by Devyn Quinn
Callie glared at him through narrowed eyes. “If you have to get your fucking rocks off, Roger, hurry up. I’m cold.”
Snorting a chuckle, Roger grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. Fingers digging into the back of her neck like iron bands, he pushed her face against the hood. “That’s my girl. I know what you like. The more painful it is, the better you like it.”
Not when it comes with getting the shit beaten out of me.
Roger tugged her pants down. “Ready to be fucked right, honey?” His zipper came down and he aligned his hips with hers. A hot pulsing cock pressed intently against her ass.
She braced her palms against the hood. “Go head and knock off a piece if it’ll make you feel like a man.”
Roger chuckled evilly. His legs pressed against hers. “That and more, baby.”
The blood emptied from Callie’s head, rushing straight to her clit with a mind-spinning speed. The small organ pulsed with new sensitivity. A lover of rough sex, she moaned raggedly.
A knowing chuckle. “I know how you like it.” Roger’s stance shifted, the thick round head of his cock brushing through her labia.
Callie fought to pull her scattered thoughts together. “Then do it,” she snarled back.
“With pleasure.” Roger jammed his cock in deep, one long and painful stroke of pure invasion, forcing himself as deep as physically possible.
Nipples tightening, Callie felt every thought in her skull evaporate. Jaw muscles straining against the fire ripping through her insides, she breathed heavily, sizzling from the top of her spine to the tip of her toes.
“Are you enjoying this, babe?” he managed to grate out.
Choking past the pulse beating in her throat, she spat. “I’ll live, but you’ll always be an asshole.”
Jerking his hips even more forcefully against hers, Roger slapped her across the ass. More heat blazed. “Still like the pain, baby?”
Blood running hot, she sucked in a harsh breath. “Better than I like you.”
Unrelenting, Roger slid his cock out of her and thrust it up her rectum. He sprawled on top of her, pinning her writhing body under his larger girth. Pressing his chin into her shoulder, he breathed across her ear. “Just a little reminder of who was there first.”
Every nerve ending below Callie’s waist burst anew into painful life. The pain scorched. Humiliation scalded like acid. Nostrils flaring, she panted through her mouth to lessen the ache. She was afraid, but angry.
Refusing to let her mind linger on the sensations, she began to tremble, fingers digging into the metal hood under her hands. “That hurts, you bastard!”
Roger’s fingers dug deeper into her hips. His cock speared again and again. “Too bad, bitch.”
Driven by jealousy and rage, Roger Reinke was out of control. He grabbed a handful of her hair, wrenching back her head, brutally driving his erection as deeply as physically possible.
Callie groaned in violent protest and squirmed beneath him. Her legs shook and her anal muscles involuntarily gripped his cock. Unwanted heat stabbed her bowels, coiling between her legs. She whimpered in defiance, and desire. The darker half of her soul liked the pain, damn it!
Roger held her tighter and jabbed.
Callie gasped. Pressing her knees against the fender, she arched up against Roger’s broad chest. Her moans increased with the demands of a body spinning out of control. Forced or not, denying her need for physical satisfaction was impossible. Helping Iollan had only served to whet her desire for full penetration.
Aching with the sheer intensity of her secret shame, Callie gave in to his intense possession. Climax roared in, primitive and raw, a fireball of sensation erupting between her thighs. A ferocious scream broke from deep inside her throat as she came apart in fierce surrender.
Panting, slicked in the sweat of the aroused male, Roger came, filling her with hot semen, gripping her hips so forcefully he bruised her skin. A moment later he released her. Stepping back, he zipped his pants as if nothing had happened.
The prick.
Callie slid down the hood and fell face forward onto the ground in a limp heap. Spatters of red, white, and blue exploded like fireworks behind her eyes. Feeling as though she was drowning in a murky pool, she realized the brutality of his actions made her sick.
Roger coldly prodded her with a boot as if nothing had happened. “Get up.” A cruel laugh escaped him. “It’s not like you haven’t had it like that before.” Turning away, his boots crunched heavily on the gravel.
