Rule 53 Page 7

  “I specialise in social conscience, specifically in reconstruction, rebuilding society with a social impact and a competitive advantage through shared values,” he answered her original question.

  “They teach that bullshit at Harvard?”

  “They teach that level of wilful ignorance at Trinity?” he retorted.

  His stare was unsettling, that sense of the familiar again, and her conversation with Walters came to mind, along with Rainey’s source of funding. It troubled her and she ignored his jibe, moved away from him, but he wasn’t letting her go that easily.

  “Nice tat,” he commented of the exposed artwork. She continued to ignore him. “You’re behaving badly.”

  “No, Mr Rainey, I just don’t want to be on the receiving end of your sales pitch, especially when there are more important and more likely investors for you to convince of your… social conscience.”

  “I’m not here convince anyone. That’s Swayne’s job tonight.”

  “And what’s yours?”

  “I’m just here to have fun, shake a few hands, try chatting up a few beautiful women, but I find myself talking to you.”

  “Don’t let me stop you from achieving your lofty goals.”

  “You don’t like to lose, do you? At anything,” he said.

  “Winning isn’t everything.”

  “You’re right; it’s the only thing.”

  That pinged another unsettling sensation, dredging up a long forgotten memory, of her dad saying the same thing. She faced Rainey, held herself tall and in her heels, was at eye level with him.

  “There are plenty of other people here for you to schmooze.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “I’m of no strategic value to you.”

  “I think you underestimate your value.”

  “Far from it, but my currency doesn’t work in this environment.”

  “You’re hilarious, Leigh. Feisty too.”

  “You’re not, Mr Rainey. You’re just another man who wilfully ignores every cue to quit.”

  “Call me Nate,” he said, but she ignored him. “Is it Jake?” he asked, catching the man in question looking at them from his observation point. “Are you two…?”

  She glared at Rainey but said nothing, knowing to break the silence would be an admission, confirming Rainey’s question, and with the Senator within earshot, no response was the only dignified one.

  “Are you interested in Jake?” she asked instead. “You want me to set you up with him?”

  “He’s not my type.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be relieved to hear it. And I’m not your type either.”

  “Oh Leigh, you’ve mistaken my intentions, I’m not interested in you that way.”

  “What way?”

  “I’m not trying to get you into bed.”

  “Just into your pocket.”

  “As I told you, I could use someone with your skill set.”

  “And I told you…”

  He held his hand up to forestall her.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re not in it for the money, blah blah. Your sense of social justice would match my social conscience restructuring project.”

  She shook her head, refrained from arguing back, knowing there was no point. Rainey had an answer for whatever she threw at him. Instead, she walked away, her sweeping glance around taking in Jake, and the other security personnel dotted about the place, focused on Rainey. Or was it on her? Were they scrutinising her in case she made a sudden move or took some drastic action? Or did they suspect her of spying? Besides, what would a software developer, assigned to a foreign embassy, be doing at this soiree? Had Swayne just set her up?

  Leigh knocked back the rest of her drink and handed the empty glass to a passing waiter as she made her way towards the exit. She stumbled, a misstep she found disorientating. The last time she felt like this was in her early twenties, on a drug and alcohol fuelled binge, and even in her growing confusion she understood what was happening; someone had drugged her. She needed to find somewhere private to make herself ill, try to sick the contents of her stomach back up before it got worse. She felt a reassuring hand cup her elbow, supporting her and she turned, expecting, hoping it was Jake, but she found Nathan and tried to pull away from him. She stumbled back, but Nathan’s grip tightened and held her upright.

  “You…” she started. “You did this.”

  “Yeah, I did, the guy working the bar is one of mine,” he answered, putting his arm around her waist and supporting her, leading her to his waiting car, and manoeuvring her into the back seat where she passed out.

  He sat in beside her and instructed the concerned driver to go, reassuring him with a story of her having too much to drink.

  CHAPTER 23

  The after-effect of the drug was brutal, and her head hurt as she came to. She tried to move, but found her limbs not working, not obeying her commands. Her limbs weren’t the problem. She found herself restrained and tied to a chair, and despite her still fuzzy mind, she struggled against her bindings. This reminded her of the time Garda Tom Barnett threw her ass in a cell for the night to scare her from a drug–fuelled life. His effort at the time had no effect on her. It took a German Master in BDSM to achieve that, and get her through college, clean and sober.

  She now shook her head to clear her thinking and face the person who did this to her. She found Nathan Rainey. He leaned against the wall, facing her, hands in his pockets, and in that instant, the truth she’d tried to deny to herself became clear. She knew why he looked familiar, and she couldn’t deny it any longer.

  “I have to admit, you impressed me the first time we met,” Nathan told her, daring to come closer. “You’re very like our father.”

  “Say what?” she asked.

  “You heard me.”

  She stayed quiet, still struggling with the remnants of the drug, and drawing the moment out in the hopes he’d reveal more. He was more than happy to oblige.

  “Yeah, I’m his dirty little secret.”

  “You’re only a minor one on a very long list, I assure you.” If she intended it as an insult, it missed its mark and he chuckled.

