by Mallory Kane
He flexed his fingers and sent them flying over the keyboard. Even if the impossible happened and he was unable to break Stryker’s security, his backup plan was ready to go.
One way or another, within a few days he’d have the supersoldier technology.
SHE FELL, CRASHING to the ground, the impact knocking the breath out of her. She looked up just as the rifle bullet slammed into her shoulder. Pain split her in two, stole her sight for an instant. She lifted her weapon with one hand and pulled the trigger.
A horrible rumbling filled her ears as her world turned black. She struggled to move, but she was crushed between the cold dirt under her and the suffocating debris on top of her. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see.
She was buried alive.
Natasha gasped and sat up. Her heart was racing, her pulse throbbed in her temple. She panted, trying to control her breathing as sweat trickled between her breasts.
What was it with the nightmares? She hadn’t had dreams like this since childhood. Obviously the stuffy, close bedroom was feeding into her deepest fears. She exercised the breathing techniques she’d learned to combat her claustrophobia.
After a few seconds her heart rate returned to normal and the sweating subsided. But she knew it would be an hour or more before she could go back to sleep.
She grabbed her fanny pack and slipped out her door and down the hall. She pressed her thumb against the reader and entered the current pass code. The lock clicked softly in the silence.
In the atrium, she raised her face to the skylight and took a full, deep breath. Then she lifted her hair off her neck. The knots of tension in her shoulders and back began to relax. The pounding in her temples faded.
“Agent Rudolph? Everything all right?”
Natasha turned toward the quiet voice. “Hector. I’m just getting a breath of air.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His gaze boldly raked her from head to toe. She had on a pink camisole top and long drawstring pajama pants, but Hector’s blatant stare made her feel undressed.
She turned her back on him and headed for the main entrance. As she approached, a middle-aged guard she didn’t know opened the glass doors for her.
“Thanks,” she murmured, noticing that he made a note on a logbook as she passed through. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I just need some air.”
“Yes, ma’am, Agent Rudolph. I can call a guard to accompany you.”
“No. I’m fine.”
The covered turnaround in front of the house was brightly lit. The lights lined the paved road all the way out to the massive front gates. The green area right around the house was softly lit with solar lights. But Natasha didn’t want lights, she wanted stars. So she walked west along the large circular drive until it curved to the north. She continued west on the grass, down the hill toward the door that led to the living quarters and the lab.
Across the field and up the hill was where the unknown trespasser had gained entry to the estate. A brand-new, heavier-duty metal fence had been brought in early in the afternoon to reinforce that section.
She walked a few steps up the hill, eyeing the area where the evidence of the breach had been found. Then she looked up.
The lights off to the east obscured the weaker stars, but she could see the brightest ones. She drew in a lungful of sweet night air. After spending hours searching the computer code and only finding one error then waking up from a nightmare, she was stiff and tired.
After a few minutes of indulgence, she turned her attention back to the foliage that hid the fence. Somewhere out there beyond it either Storm or Gambrini was on duty. One of them was working security while the other was helping with the questioning and background checks of Dylan’s staff. She pulled her wrist-COM unit from her fanny pack and spoke into it quietly.
“Rudolph here. Storm?”
“Hey, Nat.”
“Where are you?”
“Bored to death in Guardhouse Alpha.”
Natasha smothered a chuckle. “Guardhouse Alpha?”
“Yeah. In case you haven’t noticed, Sergeant Mintz is a born and bred military type.”
“I noticed. What do you think about his security?”
Storm paused. “Top-notch. What I don’t get is what’s the point? I understand the No Such Agency offered Stryker ironclad security in one of their super-secret facilities.”
“You’d have to know him. He doesn’t trust anyone else to protect his child.”
“So you know him?” Storm drawled.
“Stop it, Storm. Not everything is about sex.”
Despite Storm’s implication, she considered his words. Did she know Dylan? During the few days she’d been here, she’d come to respect his expertise. She’d begun to share his obsession with keeping Ben safe. If Ben were her child, she’d die for him.
“Who said anything about sex?” Storm chuckled.
“Never mind.” She sighed, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.
“Yeah, let’s change the subject. Where are you? In bed? Whatcha wearing?”
“Nice segue, Mr. One-Track-Mind. Am I going to have to kick your butt again?”
“Again?” Storm laughed. “You haven’t kicked it the first time. Although I’d be happy to let you see what you can do.” He paused. “Sorry, sugar. I can’t help it. It’s lonely in Guardhouse Alpha.”
“Maybe you should take advantage of the time alone and work on your social skills.”
Storm laughed.
“Okay, Storm. Listen. My COM unit doesn’t work inside the house,” she told him. “Neither do cell phones. When you get the photo-analysis of the fibers caught on the fence, call me on the landline or send me a message through Mintz.”
“You got it, sugar.”
“So has Mintz briefed you on the layout of the house and grounds?”
“Yep. We know where everybody sleeps. We have a blueprint of the entire estate. We’re set.”
“Did he show you absolutely everything—including all the exits?” Natasha said carefully. She knew better than to assume their channel was totally secure.
“He sure did. All of ’em.”
“Good. Stay safe out there. I’m out.” She turned off the COM unit and stuck it back in her fanny pack.
She’d wandered up the hill while talking to Storm. Above her head, a quarter moon shone brightly. Natasha took another refreshing breath of cool night air and curled her toes in her thong sandals, shivering as the cool dampness of the dew spilled onto her toes.
A twig snapped behind her.
