you won’t, will you, because by then, you’ll have all the secrets to keep power, and Summer will have already manipulated the minds of powerful members of Congress and the Senate.” “Very good, Captain. There’s nothing I can’t accomplish with Summer by my side.” He cocked his head to the side and studied the pale Captain. “Of course, Winter is just as powerful.” Understanding dawned. “We’re not leaving here. You’re going to kill us, otherwise you wouldn’t be telling me all this.” James affected a shocked expression. “My dear Captain, of course you’ll be released. Eventually.” “No.” Duquesne shook his head. “You’re not going to let us go as we are. You’ll have Summer to do something to our minds, or your girl Winter. Either way, we won’t be leaving here in the same state as we came.” “No, Captain,” James replied, “you certainly won’t be.” “People will know.” “Captain. Where’s your proof? Do you think I document everything Summer and Winter do? No. There’s no paper trail to follow because there’s no need. Even my business dealings, which come under constant scrutiny, are above board and legal.” “You really are a prick.”

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“I’ve been called a lot worse by better men than you, Captain.” He stood up and stretched, shot the cuffs of his shirt. “Well, I’ve got things to do. Summer and I have to discuss which one of your men to kill.” “Kill?” “Oh, yes. Didn’t Summer tell you that one of your men was assassin? I could have sworn I asked her to let you know. No matter, we’ll discuss that, too.” James lifted his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn’t actually spoken to Summer yet, but Duquesne didn’t know that. “Surely you didn’t think your incarceration was an issue of bad luck or bad planning? That your superiors didn’t decide that taking Summer and Winter was impossible?” Duquesne remained tight-lipped. “Killing them both is plan B. Captain. That’s why you’re all here; at least two are to ensure neither Summer nor Winter get the opportunity to use their talents anymore, and I won’t allow it.” He shrugged. “In any event, one attempted murder requires retribution don’t you think?” “Leave my men alone!” “Or what?” “Or I’ll…” “Tell you what.” James approached the cell bars. Not too close, he didn’t want to give any unfortunate opportunities to the soldier. “I’m a fair man. Why don’t I send Summer down here and you can explain to her why she should let her own would-be assassin live to try and kill her another day?” The muscles in Duquesne’s jaw bulged, his hands fisted. “It will give you the opportunity to convince her that your man is innocent. Hmmm? Do you think any of your men could hide their thoughts well enough from her? Would you like to know who your traitor is?” James smirked as he walked away; the Captain’s inventive curses scorched the air behind him. ***

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Duncan ran out of curses. James Wellesley Pocklington the Third didn’t look evil, but he was. Strip him of those custom-made suits and handcrafted shoes, put him in jeans and flannel shirt, and he epitomised the kind of man police hunted for unspeakable acts of cruelty. Duncan saw that clearly when he looked into the man’s chillingly cold brown eyes. He got down and started on some push-ups. He had to get rid of the excess energy, to try and ease his sulphurous ill-humour. An asset. That’s what he’d called her, an asset to be controlled. And he could do nothing; at least, not while he was stuck in this damned cell. And there was no way he could get out. He started on the sit ups. Could he convince Summer of her father’s ambitions? She’d said he was merely a successful businessman, a good man who’d raised them, educated them, understood them. The bitter taste of bile rose. Worse, he represented a government that wanted to kill her at worst, and lock her up at best. She had an elegant grasp of the situation and there was no way she’d betray the only father she’d ever known for a man she barely knew. A no-win situation. How did he get out of this? How much time did he have? Enough to… oh, no, hell no! He jumped up and did the leg lifts with the help of the cage bars. Enough to seduce her into releasing them? How likely was that? He was just antsy, that’s all. No way would that idea work. No way was he going to put himself in that position. Summer, as far as he could tell, was a nice woman. A little naïve, a little feisty, but she’d done nothing overtly wrong, by her understanding. No, that wasn’t true, either. She’d assisted her father in their detention, and as such deserved to be punished to the full… and who was he trying to convince? She’d been brainwashed by the bastard her

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whole life and everything she’d done until now was out of innocent loyalty to her monster of a father. She was the key - to this door, to his freedom, to bringing her father down. But in doing so, wouldn’t he be using her as badly as James? Using her to complete his mission? Yeah, but sometimes, you have to take the lesser of two evils. She’d hate him for it. No doubt about it, he’d end up betraying her into the custody of government officials and a lifetime of what? Being researched? Being constantly tested to find out how powerful she truly was? Or simply quietly killed somewhere? Or worse, lobotomised and put into an institution where she could do no harm? And that thought made him sick at heart. He lowered his legs to the floor, all the extra energy expunged from his system, sank to the ground. He leaned against the bars and put his head in his hands. God. They couldn’t be so cruel; not his own government! But he knew well they would, could and did do such heinous things; all in the name of national security. Anything they couldn’t control, they destroyed, or made damn sure no one else could use them. And when had he decided she truly was what he’d been briefed on, a mind reader? “Are you okay?” Summer’s soft voice spoke behind him. “Are you sick? Are you…” Her voice trailed off with a gasp and he knew she’d picked up his thoughts. “You’ll have to teach me how block you out.” He said, his voice filled with quiet despair. “I… I brought you some… lunch.” “I’m not hungry.” He murmured and lifted his head to stare at the far wall. “It’s only sandwiches; you can have them when you are hungry.” He wouldn’t look at her, couldn’t look at her without seeing… “Thank you.” He said and tried to think happy thoughts. All he came up with was the time he and Sandy visited his grandpappy and sat around the campfire, listening to war stories. Maybe if he focused on that time, he wouldn’t feel so… bereft, he guessed.

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“You seem out of sorts, this afternoon. Is there anything I can do to help?” She paused as his head turned. “Short of letting you go, that is.” He heard the wry amusement in her voice and it made his throat tighten, so he simply shook his head. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Father has a job for me to do this afternoon.” “He wants you to find out which of my men mean to kill you.” “So, I was right after all.” She murmured. “You’re here to... How sad.” “No, Summer I am not. I haven’t lied to you. My orders were to rescue you; nothing more and nothing less. But... I’m beginning to think one or two of my men received alternative orders. You’re father wants you to invade the minds of my teams to find out who would kill you.” Summer snorted. “He knows I won’t do that.” “No, he doesn’t. He expects you to obey him, and then come back to me so I can convince you not to kill whoever it is.” “I’m not a killer, and he won’t ask me to do that.” She protested from close by his shoulder. Close enough, in fact, that he could smell her clean, fresh scent. “And Father knows well that I do not look into people’s heads for personal gain. I only do it to help him with his business or security.” “Then that’s what he’ll say: that it’s for your own security to find the assassin.” “Well, put that way, I suppose he’s right. I won’t let the assassin kill me.” “Christ!” He growled with frustration. “You’re so loyal to him when he’s not worthy of it!” Her hand lightly touched his shoulder and he flinched. She withdrew and he was immediately sorry for it. “He’s my father, Trio.” She said softly and it near damn broke his heart to hear her quiet and absolute belief in a man who didn’t even see her as human. Duncan hung his head. “Do you think I could have some coffee, please?”

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“Sure.” She drew back from him and he could breathe again. “As long as you behave with it.” Behave? Duncan frowned. Then his mind imagined what he could do with scalding hot coffee, saw what it would do to her silky soft skin and rebelled. “I’ll be drinking it, thanks.” Against his better judgement, he turned his head and saw a denim-clad butt move into the other room. He dropped his gaze to the sandwiches. Eight of them. Duncan reached under the bar and drew them closer. They were roast beef with salad on a pale brown bread. Wholemeal? Gah… He wasn’t a fan, but food was food and he’d eaten worse. He lifted a shoulder and bit into the sandwich, almost groaned. She’d made it exactly as he liked them – except for the bread. Had she subtly riffled through his memory to find that out? Duncan wondered just how much information she stolen from him… but no. If he believed her, then his personal life was out of bounds for her. Did he believe her? His head turned at the scent of freshly brewed coffee. A tin mug came through the bars, held by a long, slim-fingered hand. He reached up for it. “Thanks.” The first sip was pure heaven and he savoured it. “So, Summer. How much do you know about me?” “Not much.” She replied quietly. “Why not?” “Because it’s my rule never to invade people’s privacy. For business and security, yes, as I said, but I have no interest in where people like to shop, how many wives they’ve had, where their kids go to school. I don’t think I’d find it very interesting, so I only skim the surface of people’s minds, no deeper.” “Summer’s Rule?” “Yes. I’m not a bad person, Trio.”

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“No, just misguided.” He murmured and continued to eat the sandwiches and drink the coffee. “I don’t think I’m misguided at all.” “Do you know what I do when I’m off duty?” He asked and kept his focus on the wonderful flavours of the beef and horseradish. “No.” “Who my best friend is?” “Justin.” “And why would you know that? It’s personal information.” He felt the breath of her sigh on the skin of his back and he felt himself become aroused again. “I know that because he’s your Special Ops second-in-command – he couldn’t be that if he wasn’t your friend as well.” He changed the subject. “How much do you know about your father?” Duncan glanced over his shoulder at her when she didn’t reply. She had her back to him and was easing back to rest against the bars, too. He felt the warmth of her body against his own. “Why do you want to know?” She asked. “I’m just trying to get a handle on the situation here. I don’t want you to get hurt, and I don’t want you to be involved in this mess.” “But I am involved; willingly and actively involved. I can’t be anything else. And why would you think I’m going to get hurt?” He finished off the sandwiches and nursed his coffee between his hands. “Because I don’t think you’re being told the full story. I don’t think I’ve been told the full story, either. And I can’t help but think we, you and I, are pawns in some sort of game the higher-ups are playing.” “Hmm. What sort of game, do you think?” “I don’t know; that’s what so frustrating.” He leaned his head back and rested it against the bar. “Let me run through this: my squad and I are called to a mission that

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requires us to rescue…” How honest could he be here? What did he know that she didn’t and would the new information upset her? Maybe he needed a little proof she might trust him. “So you said. But we don’t need ‘rescuing’. I think I inferred this morning that it wasn’t a rescue, but an officially sanctioned kidnapping.” She replied into his silence. “I’m not entirely convinced. My men and I are honourable people. We follow orders and do our duty.” He said testily. “Yes, and you do so admirably, I’m sure. But why would the government want us to be ‘rescued’ as you put it? I’m sure you’ve come up with the answer on your own, so, please, don’t call it a rescue anymore.” “I can’t believe my superiors would stoop to this level…” “Yes, you can, Trio, because it’s the only answer that fits. The government wants to control Winter and I; and if they can’t have that, they will see us terminated, why else would you be here?” “I don’t know that there is an assassin!” He protested but knew she ignored him as he felt her move away, felt the loss of warmth. “Then it’s about time I did know!” Duncan got to his feet. Summer flicked her gaze down then up again, her face flushed red before she turned away. That one reaction, that one hint she wasn’t unaffected by him had him changing his mind on what he was about to say. “Damn it!” He thrust the mug through the bars. “May I have some more of your most excellent coffee before you go?” Her startled gaze flew back to his and he gave her a cocky grin. “Please?” He watched as her shoulders lowered and the tension eased out of her. She grabbed the mug. “You are such a cheap date.” She muttered and stomped off to refill his mug and he grinned. Summer returned and held out the coffee. She didn’t smile at him and he knew why: she was about to interrogate his men, and neither of them could be happy with that.

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“Thank you, Summer.” He said and gratefully accepted the mug. “I would ask one, no, two things of you before you go.” “I can’t promise anything.” She warned. “Take them some of this coffee?” He asked She looked at him, then nodded. “And the second thing?” Duncan swallowed hard, and then took a deep breath. He was about to trust her and wondered if she realised it. “Please don’t hurt my men. They’re only following orders.” She lifted an eyebrow. “But they would hurt me, if they had the chance.” “I think you’re better that; I think you have your own code of honour.” He nodded as her eyes widened a fraction. “You’ll get your answers, Summer, but what then? What will you do with the information?” Summer scowled at him. “I can’t promise that I won’t defend myself if they try something.” He nodded. “Self defence is fine, but don’t…” He couldn’t help but think what she could do to them as an image of a slack-jawed, drooling and empty-eyed Noddy flashed into his mind. Summer stepped back and he saw an expression of shock and horror come over her face. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m some kind of a… a… monster?” Duncan winced and then watched helplessly as her eyes filled with tears. “I see that you do.” She bit her trembling lip. “Well, don’t worry, Captain Duquesne, I shall treat them with all the respect and dignity they deserve!” She spun away from him before he could deny her accusations. The steel door slammed, rung in his ears and he wanted to throw something; not the coffee, but something else. Instead, he felt his shoulders slump in defeat. He took his brew and sat on the bed, suddenly tired. He’d just blown his chance at earning her trust. How was he going to convince her to let him out – or her in – if she accepted that he thought she was cruel and evil?

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Chapter Nine Summer stormed through the cell block. How could he? How could he think her a thoughtless puppeteer, able and willing to hurt another human being, when she’d shown no such inclination? She treated him with respect; she hadn’t threatened him with physical harm so why would he think she’d do something awful to his men? “Hey, Summer!” Winter stepped into her path and put her hands on Summer’s shoulders to stop her progress down the corridor and then her hands dropped away. “What’s turned your precious calm into a towering rage?” “That… that… Oh, I could just….” Her hands fisted and she turned in a circle, rubbed her forehead with a fist and searched inside for something to cool her anger and, she realised, the aching hurt. Winter laughed bitterly, her jade coloured eyes glowing. Really glowing as if there was a light behind them. She appeared to have forgotten that she hated Summer and was now back to her quarrelsome self. “Having problems?” The smug tone of her sister’s voice had her anger draining away and hurt blooming. She looked down, studied her Nike-clad feet. “Trio, Duncan.” She huffed out a breath. “Captain Duquesne… called me a…” Summer lifted her eyes. Winter’s auburn eyebrows rose in question. “A what?” “A monster.” She said quietly. Winter sighed and Summer heard her thoughts. Here we go again. “You’re not a monster, Summer. I’m not a monster. Nobody is a monster, okay?” Anger surged. “Aren’t we? Look at us! I can read minds, manipulate thoughts, make people do things they wouldn’t normally do! And you!” She poked her sister in the chest with a finger. “You can make things out of thin air or change a… a… flower into a gun, water into wine. We both have the ability to kill!”

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“Don’t poke at me, Summer.” Winter warned. “I can’t make water into wine – only remove the elements of wine until all that remains is H2O, and a flower? Into a gun? Puh-lease.” She rolled her eyes. “Want me to tell you how complex that is? No? Then tell me what’s really up your nose, hmm? You’re obviously pissed about something.” Summer firmed her lips. She would not be soothed like this. Not again, not anymore. “Winter, just stop it, okay? Stop with this ‘Summer’s upset again, condescend until she’s calm’. I’ve had enough. Speak to me as an adult, not as a child for God’s Sake!” Winter crossed her arms, studied Summer. Then she nodded. “Okay, sister-mine. Tell me what’s wrong.” Summer opened her mouth to blurt out everything; or almost everything. Her mouth snapped shut and she closed her eyes. “I can’t.” Winter’s lip curled in a sneer. “Then you’re on your own.” Summer opened her eyes and stared forlornly at her more outgoing sister. “It’s personal, as in Father-would-kill-me-if-he-found-out personal.” Winter snorted a laugh. “Well, if you’re screwing around, you’re probably right. Daddy-dearest isn’t the understanding paragon of virtue you make him out to be.” “What do you mean?” Winter looked away. “Nothing.” “It’s not nothing if you’ve got that pissy look on your face.” Her sister grinned. “Yeah, well, I’ll might tell you later, okay? For now, where are you headed?” “Off to talk to our… ‘guests’.” She said sourly. “Oh? I thought the men were off limits to both of us.” Summer shook her head. May as well tell her. The men had nothing to do with the main captives. “I’m going to look for our assassin.” “Really?” Summer nodded.

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“An assassin? Who… oh, shit, really?” “Yeah.” Summer frowned as Winter paled. Her expression morphed from amusement to shock to narrow-eyed fury followed by a flicker of hurt. “Winter?” “Huh? Oh, yeah, sure fine.” Summer watched as Winter clenched her jaw. She knew that expression, that hardening. Someone had betrayed her… again. And they were about to pay dearly for doing so. “Listen,” Winter said. “I’ve got to go, I’ll see you later, ‘kay? We really need to talk.” She said and hurried off, tension emanating off her in waves. Summer knew better than to look. For all the animosity between them, Winter trusted her not to, and today was no different. If and when Winter decided to confide – depending on her mood - she would, but Summer would not go hunting for the information. She had another job to do and she walked down the cellblock corridor. The men were lying about chatting, when she arrived. All talk stopped, however, as soon as they saw her. They came to the bars of the cells and watched her. Summer went to the first one. “Hello, Noddy, Casper.” “Ma’am.” They both murmured and she went to the next one. “Java, Feral… what’s Bulb doing?” The men shuffled until they were standing in front of a prone Bulb, who was under one of the beds. “He’s tired and is sleeping is all, ma’am.” The African-American Java said quietly as if not to awaken Bulb. Summer rolled her eyes. “Tell him to come out from under there. He can try to remove the bolts later. I wanted to ask you some questions.” Java and Feral looked at each other, and then kicked Bulb who, as if on command, started to snore.

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Summer gave the men a polite smile. “Bulb, if you don’t come out of there, I will make you.” The man continued to snore as if asleep. Java and Feral grinned at each other. Casper and Noddy pressed their faces against the bars of their cells to watch. Summer stepped back against the wall and closed her eyes. In her mind, she zeroed in on his and his view of the underside of the bunk. He hadn’t made much progress and the bolts would do nothing to help them. Even as she watched, he barked a knuckle that cut him off mid-snore. She went deeper, took control of his motor functions and drew him out. She felt him panic as she made him get to his feet and march to the bars. She walked him into them once, then twice before she released him. Her eyes opened again. The others wore expressions of shock or amusement. “Gentlemen, would you like another demonstration or shall we get down to business.” “Bulb, you rube!” Feral snarled. “Can’t you even walk straight?” “It wasn’t me! It was as if…” He slowly turned to face her, rubbing his forehead as he did so. “As if someone else was…” Horrified understanding rippled across his dark features as he stared at her and he backed up to the wall. Don’t hurt them, she heard Duncan’s voice in her head. Summer looked away from Bulb, sick at heart and disgusted with herself. But she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted. She needed to know. “Which one of you was sent to kill my sister and I?” She asked, her voice as cold as ice. The men glanced at each other, but she caught a memory flash of one of them talking to… someone who’s face was obscured by his lowered head and peaked cap. The flash came too fast for her to read the nametag. Damn. “Where’s Trio?” Java demanded. He was a large black man, with a bald head and bulging muscles that strained the material of his fatigues. “Safe. Well. Unhappy.” She replied absently as she concentrated.

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“You can’t hold us here forever, ma’am.” “No, I suppose not.” She agreed. Silence greeted her reply. Then, “So… you’re going to release us?” Java asked, suspicious. Summer nodded. “Eventually, but I need to know who the assassin is.” “None of us are.” Java said, and she knew he absolutely believed that. “So, you’re here to what?” She asked. “Rescue you.” He said, his teeth white against his skin. “Hmm. Where have I heard that before, I wonder?” “Look, lady, we’re just here to do a job, that’s all. We’re not here to hurt anyone; it’s against our code of ethics. We’re the good guys.” Java replied. “Java, would you stand in the corner, please, with your face to the wall?” He scowled at her and crossed his arms in defiance. Summer sighed. “Please, don’t make me make you.” “I ain’t making you do anything. It’s my choice to stand here with my men. It’s your choice to do whatever you choose to do.” “Do as she asks, Java,” Bulb said out the side of his mouth, “You won’t like it if she… you know, makes you.” Java simply stood there, a giant of a man, and dared her to do her worst. “Okay,” she nodded and closed her eyes. She looked into Java’s mind, felt him brace at the invasion. She wasn’t being subtle about it; she wanted him to feel her, to know she was… Summer withdrew appalled at her behaviour. She didn’t need to invade their minds. Few people guarded their surface thoughts; those they projected. Her anger, hurt and frustration drained away. “My apologies, Sergeant Sandoval.” Java’s lip curled with distaste and he turned away from her, went to his bunk. The other men followed.

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“It will do you no good to ignore me.” She said quietly, but none of them replied. Disappointed in herself, but knowing she had to do this, she proceeded with more care; a light touch here, a brush of thoughts there, searched for the image only one soldier had seen. When she found him, she opened her eyes. “I’ll leave you to your escape attempts.” She said and walked away. “Hey!” Noddy called out and she stopped, turned to him. “Is that it? You mind fuck us and then walk away?” “Corporal Culver, I now know who would have me killed. But I don’t think it fair to the others to know one of their team would commit murder. Do you?” With that, she left. *** Summer found herself at the steel door and hesitated. Could she go in and tell Trio one of his men was a would-be murderer? Would he even believe her? He would, she sighed, because he’d accepted that she was something not quite human. It didn’t matter. She would cause him pain. He thought his team held themselves to a high code of honour; believed they were the strongest, the bravest, the best at what they did. A tight knit band of brothers who would die for each other. Summer shook her head. She didn’t understand that kind of closeness. Who was she to disillusion Duncan? To break the trust he had in his men, and his men had in him? She leaned her forehead against the door. What a tangle web we weave… She, too, believed in what was good and right, but now she found herself in a quandary. But in telling the truth, she’d hurt the one man she was coming to care for. Was it so bad to withhold information Duncan could do nothing about? Yes, she decided and stood straight, he’d want to know, whether it was painful or not. If he couldn’t trust his men, then his team was compromised. She dragged in a breath, and then eased it out as she opened the door.

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Duncan tossed the ball against the wall, caught the return, tossed and caught. But he was also planning, questioning, brainstorming scenarios, his thoughts too rapid for her to garner anything useful. “Hey.” She called softly and he caught the ball, held it in his big hand. “Hey, yourself.” He said and came to the bars looked at her with those laser blue eyes, his expression unreadable. “What news?” Summer shifted her feet, uncomfortable. “Jeremy French.” She murmured and watched with an aching heart as he backed away from the cell bars, sat on his bunk and went back to tossing the ball. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, but she doubted he heard her. Like him, she’d done her duty, now it was time to withdraw. He didn’t call her back and she left, disheartened and feeling hollow. *** Duncan didn’t hear her words of apology, didn’t hear her leave; he was in shock at her revelation. He didn’t doubt her, the woman didn’t know how to lie. But… Jeremy? Casper? He couldn’t credit it. After all the years they worked together, why would he suddenly turn into a would-be murderer. What would make him turn like this? Casper came from L.A., a former gang-banger who escaped the street violence and found a home in the military. His experience in the urban jungle translated well to the shadowed back alleys of foreign cities. With sun-streaked dark hair, dusky skin and beer-coloured eyes, French blended in to the natural environment of forests, jungles and desert. The man moved with eerie silence. He was their point man, identifying the enemy to avoid – or take out. French was so good, he was like a ghost, hence his handle. So how did he get caught, unless he deliberately allowed it? A chill rippled across his skin as his understanding of how this mission could go so wrong, so quickly, settled in his mind.

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This so-called rescue was a sham, he decided, a cover to infiltrate an assassin. The mission, and he’d chosen to accept it, he thought with a humourless smile, was to capture and detain, or murder the targets. And after Casper completed the job? Why, they’d be debriefed, counselled on the loss of the targets and move on to the next mission. Or, if they succeeded in the original plan, they’d hand the women over to a higher authority, and move on, none the wiser to someone’s – and he had to assume Cosgrove’s – ultimate plan of incarceration for the sisters. He could see his team even now, celebrating another successful mission and awaiting the next one, oblivious to what was happening to the women in an undisclosed location. His mind could easily fill in the blanks, but what hurt and puzzled him the most was Casper’s betrayal of the team and the code they all worked by. And why murder them? Cosgrove understood their value. Did someone else, outside the chain of command want them dead? Duncan let the ball bounce around, got up to pace. His frustration levels climbed as fast as his sense of betrayal. What could have possessed Casper? Money? They were paid very well. Promotion? That could only come through his recommendation as Captain and Casper wasn’t ready. Blackmail? Could whoever wanted Summer and Winter dead have bribed Casper with something? Or was it much more subtle? The Casper he knew was an honourable man. Duncan dropped and started push-ups. Appealing to Casper’s sense of honour fit more than criminal behaviour. He couldn’t know until he managed to talk to the man. And he wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon. Summer would know… if only he could persuade her to help him. He looked over between the bars, but she’d gone. He’d turned away from her, just as he’d done when she’d accused him of thinking her a monster. She hadn’t given him time to explain then, or now. He’d have to wait for dinner before talking with her again, and judging by the light coming in through the window, he’d have a long wait. Well, he’d have time to form an apology, to explain and, if he let her, his thinking. Maybe he could convince her he really needed to talk to his men.

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How frightening was it for her to face her would-be killer? To look into the eyes of a man who wanted her dead for no other reason than… what? Casper was a quiet man, who focused on a mission, joined in the celebrations and then went deep-sea fishing. Duncan stopped his exercise, turned to lie flat on his back. God, he was so damned tired of these walls! It was a special kind of torture to be left to your own thoughts. He would welcome any sort of activity, if only he could shut off his mind, the hope Summer would return soon. He blew out at breath as he recalled her responses to him; the scent of her, the heat, the soft skin and scorching passion in her eyes… What would it be like to be inside her, surrounded by her? Duncan rolled onto his side and eyed the shower. He would need it cold, he mused if he kept thinking of her. She was not an ally, not yet, she was the enemy. She was too enamoured by her father to listen to him for long so he’d leave that alone for the moment. Maybe she’d be receptive if he opened up about his personal life? Invading his mind seemed anathema to her, so talking about himself might relax her enough to listen to his plans. After all, if he was willing to share a part of his home life, convince her he wasn’t the bad guy, that he had human weaknesses and triumphs, she might see him as a friend, begin to trust him. He sighed wistfully at his own calculation. It was cold, but he had to get out of here. He couldn’t fix anything locked up! All he had to do was wait for his target; just like any other mission.

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Chapter Ten “How long are we keeping the soldiers?” Summer asked. She moved the fork around the plate. The fish was perfectly poached, but she had no appetite and laid the fork down with a sigh. “Are you tired of Captain Duquesne company?” Her father asked. Summer lifted a shoulder, noted he didn’t answer her question. “I just don’t think it’s right. They’re good men, caught in a bad situation.” James leaned back in his chair. “Why is this a bad situation? I caught them breaking in, that’s criminal behaviour.” “Well, yes, but shouldn’t you call the police?” His eyebrows shot up. “I don’t wish to cause the defenders of this nation any more grief than they’ve been receiving.” On a sigh, he leaned forward, patted her hand. “Don’t worry about it, Summer. I’m in contact with General Beckett and he and I are negotiating.” He reached into the top inside pocket of his suit jacket and drew out a piece of paper. “Here the list for you. I’m keenly interested in…” “Father. Please tell me why we’re keeping them locked up!” James looked at her, startled. “Are you questioning my judgement?” Summer drew back. “Of course not. I just don’t see any point to this. It can’t be legal and…” Her voice trailed off at the spark of temper in his eyes, felt the tension rolling off him. “Summer, this is nothing to do with you and I will not be questioned this way. If Duquesne is influencing you, then I’ll have to take preventative measures.” “He’s not!” Summer protested. His anger eased into doubt. “Then why this sudden… distrust in me?” “I don’t distrust you, father,” she sighed, “I’m just concerned about the legal ramifications of holding them against their will.” “Ah, my dear, it might be against their will, but it’s not against their orders.” “The assassin.” She murmured with a shudder.

