Make Mine a Marine (17 page)

Other than the clinical exchange she had shared with the veterinarian upon their arrival, she hadn't spoken a word. Brodie maintained a respectful distance, understanding the intensity of her sorrow, knowing exactly how it felt to be responsible for hurting someone you loved, and knowing that no words could ease the guilt that consumed all else.

She turned and faced him, tilting her chin and looking at him with a clear, steady gaze. “It's stupid to let a phobia keep me from seeking help. Especially when this is the result of my stubbornness.”

He followed her gaze to the door of the emergency room where the vet and an assistant worked with Duke. “It's not stubbornness, Beej. It's called self-preservation. After living through the childhood you described to me, you have every reason to be afraid.”

She shrugged her shoulders and looked at him. “Maybe if I had gone to a psychiatrist sooner, I could have avoided this.”

“A psychiatrist can't help you with what you're up against.”

“Damn it, Brodie, quit talking in riddles.” She thrust her fingers into her hair and shot past him, pacing the length of the room. “You know more than you're telling me. Maybe if we worked together, we could figure this out. But no, you've got some old-fashioned notion that you're a knight in shining armor who has to protect me.”

She planted herself in front of him, grateful and defiant at the same time. “Well, you can't protect me. You've tried, and I love you for it, but you can't.”

She made a fist and tapped her chest. “
I
need to do something. As soon as we know about Duke, I want you to take me to your friend. I'll answer his questions or get hypnotized or do whatever it is he wants.”

Brodie reached for her, but she pulled away.

“I have to get this monster out of my head. You have to tell me those secrets you keep hiding.”

A weight that seemed like hell settled around his shoulders. The desperate, pleading light in BJ's beautifully expressive eyes resigned him to telling the truth. But maybe he could buy a few more hours of her love. Maybe she didn't have to hate him just yet.

“I'll tell you what I know. But after you talk to Hawk.”

“Why wait?” Her gaze grew skeptical.

Briefly, Brodie wished this mission was taking place even a hundred years earlier, back in a time when he could tell a woman to accept what he said without argument. But this wasn't the 1800's or the Middle Ages. This was the modern world where women spoke their minds and asked questions, where they served on the front line in the same battles a man did.

This was BJ's world, and part of what made her so special was the honesty and tenacity she wouldn't have expressed a century ago. She deserved an explanation. Maybe if the evil that stemmed from his time hadn't reached across the centuries and sunk its talons into BJ's mind, he would find it easier to respect the demands of a modern woman.

Carefully, he put together his explanation. “I'm afraid the information might upset you. I'd rather wait and tell you afterward, in case it affects Hawk's ability to help you.”

“Okay.” She agreed to the compromise, and something in her eyes shifted. Her resolution remained firm, but now she opened herself to her need. Her need for him. She swayed forward and Brodie caught her, wrapping her tenderly in his embrace. “Anyone else would have put me away in an asylum by now.”

“In my natural time, you would have been chained in the tower. If nobody had beheaded you yet for that smart mouth of yours.”

Her laughter reverberated against his stomach. She leaned back against his arms and gave him one of those beautiful, bright smiles that made him feel human. “I'm lucky, I guess.”

The smile vanished and the mood was broken when the door swung open. “Ms. Kincaid?”

BJ clasped his hand and squeezed it tightly, waiting for the vet to speak.

“Is he okay?”

The vet's kind countenance took in both BJ and Brodie. “Fortunately, you acted quickly and kept him from going into shock. We pumped his stomach, and yes, I think he's going to be fine.”

Brodie pressed her hand in return, sending up a silent thank you that fate had made a rare, favorable decision in his life.

“I want to keep him until tomorrow for observation, but I think he could use a friendly tummy rub.”

“Absolutely.”

BJ's relief was a palpable thing. When the vet held the door open for them, Brodie stayed put. “You go ahead. I don't want to get him agitated.”

The door swung shut behind them, leaving Brodie alone in the waiting room. With the immediate crisis over, he turned his thoughts to other matters. Why would Damon want BJ to kill the dog? Was it simply a show of power? A reminder that he still controlled BJ's mind?

