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

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Iceman ground his teeth. Now he knew why JC was so tense. They’d made the decision to infiltrate the resorts, to bring all staff on board for future distribution. They’d been cautious, starting one resort at a time. But the two Clanners from the warehouse were staff from Magnolia. Now the dealer.

  “He used Eclipse last night,” JC said. “It will be in his system.” He lowered his voice. “Every Clanner who has died has used ICE Eclipse rather than a straight shooter of ICE.”

  Not a positive development, but it could be managed. “Continue with our plan.”

  “Sooner or later law enforcement will figure out the Eclipse boost is causing the fatalities that have nothing to do with withdrawal,” JC said. “They’ll go public. They’ll tell people to stop using ICE or risk death.”

  “And we’ll tell our Eclipsers they’re safe,” he said, “that it’s the non-Eclipsers, the straight-up ICE users, who are dying.”

  “People are told drugs will kill them every day,” Sabrina added. “They keep using.”

  “There you go,” Iceman said. “Problem solved. Anything else?”

  “Sterling showed up while the paramedics were at Magnolia,” JC said. “With Rebecca Burns. They left in the EMS vehicle, and my sources tell me that body never made it to the hospital. She’s helping the Renegades.”

  “Sterling has a stock of ICE,” he said. “I’m sure of it. So she’s helping her newest ICE supplier. I need that to become me.”

  “You mean Adam,” came a male voice a second before Tad slid into the seat next to JC. “He wants Rebecca Burns, and what Adam wants he gets. You cross Adam—you die.”

  Iceman schooled his features to an unaffected mask, silently reeling. What the hell? Where had he come from? There was no wind here. They were half a mile deep inside a casino resort. He knew damn well he’d seen everyone who’d come and gone since he’d arrived. Not to mention that Tad had slipped past the front door in leather pants and a leather jacket in a mandatory suit-and-tie establishment.

  Tad eyed Iceman, taunting amusement glinting in his eyes. “You think you’re irreplaceable, but you’re not.” He motioned to the seat beside him. “JC here knows the ropes, doesn’t he? Bet he’d like a few of those fancy sports cars you drive on Adam’s dime. Maybe you should buy him a couple. A good second-in-charge deserves to be looked after.”

  He reached for Iceman’s Scotch, saluted Sabrina with a hefty dose of lust in his black eyes, and then downed it. “That is good stuff.” It wasn’t clear if he meant the Scotch or the woman. He glanced at Iceman. “Hard to believe you came from a longneck-beer kind of family.” A challenge glistened in his eyes. He crossed his arms in front of him. “Now. Let’s start planning a way to lure Rebecca Burns out into the open, so we can capture her. If she showed up when an ICE junkie died, then we need to kill another one and make it look like the other deaths.” He barked a bit of dry laughter, followed by a lame attempt at a sick joke. “If we kill one, she will come.”

  Iceman stared at Tad, hatred burning acid in his gut. No one made Iceman look a fool without paying the price. Tad would soon learn that price was painful.

  Becca tossed her pencil down on the lab table and pressed her fingers to her eyes. It had been hours since the Clanner had died in the back of that EMS truck, and the body had since been taken to Sunrise City for full scientific review, which was fine by Becca. Dead bodies were not her thing. She was an astrobiologist, not a coroner—an astrobiologist who was tired, hungry, and frustrated, wishing Sterling would return.

  He’d been in a meeting with Caleb and some of the other Renegades for a while now, trying to decide what to do about Dorian. Considering her lack of progress, she hoped he was coming up with answers.

  Dropping her hand from her face, Becca ran her palms down her legs and glanced at the clock on the computer. Good Lord. She really had lost track of time. Was it really two in the morning? No wonder she was tired. Unfortunately, the need for sleep caught up with even an ICE user, just not as quickly.

  The buzzer on the computer beeped, signaling Kelly was hailing her. Becca hit a computer key, and the teleprompter came to life. Kelly’s image filled the screen, her light blonde hair piled on top of her head, dark circles hovering around her eyes. Becca didn’t doubt she herself looked just as exhausted.

