Last Strike

by Regan Black

  “Then how can you be sure he won’t die?”

  “Because I know him.” Noah D’Cruz had arrived in her lab bloody and battered, with wounds far worse than these. Once she’d stabilized him, she and her team started work immediately. Having read his Marine service record, she’d tried to spare him as much of the inevitable agony as possible. Not that he’d ever believe her.

  If she hadn’t pushed his systems to the brink in those early days, he never would’ve survived the later trials she’d argued against. Her part in his pain and his unfortunately outstanding results still stung, regardless of what he said. He remembered things he shouldn’t have and rightly held her responsible for that suffering. She told herself it was enough that she knew there was still a flicker of integrity and compassion inside her.

  As both his former and current selves, the man on that bed was too stubborn to let a dirty fight send him to the grave. She wished he’d remember that and wake up.

  She moved away from his bedside before she did something rude and punched him.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said, assuming Ben was still close enough to hear her.

  “You’re welcome. I didn’t expect them to try and drug him.”

  “They can’t afford to let him go.”

  “Not any of us,” Ben agreed.

  The words were delivered right at her ear and she jumped, instinctively moving away from the sound and ripple of air.

  “End Game 2.0 is a new kind of vicious,” Ben mused.

  As if she hadn’t seen that for herself.

  “They showed up awful quick,” Ben said. “You think they tagged your big bad boyfriend with the nano-tracker upgrade? It has a longer range.”

  Noah. She barely kept herself from screaming the correction at the invisible agent. Double agent. Ben. Perfectly camouflaged or not, he deserved to be referred to by name as much as Noah did. “It’s possible.” If it was true, they needed to test it.

  “Do you know what new enhancements Dr. Gerardi was working on?”

  “With Gerardi each project is uglier than the last.”

  She interpreted that as a yes, envisioning Ben’s casual shrug, though she hadn’t ever seen the man. “Do you know?” she pressed.

  “In layman’s terms.” Ben made soft, derisive noise. “He’s been working on an anti-emotional component since they lost Bulletproof to his reporter target.”

  “It’s not enough to train or trick the humanity out of good men?”

  “I’m not a philosopher.” Ben sent the air rippling as he moved closer to Noah’s head. “Messenger hadn’t sent him anywhere near a lab until he sent him after you.”

  The words offered no balm for her guilt complex. Not that she deserved any sort of forgiveness or compassion. The faces of the patients who didn’t make it marched along behind her closed eyelids, followed by the numerous men and women who’d survived.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to keep the useless words tucked away.

  “I’ve never been happier,” Ben chirped. “And this guy,” the mattress sagged under Ben’s weight, “he looks all fierce. Don’t let that fool you. Deep down under that gruff and deadly exterior is a man who loves his job.”

  She shivered. Noah’s job was killing people. And he loved it because the program enhancements had capitalized on his inherent skill set and stripped away his humanity for the sole purpose of fulfilling UI’s shady goals. The program had turned Noah into a deadly weapon, a tool capable of strategic thought, loyal to Messenger’s commands.

  She looked once more at the syringe Ben had recovered. Based on what she’d seen, it was easy to conclude it was a sedative to make it easier to bring Noah back into the program. It wasn’t smart to take anything from UI at face value. A lab analysis would be helpful, though there wasn’t time. She handed Ben the vials of blood she’d drawn after mending Noah.

  “You need to go before he wakes up.”

  “I can’t leave you alone. What if he’s back to his old self?”

  She’d felt Noah’s arms around her, felt his heart hammering under his cheek while they’d rolled across Gerardi’s lawn. If he’d wanted to kill her he could’ve crushed her rather than cradling her as though she were some priceless treasure. “I’ll be fine.” She patted the bag Ben had brought her. “I have ketamine if he gets nasty.”

  “Doc, if he gets nasty you won’t have time to blink, much less jab him with a needle.”

  “Go on,” she insisted. “If he realizes you helped me draw blood he’ll consider it cause to kill us both.” The man hated needles that much.

