“I hate you,” she whispered.
I stood unmoved and maintained my stance. As I made Sara wait, her words gave me the strength to continue. With each second her proclamation darkened the remaining shreds of my heart. If making her hate me would save her, then I’d do it. Everything she’d said was right; though I hadn’t wanted a wife, I’d taken one. I was the one who had done this to her. I was the one who had held her hand while she lived in that hell. I couldn’t take her back there, not again.
As I slapped my belt against my hand, the sound echoed throughout the room. Gasping, Sara spread her legs and leaned forward. Just as her cheek contacted the cool vanity, she whispered, “I really do.”
Blonde hair fell over her battered cheek as her body shuddered with tears.
In nine long months she’d awakened something inside me that had been dead for over a decade. I’d suspected what she was capable of doing to me the first time I saw her, when Brother Uriel showed her to me. Now it was time to shut it off. This was different from being in The Light. Taking her back wasn’t saving her. She’d been given to me to protect. It wasn’t up to her. It was my decision. Now that she had the real chance to be free and safe, I wouldn’t take that away from her.
Sara’s lip disappeared between her teeth as she finally shut her eyes. The way the muscles in her legs and behind tensed, I knew she was ready for the correction to commence solely for it to end. The wait was nothing more than part of the game, psychological warfare, and Father Gabriel made sure that every male follower knew how to play.
The reason she was in this position, bent over the vanity, was my fault and Father Gabriel’s teachings. She’d been conditioned too well. If she hadn’t been, Stella would have fought more. The FBI would help her—help Stella—deprogram her. This was for the best, no matter whether she was or wasn’t carrying my child. Nothing about going back to The Light was right.
I bit my cheek, not allowing myself to smile at her latest declaration. She’d said she hated me. It was what I wanted. Lifting my belt, I said, “Good, I’m glad to hear that. Now I’ll give you a reason not to forget it.” I twisted the proverbial knife. “Tell me, Sara.” I leaned above her beautiful body. “Tell me what helps you not forget.”
She pressed her lips together defiantly.
I slowly ran the rough underside of the belt over her bottom, watching her muscles flinch, as if the leather were fire. Even so, she maintained her tight hold on the counter’s edge. “I’m waiting,” I whispered.
“Go to hell.”
I stepped back and lifted the belt, its weight multiplying exponentially with each millisecond. “Sara.”
Her eyes opened at the sound of her name. Seeing my stance in the mirror, she replied, her words drenched in tears as well as defeat, “Reminders.”
“What do they do?”
“They help me to not forget.”
I stepped closer and rubbed the leather over her round behind one more time. “Don’t forget it’s your job to count.”
With her lip still between her teeth, she nodded. I stepped back. The belt cut through the still air, creating a whistling sound; however, the crack never came. I’d stepped just out of reach. The clank of the buckle as it hit the linoleum floor bounced off the walls.
Sara’s eyes opened, questioning what had happened, yet she remained as statuesque as I’d taught her.
Reaching to the ground, I picked up her bra and panties. All the while her frightened eyes in the mirror watched my every move. Placing them next to her on the vanity, I said, “Get dressed, Stella. I’m calling my handler. This is over. The FBI will help you.”
Her back collapsed as she exhaled in relief, her small breasts flattening against the fake marble.
I expected an expletive, something. Instead she slowly straightened herself and stood. Staring at me incredulously, still through the mirror, I found the acidic contempt I’d sought. After gathering her underwear as well as her jeans and sweater, she walked into the small bathroom containing the lavatory and shower. The click of the lock eroded any lingering pieces of my heart.
Sinking to the bed, I rubbed my hands over my face.
Fuck!
That wasn’t what I’d wanted to do.
Holding her and explaining everything felt right. Risking her life didn’t.
I’d told her it was her decision, and it was. Her conflict was clear. And then, the way she’d used my real name when she accepted my apology, I’d known she was leaning toward the best decision, toward taking the offer of deprogramming and witness protection. I also knew that if I was the reason she returned to The Light and anything went wrong, I’d never forgive myself. Though she might not have said her decision in words, she had in her tone and actions. I knew her well enough to hear it loud and clear.
