Last Strike

by Regan Black

  “And?” she prompted. If that was true, why did he resent his real name? “Didn’t you recognize yourself?”

  He faced her again, his gaze hot and angry. “No. I signed the forms anyway. Volunteered to be your guinea pig.”

  There was more, she could see it lurking in his pale, furious eyes. “They didn’t give you the option to leave, did they?”

  “No, Daria. No good options for me.” He crushed each word in that low, graveled voice. “My choices were join your lab or... or nothing.”

  Nothing? Not a chance. They’d threatened him, or someone dear to him. Except he’d had amnesia. What leverage had they used? “Did they show you your service record?”

  He nodded. “It wasn’t any more familiar than my name.”

  She went back to the table, sat down, and opened her laptop. “You could take another look. It might jog something free after all this time.”

  “No!” He reached around her and shut the computer. “One trip through that hell was more than enough.”

  He’d trapped her hand between his hot palm and the cool device. The contact left her sizzling, but his reaction worried her. Hell? “You were a hero, Noah.”

  His lip curled. “You’re serious?” His gaze narrowed, studying every feature, lingering on her lips again. “You really believe it. And you call me damaged.”

  The UI recruiters had lied to him. How naïve of her to believe otherwise. “You were a hero,” she repeated, hating her employers for stealing so much from Noah and so many others. She wanted to retreat from that hard gaze, wanted to tuck herself close to that harder body. Quickly clearing that image out of her head, she remembered this was about him. She’d thought to restore him once, this time she wouldn’t fail. Catching his hand between both of hers, she held on tight, hoping the physical contact would startle him enough that he’d listen.

  “You came in before all the documentation was worked out. I have your original service record. I studied it when you were brought in, hoping find something that would give you a reason to live. I took extensive notes.”

  He shook his head, his eyebrows puckering in a skeptical frown, though he didn’t pull his hand away.

  “Noah D’Cruz, youngest son of career missionaries. Joined the Marines and advanced with honors. Your helicopter was shot down during a rescue mission. Despite life-threatening injuries, you protected the others, watched over them for more than thirty hours until backup arrived. Does any of that sound familiar?”

  He shook his head, his strange eyes blank.

  “I didn’t think so.” Anger blasted through her. It had never made sense why this man had refused to go home to a family that loved him.

  “They said... I did it.” His face blanched. “Said I snapped during a mission and downed the chopper. Said they could use a man with my skills and natural instincts.”

  “What?” She suddenly felt murderous. “Oh, no. I’m not spending another day keeping their secrets.” She pushed his hand away and opened her laptop.

  “How can you be sure your version is accurate?”

  “Because I was with you at the start. I listened while you ranted during the worst of those early days. I cross-referenced the names you repeated while your body and mind debated between life and death.”

  “You gave me the cross necklace.”

  She shook her head absently, searching for his file, pulling up the directories that she’d hidden away. “You arrived with it. It was the only personal item I could salvage.” On a gut instinct, she’d pocketed it rather than leave it with the other personal effects UI had destroyed as effectively as they’d destroyed his soul.

  He undid the top two buttons of his shirt and showed her the hard wooden cross she’d felt while pleading with him in her kitchen. An unstoppable assassin who wore a cross. Her mind boggled and she struggled to force it back to the task at hand.

  “You’re saying it’s mine. From my past?”

  “Yes.” Warily, she gazed up at him. “If you didn’t know, why wear it?” It seemed at odds with the unwavering loyalty Messenger demanded and his long-held anger with her.

  “I wear it to remind me of you.” His jaw was set hard enough to crack. She knew it wasn’t a compliment. “I wear it so I remember that evil can wear the face of an angel.”

  The words were as shocking as a bucket of ice water in her face. He’d been manipulated, inside and out, and from his perspective it made sense. She released her grip on his hand and rubbed at the tension in her neck. He’d listened. What he believed was up to him.