What kind of game was Damon Morrisey playing? He used BJ's skills to tap into computers undetected around the world. Her pirated ideas could make millions on either the legal or the black market. Those things made sense. The lust for power was an entity that fed upon itself. The more Damon accumulated, the more he wanted. He could control his employees, control his protégée. With BJ's technological capabilities at his command, he could spread his influence throughout the world.

But why turn BJ into a killer? Damon must have recognized Brodie immediately as his daughter's slayer, so he would have known BJ could never succeed in killing him. Yet he programmed her to try anyway. And why go after the dog?

Brodie stalked to the window, symbolically looking for some inspiring light on the subject. Duke had as much spirit as a Doberman, as much intelligence as a German shepherd. His diminutive size did nothing to diminish his loyalty and devotion to BJ.

He remembered the first time he had met the mutt. How the tiny thing had attacked his boot and wedged himself protectively between BJ and himself. He remembered the growling and the snarling, despite BJ's assertion that he was normally a very good-natured pet.

Brodie snapped into intuitive awareness. Duke sensed that he was different. Unnatural. Immortal.

Duke would have the same reaction to Damon. And BJ just might believe the truth if Duke backed it up. Would a sorcerer as powerful as Damon Morrisey really fear that a noisy dog might give him away?

If that were true, it could only mean one thing. Damon's control was slipping. He was no longer the all-powerful sorcerer who could kill a man with a mere suggestion of thought, a flick of his hand. Damon was covering his bases. He was afraid.

He could be beaten.

Brodie bought BJ breakfast at a real sit-down restaurant, an ordeal he would not have endured a week ago. Customers stared at him, the waitresses whispered to each other behind the counter. The busboy who brought them their water spoke to BJ, but never made eye contact with him.

For once, Brodie didn't mind being a sideshow. He didn't really feel like one with BJ sitting across from him, sharing silly stories about her adventures with Duke. He could listen to that husky-honey voice for hours without tiring of it. And even if she couldn't speak, he'd still know her thoughts. Her eyes showed him everything—relief, love, anticipation, apprehension.

She listened to him intently, looking beyond the scars.

She worked a miracle in that restaurant that morning, easing the tension in the people around them, allaying their fears and curiosity about the big, bad monster of a man just by being with him.

But now that they were alone again, heading across northeast Kansas on Route 36, she had grown quiet, withdrawn. He reached across the seat and captured her hand. “Sleepy?”

She offered him a reassuring smile. “Just thinking.” She looked out the window again. “There's not much out here but cornfields, is there? These rolling hills seem to go on forever.”

“The land is fertile,” he said. “Don't be fooled by the desolation. This area is rich in history. The Pony Express came through here. This highway generally follows the Oregon Trail.”

“Let me guess. You were a wagon train master in the 1880's.”

Brodie shook his head. “I worked as a guard for the Overland Express Stage Company. We followed the same route to Sacramento.”

BJ laughed. “You know, that is really a bizarre thing to say while you're driving four-wheel drive SUV with a six-cylinder engine. But I believe you.”

They rode in companionable silence for several more minutes before she asked, “This Indian friend of yours, is he immortal, too?”

Brodie answered the question with the same seriousness in which it was asked. “No. He's a friend from the Corps. First Lieutenant Echohawk. Communications and reconnaissance. I never did know his first name. We just called him Hawk.”

“He probably doesn't get much business up here, does he?”

“They may be spread out, but a lot of his people live in this region of the country. There are several reservations in the area. He counsels all kinds of problems—juvenile delinquency, marriage issues, depression. He did a lot of work with local farmers a few years back when the agricultural industry was going broke.”

Brodie paused and thought about the man he had served with. On special missions, they had depended on each other for survival. They still contacted each other from time to time, mostly to inquire about leads on Jonathan Ramsey. Yet Brodie knew very little about the man himself.

“I don't know his reasons, but I think the solitude up here suits him.”

“Do you trust him?”

He felt her gaze, sensed the trepidation in her fingertips. He slowed the Explorer as they reached the outskirts of Marysville, Kansas. “In battle, I always acted as if I were mortal. I kept my head down and took the same precautions the other guys did. It made me a better soldier, I think, to pretend a bullet could take me out, too. I served with good men. I trusted them. I trust Hawk to take care of you, too.”

