Lost: Project Xol

by Amabel Daniels

  Like the previous places we’d stayed, entrance lights were semi-functioning, litter was abundant along the walkway to the rooms, and the space we’d paid for in cash was dingy, outdated, yet mostly clean.

  It didn’t matter. There was no sign of Michael and that was all that truly mattered. We entered the room and I followed behind Luke as he checked the space out. No intruders lurking in the dark.

  I didn’t wait for Luke to remind me and I didn’t need his order to dump out the backpack we’d stuffed our belongings in. Was this what a nomad felt like, depending on scant items for resources in so many foreign places? All the things tumbled onto the mattress and Luke and I picked through them. Nothing out of the ordinary. My panties—I snatched them closer to me. Luke almost smiled but didn’t raise his gaze to see my blush. He stood on the opposite side of the bed and collected his partially folded garments into a neat pile. Shoving aside my brush and a bottle of now-expired-and-nasty iced coffee, I saw it. The one thing Luke and I didn’t own.

  Maybe I was intended to possess the liquid contents of the syringe Luke had found in Michael’s pocket. Yet it was the single thing we couldn’t call our own.

  Luke picked it up and studied it, spinning in around.

  “That?”

  He peered closer, squinting as he examined the high-tech lock mechanism for the needle. “I don’t see anything other than this barcode…” He shrugged and lowered his arm before dropping the cylinder to the beige-checkered bedspread. “It’d be worth it to have it looked at, though.”

  Looked at by whom? I didn’t know anyone who could do a drug test on the down-low. The syringe seemed like a small dent in the huge rut we were stuck in, walled in with no answers. Maybe I could take a picture of it to send to Zero. “I guess. After we see to the archive and get Scott’s stuff from storage.”

  He nodded and headed to the bathroom. Halfway there, he stood and turned to me. “You want to shower first?”

  “Nah.” I shoveled our things back into the backpack. “You go first. That way I can put the stinky stuff on your shoulder and then shower and wash it off my hands real good.” I’d fallen asleep last night and I bet he’d missed our nightly routine.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Does it still hurt?” I shot him a stern glare.

  “That’s beside the point. You don’t have—”

  “Then obviously I must want to.” With that, I plopped on the bed and rested my head back on the too-stiff headboard. I closed my eyes to avoid his retorting expression and exhaled with relief when the bathroom door closed.

  Michael Poole. A cop-slash-federal agent. He’d found us too many times. The first, in Rosa’s apartment, I bet only she could answer the reason why. All these times after we ran from Cincy, though…

  I doubted I’d be able to sleep with the anxiety following another near-death experience. This wasn’t something to build up a tolerance for, like alcohol. Speaking of…something potent and heady would be so nice right now. Anything to numb me from thinking, worrying, stressing what-ifs—

  “All yours.”

  Luke came toward the bed, wearing nothing but a towel. Steam chased after him as he walked away from the bathroom, wrapping around him like tendrils that refused to let go.

  Hell, I wouldn’t want to let go either. Drops of water ran down from his neck and meandered along the dips and cuts of his muscles. Streams that lined those abs and were caught by the not-so-plush white fabric at his waist. If I could get my hands, my lips, my tongue on that flesh, I’d be clamoring for more and more—

  “Cassidy?”

  Stop. Staring. Goddammit. As much as I appreciated the distraction he provided, I didn’t want to be caught ogling red-handed. Again.

  “Right.” I jumped up from the bed, not even bothering to duck my head. Like he couldn’t see my damn blush anyway. I scurried past him, too weak to refrain from taking a good, long glance of his bare back, and then stilled mid-step.

  “Oh, wait. Your shoulder.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and I bit my lower lip, wincing to myself as I kneeled behind him.

  Stop staring. Rub this god-awful crap in. And go. Obsessing about his body and the hot desire touching him brought upon me was a task better done alone. As clinically as I could, I massaged the stinky cream onto his shoulder and had to admit it did look a lot better. Still, I wanted to apologize again, and probably would have if he wouldn’t be so likely to hate it.

