Hidden Pearl (39 page)

S.T. gritted his teeth, barely restraining a shudder. He knew the threat was not idle, and the vague memories of being little more than a zombie were more painful than anything physical that could be done to him.

“I can have my men hold your nose and force you to drink whatever I want,” Soul went on with satisfaction. “You really don’t have a choice in this. It’s all my game. Right now I want you coherent and able to act.” He then bent to Hank and put the glass to his lips, letting him drink half the glass. S.T. could taste every drop.

"Now then," Soul said, refilling the glass and bringing it close to S.T. "We do need to talk." Without asking, he put the glass to S.T.'s lips and let him drink. "You'll function better with a little liquid in you," Soul said as he finally stepped back.

"I'd function better without these," S.T. said clasping his hands over the chains that held him.

"Sorry, I don't agree and in this case, it's my opinion that counts. Now let's get down to business." He sat in a chair, comfortably situating himself before he looked back at his chained prisoner. His expression was amused and satisfied. "This is quite different from our last discussion--where I was begging you for my needs."

"Don't expect me to start begging."

Soul smiled again. "You never know… in the future. Now then, about those questions. What were you doing on my property?"

"Bird watching."

"You know, it would be easy for me to bring George back in here. He enjoys this sort of thing a great deal more than I do."

"If I end up dead or missing, you end up with a problem. I left two letters with someone you do not know directing a certain safety deposit box be opened if I turned up missing, suicidal or anything that prematurely ended my life."

Soul smiled. "Thinking ahead, were we?"

"It did occur to me I might have need of an insurance policy."

"So where do you think that leaves us? At checkmate?"

"I doubt that, more a check with it being your move."

"It's always been my move. Well, let me think about this a moment. I suppose you've got a suggestion for what you'd like."

"Releasing us all would be a good start"

Soul shook his head. "That would appear to be a win for you and lose for me. I do have a few cards to play myself."

"I've never doubted that."

"I suspicion you would be more upset at the threat of pain to someone you cared about than for yourself."

"If I had anyone I cared about," S.T. said, trying to keep his voice level and calm.

"Very good, but not believable. Well, at this point, I'm not interested in playing that card either." He rubbed his thumb along the edge of his mouth. "And hurting you, although providing George with a great deal of satisfaction--possibly too much--wasn't getting us anywhere either."

"So why don't you try bribery?"

"You are joking now. I couldn't trust you past the moment you drove over the ridge. No, we'll have to think of something offering more security to me."

"My death won't get you what you want."

"You might be surprised at what I want. At one time I would have thought my success rested on a church building. You were supposed to deliver that for me, but you've proven to be a disappointment."

"I take it the contract is no longer open for bids," S.T. said with a crooked smile.

Soul laughed. "Actually, now I have other plans." He raised his eyebrows and smiled again.

S.T. felt the fist claw at his gut. Christine. Soul was telling him that his unholy desires now involved her, but how? Would he hurt her? No, that seemed unlikely. Somehow Soul had turned his ruthless determination to have his own way into a resolve to have Christine. It took all the will-power S.T. possessed to keep his fear from showing.

"That doesn't seem to upset you as much as I'd expected."

"What?"

"Don't play stupid with me, half-breed. You and I both know I'm talking about Christine."

"It's nothing to me."

Soul laughed. "You are a delight." He stood up and walked to stand in front of S.T., then ran his hand down S.T.'s side. "Is Indian flesh tougher than ours which is why you can withstand this?" he asked, stroking across S.T.'s belly, then pinching a welt left by the whip Sharon had wielded.

S.T. kept his breaths shallow, forced himself to keep control of the urges that ran through him. It would be so easy to kill this man. Soul could have no idea how fast S.T. could lift his legs, have the man trapped between his thighs, then twist, snapping his neck. His martial arts training had taught him well for disabling and killing. Logic argued against it even given the threat to Christine. They would be far worse off in the hands of George than with his brother's tempering influence, even such as it was. Killing Soul would still leave him chained, but the urge was almost overpowering as Soul continued to stroke his hand across his ridged belly.

"Interesting muscular body. I suppose women like this sort of thing," Soul said, smiling as he finally stepped back. "I used to fancy myself something of an artist, enjoyed drawing the human form. Yours would be quite rewarding to work with."

"I don't suppose you'd be asking permission," S.T. gritted out.

Soul chuckled. "No, that wouldn't be necessary, would it? Tell you what; I need to think over your last proposal. I'll be back--possibly not alone this time." With that, he was gone, and S.T. finally released his pent up breath.

Hank hissed. "You suppose that boy swings both ways?" he mouthed with a wry smile.