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“Would you see them free to kill you?” Summer shook her head. “Would you… would you kill one of them to protect me or your sister?” It was her turn to be startled. Kill? She stared at him, at the pained understanding in his dark eyes. Goosebumps rippled across her skin. Would she kill to protect him and Winter? She didn’t have an answer. “Summer, sweetheart, you know what would happen if the government got control of you, you know what would happen if you refused to assist them in whatever plan they had for you. You know this. You know the assassin’s identity. What would you have me do?” He lifted his shoulders. “Surely being here, safe, with me, is better than the alternative of having those men running around to hunt you again. I need to negotiate with General Beckett to ensure your safety, get him to call off the assassin.” Summer’s mouth dropped open. “He’s responsible?” James’ eyes flicked away, but not before she saw the annoyance, as if he hadn’t meant to let the General’s identity slip. “It’s a part of the negotiation.” He muttered. “I want you to live like other Americans, free and unafraid.” He said testily, but she heard the frustration, as if the ‘negotiations’ weren’t going well. “But to have a position to negotiate from, I must keep the men sequestered. Do you understand?” It all made sense and she felt a surge of disappointment. Duncan had to know and all his posturing that he didn’t was to further his teams’ aim. And to think, she’d started to trust him. His thinking her monstrous gave him the motive; if she let him out, he’d have the opportunity. He was special ops; he, or Casper would be the means. No matter that she was attracted to him – and maybe that was a part of the larger plan – she couldn’t, wouldn’t let him out until her father completed the negotiations. “I... understand, father.” She said quietly. *** Summer carried the dinner tray down to the dungeon level and wondered if she’d have to break her rule to find the truth. Her father wasn’t above manipulating her for her

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own good and neither was Duncan for his own purposes. Who was lying and why did she feel someone was lying? She backed through the steel door. She didn’t initially see Duncan but when she moved closer, she saw him lying on the bunk, an arm across his eyes. “I brought you dinner.” She said softly. He moved his arm and rolled over, gave her a smile. “Thanks. What is it?” She looked at him, puzzled by his friendly demeanour. “Lamb.” She said and placed the tray under the bars. “Ah, red meat, my favourite.” She watched as he got up and came over. Instead of retreating to his bunk, he sat down cross-legged and put the tray in his lap. “Is that sarcasm?” She asked. “Did you want something else?” Trio glanced sharply at her and she knew she’d over-reacted. “You’re not running a restaurant, here. So, no, I don’t want anything else. And I do like red meat.” Summer felt her lips twist with disgust. She was being too damn sensitive. “I’ll get your coffee,” she murmured. In the utility room, she set the coffee maker and then leaned against the counter. She was tired, she realised. This yo-yoing of her emotions was unusual for her. Every time she saw Duncan now, she felt the heat of their brief encounter, remembered his touch, his encouragement. It stirred something unfamiliar in her. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit she wanted more of the heat, to feel the total possession of this man. Her body responded to his voice, to watching his taut muscles ripple as he paced his cell, the masculine scent of him. She’d never felt this way about any man, and she knew it wasn’t like with Drew. This was something she had no control over. Blocking Duncan had no effect; her father’s words had no effect. Her body wanted, demanded more of Duncan. What she needed was a damned good fu… the coffee finished with a gust of steam and she poured him a mug, took it out to him. He accepted it with a warm smile of thanks and he continued to eat.

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She went to sit down but Winter’s distress and anger swept through her like a tornado. “Summer?” Trio asked. “I… have to go.” She said and turned. “Winter, again?” His voice held a different note, one of… sensual anticipation and she swallowed, hesitated. Winter’s rage surge through her, and she felt the dark, familiar taint of betrayal and... hurt? Duncan set the tray aside and stood. “Need some more help?” He asked in a low, seductive voice. Summer shivered at his tone, but appalled he would think her so available to him after one... unforgettable interlude. “I’ll take care of it, thank you,” she said and he shrugged with indifference. *** The Fort’s gym contained everything the guards needed to keep fit. Blue sparring mats, a black weight bag, free weights, a running machine, cycling machine and the weapons of James’ personal bodyguard, Akiko: fighting staff, two full sets of Aikido armour, long and short wooden swords and shields. Summer shuddered at the thought of the cold-eyed bodyguard. The woman never showed any expression, but her blue-green gaze was constantly assessing. Akiko didn’t like Summer or Winter and always left the gym – even in mid-workout - should one of the twins turn up. The woman refused to speak with either of them, simply bowed and left. Summer heard the sound of flesh pounding leather and glanced left. Winter belted the weight bag with fast, hard jabs. Summer saw she was in a fine temper. Her hands were bare and red as she bashed the leather bag. With a small cry of frustration, she gave the bag one last punch and looked around wildly, her eyes met Summer’s. “What are you doing here, Princess?” Winter’s jade eyes held a sneering challenge.

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Summer knew this ugly mood: her sister wanted to hurt someone, physically or emotionally, she never cared as long as she got a reaction. Maybe this was just what she needed? A good work out, a sweaty bout of violence to rid herself of her frustration and confusion; and her sister was just the woman to give her one. Casually, Summer walked into the change room and disrobed, climbed into sweats and a ragged t-shirt. When she emerged, Winter glared at her. “I wanted some privacy.” “And I wanted to work out.” She rolled her neck, rotated her shoulders. “I’m a little tense.” She wandered over to the weight bag and gave it a few experimental jabs. She wasn’t a fan of boxing, preferring other methods of fitness. But she kept hitting the leather, not really enough to move the thing, but enough that Winter gave a contemptuous snort. “You’re pitiful, you know? You’ll never move the bag unless you give it your all.” “Like you were?” Summer punched it a little harder and it swayed slightly. “You have no idea, do you? Calm Summer, sunny Summer, never-gets-pissed-off Summer. Doesn’t-need-to-defend-herself-because-she’s-so-sweet, Summer.” Summer looked at her sister. Winter paced in a wide circle, tension tight in her shoulders. Well, Summer thought, there was one way to get things started and that was the direct approach. She felt a surge of anticipation and a slight smile curved her lips. She turned away from the bag and walked over to her sister. Eyed her up and down and threw out her hip. “You don’t know me very well, do you?” She sneered. “I’m your sister, of course I know you better than anyone else.” Winter’s lip curled, matched sneer for sneer. “Yeah?” Summer’s quick punch landed flush on Winter’s jaw. She leaned over as her sister blinked up at her with astonishment.

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“Didn’t see that coming, did you.” Summer grinned and turned away. She managed to count to five before Winter tackled her from behind. She twisted and squirmed and slipped out of the hold Winter had on her. She rolled to her feet and held up her fists, waited for her sister to rise. “Oh, I’ve been looking forward to kicking your ass.” Winter growled and Summer saw the violence in her sister’s eyes. “C’mon, then, Winnie, let’s get it to it!” “No more free shots from you, Mer, and don’t fucking well call me ‘Winnie’!” Winter finished with a jab. Summer ducked back and circled. Winter went for another jab, feinted and slammed Summer in the face with a right hook. She went down like a sack of potatoes, stars speckling her vision. She shook them off, could feel her eye begin to swell. “Right, then. An eye for an eye, fair enough.” She bared her teeth. “Let’s see what else you’ve got.” *** James stared at the monitor’s screen, horrified. His daughters were… fighting! Without protective gear; without controlled movements. What did they think they were doing? He winced as Summer went down again, brushed her bleeding lip with the back of her hand, grinned and bounced up. This shouldn’t be happening! He didn’t want them to fight physically; he wanted an emotional confrontation, based on carefully manipulated half-truths and betrayals! Yes, he wanted them to hate each other, but this? No. He wanted the pressure to build between them and then explode in poisonous accusations, hurt feelings and malicious judgements. Winter’s moods were deteriorating nicely toward a final conflict, and once he made a few comments to Summer, the confrontation would happen. Then he’d toss Winter out of the Fort and Summer would be his sole concern. He gasped as Summer threw up a block and Winter slammed her fist into Summer’s midriff. Summer folded over, turned away.

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But he wasn’t ready! He reached out and pressed a button. “Yes, Sir James?” A security guard replied briskly. “I need you to get up to the gym, now! Stop those girls from beating each other to a bloody pulp.” “Yes, sir.” Was that amusement he heard in the guard’s voice? It had better not be. He watched as Winter ducked under a punch and slammed her shoulder into Summer’s mid-section, carried her forward and collided with the wall. Summer mouthed an obscenity and brought her knee up. Winter backed off, holding her bleeding nose. Her eyes though, far from being filled with rage, were alight with determination and… glee? She enjoyed beating up her sister? And Summer, his quiet, placid, respectful, obedient Summer, who now had her hands on her knees, breathing hard, was looking at Winter… with the same expression. This was wholly unexpected, he thought. He knew the girls argued, what siblings didn’t? He’d trained them to spar with each other, too, but in a controlled environment, and always without being seriously hurt. Oh, there’d been the muscle strains and aches from doing too much, bruises, too, but never had he seen them fight with such venom, with such… violence! He shook his head as they snarled at each other and started in again. Where the hell was that guard? Oh, there he is. A big bruiser of a Swede, too. Big enough to intimidate the girls into acquiescence. He couldn’t hear the guards commands, but both girls – Winter had Summer in a headlock – looked over to him. Both mouthed the same order and went back to wrestling. The guard drew his stun stick from his belt and James wondered if that was a good idea when the girls were in such a temper.

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He watched as the guard jabbed the baton into Winter’s lower back. She reeled back then collapsed as the electricity spiked through her body. Summer came up swinging and clipped the big man under the jaw. The guard staggered back and Summer went for him, used a shoulder charge into his muscled stomach. Her hands reached down to his ankle and tripped him as momentum took him backwards. The guard landed with a thump and Summer rolled away. James had to admit, he was impressed, but Summer should have stayed close, not allowed the man any leverage. Then the guard got up, fury reddening his face. James figured the man had rarely been taken down so easily, and never by a woman. Summer waited for him to come for her. She dodged and ducked and punched and turned the big man around. James saw the feral grin on the man’s face, just before he feinted with his fist and brought up the stun stick, swung it like a baton. He watched, horrified as skin split, blood flew and Summer landed face down on the mat, and didn’t rise. The guard lifted his wrist communication unit. “Targets subdued.” He said with a note of satisfaction. A fierce spike of rage coursed through James as he watched the guard walk away. He clenched his teeth and reached out for the intercom button again. “Mr Miysuki,” he said tersely, “You are needed in the gym.” “Hai.” He pushed another button. “Akiko?” “Yes, sir?” A cool voice asked. “That big Swede?” “Rolufsen, sir.” “Get rid of him. But first, let him tell you what happened in the gym, just so you’re sure your doing the right thing. Make sure the... punishment, is just as painful.”

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“As you command, sir.” James took his finger off the button, his eyes firmly on the screen as he watched Winter drag herself over to her sister, tears wet on her cheeks. The stun sticks interrupted the electrical impulses in the body. Winter would be without the use of her legs for a few hours. Winter rolled Summer onto her back and held her in her arms, tenderly stroked the mass of hair back of her sister’s bloodied face. She pressed her fingers to the gash on Summer’s cheekbone and the blood flow lessened. Rolufsen would pay dearly for this, he thought. James hoped Miysuki had something in his bag of tricks to avoid facial scarring. But what disturbed him most of all was his girls capacity for violence. And Winter’s tender care. He now understood that he wasn’t as close to separating the twins as he thought. James watched and wondered and planned until his personal physician came in with attendants to take the girls away. Then he turned the monitors off. He needed to get back to Beckett’s latest demands; demands he had no intention of honouring.

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Chapter Eleven Duncan opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, feeling out of sorts. He rolled out of bed and began his exercises, wondered why he should feel any different today than yesterday, or the day before, or tomorrow. When he was done, he showered, dressed and waited for Summer and breakfast. His hand rubbed his furry jaw. A razor was out of the question. He always looked like a rogue whenever he grew a beard. Hell, it wasn’t as if he had a choice. And that brought his thoughts to his boys. He heard the steel door open and approached the bars. Then he realised what he was doing and eased back to the wall and slid down. A picture of repose. He stared at blonde-haired man in a black uniform who walked into view and slid the tray under the door. “Where’s Summer?” Duncan asked before he could stop himself. “Recuperatin’.” The man’s southern accent drawled. “From what?” He got to his feet. “She and that bitch of a sister of hers got into it last night.” “Is she alright?” He tried to temper the concern in his voice and failed. The man smirked and jammed his fists on his hips. “Gave each other a right canin’.” “So…” Duncan said and picked up the tray. “Who won?” His money was on Summer, she was a wily one, but then Winter was an unknown quantity to him. Summer had barely mentioned her, and only when she was… “Rolufsen.” Duncan paused in shovelling the overcooked eggs into his mouth. “Who?” “One of the guards. Had a little fun and sorted ‘em.” The guard leaned companionably against the bars. “Wish I’d seen it. Always did like a good cat fight, and them girls? The way they look? Rippin’ into each other, tearin’ off each other’s clothes, nekkidness?” He laughed in a purely masculine way. “Woulda been a sight t’ see.”

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“A real slap fest, then.” Duncan was appalled, but he didn’t let it show. What could have possessed them? Maybe they were both under too much pressure from James. He had no idea what Winter was doing, but he knew Summer felt the strain. Maybe they’d simply decided to exercise off a bit of that tension. He knew the adrenalin always left him feeling terrific. “Oh, hell, no.” The guard laughed. “Them girls are trained in all sorts of martial arts; boxing, wrestling, all sorts of self defence. Full body contact; a’fists a’flyin’, knock down, drag out, bone-breaking brawl.” Duncan swallowed. “You’re kidding.” “Nup. They’re lethal weapons, those two. Hell of a thing.” He shook his head. “’cordin’ to Rolufsen, they weren’t pullin’ the punches, neither. Damn bitches’ll be ugly this mornin’. You finished with that?” He nodded to the tray and Duncan slid it back under the bar. “Thanks,” he murmured and went back to his bunk to think about this turn of events. *** Summer awoke slowly, every inch of her body one big, pulsing ache. It took her a moment to recall why. Winter. In a pissy mood, looking for a fight and... The guard. She managed to get one eye open, but the other was firmly swollen shut. Winter had slammed her a good one with that fist of hers. She groaned as she tried to sit up. Damn, but she hurt. Someone had brought her back to her room. With one eye, she glanced around at the white French colonial furniture. Carefully, she put her legs over the side of the bed and cautiously stood. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she put one hand out to the side table, the other hand went to her forehead and brushed the gauze covering her cheekbone. A rush of love for her sister coursed through her and a wry grin tried to sneak past her cut lip. They’d both given as good as they got. She’d thump the daylights out of Winter any day, and she really, really, hoped Winter was in the same…

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She brought her head up then closed her eye against the fierce throbbing in her skull. The guard, he’d… zapped Winter! She’d gone down like a puppet with the strings cut. That’s when she’d… yeah, gone after the big brute. And he’d cheated. Her fingers brushed the gauze; the cut underneath stung and she felt the irregular bumps of stitches. Summer made her way to the bathroom. Once there, she turned the light on, eased over to the mirror and stared at her battered face. “Jesus wept!” She whispered. Black and red bruises covered the right side of her face. The left had a couple of scrapes and a knuckle imprint on her jaw, but it was nothing compared to the right side. She slowly shook her head and peeled off her nightgown. Purple black bruises decorated her ribcage. She recalled being slammed against the wall and turned. Sure enough, more black bruises blossomed across the middle of her back and down to her hip. Gingerly, she made her way to the shower. Maybe the heat would help. She let out a sigh of relief as the hot water gently massaged her aching body from both sides of the stall. She looked down at her stinging hands. Her knuckles felt tight, swollen and scraped. She and her sister really did a number on each other, and for what? Summer rolled her neck. Because they needed it; needed each other and trusted each other not to do permanent harm. The pressure on both of them had finally exploded, but for different reasons. She wondered if Winter would tell her what caused her anger and distress? For herself, well, she’d started the brawl out of a need to help Winter; in the end, though, she’d gotten into it just as much as her sister had; had needed the release just as much. Relaxed and in less pain, Summer shut of the shower and took her time in towelling off and dressing. Loose clothes today, she didn’t think she could bear anything tight. Out in her bedroom, Winter lay on her bed, looking every bit as bad as Summer imagined.

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“Well, don’t you look like the Wreck of the Hesperus?” Her sister said with wry coolness. Summer tried a slight smile. “And you look like someone kicked the tripe out of you.” She cocked her head. “Wait, wasn’t that me?” Winter’s smile was small because of the stitches in her bottom lip. “It was fun, though, don’t you think?” Summer made her way back and lay down next to Winter, the pillows propped behind her. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, “Until that gorilla jumped us.” “My legs are still a bit wobbly.” “And I feel like I’ve run into a brick wall.” She touched the gauze again. “You did. His name is Rolufsen.” They both giggled and fell into companionable silence. Then giggled again. “Next time, I’ll simply kick him in the balls.” Summer said. “Yeah, you kick one side, I’ll kick the other. Between us, the family jewels won’t be so precious any more.” Summer sighed. “You okay?” “Yeah. You?” “I’ve been better. I feel like that time you made the metal horse out of some scrap? You remember that?” “Yeah, you climbed aboard and I made it buck and rear. Tossed you right off. Caught hell for it, too.” Winter murmured. “God. Father was so angry.” Summer remembered his rage, the shouting was the worst; it went on for days even though Summer was only bruised. “He get pissed at you, too?” Winter asked with surprise. “Well, of course he did. ‘Don’t have the brains of gnat’, ‘could have been killed’, ‘stupid little mutant’, you know the drill.” Summer murmured quietly. “Mutants together.”

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“I thought he was going kill us.” “He had my bags packed and ready to go.” “He what? No, he didn’t.” Summer gasped and stared at Winter, saw the truth in Winter’s tear-sheened eyes. “He was going to toss me out. I begged and pleaded with him not to and he said I was a danger to you because of my wilful recklessness and irresponsible disregard for my talent. He made me swear never to hurt you – or to tell you – otherwise, he’d do more than simply throw me out. I’d never seen him so… cold, so calculating. It was brutal.” Winter smoothed her hands down her denim-clad thighs. “I’ve done it now, though.” “We did this to each other, Winter. If you go, I go, too.” The smile was brief. “He’ll never let you go, Mer, you’re too precious to him, too vital to his ambitions. Me, he’ll get rid of without a thought. But you?” Winter turned her head and stared into Summer’s eyes. “He would never have the success he’s got without you. And, for whatever reason, he feels he needs more from you. You’re his touchstone, his good luck charm, the lynchpin of his empire. Only you can truly safeguard him against those who’d do him harm.” “No. That’s not true, you’re just as important.” Summer said, but Winter was already shaking her head in denial. “You are!” “Summer,” Winter sighed, “sometimes I wonder where your head is at. Let me ask you this: when you and Father were off exploring and improving your talent, what do you think I was doing?” “The same, but with someone else.” Summer said. “Father said your unique talent need a unique teacher.” Winter’s laugh was bitter. “Not a chance, Mer.” She stared up at the ceiling. “You may not have noticed, but Father doesn’t like me much.” “Personality clash. You’re a lot like him.” Winter tensed beside her. “That is a really stupid thing to say, Mer.” Winter massaged her thighs. “Anyway, while you were off being brilliant, I was putting my ‘skills’ to good use.”

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“Who was your teacher?” “The cleaners, the gardener, the chauffeur, the chef…” Summer chuckled and Winter rolled off the bed, glared at her. “Don’t you get it, Summer? No-one taught me to use my talent, I learned by myself. Our precious father forbid me to use it; he thought it would go away! Then I made that stupid horse.” “But…” Winter threw up her hands. “Oh, grow up, Summer! You are the golden child and I’m an irritating appendage used to keep you in line!” “Keep me in line?” Summer carefully got off the bed. “Come on, Winter. How does that work?” “If he tossed me out, because I was… I don’t know, old enough to be on my own and that’s what he’ll tell you. What would you do?” “That’s easy, I’d…” Winter cut her off. “Be honest, Summer.” She huffed out a frustrated breath. “Probably continue on as I am.” She said. “But I’d visit.” “You cannot be that naïve, Summer. He’ll never let you near me, because we’d have this conversation then rather than now. And you’d see him for the evil bastard he truly is.” “Whoa, Winter, he’s not that bad.” “Yes, he is. But obviously I’m not going to convince you, because he’s brainwashed you so thoroughly.” “I’m not brainwashed.” Summer rolled her eyes. “No? What about all this shit you pull with his businesses, giving him an unfair advantage or blackmail material? What about all the times you failed to argue with him when you knew, knew, Summer, what he asked of you was wrong? All the times you’ve excused his behaviour, justified his actions, helped him do evil? What about us, locked

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up in this godforsaken Fort guarded night and day, never allowed to leave?” Winter ended with an angry shout. Summer stared at her. This wasn’t the furious anger of the other night, this was the frustrated pleading of a sister. But she couldn’t be right. Her father was a good man. “I haven’t…” But she had failed to make her point with her father. Last night, when she asked about the men and he’d fobbed her off, been irritated, let slip General Beckett’s name. She’d excused his behaviour and his actions, too. Whenever he gave her list, he explained that one of his businesses was in peril of a takeover, or baseless investigation, asked her to find out information; and she had. In doing so, she’d saved that business. Was that wrong of her? And the last accusation? That their father had locked them up here? She didn’t feel like a prisoner. Her thoughts went to Duncan in his cell. Then to the surrounding Fort. When was the last time she’d been beyond the walls? When was the last time she’d asked to leave? Everything she needed or wanted could be accessed right here, from the Internet; she had no need to leave. But Winter? Her gaze went to her sister. The fiery green eyes were dulled, as if expecting Summer to deny everything. Whom did she trust more? Her father who cared for her, who trained and educated her, who loved her without condition, gave her everything and anything she wanted; or the sister who for years, constantly battled with her father, sniped at her, eased her unhappiness with bitter, hateful remarks and absences, as if she couldn’t bear to be around Summer? She loved them both, but grew tired of being in the middle of a decades-long war of words. She felt a little guilty looking at that battered face; her doing. Then lifted a finger to brush her own cut lip. She had no idea what the consequences of yesterday’s fight would be, but she knew they’d be harsh. If what Winter said was true, she’d be banished from the Fort altogether. Summer would receive another lecture, made to feel guilty. Would she work harder as penance as she’d done so many times before when her father was unhappy with her?

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Here they were, just like when they were children, awaiting punishment together. How did they reconcile? How did she make peace break out between Winter and her father? “I’m in love with a man who despises me.” Winter said into the silence. Summer nearly cracked her neck she turned so fast. “What?” Winter’s chuckle was sad. “Captain Justin Alastair Beech, known as ‘Sandy’.” “You can’t be! You’ve only known him a few days!” Winter turned to her. “Have you ever been in love?” “Well, no.” “Then don’t tell me what I can and can’t be.” There was no venom in Winter’s tone, only resignation. “What are you going to do?” She asked, her heart aching for her sister. “I don’t know. He wants me to let him go, and I can’t do that. I’ve explained to him what would happen if he did escape, but he doesn’t believe me. He figures Father’s been filling my head with doom and gloom and the government’s not likely to kill us. I think he sees us living free, uncontrolled by Father, free to choose and no longer prisoners. The idiot.” “Trio’s the same.” “Trio?” Summer’s face heated with embarrassment, throbbed painfully under the bruises.“Um, Duncan. Captain Duquesne.” Summer’s shoulders slumped. “He doesn’t think much of me.” Winter began massaging her thighs again, sat on the side of the bed. “Are you in love with him?” “No. I don’t know what love is, remember?” Summer dropped down on the bed. “You will when it smacks you between the eyes.” “That sudden, huh?”

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Winter nodded. “That sudden.” She paused in rubbing her muscles. “It feels wonderful and frightening at the same time. It’s not being able to wait to talk to him, to laugh with him, to argue and make up. It’s… uncomfortable, nice, warming and chilling at the same time.” She laughed a little self-conscious. “I don’t know that I can explain it, but he makes me feel safe, wanted as I’ve never been wanted before.” “Sounds scary.” “It is.” Summer tilted her head. “No, I don’t feel that way about Trio. He pisses me off, challenges me, attracts me… on an intellectual basis of course, not… you know.” “Yeah, I know that feeling.” She sighed. “Mer, I slept with Sandy, too.” “I know.” Summer said and winced at the slip. “You do?” Winter turned to her in surprise. If they were going to do confessions, Summer figured she’d better ‘fess up. “You and I, we have a connection, Winter, deeper than normal twins.” “Yeah, so? How does that… You peeked!” “Did not!” The heat in her face worsened until a headache bloomed. “I didn’t have to!” “You wanna explain?” Winter asked, wary. “I didn’t believe telling you this would be so… embarrassing.” Summer mumbled and lifted a hand to her face, as if to ease the aching. It didn’t work. “Spill it, sister mine, or I’ll blacken the other eye.” “Another black eye would balance me out, don’t you think?” “You’re not distracting me from this, Summer.” “No, I guess not.” She dragged in a careful breath and eased it out again. “Okay. Here it is: when you’re… ah… God! Okay. When you’re distressed or bloody well aroused, it like it’s happening to me, too, okay? So when you and he were… I… felt… jeez, this is difficult. You got me going too, okay? There, I’ve said it.” She found she couldn’t look at Winter, but felt her sister’s gaze on her.

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“Well, shit.” Winter said, and then laughed. “And this happens every time?” “Yes.” Summer replied, with offended dignity. Winter was laughing again, as if it were the best joke she’d ever heard. “It’s not funny!” Summer retorted. “Yeah, it is.” Winter giggled. “It’s not! You can’t imagine the places I’ve been when you and some guy are off in the corner…” Winter tried for a sober expression. “So where were you when I was with Sandy?” Mortification rose, but she didn’t say anything; didn’t need to anyway because Winter guessed. “Oh, my Lord, you were with Duquesne!” Summer wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go, and she had to face this, couldn’t let her sister go through this… awkwardness alone. If a little embarrassment soothed her sister, well, she’d manage. The funny thing was, once she’d decided to let down some of the barriers with Winter, she felt more at ease than she had in a long time. And Winter, too, wasn’t reacting the way Summer expected. It was as if they were kids again, telling each other everything that concerned them. She had no illusions they could return to those days, but she felt they were coming to a better understanding of each other. Winter touched her knee. “How was it?” She asked with a sly grin. “Um… well...” She pokered up. “I’m not discussing my sex life with you.” Winter gurgled with delight. “That’s right, you can’t do locks.” She tilted her head. “So how did you manage it? Was it really sex or…” she rolled her hand. “Not sayin’.” Summer mumbled as images of the encounter returned with nervetingling clarity. Winter studied her. “You know? I think I can picture it. I wonder if Sandy…” Her face turned sad and she lowered her head.

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Summer brushed her hand over Winter’s hair. “What is it, Winter? How has he hurt you?” Winter carefully climbed off the bed without saying anything. “Winter?” She turned around, tears glimmering in the depths of her jade eyes. “By being cruel, Summer. He’s not an easy man to love, but I can’t help myself. And his rejection hurts as much as the accusations.” “Of?” Winter gave her weak smile. “Same as you, Mer, he accused me of being a monster, and therefore being capable of doing monstrous things.” “Do you think we’ll ever find happiness?” Summer sighed. Winter shook her head. “No, Summer, I don’t. Because of who and what we are, people will always want to control us. To use us for their own ends; I don’t think we’ll ever find peace as long as we are amongst those who know our capabilities.” “What are you suggesting?” “That we get the hell out of Dodge. Go some place were we don’t have to explain ourselves, or what we can do…” “Go into hiding, you mean.” “Yeah. Mutants together.”

