By the time he got her back to her place it was three in the morning and the ground was thick with frost. He turned off the engine and looked across at her, his heart quaking sickly. Though he'd only known her a few hours, his whole existence now seemed to hinge on hers. If anything should happen to her, he didn't think he'd survive. For the first time, he was starting to really understand his mother's fears for him. He was glad he was able to assure the loving woman who raised him that he now worked in a nice, safe laboratory.
"You don't have to do this. You can change your mind, stay just where you are, and I can drive us both home. I can even get you your own room if the idea of sharing mine is the roadblock."
Amy smiled a little sadly. "That's not a roadblock. That's an incentive. But I have to go back, at least for a day or two. I know a sensible person would just embrace all the wonderful new opportunities you’ve offered me. But I’m still too overwhelmed.
“You don’t know what it’s like to spend your whole life not being able to trust yourself. The therapists at the sanatorium tried to explain it to me. A normal child learns there’s a logical connection between their actions and the consequences of those actions. You do A; you get B. If you don’t want B; then you don’t do A, you do something else that gets you the result you want. And a normal child learns to trust their ability to negotiate their world by trial and error.
“But I never learned that, so the therapists told me. No matter what I did, I always got the result I
didn’t
want. Every choice I made ended up being the wrong one. So I learned to make as few choices as possible. I learned to leave the decisions to others, to minimise my chances of being wrong.
“Tonight I stepped away from that behaviour by going to see Marquez. And at first it seemed like, yet again, I got the result I didn’t want: fa... Hays punishing me.”
She paused and smiled across at him, her eyes alight with a glow that took his breath away. “But you made me persevere, made me keep choosing, and those decisions started to get me the results I wanted. For the first time, I started getting the results I wanted. That’s huge! You have no idea.
“Yet I need to go home. Even though everything you’ve told me makes perfect sense. And feels right. I...I still have things to process. And... I just need to go home.”
She took his hand that gripped the arm of his wheelchair. “I've got your number on my new encrypted burner phone. I know where to come if things get bad. I'll be in touch tomorrow to check in. So please, give me space, Cooper, okay?"
What could he say to that? "I'd give you the moon if I could, my beautiful girl. Sleep well."
He leaned in and kissed her chastely. If he tried to do more his cat would get into the act, and this was no place for their cats to come out.
For a moment, Amy seemed conflicted. She looked into his eyes doubtfully. "Tonight. You didn't set all that up to make me feel better about myself did you?"
He laughed. "Believe me, I'm not that masochistic. I knew there'd likely be some interest in the new girl, I didn't realise how much. Did you hear what those fellas said? They called you the pick of the bunch. That at least confirms my aesthetic appreciation wasn't skewed because you're my mate."
She smiled. "Everything is an experiment to you, isn't it?"
"Not really. But I tend to talk in scientific terms. Habit, I guess." He grimaced.
"Sweet dreams, sweet prince. Thank you for everything. Thank you for showing me that I'm not a circle with corners that need to be ground off. Squares are so much nicer than the circles I've met. So I have to think that maybe being a square is way better. You showed me that. I'm proud to be your mate." Her eyes shone with unshed tears and his throat closed up with them too.
"You are more than welcome. Be safe."
And with that she was gone, leaving only her subtle rose fragrance behind her. His cat raged, trying to follow his mate, but Cooper wrestled him into submission. Even though he feared what would happen to her if she got caught sneaking back into the house at this time of the morning, Amy had to be allowed to do what she felt was right.
What she said made sense. He’d learned to trust himself and his decisions because his parents had been a consistent, loving force in his early years. Except for her nurse, Amy had never known that. So he had to allow her to find her own way. Had to trust her so she could learn to trust herself. And be willing to let her fall, if that was what it took.
But as he tossed and turned in bed later that night, he wished a hundred times that his world didn't embrace Women's Lib so fully. He wished the old caveman techniques of throwing a woman over his shoulder and carrying her away could have worked with modern women. Right now, both he and his cat wanted Amy lying next to him. Even if he couldn’t offer her the kind of sexual fulfilment one of the others might provide, he could still give her the erotic pleasure of the bite. That at least didn't require legs.
Sneaking into the house would be more problematic than sneaking out, Amy realised immediately. She couldn’t be sure where the outside guard would be on his rounds. If he caught sight of her coming in, even if he didn’t confront her, he would most likely report her actions to her father, and then she’d suffer.
After looking in through the bars and seeing no sign of the guard, she entered the code and slipped through the open gate. Once it was closed behind her, she took shelter in the wall’s shadow, watching for any sign of movement in the front area of the property.
A minute later, she saw a dark figure moving inexorably in her direction.
So the guard was continuing the counter-clockwise rotations around the perimeter, was he? That path was leading directly to her. If she tried to move ahead of him, he’d catch sight of her as she shifted from one dark shadow to the next. If she stayed where she was, he’d come upon her.
Yet again her choice-making was flawed. No matter whether she took Path A or C she would get the unwanted B as the result. How could she have believed it was just that simple to change a lifetime of beliefs? She’d allowed Cooper and the confident Sons to convince her she could get a different result if she tried. Yet again, she’d been let down. Not by them. But by her own stupidity.
