by Cynthia Eden
By Cynthia Eden
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are not intentional and are purely the result of coincidence. The characters, places, and events in this story are fictional.
Copyright ©2017 by Cindy Roussos
All rights reserved. This publication may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without the express written consent of the author except for the use of small quotes or excerpts used in book reviews.
Copy-editing by: JRT Editing
(build 3)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Keep Me Close
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Author’s Note
About The Author
Prologue
Dr. Cecelia Gregory — Patient Session — Subject Two — Initial Meeting
Subject Two stalked into her office, moving with a lethal grace. His eyes—the most unusual shade of gold that she’d ever seen—locked on Dr. Cecelia Gregory’s face.
She stood, locking her knees and hoping that he couldn’t tell her body was trembling. She was supposed to be the one in control. The one there to help him. Instead, she was absolutely terrified.
What have I gotten myself into? She was deep in the bowels of the Arizona Lazarus research facility, and she was in way, way over her head. Project Lazarus was absolutely top secret, and she’d been handpicked by the powers-that-be in the U.S. government to take this position. The test subjects at Lazarus were super soldiers. They’d been enhanced, become stronger, faster, and far deadlier than normal men. And now those subjects, they were her new clients.
The door clicked closed behind Subject Two. From the corner of the room, a video camera watched them. They would always be watched, she knew that. The surveillance was a security measure. Supposedly to keep her safe. She always had someone watching her. She also had a tranq gun in her top drawer. Again, another measure to keep her safe because the subjects here—dangerous doesn’t even begin to describe them.
Cecelia forced a smile. She moved from behind her desk and offered her hand to the man she knew as Subject Two. “Hello. My name is Dr. Cecelia Gregory, and I’m here to help you.”
He didn’t even blink. Just stared at her with that battered gold stare of his. Subject Two was tall, easily over six foot, and built along powerful, muscled lines. He was a soldier, she knew that. She’d been given the briefest of background information on him. Before coming to Lazarus, he’d been a Navy SEAL. After taking the Lazarus formula, though, his old life had ended. All of his memories were gone. He didn’t know how to function normally any longer. That’s why I am here. The test subjects were given so many strengths as a result of Project Lazarus, but they’d had to pay a heavy price for their new powers.
“How are you going to help me?” His voice was low and rough, and a little shiver slid over her as Two’s words seemed to sink right into Cecelia.
She still had her hand up, outstretched to him. She’d wanted to start things on a positive note, but Two didn’t exactly look welcoming. He looked like he might pounce on her at any moment. She cleared her throat and opted to proceed cautiously. “I know the program here can be…difficult.”
He laughed. The sound held no humor. Not a real laugh. What would his real laugh sound like?
“You’re dealing with a lot,” she continued determinedly. She wasn’t one to give up easily. She’d interviewed and counseled plenty of dangerous individuals before. Arsonists, robbers, serial killers. She hadn’t been intimidated then, and she wouldn’t be now. “I can—”
“I have no past. I woke up in a cell, trapped like some kind of animal.”
She started to lower her hand.
But his hand flew up, and his fingers curled around hers. He felt warm, almost hot, and a primitive spark of awareness burned through her whole body when they touched.
Holding her hand and staring deeply into her eyes, Two rasped, “I was told that I volunteered for this program. Told that I gave up everything I was so that I could help good old Uncle Sam and become some sort of super soldier. Losing my past was the price I willingly agreed to pay.”
She licked her lips. His gaze immediately fell to her mouth and lingered. His hold tightened on her. Cecelia cleared her throat. The sound seemed a little too loud. “Y-you did volunteer. I saw the video myself.”
His lips—sensual lips, full—slid into the faintest of half-smiles. The smile never reached his eyes. “I saw the video, too. Short and sweet. Me, saying I volunteered for Project Lazarus.”
She tugged at her hand. At first, he didn’t let her go.
Her heartbeat picked up, racing faster as a sliver of fear cracked open inside of her. She didn’t let the fear show, though. She never did. Some of her patients liked fear too much.
Subject Two frowned, and he immediately released her. Cecelia stepped back. She wanted to jump across the room and put a whole lot more space between them, but she didn’t. She knew exposing weakness to this man would be a mistake.
“I’ve been employed to be the psychiatrist for the Lazarus test subjects.” Her voice was crisp and unemotional, and she was rather proud of that fact. If only her heart would stop racing. “There were quite a few unforeseen side effects because of your participation in Project Lazarus, and I’ve been hired by Wyman Wright to assist you with the transition that’s occurring.” Wyman Wright was a powerful force in D.C. She’d heard whispers about him over the years, but the day he’d appeared on her doorstep, she’d nearly fallen over in shock. She hadn’t realized she’d worked her way up to his radar, not until he’d made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. Mostly because…no one refused Wyman Wright.
Two’s gaze swept slowly down her body, from the top of her pale blue shirt—blue was supposed to be welcoming, so she’d worn it deliberately—down to her black, pencil skirt and to her chunky, black heels.
