Double Helix Collection: A Genetic Revolution Thriller

by Jade Kerrion

  Damn. He could already feel the tension headache coming on.

  “Think for a second, Danyael. You may be able to turn thugs back with a single nasty glance, but you don’t stand a chance in a physical fight, nor can you get through an electronically sealed door. I broke into Pioneer Labs and got Galahad out. You’ll need me and Xin to save Lucien.”

  A muscle twitched in his smooth cheek as he studied her. She was right, and they both knew it. “Fine,” he conceded.

  “Right, fine,” she repeated with a sneer. “Don’t worry. I promise we won’t have to deal with each other any more than is absolutely necessary.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Lucien’s private jet was a work of art, equipped with the latest technology and every possible physical comfort, short of a heated swimming pool. It was large enough for them to avoid each other easily. Danyael stayed at the cockpit, talking to the pilots, while Zara luxuriated at the rear of the airplane.

  The call from Xin came while they were in the air. “Patch her in to the conference table,” Danyael told the co-pilot and then headed toward the rear of the plane. “Xin’s calling in,” he told Zara. She jumped up from the plush leather couch and followed him to the conference table that dominated the space in the center of the plane. He took a seat at the table across from Zara and reached for the controls to lower a flat-panel screen from the ceiling compartment. Several thin lines of static appeared on the screen and resolved into an image of a Chinese woman, young and attractive in an understated way. Her long dark hair was pulled into a messy knot, leaving tendrils to frame her face. He studied her brown almond-shaped eyes. Despite her claims of prior acquaintance, he had no recollection of ever having seen her before, but he supposed that was precisely the point and purpose of a memory wipe.

  “I know where they took Lucien,” Xin reported without preamble. “He’s at Gold Cay, a tiny island on the western border of the Bahamas.”

  “Good work, Xin,” Zara commented.

  Xin shrugged, a glimmer of worry in her eyes. “It didn’t take me very long to find him. I barely had to try.”

  “A trap? But why?” Zara asked, “Why would anyone imagine that Galahad would walk into a trap to save Lucien?”

  “It’s not for Galahad,” Danyael said quietly. “It’s for me.”

  Zara swiveled around in her chair. “You? But why?”

  “It’s common knowledge that Lucien has done a great deal for me and I’m indebted to him.”

  “Do you have enemies?”

  His stomach churned. “Yes.”

  “I hate to say this,” Xin prefaced cautiously, “but it’s probably more important to keep you safe than it is Lucien.”

  Danyael inhaled deeply. What could he do? Lucien was the one person immune to his empathic powers. In theory, Lucien was safe from him, the only one he could not hurt, but Lucien had gotten hurt anyway, because of him. My fault. Slowly and deliberately, Danyael unclenched his fists. “I’ll do the only thing I can do. Spring the trap.”

  “Fun,” Xin said, smiling faintly. “One more thing, I’ve been keeping Miriya and Galahad updated on what’s happening. They want to help.”

  “Absolutely not,” Danyael and Zara said simultaneously.

  “Right. I’ll pass on the message.” Xin shook her head, her brow furrowing. “Actually, you know what? You can tell them yourselves. I’m not playing messenger girl. I have real work to do, and I don’t get paid enough for this back-and-forth nonsense. They’re at Lucien’s penthouse in Rio. I spoke to them, and they’re waiting to hear how they can help muddy up the waters. Danyael, where should I meet up with you?”

  “Fort Lauderdale. Lucien has a home at Harbor Beach.”

  “I can look up the address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Xin hung up.

  Danyael dialed Phillip’s number. “We’re headed to Fort Lauderdale,” he told Lucien’s aide.

  “Is that where Lucien is?” Phillip asked, his voice sounding thin over the speakerphone system.

  “No. We think they have him out somewhere in the Bahamas, but we’ll need to come up with a plan anyway, and might as well be safe while doing so.”

  “Makes sense. I’ll alert the staff at the house there to expect you.”

  “Phillip, I need high security and absolute discretion.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Where is Lucien’s yacht?”

  “Ah…I believe it’s in Annapolis. I’ll have to check.”