  She’d never forgive herself for her blind faith and all-ahead charge into the UI program. Never forgive herself for causing him and others pain, though she’d been assured the memories from treatment would be suppressed. That hadn’t been her expertise. Messenger had lied to everyone. Or he’d purposely made sure Noah remembered those terrible days.

  The honorable son of missionaries wore a cross to fuel his hatred of her. Oh, she deserved everything he wanted to dish out. Probably more.

  They’d both been used in violent, terrible ways that no apology would ever correct. She had to get this information out there, though it meant exposing herself as a key player in the UI program. She’d been too conservative with the little bits and pieces she’d shared with Ben so far. Protecting the next generation from well-meaning scientists like her was her only way to make amends. She was okay with dying to make that possible. “I want to stop Messenger and the Unknown Identities plans,” she said.

  He moved around the table and laid his hands on her shoulders, worked his strong thumbs into the tension she’d been carrying around for years. Since she’d understood what they’d made of him, in fact. He was going to snap her neck. A quick, painless way to go. Surprised by his show of compassion, she was grateful. She’d welcome it, she just wanted to send out these files first.

  She opened her mouth to ask when she realized he wasn’t doling out pain, only quiet relief. He systematically concentrated on each knot in her muscles, one by one until her neck was limber and relaxed. His touch was a gift she accepted greedily, knowing she didn’t deserve it. His hands stilled at last and she breathed him in, content that at some point in the near future, he would be her last, good thought.

  “You’re sure your version is right?”

  His uncertainty undid her. “Yes.” She could tell him about the evidence she’d compiled and secreted away. About the brief instructions she’d left for Ben, just in case UI caught her.

  As they had. “The details are here on my laptop.” She tapped the device. “I’ll give you the passwords and you can confirm everything.”

  “All right.” His hands stroked up her neck, his fingers combing through her hair, lifting it and letting it sift down, for long luxurious minutes.

  She tried to imagine what he might be thinking, but his touch blurred her ability to focus and assess. A thoughtful assassin. That kind of impossible result had never entered her mind.

  “What was your initial intention with UI?”

  “To empower our troops. Protect them in the field.”

  “After discovering that was a lie you stayed.”

  Her choices had been as much of an illusion as his. “So did you,” she countered. She’d been working double-time for and against the program, though she didn’t have any hard evidence to convince him of her intentions.

  “True.” He urged her up and out of the chair. “Come here.” He turned her into his big body, an arm wrapped snug at her low back. With his other hand, he gently held her head to his chest.

  His heart thudded loud and steady beneath her ear. “Are you hugging me?”

  “It feels that way.”

  It felt amazing to be surrounded by his heat and strength. What was wrong with her that she felt so safe in the arms of a killer she’d inadvertently helped design? “Why?” Maybe he’d finally snapped. Or maybe he hugged all his victims and no one knew because they died before they could talk.

  “Because I’d rat
her kiss you.”

  She flinched at that declaration and his arms fell away instantly. “Pardon?”

  He frowned, his chin jerking in a curt nod of approval. “You’re appalled by the idea.” He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. Stepped away from her. “Good.”

  “I’m startled, not appalled.” She closed the distance and slid her arms around his trim waist while his hands stayed tucked out of sight. “I wondered if you hugged all your victims,” she admitted, watching his pale eyes.

  “No.” He met her gaze, letting her stare and wonder and make more guesses about who he’d become. “I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you, Daria.”

  The sudden rush of relief left her lightheaded and trembling. Noah caught her arms, holding her steady.

  “I won’t blow smoke with any guarantees of your safety,” he said, “but I’ll do what I can to put you out of Messenger’s reach.”

  “Thank you, N-”

  He silenced her with a kiss. Not a gentle touch or hesitant exploration, but a bruising, near-punishing capture of her mouth. She clutched at the hard muscles of his back, breathed in the musky scent of him. Kissing him back, matching his desperate need for contact, she moaned at the desire sparking through her system.