Cowering in the darkness, trying to come up with a way to escape her fate, she prayed to a God she was sure didn’t exist. Every step brought the guard closer to her hiding spot, closer to discovery. Could she bribe him into keeping her secret? She had money. This guard, Mario, was reasonably new. Might he be open to taking money to keep quiet?
His steps were getting closer. She could hear the leather of his gun-belt rubbing against his pants; hear the slight jangle of keys on his belt; the hot huffs of air blown into cold gloved hands. It almost seemed as if she could smell his aftershave, even from this distance.
“Mario,” a stage whisper called from the front porch of the house. Her focus had been totally on the approaching guard and Amy had missed the front door opening. Light flowed out through that open door, illuminating the dark, curved driveway and carefully pruned topiary bushes in the centre of the lawn.
The guard paused and looked in the direction of the house. He saw what Amy saw: Juanita holding a steaming mug. Amy’s heart lifted with real hope for the first time. By some act of fortune, Juanita had come unknowingly to her rescue.
Mario headed across the lawn to the front porch and took the mug from the maid’s hand. Making the most of the man’s turned back, Amy raced along the boundary in the direction from which he’d been coming. If he resumed his route where he left off, she’d be behind him.
She heard soft laughter carrying on the chilly air. Mario’s deep voice said something she couldn’t quite catch and Juanita gave him a little nudge, as if humorously insulted.
Just another minute, Juanita. Just keep him occupied another minute!
And that minute dragged on as she raced across the frosted, slippery grass towards the side of the property, praying yet again that she wouldn’t inadvertently set off a motion detector light.
Finally she was far enough to the back of the property that she could slow her pace. As the back door came into view, illuminated by the kitchen lights that were still ablaze, she made the final dash for it.
Panting a little, she drew her keys out of her coat pocket. Fumbling, hands shaking, she attempted to select the right key. Every minute that passed made her more vulnerable. How long would it take for Mario to make it around to the side of the house again and see her standing here?
Amy dropped her key-ring. It clattered onto the stone step. Hastily, she grabbed it up, selected the right key again, and tried putting it in the lock. This time she succeeded.
Opening and then closing the door quietly behind her, she held her breath, listening for the sound of footsteps that would tell her where the staff members were. From the soft click of the front door, she knew Juanita had just closed the front door. From somewhere up the back wooden stairs she could hear heavy male footsteps descending.
Any moment, either or both people would enter the kitchen and she’d be caught. There was no escape. All she could do was tear off her coat, stuff it under the bench and try to act as if she’d just come down for a snack. Opening the fridge seemed a good plan.
Both sets of footsteps approached at the same time. She heard Juanita ask Fred how he was going. The stiff reply told her what she already knew: this guard would not be willing to bend the rules for her. He was always coldly aloof, even with his peers.
"Miss Amy, you are up late," Juanita declared, her face still flushed from the cold outside. She carried the empty mug. “If you wanted a late-night snack you should have called down and I would have brought it up.”
Amy breathed another breath of relieved air. So Juanita was non-the-wiser to her activities. But she wasn’t wearing a dressing-gown or slippers. Surely her clothes should give her away.
“I have been working on my laptop and didn’t realise the time. And I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“You work too hard, Miss Amy,” she admonished lightly before turning to Fred, who was hovering in the doorway to the kitchen. The fridge door blocked him from seeing all but Amy’s head. “Get on with you. Mario says it is time for the shift change. You are taking advantage of the new guy to get more time in the warm.”
Fred grumbled and turned on his heel, heading down the corridor towards the front of the house. Again Amy huffed out a relieved sigh.
“And you get upstairs, too, Miss Amy. I will bring you up a snack in a few minutes when you have changed.” Juanita waved her out of the kitchen as if she was shooing chickens.
Amy was happy to comply. As soon as she heard the front door open, she dashed to the corridor and up the back stairs. She’d be in her room before Mario took over the interior route.
But that still left Juanita. Was the woman wise to her night-time escapade, and if so, could she be bribed?
As she hurriedly shucked off her clothes and donned PJs, Amy suddenly felt a sickening sense of loss replace her fears of discovery. It was stupid, but she was already missing Cooper. How was she going to last without him, even for a couple of short days?
This was madness. She shouldn't feel this way so quickly. After all, it was only a few hours ago that she'd first set eyes on him.
Sprawling on her back across her still-made-up bed, Amy let out a deep sigh as she tried to calm her fast heartbeat. The adrenalin that had been pumping through her system since she left the van was now dissipating, even though she still had Juanita to deal with. But somehow she knew the maid wouldn’t give her away. Hadn’t she caught her frowning with concern at different times when her father attacked her? No, not her father; Hays. When
Hays
attacked her.
How could a person's life change so suddenly and so completely? Less than eight hours ago she'd been anxiously wondering whether Marquez could heal what was broken inside her. Now she knew there was nothing broken. In fact, she was the very opposite of broken. She wasn’t Hays’ stupid, ugly daughter, she was something extraordinary, with a mate who thought her more beautiful than anyone he'd ever met.
