If Looks Could Kill (6 page)

Caylin grinned, showing how happy she was to please him. “Um, I don't want to seem too pushy, Mr. West—”

“Call me Lucien, Caylin,” he said with a smile.

“Okay. Lucien. But if this works out for me—and I'm not saying it won't or anything . . .”

“Of course not,” Lucien reassured her.

“. . . I can help out even more. With the money, I mean. I have a trust fund and—”

“Caylin, Caylin.” Lucien stopped her. “Don't worry about that now. There will be plenty of time for that. Right now I want you to concentrate on your inner self. You must relax and find what you have lost. Do you understand?”

Caylin offered up a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I understand. Sorry for being too eager.”

“That's fine. You're not in Omaha anymore. Here you have all the time in the world,” Lucien said, gesturing grandly at the room around them. “Here you'll find what was lost. Call it what you want. Peace, harmony, enlightenment. Freedom from a bankrupt culture that values HDTV, DVD, and SUV. If you ask me, there's not enough LUV. I want you to think about that. Relax. Let nature take her course. You'll see. I promise you.”

Caylin nodded. Boy, he talked the talk and walked the walk, didn't he? But Caylin wondered if this man was capable of true evil.

It was anyone's guess.

But she knew she was the only one who could find out for sure.

•  •  •

Jo jammed on the brakes and turned the bike sideways, spilling herself and Theresa onto the pavement. They flopped and rolled with the momentum, trying to shield their heads and faces.

The bike slid on, slamming into the rear tires of the truck.

The Spy Girls rolled to a stop, and Jo deliriously watched as the truck crunched over the remains of the bike. The driver stopped, got out of the truck, and surveyed the smoking wreckage. Then he started waving his arms and screaming obscenities in Kinh-Sanhian.

“Whoa,” Jo moaned, rolling over.

“Beyond whoa,” Theresa croaked, holding a bleeding elbow.

“You okay?” Jo asked, grimacing when she saw T.'s wound.

“I'll live . . . I think,” Theresa muttered. “Where did you learn how to parallel park?”

“Now we're criticizing my driving?”

All Theresa could do was laugh. Jo scowled and then finally joined in.

•  •  •

“So, Caylin,” Lucien said with a smile. “You've had a small introduction to our little section of the world here. But I'd like to discuss it further with you if that would be okay?”

“Okay?” Caylin gushed. “That would be great!”

“Splendid. I know you must be very tired from your journey, so take some time to clean up and get settled. Jenny will see to you. After that, I was hoping you would join me for a late supper in my quarters.”

Uh-oh, she thought. Is this a date?

Caylin kept up her act, however, looking thrilled. “I'd
love
to, Lucien. It's more than I ever could have hoped for on my first day.”

“It's the least I can do,” Lucien replied. But he paused
when he spotted a shaved head approaching. “Excuse me, Caylin. Just for a moment.”

He met the bald man and spoke to him in hushed tones. The man looked incredibly intense, his brow furrowed and his jaw set.

Then Caylin saw it—Lucien's visage turned to rage for a split second. Not displeasure or impatience. But rage. Something the man said truly ticked him off. And Caylin knew that the face that had been so calming and handsome could be just as frightening. Lucien's personality was incredibly powerful—in both extremes.

Finally Lucien dismissed the shaved head. He stood for a moment with his back to Caylin, composing himself. He straightened his robe, took a deep breath, and turned back to her.

He was all serene smile. “I apologize for the interruption, Caylin.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked innocently.

“Not at all,” Lucien replied with a wave of dismissal. “I believe we were discussing dinner?”

“Yeah, it sounds too good to be true!” Caylin gushed,
even going so far as clapping excitedly. Lucien stared at her hands.

For a split second panic gripped her—she'd gone too far. The clapping was
way
over the top.

But Lucien simply grinned at her enthusiasm.

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. “It's settled. When it's time, you'll be called. Until then, I hope you're comfortable.”

“I'm sure I will be. Thanks so much, Lucien. It means the world.”