  How could he think she’d be appalled by anything about him? What he did, how he did it wasn’t anything related to the wounded, heroic Marine UI had buried under lies and enhancements. She pressed up on her toes, searching for a way to get closer still. Him, she wanted him with every beat of her pulse.

  His hands shaped her hips and boosted her up until she could wrap her legs around his lean hips. Her body melted against his hard muscles. Melted more when his lips parted and she got her first taste of him. His tongue was rough velvet against hers. It was all too easy to imagine his mouth and tongue in other, more sensitive places.

  His mouth shifted, cruising over her jaw and down the column of her throat. Back up to take her mouth again. And again. She slid her hand into his open shirt, his skin hot under her fingertips. She bit back his name, dancing on the tip of her tongue, afraid the sound would startle him back to their disquieting reality.

  “Well, well. End Game’s got some moves.”

  Ben. She wanted to scream in frustration as Noah’s mouth lifted away from hers. She dropped her head to Noah’s hard shoulder. “Go away.” In her sensual haze the command lacked power. “Go away, Ben,” she repeated with more force.

  She clung as Noah tried to set her on her feet. She didn’t care about Ben’s opinion. She cared about returning to the glorious distraction of Noah’s sexy, sinful touch.

  “That’s one way to buy an extra life, Doc.”

  She glared in the direction of Ben’s voice. Linking her hand with Noah’s, she lifted her gaze to him. “That wasn’t what happened.”

  He shrugged a broad shoulder, but she could tell the idea had been planted. Just like a weed, it would take root and choke out the flicker of humanity she’d seen deep in his pale eyes.

  “How’d you get in?” she asked Ben.

  “I have the code,” he said in his typically unhelpful manner. “You could pretend to be happy I didn’t go boom with the rest of your house.”

  “I am.” Of course she was. Her body had more tempting things to focus on right this second.

  “Maybe you’ll be happier knowing I brought your go bag and some supplies.”

  “Are they as invisible as you?” Noah asked, crossing his arms.

  “Look who has a sense of humor. They’re downstairs. Be a good dog and go fetch.”

  “Stop it.” She took a cautious step toward Ben’s voice. “Did you get that wound treated?”

  “Don’t start worrying about me now, Doc. Comes off a little false,” Ben said in a stage whisper. “I’ve taken the liberty of sending out a preliminary report,” he added in his normal voice. A chair scraped away from the table and tipped back, balanced perfectly on two legs. “Just in case your boy-toy here decided to obey his master and silence you permanently.”

  She saw through Ben’s attempt to pester Noah. “You knew he wouldn’t do that. Not after what happened at the house.” With or without that kiss, she believed Noah would keep his word.

  The chair dropped back to four legs. “Didn’t seem smart to ignore a highly probable risk.”

  In her experience, Ben was often more crazy than sane, but he wasn’t stupid. He couldn’t care enough to have learned Noah’s real history, or her irrevocable contribution to his tormented present.

  “So you’re just planning to use her before you lose her, End Game?”

  “Watch it, Chameleon.” Noah shifted, pulling her under the shelter of his arm. “We aren’t your business.”

  We. That small word had a nice ring to it. Aside from her less than predictable acquaintance with Ben, she hadn’t been part of a ‘we’ since she graduated medical school.

  “Actually, you are my business, End Game. Messenger called me in and gave me carte blanche to hunt down you and your new crush.”

  She braced, putting herself between Ben’s voice and Noah’s body. Not for the first time, she marveled at her foolishness for trusting a wild card like Ben. Just because she hadn’t seen another option didn’t mean she should’ve stopped looking. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Gonna let the little doctor fight your battles?” Ben taunted. “How sweet that her attachment for you hasn’t faded since she saved your sorry ass the first time.”

  “Ben, enough,” Daria said, trying for a calm, friendly tone. “Think about what we’ve talked about, what you want from this too.”

