Page 14 of Double Take (Cosmic Mates #5)

Stars in the night sky sparkled like diamonds. The air smelled sweet, and the cobblestone streets felt like air beneath his feet as Bragg strode toward the Happy Night Inn. He’d connected with the woman he loved, and she’d invited him into her home.

He’d heard of soul mates, the rare individual with whom you developed a natural, deep, lifelong bond. He and Faith had that. In her presence, he was complete and whole.

She hadn’t said she loved him, but she felt their connection and responded to it. If they had time to let nature take its course, she might fall in love with him. But they didn’t, so he’d have to settle for a few stolen weeks.

Unless he didn’t settle. Unless he grabbed what he wanted with both hands and hung on.

What if I stay? He came to a sudden stop on the street.

What if I stay? He’d assumed he had to return, but what if he didn’t? What if the restraints were only in his mind? The sheep in Patagonia stayed within enclosures they could easily jump over. Born and raised in captivity, they perceived the fencing as a greater barrier than it was.

What if the insurmountable tie to Dark Ops was a conditioned perception? If he’d been brainwashed to think they had total control? They had approved his vacation. If they’d intended to keep him on a short leash, why allow him furlough at all?

No, the agency is a threat. It’s not just in my mind. People who cross them vanish.

Or maybe they allowed people to believe that to control them. Spread that rumor themselves. What if Dark Ops had no real power over enlistees and clones?

Shouldn’t he test the restraints before accepting them?

If I go AWOL and stay here, and they are serious, I’m screwed. Faith is screwed. No one would be able to protect them. A century ago, the government relocated people and gave them new identities to protect them from the bad guys.

Unfortunately, in their case, Dark Ops was the bad guy. He would need to proceed with caution.

He didn’t have a solution yet, but he still had a few weeks. If they put their heads together, perhaps they could come up with something. I won’t surrender without a fight. He wouldn’t give up the woman he loved.

He entered the Happy Night Inn lobby. Chin on chest, mouth open, the gray-haired, grizzled clerk snored behind the check-in desk. There was a half-empty cup of coffee next to him. Apparently he needs more than coffee to keep him awake. Bragg tiptoed past. The clerk could snooze while Bragg showered, changed clothes, and collected his stuff.

He let himself into his darkened room, feeling his way to the desk lamp. Before he reached it, light flooded the room.

“I knew you weren’t in Patagonia.” Marshall sat in the corner, a weapon resting on his knee.

* * * *

I’m so stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I can’t believe I fell for Mark’s bullshit again! Wrapped in self-recrimination, Faith marched alongside Rogers and Glenn. She hadn’t wanted to go with them, but they’d hustled her out of the cottage before she could protest.

John wasn’t a clone at all—but her dearly non-departed husband who’d gone AWOL from Dark Ops. Or maybe Mark fabricated that part, too. Maybe these men worked for an ordinary policing agency, and her husband was a common criminal. The men hadn’t identified the organization they represented.

He’s the one, her inner wisdom insisted.

Inner moron . Why did I believe him? Why did I abandon my caution?

Why hadn’t she listened to her common sense? Cloning a human being would be a huge scientific feat, but to produce an adult ? Preposterous. But she’d bought it. She turned a blind eye to the evidence proving he’d lied—the scar , his dead-on “impersonation.” Of course he could act like him—he was him! She’d accepted every ridiculous explanation. Why? Because she liked him? Out of loneliness? An ersatz familiarity? Because her inner idiot said he was the one? Because he seemed to like Rusty? It couldn’t be hard to pretend to like a cat. He’d faked feelings for her for years.

I can’t believe I fell for the same asshole twice. I slept with him!

“I’m such an idiot,” she muttered.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself. Hammond is very good at what he does,” Rogers said.

He’d been uncharacteristically good in bed. She remembered her husband as a selfish lover, uncaring about her needs. As John, he’d focused on her pleasure. Another way to snow her?

“That’s why we need your help to locate him,” Glenn said.

“I told you. He went to the inn.” It should have been the first place they looked. Willow Wood only had one inn. Where else would a visitor stay? Unless he hooked up with a stupid woman who invited him to stay in her cottage.

“The Happy Night Inn. Another agent is there now,” Rogers said.

“Only one?” Why send two agents to bring her in for questioning and one to apprehend Mark? That seemed odd.

“Marshall can be very… persuasive .”