  Ben’s rather odd laughter raised the hair at the back of her neck. “He could try.”

  The air rippled again and for just an instant, she thought she saw the outline of the man himself rather than the chameleon power he used to hide from the world. “Based on what I saw his mission’s changed, Doc.” The door opened. “Lock up behind me, I’ll do what I can to keep them off your tail.”

  The door closed before she could utter a ‘thank you’. She hurried over to throw the deadbolt and slide the chain in place. The precaution felt inadequate against Messenger’s new assassin. After Ben’s warning maybe locking herself in with the original model was an exercise in stupidity.

  Tucked into a motel near the airport, they were as safe as possible for now. If the UI tracker was in Noah’s blood, as she suspected, rather than an implanted beacon, Messenger and his new assassin would soon be following a few wild geese right into a trap, thanks to Ben.

  She leaned back against the door and stared at Noah. He looked almost content, his face relaxed, all those muscles of his big body at ease. When he did come around, he’d probably be furious over the way she and Ben had handled things. Now that Amelia and John had everything she’d gathered through the years, Daria had been willing to die for the cause, trusting them to follow through with the exposure of UI.

  Why had Noah been compelled to save her when he’d been assigned to kill her? Something had changed in that house when Messenger got close to him. She hadn’t seen anything in his file or on his body that indicated he could be controlled. It had to be conditioning, a facet of his training they kept off the books. But he’d fought it off, gone against the man he’d once considered his salvation.

  His muscles tensed, his eyebrows knitting. A nightmare or reaction to the fight they’d just survived? Moving back to his side, she smoothed a cool cloth over his forehead until the scowl eased and he relaxed again.

  “Come on, Noah. Wake up. Talk to me.”

  When he didn’t obey, she opened her laptop and made better use of the time than wallowing in this sticky mire of fear and hope. She’d deciphered plenty of records. If there was anything in Noah’s case she’d overlooked, now was the time to find it.

  For his future as well as her own.

  * * *

  Noah dragged himself out of the darkness into a gray, dim room. He sat up, regretting the quick movement as his head reeled and his ribs protested.

  “You’re safe. Relax.”

  The angel’s voice. “Daria?” He blinked away the cobwebs of sleep and pain and saw her sitting in the chair next to the bed. His... what? He stared at her, trying to remember the term that came next. His target? No. His woman? Yes, please.

  Right. That was as likely as the devil serving ice cream in hell. He scrubbed a hand across his chest, catching a fresh line of stitches. “What’s this?”

  “Do you remember the fight?”

  It was coming back fast. “We were at Gerardi’s place. As a diversion.”

  “Yes.” Her soft smile drew his gaze, held it.

  He remembered bright sunlight stinging his eyes. Remembered the blood lust and facing off against a violent opponent. “Messenger replaced me.”

  Her smile faded. “Yes.”

  “They used me.” Scattered pieces of it were floating around, an unfinished puzzle in his head. “Tracked me. Bulletproof was right. Something in my enhancement is trackable.”
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  “I don’t believe it’s a device we can remove,” she said, her eyebrows puckered in thought.

  There was more, something she wasn’t saying and his mind refused to examine. Fear reared up, clogging his throat. Fear for her. Fear for his life had stopped being an issue long ago. A man had to care about his life to fear for it.

  “What did I do?” His mind wasn’t giving him the whole story. “Tell me,” he rasped. “I hurt you didn’t I?”

  “No. We were ambushed by Messenger and his new cleaner.”

  He pushed himself out of bed and walked on shaky legs to the narrow window. Moving the curtain, he confirmed they’d returned to the minimal protection of the airport. Why weren’t they tucked into Bulletproof’s safe house? Only one reason: they didn’t trust him anymore. “Messenger told me to finish you.” He was a threat to both sides, with no home, no hope.

  “I assume so. You’ll notice that you didn’t.”