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Chapter Twelve Summer slept the day away and by nightfall felt better; not perfect, but improved. Mr Miysuki had given her some wonderful tonics to drink and she’d soaked in the spa to ease the sore muscles. The Asian medic explained he’d put six stitches in the laceration along her cheekbone, two in her lip, and another three above her eyebrow. He’d done similar work on Winter, and clucked his tongue at the violence done, even as he admired their strength of purpose to fight, survive, win. He being the peaceful man who’d trained them, of course. She resisted the urge to go to the dungeon, to Duncan, she didn’t want to know what he thought of them fighting and she was sure he would lecture her, like her father had done this afternoon. He hadn’t been as virulent as she’d expected; disappointed, yes, shocked at the result of the fight, but he’d… accepted it as a part of who they were, forever testing each other. Summer hadn’t raised the topic of Winter with him, she was perfectly capable of keeping an eye on her sister and would know if she planned to leave. She was determined Winter would not leave without her, whether she liked it or not. And if her father moved to do something, anything to Winter, again, she’d intervene. For the first time, Summer acknowledged that she was more loyal to her twin than she was to her father and while that thought unsettled her, she knew in her soul to be true. Tonight, she still felt tired, though less achy. She figured she’d be more able to cope with Duncan in the morning. Maybe she’d take him a book to read, or at least ask him if he wanted one. Winter had given her a new resolve, she realised, to test and weigh the emotions behind the words. To seek out the truth rather than accept what another said. Duncan, she thought as she snuggled beneath the covers, was a safer bet to try out her resolve.

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She fell asleep thinking of him, and what they’d done together, before she glimpsed Noddy in his mind and with the words he’d said to her: Don’t hurt them… *** Duncan came awake at the sound of the door opening. He’d tuned in to whoever opened the door: Summer, slow and quiet and Sanders, the guard, quick and noisy. This morning, he heard slow and easy. Summer returned and he was surprised at how much he’d missed her. A day and a night felt like a week, a month, forever. He rolled out of bed - he’d shower later - for now he was… was… “Mother of God!” “Morning, Trio.” She said, her eyes lit with amusement at his shock as she slid his tray under the bar. He ignored it as he stared at her battered face. He slowly shook his head at the damage. Some of it looked like it would scar, especially the row of stitches along her cheek. The right side of her face was swollen, her eye barely open and the bruises, shades of angry red, sickly purple-yellow with black, turned beauty into a mess. He turned away as outrage seared through him. When he’d composed himself enough to turn back, she was still there, no longer amused, but holding out a mug of coffee to him, her head lowered so he couldn’t see the damage. God, how could she break his heart with just one expression of vulnerability? “Are you okay?” He asked huskily and accepted the mug, wrapped his hands around its warmth. “I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Enjoy your breakfast.” And she went to move away. “No, wait. Please.” God, he was bungling this! He attempted a smile, but it died a quick death. “Sit with me?” “I don’t want you to be offended.” She said without turning around. “Knee jerk reaction, that’s all.” He moved closer. “When someone gets a beating, it raises all sorts of protective instincts in me. And sweetheart, you are beat to shit.” She lifted a shoulder. “We pulled our punches.” “You did? Man, you’d be lethal if for real then.”

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“I didn’t want to kill her, for Heaven’s Sake, just…” “Just?” Duncan leaned on the bars, enjoying his coffee. “Stress.” She said, still without looking at him. “It was a stress reliever. For both of us. That’s all.” This was new. Why did they feel stressed unless… hmm, his superiors must be applying a lot of pressure to get them released. She stared at him, unsure, but moved to the cell bars. He winced as he got a closer look at her injuries. He reached through the bars and gently brushed the knuckle print on her jaw. “Right hook?” “Yeah, that’s how I knew she was in a mean mood.” He lifted his fingers to her eyebrow, traced her face with barely a touch, but could still feel the heat of bruised flesh. Finally, he rested the pad of his index finger on her cut lip. “She look like this, too?” “Not quite.” “Damn.” He muttered. “I had my money on you.” Summer gave him a lopsided smile. “It was a draw.” He set his mug of coffee on the ground and reached through the bars, gently cupped her face. “Does it hurt much?” He asked and her hands came up to rest on his forearms. Her warm touch sent shivers racing over his skin. “Not so much, now.” She replied softly and he smiled. “How can I kiss it better if it doesn’t hurt?” Damn, she delighted him with her naivety and honesty. “Um…” He eased her closer and leaned down to brush his mouth across hers. “Better?” “I… Um…” she whispered, so he did it again, pressed a little firmer, testing with his lips.

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“How about now?” Her tongue flicked out across her lower lip. “Yes, better, I think.” She acknowledged and looked into his eyes. There was a wealth of expression in there, more than he could decipher, and more than he could manfully shoulder. He kissed her bruises and cuts and abrasions, the knuckle mark – and that impressed him, that mark. He didn’t stop until he’d covered her face with kisses. Then he lifted his head; his control wasn’t as steady as he expected. Much more and she’d shred it completely. He wanted her beneath him, buried deep inside her, with those long legs wrapped around him and her gorgeous hair spread out over the pillow. He wanted her to call his name when she came, he wanted… Duncan swallowed hard, tried to banish the images. He lifted his gaze from her abused mouth to her eyes. She had a curiously vulnerable expression on her face. “Do you really see me that way?” “What way is that, honey?” “In your bed?” Oops, he thought and when she smiled, he winced. “Oops, indeed.” He waited for the cold rush of fear, of disbelief, but it didn’t and he finally accepted. “Can you not do that? You said you wouldn’t peek.” “I’m not peeking. You’re projecting.” She said. “There’s a difference?” He turned away for a moment, adjusted his crotch, and then lowered to the ground. He lifted the tray into his lap, began eating the cooling Eggs Benedict. “Yes,” she said and joined him on the ground, though it pained her to move. He made no comment; he wanted her talking, not defensive. “Most people are quite noisy with their thoughts. It’s as if they’re trying to drown out their real voice.” She began. “Real voice?” He asked.

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“Yes.” She dragged in a breath, eased it out slowly. “It’s something I haven’t listened to in a long while.” She said. “Even as I stole thoughts from others, I blocked my own real voice. I’m either blind or stupid. Maybe both.” She murmured. Duncan wanted to understand. “And this real voice? What is it that makes it so important?” Summer touched her mouth with a finger and Duncan’s gaze followed the movement. “I guess you’d call it the conscience. It’s the part in all of us that knows instinctive when they’re doing something wrong, or immoral, like lying, cheating, blaming, things like that. If only more people listened to the voice, they’d be quieter, less prone to emotional outbursts and erroneous decisions and choices.” Duncan nodded. He actually understood her, though he called it ‘instinct’. “Most of it is surface clutter, lists of things to do, plans of meetings, arguments had, timetables, conversations, and the like. It’s that stuff which is the noisiest because it’s free-flowing, unstructured and uncontrolled. Not many people actually think before speaking and then talk over others. No conversation is ever you speak, I speak. It’s you give half a sentence and someone will cut in with their own words.” Duncan was thoughtful as he finished his lukewarm, but still wonderful Eggs Benedict and set the tray aside before picking up his coffee. “Go on, I’m with you so far.” Summer tucked a curl of silky dark hair behind her ear. “Okay. People actually push those thoughts, as if emphasising the words, the emotions behind them, to convince the recipient of their integrity, even when they’re not completely truthful – through body language and facial expressions.” “So, you can tell when I’m lying?” “Mostly. Lying has a… resonance to it. You know, like it rings false when spoken? It’s similar in thought, too. I’ve learned to block people out; I’ve had to otherwise I’d go mad with the noise. If I looked deep into your thoughts and motivations, I could detect a lie, but I’ve learned to be selective; otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to help Father. And I’ve not been as attentive as I should be to that real voice.” He noted that her unbruised cheek was beginning to turn pink and he wondered why. Was she admitting she hadn’t paid close enough attention to her father?

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“With you, being so close, and both of us somewhat relaxed, I didn’t have the barrier up as well as I should have. I’m sorry.” She said quickly. “Don’t be. I like your explanation. And it should be me who apologises for thinking you would…” he shrugged. “I’m a man. We think about sex all the time.” “Hmm.” She agreed, with a wry smile. “And, I confess, I think about sex with you all the time. What we did wasn’t enough. But sadly, you’re in no condition to…” He meant it as a joke, but she gave him a gimlet eye. “Don’t make it a challenge, Trio.” She said and his eyebrows rose. Duncan grinned. “You’re not one of those people who can’t resist a dare, are you?” “Depends on the dare.” She replied with a shrug. He smiled at her. “Any chance of talking to my men?” “Why?” He lifted a shoulder. “I’d like to see to their welfare, to ease their minds that I’m okay, and to… talk to Casper.” He didn’t really expect a positive answer, but she cocked her head and slowly nodded. “Okay. I think I can set up a telephone line.” “Really?” “Why not?” She said and gripped the bars, used them to slowly climb to her feet. He heard her quietly groan and suppressed a smile. He knew the constant ache of deep bruises. When Duncan pushed the tray out, with the mug on top, she carried it away without another word. He waited impatiently for her return, paced his cell, wondered how his men were, tried to work out Casper’s motives. Summer returned mid-morning, held a white handset out to him.

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“Just press the black button and it will connect you. But, Trio?” She said as he frowned at her. “I’ll be monitoring both ends of the call. I gave the same warning to your men.” “Fair enough.” He said and sat on the bunk, his back against the stone wall. He pressed the button and waited for someone to answer. It was Java. “Hey, Java, how’s it hangin’?” He asked cheerfully and glanced over at Summer. She sat against the far wall with her eyes closed. He saw the concentration on her face. “Did you try to escape, boss? Is that what happened? Did you do that to her?” Java’s voice was cold, venomous. “Christ, no, Java. I don’t hit women unless they hit me first, you know that!” Java paused; Duncan could hear him breathing. Then, “Damn, if it was that father of hers, he’s a mongrel dog that needs killin’.” “Not the father, Java, it was the sister.” “No shit!” “I shit you not.” Duncan replied quietly. “So, Java, onto more immediate concerns. How’s everyone holding up?” “We’re bored more than anything else. Casper and Noddy got into it some, but it’s sorted now. We’ve been over this cell like ants on sugar, but we can’t find a way out. Have you had any luck, sir? We gonna get out of here any time soon?” Java’s deep voice rumbled in his ear. “I don’t know, Jav, I’m working on it.” He said as his gaze involuntarily roamed over Summer’s quiet form. “Let me speak with Casper.” “Sure thing, boss. It’s good to hear your voice.” While he waited, Duncan watched Summer’s slow breathing, the rise and fall of her breasts. Despite the beauty that lay under her bruises, she looked tired and on the edge of sleep. But he didn’t underestimate her, didn’t underestimate her talent.

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“Is she there?” Casper’s voice whispered in his ear. Duncan saw Summer’s body twitch at Casper’s question. “Yes.” He said quietly, and then had another thought. “But she’s asleep. Hell of a beating she took.” “Yeah, well, whoever did it didn’t follow through, in my opinion.” Casper grumbled. “Why’s that?” “Because if she were dead, we’d have a better chance of getting out of here.” “How do you figure that?” Duncan felt a chill run up his spine at the cold calculation in his man’s voice. How could he have misjudged Casper so badly? “The male guards might be more co-operative, for a start. And they’re not likely to freeze us where we stand.” Duncan felt his eyebrows climb. “What did she do, Casper?” “Bulb. She made him come out from under the bed and ran him into the bars a few times, just because she could. Tried it with Java, too, but he resisted. So I figure she’s not infallible, not as powerful as we were given to believe. If we all gang up on her, she can only take one of us at a time and we’ll overpower her. Then we just pick up the sister, and we’re outta here.” “And the rest of the guards?” Duncan asked. “We get ourselves an ally who’ll give us back the tranqs. There’s one, blond and blue, about five eight. He’s always here asking questions about special operations, the military. I think he’s looking at joining up. We can use him, I know we can.” “He’ll be the one to open the doors, too.” Duncan murmured. “Show us where everything we need is, where Winter is, where Summer is and lead us out.” “That’s the plan, boss. Once we’re out, they won’t take us by surprise again. The key is that mind-fucking bitch. We need to neutralise her and fast before she can raise the alarm. I gotta plan for that, too.” “Better tell me quick.” Duncan ordered.

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“Well, we can lure her closer, hold her against the bars until one of the guards come to let us out. She’ll be scared shitless at what Special Ops guys could do to her once we have her, she won’t be able to do her mojo.” “But what about the ally guard?” “I’m doing the best I can, sir, I’m trying to come up with plans A, B and C.” “Yeah, well, good work. Can you put Java back on, please?” “Yes, sir. And don’t worry, we’ll be with you and Captain Beech soon.” “Thank you, Corporal.” Duncan said, his heart heavy with disappointment. He looked over to Summer. She wore a sick expression, but kept her eyes closed and he wondered what Casper was truly thinking. “Sir.” Java’s bass voice said. “Keep an eye on Casper, he’s not as loyal as you think.” “Sir?” “Listen carefully: he came here to kill Summer and Winter, Jamahl. Someone’s got to him.” “I don’t follow.” Java sounded puzzled. “Is it true what he said about you resisting Summer’s talent?” He heard shuffling on the other end of the phone and figured his Sergeant had found himself a quiet corner. “I just presented the choices, sir,” Java replied. “She asked me to move. I refused. She said she’d make me and I said that was her choice, but my choice was to stand with my men.” “What did she do?” “Nothing, sir. She let me be. And Bulb? That idiot never sounded like he was snoring. Any dopey mutt could tell he was faking it. She never harmed anything but his pride. Scared him some, is all.” “Do you think she’s dangerous?”

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“Yes, sir, without a doubt.” “Do you think she and her sister should be assassinated?” Silence greeted his question, but he knew Java was thinking seriously about his answer before he gave it. He was, as Summer had indicated, one of those people who let his true voice through, and that made him not only a valuable asset, but a trusted one, too. “No, sir. Under our terms of engagement as you explained them to us, that would be murder.” “Then keep watch on Casper for me, okay?” “Yes, sir.” “Thanks, Java. I’m doing what I can, but I don’t know how this will end or when.” “With the good guys winning, as always, sir and as soon as possible.” Java replied cheerfully and hung up. Duncan pensively pressed the disconnect button. “Your Mr Casper is a psychopath.” Summer said hoarsely. “Worse, he’s sick with it. What he wants to do to me doesn’t bear thinking about.” She opened her eyes and leaned back against the wall. “He didn’t guard his thoughts, did he?” She slowly shook her head. Duncan tapped the phone against his forehead. “You know, he always wanted to be the one to take out any enemy guards. He was so good at it, I just kept using him for the job.” “He enjoys killing, enjoys the slide of cold metal into flesh, the hot rush of…” She blew out a breath. Duncan found he could see what she meant. See Casper in action, killing quietly. “What about Java?” He asked. “He’s a good man, Trio. You’re right to trust him.” “Was what he said true?”

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“Yes.” She confessed. “It sounds like Bulb was an idiot. But, he’s excellent in a firefight.” “I guess I was a little angry when I went in there and wanted to scare them. To demonstrate what I could do if they didn’t do as I said.” He heard the regret in her tone. “Duncan, I used my power like a cop wields his nightstick on unarmed people.” “You need more rest.” He said softly and offered her the phone through the bars. “Thank you, for this.” She waved him off. “Keep it. I’m sure you’ll need to talk more with your men.” Duncan frowned at her. “You do realise there are things in this phone that a trained man can use to escape, to kill with?” “Probably, but you won’t be escaping. Have you not looked at the lock?” “Yes, I just figured it to be a false lock or magnetic.” She shook her head. “Electronic?” “No, Duncan, look closer.” He squatted down, but couldn’t believe what he saw what he felt under his fingertips, yet there it was: the black square wasn’t detachable after all and it hadn’t been attached later. The joins were smooth, blended with the bars. “A false lock. Ingenious.” He murmured and began to follow each bar. “No, that’s the true lock.” “Can’t be. It was manufactured as a single piece.” He argued, and then noted where the bars joined the stonework, or, more precisely, blended into the stonework. “This is impossible.” “No, that is Winter.” He turned to look at her. She was dead serious. “If you believe I read minds, Duncan, you can believe Winter has a more… functional power.”

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He stared at her, stared at the bars and the sandstone. “All the cells are the same, Trio. They can only be opened one way, and that’s by Winter power. She’s the key, not me. Now you see why escaping was never an option.” She slowly got to her feet. “I’m going to get some rest now.”

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Chapter Thirteen Summer felt vaguely ill at what she’d seen in Casper’s head. She vowed never to get within reach of him; or the others, for that matter. They were hard men, focused men, dangerous men and while she knew their surface thoughts, Casper’s was the worse, he didn’t even try to hide his primitive side. James voice interrupted her thoughts as she walked over the Aubusson carpet towards the library. “Summer? Would you come in here, please?” He called from inside his office. She sighed, but complied. What she really wanted was to find a nice comfortable couch and a good book. If nothing else, she needed some of Mr Miysuki’s Willow Tea for the headache that pounded behind her eyes. “Yes, Father?” She asked as she walked into James’ office. He nodded that she should take a seat and she gratefully eased her aching body into the plush leather. James, looking every bit the executive in his dove-grey three-piece suit, rested his hands on the desktop blotter. As he regarded her, Summer shifted uncomfortably. “How are you feeling today?” He asked. “A little sore and sorry for myself.” She lifted a hand, dropped it. “With Mr Miysuki’s help, it will pass.” “Good, good.” He said, though his words felt more automatic than genuine concern. “A business issue has arisen that requires my personal attention. I shall have to leave you and Winter for a couple of days.” He announced and the tension in her shoulders eased. “You do?” She asked, surprised. He rarely left Patriot’s Fort, trusting his managers to take care of business. Of course, if he had his doubts, he called upon her to find the truth. She discovered a few of the managers embezzling and her father had them sent to prison as an example.

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He gave her a nod. “It’s an internal staffing matter in South America.” “What about General Beckett and his men? The negotiations?” She asked, alarmed. James gave her a warm smile. “My secretary, Mr Chambers, will be dealing with that. I’ve left him instructions. So you keep to your… hostess role, and make Captain Duquesne as comfortable as possible.” He leaned back in his chair, a faint smile curving his mouth. “It shouldn’t be too long. This mess should be sorted out by the time I return.” Summer sensed a glow of satisfaction from him. “Of course, Father.” “In fact, General Beckett has asked to meet you.” “But… he wanted us dead!” James chuckled. “Not anymore, Summer. I found a solution to the problem. I’ve convinced him you’re more valuable alive than dead. He’s now interested in you consulting with the military.” “Oh!” She gasped and her thoughts raced at the potential. Consult? Not control? It was perfect! She and Winter would have the freedom and safety her father wanted for them and the military would have a covert intelligence source. 9/11 need never happen again! She could work with… She cut the thought off, but she trembled with excitement. “We’ll charge accordingly for your talents, of course.” James went on and she frowned at him. It’s not the money,” he said quickly, “you know that, it’s the influence, Summer. The influence I can achieve. I want so much for you, and this is a wonderful opportunity.” “And Winter. You want much for Winter, too.” She clarified. James smiled at her strangely. “Yes, that’s what I said.” She nodded with a sense of unease and he leaned forward. “Now then, the helicopter will be leaving in an hour to take me to the airport and I still need to brief Winter.” At his dismissal, she rose. “Yes, Father.”

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“Thank you.” He said without inflection, as if he’d already moved on to another topic. Summer dragged her battered body upstairs and had a long soak in the spa, sipped the wonderful Willow Tea Mr Miysuki made for her. Such a lovely, quiet man. But the middle-aged Japanese was lethal. Still waters, she mused. Like Duncan. How would he react to her announcing a peace deal between her father and General Beckett? That she might be working intelligence? How was it different from business? She moved lower in the water, grinned. Oh, what a challenge! Something new. She hadn’t realised how staid business was until she started thinking about this new work; the travel, the experience of new cultures, different peoples. Now, thanks to her father, she’d enter a new exciting environment. She’d have the opportunity to stop bad stuff happening to good people. “Oh, boy.” Summer murmured. She’d have to learn new languages. She knew French, of course, and German. But to work with America’s allies, she’d have to learn… what? Middle-Eastern languages? She lifted a hand out of the water and saw her finger pads were pruning. It was time to drag her butt out of the water and start lunch, she decided. But she’d keep this new development quiet, until some sort of formal agreement was reached. She didn’t want to jinx the negotiations. Trio was almost in the same position as she’d left him in: studying the bars of his cell. He accepted the tray with a murmur of thanks and she went to make him some coffee, and this time she poured herself a cup. She handed him the mug and returned for the stool and her own coffee. “How did Winter do this?” He asked as he ate the chicken with dill mayonnaise sandwiches. “I can’t tell you.” She said and held her mug between both hands. His eyebrows rose. “Why not?”

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“It’s her secret to tell.” She replied. Trio nodded, accepting her answer. “Any thoughts on our release?” “Maybe.” She said and tried unsuccessfully to quell her smile. “But I can’t tell you that, either.” He nodded and finished his lunch in silence. “Are we allowed… no, of course not.” “What?” “Exercise outside the cell.” “Sorry.” She shook her head. He looked around the cell, his thoughts busy with frustration, longing and… anticipation. “So… what do you want to talk about?” He asked. “You.” “Me?” He snorted. “I’m no-one.” “Why would you say that?” She asked, curious. He looked at her, non-plussed. “Because it’s true.” Summer gave him a smile. “Nobody came from someone. Nobody did something special to be able to command a squad of elite men. Nobody…” “I meant I’m ordinary.” He said, a faint red tinge graced his cheekbones. Summer cleared her throat. “Tell me what ordinary people do, Duncan.” “Ah… gee. That’s actually a complex thing.” Summer sensed him organising his thoughts, not because he was projecting or that she was peeking, but because of his thoughtful expression. She settled herself back against the wall, and again, he sat facing her through the bars. “I’m no expert, you understand, but I’ll try and give you an idea of what it’s like out there and what you might expect once you’re free of this place.” She let the comment slide, didn’t want her excitement complicate matters.

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“Ordinary people.” He mused. “They’re born, grow up, go to school, find a job, get a girl, settled down, have kids, buy their own home, earn money for the kids’ education, retire and go on a cruise. How’s that?” He smirked. “And you’re at the ‘job’ phase?” From the look on his face, he didn’t expect her to take him seriously. “Um… I don’t know how to answer that.” “You’ve grown up and gone to school, so next on your list is getting a job. How did you get into the army anyway? You look more like a… a… an actor.” He burst out laughing. “An actor? Where’d you get that? My God, the men would bust a gut if they heard that!” “Why? You’re handsome, you move well, ah…” She shrugged. “I don’t know, you just look like you could be an actor.” “Oh, lady, you’ve got a lot to learn.” He studied her for a moment. “I like what I do; it’s important. I need to be in control when another’s life is in my hands. The men live or die at my command, so my decisions must be accurate. And I like to think I’ve done right by them. Except, of course…” He waved a hand around the cell. “Yes, well, you did know about me… or not me in particular, but you knew what to expect.” Duncan nodded. “I knew in theory, what might happen, not in practice. There is no defence against a mind reader, and, truth to tell, I don’t think anyone is as powerful as you. The idea that someone can read your mind, well, it’s kind of scary. No secrets.” “But I have a moral obligation not to steal secrets.” She sighed. It was an old argument to her, but one that was losing its validity, especially after what Winter told her. “Your father doesn’t believe that.” Duncan said. “I’m not going to discuss him.” At least, she thought, not until I’ve done some research. Trio looked like he wanted to pursue the topic, sipped his coffee without saying anything.

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“I mean it, Trio.” He finally nodded. “Okay.” “Ordinary people?” She prompted. “Ordinary people shop, argue with each other, got to PTA meetings, Little League games…” “PTA?” “Parents and Teacher Association meetings are for, as you’d expect, parents and teachers to discuss how their little juniors are going in school.” Summer shook her head. “I see. I don’t know that I’d cope.” “Well, I guess you’d have to interact with the crowd. That would be hard for you. I know I hated school. I was a ‘bad boy’.” He used his fingers for the signs of quotes. “The girls would have fallen over themselves to get close to you.” She said and felt the stirrings of resentment. “Not so much. I was the kind of guy parents warned against. Black leather, motorcycle, cool shades and a whole lot of attitude.” “Why?” He shrugged. “I guess I had a lot issues as a teenager. Most kids do. You see your parents fight, or begin to ignore each other and all you want is for life to be like it was when you were little. When your dad took you out back to throw a ball and your mom made brownies in the kitchen. When you had neighbours over for a barbeque in the Spring, street parties, sleep overs.” She felt the sadness in him grow as he continued. “When Christmas was all about the excitement and none of the disappointments. When the house was warm, you could drag your friends inside, Mom would be in the kitchen cooking, and Dad was on his way home from work. Not coming home to find her passed out on the couch and your father parked outside wondering if he should come in or not.” He looked at her with his mouth tight.

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“Issues. Yeah, I had issues and being a bad boy got me the attention I thought I needed. No gangs, though.” A smile flickered. “I was never so pissed at the folks that I’d join a gang. I was a one man gang all by myself.” “How did you escape?” She asked softly. His expression turned bleak. “Dad finally left. No note, just a message on the answering machine. I came home and Mom was playing the message over and over. In the months that followed, I tried to help out, but it just wasn’t working. By the time I finished school, I was on my own. My aunt came along and dragged Mom out of our house and into rehab. She didn’t stick with it though, but didn’t come home either. My aunt came over and told me she’d left me. I asked her why. Aunt Rhonda sat me down and explained that after I was born, Mom couldn’t have any more kids. She had miscarriage after miscarriage, but she was determined to try until she needed a hysterectomy. That broke her. As long as she had hope… well, without… she had nothing. “She wouldn’t adopt. Refused to consider it, even though Dad wanted to. She hit the bottle and he eventually hit the road.” “Do you ever see him?” She asked. “I didn’t. Not for many years. I blamed him, you see. I thought if he’d tried harder, been a better man… all that bullshit kids find to justify and channel their anger. He kept tabs on me though, through mutual friends, my aunt Rhonda. It wasn’t until I’d joined up, seen a bit of the world and the troubles others found themselves in that I understood. Sometimes, there is no solution, except to leave. As soon as I got stateside, I went out and found him. We went to his favourite bar. He introduced me around as his hero son. My God, he was so proud of me. And his friends, they accepted me as if they’d known me all my life.” Duncan lowered his head to the empty coffee mug. “I had no idea. But I’d refused to see him; not the other way around. And all of a sudden, I was proud of him. He’d had a hard decision to make. I don’t like the way he did it, wished he’d taken me with him, but he had to find his way. Why be miserable, when he could be happy? He left me with Mom because he knew I’d take care of her.

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We talked a lot that night. Got well and truly drunk together and you know what? His mates saw us home; they were just as loyal and upstanding as my own men.” “You picked men you could trust, like him.” “Yeah, it turns out he taught me better than I thought. Now, we get together every time I come off a mission, or we chat on the phone if he’s got something on.” “I think I’d like him.” Summer murmured. “He’s an ordinary man, Summer.” “Actually, he sounds extraordinary.” Duncan snorted. “Just one man out of millions trying to get by as best they can.” “Where does he think you are now?” “He never asks and I never tell.” Summer got up and held out her hand for his mug for a refill. While she waited for the drips to finish, she thought about what he said. She didn’t think either father or son was ordinary, but men anyone would be proud to know. What would it be like to have a such a bond? More and more she was dissecting her relationship with her father. And she was discovering, when she thought deeper, that their relationship was a superficial one, not built on love and respect, but on what she could do for him. Her hand shook as she poured the coffee. She walked back out and handed him the mug. “Summer, why do you stay here?” He asked. She lifted a shoulder and settled back on her stool. “Where else would I go?” “Anywhere. You could be anyone, do anything. You’re more than a mind reader.” “It’s what I am; what I do, Duncan.” “I believe you have a right to your own freedom as much as any other citizen; a right to the pursuit of happiness, to pursue your own destiny no matter where it takes you.” “And what is my destiny?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “That’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself.”