S.T. glared at him. "I hope to hell not," he muttered. There were worse things than being beaten.

Hank chuckled, made a few weird mumbling sounds, then whispered, "I'll just bet you do.  So why didn't you tell him you'd decided to cooperate."

"He didn't want me to." Hank stared at him with disbelief.

S.T. was still having a hard time regulating his breathing. He felt enraged, furious that a man like Soul would be threatening Christine.  He controlled his rage enough to say for the possible bug, "I don't know what kind of game he's playing, but whatever it is, he's in the driver's seat."  He mouthed—for now.

#

Christine stared at the locked door as though by looking hard enough it would open. Then she realized she'd yet to hear anything good when it did open. Although she'd not slept, somehow the long night had passed. Feeling an inexplicable urge to neaten her appearance as much as possible, she loosened her long braid, smoothed it out, and rebraided it. Her clothing was dirty and wrinkled, and she wished for a change, then immediately took back that one too. Keep things as they are--give herself and hopefully her guys time to work a way out of all this. There had to be a way.

Then the door did open.

"Sharon, are you sure it's safe for you to come back here," Christine said, not eager to again face the woman who had hurt S.T.

"I needed... us to talk again. You love him, don't you?"

"Who?" Christine turned away, folding her arms over her chest.

"You know who. The half-breed."

"He's not a half-breed."

"I thought he was."

"Well, he is half Navajo, but that term is demeaning. I don't like it, and what difference does it make anyway?"

"None, and I guess you just answered my question, didn't you?"

"I can't trust you," Christine said.

"All right, you don't have to admit it, but I have to warn you anyway. They're going to find a way to make him get the computer he stole, then give him a drug that will destroy his mind."

"You mean like before?" Christine asked, feeling a cold chill, and she tightened her arms around chest.

"No, not like that. I've seen what this does to a person. He'll have a body but that's all. He won't know who he is, where he is, not anything. Then they'll let him go because he won't be able to tell anybody anything or do anything to anybody."

"How long does it last?" Christine asked, fear nearly overwhelming her.

Sharon shook her head. "I don't know if a person's ever the same afterward. Reverend Soul likes playing with things like that--drugs and stuff, but he doesn't care what they do long-term."

"I can't believe he would give S.T. something like that," Christine said, wishing it was true.

"I used to believe that whatever happened had to be, that there was a reason." She hesitated. "Do you know what happened to Lily?"

"Who was Lily?"

"I don’t blame you for not trusting me. I think she was also a half-breed. She looked like it. Reverend Soul named her Lily maybe as a joke as she was so dark skinned. He gave her one of his drugs. It wasn't supposed to hurt her, just help her keep control over the urges she kept getting to leave, except she went crazy, began hallucinating. We started chasing her, trying to reassure her. She got up onto the roof through a window... When she saw people coming toward her I guess she thought they were monsters or something. She jumped."

"The fall killed her?" Christine asked, knowing that had to be Storm’s sister. She knew he had hoped against hope that she had run off, but at least now she knew what had happened, if she ever got the chance to tell him.

Sharon nodded, pacing the small room.

"How did you ever stay with Reverend Soul after you saw things like that?"

"His teachings were so wonderful. I'd convince myself he was doing so much good that he had to be right with what he did other places and that he was doing it because he had to keep the group together. It was only after the whipping, after seeing the pain I inflicted that I like woke up and saw what was happening to him, to me."

"Are you going to go to the police?"

"I don't know... I'm afraid."

"Sharon, you can't make this right if you--"

The door slammed open. "In here again?" Soul mused, staring hard at Sharon. "This is becoming quite a habit. Is it a good one?"

"I like her visits," Christine said. "It helps pass the time."

"Is that all that's happening here?" he asked, turning a probing gaze on Christine.

Christine wasn't good at lying, but she knew if she told the literal truth to Soul, he would punish Sharon. His punishments weren't to be considered. "She was talking about you. Do you object to that?"

"I don't know. Should I?" he asked, moving farther into the room.

"You know Sharon's always been your greatest fan. She told me how much she always loved your sermons and I should learn from them."

He stared from one woman to the other. "Is that true, Sharon?" he asked.

"How many times have I told you?" Sharon asked, lowering her gaze.

"Very well, for now." He waved her out, then turned to Christine. "And how are you this morning?"

"Tired of being cooped up."

"You look lovely for being out of sorts," he said, bending to kiss her cheek.

"When can my friends and I leave?"

He smiled. "And here I thought you wanted to see Storm Walker, possibly have breakfast with him and Hank."

"You know I would like that," she said, feeling her heart jump in anticipation.