Camellia tried to trace him using his voice, but he was definitely on the wide network, and he was as tuned to it as she was. It was as if he were a ghost. She puzzled out his threat. He wouldn’t burn down her garden; his friend Jeff would. She guessed Jeff was the taller of the two men sitting on the rocks. The man in her network couldn’t burn down the garden and destroy the plants any more than she could.
Who are you? Three words. A simple enough question. She was positive her position was just as hidden as his was.
She felt a jolt along a thread of the Middlemist Red Camellia network. In the brief moment, all subtleties were gone. The vibration was decidedly masculine and wholly sexual as it traveled back to her. This was far worse than she’d ever imagined.
Her heart went wild. There was no way he hadn’t felt her reaction, just as she felt the shock of his at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t been any more prepared for her than she had been for him. There was some relief in knowing he hadn’t expected their pairing—and there was absolutely no question that Whitney had paired the two of them. She was reacting to his scent, to the sound of his voice, just as he had reacted to hers.
My name is Jonas Harper. Tell me who you are.
Her stomach reacted, tied into a thousand knots. His voice was powerful, a whisper of command, yet it held a thousand promises. She steeled herself against that lure. She would never go back. She’d made up her mind she’d rather be dead. She wasn’t going to be trapped by his voice or anything he said to her. He knew who she was, or maybe he needed confirmation on which of the women she was. It was possible he didn’t know who he’d been paired with. That would be like Whitney.
Could Whitney have paired this man with all of the escapees? She fought back a dark, unsettling surge of fury, a knot of negative emotion that was so unlike her.
I will never go back to that place. She counted off seconds before she spoke again and then threw her voice off on different strands to ensure he couldn’t trace the sound back to where she was. There is no way to lie on this network. I am willing to kill you, your friends, burn my garden and die myself. Even as she told him the absolute truth, she knew she had spoken too many words in a row, communicated too long. Better to have given short bursts.
This soldier was too good. Not once had he given himself away, other than that faint scent she found intoxicating. He had infiltrated her garden and both networks, the mycelium and Middlemist Red networks, without giving his presence away, and now was stalking her using her own system to do so. She couldn’t make amateur mistakes. She’d been out of the game too long.
You can hear that I’m not lying. I didn’t come here seeking you. I had no idea you were here. I felt a threat and started following it to its source. I still feel it. And it isn’t coming from you. Can you feel it too?
There was absolute honesty in his voice. Middlemist Red would know a lie, and so would she. Even so, she wasn’t prepared to trust him. She was still feeling as if she was being hunted, and he was here. He had bypassed all her security measures, all her sentries, traps and alarms. Who knew what else he could do?
Did Whitney send you?
Absolutely not. I don’t work for Whitney. He did enhance me. I work for the United States government. I’m a member of GhostWalker Team One, the first unit he experimented on. You have to be one of the women who escaped when the Nortons and Team Two went after Marigold. They hoped to get Whitney at that time, but he managed to evade them.
Camellia was silent while she processed what he’d said. Marigold had been the last woman to leave the compound, and she’d left with Ken Norton. Camellia had lost track of her. The plan had been for all of them to go in different directions. They were to rendezvous at one point where they had been stashing money collectively after every mission they went on. The money was to be divided evenly, and they would all go their separate ways to make it more difficult for Whitney’s soldiers to track them.
If you truly are not here for me, then go away. Leave me alone.
This time he was the silent one. Her heart thudded. Did she really want him to leave? He was the first human being she’d talked to in so long. She wanted to see him. Put a face to that smoky voice. She tried to imagine what he looked like and couldn’t. She kept herself very still, holding her breath, waiting. Needing. It was just that she didn’t know how to trust.
Do you feel the threat?
She let air out slowly. It was there. The feeling of being hunted. Yes. It is vague. I thought it was you, but you’re close. If you’re the one making me feel as if I’m threatened, I would think . . . She trailed off. The feeling would be much more intense. Jonas wasn’t the impending threat, but he was definitely trouble.
There are women and children living in the GhostWalker compounds farther down the mountain. I believe you know some of them. Would you leave them to Whitney when you clearly could help them?
She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Of course she wouldn’t do that. If the threat is to children, I would aid them, but I would do it my way. I am not going to allow you to draw me into the open when you could . . . Again, she trailed off. What did she expect him to do? She believed Whitney hadn’t sent him. He couldn’t lie to her, not when he was using the Middlemist Red Camellia network.
Do you have a tattoo of the flower on your ankle?
She didn’t like that simple question. Why would he think that she would have a flower tattooed on her ankle? She resisted the urge to touch the beautiful replica of the Middlemist Red Camellia. The tattoo artist had been a genius, his work amazing. The camellia bloom on her ankle was so beautiful, she often spent time tracing the petals of the flower with the pads of her fingers, half expecting them to feel velvet soft. The flower appeared three dimensional, the petals standing out in vivid detail. She loved the tattoo. It was the only thing Whitney had ever done for the girls that was decent. He’d named each one of them after a flower and had the artist tattoo each girl’s namesake on her ankle.
Hard little knots of dread formed in her stomach. A question burned on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to know. Whitney had deceived them so many times, pretending to do something nice for them, when in fact he hadn’t. Her tattoo meant something to her. She didn’t want that taken away too.
Abruptly, she turned to walk into the center of her garden. She didn’t know if she was planning to make an escape, but she couldn’t stay still. He was too close, and he was going to tell her something terrible. Take one last thing away from her.
“Don’t go.”
He spoke aloud. His breath was warm in her ear. He didn’t block her path intentionally, but she walked right into him.
“Stay with me. Talk to me.”
There was an ache in his voice. It was barely there. More felt than heard, but it was there. She was so susceptible to him. It didn’t help that she hadn’t spoken to another human being in so long she was desperate for company, even as the thought terrified her.