Zodius Series Box Set (Books 1-4) (The Zodius Series Book 5)

by Lisa Renee Jones

  She drew a shaky breath and let it out, that full bottom lip of hers that he so flipping adored, quivering. “Yeah, well, I can’t trust you either,” she said, clearly assuming that was what he meant.

  “But you want to.”

  Reluctantly, she admitted, “Yes, I want to.”

  He arched a brow. “And?”

  Confusion touched her. “And what?”

  “And you want me.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You want me to say I want you?”

  He nodded. “That’s right. I admitted I want you. We might not have trust, but we might as well be honest with each other.”

  She shook her head as if clearing cobwebs. “You do realize that statement made absolutely no sense. Trust and honesty are the same. And based on that reality, I could say I want you and be lying.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “So humor me. Say it.” He didn’t know why he wanted to hear it so badly. He saw it in her eyes, and he’d tasted it in her kisses.

  “Okay then,” she said. “Yes. I want you.”

  His lips lifted in a smile at her confession. He had no idea why making her admit that out loud meant so much to him, why he’d burned for it so badly, but he had, and he did, and he liked it a lot. One hell of a lot.

  She shook her head. “I could be lying.”

  His smile widened. “But we both know you aren’t.”

  Adam and Dorian materialized in two silent strands of wind inside the parking garage where Tad awaited their arrival.

  “Well?” Adam demanded of Tad. “Where is she?”

  “Her tracking device was removed,” he said. “But she couldn’t have gotten too far. We have men all over the garage looking for her.”

  Adam leveled Tad in a stare. “This happened how?”

  “We had her at the motel,” Tad assured him. “But your brother showed up. He put himself in the line of fire to protect the woman, knowing we would not kill him.”

  Dorian tilted his head to the side. “My uncle is very strategic, isn’t he, Father?”

  “He is,” Adam agree. “A talent we will appreciate more when he has joined our cause.”

  “I wish to meet him,” Dorian said.

  “You will,” Adam assured him. “Just as the world will soon meet you.”

  Dorian tilted his head, staring into space a moment. “The woman is no longer in the garage,” he said, clearly using his ability to read the recent events that had occurred within an energy source.

  “Can you find her, Dorian?” Adam asked, never underestimating his son. Though the woman had not been marked with a psychic imprint that a Tracker would need to follow a target, his son was far more advanced.

  Dorian stared blankly into space as he often did when accessing new skills. “No,” he finally said. “But they removed the tracking device here in this garage. It left a certain energy residue.” He tilted his head again. “Interesting. I can reach the part of her mind that feels pain, Father. Would you like me to make her feel pain for betraying you?”

  “You can make her feel pain from a distance?”

  “Yes,” he said. “But it must be from this location, where that energy is strongest.”

  Adam was pleased. “Could you cause her enough pain to kill her?”

  A slow smile slid onto Dorian’s lips. “I do believe I would enjoy trying.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Becca followed Sterling into what looked to be a typical sterile, well-equipped lab. She scanned the room—several tables, microscopes, and the appropriate high-tech machinery.

  She cut Sterling a sideways look, intent on asking him a question that she’d completely forgotten. He was leaning lazily on the doorjamb, his T-shirt torn from where he’d made her bandage, rippling abdominals exposed. Her mouth watered as she thought of touching all that taut hard muscle, and she dragged her gaze from the deliciously tempting sight to find him watching her, heat in his eyes. As if he knew what she was thinking.

  She watched him too, unwilling to shy away. She’d had a few lessons lately on embracing life while she had it, and she wasn’t going to waste it being embarrassed. And Sterling was just plain hot—indeed, she thought once again—a man her fantasies were made of. Tall and blond, hard in all the right places, he was a stud muffin like she’d never seen the likes of. She did want him. What woman in her right mind would not?