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“And if I want to stay here and help my father?” She played Devil’s Advocate. “Then I guess I’d be pretty disappointed in you.” He said quietly and drained his mug. “Let me ask you this: what kind of a career do you think I could have? Outside these walls?” She brushed a hand over the sandstone. “Well,” he pursed his lips in thought. “You could… no, not that.” “What?” “I was thinking trade negotiations, but you’d have an unfair advantage. Espionage is out; too dangerous. I know, you could open a shop and tell fortunes.” “I can’t read the future, Duncan, only the present and past.” “I’m sure there’s something out there for you. All you have to do is find it.” Summer collected his mug and took it back into the utility room. She sensed an urgency about him, a desperation and she was sorry for provoking him. Her father already had a solution; all she needed was patience. She went back to him. “I’m safe and I’m happy here, Duncan, there’s no need to be upset.” “I’m upset for you, Summer.” He said and crossed his arms, rested them on the bars above his head. “Are you happy, Summer?” Summer tried to drag her eyes away from the broad expanse of his chest in front of her eyes. “As long as I have my sister, I guess I’m content, for the moment.” “You deserve more.” “Maybe I do. But, Duncan? It’s up to me. No one else. I’m different, yes. I’ll have to be careful with whom I trust. Out there, beyond the walls are millions of people, all crowding around, making noise. And I don’t want to be anywhere near them. I couldn’t cope. So, I’m safer here and content.” “Your father…” “Duncan, please…” She naturally reached out and pressed a palm to his chest. “I don’t want to talk about him. I know you hate him and I know why. Just…”

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Heat burned in his eyes and she saw the sensual images in his mind again. Her fingers curled into his shirt, felt the warm, firm skin beneath. What…? Her eyes dropped to her hand and she snatched it away. “I’ve got to go.” She said quickly and ran for the door. *** James settled back into the lush leather seat of his private jet as it took off. Jonas Mainwaring had the right of it. Summer had no reason to test the truthfulness of statements she wanted, no, needed to hear from him. When he mentioned Beckett wanting to work with her, her face lit up with excitement. He’d deflected her impending questions about this trip, and he did not need her discovering his true reasons. Soon, no more than a couple of days, he was sure Beckett was going order an assault on the Fort to retrieve his men and the girls. If all went well, he’d have his safe house set up, the government officials bribed properly to deny all knowledge of him and the bedrock laid for his take over of the continent. The voluptuous, blonde-haired and blue -eyed flight attendant swayed down the aisle with a tray and poured him a snifter of brandy. He lifted the glass, inhaled the rich scent. “Thank you, Andra.” He smiled up at her and watched her sashay back to her station. He never actually mentioned to Duquesne which powerful corner of the globe he wanted, the stupid man merely assumed it was America and James was happy to let him fill in his own story to fit that assumption. Oil and mineral rich and South America was his goal. All he needed now was a little time, then he’d return for Summer. But he couldn’t leave Winter in the clutches of the government, he wasn’t that cruel and she was, like Summer, his; bought and paid for in cold hard cash and his to do with as he wished.

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The airplane levelled out. He checked his watch. Tomorrow, Chambers would get French out of the cell and hand Winter over to him. He’d then sedate Summer until James returned. Summer was the reason for this trip. In Brazil, he would consult with one of the scientists who escaped the purge of the Genesis project. She would know how to stop Summer from invading his mind. His training of her would go a long way to stopping her, but once she realised what happened, she’d be furious, vengeful, and he needed protection until he could convince it was all one terrible accident and he wasn’t to blame. And without Winter to screw things up, he’d finally achieve his ambition of absolute power. He’d hire Summer out to the highest bidder and the thought sent a thrill through him. Lord, what he could do with her! Andra came back down the aisle as he finished his brandy. She leaned over, exposing a creamy expanse of lush augmentations. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” She asked with a warm smile. James read the invitation in her baby blues and lust surged into his groin. “Now that you ask…” He murmured and unzipped his pants.

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Chapter Fourteen Duncan listened to the music in his head to stave off the boredom. He had the tennis ball to help him relax, but he really needed a good long run, followed by a soak in the tub. What he really, really needed was to get out of here. A shadow fell across his face and he looked up from his position on the stone. It was too early for Summer and he hadn’t heard the door open. A woman stood there; a long, lean woman with long, curly auburn hair and jade coloured eyes that glowed with green fire. A deep purple surrounded one puffy eye, her nose was red, swollen, her upper lip sported two stitches and she had one hell of a bruise that went from her jaw up to her cheek. He rose to his feet, his eyes roaming over the familiar, yet different face. Summer had really laid into her. “Stand back, please,” she said in a warm and husky British accent. “You must be Winter.” She gave him a nod and shoo-ed him backwards. He slowly complied and leaned against the back wall, insolently crossed his arms. “I can see the resemblance.” He said. “We’re not identical.” Her delicate, long-fingered hands hovered over the lock. He thought he saw the air shimmer, caught the scent of hot metal. He blinked, then rubbed his eyes. When he looked again, Winter was walking away. Perplexed, he went to the lock and studied it. “Don’t hurt her.” He looked up, startled that she could move so quietly. “What?” “Summer. Don’t hurt her. You don’t want me to come after you.” His eyebrows rose. “Threats already, and we haven’t been formally introduced.”

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Her jade eyes narrowed and he felt a shiver. “I’m nowhere near as nice and polite as she is, Captain Duquesne. I don’t have any problems with… disassembling living molecules.” “I don’t understand.” One auburn eyebrow rose. Well, he thought, they had that in common. Both women wore disdain to the nth degree. “She never told you about what I can do?” Duncan shook his head. “She said it was your secret to tell.” Winter snorted. “Typical.” Duncan glared at her. “I think it’s a matter of privacy. It’s your talent; yours to explain if you wish to.” “Got to you, did she?” Winter’s lip curled. “I would have expected more than a little loyalty for her from you.” “Don’t get me wrong, soldier boy. Anyone goes after Summer, they have me to deal with as well. We have our own sibling rivalry going, but don’t get between us.” Satisfied she’d made her point, she went on. “You want to know my power? Watch, learn and be afraid.” “Fear me.” He rumbled in his deepest voice and amusement flashed in her eyes. “That works, too, Puss.” She held her finger over the bar in front of his face. “Alchemy. The art of changing one thing into another.” Duncan saw the shimmering again and watched, stunned as the bar shifted from solid metal into something else, something shiny. Winter’s finger touched the stuff at the top and with her other hand, separated it from the steel above. She did the same with the bottom of the foot long portion. She pulled the piece out and he saw it was the same dull grey metal of the other bars. “How…”

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“Alchemy. The art of changing one thing into another.” She repeated and slapped the bar into the palm of her hand. “Jesus.” He whispered and studied the ends remaining. They were smooth, slightly rounded. “There’s not a prison in the world that would hold you.” “Something to remember.” He looked at her sharply. “And you can do this with living things?” She gave him a slow smile that chilled him. “And you’re showing me this because…? She lifted a shoulder. “It seemed appropriate.” Now she’d confused him. “Why?” “Tell me. Was it satisfying to have my sister through the bars?” She asked coldly. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” He growled, though the memory was still fresh with him of what he would do if he ever got Summer close enough without prison bars between them. “Anything that deals with my sister’s happiness is my business. But, should she be… put into a similar situation again, I’d prefer it be… to her benefit, her choice, not because of any outside influence. And if outside influences become… an imperative, I’d prefer she be more comfortable.” Duncan saw the determination in the woman’s eyes. It was as if there was a light behind them, making them glow. Underneath, though, he saw a hint of embarrassment. She wasn’t the hard case she pretended to be; and she loved her sister. “Okay.” He said softening his tone. She nodded and walked away. As she reached the door, he called out: “Give my best to Sandy!” Her shoulders tensed but she didn’t pause. She slammed the door shut behind her. He chuckled and went back to studying the lock. It was secure, but it looked like an ordinary, keyed lock. Duncan pursed his lips and turned to look at his bunk. He’d see what the phone had to offer in the way of lock picks.

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Foolish of Summer to leave it with him, and foolish of her not to tell Winter about it. He’d pick the lock, release his men and… what? Summer would sense they were out. And if she could sense that, she would surely call Winter to aid her in corralling them. He already knew there were guards patrolling the surrounds and inside the castle. No, he thought and stood straight, this would require planning and guile. Still, it might be interesting to have a quick look at his surrounds, keep an ear out for Summer. He’d see if he could do the lock first. Exploring could wait until Summer had retired for the evening. With his initial plan in mind, he quickly called Java. “Listen, I don’t want you to call me for the next hour.” He said without preamble. “And there I was thinking you never call, you never write…” Java replied. Duncan chuckled. “I have a plan, and I need to concentrate. How’re you guys doing?” “We took the phone apart but there’s no lock to pick. I don’t know how they got us in here, but we ain’t getting out anytime soon.” “Let me worry about that.” Duncan said. “What about Casper? How’s he travelling?” “You know? It’s weird.” Duncan heard the rasp of Java’s hand brushing against the bristles of his face. “He’s taken to pacing and muttering. He says he’s trying to come up with a fool proof plan of escape, but I dunno… He seems… off.” “Keep an eye on him for me.” “Sure thing boss, and call me soon.” “Count on it.” He turned the phone off and set about removing the back cover. *** Summer heard the rhythmic thump of the ball as she brought his dinner in. “I should get you some reading material.” She said and slid the tray under the bars. He eagerly reached for it and began eating. “Crosswords.” “Crosswords?”

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“Yep, keeps the mind thinking.” He said between mouths full of Cabonnara. “This is great.” He added She inclined her head. “Thank you.” “You’re chef is the best.” “Hmm.” She murmured. He didn’t know that she made all his meals, not the chef, but she took the compliment in the spirit it was offered. As a child, when she’d first wandered into the kitchen, bored with her lessons, the chef at the time had offered to teach her. Both of them had been surprised when she proved a natural talent. She’d thought she’d been listening with her mind as well as her ears to his instructions, but she soon learned that it was her affinity with the craft, nothing else. Since then, she’d occasionally cooked for her father, without his knowledge of course. The first time she’d presented him with an haute cuisine meal, he’d simply said her talents were more important than mere ‘cooking’. Disappointed at his reaction, but not defeated, she simply continued her hobby in secret. Winter knew, of course, but didn’t share her patience or flair. And that was fine. Winter’s hobbies were all to do with the outdoors. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” She said. “Do you have the same?” She shook her head. “No, Louis doesn’t believe prisoners should share the same ingredients.” Duncan laughed. “But he won’t let us starve either.” Summer gave him a smile. “No, my pride won’t let me. I make them.” His smile was slow. “You have a world class talent there.” He studied her for a moment then cleared his throat. “I met your sister today. She cares a great deal for you.” “Yes, I know that.” “But I bet she doesn’t show it very often.” He said softly.

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“No,” she agreed with a slight smile, “but she doesn’t have to. I know it here.” She placed a hand over her heart. His eyes lingered on her hand, and a familiar heat rose. Summer dropped her hand, but his focus remained on her chest. “So… what did you talk about?” Duncan slowly smiled, lifted his gaze to her then flicked to the bars. “Access.” She saw the gap, then lowered her eyes to the uncovered lock. “Access?” “In case… you need me again.” He said softly. “Or want me.” Summer licked her lips and his heated gaze went to her mouth. The need to have him close rose, closer than before and a deep ache pulsed between her thighs. She turned away, resisted the temptation. It hadn’t been her desire but Winter’s. No… not her. But a small, insistent voice said that was only partially true. She wanted him inside her, wanted to feel the weight of his body, the heat, the… “So, what’s it like?” Duncan asked casually, breaking into her thoughts. “What?” She croaked. He grinned at her and set his fork onto the empty tray. “Diving into the heads of businessmen, politicians, royalty and others. Tell me how that works.” Summer tried to reign in her carnal thoughts, to suppress the low buzz in her belly. She focused on his question and the desire receded. It didn’t go away, but she could manage it now. “Um… it’s like tuning into a wireless, I guess, I find the frequency, dial in and then I simply relate the information.” She shrugged. “You don’t feel the emotions behind the thoughts?” “If I concentrate, yes, but I’m not looking for that, I’m looking for information germane to the business dealings.” “Everyone gets a little emotional when they’re thinking, even if they don’t show it.” He said.

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“That may be, but as I said, I’m gleaning information, not looking for psychological problems.” “Maybe you should.” “You don’t get it, do you?” She said with exasperation. “Sure I do.” He grinned. “You peek into people’s heads for information pertinent to your father’s business dealings. You don’t go any deeper than that. You don’t look for motives, for deception, nothing but the information your father requires. But there is one flaw.” Summer lifted her chin. “And what’s that?” “If a business rival is lying to themselves, say, about profit projections for example, and they don’t know the real figures, how do you verify the information you’re scalping is true?” She gave him a smile. “Two ways, actually, the first is that most of my information can be verified and secondly, I deal with the CEO, the head of the company.” “Harsh.” “Business.” “Bad business." He argued. “Effective business.” She replied. “That sounds like your father talking. But you could do better, if you let go of your moralistic attitude – don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a wonderful thing to have – there’s no telling how much you could achieve, how much you could do in this world.” Her mouth twisted. “Now you sound like my father.” “Well, shit. There’s no need to be insulting!” “I know you don’t like him...” She hesitated, refusing to give voice to her growing doubts about her father and unwilling to see the triumph lurk in Duncan’s eyes. Duncan grabbed the bars of his cell and leaned in. “He’s a manipulative, psychopathic, ambitious bastard. And you know it.” Summer glared at him. “I most certainly do not!”

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“Tell me he’s not manipulative?” He suggested. She bit her lip If what Winter said was true about the business minds she’d raided for him, wasn’t that manipulation? Could her father have lied to her to crush the opposition or put them into a position where he could take them over? “Okay, tell me he’s not ambitious?” She couldn’t do that either, given all the wealth, power and influence he had and she kept her mouth shut. “Nothing to say? Can’t think of a defence? All this time he’s used you and you’ve been too blinded by loyalty to see it.” His words fell like acid on her soul, burning. No, her father wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t lie to her, she’d know. But then… when was the last time she’d skimmed his thoughts? Summer couldn’t remember. It wasn’t necessary; so assured was she that he only had good intentions, that he loved her, wanted to protect her. She shored up her faith in her father again. “He’s my father and I love him. If he’s done something illegal, if law enforcement agencies can prove it, I’ll still stand by him.” She said. “But there isn’t any proof because he’s a law-abiding citizen!” Duncan snorted and it raised her ire. “What is so difficult to understand about that? Why is my loyalty to my father any different from other children and their parents?” He rested his forehead against one of the bars and his expression turned regretful. “Because no one else’s father is planning to take over the government.” He said and Summer stared at him. Then she laughed with outright disbelief. “Take over the government? Whatever for? Do you know how much time and effort it is to run a country? It’s hard enough to run one company!” Trio’s mouth turned down and his expression hardened. “He told me himself.”

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“Well, he was having you on. My father has no ambition to take over the country, there would be no profit in it for him, and if there’s anything I know about my father, it’s that he never begins a venture unless he can make a profit out of it.” There. He certainly couldn’t argue with that logic. “How about because he can?” She snorted. “That’s a little facetious, don’t you think?” “No, I don’t actually. He has all this money and whatever else and he still wants more. When is it enough? You tell me. When is it enough? When does he stop and think, ‘oh, hey, I’ve made more money than I could spend in ten lifetimes. I think I’ll stop now and enjoy it’. Or when does he help those less fortunate?” “He’s not a charity.” She frowned. “No, and that’s him talking, not you. Do you have any idea of just how wealthy he is?” “Not really. It’s impolite to talk about someone’s bank account, you know.” “But you help him accrue it. Doesn’t he pay you?” She shook her head, appalled. “Of course not! He’s my father and he provides me with everything!” “Don’t you shop?” “Through the internet.” “How long have you been doing this for him, anyway?” Summer lifted her shoulders. “As long as I can remember.” Duncan shook his head in disgust. “I think I’ll just add tight-fisted to the list.” She heard him mutter, and then he glared at her. “Normal people, Summer, ordinary people, get paid to work! And for what you do? You’d be a millionaire in your own right! You could name your price!” Summer was taken aback by the vehemence in his tone. He sounded so angry, his knuckles were white where they gripped the bars. Suddenly he pushed off and began pacing the confines of his cell. “He has used you, Summer, for all these years, he has

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used you to further his own ends. And without thought to whether you wanted to. I bet he dared you the first time, didn’t he?” She said nothing. Father had dared her. She and Winter had been about ten at the time; in Paris, no, Marseille. Father had asked Summer what she thought of Mr Ford, the man sitting two tables away. He was a portly man with a grey comb-over and thick, black-rimmed glasses, puffing on an after dinner cigar, that stank up the room. “He smells bad.” Summer had whispered loudly. “Yes, Summer, but can you tell what he’s thinking? Is he too far away for you?” “No, Father, of course not.” She shared a conspiratorial glance with Winter; they’d both been practicing without Father’s notice so they could surprise him with their hard work. Summer tilted her head and looked over at the man. She concentrated. “He’s thinking about a woman, a young one, not his wife. Oh, she’s naked!” She bent her head and whispered across the table. Father had chuckled. “Good girl, Summer.” Father turned to Winter a strange light in his eyes. “Winter, could you put that infernal cigar out?” “Yes, Father.” Winter had smirked and simply turned the ash on the end of the cigar solid. It dropped off the end of the cigar and into Mr Ford’s lap. Thinking it was a live ember, Mr Ford leapt out of his chair and brushed himself down. Curiously, when another colleague had come over to the table, Father had introduced her and Winter as his nieces, not his daughters. She hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but Duncan’s words made her think of all the other times he’d denied parenthood. And when she and Winter had become teenagers, he rarely allowed them to go on trips with him. Both of them had proven they could act without being in close contact with the people on whom he wanted information. She shook off the memories and lifted her eyes to Duncan. “Yes. He did.” “I knew it! The evil, manipulative…” He cut himself off, his expression thunderous. “Prison is too good for him.” He said with quiet violence.

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“Don’t say that.” She said weakly. “He’s still my father.” Duncan blinked with astonishment and she heard his shock echo in his mind as if he’d made an important discovery. “You… really believe that.” “Of course.” She said with a frown. “Why would you think he’s not my father?” Duncan swallowed and hesitated. He wiped a hand over his mouth, rubbed his lower lip, then watched her carefully as to impart bad news. “Have you… ever… really looked at him? At Winter and yourself? Compared yourselves to him?” She shook her head and dread spiked through her. “No, why would I do that?” “You should, because if I can see there is no family resemblance, others will, too. You should have each got something from his genes, and yet, you don’t. I may not be up on my biology, but neither of you have brown eyes; and no hint of hazel, either. Winter is no doubt your sister, you share the same body type and eye shape. And your noses, too, I think once the swelling goes down on Winter’s. But James as your father? I don’t think so.” “Are you trying to deliberately hurt me?” She asked, her throat tight. “No, honey.” His voice was soft, apologetic. “But you have to face facts: your… father is nothing but an Artful Dodger.” She blinked at his analogy, but now her thoughts rearranged themselves. She and Winter had been kept out of sight at all times, especially once they became adults. They didn’t go on trips, or even outside the Fort, he always had a reason for them not to. Yes, he provided them with all the comforts they needed, but they had no friends other than each other – and even that friendship was on shaky ground. Now she was beginning to understand what that meant, even contact with the guards was now out of bounds – and probably why Winter found so much fun in provoking them; and why her father was always so angry with her. Did he think those guards would betray his trust and speak of Summer and Winter? She’d never actually considered the possibility of earning money; her father gave her everything… well, most of it. The horse she’d asked for, and been given, was actually a

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racehorse that won the Kentucky Derby, but she’d never actually touched it. And the horse’s winnings? She never knew what happened to the cheque; never asked. She and Winter had a room full of toys to play with as kids, anything and everything that was the current trend. As they’d grown, jewellery had become the presents given, though they had nowhere to wear them. She supposed they were in a safe somewhere. But what Trio said about whether Father was her real father? “What…” She began huskily, “What are you trying to say, Duncan?” “You’ve lived your entire life here, Summer, and never been allowed to have a childhood most kids expect. Now you’re an adult and the same is still true. When are you going to live life on your own terms and not under your father’s?” Summer winced and turned away, hurt by his words and the implications. “Summer?” She hunched a shoulder, couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to see the truth in either his eyes or his mind, which, she realised, she was desperately blocking. She turned her head. “I won’t look.” “You must.” He said. “No.” She returned and ran out. “Summer!” His call spurred her feet into action and she flew through the door and slammed it shut.

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Chapter Fifteen “Well, damn.” Duncan muttered and gently bashed his head against the bar. All he wanted was to try to make her see that her situation here was untenable; that she was caught as much as he. But he’d chased her away instead. He thought she knew James wasn’t her biological father. Hell, she came to America at age six; didn’t she have any memories? His heart ached at the sight of her devastation. The expressions rippling across her face, from curious, to questioning, to hurt. But was the hurt because of his words or because of James’ actions? She needed time to understand his revelation, he figured. She did nothing without checking first and if she went to James, he’d lie through his teeth and she’d never know because she refused to break her rule. Summer’s Rule. Duncan snorted and rested his hands across the horizontal bar of his cell, shook his head. Sometimes he wondered where his own capacity for cruelty came from. In this case, he felt it necessary. But now he’d raised doubts in her mind, would she seek alternative methods for her corroborations of what he’d said? She was smart, she’d find a way through the disillusionment and come back to tell him so. He dragged in a deep breath. In the meantime, he had worked to do. He couldn’t spend his time mooning over the woman. He went to work on the lock and was surprised at how easily he was able to circumvent it. The cell door eased open and he stepped out. After so long incarcerated, he felt like doing a happy dance. Instead, he dragged in a lungful of freedom. Duncan went to the steel door. He hadn’t seen it, only heard it. There was a barred window at eye level and he peered through. More stonework, cells and a stone staircase that curved upwards at the end of the hallway. He’d look at that later.

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He went back the other way, into the utility room. Cupboards were set along one wall and beneath sat a microwave, coffee machine and bench space. He walked to the wooden door opposite. Inside he found cleaning materials. Maybe useful, maybe not, he thought and moved out of the room. On his left was a corner and he peeked around. Another steel door with a window. He approached cautiously and peered through; more cells and yet another door. He rested his hand on the handle and pressed down. The hinges were well oiled, but he still heard the rustle of clothing. He put his back to the wall and waited. The sound didn’t come again and he eased his way along the stonework. At the first cell, he quickly glanced inside then gaped in surprise. “Sandy?” He called out in a harsh whisper. Justin rolled off the bunk in shock. “Trio! What are you doing here? How did you get out? What’s going on?” “Shh.” Duncan crouched down and Sandy did the same on the other side of the cell. “I’m exploring, Winter did something to the lock on my cell, and I don’t have a clue.” “Winter? What’s she got to do with this?” Duncan eyed his friend suddenly lit up expression. Uh oh. There were signs of attachment there. “She, uh, melted the steel over the cell lock, I picked it and here I am.” “Yeah?” Sandy grinned. “Hell of thing, ain’t it?” Then his smile vanished and he looked around outside the cell. “You don’t think that bastard made her do it, do you?” Duncan glanced around, suspicion rising. “We’ll find out soon enough. Do you know where the men are?” “Next cell block, I suppose.” “Your’s or mine?” “I don’t know, I haven’t seen or spoken to them. Winter just said they were fine. What about your men?”

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“Got me a phone.” Duncan said smugly. “How the fuck did you manage that? All I get is piss and vinegar from Winter.” “Maybe you need to use sweetness and light instead.” “Jeez, man, you know me, that’s the first thing I tried.” Sandy slumped down. “I just don’t get that woman. I can see she’s unhappy, but I can’t get anything out of her. Did you see what that bitch of a sister did to her? Man, I’d like to… What?” Duncan realised he was quietly laughing. “They did it to each other, you rube! You should see Summer, all beat to hell.” He slouched back against the stonework. “Really?” “Really. I got the low down from some dweeb of a guard. They simply punched the snot out each other.” “Wonder what caused that?” Duncan shrugged. “She wouldn’t tell me, but I got the impression she enjoyed it.” Sandy sneered. “Yeah, well, Summer is Pocklington’s favourite around here. That much I do know.” “Yeah. I got that, too.” Duncan paused, then went on. “I think they’re both in danger from him.” “Yeah. Something’s going on. Winter’s a firecracker, but there’s something… lonely about her.” “Summer, too. Listen,” he paused, glanced around the cell and the corridor, “I think you need to be more aggressive with her. More like the macho soldier I know you to be. Maybe she’ll respond to that. And get a damn phone to your men. Make no plans, but get whoever you trust the most to keep an eye on the others.” “Why? What’s going on?” “Something scary, Sandy. Something you never want to believe will ever happen to your team. We’ve been compromised.” He said in a low whisper and quickly briefed Sandy on what he’d found out. “You are shitting me!”

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“No, I’m not. Think about it. Think about what those women can do and then think on the solution certain members of our august government might do about it.” “Damn.” “Yeah. We can’t protect them while we’re locked up, but until I can convince Summer of the dangers and of her father’s…” “We’re not leaving yet?” Duncan hated to dampen Sandy’s hopeful spirit, but he had to. “I know who my traitor is. You gotta find out who on your team is here to commit murder. We need a solid plan to get to the men, neutralise the assassins, and get those women out of here.” “Okay, you’re right.” Sandy rubbed his forehead. “I wish we could nail that bastard at the same time, Trio.” “Yeah, but Summer and Winter come first, right?” He looked around. “I gotta go. Summer was pissed with me, but once she gets over it, I think she’ll be back. And I’ve still got some exploring to do.” He held out his fist and they touched knuckles. “Later.” Duncan left Sandy and returned to his own cell area. He breathed a sigh of relief that Summer hadn’t returned. He went through the other door quietly. All the cells were empty, unused and he went to the staircase, craned his neck to look upwards. He made his way up carefully and silently, focused on any sound above him. His thoughts turned to Winter. Why had she let him escape? She had to know what Sir James would do to her if he found out. Was she playing with him or was she just that selfish and reckless that she didn’t care? Did he buy the ‘comfortable sex’ angle? What was her agenda? He came to a stop at a door, ornately carved dark wood but no bars. Through the window, he saw a long, broad carpeted hallway with immaculate, highly polished furnishings. Like the suits of armour and oil-paintings he and Noddy saw when they arrived. He’d thought then it was the entertainment are, furnished to impress business rivals and partners.