“My transition…” He rolled back his shoulders and crossed his hands over his chest as his gaze rose to pin hers once more. “Exactly how will you help with that? You think me coming in here and talking with you is supposed to do something special for me?”
Heat stained her cheeks. “I know about the increased aggression you’ve been feeling.”
Tension thickened the air. It seemed to press against her. Don’t show your fear. Hold it in. But the problem was…the men in Lazarus scared her. A lot. They scared her more than the serial killers she’d interviewed. Because those serial killers? They were just men. Ordinary men and women. But the Lazarus subjects…they are a whole new breed. “Aggression is my specialty. I can help you to get better control. To master the darker emotions that seem to be rising as a result of the formula.”
He advanced toward her. She absolutely refused to retreat. He was trying to invade her space, and she recognized the movement for exactly what it was—a power play. Dominance. She wasn’t going to let him get away with that shit.
He was the patient.
She was the shrink. And she could play games, too. Mind games were her forte.
“What would a pretty lady like you…” Two was right in fro
nt of her. Tall, strong, sexy…and scary. “Know about aggression?”
Now Cecelia smiled at him. A real smile. “Soon enough, you’ll find out.” Because she had a particular specialty in her practice. There was a reason why she’d been hand-picked for the job by Wyman Wright.
Killers were her business. She knew monsters, and she would stop the Lazarus men from becoming monsters…
Two just had to trust her.
Chapter One
For a dead man, Flynn Haddox felt fucking fantastic. He swung open the door to Dr. Cecelia Gregory’s office, marching right past the assistant who was shouting at him. He wasn’t in the mood for bullshit, and he wasn’t in the mood to wait. So he ignored the guy in the light blue suit—and he headed straight for the person he wanted.
The door banged against the wall and Cecelia glanced up, her hazel eyes immediately widening. She jumped to her feet. “Flynn? What are doing here?”
“I tried to stop him, Dr. Gregory!” Her assistant’s voice was definitely annoyed. “But he just barged right inside—”
Flynn spun to face the guy. Young, with slicked back hair and a suit that looked like it had just come from the store. All squeaky, shiny new and pressed to perfection. “Get the hell out,” Flynn barked at the guy.
The assistant’s mouth opened and closed. He didn’t get out.
“Flynn…”
Cecelia’s sweet scent filled Flynn’s nose as she hurried toward him. Vanilla. She smelled like sweet vanilla cream. He didn’t look back, but he could feel her closing in on him, and his nostrils flared as he pulled in more of her scent.
“Flynn, you’ve got to work on your tact. You know we talked about this before!”
They had. A time or ten. But screw tact. He glared at the young guy and fought the urge to say, “Boo.” Flynn was pretty sure the fellow would jump in response to that one word.
“I don’t know who this man is,” her assistant rushed to say. “He just ran right past me—”
“I’m Flynn. You heard the lady. She called me Flynn.” And yeah, his voice held an edge. He got edgy about his name. Mostly because, for months, he hadn’t used an actual name. He’d lived in a research facility in the middle of Arizona, and he’d just been called Subject Two.
No fucking more. The folks at Project Lazarus had tried to strip away his humanity and turn him into a killing machine. But he wasn’t a machine. He wasn’t some number. He was a man, even if, some days, he felt more like a monster.
“Flynn,” the assistant snapped as his cheeks flashed dark red, “isn’t on the schedule, Dr. Gregory. He isn’t—”
“Flynn should always be allowed in to see me,” Cecelia cut in quietly, “unless I’m with another patient.” She paused a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was lighter, teasing, “And since we’re just getting this office going once more, I don’t exactly have a full schedule at the moment, Mark.”
Mark. Yeah, the guy looked like a Mark. Preppy, stiff. In my way.
Flynn bared his teeth at the fellow. “You heard her. I get a standing invitation. You should make a note of that in the schedule.” He waved his hand toward the door as if to say, Go do that, now.
“But…why?” Mark appeared truly perplexed.
Flynn headed toward the fellow. Mark, wisely, backed the hell up. When he cleared the threshold of the office, Flynn nodded approvingly at the younger man. “Why? Simple. Because I’m her lover,” Flynn said bluntly. “And she likes having me close.”
Mark’s eyes bulged.
Flynn slammed the door shut on the fellow.
“That,” Cecelia announced, “is not appropriate.”
For the first time since his arrival, a real smile played at Flynn’s lips, but he smothered that smile quickly before he turned to face Cecelia—well, Cece. His Cece. He’d gotten rather possessive of his shrink since his time at Lazarus. “Sorry.” Not sorry. “But you know me, I’m little more than a beast. Don’t get the whole subtleties of human interaction.” He leaned his shoulders back against the door and let his gaze drink her in. Damn but he loved to look at her. “I’m not always real sure about what’s appropriate.”
Her eyes narrowed. Such interesting eyes. Hazel. But…depending on the color of the shirt that Cecelia wore, her eyes would change. If she wore a blue shirt—like she had the first time they’d met—her eyes would lighten more to blue. If she wore green, then her gaze darkened.
