“Careful, you are still under doctor’s care, and the doctor says to limit your alcohol intake.” His lips curled into a seductive smile.
No smile would erase everything he’d done to her and forced on her these last months. She snatched her glass back and sloshed the contents onto the floor. “I need all the help I can get tonight. Don’t expect me to do this sober.”
“Relax, it’s just like riding the proverbial bicycle – you never forget.”
“Well, it helps if you’ve at least ridden the bicycle in the first place.”
The fire crackled. The silence palpable. She felt rather than saw Marcus’ stunned countenance. The robe felt entirely too small as she hugged its silken fabric closer, willed its length to the floor. She’d never felt more exposed.
Wasn’t like she hadn’t had the rare opportunity for sex. In college and especially medical school, most of her classmates were going at it wherever and whenever they could to relieve stress. Hell, many times they never even got a name. But she’d been focused on school and surviving as a Midwesterner in New York City. She’d wanted more than just to have a guy treat her vagina like a pit-stop on his way to the next race. She had Joe to thank for that.
“I had no idea. I just assumed…”
“Yeah, well I never found the time.”
For a moment Marcus grew thoughtful, his mouth set in a hard line when she glanced his way. He took her glass and set the stemware on the table before grasping Samantha’s hands.
“You’re trembling.”
What could she say? Well duh, doctor.
He draped a hand across the small of her back and drew her closer, the thin silk doing little to mask his manhood as he pressed against her hip. The rush of his heartbeat gave away his desire as Marcus cradled her head to his chest and stroked her new-found hair. He didn’t rush her.
Samantha stared at the flames in the fireplace, willing her mind to focus on the job that must be done. When Marcus brushed his lips against her forehead, she closed her eyes and imagined they were Joe’s. As his fingertips lightly traced her spine and glanced off her skin below the robe, she shivered and remembered Joe’s touch. Warm lips pressed against her neck. She leaned into him as slowly he traced the wet trail of his lips with his fingers. Samantha’s heart beat faster.
Marcus whispered as his lips rose to her ear. “Tonight I want you to let yourself feel. Feel the hush of every breath – the spark of every touch. The thundering of your heart.”
How this act played into the grand scheme of things she still didn’t understand, but as their lips brushed she tried not to care. Marcus’ lips probed hers, parting as their breath met in between. Hadn’t she hated this guy once? Why then did his touch send such shivers up her spine?
Instead of a glance, Marcus’ hands slid down her back and up the robe to stroke bare skin. The pressure against her hip grew. An ache developed deep in her groin.
Just as her body melted in his arms, Marcus drew back and stared into her eyes, his like a deep blue ocean wave crashing around her. Samantha felt off-kilter, unstable. The wine must have done something to her. Her legs felt unsteady as he led her into the inner room.
His gaze continued to hold hers as they lay upon the black velvet comforter. The robe skewed, exposing his taut skin down to his abs. The rush of her heartbeat pounded in her ears as Samantha traced the exposed muscles with her fingertips until reaching the belt. Marcus smiled, removing his robe as he settled his mouth to hers. His kisses were again gentle, soothing before growing into a passionate breath.
Before Samantha realized what she was doing, she draped her leg over his. As if on cue, Marcus reached around to the knot of her robe. In one deft motion, she lay exposed until he pulled her to his own form.
A flash of fire tore through Samantha’s mind as their mouths probed deeper, their tongues dancing in rhythm as their naked bodies pressed harder against one another. Marcus’ hands ran down the skin of her back and slid over her newly rounded buttocks. Samantha responded in kind, running her hands down his muscled torso and gripping hard flesh. Her heart raced. Their sweat mingled.
Then his mouth left hers and latched gently onto her breast, lolling her nipple with his tongue. When Samantha winced, Marcus seemed immediately aware of the pain he’d caused. His gaze again drew hers.
“You okay?”
Samantha responded by pressing her lips once again to his, yearning for more. She no longer cared that this had all come about against her will. Now she embraced it with a passion burning deep inside.