  They were both swimming in a sea of a million possible answers with a ticking clock pressuring them to find the right one. And thus they had decided to divide and conquer, and then compare notes every few hours. Kelly and her team were working on how to save the current ICE users, while Becca had found herself sidetracked by the idea of an immunization against ICE to block its absorption. “Please tell me you’ve had better luck than I have,” Kelly said with a heavy sigh.

  “I wouldn’t call it luck,” Becca said. “But I’ve been thinking through some of my experiences at NASA. When dealing with extraterrestrial microorganisms, you expect the unexpected. We operate under the premise that there are microscopic life forms we don’t even recognize, because we don’t know how to measure their existence, which makes this problem seem complicated, but really, I’m not sure it is. What if it’s actually as simple as why we can’t live on an alien planet and why they don’t live on ours? So something we use every day could be the thing that creates an immunization or an antidote—something like oxygen, but not oxygen. A mineral. A vitamin. Since ICE is alien, we should look for an element that repels the DNA, and then maybe we could convert it for use. I’m going to review the GTECH information now and see if it gives me any insight.” They talked through that concept a few minutes, both encouraged by the possibilities, before Kelly said, “I’ve been thinking about how to deal with the current ICE users as well. I’m going to talk to Caleb about more aggressive measures. Bring a few of them in, and begin weaning them off ICE under medical supervision. It’s not the way I’d prefer to approach this, but it’s in the interest of saving lives. I’m going to talk to Caleb about it in the morning.” She glanced at her watch. “Okay. It’s already morning. We both need some sleep.”

  “You rest,” Becca said. “I’m fine. I want to work on this idea I have on the immunization while it’s fresh in my mind.”

  “There’s no possible way anything is fresh in your mind right now, Becca.”

  “I really need to keep working, Kelly,” she said. “I need to figure this out.”

  Kelly studied Becca a moment. “You mean, before it’s too late and you’re dead like that Clanner you watched die today. Isn’t that what you wanted to say?”

  “Yes,” Becca said, her throat suddenly tight with emotion. “We don’t know when that’s going to be, Kelly.”

  “I’ve seen your blood work,” Kelly said. “Several samples now. As long as you keep taking the ICE, you’ll be fine.”

  “Even if I had a never-ending supply of ICE, we can’t be sure what side effects it will have on its users. We don’t know how long I have until I’m no longer useful.”

  Kelly studied her a moment and then softly said, “Becca. It’s okay to want to live. To care about your own future.”

  That tightness in her throat from moments before settled hard in Becca’s chest. “It’s easier to think about everyone else’s future.” A truth that slipped out without her meaning it to.

  “Fair enough,” Kelly said after a short pause, her voice firmer now, taking on a hint of stubbornness. “We’ll worry about you, for you. I’m going to call Sterling and order him to feed you and put you to bed. End of story. Night, Becca.” The screen went blank.

  Almost instantly the door to the lab opened, and Sterling entered, looking as country-boy, hot-cowboy delicious as always, and with him a wave of spicy-smelling food that made her stomach rumble in demand.

  “I have a late night connection,” he said, holding up the bag as his cell phone rang. “I brought Chinese.”

  “It’s Kelly,” Becca said. “Telling you to feed me.” She left off the “take me to bed” part, despit
e it being as appealing as the food.

  He grinned. “Now who has psychic ability?” He snatched his phone and answered it. “I’m about to feed her and then,” he hesitated, before adding, “take her to bed.” Their eyes connected at that last statement, his rich with the promise that “to bed” meant his bed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Becca shrugged out of her lab coat and allowed Sterling to pull her toward the door.

  “Time for food, a hot bath, and bed,” he promised.

  “Hot bath?” Becca asked hopefully. “You have a tub here? Really?” It had been weeks since she’d had such a luxury.

  “I have a whole apartment here,” he said. “Nothing fancy. Not the apartment or the tub. But it’ll hold plenty of water and a pretty woman to boot.”