  He dropped the curtain on the twilight outside. Messenger had a hold over him. Some power he’d either ignored or been oblivious to. He couldn’t take the chance that he’d complete his assignment. “You need to get far away from me.” He gave her his back. She needed to leave but he didn’t have to watch her go.

  “It wasn’t mind control, Noah. Not a genetic adjustment,” she added.

  That was no comfort. “Great,” he muttered. “I’m naturally weak. Easily influenced.” He supposed at this point it hardly mattered. His mistakes would get her killed eventually.

  Her spurt of laughter grated like sandpaper against his skin. “At best it’s hypnosis theory. You resisted the order.” He heard her moving closer to him. “You’re the strongest man I know, mentally and physically.”

  The words burned when her breath brushed his bare shoulder. “Not anymore.” He felt helpless as a kitten around her and no match for Messenger’s new pet.

  “How did you get me out of there?”

  “There were friends standing by.”

  “Chameleon.”

  “His name is Ben, he was invaluable. And John sent us someone I’d never met. They managed to get us out of harm’s way so I could treat your injuries.”

  “You have to leave. I’ll turn myself in. It’s what he wants. The others will get you out.”

  “Noah.” Her small palms smoothed across his shoulders, soothed all his rough, scorched edges. “I’m not giving you back to him.”

  “It’s where I belong.” He resisted the urge to press closer, to shift those small hands to the places he ached for her touch. It would be obnoxious to turn around and strip off her clothes, just for the glorious warmth of skin on skin contact. That kind of move would only prove his selfish nature. He hadn’t been a monk all these years. As Last Strike, he’d hired women purely for the release. Those rare encounters had been functional, not personal. Despite his failings, he wanted a personal connection with Daria. Unfortunately that connection would eventually destroy her. “It’s true,” he grumbled. “I can’t protect you if Messenger can climb into my head any time.”

  “Following his orders is conditioning, not genetic manipulation,” she assured him. “You didn’t obey blindly. You defended yourself when you were attacked.”

  Of course she would know that wasn’t protocol. “You’re sure?” That didn’t sound right.

  “Yes. I watched it happen.”

  He remembered drawing blood, reveling in the scent. He knew some things couldn’t be unseen. His thirst for destruction had to offend her. If she’d watched him fight in that violent, ice-cold state, why the hell was she still here?

  He fingered the stitches he could reach. “Thank you for caring for me.” He could feel the heat of her body as she leaned into his back. “You can’t stay. I’m too dangerous.” He couldn’t bear if it he had to watch her die - or worse - watch UI torture her if they caught her. When. Capture was inevitable.

  She shifted and the cool air whispered between their bodies. “I think I can break his ability to track you.”

  He rounded on her abruptly, bumping her with his oversized shoulder. On an annoyed curse, he quickly reached out to steady her. But she didn’t stay at arm’s length. She never would, he realized, far too late to do the right thing and dodge her. His honor, going unused for years, was out of practice. Daria slipped close and wrapped herself around him, a faint smile on her lips and hope gleaming in those deep, brown eyes.

  She bent her head and kissed his chest, on either side of the cross necklace, and squeezed him a bit tighter. His angel. As much as he wanted her close, he had to send her away, far from his darkness.

  “It’s a matter of fight or flight,” she said, her voice soft.

  Definitely. He needed to fly away from her. His arms hung loose from his shoulders, not quite touching her where his body had a choice. He couldn’t wrap her up as he wanted to, he might crush her. Besides she might get the wrong idea that he could protect her. That clearly wasn’t true.

  “Doctor,” he began, regretting how the words made her flinch. He’d hurt her no matter what he did. The sane choice was putting this back in perspective. “We don’t have much time to arrange new protection for you.”

  She tipped her head up to stare at him, a small frown drawing her golden eyebrows together. “New protection? Why?”

  He nodded. For a smart woman, she was being a fool to cling to him. “I’m a risk to you.”

  “Yes.”