He came over her. Samantha opened her legs to him and entwined her ankles over his buttocks. She opened her eyes with a gasp as he entered. Their gaze connected as they rocked the bed, pressing her pelvis to his in synchronized rhythm, matching his increasing pace. A tingling began in the base of her spine and traveled all the way up before exploding in her head as Marcus exploded into her body.
They lay entangled, wrapped together among the sheets as their breathing gradually returned to normal. Samantha couldn’t believe what she’d missed all these years. Then again, she was in the hands of a pro.
Marcus took a deep cleansing breath. “How do you feel?”
Samantha smiled at him. “A little lightheaded.”
“Do you hurt at any of your incision sites?”
Samantha got in touch with that warm feeling again, but didn’t sense any pain. “Nope, all seems well.”
“Good.”
Without any warning Samantha thudded to the floor, swept from the bed in one swift kick.
“What the hell was that for?”
Marcus rose from the bed and slid into his black silk robe. Samantha remained on the floor – stunned. He picked up her emerald robe and threw it at her face, his eyes appearing coal black.
“We are done here. Now get out – whore.”
Chapter 26 - The Plan
Samantha didn’t know how she could face Marcus the next morning. How mortifying. How could he have held her like he did, kissed her with such passion only to toss her out of his bed like so much garbage? Was it to toughen her up for the job? Did everything around here have to do with the job – the plan?
Sleep had eluded her all night long as she alternated between rage at his kicking her out so unceremoniously and…she didn’t know how to characterize the other feeling. All she knew was when her mind drifted back to the manner in which he’d held her, caressed her body, pressed his lips to hers, she couldn’t help but feel utterly confused. How many other women had he trained?
Debrille insisted on their sharing breakfast with him, probably to explore and discuss every disgusting detail of what had transpired last night. She’d considered refusing to attend, had even stayed cooped up in the bathroom to escape the degradation when the guards arrived. In the end, what little life she had with the Elite she still valued, but Samantha had her fighting gloves ready.
Debrille set his coffee cup aside and smiled as the goons escorted her into his presence. He looked insignificant sitting at the end of the long formal table surrounded by the Tuscan marble room. A fire blazed in the gigantic hearth behind him like the very fires of hell itself – with Debrille taking on the embodiment of the devil.
“Ah, my dear, you are looking well this morning. I’m sure you could use a hearty breakfast.” He cut into his Eggs Benedict and held up the morsel as yolk slowly oozed down the Canadian bacon. “At one time in my life I professed vegetarianism, but circumstances sometimes force us to leave behind our ideals, hmm?”
Marcus shoveled poached eggs and strawberry crepes into his mouth without acknowledging her presence. Yeah, he’d worked up a good appetite all right – at her expense. As he slowly gulped a glass of milk, he glanced over the rim in her direction. The usual cold eyes and demeanor were back. If only last night were a bad dream.
“I have very little appetite this morning.” Her glare bored through Marcus before addressing the butler. “I’ll just have a glass of orange juice.”
“N
onsense,” Debrille stated. “Prepare Miss Bartlett a full course.”
Samantha gripped the arms of the chair until her juice and a plate were set before her. She willed her hands to remain calm, but her knuckles turned white as she gripped the glass.
Pick your fights carefully, girlie.
Debrille continued, “Did you sleep well last night, my dear?”
Gee, the man seemed like Hitler reborn sometimes, loving every minute of making her squirm before going in for the kill.
“No I didn’t. As a matter of fact, I was rather uncomfortable – a bit sore still, I suppose.”
“Well probably to be expected. It’s been awhile, has it?”
Marcus interjected into the conversation without missing a bite. “She was a virgin.”
Samantha’s jaw almost hit the floor along with her chair as she stood and knocked it over, her juice glass shattering against the wall behind Marcus. Nails ready like claws, she started over the table at him before being held back by Debrille’s goons.