  “Would you like details?” he asked.

  “Ugh. This won’t be one of those Oprah-esque or Dr Phil dramas, will it?” she asked. His eyes narrowed a fraction in a flash of annoyance, and it reminded her of the times she’d faced her father.

  “Nothing so pedantic,” he answered. “Or childish. He used my mother, and I was the result.”

  “He used a lot of people, so don’t take it personally.”

  “Oh, but I do. I take it very personally, especially when he dragged me away in the middle of the night, put me on a plane and then abandoned me on this side of the world, dumping me with complete strangers. Tell me how I’m not supposed to take it personally. And you. My sweet little half-sister, daddy’s little girl. When he took me away from the only home I’d known, he made it clear I didn’t belong in his perfect little family unit. So I ask you again, how could I not take it personally?”

  “You’re proving to be a sociopath, he obviously recognised it in you.”

  Whatever reaction she thought she’d invoke, genuine laughter wasn’t it. His deep laugh reminded her of her father.

  “Oh, little sis, you’ll find sociopath is a family trait, and one we both share.” He let the file he’d been holding under his arm drop onto the metal table beside her, its weight creating a heavy thud, and he smiled to himself as her features hardened at seeing her name on the cover. Her features matched the image of Lee he held in his mind. “But you learned at the foot of the Master, when I could only learn from afar. Compared to that,” he indicated the file, “I can only stand in your shadow.”

  He had to admit, he admired how quickly she recovered her composure.

  “And how do you propose substantiating this ridiculous claim?” she asked, annoyed when he smiled again.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” he answered, and h
eld his hand out towards another man in the room, taking the long slender cardboard box from him. It was a DNA cheek swab, which he used, securing it back in its packaging before placing it on top of her file.

  “I knew you wouldn’t take my word for it, and your logical little brain wouldn’t just accept the familial similarities, so you can do your own tests. You’ll find it’s conclusive.” She found he had the same intense stare her father had whenever she was in trouble and on the receiving end of a telling off.

  “Then what?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If, and I stress if this test is as conclusive as you claim, then what? Do we have a big party, announce it in the social columns? Do I apply to join the Dark Side of the Force?”

  “That’s up to you,” he answered, remaining calm and poised. “Though you’ll enjoy working on this side of the Rebel Alliance, and we both know you can’t colour inside the lines, or abide by the rules.”

  “Except I’d have to abide by yours.”

  “Who says I have any?” He turned to the other man again. “Give her a small dose, just to begin with.”

  “A dose of what?” she demanded.

  “I know everything about you, Leigh. The best investigators in the world found out everything they could and compiled that file, so I know about your… lifestyle choices. I have to admit, it surprised me you took after our father so much. Oh. You didn’t know?” he said at her fleeting look of surprise. “If he was alive today, he’d have been kicked out of whatever government agency he was working for because of his drug use. It was only recreational, but still. Maybe I was better not having him as a direct influence.” She saw the syringe and struggled against the chair and her restraints.

  “Don’t do this, please,” she pleaded.

  “How long have you been clean?” Nathan asked. “Best part of a decade? That’s impressive, that level of restraint, but they say once an addict, always an addict. And it’s the good stuff, Ketamine. Let it take effect, then drop her back to her apartment,” he said to the syringe holder.

  “You’re letting me go?” she demanded.

  “I see no point in keeping you here.”

  “But you won’t do the honours and release me yourself?”

  He laughed, in another similarity to Lee.

  “I’m not that stupid, Leigh.”

  The needle pinched going in, but it didn’t take long for the new drug to hit her, bringing with it a sense of calmness, numbness, unlike a hit of cocaine. They threw her into a taxi, but she changed the address given to the driver, giving him Jake’s apartment instead. She took her heels off, finding the four-inch stilettos a health hazard in this state, but liked this new drug, liking the numbing sensation. It made her sleepy and it felt like floating, with no sense of direction.

  Jake’s face loomed over her as she struggled to open her eyes.

  “Are you high?” he asked, checking her eyes, and she struggled to remember what he just said.

  “What?” She tried to sit upright, but found she already was. Jake knelt in front of her.

  “Tell me what happened after you left with Rainey,” he asked, a hardness in his tone.

  “I left with him?”

  “And why do you have a DNA swab?” he held it up to her.

  “What?” was all she could manage again.

  “What did you take?” he asked. She shook her head, or tried to.

  “I… didn’t,” she answered, puzzled when he wasn’t convinced.

  “You’re staying here tonight.” She managed a grin, but her head lolled to the side and he pulled her forward, onto his shoulder and carried her into the bedroom, dumping her onto the bed. That she didn’t struggle against being carried, didn’t straighten herself on the bed, just lay where she landed, worried him. He checked her arms, and found the puncture wound, but found irritations around her wrists, as though she’d fought against something. He peeled her dress off, and manoeuvred her under the covers, slipping in beside her and holding her close.