Head bowed, tears pricking her eyes, Callie bit back an expletive. Her whole mind, her whole soul, ached with acute revulsion. Deep within her psyche, something sounded. Her initial shock was fading, but what was left in its place was even worse, a sick kind of anxiety, coupled with something more, something she dared not analyze.
Revolted at how eager her body had been to find pleasure in the pain, Callie curled her fingers into angry claws.
Because she’d enjoyed what he’d done.
She refused to think about it. Some truths were too unbearable. Loathing herself, spasms in her guts seemed to shake her entire being. No. No. No. Brutality and force were unacceptable, under any circumstance.
Callie looked up at him through sparking eyes. “Is this what you did to the other women, Roger? Have a little fun before you killed them and dumped the bodies?”
That stopped him dead in his tracks.
Whirling furiously, Roger glared down. “Who told you that?”
She knew then she’d hit a sore spot. Guilty as charged.
Her lips twisted. “I have two fucking eyes. How many people have you mistaken for them, only to find out they’re still one of us?”
Roger’s answer came, chillingly precise. “Collateral damage.” He made a disgusted noise. “You hang with the enemy, you die with the enemy.”
Her heart pounded with long, jarring beats. “Easier to keep blaming Drake, isn’t it? How convenient for your conscience.”
With a few quick strides, Roger Reinke came within kicking distance. Dropping onto his haunches, he struck her backhanded. “If you are a wise woman, you will keep your eyes closed and your mouth shut.”
A burning sensation raked her face. Bastard! she wanted to scream. Shaking off the blow, she spat at him. “Why should I?”
Roger reached out and caught her under the chin. He wrenched back her head. “What’s going on here is bigger than you think. And anyone who jeopardizes that will be considered expendable.” He tightened his grip, fingers digging painfully into soft skin. “Do I make myself clear?”
Unable to move her head even a fraction of an inch, Callie silently indicated her compliance. She comprehended fully the change in him then, and it chilled her to the bone.
Callie understood. Perfectly. No choice but to agree. Didn’t mean she had to like it. Didn’t mean she had to play by their rules. It did mean she’d have to tread carefully. And never get caught without her gun again. Next time, she’d kill him. And there would be a next time.
Guaranteed.
23
Callie came tripping into work at ten AM, an hour later than scheduled. Given the prior night, she’d thought about calling in sick and spending the day in bed. Roger had used a pretty heavy hand on her, giving her a couple of nice bruises on her face and a fat lip. Then she remembered Iollan Drake. Held in the cells below ground in solitary confinement, chained like an animal. No way she’d let him go through that alone.
Suck it up and move on.
She had covered the bruises with heavy foundation, and a lot of luminous lipstick had made her fat lip look Angelina Jolie sexy. Add dark glasses and she looked like any woman who’d had the shit kicked out of her by an ex-lover. Everyone noticed, but no one dared say a word.
Above ground the ASD offices, simply called the International Division of Scientific Research or IDSR on the outside, boasted a nice architectural design with plenty of light and space. Aside from the fanatically high level of security, i
t seemed like any other government building. Though the offices she’d share with Paul Norton weren’t corner prime with a terrific view, they were serviceable.
Already at work by the time she walked in, Norton hunched over his desk, which was piled high with folders, coffee cups, Post-it Notes, and tablets filled with scribbles that would be totally useless to anyone else. Norton operated in total chaos and knew in a second which pile he needed something from.
Callie, on the other hand, usually couldn’t find shit, even when at a desk as neat as a pin. Her habit of plastering everything with Post-its didn’t help. She invariably lost them, no matter how carefully she applied them to her bulletin board, monitor, and whatever surface might be handy for sticking.
She schlepped over to her desk and collapsed into her chair with a heavy sigh. She needed to be filling out her paperwork, writing up the many reports required of an agent. Piss on that. Coffee and cigarettes at hand, she planned on taking it easy for a few days. She doubted Roger Reinke would say a word to her. Passing her in the hallway on her way in, he’d averted his eyes and passed her without acknowledgment.