  “Send it to Fort Lauderdale. Can you have a car meet us at the airport?”

  “Certainly.” There was a scratching sound on the other end, as if Phillip were scribbling notes. “Did you want me to meet you at Fort Lauderdale?”

  “No, I need you to stay in D.C. with the Winters and buy me some time. Don’t let them call the Feds; they’ll get in my way.”

  “I’ll hold them off for as long as I can, but it’ll be tough.” Phillip sounded dubious. “You’ll need to talk to them.”

  Danyael shook his head sharply. “My empathic powers don’t work over the phone, Phillip.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. You cover a pretty good distance without it. Anything else?”

  “Yes.” Danyael reached for pen and paper. “The number for the penthouse in Rio.”

  ~*~

  Zara had a moment to herself when Danyael returned to the front of the airplane to tell the pilots to change course and fly to Fort Lauderdale. Leaning back in the chair, she turned to look out the window. Her thoughts drifted. How had she never seen that side of Danyael before? In Washington, D.C., he had seemed little more than a pliable subordinate to Lucien Winter. For days after, he had been too sick, too exhausted to seem much of anything.

  What she thought were glimmers of his personality emerged as he regained his strength—quiet patience, sparkling subtly with easy, wry humor—but she had never suspected he would so easily step up to meet challenges. He had single-handedly taken out ten men, apparently indifferent to the fact that they were armed with automatic weapons. He had his mutant powers to help him, of course, but the courage he demonstrated had nothing to do with mutant powers. Nor had she expected him to step up to command Lucien’s vast resources. She had not expected the automatic deference of Lucien’s employees to Danyael’s authority.

  She looked up when she heard footsteps approach.

  “Are you ready to call them?” he asked when he rejoined her at the table. His eyes were cool, focused, as if she had imagined the gut-ripping pain she had seen in them hours earlier.

  “Yes.”

  He inhaled deeply. A muscle twitched in his smooth cheek before the flicker of vulnerability in his sculptured features smoothed into impassiveness. He reached for the console and entered the phone number for Lucien’s penthouse in Rio de Janeiro.

  She concealed a smirk. It pleased her to know that he was human after all.

  The grey of the screen flashed into full color. Beside her, Danyael’s dark gaze locked on his perfect mirror image. After a moment of silence, Danyael dropped his gaze briefly. She saw in his eyes the battle for composure before he looked up once again. “Galahad.”

  “You remember?” Galahad asked quietly.

  “No,” Danyael said simply, “but I’m told we’ve met before.” Danyael shifted his attention to the young woman beside Galahad. “And you must be Miriya.”

  Miriya nodded. The blond telepath said nothing, but her green eyes were watchful. Zara steadied herself against the odd sensation trickling down her spine. There was no way Miriya could be reading her mind from so far away. She had to be overreacting. She was almost certain of it.

  “How are things going over there?” Zara asked.

  “Much more idyllically than they have for you, or so I’ve heard,” Miriya replied. “We’ve discovered that swimming wasn’t part of Galahad’s core curriculum back at Pioneer Labs.” Her sharp gaze shifted pointedly to Danyael. “How are you keeping up?”

  “I’ll be all
right,” he said automatically. “I know Xin has kept you apprised of the situation here. I understand your desire to help, but it would be a mistake for you to come back to the US.”

  “I owe Lucien,” Galahad said.

  “I’m sure he appreciates the sentiment, but he won’t appreciate you undoing everything he’s done to help you get safely out of the country.”

  “Lucien did his part, but you paid the higher price,” Galahad said quietly. “I’m doing this for you too.”

  A wry half smile curved Danyael’s lips. “Then stay away, because I can’t afford to pay the price of getting you out again.”

  “Danyael, you have no idea what’s out there waiting for you,” Miriya interjected. “What if they’re psi-shielded? You won’t be able to do anything against them.”

  “This is a trap. For me,” Danyael pointed out, his voice calm. “Why would I drag anyone else into it?”