“I’m talking about the rough treatment of the doctor here so soon after my surgeries.” Samantha glowered at Marcus. “Your penis is too small to be felt anyway. It’s a limp noodle!”
Debrille’s brow furrowed with Marcus’ revelation. The guards unceremoniously plunked her back into the recovered chair and hovered nearby.
Debrille continued addressing Marcus as if she weren’t even in the room. “This could complicate things a bit, put the plan off schedule.”
“No, she’s a quick study. Leave it to me, and we’ll keep things right on target.” Marcus glanced her way and for the first time that morning he smiled. “We’ll just have to work overtime.”
Samantha remained in her chair, but in her heart she was standing, pummeling the doctor in her mind. “If you think there’ll be anymore of last night, you aren’t as smart as Debrille thinks.” She couldn’t believe they were arguing over her sex life as if she were a still life painting on the wall.
Debrille sighed and spoke to her as if she were a doe-eyed child. “Now Samantha, dear, you know right where that’s going to lead you, yes? You always put up such a fight but the only person it hurts is you. I really don’t want to ask Dr. Marcus to draw his gun over breakfast.”
“Why not? It’s never stopped him before.”
The report of the gun stopped Samantha cold. Strands of her hair fluttered as the bullet whizzed past her ear and splintered the edge of the chair. The smoking barrel of Marcus’ gun moved ever so slight to square between her eyes. If required, the next shot would not be purposefully missed.
Debrille shook his head and rubbed his temple. “Now see what you’ve done? You’ve gone and made Dr. Marcus ruin a perfectly good Louis the Sixteenth – and it isn’t even noon yet.” Beady eyes reflected flames like those in the hearth.
It would only take one tiny incident to put Debrille over the edge. The man placed the value of his treasures much higher than the dregs of human life. The Hippocratic Oath meant nothing unless saving a life bode well for his plan. Always the plan.
Breathe deep, girlie. Breathe.
Samantha willed her racing heart to slow. It took all the feigned humility she could muster. “I’m sorry for my outburst.” Samantha hung her head.
When would the nightmare end? Would it always be this way with them? Using her, tormenting her in whatever way they chose? Could she never have a life of her own again? Might she claim she was under the influence of painkillers when she agreed to join this wayward group of control-freaks?
Oh, Momma, what did they do to you?
Immediately Debrille’s voice sounded as if his perfect morning had not been so sorely interrupted. “Now that we have that little tiff out of the way, it is time we discuss how you and your new found talents are to fit into the plan.”
Samantha’s head shot up in anticipation. They were actually going to let her in on what the last six months had been all about. She had to be dreaming.
Marcus stated, “First, we have chosen an operative name for you of Alexandra Shuvinovsky, since he is fond of all things Russian. That should immediately pique his interest.”
“Alexandra – I like it. Sounds appropriate and goes with the hair.” She had no choice but to go along but couldn’t hold back the sarcastic jab. They had her playing a part in their little spy game.
“Alexandra needs to be sexy, confident,” continued Marcus. “She will be capable of drawing a man in with her eyes as well as her mind, making him desire her above all, opening up to him in many ways while staying in complete control. Then she will crush him.”
Samantha nodded. “Sounds interesting. I kinda like this chic. Who will be her target? Someone close to the President? Does she do the whole Cabinet and work her way up to the Chief of Staff?”
Marcus narrowed his eyes. Debrille lit a stogie and drew on it. Their silence was deafening. Samantha glanced back to Marcus then Debrille again. Something didn’t feel right. Breakfast churned in her stomach.
Finally Debrille broke the silence. “We go straight to the top.”
The realization hit her like a truck. The room spun. “You can’t mean….”
“Alexandra’s target is Frederick Douglas Warner, President of the United States.” A smile curled the edges of Debrille’s lips.
Samantha lost her breakfast all over Debrille’s smooth marble floor. The orange juice burned like fire coming up. Funny, it didn’t do that going down.
“But he’s my – he’s, uh….” Samantha didn’t know how to categorize the man without losing another round of juice. They were well aware of the connection.