  She never stirred, though by morning her sleep seemed more natural, her breathing back to normal. He wanted answers from her, but an early morning appointment with Swayne forced him to leave her, so he cuffed her left wrist and locked the other cuff to the metal frame of the bed’s headboard. He knew she’d make him pay for it later, when he released her. Being restrained for corporal punishment was one thing, this had nothing to do with pleasure, and he knew Leigh hated confinement of any kind.

  She’d confided in him on how Jürgen used bondage to help her overcome her teenage drug addiction. It was a promise she’d made him, to go to him, submit to him every time a craving hit. He’d restrain her, then reward her with pleasurable torture. If she gave into the drugs, he’d still restrain her, but the punishments were even more torturous, and in no way pleasurable. After all these years, she still fought against restraints of any kind, even when it involved pleasure.

  Returning to his apartment, he spotted the cuffs on the breakfast counter and found the note beneath it with the words ‘Nice try’ in her sprawling hand, and he chuckled to himself. Further along the countertop sat two DNA swab boxes, another note beneath them asking him to ‘do his thing’ and get them tested and compared. She must’ve found his evidence collecting kit and used it. She’d written her name on one, so he checked the second one, and again in her handwriting, saw Nathan’s name. A knot tightened in his stomach as he tried to work out the connection.

  CHAPTER 24

  Donal Brennan wanted to ask her about Swayne’s fundraiser, and found the invitation on her desk. That left him with the question of why Swayne sent it, knowing Leigh’s particular skill set, and the underlying reason for her to be in the States. It left him with a bitter taste in his mouth, thinking one of his agents was compromised.

  That she’d arrived in late and dishevelled made him wonder if she’d gotten lucky at said party, and found herself a companion for the night, although other reports he’d received back said she’d reconnected with the American guy, Mann.

  A small, rectangular box delivered to the Embassy for Leigh, gave Donal an excuse to drop in on her as she worked.

  “A good night?” he asked, handing the box to her.

  “You know how boring these political shindigs are; nothing but drink, drugs and sex,” she answered, but without her usual sarcastic tone.

  “Yeah, those parties get tiring. Anything interesting happen?” he asked, and she grew cagey.

  “Like what?”

  “You were the one who was there, you tell me.”

  “I… didn’t stay long, I didn’t feel well.”

  “See anyone interesting?”

  “Rainey was there, and a few of the high-flyers we entertained the other night, but other than that, most seemed to be grassroots business people. I wasn’t given the guided tour and introduced, but…” she trailed off.

  “But?” he pushed.

  “It felt like a set up. Not the reason for the party, that was real and the Senator did her thing, selling her programmes, but me, being there.”

  “Why? By whom?”

  She shrugged and shook her head.

  “Anything to do with that little gift box?” he hinted at the box she’d put aside after she read the accompanying card. “An admirer from last night?”

  “It’s from Rainey,” she told him.

  “You going to open it?”

  “No,” her tone was firm, with a hint of anger.

  “Did he… do something? Come onto you?”

  “Yes, but not in that way. He wants me to work for him.”

  Donal moved back from her desk and sat in the nearest chair, making himself comfortable.

  “Interesting. It could be a way into his organisation, find out what he’s up to. I’m sure the Americans are eager to get someone on the inside of his corporation.”

  “If I changed my mind and said yes to him now, it could raise suspicions. Besides, I’m waiting to get back… information on him.”
<
br />   “What information?”

  “I’ll know that when I get it,” she answered.

  “And progress on your other stuff? On the Gouderhoff thing?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  “Were the files helpful?”

  “Not much, but I haven’t gotten through them all yet.”

  “Well, if I can help in any way with them let me know. And if you’re up for data-mining, the CTI team think they’ve uncovered something on McGinty and Bradford, but need help to dig deeper, and no one does information archaeology like you do.”

  She smirked at the obvious ego stroking by him.

  “Yeah, sure, send it on, I’ll see what I can find. Don’t forget, we’re scheduled for the system upgrades later today.”

  “I hadn’t forgotten, and it should keep you out of trouble, even if it’s only for a short while.” She chuckled. “Right so,” he added, getting out of the chair. “Keep me posted on whatever you find on… well, anything.”

  When he left, she opened the slender box Rainey sent, finding a 100ml vial of Ketamine. The note said: ‘Have fun, little sis’ and she didn’t want to open the box in front of Donal. It would only have raised more questions from him, ones she didn’t want to answer right now. She also didn’t want to be subjected to a mandatory drugs test, finding out from a quick internet search just how long this crap stayed in her system.

  She sent a quick text to Jake, a humble and sincere thanks for taking care of her when she was out of it. Not that she remembered it, another documented side effect, but she was still alive, even if she had found herself handcuffed to Jake’s bed when she woke. At least it wasn’t a prison cell. Now this ‘gift’ from the man claiming to be her sibling. In her gut she knew it was more than an idle claim, and like her, her dad was an only child. There was no one from his immediate family on which to blame Rainey’s likeness.

  The system updates kept her busy for the rest of the day, extending late into the evening, and she missed several calls and messages from Jake. She phoned him back around midnight, only to find he’d given up on hearing from her and was in bed.