It had been weird seeing versions of Cooper surrounding her. Had she doubted his
stranger than fiction
story of clones, she would have believed him after that demonstration. They were quite remarkably alike, except for small cosmetic differences. Yet their personalities were as dissimilar as individual normally were. There was serious, authoritative Chase; moody, bad-boy Colt; sexy, playful Connor; and three other tough guys who looked like they belonged to a motorcycle gang, not an elite team of super-soldiers.
When those tough guys had come prowling towards her like she was the Blue Plate Special arrived early, she'd been terrified. But that terror had turned to fury when the Goth one had insulted Cooper. How she managed to find the courage to make that comment she didn't know. It was out before she'd even thought to say it.
And they'd been impressed. No one had ever been impressed by her before. And they thought she was pretty and the pick of the bunch. Surely they hadn't been referring to Alyssa and Alice, who were both very pretty girls.
And the compliments kept coming, even the back-handed one from Alice when she'd said she was going to hate her for her hair. When had anyone envied her limp carrot-top before?
Chase had been assessing her from the moment they met and that had made her uneasy. But at no time did he say anything that wasn't complimentary or approving. He'd even offered the Sons’ help in getting the answers she needed. It wasn't their fault those answers weren't available on the net.
What if Cooper was right? What if she was beautiful? She'd spent so long seeing herself as deficient, seeing any overly-long look she received as a critical one, that considering the alternative was… unbelievably hard. But if she wanted to earn more of those approving nods from Cooper she'd have to let in the new beliefs about herself. He deserved a mate who was confident and brave. She would have to try to be those things for him.
A soft knock came to her door and Juanita bustled in carrying a tray. She slid it onto the desk by the window while she removed a mug of steaming soup and brought it over to her. Was this what she had taken to Mario?
"Did you have a good night?" Juanita asked as she waited for Amy to sit up so she could hand her the mug.
"I… I got back early as you know," she sputtered, not sure whether Juanita was referring to the first or second time she'd gone out.
"In the early
hours,
you mean. I monitor the gates, remember." Juanita winked impishly at her.
A Mexican woman in her late twenties, Juanita had come to work at the house not long before her nurse, Maria, had been forced to leave. Juanita and Maria had been good friends, and although this maid hadn't been as close to Amy as Maria, she'd always been friendly, if somewhat distant towards her.
"Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of that? I never wondered how you knew just when to open the door for me. But it’s the key pad on the gate that gives you warning, isn't it?" She groaned again. The old Amy would have beaten herself up for her stupidity; the new Amy just added this new information to her knowledge of the running of the household.
“Yes. There is a camera overlooking the gate and I can see who is coming or going on a monitor in the staff common-room.” Juanita smiled at her again.
"You won't tell my f...father will you?" she asked.
Juanita gave a little laugh and shrugged. "You are not a child anymore, Miss Amy. What you do is your business, I am thinking."
Had Juanita seen her at the gate and come out to Mario, intentionally acting as a distraction so she could get back into the house without detection? Had she done the same thing with Fred, so he didn’t get suspicious of her clothes, which had been hidden by the open refrigerator door, but wouldn’t have stayed that way had he moved further into the kitchen?
But why would she do such a thing? She may have been Maria’s friend, but that didn’t mean she was Amy’s.
Was she?
"Oh, thanks." Amy let out a gust of pent air as she accepted the mug of cream of chicken soup. "Um, Juanita, you were a friend of Maria's, weren't you?"
The other woman's face became instantly guarded. "Yes, Miss."
"My…father told me she went back to Mexico because her work visa expired. Is that true?"
Juanita walked back over to the tray and collected a plate of buttered toast triangles. "I…I am not sure."
Suddenly Amy had an idea. It was audacious and probably completely wrong. But if she was right, then she might just get some of the answers she needed. Did she continue on this path of decision-making? Taking risks? If she didn’t, how else could she find out the information she needed to know so desperately?
"Juanita, are you Résistance?"
The maid's hands stilled and she glanced up, eyes wide with horror.
Realising her mistake, Juanita glanced away quickly and made much of placing the plate of toast on the bedside table to Amy’s left. "What is that, Miss Amy?"
"An organisation fighting the Guild. Fighting people like your employers."
Juanita grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight. "You should not talk about such things, Miss Amy."
"Juanita
, I know
. The man I met last night is Résistance, and he told me all about it. If I'm not the Hays' real child then you must know how I came to be here."
Juanita stared at her thoughtfully. "Maria said this day would come, and when it did I was to tell you where to find her. She will give you the answers you are looking for."
"So she is still here? Where? I have to see her."
"I will call and tell her you are coming. Miguel will drive you."
"Miguel is Résistance, too?" she asked in astonishment. How many of the other staff she'd shared her life with knew of this secret? It felt like she'd been living on the top of a iceberg all these years and now she was starting to see just how much ice was really under her.
"Yes. We are the only two. So say nothing to anyone else, you understand? You put us all at risk, if you do."