  Becca smiled at his not-so-subtle, country-boy charm. He was a gift in so many ways, just what she needed right now. He didn’t demand. He didn’t overwhelm. He didn’t try to be suave and debonair. There were no airs or niceties. He was who he was, and she loved that about him.

  “By the way,” she said, as he led her down a hallway that looked like any one of thousands, basic carpet with doors on either side. “Where’d you get Chinese food at two in the morning?”

  “I know the Chinese couple that owns the joint in the complex above. They hold a late-night kitchen poker game every Wednesday. If they’re winning, I can always talk them into cooking for me.”

  “And if you’re winning?” she asked as he stopped at the end of the hall and shoved open a door.

  “I never gamble. But I do enjoy the ritual of watching everyone else lose their backsides to Mr. Ling, who always wins. And no matter how many times the same people lose to him, they keep coming back for more. It’s worse than basic-training soldiers begging to be punished.”

  She walked past him, their eyes briefly touching, her stomach fluttering with awareness as she entered the foyer. “I find it hard to believe you don’t gamble.” She brought the apartment into view and found it very basic—a place to live, not a home—brown leather couch and chair, leather-covered coffee table with built-in ottoman. Not much more.

  “I’ll never so much as toss a dime in a casino’s direction,” he said, stepping inside and shutting the door, so close their shoulders brushed. Becca bit her bottom lip at the feel of him next to her. Had she ever wanted a man so badly?

  He motioned to a simple table to the right of the living area. “Like I said. Nothing fancy.” He set the bags on the table and walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He continued talking over the bar that divided the two areas. “Sunrise City is really home. These are temporary quarters I use as needed.”

  “Funny,” she said, sliding into a seat and removing the Styrofoam containers out of the bags. “I totally read you as a gambler.”

  Sauntering back to the table, he set a Coke on the table. “Got your favorite.” He sat down at the end of the table next to her and popped the top off his Dr. Pepper. “And old faithful for me.” He took a sip and responded to her comment. “I’m a risk taker, not a gambler. I can control when I take a risk. Gambling would control me. I want no part of that.”

  “I see,” she said. “You’re a control freak.”

  He grinned. “Nah. Control is an illusion. None of us really have it. We just trick ourselves into thinking we do.”

  Becca grabbed her Coke and popped the top, trying to hide her reaction. His words reached right inside her and twisted her in knots. No one knew better how true his statement was than a person who’d lived through a cancer diagnosis.

  She tilted the drink back and swallowed as he continued. “So I just go for it when I have to. Live or die, I let it all hang out.”

  Becca was seized by a sudden, gut-wrenching emotion, only it wasn’t hers.

  Her gaze jerked to his, her heart in her stomach. “You don’t have any family,” she said, certain it was true. “You don’t worry about living or dying because you think no one will care if you’re gone.”

  He arched a brow and stared at her, expression unchanged for several seconds before he opened the lid on one of the containers. Instantly, an alluring scent of simmering food teased her nostrils and made her stomach growl. “Spicy beef,” he said. “Extra soy sauce for the white rice.”

  “You’re not going to comment on—” She stopped midsentence. Did a double take at the food. “How did you know what I like? Surely I don’t have a file this detailed.”

  “So I was right then,” he said. “Huh. Strangest thing. I was standing there talking to Mr. Ling about what I should order for you, and somehow I just knew. Just like I know you love chocolate, but hate caramel. How you take two creamers and one Sweet’N Low in your coffee. And you could live on macaroni and cheese if there weren’t so many carbs.” He shut the food lid and sat back. “I have to tell you, Becca, I’ve never been much into analyzing food based on carb content—can’t think of one time in my life in fact. So I’m thinking this has to be me somehow getting inside your head and reading your thoughts.” He studied her. “Am I right on any of this?”

  Shocked, Becca nodded. “All of it.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be damned,” he said, his brows dipping. “Are you somehow linking our minds together now?”