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This wasn’t a home, he realised, but a museum. An obscene display of wealth cherished only by one man. And that pissed him off. Was this how he saw Summer and Winter, too? Did he acquire them as precious objects and horded them for his own benefit in this cold, forbidding place? Because he had no doubt the rest of the Fort was equally furnished. The man had no concept of how to share. That made him pause. If he was willing to obtain the twins through a transaction that Duncan couldn’t see as legal, how many other items in the Fort did he acquire through dubious means? He filed that thought away for future exploration. Summer and Winter weren’t family to him at all; they were assets destined to help James rule the world. Of course he wouldn’t bring them up as any other parent would. He’d trained them from childhood to do his bidding, brainwashed them to like it. Duncan shook his head and made his way back to his cell. What a sad, sick man. All his love spent on the acquisition of things. And what a waste of two perfectly good human beings; to be used to acquire those things. For people like James Wellesley Pocklington the third, Winter and Summer were assets to be used, just as he boasted to Duncan. It wasn’t until he glimpsed what Summer’s life must be like that he truly believed the bastard. He closed the cell door but didn’t relock it. Somehow, he had to get them both out of here. Whatever lay on the other side of the Fort walls, whatever happened, it had to better than them remaining here, even if he had to betray his country and forsake his duty to do it. *** Summer sat in her father’s office and watched with despair as Trio picked the lock on the cell door and made his escape. Tears had arisen then; because it wasn’t just Trio who’d deceived her, but Winter too. There was no other way he could get out of the cell. And while Trio’s escape was a

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part of his duty, Winter’s betrayal hurt the most; hurt deep down inside with a pulsing ache. She’d come to the office to search for information disproving Duncan’s claim that James wasn’t her biological father. She found that Chambers, her father’s secretary, had left the media channels running. Not wanting the distraction, she pressed a couple of buttons on the remote. And found the surveillance channel. Every screen flickered to a scene within the Fort: the dining room, the kitchen, hallways, bedrooms – hers and Winter’s, including the bathrooms for God’s Sake! – the cells… Before she could wonder why, she saw Duncan sneak out of his confinement. Why had Winter done this? Why was it so important for Winter to spit in Father’s eye like this? Summer knew well of the volcanic relationship between her father and Winter, knew well her twin was forever trying to gain Father’s approval or attention, all to no avail. Deep down she knew her father favoured her, but she didn’t understand it. How could he fail to see that together, she and Winter were an unstoppable team, that one without the other was nothing. She sniffed back the tears as the bitter betrayal struck deep. So much for the privacy her father professed to value so highly. So much for the so-called ‘freedom’ he allowed them both around the Fort. So much for the trust he had in her, and the reason he always knew where she was. She’d assumed Winter or a staff member told him; now she knew the truth. And since his spying on her was true, what else had he lied to her about? Now she saw that with this monitoring, he knew everything, saw everything, she and Winter ever did, together or apart. She saw a measure of truth in Duncan’s words, in the ongoing battle between Winter and Father, too, and her own complicity in the animosity and contempt Winter sometimes showed her. Summer suddenly felt naïve and stupid - ashamed and humiliated.

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She kept her eyes on the screens, tried to understand the horrible, painful emotions swirling within her. Duncan found a man she assumed was Captain Beech. He spoke for some time, though she couldn’t hear the words, couldn’t see a button on the sophisticated remote that would allow her to listen in. While they conversed, Summer’s eyes flicked to another screen where Winter worked out in the gym. Summer couldn’t raise the energy, or the courage to go and speak with her. If she did, she’d be treated with derision and she wasn’t in the mood to spar; she still ached from the last time they had a ‘discussion’. Her gaze went back to Duncan. He was now making his way back towards his cell. He walked by the open door and she watched him go up the stairs. Was he coming here? Was he looking for an escape route? He stood at the top of the stairs and stared through the window, then he shook his head and went back down stairs. Why did he do that? He had the perfect opportunity to find an escape route. Was he waiting for late night, early morning when those in the Fort slept? Summer knew he wouldn’t leave his men. She stared in amazement as he returned to his cell and closed the door. Maybe he need to think on a plan? Summer rubbed the ache in her chest, and then lifted a hand to wipe away the tears on her flushed cheeks. She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to handle this much betrayal. But she had to do something. Father was due back in a couple of days. But how much loyalty did she owe him now? Or Duncan? Or her own sister? She didn’t have the wherewithal to survive in the world alone, but it appeared as if she’d have to learn, and fast. Summer slowly stood. She felt as if she’d aged a hundred years. The need to know the truth about her father pulled at her. She had to know, one way or another, and her gaze sought out the filing cabinets set along one wall.

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She stood in front of the first one, tugged the top drawer. It slid out easily and she smiled. Her father’s lack of security might very well cost him, Summer thought as she began reading file names. Summer worked her way along the cabinets, checking files. Stuck at the end, almost hidden, was a different filing cabinet, less pristine, smaller and made of wood; odd in the landscape of perfection. She opened the top drawer and saw the personal papers. Knowing her reading of all the files would take time, Summer went into her father’s personal kitchen and made herself a pot of coffee. She brought the pot and a stack of folders to the desk and sat in James’ handcrafted leather chair. With a tremulous breath, she began to read. Hours later, when she was done, she leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. She felt beyond emotion; she was… numb. How could he? She wondered. How could one human be so cruel, so ambitious as to plan such a thing, so… words failed her. Her eyes saw the room in a different light, not an office where her busy father worked, but a collection of over-priced – or stolen - pieces of furniture or art; a place where he conspired to defraud, to steal, lie and cheat his way to a fortune and a position of power; and she helped him do it. The photocopier whined down and she rose, nausea swirling in her stomach. She pulled the last sheet from the tray with cold fingers. She had compiled a substantial folder of information. But what could she do with it? To whom could she give it? She turned around. The screens showed no movement and she checked her watch. Three a.m. and a wave of exhaustion swept over her. While she desperately needed to sleep, what she had was too important to leave undone. With heavy steps, she made her way up the stone staircase to Winter’s room. The hallway antiques took on a different hue now, one of greed and avarice, not beauty and historic reverence.

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Summer didn’t knock, she simply opened the door and walked in. Winter wasn’t there and Summer’s heart plummeted as she realised where her sister was, and with whom. Funny, but the connection had failed her this time. She reached out with her mind and found Winter sitting on one side of the cell bars and Captain Beech on the other. Talking, she thought with relief, simply talking. She didn’t think she’d be able to cope if Winter had sex with the handsome soldier, it would simply be too much. But Winter looked relaxed, almost happy. It surprised Summer to realise that her sister’s happiness hurt. Her sister could reach out and touch someone, be held by someone when things got tough; she’d always used intimacy for comfort. But Summer… Summer had been unable to do the same, because of what happened with Drew. It was as if she and Winter were two totally different people and not twins at all. Now she had to wonder if that was something her father had manipulated as well – after all, Summer thought with a curl of her lip, she’d spent more time with him, listened to him, tried to please him above all else; suppressed her natural need to reach out to Winter. Her sister had the confidence, the strength and courage to go after what she wanted, while she sat back and dithered, eventually turning away from what had tempted her unless she had instructions from her father. And wasn’t that a pathetic thing to know and understand about oneself? Her eyes misted again and she clutched the file to her chest, turned towards the stairs to the dungeon and… hesitated. Duncan could get out at any time. He might try to use her as a hostage, he could… he could be frozen by her. But she didn’t have the heart for it; no longer cared to defend herself or her family. She found herself at the steel door and slowly opened it. This time of the morning, Duncan would be asleep. She could curl up under a quilt and try to sleep without his waking. Then again, even if he did wake and find her there, what would he do?

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She didn’t care and went into the utility room for a quilt. Summer wrapped the softness around her, curled up on the cold stone floor and silently cried herself to sleep. *** Duncan came awake at the soft rustle of fabric on stone. He kept absolutely still and cracked an eyelid. She was back. He was about to move when he heard her quietly sniff. He opened his eye wider and in the subdued lighting, caught the glimmer of tears on her pale cheeks. She must have found his proof. Duncan silently cursed. He’d never known what to do with a woman’s tears. Hold them in your hands gently, son, for they are precious and rarely fall, he heard his father tell him the first time he’d seen his mother cry. He hadn’t really understood because, later, his mother did it so often. Was there anything more heartbreaking than watching a strong woman break down? He didn’t think so. But now, watching as Summer curled up on the floor as if in penance, he felt his heart constrict. It was painful for him to see her cry herself to sleep. What had she discovered that would cause such abject grief? And why had she come down here? Something to do with Winter? Or something more devastating? He waited until she was asleep and then counted to one hundred, then he got up and quietly opened the cell door. He crouched in front of her, but she didn’t move. Summer looked shattered, exhausted. Carefully, he picked her up, quilt and all and took her into his cell, placed her on his bunk, then went back to close the door. She murmured, but didn’t awaken. It would be clear to her, in the morning, that he could escape at any time, but for once he didn’t care. All he cared about was Summer and at least giving her some measure of peace. Duncan slowly removed her soft leather boots and fine wool socks, set them under the bunk, and lay next to her, spoon fashion. He slid his arm over her waist, felt some-

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thing stiff and leaned up to look. She was clutching a buff coloured folder as if her life depended on it. He gently eased it out of her grasp, opened it and stared at the front page. He tilted the first page for better light. He only read a few pages, but what he understood of Pocklington’s plans filled him with fury. Here was confirmation of what Colonel Cosgrove had briefed them on. No wonder Summer looked like she’d lost everything. She hadn’t known, and he’d dared her to find out. He closed the file and put it on the floor next to the bed, then rested his arm protectively across her waist. He wasn’t sure what do. How did you fix a life based totally on lies and betrayal? Worse, how did you come to terms with your part in those lies? He didn’t know, but he hurt for her in the worst way. Summer shuddered in his arms and wriggled closer, as if she were lost at sea and he was the only port in sight. The imagery made him smile slightly and he snuggled down next to her, relieved he finally had a chance to hold her. He’d think of something to ease her pain, he promised himself breathed in her fresh, spicy fragrance. Damned if he didn’t feel as if she was his port tonight.

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Chapter Sixteen Summer felt warm; warm, safe and comfortable. She didn’t want to move, but she had things to do, places to be, breakfast to make. Her eyes slowly opened and she squinted at the smooth sandstone wall. That can’t be right, she thought, then her eyes widened and she bolted upright. The arm circling her waist fell away and she heard a masculine grumble of complaint. She turned her head warily and looked down. Duncan’s eyes were half open, studying her with interest. Last night’s revelations came crashing back and she felt her face crumple as she turned away from him. She fell sideways back onto the bed and curled into a foetal position. “Hey now, it can’t be that bad.” He whispered in her ear. Summer ducked her head under the covers. “What am I doing here?” She groaned. “You looked uncomfortable on the stone floor. It’s cold, you know.” “And I got in here… “When I picked you up and carried you.” “Right.” She caught a glimpse in his mind of doing just that, picking her up gently and carrying her into the cell. “What happens now?” “Hmm…” his hand snuck beneath the covers and came around her waist again, turned her flat on her back. He stared down at her with thoughtful blue eyes, held her in firmly place. He had to know what she could do to him but he wasn’t afraid, far from it, in fact and her face heated. “You’re in a man’s bed, all warm and snuggly. I think we’ll keep to that.” He ducked his head into the base of her throat near her shoulder and breathed her in, his arm tightened on her waist.

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“Wha… what are you doing?” She asked, tingles of awareness prickling her skin. “Snuggling.” He said and brushed his mouth against her skin. “But… You can’t be snuggling with me!” “Sure I can.” He murmured and punctuated his words with soft kisses. “Are you… are you always this… playful in the mornings?” She asked and held herself completely still. “That…” his tongue flicked out to taste the skin of her throat, “depends…” he slid a warm, calloused hand down to her hip, “on who…” he kissed his way down to her shoulder, “I wake up…” and across her collarbone, “with.” He made his way up her throat to her chin. “Um… you can stop that…” she breathed and tilted her head up. “In a minute.” He chuckled, his lips a breath from hers. Summer swallowed as his eyes drained of humour and filed with something more intense, more compelling. “I want you, Summer.” She tried to reply, but nothing came out. “Really,” he pushed his hips forward, “Really,” his hand drifted up from her hip to cup a breast, “really want you.” She desperately wanted to ask him for how long, but her blood zinged hot through her veins. She said nothing; simply looked into his eyes. His mouth lowered to hers, and she was lost. Heat flashed through her, passion surged and she threw caution to the wind and wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her. If she had nothing else, she would take this, just once, she would take and not consider the consequences. Duncan’s legs tangled with hers, his erection pressed heavily against her thigh. Summer arched her throat as his hot, moist mouth cruised across her face. The silkiness of his beard brushed her skin, aroused her further. She didn’t need the foreplay, she decided, and pushed him back, she was hot for him now and she threw off the quilt.

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Duncan eased back with questions in his eyes, but she grabbed the hem of his shirt, dragged it upwards. He grinned and tugged the material over his head, tossed it aside. Her hands immediately went his broad expanse of muscled chest. “Oh, boy.” She breathed and kissed his hot, silky skin, swirled her tongue over his small nipples. She felt his hands on her shirt, trying to thread buttons. Summer ducked her head and quickly did it for him. Duncan stripped the blouse from her shoulders, tossed the blue silk shirt aside. Summer undid the snap and zip of her jeans, wriggled until they were around her knees. He gave her a smile and dragged the denim from her legs. Then he paused, his heated gaze ran over her and anticipation throbbed. He shifted to kneel between her legs. Duncan didn’t speak, nor did she think herself capable of uttering a word as he leaned forward to settle between her thighs. He rested on his elbows, brushed a lock of hair off her forehead. “It feels like I’ve waited forever for this.” He murmured. Summer slid her hands across his shoulders, down his muscular back to his waist. “I know.” She whispered. His smile, the light in his eyes had her heart turning over. “I need you.” She said. Duncan took her hands and moved them above her head, held them there with one hand. The other flicked open the catch of her bra, separated the two halves. His mouth found hers again and he urged her to open to him. On a sigh she did just that, welcomed his invading tongue even as she writhed against him. Once he’d had his fill, he trailed his lips down her chin, her throat, to her breast, engulfed a taut nipple in his warm mouth, used his teeth on her. She arched into him, felt him between her thighs and lifted her knees to cradle him.

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He gave the same gentle attention to the other breast, all the while holding her arms above her head. Teeth, tongue and mouth, all increased the aching throb in her lower belly. Her breath gushed in and out, heat swirled and still he played with her, dancing his tongue across her heated skin. “Please, Duncan,” she whispered harshly. He released her hands and she dragged them down his back, slipped inside his pants to his muscled butt. Duncan flexed against her, pressed against where she needed him. Duncan rolled off her, stripped his pants off and returned to remove the final barrier from her. She welcomed him back into her arms. Summer wrapped her fingers around his hard erection, guided him to her moist heat. He slid inside her, held still while she adjusted to the steely and velvet fullness of his invasion. God, yes! Her hips rose and he withdrew slightly and moved back into her. She matched his rhythm as his deep strokes filled her. The tingles flared through her veins. “More, Duncan…” She breathed and he obliged by increasing the tempo. She rose to him and he laid his mouth on hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, sucking at her. Summer hooked her ankles around his thighs and clamped her hands on his butt, urged him to thrust harder. He drove into her hard and her vision wavered, doubled. Then the tingles and pulsing exploded and she threw her head back as the orgasm crashed over her in blinding waves. Duncan groaned lost his rhythm and fiercely thrust into her one last time before holding himself still as he emptied into her. Summer tried to focus, tried to understand what happened. Duncan nuzzled her throat, breathing hard. She felt his heart pounded against hers.

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She protested as he moved to ease off her. “No, stay. Just for a little while.” She murmured and he relaxed against her. She liked the feeling of him inside her, she realised. It felt right as nothing else in her life had. Summer smoothed her fingers up Duncan’s sweat-slicked back, her thoughts finally clearing. She’d done it this time, she thought. Her choice and not an imperative from her sister. But it was a choice she couldn’t regret. And at least she’d have the memories once he’d gone back to his life and she what…? Summer had no idea. Duncan wouldn’t be able to help her, he had his duty and that meant he would have to turn her over to his superiors. What those superiors would do to her and Winter didn’t bear thinking about. She no longer believed her father’s promise of a consulting job. She’d have to leave Duncan and in doing so, leave a part of herself behind. She did hope, however, that when he thought of her – if he thought of her – he’d think kindly. He muttered something against her throat, brought her attention back to the moment. “What’s that?” She asked in a husky voice. He raised his head and shifted his body away from hers. Grinning, he leaned down and gave her a kiss. “I said, ‘I’m hungry’.” She ran her hand through his hair, smoothed her fingers down his bearded cheek. “I’m sure you are.” “So, what’s on the menu?” “You don’t want to talk about this?” His eyebrows rose. He didn’t pretend to misunderstand and he gave her a leer, shifted his hips. “I vote we do this again.” She looked away from his blue, blue eyes, then back. It wasn’t the answer she wanted – she didn’t know what answer she wanted, though a repeat was definitely

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tempting. His sleepy gaze met hers and she saw something… confused there. His thoughts were chaotic, images of her beneath him, above him surrounding him, and more. His emotions were fierce, protective and there was an underlying satisfaction… a glow of… No, she didn’t want to know and she closed off his thoughts. It didn’t help. Like Winter, his… essence… was now a subtle buzz at the back of her mind and she couldn’t shift him. Panic streaked through her and she turned away from his gaze. “If you’ll shift aside, I’ll get back into my clothes and see about getting you something to eat.” Duncan moved, allowed her to escape. She dressed with her back turned to him. Then she picked up the folder and marched towards the cell. The door swung open and she closed it behind her. “Not much point in this anymore is there?” She pushed the door open with a finger. “No, but it allows a certain amount of deception, don’t you think? If it appears to still be locked, you can sneak in anytime you want, and I can sneak out.” He said with a lascivious smile. “I would, except I found out yesterday that James has everything monitored. When he gets back, I have no doubt he’ll be reviewing the tapes.” She said quietly. Duncan bolted off the bed. “When he gets back? Where the hell has he gone? For how long?” Summer cursed silently, she hadn’t meant to say that. Well, what did she care? “He has business and he should be back either tonight or tomorrow.” “Terrific. Now’s our chance!” He stumbled around for his clothes. “Our chance? For what?” “To get the hell out of here, of course. This is perfect timing!” He jumped around like a kid at Christmas as he tried to jam his foot into the wrong leg of his trousers. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and turned the pants around. “I’ll have to brief the boys, where did I put that damn phone? I’ll need to talk with Sandy, too. We’ll have to disable the guards, then we can…”

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Summer walked toward the steel door. “Hey! Where are you going? We’ve got to get ready to leave!” He pushed open the cell door. “Nothing has changed, Duncan.” Summer said and turned. “Nothing has…” He strode to her and gripped her upper arms. “Are you insane? Of course things have changed!” He laid a hard kiss on her mouth, but she willed herself not to react. “Didn’t what we just did mean anything to you? Didn’t finding that information mean anything to you?” “Yes, Duncan, it all means something: it means I’m a dead woman.” “What?” His grip loosened and she pulled away from him. “My father will kill me if I go, he certainly has the resources to track me down. He doesn’t think of me as his daughter, but as…” she shook her head. She didn’t want to deal with that yet. “Your government sent an assassin on your team. They want me dead, and before you say anything, no, you can’t protect me and you know it.” His hands reached for her again and she stepped back. “So, at the moment, the safest place for me is in the Fort. Here, I only have a few guards to watch me. The guards – and if necessary my father - I can control if things get out of hand. But take on a government? No, not possible.” “You don’t know what he’s capable of, Summer. I do. If you stay here, he’ll…” “Do nothing, Duncan. He expected Winter to betray him and me. He expected you to seduce me as a way out of here. He expects you to impregnate me with the next generation of mutants. Then he expects you to disappear – with or without your memories – and expects me to do it for him.” Duncan’s face betrayed his shock. “Impregnate you? What… Oh, man, and we didn’t use anything. Fuck.” He backed away from her then came forward again, rubbing his forehead. “No, we didn’t.” She couldn’t feel concerned about it. She resisted the urge to smooth a hand over her flat belly. What would it be like to carry Duncan’s child within her, beneath her heart? To feel that child grow and know it was conceived in…

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Duncan’s harsh word cut her thoughts off. “You knew about this? You knew about his plans for us?” Summer shook her head. “Not until last night. Not until I went to check the information you gave me; then I discovered all sorts of things, a host of betrayals.” She could see he had his doubts and she didn’t blame him but hurt flared at his lack of trust in her, at his determination to finish his mission. While their lovemaking had been wonderful, she couldn’t afford a repeat, no matter how tempted. She refused to fall into line with her father’s plans for her and Winter; and it felt… good. She wouldn’t trust Duncan’s plans either, and that… hurt, but she could not leave, not without guarantees and he’d never be able to provide them. She needed to get away from him, away from the temptation of his body and away from her thoughts. “I’ll get your breakfast now,” she said and lowered her head. “Can I… Can I come with you?” “No.” She said, her voice empty of emotion. She ignored his frown. “If the guards see you, they have orders to shoot to kill. I will not be responsible for you.” He jabbed a thumb into his chest. “I’m responsible for me, Summer, that’s what choices are all about.” “Okay,” she nodded, “let me put it another way: No, I don’t want you anywhere near my kitchen.” Duncan grinned at her, the cocky bastard. “Afraid I’ll distract you?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “No. I’m afraid I’ll stick you with a knife.” “Oh, honey, you cook too well to have that sort of accident.” Summer looked him dead in the eye without blinking. “It won’t be an accident.” She saw a faint colouring on his cheekbones. Her point made, she went through the door. It was lockable, but there wasn’t any point; not any more, not since Winter. Summer’s movements were slow as she made her way to her room. There she set the folder on her bedside table, stripped off and stepped into the shower.

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She had to get the smell of him off; her heart wanted to embrace his scent, roll around in it. She couldn’t go around mooning after him; he was a soldier and soldiers knew their duty. The best she could do was try to distance herself from him. No more distractions, no more kisses or slow hands. Summer ducked her head under the hot water. She didn’t think she’d be successful, if he wanted to find her, he probably could. With one touch, one kiss, she’d be all over him again. Now that she was clean, she let the tears flow. Great rushes of water streamed down her face and she sank down to the warmed tiles and hugged herself. There was no way out for her; or for Winter. Her father had betrayed them, used them for his own purposes; the men sent to rescue them had betrayed them as well, pretending to care, pretending to have their best interests at heart, and yet playing with them. They knew well what would happen once they were outside the Fort and in the hands of the government. Summer couldn’t summon the energy to care any longer. It was as if the previous twenty-four hours had scoured her out from the inside and there was nothing to fill the gaping hole. She longed for the safety of Duncan’s arms, but it was no longer an option. For an hour, she’d forgotten everything except him and now, it was over. She had finally had a taste of what Winter chased, and now she knew why. Fed up with her useless tears, she rose, turned the taps off and got out of the shower. Once dressed in jeans and a matching blue jersey top, she dried her hair and her tears, put herself back together and sought out Duncan with her mind. He paced his cell, angry at something. She switched her focus to Winter. She was with Sandy again and they were still talking. What did they have to talk about for so long? She had to speak with her sister. There. Winter and Sandy shared a kiss between the bars of his cell, his hands held her gently. Then her sister eased back with a soft smile and left. After breakfast, she decided and went down into the kitchen.

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The professionally appointed room was empty. Louis, finished with his morning duties, was gone - at least until lunch. Summer set about making a simple meal of scrambled eggs, bacon and a mound of toast. Summer let the memories of her childhood flow through her. Winter, she realised, wasn’t a focal part of the memories, her father stood out as if he deliberately stood between the twins. One favoured and golden, the other a pariah, unwanted but tolerated. How often had the three of them dined together? She couldn’t recall, but more often than not, her memory supplied her father, sitting at the head of the table, and Winter absent. Were those the times he punished her? And their school lessons. She was as mischievous as Winter, and yet, her sister was blamed most of the time; even when Summer confessed, his icy glare settled on Winter. How did she make it up to Winter? All those years… She stood back from the counter and she discovered that she’d managed to put the food together without concentrating. Summer searched for Winter and found her in the library. Curious. The library was a room Winter rarely ventured into and she had the look of a woman determined to find something. Well, she’d drop this off to Duncan and head to the library herself. Downstairs, Duncan was back bouncing his ball against the far wall. She didn’t want to talk with him and she quickly slid the tray under the bar. He seemed just as unwilling to talk to her. He didn’t look at her, kept his focus on the wall with grim determination. Disappointment surged. Summer tried to reinforce her vow to stay away from him, but found it difficult. She had to remember a relationship was impossible and the reasons why, but her hands reached out to push the door open. Her fingers brushed the cold steel, then she turned away, walked to the door. The hurt lingered. She paused by the steel door, but the bouncing never hesitated.

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Chapter Seventeen Aiden Cosgrove leaned his fists on the windowsill and watched the pink and gold tinged sunset fade into dark blue night. Lord, but I need a vacation. He thought. As expected, the satellite imagery from northern Asia confirmed the movement of men and missiles to a launch site in North Korea. He glanced over at the photographs spread out over his desk, turned his body to rest his butt on the sill. The cursor on his computer screen blinked, awaited his input. On a sigh, he went to sit down, to finish the damn report and send on up the chain for others to read and report on. “Hell with it.” He muttered and took his jacket from the back of his chair. He slid an arm in and opened his office door, saw movement in the darkened atrium. Surely, his secretary had left for the day. “Maureen?” “No, sir.” Lieutenant Callender murmured and rose from the secretary’s chair. “Lieutenant.” He acknowledged with a nod and stepped back into his office. “You have something for me?” “Yes, sir.” Callender followed him, glanced at the unshaded window. Aiden dropped the Venetian blinds, twisted the stick to close them. “Better give me the good news first.” He pointed to a chair but Callender shook her head. “I have news, sir, but it’s bad and worse news.” At her words, Aiden felt a glimmer of triumph. Bad news for Beckett, meant good news for him. “Better give me the highlights; then we can formulate a plan.” Callender set a file on the desk. It was thicker than he expected and he looked at her. The Lieutenant stared back at him. “I have friends, who have friends, sir.” She said and raised an eyebrow. “It’s good to have friends outside the military, sir, especially in industries of information gathering.”

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She dropped her gaze to the file. Aiden had a flash of understanding. It was the closest Callender would admit to having contacts in the CIA, NSA, FBI and probably a number of other acronyms. “All confirmed?” He asked. “With secondary and tertiary sources, sir.” “Right then.” He eased out of his jacket. “Highlights won’t cut it. Take a seat, Lieutenant and tell me… everything.” *** Summer jogged up the stairs to her room for the folder, then down to the library. If Duncan could remain focused on his task then so could she and her sister needed to read the file before her father returned. Winter was cursing a blue streak as she accessed the computer library list. “We need to talk.” Summer said. Winter turned in her chair and snarled, her eyes afire with fury. “So talk!” Summer held up the folder she held in one hand. “What’s that?” Winter growled. “Depending on what you’re looking for, it might be the condensed answers.” She said bitterly and lowered her hand. “You need to read this.” “Has it got our birth information?” Summer lifted an eyebrow. “No. I didn’t think to look.” Winter turned back to the screen. “Well, that’s what I’m hunting for.” “Why?” Summer took the seat next to the table. Her sister gave an aggrieved sigh. “Because I want to know who we are. So far, I have found exactly… nothing, and I’m registered on the site.” She sat back. “Here, you’re the queen of research, why don’t you have a look?” “Have you been talking to Duncan?” Winter’s lip curled. “No. At least not about this.”