He smiled in total confidence. “Your world, Caylin, is about to change dramatically. Both our worlds are. The worlds in here”—he touched his head and chest—“and the real world that surrounds us all.” His eyes grew sparkly and playful and—Caylin was sure of it—a little sinister. “The world is ripe for a colossal change . . .”

Lucien's grin intensified.

“. . . and I, beautiful Caylin, am going to make that happen.”

Jo and Theresa returned to the flat in peace. And pieces.

Actually, besides some scrapes and cuts—a particularly nasty one on Theresa's elbow—they were basically okay. But when she looked in the mirror inside the front door, all Theresa could see were two girls buried under a layer of dirt, grease, and fish oil.

“So how many lives do you have left?” Jo asked as they limped into the living room. “I think this cat's down to about three.”

“And we were worried that we were too clean,” Theresa grumbled in reply.

Jo ripped her once beautiful Armani jacket off and threw it across the room in disgust. “I can't believe those slimeballs totaled my jacket! Do you know how long it took me to find a tailor who could press it just right?”

“About as long as it's going to take me to strangle you,” Theresa replied wearily. “I can hardly lift my arms . . . but in your case, I'll make an exception.”

Jo glared at her. “Hey, I got us out of there. And we're the ones still walking.”

“You call that walking?” Theresa said of Jo's exhausted limp. “You look like Yoda trying to be a runway model.”

“Oh, shut up.”

She and Jo shuffled in and slumped down on the throw pillows. After a few minutes of exhausted silence, they had enough energy to get up for some beverages and food. But the throw pillows were like magnets. Soon they were lounging again, listening to the hustle and bustle on the street outside. Staring at the exotic nighttime skyline through the long windows that lined the far wall.

“Is it me,” Theresa said, “or was that attack a little too smooth to be a random run-in with a bike gang?”

“That was a professional hit,” Jo replied. “No doubt about it. Those MRZ bikes are too pricey for your average hood. They're racing bikes. They start in the mid-five-figure range.” She smirked. “And oh, what a treat to ride.”

Theresa fished an ice cube out of her soda and held it against a bruise on her forehead. She winced. “Then we are definitely onto something. Do you think the warehouse is a front?”

Jo shrugged. “For what? It's empty.”

“Empty. Yet guarded by killer bikers,” Theresa pointed out.

Jo sighed and rubbed her sore back. “Nothing adds up.”

“Well, let's try some of that math,” Theresa offered. “Between the warehouse and my poor nuked computer, you have a second-rate cult leader who wears high security like a bullet-proof vest.”

“But for what?” Jo pressed. “Bilking rich college kids out of their inheritances?”

“It has to be something bigger.” Theresa shook her head slowly. “You're talking about attempted murder and government-level encryptions. Not to mention four brand-new MRZ motorcycles. That's some slick financing. That tells me Lucien's not so second-rate.”

“Great,” Jo grumbled. “And as usual, we don't know squat.”

Theresa rolled over and gazed grimly at her partner. “Whatever it is, Jo, we better find out soon. Because our best friend is right in the middle of it.”

•  •  •

After receiving Lucien's gracious invitation to dinner, Caylin was turned over to Jenny, who showed Caylin to her quarters. Outwardly Jenny was still just as friendly, but Caylin immediately noticed a chillier air from her.

“Lucien has never done that before,” Jenny pointed out as they crossed the compound to the members' quarters.

“Done what?” Caylin asked.

“Asked a new arrival to have dinner with him—in
his
quarters.” Jenny smiled slyly. “You must have made quite an impression.”

Caylin shrugged. “I'm just going with the flow.”

They crossed the courtyard and entered a stone building. Jenny led her to the second floor and down a long hallway that resembled a college dorm. She opened a door about halfway down the hall and flipped on the light. Inside was a bed, already made, a desk and chair, and a small closet. A set of white garments was laid out on the bed for her.

“I guessed at the size,” Jenny said as Caylin lifted her white top from the mattress. “I hope they fit.”

“I'm sure it will be fine,” Caylin replied. They're so baggy they might as well be one size fits all, she thought.