I heard the shower through the thin walls. Reaching for my jacket, I pulled two phones from my pocket. The one that I always used, my The Light phone, blinked. I looked at the screen and my heart sank. Though it was only nearing four in the morning in Fairbanks, in Detroit it was nearing eight. That meant the Assembly and Commission would be meeting soon.
I had a voice mail from Father Gabriel.
Apprehensively I pushed the sequence of buttons that allowed the voice mail to play.
“Brother Jacob . . .”
I replayed the message again, hoping I’d imagined it. After all, I hadn’t slept much in the last twenty-four hours. Maybe it was nothing more than a mirage.
Can mirages be auditory as well as visual?
Running my fingers through my hair, I turned on the burner phone. Special Agent Adler answered right away. I turned away from the bathroom and lowered my voice. “She knows a lot, not everything, but she’s not going back.”
“Then that’s it. Stay where you are, we’ll send a plane. We’ll bring you both back to the Anchorage field office.”
I swallowed the bile. “Yes, sir. We’ll be waiting for the call.”
“McAlister, you’ve done your best. Going back without her wouldn’t work. Hell, going back with her would’ve been risky.”
“Yes, sir. I know it’s not up to me, but I need to tell you, move fast.”
“You know we can’t possibly get enough people to the Northern Light for at least three hours. Even then it would take most of our Alaskan agents. One or two more days would allow us to get more agents there and be prepared.”
I fisted my hair, pulling it from the roots. “Sir, I woke to a message from Father Gabriel.”
“And?”
“As I told you, he’s in Detroit right now, at the Eastern Light.”
“Yes, and . . .” My handler was beginning to sound impatient.
“He instructed me to take my supplies back to the Northern Light and leave tonight for the Eastern Light.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, sir. It’s approximately a four-and-a-half-hour flight, but with the time difference if I leave Northern Light at nine tonight, I’d arrive at Eastern Light by six in the morning, Detroit time.”
“Is this an unusual request?”
“Part of it was,” I said, having trouble coming up with the words to explain it.
“Agent, I’m waiting.”
“A few weeks ago, I petitioned the Commission to allow me to take Sara with me when I flew. They hadn’t made a decision. That’s why if I tell them I took her, it’ll be a punishable transgression.”
“Yes, you mentioned that yesterday during our short debriefing.”
“Sir,” I said, “Father Gabriel said in his message that my petition was granted. I was told to bring Sara.”
“Oh my God! What does that mean?”
I spun at the sound of Sara’s voice. Her hair was wet, and her complexion matched the tips of our fingers.
“Agent, it’s time to stop this,” Special Agent Adler said.
I nodded, relief flooding my synapses.
“What?” Sara came to the bed and sat beside me. “What does that mean? Does Father Gabriel
know what I did, that I left?”
“Yes, sir,” I said into the phone, while turning toward Sara and shrugging.
“You can’t just shrug. If I go back, will it give you more time?”
“Agent,” Special Agent Adler said in my ear, “I’m assuming that’s Miss Montgomery that I hear?”
No, it’s Sara Adams.
That was what I wanted to say, but unlike Stella, I had the ability to bite my tongue. “Yes, sir, it is. I didn’t know she was listening.” My eyes narrowed her way, but instead of Sara’s demure response, Stella gave me a close-lipped fuck you smile as she cocked her head to the side.
“Give her the phone.”
“Sir?”
“I know you’ve been living in the dark ages when it comes to men and women, but give her the damn phone. I want to hear her response, from her.”
My teeth clenched as I covered the mouthpiece and turned toward Sara. “This is my handler. You may call him Special Agent. The less you know the better. I already told him your answer. It’s over. You’re going into witness protection.”
She reached for the phone.
“Sara,” I said, in my customary warning.
Her brows rose.
