Red Zone

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

When she looked up at Striker, his face was an innocent mask. Oh yes, there was definitely something strange going on. And as soon as she got her man alone, she’d make sure she got to the bottom of it.

  “I’m cooking,” Mace said by way of hello.

  Friday looked up at him, waiting for his reaction. Sure enough, shock registered in his face, too, before he quickly covered it. Her stomach tightened. There was something very wrong with her.

  Mace’s eyes shot to Striker, who grinned, evidently pleased with himself. Whatever shocked his team, didn’t bother him. Her eyes narrowed at him. Sneaky man. What had he done?

  “I’m glad you aren’t dead,” Mace said, pulling her attention back to him.

  “Smooth, brother,” Sandi said. “Real smooth.”

  “Thanks?” What else was she supposed to say to that?

  “I’m cooking,” he said again. “Tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll make it.”

  “I thought you could only make chili?”

  “I’ll adapt.”

  She blinked at him, and then something mischievous yawned and stretched within her, waking from a lifelong slumber. She gave him a sweet, overly innocent smile. “You’ll make anything I want?”

  “Yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair, “it’s the least I can do for being an asshole to you.”

  Her smile widened. “In that case, I’d really love some lobster.”

  “Lobster?” His jaw fell. “We’re in the middle of the Red Zone. The coast is miles away. How the hell am I supposed to get my hands on lobster, and how the hell do I cook it if I do?”

  She forced her lower lip to tremble, and felt Striker’s chest shudder as he fought back laughter

  “Damn it!” Mace threw up his hands. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out.” He stormed back down the tunnel toward the kitchen.

  “That was evil,” Sandi said. “I’m impressed.” Then she followed her brother.

  She grinned after them. “I’ve never had lobster. I hope it’s nice.”

  Striker’s wide answering smile was so sexy it made her feel faint—which made her grateful again that he carried her. One smile from the man was enough to make her crumple.

  The shower room was empty, and Striker left her to brush her teeth while he ran the water to warm it. Then he stripped.

  “What are you doing?” She licked her lips at the sight of him, giggling when he puffed out his chest a little at her reaction.

  “I’m gonna get you showered.”

  “I can shower by myself.”

  He pointed at her death grip on the sink. “Yeah, I’d be more inclined to believe that if you could stand without help. You’re weak right now, bébé, your system has been through a lot, and you’ve been unconscious for weeks. Let me help you.”

  How could she resist him when he talked to her like that? She reached for him, and he came to her instantly. Slowly, reverently, he unbuttoned the shirt he’d dressed her in. The pale blue cotton came to her knees like a dress and smelled of him. It fell from her shoulders to puddle on the floor, his warm hands trailing after it, making her cool skin burn under his touch.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered. “I keep thinking it’s all a dream.”

  “I’m not sure it’s real, either.” She pressed a kiss to his chest, right above his heart. “But even if it isn’t, I like this dream.”

  “I thought I’d lost you.” His hands tightened on her. “I don’t know what I’d have done if that happened. I think I might have gone insane.”

  She felt more tears pool in her eyes and put it down to being weak from unconsciousness. She turned her face up for a kiss, and he didn’t disappoint her. It was sweet, soft, and lingering, because now they had all the time in the world. With reluctance, he broke the kiss and led her into the steaming shower, where he took his time washing her, caring for her. Loving her. He lingered to kiss and tease until she complained he was leading her on when she was too weak to do anything about it. With a chuckle, he wrapped her in a towel and took her back to his room. She was grateful to find it empty. She wanted to be alone with her man. He pulled the curtain over the doorway to let people know they wanted privacy, and then he carried her over to the mirror in the corner.

  She looked at the large bed, which someone had thoughtfully remade with fresh sheets, and wondered why he hadn’t taken her there, instead. Then she remembered the shocked looks on the faces of his team and her stomach clenched. This was it. He was going to tell her about the damage the poison had done to her. She touched her face. There wasn’t any scarring. It had to be something else.

  Placing her in front of the mirror, he stood between her and her reflection. He looked nervous, which made her stomach knot. Striker was never nervous. The diamondback, which had followed them, crawled over to sit at her feet. Unlike the man, the rattler didn’t seem worried in the least.

  “What is it?” She trembled, wishing he would just get it over with and tell her the bad news. The anticipation was killing her. She wanted to move on.

  He took a deep breath. “We think that the red mist, the diamondback venom, and the poison you took interacted to cause a different effect than you had expected.”

  “Well, yes. I expected to be dead.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Really? This is the time for sarcasm? Can’t you see I’m worried here?”

  “Sorry. Carry on.”

  “Right, so, the thing is…” He ran a hand over the top of his head, a sure sign of anxiety. “Ah, to hell with it, see for yourself.”

  He stepped away from the mirror. She felt him come up behind her and hold onto her waist to steady her. Or perhaps catch her when she passed out. Which wasn’t unlikely. Because Friday was stunned by what she saw.