  That he wanted her only made her hotter. That he didn’t take her when he knew darn well she couldn’t resist him…that only made her want him more. His concern about creating a psychic imprint built trust, no matter how much she hated the restriction—if a girl had to die, let her die in pleasure.

  Becca delicately cleared her throat. “I assume you evacuated any staff for fear I might cause them injury?”

  “We don’t keep a scientific staff here anyway,” he said, neither denying nor confirming her accusation.

  “Point for you for being good at avoiding questions,” she said, making sure he knew she wasn’t accepting that answer.

  Becca moved to stand beside a cabinet of supplies and removed two items she needed to draw her own blood. “I assume your people want my blood.” She sat down on a stool. “So do I. How about drawing it for me? I can do it, but I’ve never been fond of sticking myself.”

  “What makes you think I know how?”

  She laughed. “Aside from the exceptional T-shirt tourniquet you made? I know the GTECHs are all ex-Special Forces. That means trained medics. Not to mention you sliced my arm up like a pro.”

  He pushed off the door and sauntered to stand in front of her. Her gaze slid over those long legs hugged by snug denim, but not before she grabbed one more inspection of those abs.

  “What I did to your arm had nothing to do with medic training and everything to do with necessity,” Sterling said, reaching for the needle and syringe. “I had to get that device out of your arm before the Zs found us.”

  “Zs?” she asked. “Right. Got it. Zs are the Zodius.” She wrapped a rubber band around her upper arm. The good one. “As for my arm, as painful as slicing it open was, I’m glad you did it. You were protecting me. So far, if I have to be a prisoner—I’d rather be one here.”

  He stilled, the syringe midway to her arm, his gaze snagging hers. “We don’t want to keep you a prisoner, Becca,” he said, standing close. So close. Too close. Not close enough. “It’s about keeping everyone safe, you included.”

  “I know.” She studied him—the square jaw, high cheekbones, full lips. He was a beautiful man. Before she could stop herself, she reached up and touched his cheek. He didn’t move, but she could feel the instant awareness in him, see the darkening of his pupils, feel the heat radiate off his body. But he didn’t move, didn’t reach for her, or stop her.

  She allowed her fingers to glide over the stubble forming on his jaw, her gaze following the movement, amazed at how sensual the contrast between her softness and the roughness of those whiskers aroused her. Someone had once told her that when you tasted death, life found new texture. Perhaps it was true.

  She swallowed hard. Death. It always had a way of shaking her right back into reality. Becca pulled her hand back and forced herself to remember what they’d been talking about. She was a prisoner. And he was her captor but claimed he didn’t want to be. He had no choice. She got that. Really she even understood it.

  “You don’t have a choice but to keep me prisoner,” she said. “I put everyone to sleep, and even if I didn’t, Adam is coming for me. So either way, I’m confined. I get that.” She held out her arm for the blood draw. “Let’s get this over with. I’m ready to have at least an hour or two without needles and knives. Draw five vials,” she told him. “But I get three. Your people can have two. And before you argue, it’s my blood. I decide.”

  He hesitated an instant, as if he wanted to say more, but then didn’t. He did what she’d said and drew her blood. Becca rather liked ordering Sterling around and having him actually
comply. That he did—well—that was another point for trust. No one inside Zodius would have let her order them around. “My people can be your people too,” he said, finishing the task, and then pressed a piece of cotton on her arm. He folded it at the elbow and held it there.

  “I need to know the Renegades are really who you say they are before that can happen,” she said. “I need proof.” He stared at her, his eyes piercing hers, delving so deeply she felt they were touching her soul. All the while his thumb stroked a lazy pattern over her wrist. Warmth spread across her skin, up her arm, over her neck.

  “You’ll get your proof,” he said finally, as if whatever he was looking for in that inspection he’d found. “Let me check out my handiwork.” He shifted his attention to her shoulder. “See if I need to throw a couple stitches in that arm for you.”

  “You don’t,” she assured him, but let him unwrap her arm and study the wound. “It’s almost healed, and the pain is all but gone. It must not have been as deep as it felt.”