She seemed to relax with his reassurance, but he suspected her relief was only skin-deep. When he pulled into a parking space in front of Hawk's office, she stiffened up again. Brodie cut the engine. He leaned across the seat and caught her chin in his palm. She faced him without resistance.

“I'll be with you every step of the way,” he promised.

BJ smiled crookedly. “I'm counting on it.”

He kissed her briefly yet surely, liking the flush it left on her cheeks better than the pallor that had been there before.

The front door opened before they reached it. “Brodie.”

“Hawk.”

Brodie shook hands and introduced BJ. The Indian was lanky and tall the way Brodie remembered, but he had let his sleek black hair grow to shoulder length. The familiar mystery still glittered in the obsidian eyes that studied BJ.

Hawk spoke to Brodie, although his gaze never left BJ. “I see the shadows in her eyes. Come in. Let's see what I can find.”

He moved aside for BJ to enter first. She glanced up at Brodie, waited for his approving nod, then set her shoulders and determinedly stepped inside.

Chapter
Eleven

“Are you sure hypnosis is safe?”

“This isn't true hypnosis. I just want to relax you enough to recall some hidden memories.”

BJ decided that she liked Hawk, although Brodie's ready trust went a long way to dispel the anxiety building in her as the counselor asked her a series of questions regarding her episodes. Hawk’s voice was soft, gentle, mesmerizing. But his words were succinct and to the point. He was kind and patient, but he didn't waste any time with common pleasantries.

Brodie hovered in the background of Hawk's office, a comfortable, masculine room replete with Native American artifacts. Hawk sat in an easy chair draped with a colorful Indian blanket while BJ curled in the corner of his couch.

“I'd like you to lie down, BJ. Make yourself comfortable.”

After a second's hesitation, she complied. She plumped a pillow at one end of the couch and stretched out on her back.

“Close your eyes and listen to the sound of my voice.”

For several minutes, Hawk led her through relaxation techniques, mentally erasing the tension from her limbs. But as muscle after muscle of her body relaxed, her mind tightened and clouded with all the old fears.

BJ shot up to a sitting position. Her limp body struggled for balance following the abrupt movement. “I can't do this.”

Hawk's dark eyes were a stark contrast to the icy familiarity of Brodie's pale gaze. Hawk's eyes were kind, but the security, the special cherishing gleam she needed was missing.

Brodie appeared instantly at Hawk's shoulder. “I'm right here, Beej.”

Hawk must have seen the connection between his guests, and smoothly altered his approach. “Brodie, sit with her.”

“Will that distract her?”

“I don't think so.”

BJ slowly expelled the panic she held in check. The cushions sagged beside her, taking Brodie's weight. She turned on her knees to face him. Brodie held out his hands and she took them, adjusting her grip within his, absorbing his strength, finding her own strength in the presence of his love and support.

“Shall we try this again?”

BJ nodded, concentrating on Brodie's face. The ugly hollow beneath his cheek throbbed with the beating of his pulse. His hard mouth pressed into its perpetual horizontal line. And his remarkable eyes shone with faith in her and trust in Hawk.

This time, as Hawk spoke, everything within her relaxed. Brodie's grip never slackened, his gaze never left hers. But somewhere along the line, BJ slipped away from her surroundings. She sank into something soft while the line between the outer world and her inner mind blurred and disappeared.

After several moments of fuzzy incoherence, a wall threw itself up inside her head. As solid and imposing as brick and mortar, the blank oblivion prevented her from seeing what lay on the other side.

“Must get through.” She heard the voice, knew it was hers, but it came from such a distance that she knew she had left the substantive world and entered a plane of ethereal existence.

The image of a fractured lightning bolt floated past once. Then again.

“Bridget. It's nothing.”

“No. You can't turn me away this time. I have to remember.”

Physically, BJ tensed her muscles. Mentally, she summoned her strength to push past the impenetrable wall.

“I've seen you. I know what's on the other side. I will remember.”

“It's nothing.”