  “Because we’re your best chance of getting Lucien out without leaving you behind.” Miriya shook her head in disgust. “Your half-assed concept of a rescue isn’t doing anyone—least of all yourself—any favors.”

  Zara stifled a gasp of surprise. Danyael had not expected to get out? Why had she not seen or suspected that?

  “You…” Danyael’s voice trailed into silent disbelief.

  “Yes, I have a hook in your mind,” Miriya confirmed. “I can track you across the world if I had to, and you can safely assume that your thoughts are as transparent as glass to me as long as I’m close or have visual or auditory contact.”

  “Damn it! You have no right.”

  “I held on because I figured you’d need me at some point,” she snapped. Her anger matched his. “I watched you lose your memories, and it damn near killed me. Don’t tell me I have no right. I’ve earned the bloody right to hang around.”

  Danyael tore his gaze away from Miriya. “No one else needs to get hurt.”

  “Right,” Miriya agreed. “And that includes you. What you need to get through your thick skull is that other people’s safety—or their happiness, for that matter—does not need to come at the expense of your own.”

  Reflexively, he glanced at Zara. She could not decipher his expression. The silence grew long, turned awkward.

  “What should I trust, Miriya?” He looked at the telepath. “A lifetime of evidence or wishful thinking?”

  “Trust your friends,” Miriya said simply. “Trust us.”

  “We could use them,” Zara confirmed. “Galahad’s brilliant in a fight, and Miriya’s an alpha telepath. You can never have too many of those on your side.”

  Danyael inhaled deeply. “All right. When Zara and I arrive at Fort Lauderdale, I’ll send the plane to Rio for you. It’ll take you to Nassau, and from there, a helicopter will take you to Lucien’s yacht, where we’ll be waiting. We’ll need to work out the timing—the yacht is on its way from Annapolis to Fort Lauderdale—but Phillip can nail down the details and get the information to you. We should see you within a day or two.”

  “Fine. We’ll be ready to move as soon as you give the word,” Miriya said softly. Before she disconnected the call, she cast a final look at Danyael, her green eyes locking on his dark, fathomless gaze. “Danyael, how are you, really?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “I do, but I’d rather hear from you.”

  His shoulders moved in a shrug, or perhaps with a sigh. A rare smile—poignantly sad—curved his lips. “I’ll be all right.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Only in Florida, Zara mused as she stretched out on the lounge chair by the pool. An unusually cold winter plagued most of the continental United States. Technically, it was winter in Fort Lauderdale too, but at a pleasant seventy degrees at midday, a poolside lunch seemed perfectly natural. When poolside views included an unobstructed and unparalleled panorama of the Intracoastal Waterway, it was practically a sin to spend time indoors.

  She closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift. She had to refrain from dwelling on Danyael, from running in endless mental circles over what had happened. She wished she could relax enough to sleep. If Danyael were around, he could have helped. He had eased her into sleep once before, when she had been particularly troubled. Her sleep had been long, dreamless, and peaceful, but she would be damned if she went to him for help. Ever again.

  It was mid-afternoon when Xin arrived. “If only it were ten degrees warmer.” Xin stepped onto the patio, squinting up at the sun. “But then again, I didn’t bring a bikini.” She peered at Zara, who had stripped down to T-shirt and shorts. “Any progress on that winter tan?”

  “I take too long to tan.” Zara cast a critical glance at her skin, an even hue of creamy mocha, thanks to her Lebanese and Venezuelan heritage. In contrast, Xin was several shades lighter. “It’s good to see you again.” She smiled at Xin with genuine pleasure.

  “You too. Where’s Danyael?”

  “Indoors. Resting, I think.”

  “How is he?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I’m asking you.” Xin sat on the lounge chair across from Zara. “Earlier this morning, he told me you weren’t traveling together anymore. Obviously you convinced him otherwise, but why the split?”

  Zara frowned, but she did not hesitate as she brought Xin up to speed on everything that had happened, starting from the accident outside Chicago. She forced icy detachment into her voice.

  Xin listened in silence, interrupting once or twice with questions.

  When Zara was done, she waited for Xin to speak. “Well?” she demanded finally, when Xin remained silent for several minutes.