  I didn’t speak during the torture of this physical contact and I crawled off the bed. Before I could bolt to the safety of the shower, he called out a soft, “Thanks.”

  Even though my body was still warm from the effect of being near him nearly naked, my brain was a cock-block on enjoying my shower. Once I stepped under the water, the fears and worries crept right back in. Go figure. My attraction to Luke had a damned short afterlife. Or, my body had survival at a higher priority than getting laid. Made sense. Live to procreate later.

  I frowned under the spray. The hell with that. If I was going to go, with a sexy man like Luke near me, I’d rather tap that and—

  I growled and didn’t even care if Luke heard me.

  It wouldn’t have mattered if he had been listening to me shower—imagining me in the shower, all wet and waiting for him—no, stop! I got out and dried off, and when I came to the bedroom, I found him already asleep. Guilt nibbled at me for not trying harder to drive more. Then again, look how well that ended. I nearly stalled the damn thing and he’d almost made a move on me. I think? I hadn’t had enough time to properly recognize the way he’d been staring at me so hotly, leaning closer and closer, his gaze dropping to my mouth…

  Well, hell. I fidgeted as I stood there watching him sleep, my panties starting to feel a bit damp. And it wasn’t from the heat of the shower. If thinking about an almost-kiss from Luke could rev me up to be this horny… Jesus. The real thing would be an instant orgasm.

  Rolling my eyes, I scolded the thoughts from my head as I dressed and then slipped under the covers next to him. Unlike the previous night, we were cohabiting again. With him already asleep though, it reduced the awkwardness of getting into our confined space.

  Hours later, however, our sleeping arrangements were skewered again. His arms shot out and I was jerked awake fast enough that I immediately knew what was up. Him, kind of. Another nightmare gripping him.

  “Fuck…you…” he got out between his clenched jaw. I blinked in the darkness of the night, trying to make him out as I reached over. He didn’t jolt at my touch and pin me down to the bed. This time, he bear hugged me to him, squashing me to his bare chest before rolling us so I was trapped under him.

  “Luke.” Saying his name was all it took to really wake him. And when he did, the shaking sigh he let out broke my heart. “It’s okay.”

  Fat chance it was, but a little lie never hurt anyone. Just like the other night, I relaxed against him and let him soak in my comfort, the only thing I could think to give him. A hug. My hands rubbing on his back. Gently calming our breaths.

  And as I lay there, wondering what hell resided in his head, I realized I didn’t need to know. I didn’t need to know everything about this man I could trust with my life. Because as I fell further in the familiarity of his body wrapped with mine, I could only rely on what I felt. A tortured soul seeking the security of my comfort.

  And I refused to fail him.

  Chapter Seven

  Cassidy

  I woke to Luke quietly grunting again and shifted to watch him do his exercises on the floor. First the push-ups—seemed the Icy Hot was doing its job—then the crunches. He had to know I was watching, yet he didn’t acknowledge me.

  Finished, he rolled to stand.

  “That was only ninety-nine,” I said.

  He cocked his head and raised his brows at me.

  Yes. Yes, I was counting.

  “You think?” He rubbed a hand down his chest and shrugged. “Close enough, anyway. We should get going.”


  I flopped back to the bed and barely stifled a groan at the impatience in his tone. Hey, I liked to sleep in as much as everyone else. Sue me. As if seven in the morning was sleeping in.

  We went through our morning routine of getting ready and leaving. There was no reason for a gentle break to the day. Protein bars and bottled water from the vending machines near the lobby, and we were out the door. No sign of Michael waiting for us either, and I saw no hint of the man on the half-hour drive to the campus. In the daylight, nothing seemed ominous about the intersection where we’d been shoved off the road. But there was no escaping the chill when we traveled over the same routes we’d gone the day before when scoping out Harlowe and its surroundings.

  After we parked the truck in a visitor lot near the library, Luke took my hand and squeezed it once. Comfort? Reassurance? Shit. Was it some kind of sign? I glanced around, my heart jumping to frantic mode.

  “Chill.”

  Did he just roll his eyes at me?