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Summer glared at her, but it was a topic for later. She offered Winter the file again. “Duncan suggested that we weren’t any relation to father, given our lack of resemblance. But I think the information you’re seeking will be in father’s office.” Winter sat up excited. “And he’s not here.” She pushed back the chair and Summer reached out for her, touched her arm. “He’ll be back sometime tonight or tomorrow, so you might not have time for a complete search. What I need is for you to look at this before you go haring off.” As usual, her sister eyed her warily. “Why don’t you give me the highlights?” “It’s a précis of father’s business dealings and how he managed it.” She raised an eyebrow, indicating that she was pissed about it. Winter gave her a faint smile and a nod. “There are also… his future plans for us… me, actually, but you’re in there, too. Um… what else did I purloin?” She opened it and began pulling out photocopied pages, handed them to Winter. Her sister began reading and slowly lowered herself back into her seat. She didn’t ask any questions, simply held out her hand for the next sheet, which Summer obligingly provided. Halfway through reading, the doors to the library opened and their father’s pokerfaced secretary, Chambers, walked in. He was tall, silver-haired, and dignified, but Summer didn’t like him, perhaps because she couldn’t read his thoughts? His elegant, cultured voice was unemotional, business-like whenever he addressed either her or Winter, as if he kept himself tightly controlled at all times. He gave them a slightly insolent bow. “Miss Summer, Miss Winter, I regret to inform you that your father has been delayed. He will be returning by the end of the week.” James’ secretary bowed out of the room and the women looked at each other. “Do you think he’s staying out of the country on purpose?” Winter asked, her tone just as arctic as her name. “Maybe. I’m thinking time has run out and he doesn’t want to be here should the Fort be raided.” She cocked her head. “I wonder why no-one has. I should have asked

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Chambers; he’s the one supposedly continuing the negotiations.” And then it struck her again that he father lied to Summer about her working with General Beckett. That he’d diverted her attention from the true issue: the release of the men. Or should she call them hostages? Winter shrugged. “So look into Chambers.” Summer shuddered. “Tried that. He keeps his thoughts to himself. He doesn’t project any thoughts at all. It’s like running into a brick wall.” “What about Cosgrove or Beckett?” “No. I’ve looked into many heads at father’s request. No more. I’ll decide whom to skim thoughts off, thank you.” “Then how will we know of any pre-emptive action?” “Both Cosgrove and Beckett have to know father won’t let the men go as they are. So they must be waiting for something. With father out of the country, they’ll act as soon as they know.” She raised two fingers. “Two options: either the Colonel is planning to storm the place to retrieve his men and us, or…” she tilted her head and eyed her sister, gauging her mood. “he’s planning to storm the place and retrieve us.” Winter chuckled. “Okay.” She waved the sheaf of papers in her hand. “Any more bombshells you’d like to drop on me?” “But of course. Half a bomb wouldn’t nearly be as fun, now would it?” Summer gave her a twisted smile and Winter stared at her curious. She opened her mouth to ask a question but Summer shook her head. “Ask when you’ve read it all.” Winter shrugged and held out her hand. When she was finished reading, she looked vaguely sick. “Where did you get this?” “From his office.” Winter looked at her. “A set up? To test your loyalty?” “Not yours, too?” Summer asked and Winter shook her head. “He’s always known I’d be a problem when I grew up; I was, after all, a problem child, why would I change?” Winter heaved a sigh. “No, Summer, I can read between

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the lines just as well as you, and while he plans for you to continue to assist him in his nebulous ambitions, for me, I’ll be a breeder of the future. Producing strange little kids that he can manipulate, educate and train just as he did us.” Winter handed the paper back, shut down the computer and rose. “You’ll join me in maternity, but you’ll also have more freedom.” “I wonder if that’s why he’s gone to South America? To set up a home somewhere else where he can’t be interrupted by something as inconvenient as the law.” Summer frowned. “Brazil doesn’t have an extradition agreement.” “Maybe he has more information up in his office.” “Maybe he does. But what do we do with this folder in the meantime?” Winter chewed her lip. “We could give it to Sandy.” “Ah, yes.” The memory of Duncan’s hands on her rose and heat flared through her. “And why did you let Duncan out?” “I didn’t.” Winter denied. “I simply removed the covering from the lock. He got out by himself.” “Hair splitting, Winter.” “Hmm… probably.” Winter replied in a distracted tone. “What are you thinking?” Summer asked. “I’m trying to work out how to wreck Father’s ambitions. I’m trying to think of a way out for the two of us. If we freed Sandy and Captain Duquesne, will they try to fulfil their mission?” She looked sad at the thought and Summer mourned with her. “Yes, Winter, they will. It’s what they do. Duncan has already tried to get me to leave with him.” “Figures.” She muttered. “Then we’ll have to find a way of avoiding them, too.” “They’ll hunt us down, Winter, and I am singularly incapable of living outside this Fort.” Summer confessed. Winter gave her a hard smile. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not.”

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“You’ve been here as long as I, Winter, why would you be able to survive where I cannot?” “Because, sweet sister of mine, I’ve been reading, researching and practicing for as along as I can remember.” Summer looked at her, confused. “Why would you do that?” “Remember our conversation of a few of nights ago? About Father threatening to throw me out?” “Oh.” Summer said. “Yes, I do.” “From that moment the threat was issued, I set about planning what to do in case the evil bastard followed through.” “Jeez, Winter…” Summer hurt for her. It hurt to know how alone her sister had been, and that she’d never realised. She’d been too wrapped up in her desire to please her father to care about what he did with Winter. “Now don’t go all sympathetic on me, it was the way it was. You were the golden child, and I was not. Simple.” “Please, Winter…” Her sister lifted a hand to forestall any reply. “No, Summer, this is something I’m prepared for. And anyway, Father never valued my talents, he has little or no idea how I can use it, because he was never interested. You, on the other hand, could present him with all sorts of intriguing ideas. So don’t get sappy on me, girl. The good news is: I’m better than he expects. He has no idea what his neglect has wrought. I’m stronger, more cunning and more talented than he thinks. We can do this, Summer.” Her eyes were filled with fiery green determination as she stared at Summer. And Summer, unable to look away, simply nodded in agreement. “Okay, but how?” “I don’t know. Yet. But if it comes down to it, I’m telling you now, I won’t go quietly into government custody. I won’t be used ever again. Nor abused, manipulated or threatened. I’ll change them all to something sticky and smelly.” “Winter!” Summer said appalled. “You can’t kill them!”

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A chill went through Summer as a strange light came into her sister’s eyes. “If they try to kill me first, Summer, all bets are off.” “We can do this together, Winter; we don’t have to be violent about it.” “No, I hope it doesn’t come to that, but it always pays to have a last resort plan.” Summer didn’t agree with her sister’s outlook. Even if they were alive and captive, she, at least, would still have hope, still out think their captors. They had no protection against her or Winter. “Winter, we’ll come up with a safer alternative. I guess I’ll leave the escape planning to you. First, though, we need more information. And I know where we can get it.” She gave Winter a smile. Winter grinned. “And thanks to Father’s arrogance, plenty of time to trash the joint.” *** Duncan ate his breakfast without tasting it, slid the empty tray under the bars. He knew it was good; even as upset as Summer was, she wouldn’t serve anything less than world-class. No, the problem was he had other things to think about. Pocklington was gone from the complex. That was a plus. He was free; also a plus. He had contact with his men; a plus. And he’d identified the assassin; another plus. Summer felt caught in a difficult situation; a negative. The guards had shoot to kill orders; another negative. He had no idea how to protect Summer and Winter once they were out; negative. And he couldn’t hide them - Cosgrove wanted them badly. Was there anything worse than that negative? So, he had good news, bad news and the worst news. How did he balance everything out so everyone ended up happy? Well, he allowed, there was no way he was going to make Casper happy. That bastard was off his team. There was no way he would recommend the man for anything other than washing dishes now. Okay. He had to neutralise Casper; he could do that. He threw the ball at the wall again, automatically caught the rebound. He could get the men out, but he’d need the true layout of the Fort and weapons?

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Next. Protecting the two women from his own government. Two ideas occurred to him. The first was to make them vanish. He could explain they hadn’t been here in the first place. But would his men back him up? Duncan snorted. Casper would most definitely blab. Okay then, he’d somehow have to convince the Pentagon the sisters were dead; that would solve the problems all the way around. On the down side, it meant he could never contact Summer again. And Sandy would have to do without Winter. Could he ask his friend to throw away a chance of happiness? No, he could not. The best he could do was to ask the man. Duncan rubbed his chest, pressed against the ache in his heart. Never see Summer again? Why did that feel so damned painful? She meant too much to him, he realised. And the thought of a life on the run with her didn’t appeal, either. The sacrifices they’d have to make would burn, and they’d end up hating each other. And why was he thinking of going AWOL with a woman he barely knew and was wanted by the authorities? He decided to leave the problem alone until something else occurred to him. The last part of his plan was to make sure Sir James Wellesley Pocklington the third never got the opportunity to see his plans come to fruition. He needed a copy of Summer’s file; needed to get it to… who? He doubted Colonel Cosgrove’s motives. If he could send an assassin to kill the twins, he’d think nothing of disposing of one irritating Captain. General Beckett, then. Go over Cosgrove’s head. Satisfied with his thinking, he glanced at the telephone. Maybe the sergeant had an idea on implementation. It was time for a group meeting, though not in person. He’d call on Sandy later to ask his opinion, too. The phone connected without any buzz. “Yes, sir?” Java sounded out of breath. “What have you been up to?”

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“Oh, you know, house work, mediating between squabbling children, formulating exit strategies. The usual.” Duncan grinned. “Morale sounds good then.” “Yes, sir, it is.” “Okay, send the children to the corner, I need to talk to you.” He heard Java give the command to ‘piss off and give him some privacy, Daddy wanted to talk dirty to him’. And Duncan laughed. “Oh, man, you crack me up, Java.” “We aim to please here at the Hotel Fun Times. What’s up, boss?” Java lowered his voice. “I need an exit strategy that won’t get the women killed or captured.” “Huh. You don’t ask for much. Can I ask why?” Java rumbled. “Look at it this way: those women are dangerous. If the government can’t have them to experiment on to find out how they work, to use for their own ends, they will see them dead. They don’t deserve that, not after what Pocklington has done to them. I want them safe.” He realised he’d been a little too vehement when silence greeted his words and he cursed himself. “She got to you.” Java murmured with awe. “Damn, she really got to you, didn’t she?” “Yeah.” He sighed. “Lucky for you, I’ve given it some thought. And you’re right: they don’t deserve what Casper or his boss have in mind. Nor do they deserve to be locked up somewhere like guinea pigs. I like her, too. But, sir? I don’t see anyway out of it.” “No.” Duncan replied in a low voice. “Neither do I, but we have to find one. It’s our duty, our job, our very honour is at stake here.” “Yes, sir, I know.” Java replied quietly. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

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Satisfied that his sergeant would try, Duncan hung up. Java was the brains trust. In any dire situation, he always managed to find a way out. He really should be an officer by now, Duncan thought, but his hobby of off-duty revelry had denied him the opportunity. A shame really, and something he could perhaps do something about once they were out, free and done with this mission. In the meantime, he’d better brief Sandy on the situation. He had to find out if Sandy had as much influence over Winter as he hoped. It was going to be Winter who set them free; as Summer said, she was the key. All he needed was for Sandy to turn her.

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Chapter Eighteen “Lover boy’s out.” Winter murmured as she scanned the screens. She sat in the visitor’s chair and worked James’ computer. “Hmmm?” Summer said as she riffled through yet another filing cabinet. “I said, ‘lover boy is out’ and prowling around.” Summer came over to the monitors and watched as Duncan stealthily moved from his cell to the corner. He looked around and snuck off down to the door to the next cell block. “He’s going to your man.” She grinned as Winter winced. “I wouldn’t so much call him ‘mine’ as ‘temporarily borrowed’.” “Really.” Summer teased. Winter glared at her with a mix of anger and hurt. “He doesn’t love me, Summer. That makes him ‘borrowed’.” “I’m sorry.” Summer said, contrite. “Hey, you’re in the same boat pal, so save it.” Winter grumped and returned to her surveillance. Summer stared at her. No, she wasn’t. She didn’t love Duncan, did she? No, she wasn’t capable of it, had no experience with the kind of emotional upheaval her sister… she cut the thought off. Yes, she did. Duncan’s refusal to understand her and his determination to see her incarcerated hurt her deeply. How could he want that for her, after he’d been so gentle, so tender with her? How could he now sanction condemning her to a lifetime of prison? Duncan Duquesne was a man of honour, but doing his duty would cost her a chance at true freedom. In unguarded moments, she couldn’t stop wanting to talk with him, touch him, be with him; couldn’t stop her heart from soaring every time he was near. Her shoulders slumped. Winter was right. She was in the same boat. God, they were both doomed. “We are buggered.” She muttered.

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“What’s that?” Winter called. Summer turned and slumped in James’ leather chair. She put her elbows on the desk and put her chin in her hands. “I said ‘we are both buggered’.” “So what else is new?” Winter shrugged. “No, I mean it. Even if we get out of here, we’ll never be with them again.” “I repeat: What else is new?” At Winter’s bitter words, Summer looked up from her contemplation of the hand carved, hand crafted antique desk set. “How do you get over it?” Winter’s jade eyes shifted from the computer screen and regarded her with a sombre expression. “With these two? I don’t think we ever will.” Summer sighed. “Not helping.” “Not meant to.” “You could lie to me.” Summer suggested. “No, I couldn’t, you’d know if I did.” Winter said sourly and then snorted. “No, you wouldn’t, would you. Summer’s Rule holds sway in everything you do, doesn’t it.” “It always has.” Summer said wearily “You do realise, you might have to break that rule for us to survive out there?” “Yes, I do.” Summer laid her arms on the desktop rested her cheek on her forearms. “Just another step in my moral decline and becoming a normal person.” Winter finger-flicked the top of her head. “Ow!” Summer sat up and glared at her sister. “What was that for?” “Get over yourself, Summer, and quit moping! We’ve never been normal; we’ll never be ‘normal’ and you know it. So stop being such a misery guts and embrace who and what you are.” “And what am I? Exactly?” Summer ground out. Winter rolled her eyes, then grinned. “A mutant, like me, pal.” “Oh, joy.”

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“Summer! You’ve had a lifetime to get used to this, so what’s the problem?” Summer lifted a shoulder. “Maybe I’m only now realising just how different we are.” “But you’ve always known! “Known, yes, in a purely academic way. The reality of that difference, the men downstairs and their mission, father’s plans for us, is only now coming home to roost.” Winter snorted. “Well, aren’t you the late bloomer.” “I’m finding out all sorts of things, so don’t get pissy with me, it’s not your safe, comfortable world that’s been destroyed.” Winter levelled an arrogant glare at her. “Welcome to the real world. Finally.” “Sometimes Winter, you can be a real bitch.” Summer grumped. “Summer? You have no idea how much of a total bitch, I can be.” “I’m going to find out though, aren’t I.” “Yep.” Winter nodded and returned to reading the computer screen. “Now let me get back to this. It’s important.” “What is it?” “A dossier on security measures. Hmm… it’s dated just before the Spec Ops guys got here. I’ve accessed dear Daddy’s e-mail account and… Ah… what’s this?” Summer watched her sister’s expression pale. “Uh, oh.” Winter murmured. “That doesn’t sound good.” “It’s not.” She sighed and glanced at Summer. “I figure we’ve got maybe a day, two days max, to come up with a plan before we lose everything.” “Uh, oh.” “Let me read it to you: Be advised the Justice Department has issued a warrant for the arrest and detention of any and all personnel contained within the property known as Patriot’s Fort. Charges include: unlawful detention of military personnel, industrial espionage and…” Winter’s lips quirked, “if I can make it stick, treason, you bastard.

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You want to play hard-ball with me, I’ll crush you. You don’t get to double-cross me and expect a free pass. Signed General Gordon Beckett, counter-intelligence group, blah, blah, blah.” “General Beckett again.” Summer said. “He’s the one who sent the assassins.” She chewed her lip. “They’ll come in force.” “Sure will.” “We have to be gone by then.” “Yep.” When she didn’t say any more, Summer asked the obvious. “Anything come to mind?” Winter looked at her, her expression bleak. “Best I can come up with is to pack light and run hard.” “The guards won’t let us leave.” Winter grinned like a shark. “As if they have any choice.” Summer’s eyes rounded. “You want me to…” “Jesus, no! I’m not a killer any more than you are, Mer.” “Then what…?” “Make them look the other way, dumb ass!” “Oh, right.” She rolled her eyes. “For a minute there…” “Yeah, I got that. Come on, we have to make plans.” Summer pressed her hands onto the desktop and pushed back from the desk. As she did, the pad shifted and showed the corner of a yellowed document. She drew the paper out. Summer read it and then slumped back into her seat. Tears surged into her eyes and nausea churned. Her entire life was built on a lie perpetrated by her father. She thought it bad enough to discover his wretched business dealings – and using her to do it – but this! She’d had no reason to question her parentage, until Duncan, until he forced her to question it, question everything.

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The horror of what her father had done… to both of them. “Dear God.” “Summer?” She heard the worry in her sister’s voice and snapped her focus back. She’d thought herself empty, but this paper proved her wrong. “Here.” She thrust the document at her sister and lifted the pad out of the way. There were more sheets, flattened by years of pressure. Did she want to look? “So. Now we know.” Winter sighed. “Bastard. Cambodia.” Winter said softly. “Christ, we weren’t even born here.” She carefully folded the sheets and put them into her pocket. “What else is there?” James had to register them with the embassy before he could take them out of the country. It wasn’t unusual for children of villagers in the highlands to be registered as toddlers or older. Winter held the U.S. embassy embossed document in her hands. Summer leaned on the desk edge and stared down at the documents. A bill of sale from Jennifer Ann Porter to James Wellesley Pocklington the third - with ‘paid in full’ written on it - for two six-year-olds; and a letter, addressed to her and Winter, still in it’s seamed envelope, as if James had unfolded and folded the pages many times. Wordlessly, Summer handed her the bill of sale and also picked up the envelope. The bastard hadn’t even given them the consolation of knowing their mother. Although, she snorted bitterly, if her mother could sell them, what more could she say? Summer silently gazed at the envelope, willed herself to open it. Winter was equally silent and she glanced up. Tears streaked down her sister’s cheeks. “She didn’t want us.” She said brokenly and Summer realised that Winter was referring to just about everyone else in their lives, too. “We have each other.” Summer said quietly. “Oh, great!” Winter dragged her sleeve across her eyes. “You had Father’s love. I had nothing! You hear me? Nothing!” “Love? That prick doesn’t know the meaning of the word. We’re assets, Winter, assets to be used in business and for breeding; nothing more and nothing less!” “At least he talked to you. Me, he treated like a leper.”

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“Talk.” Summer kept her calm. It was all painfully clear to her now. “Not really. We discussed business, we discussed psychology, usually mine, and he lectured. He was as interested in me as he was you; interested in - now I think of it - how we worked. He wanted to know everything. And he compared us, like lab rats. Oh, no Winter, I no more had his love than you did.” “I’m going to kill him, Mer.” Winter said calmly, her eyes betrayed absolute certainty. “And I… will help you.” Summer felt nothing for him. James Wellesley Pocklington the third, for all his money, power and influence, was nothing. “We’ll wait until he returns. I’ll freeze him up, and you can turn him into something… unnatural.” Summer’s burgeoning hatred broke through her calm and her smile matched Winter’s wicked grin. *** Duncan was back in his cell when Summer came down with his lunch. She had a lighter step and he wondered about it. She even smiled as she bent down to slide the tray under the bars, then stopped, stood straight and pulled the door open instead. “Here you go. Beef Wellington.” Duncan eyebrows rose at her upbeat mood. He took the tray and sat on his bunk. “What’s got you so chirpy?” he asked and began eating. Damn, it was good. “Murder.” She said grimly and he all but choked on the first mouthful. “You wanna run that by me again?” She gave him a look of arrogant certainty and he wondered if she’d finally gone around the bend. “Cold-blooded, pre-meditated, messy, murder.” She left him to stew on that while she got the stool and came back. “Murder.” He said. Summer nodded. “Cold-blooded…” “Premeditated.” He said.

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“Messy, murder.” “I’m gonna go out on a limb here, and say it isn’t any of my men.” She shook her head. “No, you’re men are safe.” “So given that, I’m going to pick door number three and say: your father.” Summer nodded then stopped. “Except he’s not my father.” She rose from the stool, came into the cell and sat next to him. “No, he’s not.” He nearly lost his appetite. Nearly. “But it’s not okay to kill someone because you don’t share genes with them. There are laws against it.” “Yes, I know.” “Then why, for God’s sake, would you risk your freedom to kill a man who isn’t worth it?” “Because it needs to be done, and you know it. This way, you and your men are off the hook.” He shook his head, confused. “Let me finish this excellent repast, and I’ll get back to you.” He paused, the fork halfway to his mouth. “May I have some coffee?” “Well, damn Duncan, you’ve been out roaming around and you can’t get your own?” He felt slightly ashamed. He was so used to Summer making the coffee that he didn’t think. He went to set the tray aside, but her hand covered one of his and she rose. “I’ll get it, you finish your lunch.” She gave him a pat and went to the utility room. He was done by the time she came back and they both eased themselves back on the bed to rest against the stone wall. “So, tell me about your plan of patricide.” She nudged him. “It’s not ‘patricide’, Duncan, he’s no relation. In fact, Winter and I are… chattels. Yes, chattels, bought and sold. James apparently owns us.” “Owns…? He didn’t adopted you?” Duncan was horrified. Sold and bought… like… slaves?

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“Owns, as in he has the paper work to prove it” She said. “Or, I should say, he had the paper work. Now, Winter does and very shortly, Sandy will have a copy of it as well.” “Damn. No wonder you’re pissed.” “In a quiet, sedate murderous way, yes, I guess I am.” “And your plan?” “I’ll freeze him, and Winter will… do what Winter does.” “Jesus.” He whispered. These two… he couldn’t even think it. Could he talk them out of it? No, not Winter. She was the wild card. “You don’t think he should face justice?” He asked quietly and sipped his coffee. “Yes. That’s what we’re doing. Giving him justice.” “By taking his life?” “He took ours!” She said sharply. “And since you’re going to be imprisoned anyway, why not take this opportunity to get rid of your tormentor. Is that it?” She turned to look at him, curled her legs under. Her eyes held a plea for understanding. “This is justice, Duncan, for years of mental abuse, emotional neglect. If you knew what he did to Winter… What he tried to do with me… This way, we’ll have our vengeance before you… before we…” Duncan felt his heart crack. Literally. The pain in his chest was almost overwhelming. “No, Summer. Please, don’t do this.” She lifted a shoulder. “If you can think of an alternative, I’m all ears.” “Give me time, Summer!” She looked at him, sadness filling her blue eyes. “I can’t. It’s a commodity we no longer have.” She drained her mug. “Winter hacked into James’ e-mail and discovered…” She blew out a breath. “Let’s just say that in less than forty-eight hours, your General Beckett will raid the Fort, and come hell or high water, he plans to get you out of here. Winter and I? Well, he’ll set his assassins onto us when you’re not looking.”

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“What?” Duncan gaped at her. Beckett ordered the assassination? “Beckett…” “Is in this up to his eyeballs, Duncan. He’s been negotiation with… well, Chambers now, and he’s out of patience. He’s even issued warrants, so time is up. I don’t know why he wants us dead, but this impending raid gives his men opportunity to fulfil their mission.” “Come with us! Sandy and I will protect you.” He said desperately. “You know that’s not possible, Duncan. You know what will happen.” “I’ll think of something!” “I’m sure you will, but will you come up with a plan in time?” Despair rose. What she was going to do was wrong. What she was asking of him was impossible and yet he saw no solution, not yet. “I’m working on it, Summer.” He gazed into her eyes, felt a hum in the centre of his chest, as if she’d taken up residence. If he failed… he cut the thought off. He’d make damn sure he didn’t, but he felt the ticking of the clock as it counted down.

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Chapter Nineteen Summer sucked in a breath as tingly, luscious, mouth-drying heat burned through her, sensitised her skin. But even as the smouldering need pooled, she felt her sister’s yearning. “Winter is saying goodbye.” She murmured, unwilling and unable to reach out to the one man who could make her happy, but could not save her from what she had to do. He’d never said he loved her; never intimated he felt anything for her. She wouldn’t ask him to… to... “Summer.” She quickly slid off the bed. “No, it’s okay, I’ll deal with it.” If the current situation wasn’t so ludicrous, so serious, she’d probably laugh at the inconvenient link with her sister, but it was serious. She wouldn’t involve Duncan in her troubles any longer. He was an innocent in James’ machinations and it wasn’t his fault this link to her sister went so deep. She went to the cell door, but didn’t open it. Duncan came up behind her and pulled her empty mug from her hand, tossed it aside. She winced at the clatter the metal mug made as it hit the stone floor. He wrapped her in his warm, muscled arms. Here was safety, a traitorous thought murmured, here was life and freedom. The heat rose, flushed her skin, and she didn’t know if it was Winter or Duncan’s closeness. Did she care? His scent surrounded her, his strength soothed her and his heartbeat against her back relaxed her. Yes, she cared, more than she’d ever admit. She craved his touch, his nearness, and if he let her go, let her walk away… He nuzzled her neck. “We’ve been through this before, Summer.” “I don’t want…” Her breath cut off as his hands came up to cup her breasts. “Don’t want what?” He whispered in her ear. One hand remained on her breast, his thumb brushing against a stiffened peak. The other slowly brushed down her stomach and lower.

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“You to feel… uh… obligated.” She said, breathless. Her pulse increased and she swallowed, licked her dry lips. “Oh, no, Summer,” he murmured, “trust me, it’s a pleasure.” He drew out the last word, as his lips brushed the side of her neck and with nimble fingers lowered the zip on her jeans. “Sheer,” his hand crept inside, another surge of heat pressed her back against him to feel the ridge of his arousal, and a low moan escaped from her throat. “Unadulterated,” his other hand unbuttoned her shirt and he tucked his hand inside to push her bra out of the way. “Pleasure.” “Duncan.” She whispered urgently. Uncontrollable passion built as arousal zinged through her blood, shattered her flimsy control. “Just hold on, sweetheart.” He said and dragged her jeans and panties down. Then she heard the rustle of his clothing. Before she could turn, he’d eased a knee between her thighs and separated them. She pushed her hips back as he came forward, pressed his hot length into her. “Ah, God.” He muttered and she grabbed onto the bars of the cell. He held her hips and thrust into her roughly. She didn’t care; she simply matched him, gripped the bars and found the rhythm. Summer revelled in the hot, silky slide of him inside her again. He was deeper from this angle and she wallowed in it, in him and every smooth stroke that brought her closer to the edge. Sweat slicked her heated body, her legs trembled and she tightened her grip on the bars. The first orgasm rolled over her like a hot ocean wave, but he wasn’t finished with her. He simply held on as she squeezed him until her muscles relaxed. Then he started all again. Summer felt the connection with Winter fade, leaving her alone with Duncan, but the passion remained hers and hers alone. She leaned over more and he welcomed the invitation, plunged harder until she felt the rise of another orgasm. His strokes deepened

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and when she exploded this time, he came with her. She threw her head back and a rainbow of stars speckled her vision Her breathing began to level out. It was all she could do stay upright and didn’t protest when. he stripped her of the rest of her clothes and led her to the shower. There, he turned on the water and washed her. It was the most gentle and tender thing anyone had done for her. And he punctuated it with soft smiles, soothing kisses and quiet words. Summer thought her heart already broken, but now he mashed the pieces until she felt her heart would never be whole. She began to cry and he held her without a word. When she was clothed, she opened the cell door and then paused. “No matter what happens, Duncan, I want you to know that I… I…” He had a soft, warm expression on his face, and it gave her courage to speak. She dragged in a breath her eyes on his. “I love you.” She said and his smile vanished and the warmth in his eyes cooled to blank shock. A sharp spike of pain exploded in her chest. Had she thought her heart broken? This agony, this torture… She blinked back tears of rejection and walked away without looking back. *** Duncan watched her leave, stunned into silence. She… what? All the blood left his face and warmth pooled around that hum his heart. But before he could blink, before he could reply, she vanished. “Damn it!” He pushed open the cell door, but she had disappeared. He checked the utility room, both hallways, even jogged up the stairs. This Fort was too large for him to search for her. Of all the bombshells she could have dropped on him, that was the most unexpected and the most welcome. He ran a hand through his hair. She’d looked so stricken at his lack of response to her admission.

