Ghostwalker 05 - Deadly Game

you."

    "I'm here to give you whatever you need," she said, forcing a cheerful tone. Her stomach knotted up at the thought of what was coming. She didn't look at Sean. He knew her well enough to know she detested the poking and prodding. Whitney even tried to extract memories. Everything, no matter how humiliating or private, was recorded.
    She took the gown the doctor gave her and changed in the small alcove, counting in her head to control shivering. Ken, where are you? If she ever needed another human being to get her through something, now was the time. She didn't want them to give her a morning-after pill. She didn't want them touching her body or deciding she needed more shots or another tracking device.
    She detested the lack of control, how vulnerable she felt when she was strapped down helplessly and the doctors were able to do whatever Whitney decided was her fate. Most of all she detested the sneaky, very personal way Prauder touched her when he was pretending to be impersonal. Whitney often came for the exams. He stood on the other side of the glass with that terrible little half smile staring at her as if she were a frog he was dissecting.
    How far away were the Nortons and their team? Had they lost track of her? Had Sean managed to throw them off and now she was trapped here alone? And what if she was pregnant? Whitney would take her baby and she'd never see it – not if he knew it was Ken Norton's. He'd looked too pleased, and it was rare for Whitney to be pleased.
    "You ready, Mari?" Sean asked.
    "In a minute." She folded the shirt carefully, running her hand over the material in a small caress. It was stupid and girlie and made her want to choke, but she couldn't stop herself. They're going to examine me. Do you know what that entails? And while they examine me, they have a guard standing right there, watching the entire thing. And a camera records it and Whitney stands outside the glass staring in at me.
    There was no reason to tell him. She was stoic about it – well, usually stoic about it.
    Sometimes she fought and the guards ended up with broken bones and black eyes, and then they sedated her. She suppressed another shiver and held the shirt to her face, inhaling Ken's scent, hoping to keep it with her through the coming ordeal.
    "What the hell is taking so long?" Sean demanded.
    "I was shot, you moron. My leg was broken. Although it's mostly healed, it's still sore, so I'm being a little wimpy taking the jeans off. Do you have a date? Am I holding you up from some important appointment, because honestly, Sean, I don't mind if you want to postpone this little event."
    Sean muttered an obscenity she pretended not to catch. She took a deep breath and let it out before stepping out of the jeans. Just once, one time in her life, she wanted support. It was stupid. Her entire education was about self-reliance and discipline. It was about facing pain and the impossible task and completing the mission no matter what the personal cost might be.
    She'd had a small taste of freedom, ironically as a prisoner, and it was much more difficult to face the starkness of her life. Reluctantly, Mari placed Ken's shirt on the chair and wrapped herself in the gown.
    She made a face at Sean as she climbed onto the table. She hated this. Hated it. Whitney knew it too. She'd tried various ways to distract herself over the years, pleaded for music, tried a running dialogue – nothing worked. She was the insect, pinned to the table, strapped down and stripped naked, to be examined and dissected just like the frogs and other animals and reptiles in biology classes.
    The light clicked on, bright and hot and shining over her body. They were going to see every mark Ken had left behind. They would photograph and record and turn her one beautiful memory into something ugly and depraved.
    She sat up before the doctor could strap her down. "I can't do this right now. I'm sorry, Sean, I can't."
    "Don't go crazy on me, Mari," Sean said, holding up his hand.
    The doctor backed away from her, glancing toward the glass. She followed his gaze to see Whitney standing there watching with his dead eyes.
    Mari slid off the table and went to the window. "I can't. I can't do this right now. I can't tell you why, I don't know why; I just can't make myself do it."
    "I'm extremely disappointed in you, Mari," Whitney said through the intercom. "You left this facility without permission and I didn't even punish you. This examination is