  The single word lacked fear. She sounded dazed, dazzled to his ears. A residual effect of the blow to his head. Just when he’d pulled himself together enough to seize on her unexpected agreement, she started talking again.

  “Not in the way you’re thinking.” Her small hands ran up and down his sides, his arms, before she laced her fingers with his. “Fight or flight, as I said. With you, they put the tracker into your adrenal system. I found the notes a couple of hours ago. I believe I can counter it.”

  It had to be another outrageous, medical claim. Nonsense she was making up to ease his concerns. The question slipped past his lips anyway. “How?” He was desperate to believe her. Believe in her.

  “We’d have to go to the lab to be sure.” She squeezed his hands. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t like needles.”

  She winced, making him regret the admission. “What about before the UI program?”

  How would he know? His first life was little more than a fog with the occasional break to reveal… nothing of much importance. He started to shake his head again and stopped. “I was afraid of water. I think.” Maybe he’d been afraid of everything, though that didn’t feel right either.

  Her brown eyes went round in her lovely face. “But your name...” she smothered a giggle. “You joined the Marines.”

  He shrugged a shoulder, trying not to bask in the admiration in her gaze. “I guess if it’s true, I didn’t let it hold me back.”

  Her lips parted and he battled the urge, the need, to kiss her again. What would she say if he told her she was his only fear now? He feared he couldn’t keep her alive. Feared he wouldn’t keep his hands off her. Feared the horrendous fallout if he let her get any closer.

  She cleared her throat. “Based on what just happened, on your reactions and responses, I believe if I overload your adrenal system, your body will fry the tracking factor.”

  She thought it was body chemistry? He wasn’t a brilliant researcher like her, but he wasn’t an idiot. And losing the tracker wouldn’t change Messenger’s hold over him. He’d lived through their testing, survived their vote to put him down and made something of his life anyway. Something ugly was still something.

  He didn’t appreciate the concept that his willing, murderous service to the cold bastard boiled down to conditioning. Mind control wasn’t any more palatable. Either cause put this woman at risk. He wouldn’t tolerate it, not after seeing himself through her eyes. That had been a gift, definitely the best and last he’d ever receive. He meant to honor
it.

  “Preventing UI from tracking me doesn’t change what I am.” However he’d come to the program, or the lies they’d told him, it didn’t change the things he’d done for Messenger. She deserved a better man. A small voice in his head protested as he reclaimed his hands, put as much distance as possible between them. “What I’ve done.” He wished to hell he remembered a useful detail from his past. If he’d ever had a trustworthy friend who might be persuaded to give her shelter, it wouldn’t be enough. UI knew more about his past than he did. Any friends would be investigated. He understood UI’s resources better than anyone else, not counting that damned chameleon, Ben.

  “The past is done, Noah. I want to give you a future.”

  The quiet conviction in her voice gave him more comfort than his actions and choices warranted. “Contact Ben,” he said through gritted teeth. “He’ll know someone who can help you hide.”

  “Ben is busy.”

  Busy? Her safety should trump any other concerns. If Ben didn’t realize that... Damn it. Who could he count on? “Not too busy to haul me here.”

  “Well, no. I sent him away before you woke up.”

  “You were alone while I was unconscious?” Dread for her, raw and terrible, clawed at his gut, searching for a way out. Foolish woman, she came closer again. They could have captured her anytime and he would’ve been helpless to defend her.

  “Even if the worst happened, Amelia has everything I gathered to break UI wide open.”

  He couldn’t find a sensible response. Another step and the warm sunlight of her hair would be within his reach.

  “Ben is testing my theory about their tracking method.”

  He slumped to the edge of the bed, his stomach churning at the idea of her testing on him again. “You took more blood.”

  That stopped her advance. He was grateful to learn something could.

  “To help you,” she said. “To protect us. Noah, what UI did to you -”

  “I compounded their actions,” he interrupted. “Enhancements or conditioning, I had the free will to choose how I executed Messenger’s orders.”