  Trembling, she trailed a fingertip under her left eye. The eye that was now a mirror of Striker’s reptilian one. As she moved her hand, she spotted the image of a tiny diamondback coiled inside her upper arm. It was smaller than Striker’s tattoo, but there was no missing the fact it matched his. Her heart stuttered. This had to be a dream. Right?

  “Oh my goodness…” She ran her finger over the image on her arm, barely touching it. Her eyes met Striker’s in the mirror. “Is it a real snake? Like yours?”

  “We think so. It’s a baby right now, but the handbag said it will become a full-grown female a year from now.”

  The diamondback rubbed against her legs in an affectionate move.

  “The handbag says you’re welcome,” Striker said in disgust.

  Friday took a step closer to the mirror, studying her eyes. It was strange to see herself with one blue and one yellow. “How did this happen? It took a hundred years for you to change.”

  “We don’ know, bébé. That’s what you need to find out.”

  A surge of excitement rushed through her, and her ever-curious mind started to overrule the shock. “Will I be able to see heat signatures like you do?”

  “We think so, but you’re in the early stages. The snake is still developing within you.”

  “You know, I kind of knew this,” she muttered as she studied the image of the snake on her arm, “I felt something happening inside me. I thought it was the Interferan. I didn’t realize it was this. Now it makes sense. Will my snake talk to me, too? Will I be able to call it out the way you do with Sam? Will I have to eat rodents? Are we permanently joined because of this? You and me, I mean. Not me and the snake, because that’s obviously permanent.”

  With a grin, he covered her mouth with his palm and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Welcome back, chère. I’m sure you’re gonna have lots of fun playing around with your DNA. It should keep you occupied enough so that I don’t have to worry about waking up with chocolate-flavored balls.”

  She barked out a laugh against his hand. This was real. She was alive. Changed, but alive. And, to be strictly honest, she was more than thrilled with the changes in her genetics. She matched Striker now. They were a pair. Just like their rattlers. No wonder he’d laughed at
the matching tattoo idea. They had something far better than that; they had matching animals. She turned in his hold and threw her arms around his neck.

  “I’m alive!”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “And I have my very own snake. How cool is that?”

  “Super cool,” he laughed.

  “I have a snake!” she shouted excitedly, and laughter echoed back up through the caves to tell her the team had heard.

  “Oh.” She wriggled from his hold and reached down to pet the diamondback. “We need to think of a name for my diamondback.”

  “I’ll get right on that,” Striker said drolly, as he picked up his other half and headed for the closet in the corner.

  “Where are you going? What are you doing with Sam?”

  “Getting rid of the audience.” He threw the hissing snake into the closet and slammed the door. He stalked back toward her, his eyes filled with molten heat that melted her insides. “You can name your snake later. Right now, you have other things to do.”

  “Like what?” she teased.

  He flashed a sexy smile. “Like anything I want, anytime I want it. We have a deal, remember?”

  “Oh yes.” She nodded solemnly. “I would never shirk on a deal. What exactly do you want, Luke Boudreaux?”

  He clasped the nape of her neck and pulled her to him.

  “You, Friday Jones. I want you.”

  Epilogue

  It took two months to organize the covert trip to New Zealand’s research facility, where Friday’s data chips were removed, something that made her incredibly relieved.

  “You ready for this, bébé?” Striker wrapped an arm around her shoulder as she stood staring at the monitors Hunter had set up in the main cavern. Now that they were back in the Red Zone, it was time to see exactly what was stored on her chip.

  “Absolutely.” She kissed his throat because, even though he didn’t show it, she knew he worried about her. “I want to know what we’re dealing with.”

  “That’s my girl.” He tipped her face up to kiss her lips.

  She would never get used to his kisses. They were like chocolate, diamonds, sunsets, and silk all wrapped up into one. They were priceless.

  “Will you two give it a rest,” Mace complained. “You make me want to vomit.”

  “Have at it.” Striker grinned at his friend. “Make sure to clean up when you’re done.”

  “Asshole.”

  “I hear that a lot,” he said drolly, making her laugh.

  His diamondback was always telling him he was an ass. She traced over the image of her own snake. It was growing nicely as it slept, and she couldn’t wait to meet it. The image of the diamondback made her feel like she belonged. Like she was really part of the team. Of the family. The feeling made her giddy. Instead of dying, she’d been blessed with everything she’d always wanted. Some days she couldn’t quite believe just how much love was in her life now. She wrapped her arms around her husband’s waist and hugged him tight. He kissed her hair. Striker knew exactly what she felt about her “second life.”

  “Right, here we go.” Hunter grinned over his shoulder at the rest of the team. “Should we look at this in private first, Friday? Are we gonna see some stuff you’d rather we didn’t share with the team?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  There were chuckles, but she was lost. “Like what? Sex? I only do that with Striker.”

  The laughter increased.

  “Let’s keep it that way,” her husband grumbled.

  “Right, here we go.” Hunter tapped at his old-fashioned keyboard. “We’re going to speed through the twenty-four-hour period before Friday stupidly dosed herself with poison.”

  Striker’s hand flew out, and he cuffed Hunter across the back of his head.