Interesting. Spectacular. Sexy.
But then, that was Cecelia. His sexy shrink.
Curvy, with a thick mane of red hair that he’d always itched to touch, he thought she was tempting as all hell. Her skin was smooth cream, her lips absolute temptation, and the small little dot of a mole near the corner of her right eye…just hot.
“Stop staring at me that way. It’s not appropriate.”
He sighed. A truly long-suffering sigh. “There you go again, Cece. Using the ‘appropriate’ word. Can’t blame a guy when he just doesn’t understand, right?”
Her shoulders straightened. She was wearing green today, and the color was absolutely killer on her. A strand of pearls circled her throat, and he wondered what she’d do if he crossed the room and slid his fingers under those pearls. If he bent his head and put his mouth right over her pulse. Licked her. Kissed her.
“You are not my lover,” Cecelia stated crisply. “I don’t appreciate the lie.”
I could be your lover, baby. If you’d just let down your guard… He pushed away from the door and took slow, measured steps toward his prey. Did she know he thought of her as prey? Probably not. But that was the way his mind worked. Predator. Prey.
Victim.
Hunter.
Shit, I am so fucked up.
Had Lazarus done this to him? Or had he always been screwed up? “Sorry.” The word was rusty on his lips. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have lied. Probably should have just told my new buddy Mark the truth. Said I was your bodyguard. I was a super soldier freak, and that a guy just like me—ten times stronger than your average human and with no moral compass at all—was currently gunning for you. Yep, probably should have warned the good old assistant that his ass was going to come in the line of fire.” Flynn shrugged. “And that he might die.”
The color bled from her cheeks. “Stop it.” Real anger bit into her words. “Don’t you dare come in here and try to scare me.”
He wanted to put his hands on her. To curl his fingers around her shoulders and yank her close. “Someone needs to scare you.” Since he was trying not to touch her, his hands fisted at his sides. “What the hell are you thinking…opening your office again? We talked about this. I told you it wasn’t a good idea—”
She laughed. It wasn’t a real laugh, he could tell, but the sound still made his chest feel funny. “We didn’t talk,” Cecelia enunciated each word carefully. “You ordered. You do that a lot. Order me about as if I’m a soldier under your command. Newsflash, I’m not. And I can’t keep living my life in limbo because I have an enemy out there, somewhere in the world. It’s been months since we escaped Lazarus. Months.”
He knew. He’d been living in the shadows that whole time.
“I needed an income. I needed a job. So, yes, I opened my practice again. I made that decision. I will be working. Consulting for the government, going back to my cases that I handled for the FBI. I had a life before Lazarus, and I’m damn well getting that life back.”
He looked away from her. “Good for you. Wish I could do the same.” But the life he’d had before was long gone.
Cecelia inhaled sharply. “Oh, shit.” Then she was reaching for him. Touching him. And his whole body stiffened in response. Her soft hands curled around his arm. “I didn’t mean it that way, Flynn.”
His gaze swept back to her face. Her beautiful face. The face that haunted his dreams. The face that obsessed him. The face that made him want to do all kinds of incredibly bad things to Cecelia.
“I’m so sorry that your past is gone. I wish I could bring
it back to you.”
He believed her. Cecelia had always said she’d wanted to help him. Funny thing was—she’d been one of the few people who actually meant those words. She hadn’t wanted to use him. She truly had wanted to help.
“You’re free now.” She squeezed his arm. “You can go anywhere. Be anyone. As far as the U.S. government is concerned, you’re dead.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “Baby, as far as everyone is concerned, I’m dead.” Because he was. Once upon a time, he’d been Flynn Haddox, decorated Navy SEAL. Then he’d been killed and taken into Project Lazarus. A top-secret formula had been pumped into his body, and he’d been brought back to life. Subject Two—that had been his new identity.
He’d come back from the dead with quite a few bonuses.
And some unfortunate side effects.
“Have you had any flashes of your past?” Her gaze was steady.
He shook his head. “Not a damn thing.”
“And, um, have you been hearing any voices in your head?”
Flynn glanced down to where her hands still curled around his arm. “If any other shrink asked me that, then I’d say the shrink was trying to figure out if I was crazy.”
“I’m not any other shrink.”
“No, you’re mine.” A possessive edge entered his voice. Primitive. Primal.
Her hands slid away from him. “I know you’re not crazy. We’re past that, don’t you think?”
He thought they weren’t past a lot of things. As far as him being crazy…some days, he barely held on to his sanity. Those were the days when he needed her the most.
“The voices—you know I was asking if you’d been receiving any psychic communication from the other Lazarus test subjects.”
Right. He knew that. One of those pesky side effects—the Lazarus subjects could communicate telepathically with each other. Different test subjects had received different powers. One bastard in particular could propel his emotions onto others. He could control them with the dark push of his power. He could make others feel jealousy, hate…and even a killing fury.