“Stop saying that! I know you're there. I'll find you.”

Then BJ saw herself running. She pushed her way through hazy darkness, running on a cloud, running from the light toward the dark abyss.

“It's nothing. Turn back.”

BJ pushed forward, her breath coming in short, painful gasps. “Not this time.”

A chink opened in the wall. Blurry halos of light flashed behind the nothingness. BJ touched the wall, wedged her fingers through the crack.

“Let me through!”

Lightning flashed, momentarily blinding her. A silvery circle floated before her eyes.
“It's nothing”
echoed in her ears.

“No!”

With Brodie's strength flowing through her, she wrenched the opening even wider. Light spilled through, bathing her in a new level of reality and awareness. Then she was through. With the finality of a slamming door, she was on the other side, the darkness behind her.

Gradually the light took shape and form. She watched herself from an unseen place. She sat in her office at the computer. It was late, judging by the number of lights she had turned on in the room. Duke dozed by her feet. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, programming new code.

She looked over her own shoulder at the screen, hoping to discover some truth that would help her. She noticed the shadow that fell over her from behind, but the BJ at the computer did not. Duke growled, alerting the other BJ. But it was too late. Long hair swung into her line of vision just as the rubber cudgel slammed into a precise spot at the juncture of BJ's neck and skull.

The other BJ slumped onto the keyboard. Duke leaped to her defense, but got kicked aside for his troubles. The other BJ moaned in dazed awareness as a needle pricked her arm. A black- gloved hand reached around her and dialed a number on the phone.

“She's ready.”

The assailant hung up and pulled the other, reeling, BJ to a sitting position. When he was sure she'd remain upright, he pointed her face toward the computer monitor.

The lines of code she had put there blipped to black. Then a clear screen appeared. She watched, transfixed, as the image of a lightning bolt surrounded by a silver circle appeared on the screen.

The assailant picked up Duke and tossed the snarling dog into the closet. When he returned, his face came into focus. His smiling, handsome, greedy face came into focus.

Rick Chambers.

The BJ who watched the scene tried to step forward. “Why are you doing this?” she asked when her feet wouldn't move.

Rick glanced with satisfaction at the computer screen. A program of words and symbols unfolded before the staring BJ's eyes. “Why are you programming me?”

The other BJ stared, unblinking, falling under the spell. Rick punched up the other computer and sat in front of it, slipping a flash drive into the USB port and typing in a set of commands. After several minutes, he shut off the machine and placed another call.

“It's done.” He waited while someone spoke. “I understand.”

He cradled the receiver, then crouched on the floor beside BJ. He turned her chair toward him and whispered in a condescending, menacing voice. “Bridget?”

The other BJ blinked, then focused on Rick.

“Bridget, you will remember nothing. You will do as you are instructed and then you will forget. If you try to fight this, you will hear 'It's nothing' and you will forget. You will forget tonight and anything else I tell you. It's nothing, Bridget.”

He turned her chair back toward the computer and stood, laughing smugly behind her. “You think you're so smart. You're making this way too easy, you freaky brainiac. You'll pay for your arrogance. I promise, you'll pay.”

He reached past her and punched a button on the keyboard. “Good night, Bridget.” He laughed. Then he disappeared before the other BJ shook herself into waking awareness.

BJ felt the same pain the other BJ felt. She rubbed at her own temple just the way the other BJ did. “I must have dozed off.” She muttered in sync with the other BJ. “Man, what a headache.”

Barking interrupted both BJs.

“Duke? Duke. He knows. He knows everything.” BJ faded from the scene in her office.

Blackness closed upon her, rushing at her with the speed and power of a freight train. She ran wildly, trying to beat the shadow before it consumed her.

“No!” she shrieked. Tongues of evil lapped at her heels. She pushed herself harder. “Brodie!”

The shadow expanded, cutting off all the light. She didn't know where to turn. She spun frantically, lost in the vortex. An eerie chill touched her, making her jump. “Brodie!”

She started to shake, violently, back and forth. “BJ? I'm here. Come to me, sweetheart, come back.”

Suddenly she was falling, spiraling downward through the black void.

“BJ!”