“Everyone gets their own room,” Jenny said. “Everything you'll need is provided for you. Someone will come along and take your backpack.”

Caylin paused. “They will?”

“Don't worry. All our personal belongings are put into storage, but you have access to them anytime you want to. But believe me, after a while you'll forget you ever brought anything with you.” Jenny chuckled. “I haven't gone through my stuff in about four months.”

Wow, Caylin thought. She's truly let it all go. I wonder what Jenny was like before she got here.

Caylin smiled at her. “This place really is your home.”

Jenny smiled back. “It's hard to remember what life was like before I came to Lucien's world. Yes, it really is home.”

Caylin dumped her pack on the bed and sat down, glancing around the nearly bare room. She couldn't believe
that people actually lived without stimulus from the outside world. She'd go nuts without her workouts, her sparring, and the occasional cheesy Jean Claude Van Dammage flick. Thankfully, this arrangement was temporary. But she still had to keep up a solid front.

“If you want to take a shower, the shower room is down the hall,” Jenny said before leaving. “It's expected that you wear the whites for your first audience with Lucien. First official audience, that is.”

“Thanks,” Caylin said. “A shower sounds good.”

Ha, she thought, that's the first honest thing I've said since I got here.

“Good luck, Caylin,” Jenny said, her hand on the doorknob. “You can meet the others tomorrow. Until then, enjoy what Lucien has to say.”

“He's very charming, isn't he?” Caylin said, looking Jenny in the eye.

Jenny couldn't suppress her grin. “Lucien is . . .
everything,
Caylin. It's the only way to describe him. You'll see. Good night.”

“Good night,” Caylin said with a wave.

Jenny closed the door without a sound.

Whoa. That girl is either seriously programmed or has a serious crush . . . or both, Caylin thought.

She prepped for her shower. But before leaving the room, she slipped the tiny Tower cell phone out of her backpack and carried it with her. She wasn't going to call the Spy Girls just yet, but she didn't want the phone out of her sight until she could find a safe hiding place for it.

It was a good thing, too. For when she returned from her shower, her backpack—including all of her personal effects—was gone. Creepy. She donned the white vestments, which proved to be quite comfortable.

A few minutes later a shaved head came to her door.

It was time for dinner.

The guard—Caylin couldn't help but think of the shaved heads as guards—led her back across the compound to the main temple. But this time she was led to the far side, behind a curtain and down a long hall. At the end was an open elevator. The guard gestured for her to get in.

When she did, the door shut and she shot upward. The
ride was brief. As far as Caylin could tell, she was on the top floor of the temple building.

The doors opened, and she stepped out into paradise, part two.

Lucien's private quarters were breathtaking. A twenty-foot-long window stretched from floor to ceiling all around them, offering a view of the compound and surrounding mountains that was worth a stack of cash.

The center of the room was sunk into the floor, with three steps leading down into it. This was the dining area, apparently. The table was round but with short little legs. They would have to squat on pillows to eat. The smell of oriental cooking wafted to her, and immediately Caylin's stomach growled. She'd forgotten that she hadn't eaten all day.

“Caylin,” came Lucien's voice.

She turned, and there he was. He must have come out from behind one of the many curtains that lined the wall behind her. He still wore his white robes but had dumped the tan one. Leisure wear, Caylin mused.

“So . . . do you approve of the view?” he asked.

“It's amazing,” Caylin replied. “Leadership sure has its privileges.”

Watch it, she warned herself. That comment sounded a little too much like the real Caylin. She had to be more lame and humble.

But Lucien laughed at the quip. “It certainly does. I find this place so peaceful. It grounds me. And reminds me that even though I act as mentor to many people, I'm still just a simple man. The mountains out there are a lot bigger than I am.”

That's funny, Caylin thought. An hour earlier he was talking about being the one who would change the world.

Lucien approached her and felt the fabric of her sleeve. He smiled. “These suit you, I think. Are they comfortable?”

Caylin tried not to squirm. As handsome and charming as he was, she didn't like him being so close.