  Xin shrugged, picked up the olive from Zara’s martini, and popped it into her mouth. “Sounds like it was good sex.”

  Zara’s eyes flashed wide. Her jaw dropped in disbelief. “What the hell?”

  Xin continued calmly. “In your own words, it was ‘the best sex’ you ever had. So what exactly is the problem here?”

  Had Xin suddenly become completely obtuse? “I thought he was Galahad. He knew that I thought he was Galahad.”

  “Zara, seriously, a saint couldn’t turn you down if you were coming on to him. I’m guessing Danyael, by his own choice, doesn’t get to see a lot of action. What’s he supposed to do when you start stripping him down and sticking your tongue in his mouth? Push you away?”

  “Yes.”

  Xin shrugged again, the motion graceful. “I think that’s completely unrealistic, but that’s just me. To be honest, it doesn’t even sound like something Danyael would do if he knew you’d mistaken him for Galahad. He’s got too much pride for that. By the way, the people who attacked you and Danyael last night while you were in the car, and again this morning at the B and B, those weren’t the Feds. Those attacks on you weren’t reported by any federal or state agency.”

  “Then who were they?”

  “I have no idea. I checked with A*STAR; it’s not them either. If you had pictures, I could track them down.”

  “Danyael’s not big into killing, and it’s hard to get good photographs when they’re running away from you.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” Xin glanced at the house. “Are we having dinner tonight with Danyael?”

  Zara rolled her eyes, pushed to her feet, and stalked away.

  Xin chuckled quietly. “Never mind, I’m sorry I asked.”

  ~*~

  It took Xin half an hour to get the dinner she wanted. First, she had an extended argument with Lucien’s French chef, using the butler as a translator, over exactly what she wanted for dinner. “What Danyael’s having” seemed to offend the chef who had prepared a magnificent veal osso bucco slow cooked in red wine sauce, accompanied by a savory lobster and scallop risotto. Xin saw a single serving of steamed vegetables and slices of grilled chicken breast on a serving tray. That meal was Danyael’s, she was told. The chef sniffed, an injured sound that testified to mortified professional pride. According to the butler, the chef had been deeply wounded by Danyael’s
request for something simple and easy on the stomach.

  Of course, Xin poured salt into the wound by requesting the same.

  Nevertheless, she got her way eventually and dismissed the maid in favor of rolling the cart to Danyael’s room on the second floor. Her psychic shields in place, she knocked briskly. Moments later, Danyael, casually barefoot and dressed in a white T-shirt and faded jeans, unlocked and opened the door.

  “Dinner is served,” Xin announced with a smile. She blinked in surprise. Danyael’s bedroom was not just another guest room in Lucien’s mansion. It was clearly a room permanently set aside for Danyael and decorated in a style similar to his room in Lucien’s Washington, D.C. home. Polished mahogany floors instead of plush carpet. Walls painted soft cream instead of the richer, darker hues that dominated the rest of the house. Small elements personalized the room, like the collection of old books, their frayed edges and marked spines suggesting that they were well read, arranged on the seat by the bay windows. Everywhere she looked, she saw evidence that Lucien cared enough for his friend to give Danyael the life he wanted instead of merely integrating Danyael into Lucien’s own. She found the thought reassuring.

  “Thank you,” Danyael said. He took a harder look at her. “Xin?”

  “Yup, that’s right.” She smiled at him. “I’d like to join you for dinner, if it’s all right by you.”

  “Of course.” He gestured at a table by the large bay windows and helped her transfer place settings, dishes, and glasses from the cart to the table. “I’m surprised Armand didn’t come up with something more inspired for your dinner.”

  “He did,” Xin admitted. “He was peeved when I told him I wanted what you were having.”

  Danyael chuckled, a low and amused sound. “You didn’t have to match my meal.”

  “I know, but I wanted to.” She sat across from him. “I feel weird eating something when I know that the person I’m eating with can’t enjoy it. How are you holding up physically?”

  “I’m doing much better.” He gestured at his plate. “This is far more than I’ve been able to manage in the past few days.”