  “I don’t want us to get separated.”

  Oh. Ok—ay.

  I clung to the strength and warmth he offered me in his grip and we were quiet as we entered the massive building. Immediately, I felt at home. Books upon books everywhere. The uniquely musky scent of aging paper came at once and I inhaled deeply.

  “Where to, you think?”

  Here, I had an answer. “I looked it up last night. The basement entrance should be at the back corner.”

  I guided us toward the area where I’d hoped to finally get the materials Rosa had sent me to fetch. As we neared the receptionist stand guarding the area, dread pooled in my gut.

  Hammers pounded in the background and the ever-present and unpredictable buzzing of drills and saws sounded through what was supposed to be silence. Sawhorses and opened toolboxes were scattered in the space around the lone secretary standing at a desk in this niche of the vast library.

  A thin brunette crouched over the desktop, headphones covering her ears. Double-checking that the sign fastened to the counter read Sciences, I approached. Luke let go of my hand, and when I glanced back at him, he nodded for me to proceed.

  “Hello?”

  Of course she didn’t hear me. I tapped on the counter directly in front of the phone she was playing Candy Crush on. Her shoulder drooped in a dramatic sigh, and she stood to face me. I was only worthy of her nudging one headphone off one ear. Plus a pissy, blank stare.

  “Help you?”

  Come on. She was working in a library and couldn’t even word a damn question properly? I smiled regardless and explained that I was there to collect material out of Scott Farger’s storage. Before I could even bring out the keyring, she held up a hand and laughed once.

  “Not today.”

  “Excuse me?” I frowned at her smirk.

  She jabbed a thumb behind her. “You don’t see none of that construction?” A bigger smirk. “Ain’t no one’s going down there. They gotta redo the elevators and crap since they’re putting all the science junk together in the basement. Maintenance closed off access.”

  Dammit.

  “For how long?” I asked, trying my hardest to keep the bite out of my voice.

  “Do I look like some kinda construction expert?”

  No, you look like a dimwitted moron who doesn’t even grasp the simplest—

  “Did they say when they’d be done?” Luke asked as he now stepped forward to my side. “We’d really like to get down there.”

  “Hmm.” She tilted her lips from a smirk to a sultry smile for him.

  Gritting my teeth, I refused to glower at her. Of course she’d be purring and easygoing for him.

  I watched from the corner of my eye as Luke leaned an elbow on the desk and gave this airhead the most seductive and charming grin I’d ever seen.

  “Well, I bet I could find out for you, hun.” She dropped her arm down so she rested an elbow on the wood too, her skin parallel and too damn close to Luke’s muscled limb.

  “Now, please?” I asked.

  Fine. The bite was there and I was snipping.

  She rolled her eyes at me and pushed off the counter.

  Luke shifted to face the desk fully and bumped me with his uninjured shoulder. “Easy…”

  “Like it’s too much to ask for her to just do her job—”

  His chuckle grated at my nerves. Like he knew I was irked at her instantly taking to him. I had no claim over him, no matter how much we’d cuddled through the night.

  Hell, if he ever blasted that aw-shucks charm on me, I’d be a puddle of goo, too.

  The girl returned, offering him a pouty frown. “Not ’til tomorrow morning. And it’ll only be for a little bit, they said.”

  “Thanks,” Luke said and rapped his knuckles on the desktop twice.

  “Hmm mmm.” She waved her fingers at him and winked before we turned away.

  Outside in the library’s main lobby, I exhaled a growl and paced. Luke caught my hand though and I stopped, facing him with a scowl.

  “Now what?”

  He shrugged. “Well, we’re not getting downstairs today.”

  “So we’ll just be sitting ducks here? Waiting?”

  He let go of my hand and patted his pocket. “Maybe not. I’ve got the needle in here. What if we tried to find someone who could help us figure out what’s in it?”

  I furrowed my brow. Was he kidding? “Like that’s not asking for trouble?”