Callie had smiled her sweetest, said “Good morning,” and breezed on her way. Revenge is a dish best eaten cold, she reminded herself. Just a matter of time.
She glanced at her partner. Shaved and shorn of his beard and moustache, Paul Norton had put on his good glasses and his best suit, which wasn’t saying much. A street rat, Norton worked better undercover than he did in the requisite suit and tie. His suit was rumpled, tie undone, and his glasses were perched half-crookedly on his nose. With his short stature and owlish appearance he looked more like a harried businessman than a hard-nosed government agent.
Norton looked up, doing a double take when she slid off her dark glasses. “What the fuck happened to you?”
Callie sipped her coffee, a double mocha latte, extra dark and strong. She lit up a cigarette, also a no-no in the nonsmoking building. She’d stolen an ashtray from the hotel. Let Uncle Sam pick it up. “I ran into the bathroom door last night.”
Norton clearly didn’t believe her. “Twice?”
Callie wasn’t in a mood to be honest at the moment. “Yeah, twice.” She shrugged. “No big deal.” She sucked on her cigarette, relishing the burn on the back of her throat. The nicotine and caffeine weren’t helping her woozy stomach, promoting those pesky thoughts of pregnancy. I am not knocked up.
Norton didn’t look convinced by her lie. “If you say so.”
She puffed some more. “I say so.”
He adjusted his glasses, straightening the frames. “Just more shit we have to cover up, I suppose,” he muttered.
Callie nodded in agreement. “That and then some.” She eyed her glum partner. “What’s the matter? You look like someone ran over your dog.”
Norton shook his head in dismissal. “Nothing.” Sitting up straight, he busied himself with a couple of files spread across his desk.
Curiosity grabbed her. “What are you working on?” Knowing Norton, he’d finished his reports, in triplicate. The little fucker typed ninety words a minute without looking at the keyboard. Callie managed fifty on a good day.
Norton shifted, uncomfortably clearing his throat. “You ever get the feeling you’re in over your head?” The question came out of nowhere.
Callie flicked the ash off her cigarette, leaning back in her chair. Comfortable thing, too. Nice place to rest an ass all day. Maybe getting out of fieldwork would be the best thing, especially since Professor Forque had indicated she’d be working closely with Drake—the sole reason she’d decided to take this transfer. Conscience wouldn’t let her refuse.
She winced. Her heart wouldn’t allow it either.
A frown tugged her lips down. “Truthfully? I’ve felt like that since the day I woke up with a needle in my arm and someone else walking around in my head.”
Norton gave her a tight grin. “It was shitty of them not to tell you what you were up against.”
Callie arched a brow. “You knew?”
A slight nod. Guilt dripped. “I was told about a week before they brought you in. Nobody managed to get near Drake, so they tossed your ass out there as bait.”
Stomach twisting, Callie snuffed out her cigarette. Suddenly the damn thing didn’t taste so good. In fact, there was a bad taste in her mouth, acidic and bitter. “So I’ve since figured out.”
Norton picked up a pen, fiddling nervously. For the first time, Callie noticed how alarmingly pale and wrung out he looked. Like a man who hadn’t slept in weeks. “You want to know what’s bad about this?”
His question flooded her mind and set her bowels to knotting. “That they’re cutting those fuckers up alive and awake?” Sarcasm dripped.
Taking off his glasses and briefly pinching the bridge of his nose, Norton shook his head. “That’s already bad enough. But no. What bothers me is we don’t know what they plan to do with them.”
Callie’s stomach roiled. “Medical advances for the human race is what I’ve gathered they’re looking at. I’m no scientist, but the DNA of the Niviane Idesha seems to merge very well with human DNA. I’m going to assume those they’ve captured were one hundred percent human at one time.”
Norton’s throat worked. He glanced over his shoulder as if afraid other eyes watched. Very possible. Every action, from e-mail to internal reports, was logged and examined by superiors. You couldn’t take a piss or grab a cup of coffee without passing security.