“Don’t—”
Taking the phone from my grasp, in a stage whisper she quipped, “Embarrass you? Oh, I wouldn’t fucking dream of it.” Placing the phone to her ear, Sara said, “Hello, Special Agent, this is Sara . . . I’m sorry, Stella Montgomery.”
A smile crept over her lips as she stood and walked farther away. “Thank you . . . I’m all right.” She looked my way. “I’d like to say it’s the first time I’ve ever been struck, but I can’t.”
Holy fuck!
“Yes, he told me . . .” She went on, “Yes, I do understand . . . Sir, may I ask, if I change my mind . . .” Again she looked toward me. “If I change my mind, would that give the bureau more time to arrange the raids in a way that may eliminate the loss of life? . . . That’s what Jacob/Jacoby said, sir . . . I do . . . I am . . . One more request, if I may . . . If something were to happen to me before we get out of The Light, would the FBI please contact my parents and those of Mindy Rosemont? . . . Yes, sir, she is . . . Yes, I’ve seen her . . . And a Detroit detective, Dylan Richards.”
She shrugged as she wrapped one arm around her midsection. “We were dating. He used to say I should join the DPD. Maybe he’d understand what happened if he knew I was working with the FBI . . . I understand.” She nodded. “Nothing until . . . Yes, sir. I hope you don’t either . . . Yes, I’ll give the phone back to him. Thank you, I believe it’s an honor . . . Good-bye.”
She handed the phone back to me. “Here, he needs to work out the details with you. We’re heading back immediately.”
What the fuck just happened?
“Sir?” I asked.
“If this weren’t so damn serious and dangerous, I’d like to hear how you managed to keep that woman oppressed in The Light. She seems very strong-willed.”
“You have no idea.”
CHAPTER 15
Stella/Sara
Scenes of normal life passed by the windows of Jacob’s borrowed truck. Though it was still early, not even five in the morning, this far north the sun was shining, illuminating the empty streets and giving me a glimpse of what life could be. Sighing, I took another bite of the breakfast bar Jacob had gotten for me from a convenience mart. If it weren’t for the bottle of water, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to swallow. I remembered Bernard saying that I ate cardboard for breakfast. I’d never thought I did, until now.
From my peripheral vision, I watched as Jacob took the last few bites of his breakfast sandwich and thought how strange it was that even my tastes were different now than they’d been as Stella. He’d offered to buy me something from the fast-food restaurant for breakfast, but after what we’d eaten late last night, I hadn’t thought I could stomach more grease.
“How’s your sandwich?” I asked, needing to hear his voice.
Swallowing a drink of his coffee, he replied, “Not as good as your cooking.”
“Good.”
“How’s your”—he nodded toward my remaining bar—“whatever that is?”
I shrugged. “I’d rather have my cooking too. Which is hilarious, if you knew how I, or Stella, used to cook.”
“Sara, no more Stella. It’s too big of a risk.”
I nodded, heeding his warning—more than resenting it.
“Coffee?” he asked, holding his cup for me.
I shook my head. “No, thank you.” He’d offered earlier to get me my own cup, but the idea of drinking the caffeine still ate at my conscience.
But the idea of putting yourself in greater danger doesn’t?
I ignored my inner monologue and turned back to the window. With each passing mile I became lost in the promise of Fairbanks. It wasn’t until Jacob’s voice registered that I came back to the present.
“Sara, are you listening?”
“No, sorry.”
“I’ve decided that our story is that you never left the Northern Light.”
I turned toward him. “You’ve decided?” Though I asked my question with a bit of resentment, the relief that came with his control surprised me.
“Yes,” he simply replied.
“How? I didn’t go to work yesterday. You said you spoke to Raquel, and she and Brother Benjamin looked for me.”
He nodded, his profile revealing the concern his words refused to utter.
“I’m sorry, Jacob. I’m sorry that I’ve messed up all your hard work and that now we’re in this situation.”
Dark eyes overflowing with remorse settled briefly on me before turning back to the road. “Don’t be.”