  He tossed the T-shirt in the trash, and she glanced at her arm, confirming the wound had already begun to close.

  “If ICE heals you this quickly,” he said thoughtfully, “then surely Adam was right when he said ICE would cure your cancer.”

  Adam had told her the same thing, but she’d not dared to really believe it. She wet her suddenly dry lips and cursed the hope that flared inside her. She didn’t want another crushing blow, like the failure in Germany. “It doesn’t really matter unless we find an antidote for withdrawal. Until then, I’m dead when we run out of ICE.”

  He reached for her, and she held up a hand. “Don’t. Don’t feel sorry for me. God, please don’t feel sorry for me.” She laughed without humor. “That’s exactly everything I don’t want from you or anyone else.”

  He stared at her, his gaze probing, seeing too much. “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore. You have me. And you have the Renegades, who are my family, who can be yours.”

  Not family. The people obligated to care for her, like the families at the cancer treatment center. The idea of that just destroyed her. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Becca,” he said softly, trying to reach for her again.

  She scooted off the lab stool and backed away from him, thankful he didn’t pursue, yet upset that he didn’t. “We need to find a common denominator in the ICE deaths. A variation in the ICE formula. A blood type. Sickle cell. Arthritis. It could be anything. It could be they are all smokers. Or they’re diabetic. I need to run tests, and I need the records you have so I can get to work. Bodies would be better.”

  “We have the records and—” He motioned to the sink in the corner when she surveyed the blood staining her skin, remnants of the earlier incident with the tracking device. “You can clean up your arm there and bandage it.”

  “Thanks,” she said and headed in that direction.

  He kept talking behind her as she washed up. “We’ve tried to get the bodies, but the government won’t give them to us.”

  Becca dried her arm and then grabbed a lab coat hanging on a coatrack, eager to get to work. “I don’t understand. Why give you the records and not the bodies?”

  “They have their scientists working on the issue. We have ours. We get what they deem relevant.” He walked to a desk and powered up a laptop. “As I said, we have a tenuous relationship with them at best. We all want Adam to be brought to justice and humanity to be safe. Unfortunately, the government believes safety means all GTECHs, us included, have to be controlled or eradicated. And since they’ve tried control and it didn’t work, they’re leaning toward eradication.”

  She shook her head. “Powell really created a mess with the GTECH program, didn’t he?”

  “Welcome to a little slice of my life.” He motioned to the computer. “Let’s get you online with our scientific team.”

  Becca closed the distance between them as he dialed the phone and set up the teleconference. Not long after, he offered her the chair in front of the desk and pulled another up to sit beside her. His finger hovered over a computer key.

  “Ready to meet your new co-workers?”

  She nodded, surprised at how ready she really was. For the first time since she’d found out about Adam and his evil plans, she might just have a chance to do something about it. To stop him.

  Sterling punched a key. A pretty blonde woman appeared on the screen wearing a lab coat, her hair pulled back in a conservative knot.

  “Becca,” Sterling said, a hand motioning to the screen. “Meet Kelly Patterson, director of science and medicine for the Renegades, and a royal pain in my ass. Nevertheless, damn good at what she does.”

  “The only ass is Sterling,” Kelly retorted, but there was no mistaking the tease in her voice. “But I’m sure you’re figuring that out by now.”

  Becca barely contained a smile as she noted Sterling’s grimace followed by a low grumble.

  “Am I late?” came another female voice a second before yet another pretty blonde appeared on the screen. Her hair floated in silky strands around her shoulders as she murmured something to Kelly.

  Sterling leaned closer to Becca. “That’s Cassandra,” he said, his voice low, for her ears only. “She’s the Lifebond of Michael. The king of dark and cranky.”

  “I heard that, Sterling,” Cassandra said, pursing her lips at the camera. “Don’t be an asshole. Michael isn’t cranky. He’s protective and cautious. He’s also your friend. And he’s waiting for you in the east wing of Neon with some of Becca’s personal items.”