Persuasive as in threatening? Mark could get hurt? She didn’t want to see him killed or shot! Her heart hammered. The men escorting her were armed. Under the porch light, the bulge under their jackets had been unmistakable. I never should have left the cottage. She was getting a bad feeling. They hadn’t given her a good feeling, but the foreboding and dread had worsened.

“If you know where he is and can take him into custody, why do you need me?”

“We have questions that need answers.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“You know more than you think.” Rogers shot her a sideways glance. “We offered to talk at the cottage.”

She disliked the way he tried to make this her fault. Yes, she’d resisted letting them in at first, but as soon as they’d dropped the bombshell, there’d been no more talk of talking. They’d rushed her out of the cottage so fast, she’d forgotten to turn off the oven.

The cobbler would be a charred, blackened mess. The steaks were on the counter. Rusty would find them and enjoy a feast fit for a king. She wasn’t the only one Mark had fooled. The cat had loved him, and he had genuinely seemed to like him, too. For a man who disliked animals in general, and hated cats in particular, he’d hidden his feelings well.

She eyed her escorts. Their caginess, the lack of transparency, and weapons unnerved her. An aura of danger surrounded them. Despite his many lies and faults, Mark, past and present, had never, ever laid a hand on her. She’d never felt physically threatened by him, but these men exuded menace. How did she know that they had told her the truth? Had she been too quick to believe them?

The change in personality. His affection for the cat. The way he made love. The nuts—he’d eaten nuts. All circumstantial, but, added together, it made a strong case for John being a clone.

“I identified my husband’s body at the morgue,” she said, watching them for a reaction.

The men said nothing.

“Did you hear me?”

Glenn glanced at Rogers. “That wasn’t him.”

“Who was it, then?” I know my own husband. I know who he is. I know who he’s not.

That’s why she’d accepted John’s story, because deep in her gut, she recognized that he wasn’t Mark.

He really is a clone.

John is walking into a trap. I have to warn him. She eyed the deserted street. Dammit, where the hell is everybody? Willow Wood was a pedestrian village. Why was no one walking tonight?

“I’ve heard enough. You don’t need me. I’m going home.” She spun around.

“Not so fast.” Rogers grabbed her arm.

“Let go of me!”

“Not until we’re done.”

“I’m done now.” She tried to wrench out of his grasp. Glenn grabbed her other arm. “I told you I don’t know anything!”

“We think you do, and you’re insurance,” Roger said.

They need me for bait. They’re going to use me to lure him in. Did that mean the agent named Marshall hadn’t managed to apprehend him?

“Help! Help me!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Help! I’m being kidnapped!”

Rogers swore, and then she felt a sharp sting in her neck.

* * * *

Faith came to on a cold, hard, gray-speckled floor, her mind fuzzy, her vision slightly blurry. Where the hell am I? Seconds later, she remembered. The men. The sting. The bastards drugged me! She rubbed her neck and scrambled to her feet.

The exit didn’t open. The solid-steel sliding panel had no handles, knobs, or levers. A tiny red eye glowed on an electronic pad. Did that open the door? She waved. The red eye blinked. She pressed her hand to the pad and got an electrical shock. “Ow!”

Rubbing her arm, she surveyed the room, noticing now how the table and chairs around it were molded to the floor.

A sensor-controlled sliding door. Furniture affixed to the floor. Dull-gray floor and walls.

I’m on a spaceship. Has it launched? How long have I been here? She listened for the high-pitched squeal of an engine. Planting palms on the wall, she felt for a vibration. No noise, no vibration. Still grounded. But for how long?

I have to get off this ship! I have to find John.

Unless they’d captured him? Was he on this ship, too? She wished she’d never told Rogers and Glenn she knew John was a clone. The agents had blindsided her. In hindsight, she realized she should have sent them on a wild goose chase to find their quarry.

“Anybody out there? Let me out!” She pounded on the door. “Rogers! Glenn! I’ll tell you everything I know!” she lied. Could anyone hear her? Maybe the room was soundproofed—or bugged. Were they watching her on vid? She scanned the room from floor to ceiling but saw no recording or transmitter devices.

She would tell them nothing. She’d tear a page from Mark’s book and feed them a line of crap. Let them continue to believe they’d convinced her her husband was alive. Hopefully, she could get them to drop a clue to John’s whereabouts. Maybe she could still send them on that wild goose chase.

Yelling, she pounded on the door again to no avail.

She had no choice but to wait for the agents.