  “No worries, Doc. I always look out for me. Being invisible, I’m the only one who can.”

  “Messenger didn’t send him,” Noah said, his rusty voice sending a chill down her spine. “Or if he did, that’s not why he’s here.”

  Ben laughed, the eerie sound scraping at her nerves. “You’re right, mon ami. I’m here negotiating the next step because I’m untraceable.”

  “A fancy way of saying you’re working both sides along with Bulletproof,” Noah said. “What’s the offer?”

  Chapter Five

  “What are you two talking about?” Daria whispered.

  Her tension radiated through Noah in waves, just as her desire had moments ago. He waited for Chameleon to give her an answer.

  “Bulletproof went rogue,” she said, her voice clogged with unshed tears. “They eliminated him late last year.”

  “Don’t worry, Doc. Being dead didn’t exactly take,” Chameleon said gleefully. “His scar’s almost gone.”

  Noah wanted to kill the invisible man for being a jerk, but he figured that wouldn’t earn him any more kisses from Daria. And for the first time in years, he wanted something more than a dead body in his win column.

  She knew he was a monster, had heard what he’d done through the years and she’d kissed him anyway. Even after he started it. She should’ve shoved him away, washed her mouth out with soap. Instead, she’d kissed him back. Was she as crazy as her invisible friend?

  He knew Chameleon was trying to agitate him. He’d always been that way. Daria’s kisses had nothing to do with survival tactics or buying extra time. He’d felt her resigned acceptance when she’d been sure he’d kill her. Although she might be disappointed about dying sooner than she’d hoped, he knew she didn’t fear death. It made little difference. Messenger would eventually catch up with them, demand why he hadn’t followed through on the kill order. Unfortunately for all of them, Noah was sure he wanted to keep her alive.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Long enough to admire the way you prep a target,” Chameleon gloated.

  “Bulletproof is really alive?” Daria asked.

  “Yes.” Noah glared in Chameleon’s direction when the other man answered too. “Messenger suspected as much.”

  “It was the serial killer case in Boston, right?” The chair rocked back again, the front legs hanging in the air as the invisibl
e Chameleon balanced perfectly. “I told him to be careful, but Amelia follows every lead.”

  “Amelia Bennett didn’t die either?”

  “Pretty cool, right?” Chameleon said. “I helped on that one. Kept UI chasing other leads.”

  “The serial killer was a washout,” Noah explained to Daria. No sense hiding the details. “He escaped the institution where we keep most of the unhinged.”

  “Aww.” The chair clunked to the floor, then leaned back again. “Don’t try and flatter me now, End Game.”

  “His name is Noah,” Daria corrected sharply.

  An odd, not entirely unpleasant feeling came over him when she leaped to defend him, to give him a real name and a spark of humanity. Her body was small and her effort insignificant in the greater scheme of things, but he appreciated the effort.

  Although he’d vilified her due to circumstances neither of them could control, he was starting to recall why he’d first considered her an angel. The cross on his chest felt warm and light rather than the cold burden it had been all these years.

  “Bulletproof brought us to his hideout for what exactly?”

  “Information. The doc was going to hand it all over to me before you showed up,” Chameleon said.

  “If I hadn’t shown up, she’d be at Gerardi’s mercy. Who knows what he had in mind for her,” Noah said.

  “Gerardi.” Chameleon’s voice sounded wistful as his chair slammed back to the polished concrete floor. “I want to take a run at that creaky old bastard. I’m due a fun night out.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Noah said, smothering the odd flare of camaraderie with the crazy Chameleon. Gerardi had been in charge of the invisible agent’s alterations. Noah had overheard plenty about the test subject and the various challenging results during the visits to that lab.

  “Boys,” Daria scolded. “What’s next? We can’t stay here and wait to be found.”

  “Of course not. We’ll all toddle home whenever we please,” Chameleon said. “Unless End Game here is pulling the strings.”