“That’s the trouble.” Norton’s voice dropped to the level of a whisper. “They’re not treating them like anything human, just test subjects without feelings or any sort of intelligence. They’ve got their hands on living aliens—aliens with abilities we can only dream about. Abilities I don’t believe just any man was meant to have. The Niviane Idesha cull and choose among us for a reason. You’ve been chosen. You know that.”
Scary words. Provocative words.
A prickle of alarm rushed up her spine. In the back of her mind, she’d been thinking the same thing, and wondering: what exactly did the scientists intend to do with the species?
Norton opened one of the folders on his desk. “I’ve been studying the history of the ASD and its objectives—that is, what bits they’ll let me see. Most of it’s classified.”
Callie snorted. “Like that’s a surprise. Don’t forget, we’re working on a need-to-know basis.”
Norton made a sour face. “I hate that.” Turning to his monitor, he logged into the system via a GUI that took users into the main ASD application, if their level of access allowed it. Both Callie and Norton were still at level one, pretty basic stuff. Cases, basic history, resources. Nothing fancy. “Which is why I was working to get full access. I want to see Yuan’s e-mails.”
Her astonishment was huge, but quickly absorbed. Rising from her chair, she walked around to his desk. She bent over his shoulder, close to his ear. “You’re not thinking of doing what I think you are?”
Norton nodded. “You bet your ass. I got Professor Forque to give me his user ID and password.”
“Willingly?” she asked.
“More or less.” Norton gave a sheepish grin. “I can be very persuasive when motivated.”
Callie’s breath hitched in surprise. Hearing his words, her fingers dug into his shoulder. “And you think Forque can be trusted.”
“I made sure he could.” Norton looked away. “I also made sure he’d keep his mouth shut.”
Callie knew better than to ask what he’d done. “If Forque spills, you’ll lose more than your career. They’d fire your ass and shove you in a place so dark no one would ever find you.” Moreover, telling her his plans had just placed her own feet on very thin ice.
A sigh shuddered out of him. “Do I look like I fucking care? Every time I shut my eyes, I keep seeing that poor bastard Doctor Yuan so proudly displayed.” He sucked in a breath, not waiting for an answer. “What they are doing is evil. Pure evil.”
“You think you can stop it?”
she asked, her voice low.
Norton nodded at his monitor. “I’m taking this directly over Roger’s head, to Sam Faber. If he won’t listen, I’ll go to a friend in Congress, or even the media.”
The coffee Callie had drank felt like lead in her stomach now. “That’s crazy, Paul.”
Norton paused, as if mulling her words. “I have a conscience, Callie. This can’t continue.” Gaze hard as rocks, he frowned more deeply. “Fucking career be damned, I won’t be a part of any kind of genocide.”
Logic tried to step in. Her partner was about to throw his career—hell, his life—away. She had to do something to prevent Norton from making a fatal mistake. “They’re not human. The only way to know about them is to study them. A few may have to—” Her eyes pinched closed as her vision wavered, and her throat tightened. Though her words seemed to make sense, she no more believed them than she believed in the tooth fairy.
Norton turned in his chair and put a hand on her arm. “They may not be human, but they aren’t animals, either. You know that more than any of us.”
She flushed hot all over. She locked gazes with Norton. His eyes glittered with righteous anger. Mind warring with her heart, she had to make a decision. She imagined herself pregnant. Imagined herself as the mother of Iollan Drake’s child. Of losing custody of that hybrid child because it wasn’t entirely human. Whether boy or girl, that child would be taken from her, poked and prodded—dissected—in the name of scientific discovery. Her greatest fear, losing her family, would again be realized. Such a fate for her child was a terrifying prospect, and something she couldn’t let happen.
Turn Norton in or help him reveal the truth.
The answer was a no-brainer.
She straightened her shoulders. Things were about to get interesting. “Let me help you. I can get in without compromising you or Forque.”
Norton looked at his monitor and then back up at her. “You sure?”
Callie nodded, making her decision firm. “Yes, I am.”