  Amazingly, Becca found herself laughing at Sterling’s exchanges with Cassandra, and it felt good. These people were friends who knew and loved each other, nothing like the stiff, cold existences inside Zodius. And the lead scientific director was a woman. Another something Adam would never have allowed.

  Cassandra eyed Becca. “I wanted to let you to know that I went inside your house to pick up your things. I felt a bit like an intruder, but I tried to make up for it by picking out the things that seemed the most important to you.”

  Even though Sterling had told her he was having some of her things picked up, she’d never written out her list. “Thank you,” Becca said quickly. “I don’t mind at all. I can’t wait to have some of my own things.”

  “Anything I can do for you,” Cassandra said. “I’m here. I’ll leave you to Kelly for now.”

  Sterling grabbed the tubes of blood and touched the small of her back. A gesture that spoke of a growing intimacy between them, that felt, well, right. It felt good. Confusing, but good. “I’ll do the same,” he said, before holding up the vials to the camera. “Michael will have Becca’s blood samples to bring back with him.” He eyed Becca. “Back in a bit.”

  He waited for her acknowledgement, protective, as if he didn’t want to leave unless she said she’d be okay. It felt as nice as that hand on her back. Wonderful, in fact, and she dared to indulge in enjoying the feeling, if only this once. She didn’t remember the last time anyone had protected her, not since she’d lost her father and brother over a decade before. She nodded. “I’ll be here.” And for the first time in a long time, Becca realized she felt safe.

  Sometime later Becca found herself in deep conversation with Kelly, during which Kelly not only shared the history of the Renegades, she set up a secure email and sent Becca proof the Renegades were working for the government. Finally satisfied she was playing on the right team and liking Kelly quite a lot, it was time for Becca to vocalize her theories and how she thought she could help in the lab.

  “I’m going to email you some data on the GTECHs,” Kelly said. “You can compare them to the ICE users. Some of the Zodius soldiers have what we call the X2 gene. It developed around fifteen months after conversion, and to put this in perspective, the lab rats that developed X2 all killed each other.” She held up a hand. “And let me assure you Sterling doesn’t have the X2 gene. None of the Renegades do…well�
��except Michael, but he’s different in all kinds of ways. I’ll send you his file as well. But please don’t tell him. He won’t like it.”

  This was not good news to Becca. “My biggest fear has been what happens with long term use, rather than the few who have died in the midst of thousands. Not that I’m dismissing that problem, but we’re dealing with an alien component, and we have no idea how it will react or evolve in our environment.”

  “Believe me, I know,” Kelly said. “Which brings us to the question I’ve been beating my head against the wall about. How do we keep that from happening? The ticking clock on that question is killing me.” She visibly cringed. “Oh God, Becca. I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. You know, I’m pretty excited about what I see in your blood work. I don’t know if Sterling told you my thoughts on this, but if you really are cured then think what this could mean for cancer research when all of this is over.”

  Becca absorbed that and found herself smiling inside, thinking of all the times she’d dared to ask, “Why me?” She realized it might just come back to here and now. She might be able to help people beyond just the immediate trouble with Adam. Even Adam, in an unintentional way, might be helping cancer patients. She opened her mouth to say as much, when a loud screeching sound ripped through her ears.

  Becca grabbed her head. “Oh God! What is that? Make it stop!”

  “Becca,” Kelly said. “I don’t hear anything. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “How can you not hear it?” Becca screamed. The sound ripped through her, seemed to carve out her insides, and rip a path along her nerve endings.

  “Caleb!” Kelly shouted. “Caleb, help! Get Sterling back into that room!” Then, “Hang in there, Becca. Sterling is coming. He’ll be right there.”

  Becca fell to the ground. “It’s too late,” she whispered. Death had her attention again. It kept calling her name. And death, she realized, as she felt him in her mind, was named Dorian.