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Hadn’t he just shown her how much he cared for her? Duncan returned to his cell. But then, he never actually gave her the words, told her how he truly felt. Jeez, he was crazy about her. He couldn’t keep his damn hands off her, had found himself listening for her footsteps with anticipation. Every night he dreamed of her and every morning had a woody from just thinking about her. She made him think, she made him laugh, she made him explore boundaries he’d never thought to. Was it love? Was this throat choking fear for her a part of it? Yeah. He rubbed a hand over his mouth. He really was in love with her. Worse, he’d let her walk away, thinking he was as much of a bastard as her father. And with the shit that was bout to fall on them all, he had no time to correct his mistake. With a spike of rage, he kicked the lunch tray. Enough of this! He stormed out and strode around to Sandy’s cell. His friend was snuggled up with Winter and he felt his lip curl as he pulled open the door. “Get up, Sandy, we have work to do.” Duncan snapped. “Trio?” Sandy slid out of Winter’s arms, leaving to hike herself up on her elbow. “What’s happening?” Duncan indicated Winter with his chin. “She didn’t tell you?” “About James and the reinforcements? Yeah, she did.” “Then why are you lying about?” “Um…” Sandy finally recognised the urgency and quickly dressed. He watched Winter as her gaze swept over Sandy like he was a feast. “Winter, I need you to do your mojo on the men’s doors, and Sandy, you need to get them to the front entrance.” Humour lit the woman’s eyes and she slowly ran her gaze over him. “We need to hurry here, Winter.” Duncan said impatient. “Why?”

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Duncan’s hands formed into fists. “Because if we don’t leave now, Beckett’s men will descend like the wrath of God and Sandy and I will have no chance to get you and your sister out of here.” Winter lay on her back, stared up at the ceiling. “We’re not leaving.” “You’re not?” Sandy asked incredulous and went to kneel by the bed. She looked at him, resignation stamped on her face. “No, we’re not. We have work to do here ourselves.” Duncan snorted. “And murder is such hard work.” “Murder?” Sandy looked perplexed and Winter rolled over to glare at Duncan. He didn’t care. “Winter and Summer plan to take James out of the picture. Permanently.” “Listen, Winter...” Sandy reached out for Winter’s hand. She pulled away and sat up, hooked her arms around her knees, refused to look at him. “It’s nothing to do with you, Sandy. You need to get to your men and get out of here. Summer and I can take care of ourselves.” “No, Winter. You can’t do this.” Sandy’s voice pleaded and Duncan understood how he felt. It seemed these two women had managed to tie both him and Justin in knots without even trying. And now they wanted to sacrifice themselves as well to stop a madman? It wasn’t their job to stop James, and yet Duncan recognised the gifted sisters were in the best position to see it done. Hadn’t he, himself, decided that Sir James needed killing? And now he was baulking because it was Summer and Winter who were perfectly placed to carry out that mission? His thoughts petered out as logic over-ruled his heart. The women were right. If it was going to be done, it had be soon, before Pocklington discovered the shift in the twins’ loyalties. With a sigh of resignation, he returned his attention to Sandy who was quietly arguing with Winter.

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“Lieutenant Beech.” He barked in his most formal tone. Sandy jerked away from his lover and stood. “Sir?” “Leave Winter alone. She’s right.” Winter’s eyes betrayed her surprise, but she gave Duncan a nod. Justin’s gaze narrowed with fury and a snarl curled his mouth. “Right? What are you talking about? You’re countenancing murder? Putting our mission at risk?” He poked a finger into Duncan’s chest. “Our job, Lieutenant, is to rescue the daughters of Sir James, and, if the opportunity presents itself, gather information on the man to bring him down!” Sandy pointed to the folder on the floor next to his bunk. “We’ll we achieved the second part of the mission, but there is no way in hell, I’m leaving the women here to face that monster! You hear me, Captain?” Duncan folded his arms across his chest. “Stand down, Lieutenant.” Sandy gave him an evil glare but clamped his mouth shut. “The first part of the mission is moot, because Sir James doesn’t have any daughters.” Duncan declared. Sandy opened his mouth again and Duncan leaned in. “Shut. It.” Again, Sandy complied, but his mutinous expression told Duncan that Sandy’s silence would last only so long. “Given that he doesn’t have any children, any rescue would be a kidnapping because our orders specifically state ‘the daughters of Sir James Wellesley Pocklington the third’. I am unprepared to take responsibility should the two women who live in this Fort take issue with our forcible removal of them from their home. Do I make myself clear on this?” Sandy looked stunned as he began to think. His gaze went from Duncan’s to Winter’s and back again. Then he turned to Winter. “You… knew you weren’t his kid?”

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Winter nodded and it grieved Duncan that she didn’t explain either, that they’d only just found out. She was letting Sandy down easy, by making him think he’d been set up when the reverse was true. Duncan didn’t appreciate it and stared at Winter with an angry expression. “They didn’t know until this morning, Sandy. Winter is trying to push you away.” “Winter?” Sandy asked. She lifted a shoulder, stared at the stone wall. “Lieutenant Beech. Your attention, please?” Duncan ordered and Sandy slowly turned around a devastated and confused expression on his face. “Listen up, okay?” He lightly tapped Sandy’s cheek and his friend lifted his eyes, refocused himself; shook off the man and donned the soldier. “Sir.” He braced himself. “If the residents require protection, or feel threatened in this environment, it is our job to protect them and or escort them out of the danger zone. Is that understood?” A bitter smile twitched Sandy’s mouth. Winter said nothing, watched the exchange with interest. “Sir, yes, sir!” “Good.” Duncan nodded and gave Sandy a salute. “Carry on, Lieutenant.” Sandy returned the salute. Duncan turned to Winter. “Where can I find your sister?” She swung her legs off the bed and stood. She kept the blanket wrapped around her slim body and walked towards him with a ‘seductive’ strut. “Don’t tell me you lost her.” She said. Duncan raised an eyebrow and glanced at Sandy. His friend wore an expression of… bemused curiosity. “Temporarily misplaced.” He acknowledged with a dip of his head. “Then you’d better find her.” She leaned in. “Before I have to kick your ass.”

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“Kick my…” Winter turned her back on him and went to pick up her clothes. “I told you not to hurt her, Trio, and the only reason she would leave you, is you doing or saying something that’s upset her. Again.” She dropped the blanket and he had a good look at the long, slim line of her back and legs. Sandy nudged him and he looked away. Duncan cleared his throat. “It wasn’t like that.” She glanced over her shoulder at him with a smile on playing around her lush mouth. “Yes, Trio, it probably was. Did she say something cute and you blew her off.” Winter tugged down her t-shirt and stepped into her underwear, then jeans. “What was it, I wonder?” She asked playfully and sat on the bed to pull on socks and boots. “Did she say she…?” “Don’t.” Duncan warned and she stood, studied him with a cool, green gaze. “You men are such assholes.” She murmured and walked up to Sandy, laid a steamy kiss on his mouth, drew his bottom lip out with her teeth. Sandy’s hands went to her hips, but she lifted her head and stepped out of his reach. “Job to do, remember?” Duncan heard the bitterness in Winter’s voice. Winter turned to him and brushed a light kiss across Duncan’s mouth. “No wonder she loves you.” She whispered for his ears alone, and stepped back. “Time for work, boys. And don’t worry, I’ll find Summer.” She walked out of the cell, leaving the men to stare after her. Duncan shook his head. She surely was a piece of work, but then he looked at Sandy who was gazing after her as if mesmerised. Duncan snapped his fingers in front of Sandy’s glazed eyes. “Duty first, okay?” “Yeah.” Sandy sighed. “Duty first.”

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Chapter Twenty Summer’s fingers brushed the petals of the blood red, hothouse rose as she walked slowly around the conservatory. If nothing else, in here, James had done unselfish and beautiful work. The area was lush and green, with tropical plants on one side of the room and his specialty flowers on the other. James had built a garden to be proud of and enjoyed; which he did, usually by himself. He lavished care, love and attention on the plants. Summer thought she should hate this place, where he indulged himself. This garden benefited when he should have given the same attention to her and Winter. Did he come here, alone, to hatch his plans? Did he come here to simply be, like she did? Did he just surround himself with his achievements and not dwell on the concerns of the day? No. Summer thought bitterly. She stooped to draw in the scent of another rose, this one with traditional pale pink and soft petals. James would come in here, smug, filled with triumph over his latest conquest, glowing with good humour. And then he would settle down to tend his plants, oblivious of his deceitful, manipulative and emotionallystunted personality. She even imagined he talked to his plants, sounded out his plans before he acted on them. But were his actions punishable by death? Summer wandered around, brushed the fronds of a lush fern. Beauty surrounded her, splendour created by James; surely that meant he had some redeeming features? He didn’t share his acquisitions, his talents, or his time unless it was profitable. But so what? Others did the same. Winter needed justice for years of emotional abuse and neglect; needed vengeance to soothe her wounded soul. But what then? Summer clicked her tongue. Death was so final. She knew no court would convict her, proving the crime… well, who’d believe any witnesses, where would they find evidence?

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Her heart quaked at the thought of deliberately causing another’s death, even for one such as James. Surely, there was another way? Surely, they could come up with an alternative solution that didn’t wash their hands in blood? Summer could find no solace in the gardens; they did not ease her racing thoughts, how to find freedom, what followed, and they certainly didn’t calm the turmoil within her over Duncan’s rejection. Summer went to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the courtyard, high walls and beyond to the forested mountain. She turned her gaze inward and actively searched out Duncan. He was with Sandy, and the men, talking in hurried voices as if they were about to mount an all or nothing mission. That made her smile; Duncan was in his element, directing his men. But what were they going to do? Where were they going? Ah… Sandy handed him a map, held carefully between two fingers and Summer snorted. Winter had probably made it for them, and, knowing her, right in front of their eyes. Trio pointed to various positions on the map, and then pointed to the man in charge of that area. When he was done, he carefully folded the map as if it might explode and tucked it into his pocket. Then he nodded and Sandy and his men headed off in different directions. Summer saw Duncan pause, frown then look around. He rolled his broad shoulders and neck then focused on his own team of men. Again he issued orders. A flash of red light stabbed into Summer’s eyes and she lost the connection. She blinked away the circular after image, rubbed the sudden ache and concentrated on the origin of the flash. She searched beyond the walls of the Fort and zeroed in on a black-clad man holding a laser-sighted rifle. Summer felt no fear, she was behind a one-way mirrored window, and yet she saw the man slowly sweep the battlements, searching for a target.

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“Winter.” She said in her mind and saw her sister pause in coming up the stairs from the dungeon level. “There are armed men in the forests.” “Better let the boys know. I’ll be with you soon.” Winter’s tone was regretful, with a hint of sorrow. “Duncan.” Summer called to him and he stopped, looked around for her. “Summer?” He spoke out loud and the two men with him glanced at him, then around the hallway they were in. “You don’t need to vocalise, Duncan. I can hear your thoughts when you think them as if you’re having a conversation.” Summer explained. Duncan held up his hand and his men stopped. “Hold.” He ordered and the men took up defensive positions. Summer saw it was Java and Casper. He walked a little distance from them; far enough to avoid anyone overhearing should he slip up, but close enough to return should trouble turn up. Well, trouble had. “There are black uniformed men in the forests. One is holding a rifle with a laser sight.” She said. “Special Operations.” Duncan murmured. “I suspect so. You need to follow the map to the front gate. You’ll need to cross the courtyard to get to it.” She said. “What about you?” He projected and waved his men forward. They were slowly making their way to the foyer level. Good, they’d soon be out. “What about me?” She hedged and turned as she heard the door open. Winter walked in, gave her a warm smile and sat on the bench. “You need to be out of here too.” “I’ll be along.”

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“Summer, what are you up to? You don’t have to kill James, and you need to be away from here before he finds out what you’re planning.” Summer understood his reasoning; she just didn’t agree. “We do have to kill him, Duncan and I can’t do that at a distance. He won’t find out what we’re doing because he can’t read minds. Now go, before those idiots…” She picked up different thoughts from outside the Fort. “You’d better hurry, they’re planning to use some serious force to bust open the gate.” “Shit!” “Goodbye, Duncan.” She murmured to him. “No! Wait!” He shouted and his men spun back towards him. Summer cut him off. She’d done what she could for them, so had Winter, it was up to them now. She and her sister had their own plans and she joined her on the bench. Winter took her hand and squeezed. “We’ll have to hide before they get here.” “Do you have a place?” Winter laughed. “You mean you never searched for me when he wanted me found?” They needed no words for who ‘he’ was. It was as if Winter had decided not to mention his name ever again. Summer sat next to her. “No, Winter, you know my rule, and that included my own family. Where you were, was your own business, not mine, not his.” “He would have been pissed at your refusal.” Summer nodded. “Yes, but it wasn’t as if he could make me, and he knew it.” Winter reached over and hugged her. “We’ve been protecting each other for all our lives in our own way, haven’t we.” “Yes, but I’m more subtle about it.” Summer grinned. “Hah!” Winter barked. “Yeah, you’re right about that - rebellious pair that we are.” She stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles, her arm still around Summer. Her expression turned sombre. “We’re not going to get out of here, are we, Mer.”

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Summer looked at her, and tried to quell her anxiety. “Hey, why the sudden doom and gloom? You have a plan, remember? And the sister I know would have a kick-ass exit strategy.” Winter’s mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. “You’ve been listening to soldier boy.” “As if you haven’t been doing the same.” Summer scoffed. Her sister shrugged. “He is a chatty kind of a fellow. But anyway, the plan is to avoid the assault on the Fort, hide out until they leave; then when that dickhead returns, we’ll do the deed and leave.” “And if he doesn’t return? With all the soldiers about to invade, he’d be crazy to come back now.” “Ah, but he’s left his most valuable asset behind.” Winter stared at her, her green gaze dark. “He can’t function without that asset; and he knows it. No, Summer, he’ll be coming back for you.” Winter slowly stood, stretched her arms above her head. “Where is everybody?” She asked. Summer tilted her head, focused on the surrounds of the Fort. “The soldiers are in position in the forest. I don’t know what they’re waiting for….” “Darkness.” Winter cut in. “They’re waiting for darkness. So they can use their toys.” “Night vision.” “Yeah and I have no doubt they have other goodies up their sleeves. Why don’t you take a peek – in the interests of self-preservation, of course.” “Of course.” Summer agreed with a wry smile. “Great! I’ll go make some coffee.” Winter agreed. Summer focused on beyond the walls, pinpointed each soldier and each commander. She felt their anticipation, but also how relaxed they were. The soldiers - and agents? were in control, but anxious about the missing men.

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She continued to look around, checked where the guards were and snorted. Two were stuffing their faces in the kitchen. Louis watched them with disdain. Another two were asleep in two separate locations. She gave each of them a neural zap and they jerked out of sleep as if jabbed with a cattle prod. They glanced around guiltily and rose, resumed their watch. It was too late now. The soldiers outside were already in position and well hidden. Her eyes popped open when she saw two naked bodies writhing against each other in obvious ecstasy. She recognised the young men as guards from the daytime watch. What were they thinking? Her father would blow a cork if he discovered them; he carefully selected each as the pinnacle of masculinity. Gay men were anathema to him and she smiled at the irony. She and Winter weren’t the only ones rebelling. Summer let her eyes drift shut again. Another six men lay snoring in their bunks; they were the night shift and… the scent of coffee wafted under her nose interrupted her mental prowling. “Coffee time.” Winter said and Summer accepted the mug of rich brew. “So, give me an update.” Winter said and sat next to her, resumed her long-legged relaxed slouch. “Most of the guards are where they’re supposed to be. Caught two napping and gave them a wake up call.” She gave Winter a wicked grin. “Two more were abed. With each other.” Winter gave her a wistful smile and toasted the absent men. “Good for them.” “The men in the forest are Spec Ops, some agents I don’t recognise and others in civilian clothes. They’re expecting to find the missing teams dead, or worse, though I’m not getting a clear picture on what the ‘worst’ would be. They’re anxious to get going, but you were right. They’re waiting for darkness.” Winter nodded. “Yeah, it’s what they do best.” “There’s more than I would have thought necessary. All surrounding the Fort.” “They must want us bad.” Winter mused.

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“And him. They want him, too. Something about…” She closed her eyes, searched for the woman in charge of a different group. “um, irregularities in one of his arms dealings. Minor, she thinks, but an opportunity. She thinks it won’t stand up in court, but… ah… it gives her and her team… discovery?” She opened her eyes. “She thinks that this minor thing will lead to more serious charges, if only they can get a hold of James’ business papers.” Winter sighed. “It seems strange that they’re all willing to co-operate on this.” Summer snorted. “They’re not. The bosses are still busy arguing about jurisdiction and who gets the first shot.” She felt Winter shiver. “Don’t say that. It gives me images I’d rather not have.” “This isn’t Waco, Winter. And they do have consensus on their prime objectives.” “Which are?” “Free the men, capture him, and detain us.” Summer said. “They must have some compelling evidence against us.” Winter mused and drained her coffee. “Well, let’s see.” She closed her eyes again and focused on the group huddled around a table in the local pub. They had a blueprint of the house, but not the dungeons. One of the men was busily thinking how satisfying it was going to be to slap the warrant in James’ face. Another was thinking that Duncan and his men had better be unharmed in any way or there’d be hell to pay. Then there was the man who was worried about the legalities of the job, but didn’t really care as long as it produced results. And General Beckett. He gave the appearance of concentrating on the discussion, but his thoughts were elsewhere. One simply, lousy mission and they screwed it up. Beckett thought grimly. Sneak in, kill the abominations and sneak out. How fucking hard could it be? But no. The assholes got caught. Thank Christ French and Hartigan are still in place. Maybe this will come out fine after all, as long as they obeyed his orders. Summer shuddered but kept her attention on the General.

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And if that didn’t work, I can always drag them into my custody on the grounds of national security, find somewhere quiet, out of the way and finally put an end to that Mengele experiment. I should have killed them all when I had the chance in Vietnam. The group reclaimed Beckett’s focus and Summer opened her eyes. “He’s here.” Summer said quietly. “Who?” “General Beckett.” “Oh, right. He’s in charge of the lads, isn’t he? He’s the one we need to get the information to.” Winter asked. “Yes and no. Yes, he’s in charge, but I wouldn’t go near him with a ten-foot pole. For the others, we’re in their minds, but they’re concentrating on other things. Beckett is thinking of us as genetic mistakes and it is in… the country’s… best interest if we’re… exterminated.” “Oh, charming.” She turned to her sister, horror dawning inside. “Beckett’s thinking of Mengele and his experiments.” “The Nazi Mengele?” Winter gaped at her. Summer nodded. “And that he, Beckett, should have, quote, killed them all when I had the chance in Vietnam, unquote.” Winter looked at her with wide eyes. “Joseph Mengele experimented on Jews and others, tortured them, tested them for human endurance.” She swallowed and horrified understanding gleamed in her eyes. “Oh, my God! We’re the result of…” She got up and walked away into the lush garden. Summer watched her go, then come storming back, flicking foliage out of her way. “We’re not the only ones.” Winter said grimly. “No, I guess we’re not.” She replied. “What are we going to do about this?” Winter threw up her hands. “We know who our mother is, but what about our real father? Both must be like us.”

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“Genetics would dictate it so.” Summer said calmly, though she felt close to panic. Winter glared at her. “Don’t you care?” Summer lifted a shoulder. “Yes… no… yes.” “Which is it?” She huffed out a breath and stood. “I think we should get out of here first, and then worry about the rest. We need to find someone other than Beckett who will tell us the truth.” “Oh, that’s just great!” Winter sneered. “We’re the result of super-secret experimentation - probably military or CIA or some other organisation – and you want to chat them up? Don’t you remember what happened in Cambodia?” “Cambodia?” Summer shook her head. “No, what happened?” Winter gaped at her. “The men in white coats? The needles? The testing? The stinking cages and cells? Our escape through the jungle?” Summer frowned. She had flashes, but no true memory. She put it down to imagination. Surely, Winter wasn’t suggesting…? “You… really don’t remember, do you.” Winter said, astonished. “No. Well, I get glimpses, but nothing concrete. I thought it was a dream. How is it you remember?” Summer picked up on the memories Winter projected. Visions of heat, humidity, stinging insects and jungle rot. Images of white coats, smiling men and syringes filled with blood. She blinked them away and stared at her sister as nausea churned in her stomach. Glowing green eyes bored into hers. “Because James made sure I’d never forget! He threatened to send me back. He asked me what it was like, in the jungle, in the compound, when we arrived here. Just, sat me down and asked a lot of questions. And I told him. I described everything to him and he used it against me. For years, he had me convinced that we’d been stolen as babies while he was in Cambodia on business, told me stories of what it was like before the trip; told me, repeatedly, that he sent our mother to find us and bring us to him. What a load of bollocks!”

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Tears gleamed in those forest eyes and Summer felt her lip tremble. “Bloody hell, Winter.” She said softly. “He told me not to remember, to forget the nightmare, because I had a new life, one filled with light and love and comfort and safety.” She lifted and hand to wipe the moisture from her cheek, drew in a ragged breath. “And so I did.” She lowered her head, grief-stricken at Winter’s pain. “And so I did.”

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Chapter Twenty-One Duncan tried to appear normal, but after his outburst, Java kept glancing at him and Casper looked smug. No doubt both men knew what was up. He understood that Casper was biding his time, knew that if French stayed with Duncan, he’d eventually be lead to Summer. Java knew when to keep his peace and concentrate, which is what Duncan should be doing, no trying to reconnect with Summer. Hell, he didn’t even know how, just kept calling to her with his mind. Not surprisingly, she didn’t answer. Duncan crouched at an intersection of two hallways and pulled out the map. He pointed to their location and then at Java. “Go.” Java ducked around him and Casper took the big man’s place behind him. It was eerie. Up until this mission, Duncan counted on Jeremy to back him up. Now, he knew Casper had an alternative mission and it gave Duncan the creeps to have Casper breathing down his neck. He shook it off. He wouldn’t be able to do anything until Casper showed his true intent. He pointed to another section of the map. “Go.” He whispered and Casper gave him the thumbs up. They had to disable the guards, find their weapons, find the women and get the hell out before the apocalypse rained down on their heads and nothing could save them. The prickling sensation at the back of his neck grew more intense and he understood he was running out of time. His anxiety increased with the need to get going, but he made himself wait. Java returned on light feet and shook his head. He crouched down next to Duncan and waited for Casper’s return. The subtle clink of metal against metal reached both men’s ears and Java rolled his eyes as Casper, grinning like a boy in a toy store came back to them holding a bag. With a flourish, he opened it. Inside were their tranquiliser guns and ammunition, webbing and… his wrist-watch!

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Duncan plucked the heavy, multi-functional watch out of the bag, wrapped it around his wrist and felt better for it. Both Java and he removed a weapon each and tucked it into their waistbands. Duncan tapped Casper on the shoulder. “You’re Santa Claus.” He said and Casper’s face dropped into disappointment. Carrying the weapons meant he wouldn’t be able to join any fight – not that there was going to be one – and keep the troops supplied with ammo. “No killing unless it’s un…” Summer’s voice came loud and clear in his head. “What?” He replied, aware that Java and Casper stared at him. He waved them off. “Why are you still here?” Damn she sounded cold, distant. “We’re not leaving without you.” “Still determined to do you duty, I see.” “I’m trying to make sure you and Winter are safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” “Liar.” She said her tone harsh. “Your General Beckett is here.” Duncan closed his eyes. “Thank God. He might be an officious bastard, but he good in a tight spot. He’ll keep everyone calm so…” “Is that a fact?” Summer cut in and his eyes opened at her chilled tone. “What’s wrong, Summer?” “Ask Casper who gave him his orders. Ask Casper why he accepted them. And then Captain Duquesne, ask yourself what the true purpose of your mission is!” “But…” He didn’t question whether she was right; still, “General Beckett?” “Mengele, Vietnam, now. What did General Beckett do during the war, Captain Duquesne?” “I… don’t know. Exactly. He was an Army Ranger, I know that much.” He confessed but vowed to find out more; if they made it out alive, of course.

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“They’re out there, surrounding the Fort. With Beckett directing the action.” She sounded calmer, distracted as if she were focusing on something else. “There isn’t going to be any, not if I can help it.” He murmured. “If you have a way of stopping them, I’m all ears.” “They’ll wait until they’re sure everyone’s in bed. Thus, the coup will be quiet and uneventful. Maybe we should let them come in, then sneak out the back way. If there is a back way?” He asked, but she didn’t reply to his prompting. “Okay, no back way. Where are you?” “Safe.” She said. “Winter agrees with the you.” She paused. “Why aren’t you making your way to the gate? We could all avoid confrontation if you’d just go.” “I know, but I’m not leaving without you.” “You don’t have a choice, Duncan.” She said and he grinned. The hint of concern in her voice told him she wasn’t totally lost to him. It was time to put himself out there for her. “Of course I do. What did Java tell you about choices and responsibility?” He asked with mock severity. Summer sighed through his mind. “That everyone was responsible for their own choices.” “And this is mine.” Aware that he was talking softly under his breath, he closed his mouth. “Just for the record, I love you back. I repeat, I love you, too, and I’m not leaving without you.” He felt the connection suddenly break and cursed. He waved Java and Casper over to him. “Let’s go, we need to catch up with Captain Beech.” He grumbled and led them out. *** “Hey, Mer,” Winter said, “what’s up, you’ve gone all red in the face.” Summer rolled her eyes and Winter grinned. “Don’t tell me he was using inappropriate language.”

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“Not really.” She said primly and chewed her lip. Was this stunned confusion what Duncan had felt when she mentioned ‘love’ to him? If so, no wonder he looked like a stunned fish. “Salacious?” Her sister nudged her, a sly smile curving her lips. “Sweet.” Summer replied. “Sweet? What does that mean, ‘sweet’? What kind of a man uses sweet words?” Winter demanded. “A romantic one.” Summer said, then wished she hadn’t. “Oh, ho! So he is romancing you.” “Shut up, Winter!” Summer grumbled, but smiled anyway. “I need to contact Lieutenant Beech, so shush with this nonsense.” Summer closed her eyes and sought the Lieutenant out. “I want to hear it, Mer. Every. Word.” Winter shifted closer, as if she could listen in on the conversation. She gently initiated contact. “Sandy.” Summer twitched and then repeated Sandy’s coarse reply, much to Winter’s amusement. “Yeah, I bet that did startle him.” Winter grinned. “Lieutenant, you don’t need to speak, I can hear your thoughts quiet clearly.” Summer bit her lip to stop from laughing. “He’s still cursing, but he’s waved the men off.” “Listen to me, Lieutenant, you have an assassin on your team. Ah, yes, Duncan did tell the truth.” Summer opened her eyes, then rolled them for Winter’s benefit. Winter listened, her expression sober. Summer kept her eyes open, stared at a blooming magnolia without seeing it. “Hartigan.” Lieutenant Beech’s mind went blank with shock, then filled with a confusion of thoughts; justifications of why it couldn’t be his second-in-command. “I’m sure, Lieutenant. General Beckett…” She winced at the harsh words of denial.

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Summer stiffened. “I have no reason to lie about someone who wants to see my sister dead! Winter is too important to me for you to fail… I don’t doubt he sees it as his duty and is under orders from a superior officer.” She felt her lips quirk and turned her head. “You’re important to… yes, Lieutenant, I’ll tell her.” Heat surged into her cheeks and her eyes widened at the accompanying images. “Ah, Sandy? I don’t need the visuals on that one, thanks.” She felt his embarrassment and chagrin. “Oh, and before I go, Captain Duquesne is on his way to meet you. After that, please leave the Fort - you know the way out.” Summer cut the connection and turned back to Winter. “He says to you tell that…” She took Winter’s hands in hers. “He loves you and he’ll see you soon, come hell or high water.” Winter’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh. Shit!” She got up and walked away, brushing through fronds of the lush rainforest plants. Then she came striding back. “What visuals!” Summer bit her lip. “These ones.” And she projected what Sandy had been thinking. “Stop!” Winter lifted her hands to her head, and then covered her eyes. “Jesus, just what I don’t want to share with you!” Summer couldn’t stop the smirk. “I had no idea you were so… athletic, Winter.” She laughed at her sister’s expression. “There are some things that shouldn’t be shared, even between sisters!” Winter protested, then smiled herself and cocked an eyebrow. “You can jolly-well block any other images he might project at you, too.” “I’m not a voyeur, Winter. I’ll teach him to guard his thoughts.” Summer saw the changing light on Winter’s face and turned. The sun hung low in the sky, just above the mountain ridge. “Time’s getting close.” She murmured. Winter sat next to her and watched the spectacular display. “I miss him already.” She sighed. “Me, too.” Summer thought of Duncan.