Apparently our time for heart-to-heart talks was over. Since we’d spoken to his handler, I had been lucky to get more than a couple of words strung together. Though I wanted more, I knew the man beside me. I knew that when he was thinking and worrying, he was quiet. He was the one currently devising a plan for our future, not necessarily one where we were together, but one where we were both alive.
“Something you must remember,” he began, “is that since you didn’t leave the Northern Light, you can’t be on the plane. All of our planes have what is essentially a black box. It records everything. Once you’re on the plane you can’t speak, and I can’t speak to you.”
“All right. Hopefully I won’t snore,” I said, trying to break the tension.
A corner of his lips moved upward. “If you do, I’ll throw something in your direction.”
“Hey, are you saying I snore?”
His shoulders moved up and down.
“If we can’t talk on the plane, please, fill me in on our cover story.”
“I’ve spoken to Benjamin and promised I’d be at Assembly this morning. Thankfully, since it’s Saturday, you don’t have work at the lab today. I told Benjamin that you spoke to Thomas, which you shouldn’t have done, and he took you against your will. I told him that after Raquel’s call, I flew to Thomas’s hangar and found you before anything happened, other than your blackened eye. I also asked him to keep the truth a secret. We both know what happens to people who leave The Light.”
His words sent a chill down my spine.
“He won’t even tell Raquel. The fewer people who know the better. But since Raquel was so worried, I said she could come check on you later today. And you’d be back to work after our trip to the Eastern Light.”
“That scares me.”
He simply nodded.
Was he scared too, or simply acknowledging my concern? I didn’t want to think about Jacob being scared. Instead my hand fluttered to my darkened eye. “And this?”
He shook his head. “Isn’t it obvious? I did it.”
“You?”
“I corrected you, probably for questioning too much.” He added the last part with a smirk.
I shook my head. “I thought you said that I could now—”
“When we’re alone
, but the point is, correction is my right. No one will question it. I’ve also decided it’s the reason you didn’t go to work yesterday.”
Yesterday? Has it only been twenty hours since I left the Northern Light?
“Sara, we can’t utter one word, or even think in terms of Stella and Jacoby. No one, and I mean no one, not Benjamin, not Raquel, no one can know what we’ve discussed. Brother Benjamin believes what I told him. I also told him that you hadn’t remembered your past. When I found you, you were mostly scared and afraid I’d be upset.”
Well, some of that was accurate. “Other people have their memories,” I protested. “Why can’t I?”
“Because other people weren’t investigating The Light when their memories were suppressed.”
I turned in his direction. “Do you really believe that’s why I was taken?”
“You said you Google Earthed the mansion in Bloomfield Hills?”
“Yes, but no one knew that. The thing is, I went there too.”
His head snapped in my direction. “You did what?”
“I went there. I went to the front gate and pushed the button and asked for Uriel Harris.”
“Jesus, Sara!”
“The voice from the box said I had the wrong address and asked me to leave.”
“So you did, right?”
“No.”
Jacob struck the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “Of course fucking not. What did you do?”
I sat taller. “I’m an investigative journalist. It’s what I do, did, whatever. I walked around the front fence and tried to take pictures.” I shrugged and looked back out the window. “When I left I saw a surveillance camera. Unfortunately, it probably recorded everything I did.” Thinking about the timeline, I added, “That was a few days before we went to that festival in Dearborn.” The realization made my stomach turn. That was the day Jacob had seen me for the first time. “Oh, God, my future was already set by then. Wasn’t it?”
With his jaw clenched, Jacob nodded. “Yes, do you see why you cannot get your memory back?”
“What about my medicine? Raquel and Benjamin know I’m off it.”
“Medicines work differently on different people. Just because you quit taking it, doesn’t guarantee that your memories will return. Beginning at the Eastern Light, acquired wives are given high doses of the medication intravenously. Brother Raphael has hypothesized that in some individuals that initial regimen is all that’s needed. The idea being that the receptors become permanently blocked. He’s said that the daily boosters in many women are merely an insurance policy. Not everyone’s brain responds exactly the same way. As soon as you have your period, you’re going back on the medicine.”