Kylie Brant - Undercover Bride

His countenance was stiff, and he focused on a point over her head. “Yes, ma’am.”

She started down the hall, and he fell in after her. She wondered what he’d do if she stopped suddenly. Probably plow right into her. Clearly he had taken Sutherland’s chastising to heart. She wouldn’t dislodge him as easily today.

Rachel gave a mental shrug. The young man would be of no concern for a while. She was going to spend the next day or two familiarizing herself with the compound. After the conversation she had with Carpenter last night, she’d felt secure in doing so.

The omelet she had for breakfast was delicious, although she found it somewhat difficult to swallow with her guardian angel hovering nearby. Since the soldier didn’t seem prone to initiating conversation, she tried to engage him. “If we’re going to spend our days together, I think I should at least know your name.”

He hesitated for a moment, before replying, “It’s Private Sallem, ma’am.”

“And I’m Rachel.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She gave a mental sigh. “And what’s your first name?”

He gave the question more consideration than it merited, before finally deciding it was harmless. “Raymond.”

“Excellent.” She smiled at him. He couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty. What could have led someone his age to the hate-filled world of The Brotherhood? Had he been raised in prejudice, as she had, or had he chosen it for himself? She found herself curious. “Do you have family in the compound, Raymond?”

“No, ma’am.”

Her appetite satisfied, she rose from the table and walked from the dining room. “Where are you from?”

“Missouri, ma’am.”

The hallway was lined with artwork she hadn’t had an opportunity to study last night. She paused before each painting and sculpture. The selections could provide more details about Carpenter. Or they may only reveal a man used to surrounding himself with expensive beautiful things. The thought that he probably considered her presence here in the same light nearly made her cringe.

“Missouri is a long way from Idaho. How often do you make it back to visit your family?”

Although she wasn’t looking at him, she could hear him shuffle his feet. “I don’t have any family, ma’am. My mom died a couple of years ago. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

Which might explain the attraction of the militia group, or others like it. If Raymond had sought out the group in search of a surrogate family, he couldn’t have chosen less wisely.

Ironically, she felt the first stirrings of sympathy for the soldier. Surely in one so young it could not be impossible to show him the error in his thinking. As quickly as the thought occurred to her, she dismissed it. She’d faced down automatic weapons carried by far younger kids than Raymond. Disillusionment with the status quo seemed to be the lowest common human denominator. And she’d never been in the business of rehabilitation, at any rate.

She slipped on a pair of sunglasses she’d carried downstairs with her and led her young shadow outside and down the front steps. Her first destination was the garden she and Caleb had lingered in last evening. The place where he’d uttered that cryptic statement that had said everything, and nothing, about the trespassing Hispanics. Under the pretense of strolling through the grounds, she took her time studying the confines of the compound, at least what she could see of it from there.

The drive leading to the road in front of the house was at least a mile. Gates stretched across the entrance, connected to what she imagined was an electric fence line. Although she could see activity there, she was unable to make out the number of men patrolling from this distance. She made a mental note to investigate it later.

It wasn’t necessary to feign fascination with the magnificent display of color before her. Although Rachel had no claim to a green thumb, she could appreciate the efforts of those who did. The garden was a fitting addition to the nearby mansion, and for the man who seemed used to the best of everything.

With seeming aimlessness, she exited the garden and began strolling toward the buildings, ignoring the young man at her side. But when they were within a hundred yards of the training facility, Raymond broke the silence. “Ma’am? You’ll probably want to head back up toward the house. These buildings are used during the day for training operations.”

“Perfect.” She graced him with a bright smile. “I was telling General Carpenter last night how much I was missing my daily workouts, and he invited me to use the gymnasium facility. Is this it?”

“Yes, this is it, but I don’t think the colonel would…that is…” His words trailed off when she whipped off her glasses to stare at him.

“The colonel?”

Raymond was clearly uncomfortable. “I—I mean the general. He probably wouldn’t like it.”

“But I’ve just told you that he okayed it, didn’t I? So I don’t foresee any problem.”

Turning on her heel she strode to the entrance and pushed the door open. Carpenter hadn’t been exaggerating, she discovered. The building was fully outfitted with top-of-the-line equipment. No expense had been spared training the men and women of The Brotherhood how to fight for the dogma they were dedicated to.

Despite the use for which it was intended, she had a grudging admiration for the equipment itself. She’d never worked out in such a well-maintained gymnasium outside of the agency’s training facility.

She walked about the place, openly watching the drills going on in some of the rooms. And when she found a gymnasium empty, she lost no time entering. It was too much temptation to merely look at the various stations. Soon she was slipping out of her shoes and hoisting herself up on the balance beam to run lightly across it and back several times. Then spying an electronic sparring machine in the corner, she went to examine it. She was only peripherally aware of the moment when Raymond slipped away, probably to report to Sutherland.

“I see you’re interested in our machine. Do you train?”

Rachel whirled around to see a red-haired woman about her age crossing the gym toward her. She was dressed in the customary black fatigues.

“I do, but I rarely have the opportunity to use equipment like this. You’re very lucky. I’m Rachel, by the way.”

“My name is Kathy.” The woman surveyed her curiously. “I hope you fare better than the last two applicants. General Carpenter takes his responsibility to The Brotherhood very seriously, and his standards are quite high.”

There didn’t seem to be an appropriate answer for that statement, so Rachel didn’t offer one. “The general invited me to use the facilities and I’m going to take him up on it. Is this gymnasium going to be free for the next hour or two?” As she spoke, she unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged out of it. Clad in a tank top and shorts, she sat to pull off her shoes. She always preferred to work out barefoot.

“There isn’t a session scheduled for this hall until this afternoon. I’ll be leading it myself.”

Rachel bent her knee and lunged forward to loosen up. “Oh, so you’re a trainer here.” She switched legs. “I was an instructor myself in the organization I came from.”

The woman looked pleased. “Really? Would you like a sparring partner? It’s not often that I can find a worthy match here.”

“Sure.” She welcomed the opportunity. It was imperative to stay in shape during the assignment. It was impossible to tell when she would be called on to defend herself.

After a warming up for a few minutes, the women stepped into the middle of a ring drawn on the mat. For the first few minutes they circled each other, feinting a few times, gauging the strength and agility of their opponents. Watching Kathy’s eyes, Rachel was able to estimate when her intent changed to something more serious, and easily dodged the first spin kick, dancing gracefully out of reach.