Then she slammed into consciousness, abruptly opening her eyes. Brodie hovered above her, shaking her by the shoulders.

Abruptly, gratefully, she recognized where she was. Not in the shadowy place. In the afternoon light. With Brodie.

She flung her arms around his neck. He caught her squarely against his chest, crushing her in his protective embrace.

“It was so awful,” she whispered.

“I know, honey. We heard. We could imagine.”

BJ remembered Hawk was there with them and modestly slackened her hold. But Brodie didn't release her entirely. Instead, he shifted her onto his lap, wrapping his arms loosely around her. She snuggled securely against him, glad for the shelter that kept her demons at bay.

Hawk wore a grim expression. His eyes gave her no clue to what he might be thinking.

“Was I any help?”

“Yes.” His answer told her nothing.

She would have pressed him further, but a yawn forestalled her question.

“You must be exhausted.” Hawk got up and crossed to his desk as though the session was over. “Rest for a while. I think you'll be able to. I have some questions for Brodie.”

“But what about Rick Chambers? And the symbol I saw? The same one is on Brodie's chest.”

Hawk waved aside her questions. “I want you to sleep if you can. You'll be safe here. I need you rested and rational before we can continue.”

“All right.” Reluctantly, she agreed. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept well for any length of time. Brodie was with her to keep her safe. Hawk sounded as if he thought he could help her.

She lay back on the sofa. Brodie tucked the blanket around her and brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead.

“I'll be within shouting distance if you need me.”

“Okay.” Her smile encompassed Brodie and his friend. “Thanks, Hawk.”

“Don't thank me yet. We'll get some coffee down the block and return within an hour. Sleep well.”

BJ nodded, already drifting into a restful sleep. Answers were within her reach now. Already she could think of one way to help herself. But exhaustion claimed her before the plan could be put into motion.

“What aren't you telling me?” Hawk asked.

Brodie looked at his companion over the rim of his coffee mug. The man would make one hell of a card player. He never revealed more than he was ready to share.

Brodie set down his mug and waited for Hawk to do the same. “I know who's responsible for the brainwashing.”

Hawk released a tight breath. “But you haven't told BJ.”

“I don't think she'd believe me. I know she wouldn't want to. And I can't explain it in any rational way she could understand.”

“Perhaps you'd better explain to me.” Hawk fingered his mug with deceptive detachment. “I sense the presence of the Dark Ones inside her. There is evil at work here. Something not of this world.”

Brodie hesitated. “You believe in such things?”

“I am shaman. My people believe in the forces of light and darkness.” Hawk rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “When we first met at Camp Lejeune for Special Forces training, I sensed you were an Ancient One. You transcend the parameters of normal human existence.”

Brodie wasn't shocked so much as relieved at Hawk's intuition about him. He leaned back in the booth seat. Other than Jonathan and BJ, he had told no one of his immortality. Not in this lifetime, anyway. But Hawk knew—or at least suspected.

Regaining his composure, Brodie leaned forward and matched Hawk's stance. He could speak freely now. He trusted Hawk to believe the truth.

“In 1216, I served as a knight for the villagers of Camber-on-Avon. In a revolt against a feudal lord, I inadvertently killed his only daughter. As punishment for my mistake, I was cursed by the lord—a sorcerer.  That sorcerer lives today,” Brodie said, “And he has replaced his lost daughter with BJ.”

Hawk's eyes narrowed. “He’s her father?”

Brodie shook his head. “Her mentor. BJ was orphaned at a young age. She's known him for thirteen years, and credits him with turning her life around, giving her purpose. She believes he loves her.”

“Does he?”

“How could he? She's bright and caring and funny and generous beyond reason. But he's taking away all that in the name of vengeance or greed or… hell, I don't know.”

“So you believe BJ is controlled by magic, not posthypnotic suggestion?”

Brodie heaved his shoulders in a massive shrug. “I don't know. Maybe both. That injection bit she described throws me. Maybe that's how magic works in the modern world. I can't explain Rick Chambers attacking her. I told you about him. His motives hinge strictly on personal gain and professional jealousy.”

“Is it possible that he's being manipulated by the sorcerer as well?”