“Your father,” Debrille offered.
“Don’t ever call him that to me again.”
Cigar smoke stung her eyes as Debrille blew into her face. “But he has no relation to Alexandra. She has no one – no ties whatsoever.”
“But Alexandra is me. I’m supposed to be Alexandra. You’re asking me to willingly commit incest here.”
Marcus interrupted. “No, Alexandra is completely separate. She resides in you, yes, but you will learn to find her and let her have free reign as need and situation demands.”
Any moment she expected someone to break into a smile and yell just kidding, to let the poker faces slide. But they were serious. She stared at them. Incredulous. They actually thought what they were asking her to do seemed perfectly reasonable.
“So what you’re proposing is that I’m supposed to be some sort of schizo – multiple personalities and the whole gamut?”
“Alexandra is your power, your confidence,” Marcus began. “She does not feel but analyzes. You will harness these qualities and allow Alexandra to take shape. Don’t worry, I will train you in this process.”
This was crazy. How could they expect her to do such an abominable thing? Had this been her part in the plan all along? She should have asked more questions. The sound of the splintered chair echoed in her memory, the zing as the bullet had whizzed past. Now the questions were too late. No turning back.
“But how can I separate what I feel about what you are asking me to do from the act itself – the revulsion, disgust?”
“Your feelings will always be as Samantha and as such you will make them disappear when needed for Alexandra to be prominent.”
“I just don’t understand.”
Debrille interjected. “Remember when I told you Samantha Bartlett is dead?”
“Yeah.”
“Now is the time to put it into action. In the coming months you will see to that before returning topside. At that time you will be no one else but Alexandra Schuvinovsky, because Alexandra must be your strength to endure what you must face.”
Chapter 27 - The Connection
The snow had settled in, the sky a leaden December gray. If the ice and snow didn’t force him into a slide, the sideswipe of the wind might. Joe tried to focus on the road through the blowing snow but his mind continued steering him toward Mr. Eddis’ death – and the letter. Sam’s grandm
other had lived off payments from Castor after her husband’s death. Large payments. From what he’d gathered, the man had subcontracted on a project with Castor only once – and gave his life for it. After his death, his widow had funds to live well and never work: never drove a fancy car, stayed in the same house, and never gave to any organizations except her church. Gramm wasn’t the type to accept a payoff – or was she?
Then there were those enormous energy bills to consider. It went on for years and then suddenly stopped without ever starting up again. If Castor funneled money to them, maybe they’d also somehow tapped into their utilities for several years. If so, for what purpose?
The cell phone jarred his thoughts back to the present. “Roberts.”
“Chief Snowe here. Glad I got you. What’s your position?”
“East on four hundred and heading back. What’s up?”
“I need you to get in as soon as possible.”
“ETA in thirty if I can stay out of the ditch.” Something about the tone in the chief’s voice got the gut churning again. “What’s happened now?”
The chief hesitated. “Your friend, Bill Proctor. His Explorer rolled on the ice.”
Joe swallowed hard and gripped the phone harder as he stared through the blizzard conditions – white like Bill’s vehicle.
“What hospital?”
“I’m sorry, Joe. He didn’t make it.”
***
The hole in Joe’s heart kept growing. People who’d meant something to him were being fast cut out of his life – too fast. He hadn’t even had much of a chance to get to know Sam again after her absence all those years, but he’d never stopped thinking about her. First Gramm, Sam, then Mr. Eddis.
Now Bill.
It ate away at his soul, and there remained no one to blame but himself.
An accident – yeah right. Instinct said Bill hadn’t laid low like he’d told him to. Someone at Castor had gotten wise to his snooping, yet he still didn’t have a single piece of direct evidence to link Castor to the murders – but his gut told him their hands were covered in blood. Bill had been digging around for his investigation. Who was next? Better they come straight for him than anyone who’d assisted him. He’d have to do better covering his own tracks. Forget it. They already had him in their sights. Better to hit them head-on than hide like a frightened animal.