  “That hurt,” their tech guru grumbled, but his focus stayed on the screen.

  There was silence as the team watched her former life inside CommTECH. She didn’t speak to anyone, she simply focused on her work. The sight made her shift uneasily, ashamed that everyone could see exactly how pathetic her old life had been.

  “You’re not that woman anymore,” her husband whispered, making her wonder, yet again, if he could read her mind.

  She smiled her thanks and held him closer.

  “That’s the fourth nutrition bar you’ve eaten,” Mace pointed out. “Your diet has improved dramatically since you’ve been here.”

  “I’m still waiting for my lobster, though,” she reminded him, to the team’s amusement.

  The man mountain shook his head, but there was a smile on his face.

  Her focus went back to the screen, which showed an empty corridor behind the data pad in her hand. She’d been hurrying, rushing to get back to her work, and going over her research notes while she walked. Her whole life revolved around her job, to the point where she used to sneak back into work when she wasn’t even supposed to be there. It made her even more grateful that things had changed.

  Striker’s body stiffened against hers. “Go back,” he ordered. “Then take us forward, slowly.”

  Friday held her breath as they watched the slow-motion footage. They saw everything through her eyes, as though they were inside her head with her on that day. She was focused on her data pad, and then suddenly the view became blurred. She’d stumbled over her own feet. When the image came into focus again, she no longer looked down at her data pad. Instead, she’d glanced to the right—straight at a group of people meeting in the lower level conference room.

  “Freeze that,” Striker snapped.

  She sucked in a breath at the image in front of her. A murmur of shock rippled through the team. On the screen were the four most powerful leaders in the world—Ju-Long Lee, Serge Abramovich, Sandrine Cherbourg, and Miriam Shepherd. They were smiling and shaking hands with two other people. Miriam held out a credit chip toward one of the other men, and Friday shook when she recognized him. Arnold James, one of the three leaders of the Freedom organization. The image changed slightly as Hunter walked it to the next frame. The last unknown man in the image grinned as he slapped Ju-Long on the shoulder. It was Matías Delagado, president of Bolivia and the unofficial leader of the Coalition Countries.

  Friday staggered back a step, felt the chair behind her hit the back of her knees, and sat down with a thump. Striker placed his hand on her shoulder.

  “We got sound with this?” His voice was harsh. She liked to think of it as his commander mode.

  “Yeah, but that’s a different file. The data chips were damaged a little, and the files aren’t running simultaneously like they should do. Give me a minute.”

  She reached up, took hold of her husband’s hand, and held it tight. He caressed her hair, letting her know she wasn’t alone. She’d never be alone again.

  “Right, here it is.” Hunter played the audio, but it was too low to hear, telling her that she’d picked it up in the background but hadn’t consciously listened to the conversation. “Wait, let me enhance it.”

  The images on the screen were mesmerizing. This was the reason half the world was after her. The reason she’d almost died. All because of this. One split second where she’d seen something she shouldn’t have and heard something she hadn’t even realized she’d heard.

  “Okay, here goes,” Hunter said, and then Miriam Shepherd’s voice filled the room.

  “I don’t want any mistakes, Arnold,” she told the leader of the rebellion group.

  “Don’t worry. There won’t be any. Not for this much credit.” He laughed.

  “Make sure you get the prototype,” a male said.

  “Of course.” Arnold sounded smug. “Your new chip won’t be worth much if the competition still has their prototype. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure it all goes up in smoke.”

  “We need to talk about ladmium output,” another female voice said—Sandrine. “We need to increase production to meet the market demands in time.”

  “Especially seeing as we’re guaranteed a monopoly
in the market once our friend here gets done blowing crap up.” A male voice sounded amused.

  “Serge!” Miriam reprimanded.

  “The ladmium needs to be refined before use,” a new voice said.

  “There’s no time. We’ll use it as is.”

  “Then the chips will be compromised.”

  “But the profit won’t.” There was more laughter.

  The voices faded as Friday had obviously moved out of range of the meeting.

  There was silence in the Red Zone cavern.

  “They’re going to implant faulty data chips,” Ignacio said. “They’re willingly endangering people.”

  “And Freedom is helping.” She felt ill at the thought. “Without their competitor’s product, everyone will jump at updating to the new implants from CommTECH.” She felt herself pale as she looked up at Striker. “People will die. You have no idea how dangerous unrefined ladmium can be. We have to do something. We can’t let this happen.”

  “No,” he said. “We can’t.”

  And then he kissed her and took all the worry from her head.

  For now.

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  Acknowledgments

  With special thanks to my agent, Nalini Akolekar,

  and my editor, Candace Havens.

  About the Author

  Janet is a Scot who moved to New Zealand fifteen years ago. Among other things, she’s been an artist, a teacher, a security guard at a castle, a magazine editor, and a cleaner in a drop-in center for drug addicts (NOT the best job!). She now writes full-time and, so far, has written eighteen books. When she isn’t living in her head, she raises two kids, one husband, and several random animals. She survives on chocolate and caffeine.

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