  “Hear me out.” He jerked his chin toward a bistro table and we took seats at it. He continued, “Let’s look for some chemistry student. Or a student teacher. We can say…” He rubbed at the scruff along his jaw and narrowed his eyes at me. “We can say you were almost raped and you found this at the scene. You want to know if it’s a date-rape drug.”

  “And they’ll say tell the cops?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Because…” His frown of deep thinking egged me on.

  I used to love playing ad libs. “Because…my boyfriend’s dad is a cop and he’ll whoop his ass?”

  Luke shrugged. “Something like that. We’ll make up something and see if someone will check it out for us.”

  It actually wasn’t a bad idea. A good way to seek information on the down-low. Besides, with college students, there was less of a chance for concerns about safety. The blissful ignorance of the youth.

  “No harm trying.”

  I consulted the campus map on a sign near the parking lot, easily locating the chemistry buildings, and we headed that way. Luke’s idea turned out to be a decent one, and once we found a lone student teacher waiting in a hallway, he morphed his genius strategy to another level.

  Because this gal—Deana—had the same damn reaction to Luke’s secret weapon. One flash of his killer smile and gentle tone, and she was nearly putty. She stiffened a little when she glanced at us holding hands, and boom. I became his shy, quiet little sister. So of course she took pity on me almost being allegedly raped and drugged. And of course she warmed up to Luke’s request for her to look at the contents of the syringe, such a brave, caring big brother he was.

  I’d about had it of her cozying up to him after he’d let go of my hand. She led us to the lab room where she taught—of all things, toxicology—and was damn near rubbing herself against him. But hey, answers were answers. Again, I had no claim on him. Maybe he was enjoying all this attention from another promiscuous and flirtatious girl. Who was I—the meek prude—to ruin it?

  Deana mentioned the names of a few drugs when Luke inquired what she’d possibly think someone could use in a date-rape drug. I lingered behind them and took a seat on a stool. Staying out of the way. That was my goal, at least. Yet I couldn’t refrain from glancing at them every time she laughed so shrilly or touched Luke’s arm.

  Jesus. Get a grip. He’s not a piece of meat.

  To avoid fuming, I hoped I’d gain some thread of patience distracting myself. I pulled my phone from my pocket. No calls or texts from Zero, and I twitched my lips. Was this a no-
news-is-good-news kind of deal? It couldn’t be. News of Rosa and where she was would be the only positive news. Lack of news meant… I didn’t want to know what. I had to linger in the faith she was alive since she’d recently mailed me a letter from Detroit.

  There were plenty of other things to wonder about and I tried to dabble in a little research of my own. My Google searches were dinky compared to the deep-web type of sleuthing Zero could do as he hacked his way through the cyber world, but I couldn’t just sit here and worry and wonder.

  Since the computer closest to me wasn’t locked, I typed in Michael Poole and was bombarded. It was a common name and I grew frustrated at the abundance of misses. So many were clearly not links to the man who’d tried to kill me and who I’d thought I’d killed.

  Tuning out Luke and the chemistry girl, I concentrated, scrolling through links and closing out of windows that led to nothing.

  Then I found an image that trapped the air in my lungs.

  It was him. Michael Poole. I’d almost scrolled right past him because he was smiling. My recognition lagged because I only ever saw the man pissed-off and murderous. In this picture, though? He was cheery and happy, grinning so wide, obviously proud and elated at… I read on through the headline as I clicked on the link associated with the picture.

  His face was small on the screen until the full image uploaded—thank you fast Wi-Fi on campus—showing the diabolical man hunting me dressed in a football uniform. Huh. Okay… So he’d played football somewhere?

  Michael Poole, senior at Berain Community College, starting quarterback of the State Tournament, bringing the Berain Badgers to victory as the champions of 1994.

  Huh? The picture showed a grainy black and white image of the man I knew currently. Broad-shouldered, healthily fit, around my age, no older than thirty, it seemed. A huge beefcake with dark buzz-cut hair. The smile was a huge difference, but the man who nearly strangled me in Ohio and faced me off in New York a few days ago, that man looked exactly like the dude in this image. I scanned the headline again and then read further in the article. Michael Poole. College senior. Quarterback. Won tourney in…