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“It’s for the best, though.” Winter sounded as if she was trying to convince herself. “We have to be free to find them.” “Yeah.” Summer said through a constricted throat. “We’ve already said our goodbyes. Next time, it’ll be hello.” “That’s a nice thought, if we can pull it off.” “It’s the only way I can let him go. If I thought I’d never see him again…” Her throat closed up and she stared down at her hands. She shook off the impending emotional storm welling inside her. “Well, we’re not doing any good sitting around here.” Summer said with false brightness. “Where’s our bolt hole?” Her sister’s expression was startled, then she gave a cocky grin. “Okay, then.” She stood and held out her hands to Summer. Summer curled her fingers around her sister’s and Winter hauled her upright. They both turned to watch the dying of the sun. When it was gone, Winter threw an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go.” They walked through the garden, Summer skimmed her fingers over the fronds and petals and wondered if she’d ever see this beautiful garden again; Winter simply swept the plants aside as if they were annoying. Winter reached the double glass doors first. She carefully opened one and checked in either direction, then waved Summer through. “Where are we going?” Summer asked quietly. “Dungeon.” Winter whispered over her shoulder. “Dungeon?” “Yep.” Winter led her down the hallway. The place seemed deserted. Where was the staff, or the guards that constantly patrolled inside as well as outside? Summer reached out to locate the guards.

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Winter spoke and she frowned. “There are a number of secret rooms down there, that I don’t think even James knows about. I’ve stocked them and managed to seal them so no one can tell where they are.” “The guards.” Summer murmured. Winter walked down the corridor. “What about them?” “They’ve been… incapacitated.” Summer grabbed Winter’s shoulder. “Good, it will make our job that much easier.” “You don’t understand…” Her sister shook her off. “No, but it’s okay. If they’re not able to stop us, that’s a good thing, right?” Winter moved fast down the stairs, past the level where the bedrooms were, down towards the ground level. The dungeon was two levels below that and in between, the kitchen, and servant quarters; at least in this wing. There was plenty to this Fort, and she doubted that either she or Winter had explored it all. Well, she knew she hadn’t. Winter hugged the wall around the corner from the broad, Italian-marbled foyer. She glanced back at Summer and indicated with her head that Summer should do some seeking. Summer nodded and focused. There was… no, there were men ahead and she clutched at Winter’s hand. Someone else, too, with chaotic, swirling thoughts. She couldn’t pinpoint them – him? Somewhere in front of them, but where, who? Chambers? She sought him out. No, the secretary had an ordered, meticulous mind and worked upstairs in… James’ office? She searched further, counting the guards, seeking other minds and found… Akiko… in the gym, wiping her face after a workout. What was she doing here? James never went any where without his personal bodyguard, so… Winter pressed sharp fingernails into her hand. “Pay attention.” Her sister whispered harshly. “What’s ahead?” “Men.” Summer replied. “But there’s…” “Come on, it’s got to be Sandy and the boys. Tell ‘em not to shoot.”

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“Winter!” “Tell. Them. I don’t want to walk into an ambush!” “Fine!” Summer focused on both Trio and Sandy. “Why are you still here?” She asked as quietly as possible, felt both men jerk in surprise. They began thinking at her together and she couldn’t get a bead on what either men were trying to say. “One at a time. Trio?” “Would you believe me if I said we were on our way out?” Duncan replied. “No.” She said tersely. “Humph. Didn’t think so. Ah… we were waiting for you.” He sounded sheepish. “Again, why?” “We can’t leave without you, Summer, not with what’s out there about to charge in and we’re not leaving you to James.” He sounded so fierce that she had to smile. “How many times do I have to tell you we can handle him?” “He knows your strengths and weaknesses, darlin’, he’s had years to learn them. You need back up.” Duncan said patiently. “And what? You’re volunteering? I have no idea when he’s going to return, Duncan! He may wait until the dust settles, or never return.” “Then why don’t you bloody well look!” He was so vehement that she almost took a step back. Instead, she sat down on the cold stone and attempted to explain. “He’s too far away!” She said vehemently. “Besides, I don’t… I don’t want to see what he has planned, Duncan. I understand now that he’s an evil, manipulative bastard, but I don’t want…” Duncan soothing voice washed over her mind. “I understand. I wouldn’t want to venture into that cesspit, either. I’m sorry.” “Sometimes, Duncan, the things I’ve seen in other men’s heads, the ones he wants me to pluck information from… God, I’d rather swallow live worms than go back.”

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“It’s okay, honey. Really. He’ll return one day, and when he does, we’ll be ready for him. How does that sound?” “Good, Duncan, it sounds good… but we are at a cross road here. Winter and I will not go willingly into the hands of the government. You know that.” Winter tapped her foot and Summer lifted her gaze. Her sister was making a wind-itup motion with her hand. “We’ll face that when the time comes, honey. I promise. Trust me?” He asked hesitantly. Inside, she felt the final barrier break away from around her heart. It gave her a sense of freedom she’d never felt before, never knew had been taken from her. “Always.” She thought gently and he relaxed. She felt his comforting warmth embrace her. “Good girl.” “We’re coming out.” Summer declared. “From where?” At Summer’s nod, Winter eased around the last corner, took the last step. Summer stood and followed, her eyes scanned the foyer and found Duncan’s warm gaze. Summer pinned each man with a mental ‘tag’ until he emerged from his hiding place. Casper and Hartigan glowered at her as if she’d cheated. The men separated into their teams. Summer turned to Winter, but she was firmly in the grip of Sandy’s arms. If there was a more intimate and welcoming hug, she’d never seen it. He squeezed her once then released her, kept one hand around her waist. “Now that we’re all here, we need a sitrep.” Duncan said with a remoteness that surprised her. He put his hands on his hips. “Summer?” “Yes?” “It’s your briefing.” He bit out impatiently and she suppressed a shiver at his distant tone. He was in command now with no time for hugs or kind words. “Er… what?” She asked feeling a little awkward.

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Java deep, rumbling laugh came from behind. “He means you’re the one who can tell us what’s happening outside.” “Oh.” She murmured with understanding and cleared her throat. She faced the double oak front doors, especially imported from Britain. Beside the doors to the left and the right were small cloakrooms. Summer concentrated on the men and women beyond the walls of the Fort. “They’re a little antsy.” She reported. “Where, exactly, are they?” Duncan prompted and she heard the rustle of a paper. “Um… Blimey, there are a lot of them. And they’ve got… tazers? Oh. They’re for Winter and I, to interrupt the neural flow so we can’t harm them.” She shifted a little to the left, then the right, as if honing in on each man. She even turned in a circle, without seeing the men behind her. “There’s a squad behind us, to cut off any attempt to escape out that way.” She pointed north. “Major… Major Ma… Madden, Jeff Madden is unhappy about that. He wants to be involved.” She heard more than one chuckle. “Backer never could resist a good fight.” She ignored the comment and returned her attention to what lay beyond the walls. “There’s a group ready to come through the gates. Captain Lisle commanding.” “Bad juju, that one.” Someone muttered. “Another will come over the west wall, another over the right. Captain Knot and Lieutenant Craft.” “Harumph, how’d she get command?” Noddy snorted. “Because she’s a damn fine officer, Nods, and you know it.” Java replied. Summer cleared her throat. “Behind them are the reinforcements. Another Spec Ops squad… Cardinal? No, Cardinale, Captain Cardinale. He seems to be content to stay back, figures someone will fuck up.” Her eyes refocused. “Sorry,” she said, “force of habit.” More chuckles. She sensed genuine amusement was missing from two of the men. “Then there are the FBI Special Agent-in-Charge and his agents and… the NIS?” “What’re they doing here?” Java muttered. “Who’s running the show?”

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“General Beckett.” Summer bit out, but the men murmured with approval. “The boss is here to make sure Summer and I don’t make it out alive.” Winter said from where she stood next to Sandy. “What? This is supposed to be a rescue mission.” Cranbrook, Sandy’s sergeant said angrily. “To rescue their own, Sergeant, not us.” Winter said bitterly. “I meant our mission.” Cranbrook muttered. “So that’s why you wanted us all together.” Cranbrook said to Duncan. “You want us to protect them.” Duncan nodded. “Any way you can.” He turned to Summer. “I need you to contact certain members of the squads out there.” He said in a softer tone. Summer frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You have had time to get used to what I can do. I’d be coming at them cold. That’s going to scare the tripe out of them.” “I’m aware of that, but I can’t see any other way. You’ll have to reassure them that you…” “Duncan, I’ll be speaking inside their heads and to anyone that would be a threat.” Summer shook her head. “I’m counting on Colonel Cosgrove to brief them on what to expect.” “No.” She said. “Those are real guns out there, with real bullets. They’re more likely to shoot first and ask questions later.” Duncan’s eyes widened and she suddenly saw through his eyes as James stepped like a wraith out of one the right cloakroom and lift a gun. Stunned by the abrupt change in perspective, she failed to stop James’ finger from squeezing the trigger. Two gunshots boomed, the noise loud and directionless. Summer fell to her knees, the heel of one hand raised to her forehead and the other to her chest as pain exploded through her.

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Chapter Twenty-Two Summer fought to breathe through the fire, fought to clear her thoughts, fought to stop the bl... The stars swirling in her vision faded and she stared at the floor. No blood. She drew her hand away from her face. No blood. Peeled her hand away from her chest. No. Blood. She jerked her head up. “Winter!” She gasped. Her sister’s thoughts… she couldn’t find any. Nothing. Emptiness greeted her probing. Her sister lay in Sandy’s arms, blood streaming from her head and chest. Sandy, his thoughts panic-stricken with blood spray on his face, tried to stop the bleeding, as did Cranbrook who calmly recalled his medic’s knowledge. “Oh, God, no!” Summer brought her hands to her mouth, rocked back and forth. “No, no, please no…” “Everyone just stay where you are.” James said calmly behind her, but she couldn’t drag her eyes away from her dying sister. One of the soldiers moved to take aim at James. “Stand down!” Duncan barked. “Better.” James murmured. “Your tranquiliser darts won’t penetrate my Kevlar clothes, do you understand?” Summer leaned back on her heels, concentrated on Winter and the faint, pulsing fuzziness she detected in her sister’s mind, then it slipped away. Tears filled her eyes and overflowed as she searched deeper, found nothing and realised what it meant. Winter was… dead. She tried, concentrated, focused as hard as she could, but got no response, no image, no thought, nothing. Nothing to latch on to; emptiness within Winter and herself where her sister lived. That nebulous strand of connection, of attachment, was gone, leaving a gaping hole within her, leaving her… alone.

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“Summer, come here.” James cold voice knifed through her thoughts. She ignored him, her profound grief too overwhelming. “Don’t make me shoot your lover, Summer, or anyone else here.” She heard his revolver cock. That got her attention and she slowly turned her head. James aimed at Duncan, his hand rock steady. Guns were heavy. She could wait him out. But how many would he kill before he lowered the weapon. Oh, she knew him - he had another gun close by, so he wouldn’t have to reload. Feeling like an old woman, she got to her feet. She couldn’t afford to be distracted in this and she kept her eyes on this man she’d learned to hate in such a short time. James gave her a smile and looked at Duncan. “My congratulations, Captain Duquesne, it’s been interesting watching you seduce this daughter of mine.” Duncan stepped forward, his face twisted with rage. “You twisted fu…” “No, Duncan.” Summer said to his mind. “Don’t let him provoke you. He’s mine.” Only she could hear Duncan’s hot, violent protest, but he said nothing. “Nothing to say?” James grinned and turned to Summer. “Come now, Summer, we must leave. Those soldiers outside won’t wait for too much longer.” “How did you get here? You weren’t supposed to be here.” Summer’s voice sounded rusty, as if she’d spent a week screaming. His smile widened. “I came back when I said I would. I simply instructed Chambers to inform you of the delay. I must say, it’s been a real eye-opener watching you and Winter, listening in on your conversations. You have become everything I ever dreamed you’d be.” “You know I’ll never help you now.” “Nothing has changed.” He waved a hand in dismissal of Winter’s body, held in Justin’s arms. “You’ll help me because you have no choice. You’d never survive on your own without me and I don’t think you’d like being a lab rat again. See? No choice. And haven’t I always looked after you? Didn’t I promise your mother?” Summer didn’t dare look away from him. The image of a tall auburn haired woman flashed across her memory.

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“She’s not dead.” Sandy thought loudly and she fought to keep the thrill of hope off her face. “But she needs help, and needs it fast.” He added. Until that moment, she hadn’t realised she’d telegraphed her thoughts to those around her and she shut the connection down. Behind her, she felt the men sway at the sudden loss of connection. Duncan, Sandy and Java must have known what to expect, for they kept their focus on James. “You’ve killed my sister. I’d say everything’s changed.” She said coldly and kept her face blank as the gun wavered. “We don’t need her; we never have. She’s been trouble all her life; you know that. Picking fights with us, disrespecting us, whoring around with guards; a wasted life, one I’ve put an end to. Come with now or I’ll shoot Captain Duquesne.” “Go ahead.” She said. “I’m sure you will any way, just to prove a point.” She folded her hands in front of her body. “I’m equally sure you’ll be finding someone new for me. After all, you can’t have generational mutants if your remaining monster still holds affection for some… soldier.” “Perhaps.” His eyes glimmered with speculation. “Now, we really must be on our way.” His fist tightened on the revolver’s grip. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” “I’m not going anywhere with you.” She said. “You can’t refuse me, Summer, you never have and you never will. You just don’t have it in you to deny me anything. Not like that harridan of a sister of yours.” She smiled at him, this madman, who stood before her, this murderer she once loved as a daughter loved her father. She forced her lips to curl upwards, forced the heat of her gaze to cool, gave him the smile he’d come to know as acquiescence. Summer sensed movement behind her. “Stay where you are, Sandy. Winter needs you. I do not.” She thought to him and felt him relax, turn his concentration to the woman he loved. “Not this time, asshole.” She said acidly. James’s shock was genuine. “What did you call me?”

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“A lying, murderous, insane asshole. Or should it be arsehole? Since that’s the British vernacular.” “I’ll need to teach you more respect for me.” His voice trembled with rage, cracked his calm control. “You are nothing to me.” She sneered and began to focus on his mind, sensed the chaos of scrambled images and sounds. He smiled knowingly at her. “Don’t bother, Summer, I spent some quality time with… someone who knows all about you and your kind. He taught me how to protect myself from your probes, from any manipulation or control. You can’t do anything to me.” He chuckled. Summer lifted an eyebrow. Manipulation? Control? Oh, she’d do more to him than that! She quickly scanned the surface of his mind. He had some sort of a confusing mental matrix that proved impossible to penetrate. But his teacher wasn’t as good as James thought he was. She didn’t need to focus on his brain, per se… and he should never assumed she wouldn’t hurt him. Summer found the way in at the base of his skull, through his spinal chord. She brought her eyelids down slightly as she weevilled her way inside his brain, under the matrix, and found the area she was looking for. She took a calming breath and glared at him. “The problem with you, Jimmy, is that you pay a lot of money for information and loyalty without ever wondering whether it was worth it. You leave that to others.” He frowned, gripped the pistol harder. “What do you mean?” She offered him a shark-like grin, very much like her sister’s. “I mean this…” and she forced his cerebellum to recognise that blood flow had stopped to his brain. James’ eyes widened as the pain spiked into his head. Then he dropped the gun, clutched at his skull and collapsed onto the floor. Summer released her grip on his mind, allowed the blood to surge through his veins again, and felt an appalled satisfaction at the damage she sensed within his brain.

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Summer walked over to him, kicked the gun away and stared down into his pleading eyes. “For too many years, you kept Winter and I prisoners here. Now you get to be a prisoner in your own body. For as many years as it takes you to die.” She lifted her head as she heard a scrape beyond the doors. Then all hell broke loose. Behind her, she heard a pistol cock and fire. Fire erupted in her back and she slowly fell sideways, as the strength left her legs. The doors blew open and black-clad people flooded into the foyer, but she felt Casper’s satisfaction. Summer slowly blinked, the noise in her head confused, loud and demanding. Too many… people, she thought, can’t… find Duncan... A woman with fierce golden eyes and a black pistol leaned over her. Summer heard her clearly as the woman rolled Summer onto her stomach and cuffed her wrists with strips of plastic. “You’re under arrest for Customs and Immigration violations!” The woman shouted and she felt a giggle at the base of her throat. She coughed, tasted the warm, salty blood before it trickled from her mouth. She’d spent years helping an egomaniacal sociopath build a fortune. She’d captured a squad of elite Special Operations men - even fallen in love with one. She conspired to let the man she loved escape. She’d used her talent to destroy a man. And now she’d been shot in the back - by Casper - and this woman was pissy because she didn’t have a visa? “Fuck you.” She said into the woman’s mind. The agent jerked back, levelled her gun at Summer’s head. “I give up.” She thought exhausted. “I’m so… tired… of this… life.” Physically hurting and emotionally shattered by what she’d done, Summer let her eyes slowly close. The last thing she saw before she welcomed the darkness was Duncan, his eyes desperate, trying to fight off three black-clad men in an effort to reach her.

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Epilogue A stranger leaned over Summer, breathed mint into her face when she could focus again. Middle-aged, with dark hair that sparked with strands of silver, blue-grey eyes. She tensed at the sight of the white coat and stethoscope that hung around his neck. He peered into her eyes with some sort of device. “Go away.” She thought and shut her eyes against the light. “Not just yet, I… what did you say?” The light vanished and she looked at him. “I said, ‘go away’.” A flash of fear came and went in his eyes and then he tightened his lips. “I heard you were special, my dear, but you’ve nothing to fear from me. I’m only seeing to your continued good health.” “And?” Her voice sounded rough and she swallowed against a dry throat. He turned to the side table and poured her a glass of water, then put the pink straw to her lips. She managed two gulps before he took it away again. “Well, I’d say you were extremely lucky to come out of this mess as you have.” He dragged a pair of solid black rimmed glasses from the top pocket of his white coat and perched them on the end of his nose. “The bullet passed right through you. To be expected at that range. We repaired the damage, and wasn’t that a trial.” He rolled his eyes. “But your young man threatened to pull my liver out through my nose if I didn’t save you.” The doctor removed his glasses, pulled out a worn handkerchief and began polishing the lenses with rapid strokes. “The imagery wasn’t attractive, so I did my best and here you are. Sore and sorry for yourself, no doubt, but alive and recovering.” “He’s alive?” Summer asked. “Yes. Although… some of his men, I believe, were wounded. Lieutenant Beech’s men, too.” He gave her a slight smile. “Are they...”

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“They’ll survive to wreak vengeance on those who dared shoot them. Their words, not mine. I’m sure they’ll tell you the story. Rumours are already abounding around the hospital.” He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself to present bad news. From his surface thoughts, he understood the news he had to deliver was bad, though not disastrous. “Your sister is still in a coma, I’m afraid. I cannot say when or if she comes out of it. And I don’t know what kind of brain damage there might be. The bullet to her head didn’t enter her skull, but it did fracture it. Badly. Chest wound is fine, though. The soldiers did a fine job of not letting her bleed to death before the paramedics could get there.” His lips twitched and he paused. “Thank you, doctor, for that.” She replied softly. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, about your father.” “He’s not my father.” Grey-speckled eyebrows rose. “He’s not? I was given to believe… well, that can be sorted out later. I’m afraid he’s had a stroke. A bad one. I guess it was all too much for him, though he seemed fit, these things can happen to anyone.” Summer kept her face blank and lowered her gaze to the blanket. “I see.” “He’s having the best of care, but I’m sorry to say, he’s paralysed.” The doctor patted her hand. “He can see, he can hear, he can swallow food, but he can’t move and he can’t speak. We have the best therapists working with him, but I fear it will do no good. Do you understand?” She cleared her throat, but didn’t look at him. “Yes, doctor. He has the money to afford the best of care, and I’m sure you’ll do everything to make him comfortable.” “Of course, my dear. And now, I need to examine you to make sure you’re healing. Then you’ll need to get some rest.” “Yes, doctor.” ***

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Warmth enveloped her hand. She breathed deeply and smiled at the scent of her man, of Duncan. Slowly, she turned her head and opened her eyes. Duncan sat next to her, his face set, new streaks of grey in his hair and deep lines surrounding his mouth. “Hey.” She said. “You shaved!” “Hey.” He gave her a strained smile, lifted a hand to his smooth cheek. “I did.” “What’s up?” She asked. “You can’t tell?” She eased out a breath. Her chest hurt and she gritted her teeth until the pain eased. “No, Duncan. I said I would never look into your private thoughts. That hasn’t changed.” “Sometimes, it would be easier if you did.” He sighed. Summer felt a surge of dread. “Tell me?” “You heard about your… James?” “Yes.” He nodded, “Good.” He leaned in close. “Did you…? Did you really do that to him?” He asked in a whisper. “Yes.” She whispered back. “That scares me, Summer. I’m glad – it’s mind boggling - but damn, that really scares me. What you’re capable of is… frightening sometimes.” “I’m sorry you feel that way.” She replied quietly. He gripped her hand, rubbed his thumb over the back. “Don’t misunderstand me, woman. I love you; the good, the bad, and the bloody terrifying. I love you! And I ain’t takin’ it back. Wherever you go, I go and I’ll keep after you until you have me.” “Well, that is some speech.”

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He lifted a shoulder. “Just thought I’d be honest with you and let you in on my intentions.” “Which are?” “The usual.” He nodded. “Dating – because you’ve never had a date, and you’ll only go out with me; romance – because you’ve not had that either. Eventually a proposal – mine - then marriage – to me. Kids if they’re in our future. And we’ll deal with their… unique talents when the time comes.” “You charmer, you.” She said with a smile. “How could I resist an offer like that?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Not easily, I’m sure.” She shook her head in bemusement. “Damn, you’d better kiss me before I change my mind.” His lips brushed hers, once, twice, then a third time before he lifted his head. She reached up with one hand and smoothed her hand along his shaven cheek, her eyes wandering over his face. “I cannot believe how much I love you, Duncan.” His face split into a smile. “Is that a yes?” “That’s a ditto.” At his puzzled expression she said into his mind. “We’ll date, because I’ve never been on one, and you’ll only go out with me for fear of retribution. I’ll have any romance you care to offer me, and accept it gladly. I’ll wait for your proposal, and accept it with all the tears and joy I can muster. Marriage will be an adventure for us, and when the children come, we’ll deal with them in our own time.” “You charmer, you.” He whispered against her mouth. “How could I resist that?” “You can’t, because I can punish you in so many ways.” And she gave him some images that had both temperatures rising. “You’d better stop or I’ll embarrass myself.” But he pressed his mouth against hers again and moved seductively against her, his hand coming up to her breast. Summer tried to shift into him and gasped at the spike of pain jabbing her chest and back. It brought tears to her eyes and Duncan retreated. He resumed his seat, his gaze cooled with regret. “Sorry about that.” He said. “We’re going to have to wait.”

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Summer licked her lips, the taste of him lingered, but she set the idea of making love in a hospital bed aside – for the moment. “How’s Winter?” She asked as a way of cooling her ardour. Duncan shook his head. “No change I’m afraid.” “I’ve been trying to reach her, but I’m not getting anything.” She said, sadness threatening to bring on tears of grief again. Duncan sighed. “I wish we could have anticipated him. Sandy’s beside himself. He’s not eating, or sleeping. He’s a basket case.” Summer stared down at her hands. “I should have known he’d try something like this. I should have known since Akiko was in the gym – and he never goes anywhere with her. I searched, but all I found was a mind filled with chaotic thoughts. It never occurred to me… If I’d…” His eyes lit with temper. “No. Summer. Didn’t you once tell me you couldn’t read the future, only the present and the past?” “But…” “No. Do you hear me? Your focus was outside the Fort, not inside. You knew where the enemy was, knew who on my team was going to... and I’ll tell you right now, that French, Hartigan and that bastard Beckett are cooling their heels in Leavenworth.” “That was fast.” Duncan snorted. “Yeah, well, you were right to ask me about why do this mission at all. Beckett was involved with… others of this Project Genesis and saw it as wrong - not just wrong, but an affront to God and nature. But he lost them when he was transferred out.” “He must have been one of the handlers.” She murmured. “He was; but the job was handed on when he came home. He’s worked his entire career trying to hunt all the… er… talents down. From what I understand, he sounded out his own men, but couldn’t find any who’d do the job.” Outrage flared. “Why didn’t they report him?” She demanded.

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“Gently, Summer. They didn’t report him because he never came out and said exactly what he wanted done.” “Until he spoke with French and Hartigan.” “Right. That’s when he set up the mission parameters. If Casper and Ace failed during the insertion, if we were caught – which he knew was a distinct possibility – they’d still be in situ if another opportunity arose.” “How did you find all this out?” Duncan’s face turned an interesting pink and he cleared his throat. “Ah… Colonel Cosgrove wasn’t as trusting of the General as we were. He had one of his spooks investigate and once she found one thread, the rest were easy to follow.” “Bravo.” She said quietly. Summer lifted her tear-sheened gaze to his. “I miss her, Duncan. She’s always a presence in my head. Always, like a comforting buzz. And now… she’s not there and I’m alone.” “You’re not alone, sweetheart, not anymore. You have me.” He gave her a smile. “And I’ll tell you something odd – I feel you, here.” He pressed a finger to his heart. “Like a hum. Can you explain that?” Summer shook her head. “No. But you have you’re very own permanent signature alongside where Winter used to be. It looks like we have a connection.” Duncan stared at her. “A connection, huh?” She nodded, then changed the subject. “How is it that I’m here? I expected to wake up in prison somewhere.” He gave a tired sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Turns out Colonel Cosgrove truly did want to protect you. He wants your help and your co-operation; he never intended to incarcerate you. He had an inside contact. Louis somebody or other, who fed him information on what was going on inside the Fort.” He gave her a brief smile. “Colonel Cosgrove wants you as a consultant.” “A consultant.” How much did she believe that?

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“Yeah. Nothing formal, he’d like you to be available for mission briefings and such. No experiments, no prison, no doctor’s wanting to know how you work, just working for the government in an indirect way that will help us. Personally, I think it’s a subtle way of recruiting you.” He said with a scowl. “Really? And what do you think?” It wasn’t as if she was giving over control, but she was interested in his opinion. “I don’t know. I’d rather you didn’t do anything dangerous, but I’ve seen first hand how you operate and there is nothing, I don’t think, out there that can match you.” He leaned forward and took her hand in his. “It nearly killed me when Casper shot you – he got our tranqs and helped himself to your… James’ gun cabinet at the same time, by the way – which is why he’s sitting in Leavenworth spilling his guts, and I’m here with you. Then there was mayhem and the medics took you and Winter away. I’ve never been so scared for someone in my entire life.” She lifted his hand and brushed her mouth across the back. “We both did the best we could with the information we had.” She said and rubbed his hand along her cheek. “I think it’ll be interesting to consult, but I’ll wait until I talk to the Colonel himself. How’s that?” “Works for me, and now I think you need some rest.” He tugged his hand from her light grip, cupped her jaw, brushed his mouth over hers. “Giving commands already?” She asked, but her eyelids were drooping. “I’ll be here when you awaken. I’m not leaving you ever again.” He murmured as her eyes shut fully. “Foolish man,” she sighed. “Where ever you go, whatever you do, I’m with you. I’ll always find you.” And she dropped into sleep, assured he’d be there for her as much as she was for him.

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