  “Not that I know of,” she said. “And I could feel when we were connected before.” Intimately…almost erotically. “No. We aren’t connected now. Maybe this is all information you picked up when we were, and you’re remembering now…when certain triggers occur, like you ordering me food.”

  She studied him, dumbfounded by this new turn of events. No wonder it had felt so intimate when they’d merged minds. They’d somehow delved into each other’s personal lives, dug deep into each other’s core. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to know what was there inside her. The battles she’d fought with herself recently—the insecurities, the fears. It was easier to think about what she’d learned about him, his thoughts. “You don’t have any family.”

  He shrugged and then sipped his drink. “Like I said, the Renegades are my family.”

  She gave him a gentle glower. “You know what I mean. You never talked about your mother back in the library. I remember you lived with your grandmother and that your father was killed in combat. Do you have siblings?”

  “My mother died during childbirth. My grandmother died a few years back of a heart attack.”

  A sudden memory flashed through her mind. Sterling’s memory—of him jumping off a building onto a car. His last thought—he could die, but not before he freed the little boy being held hostage in that car and returned him to his parents. He wasn’t afraid of dying. She felt not one tiny iota of fear in him.

  She blinked away the image, thinking of the terror she’d felt over dying these past few months. “Don’t you ever feel afraid?” Her voice cracked. She wasn’t sure why, but there was emotion balled in her throat, tightening her windpipes.

  Suddenly, he was on one knee in front of her, turning her to face him. His hands settled on her knees. Strong. Warm. His eyes searched hers. “You know when I feel afraid? Every time I think something is going to happen to you. I had nightmares about what Adam was doing to you at Zodius.”

  “Because you blamed yourself,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault. You tried to save me. I knew that.”

  “No,” he said, rejecting that idea. “A soldier finds a place to put that stuff. We have to if we’re going to keep going. That’s not what this is with you, Becca, and it wasn’t from the moment I met you. So in answer to your question…again, yes. I feel fear.” His hand slid to her neck, callused fingers sending goose bumps down her spine. “You aren’t alone anymore. We’ll be afraid together.”

  Uncertainty rose inside her, along with one of the many fears her cancer had brought with it—the fear that had kept her from telling her mother about her diagnosis. She didn’t want to have someone taking care of her…draining the life out of those around her wh
ile she died.

  She tried to pull back. “No,” she said. “I don’t need you to do this. I don’t want you to make me feel better.”

  He kissed her, a light brush of his lips over hers, followed by a seductive sweep of his tongue against hers that seemed to touch her all over. “I don’t want to make you feel better,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “Better doesn’t begin to describe what I want to make you feel.” Again he kissed her, featherlight. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you, most definitely since I saw you walking up that sidewalk to your house.”

  As she had him. She remembered him standing there on her porch looking like sex and sin, recalling every pleasurable moment of her life she’d missed. She wanted to take what he was offering, to forget everything but him, to escape if only for a little while. But damn it, unlike in the lab earlier, she was now in her head, and in his for that matter, thinking instead of just feeling. She didn’t want to be selfish, to act without thinking about the aftermath.

  Sterling leaned in and brushed his mouth over hers again, his teeth nipping her bottom lip, tongue caressing. Becca moaned softly, unable to contain the sound despite her best efforts. Control was not her friend right now.

  Her hands settled on Sterling’s shoulders, the feeling of muscles flexing beneath her palms enticing her. To touch…to feel…Okay. Maybe she did want to be selfish. She wanted to rip his clothes off, wanted to see him naked—really wanted to see him naked. She barely stopped herself from arching into him, somehow reminding herself that when this was over she’d still be the girl with cancer that had become an ICE addiction, a load better carried alone.

  His fingers trailed down one of her bare arms, and she felt that touch all over her body. Her stomach fluttered. Her thighs ached. Her breasts felt heavy and full; her nipples tight and sensitive.

  “I’m trying to do what’s right here,” she whispered, her voice quavering as she struggled to find the will to resist him, even with words. There was something so enthralling about this man, so demanding about the desire he evoked in her. He was wild and thrilling, yet amazingly, what should feel dangerous felt safe.