She laid her hand on her fanny pack and slid open the nearly silent zipper.
The crunch of leaves had her whirling, slapping at her fanny pack.
“Hey!” Strong hands gripped her upper arms. “Whoa. It’s me, Dylan. What are you doing out here?”
She pulled away from his grip. Had he heard her exchange with Storm?
“It was stuffy in my room. I wanted some air. And I spoke to Special Agent Storm for a moment.” She frowned at him. “Did you come out here looking for me?”
Dylan shook his head. “I had to get out of the lab for a while. It’s nice out here tonight.” He looked up at the sky. The moon was bright, sending faint shadows across the ground and sprinkling pale gold glitter on Natasha’s hair.
It floated across her shoulders, making his fingers itch to touch it, to capture it between his hands and bury his nose in it. He took in her slender, sturdy body, encased in the sheer pink material of her pajamas. The delicate bones of her shoulders and her slender, muscled arms made his mouth water and his body ache.
He ran a hand down his face. He was more exhausted than he’d realized. He was drifting off into dreamland while standing upright.
Natasha angled her head at him. “You’re so tired you’re falling asleep standing up.”
Not falling asleep, he thought. Daydreaming certainly.
“I don’t think you’ve slept since I’ve been here,” she continued.
“I’ve caught a few nap
s with Ben. Knowing he’s right there, beside me…” He shrugged.
Natasha’s face softened. “He’s such a sweet little boy.”
“Don’t let him fool you. He can be a handful.” His voice nearly cracked. He looked away, toward the fence. “So how’s the hacker-tracking going?”
“I was going to find you before I went to bed, but Campbell told me you were with Ben. I’ve set traps and traces on your system to alert us if anyone tries to hack in. I’ve also put an extra layer of security on e-mail. There’s a three-layer system of sign-ons now, including the computer-generated pass codes. We’ve got to keep the hacker out of the secure area. Keep him from injecting a worm or breaking the encryption.”
Dylan listened to Natasha’s low voice in fascination. She seemed so young, but she was so confident, so smart, so irresistible.
As soon as the thought hit his brain, he rejected it. He wasn’t interested in her or anyone else. He had only one goal—saving his son’s legs.
“Sounds good. What’s your impression of the hacker?”
She sent him a sidelong glance. “He’s very good. Scarily good.”
He nodded. “I know. Whoever this is has already managed to do more than NSA thought anyone would be able to. And those guys aren’t often wrong. So he’s got to be the best.”
Natasha didn’t comment.
He heard something. He couldn’t identify it. In fact it was so faint that it might have been an animal moving about in the woods. Still…
“Let’s go back to the house.” The breeze had picked up. It swirled her bright hair around her face and shoulders, and he thought he saw her shiver.
Was she chilly, or had she heard the sound, too? He didn’t like the idea of her being beyond his narrow circle of protection.
She looked past him toward the house and for a second her eyes glimmered as if with fear. It was the second time he had the feeling she didn’t like being in his house.
“Are you okay?” he asked, just as a flash of light hit his dark-adapted eyes and a loud crack echoed around him.
“Natasha!” he cried as a second flash blinded him.
“Get down!” she shouted.
Her pale skin and bright hair made her stand out like an angel in the darkness. Adrenaline, hot as lava, pumped through his veins as the fight-or-flight instinct drove him.
He lunged for her just as a third flash threw the field into garish light and shadow. He hit her body with enough force to take her to the ground, then he rolled on top of her.
The next flash was accompanied by a deep thud. He cringed. His pulse hammered. He spread his body over hers, shielding her. His chest was pressed against her back and his groin rubbed against her bottom.
Doing his best to ignore the signals his body was sending to his brain, he wrapped her head in the circle of his arms and lowered his head beside hers. Her mouth was pressed against his cheek and his brushed her ear.
“Roman c-candles!” Natasha whispered breathlessly, just as his mobile radio crackled.
Without changing position, he reached for the radio. “Alfred, what’s going on?”
“Fireworks. I’m sending the guard in Beta to find whoever’s setting them off and stop them.”
“Thanks.” He thumbed the radio off and clipped it back onto his belt in one quick motion.
Beneath him, Natasha wriggled. Her movements played havoc with his efforts at control. The feel of her bottom moving against him was torture. He felt himself growing hard.
He was caught between a rock and a very hard place. Her wriggling had aroused him.
Hell, it probably wasn’t just her. It was the combination of surprise, danger, darkness and the feel of soft, firm woman—something he hadn’t indulged in, had hardly thought about, for the past three years.
He rolled off her. She immediately turned over, and he met her furious gaze. Her green eyes sparked like fire striking jade.
From her expression, it was obvious that he hadn’t moved away fast enough. She’d felt his arousal.
She jumped up and planted her feet apart directly in front of him and propped her fists on her hips. The moonlight revealed the spots of pink high on her cheekbones.
“What the hell was that?” she snapped.
That. He almost laughed, knowing she wasn’t talking about what he was thinking about. He stood, wishing his jeans weren’t so formfitting, but it was far too late for that wish to come true.
He felt his face heat up. “Fireworks, according to Alfred.”
“I mean throwing me to the ground.”
He shrugged. “I thought we were in danger. I was protecting you.”
She threw up her hands. “I’m the FBI agent. I’m the trained professional here. Don’t you think I should have been protecting you?”
Her hair was a mess. Her face was red, her mouth thin with anger, and her pink pajamas were twisted, revealing the tip of one breast. She was furious and gorgeous and strong and sexy.
He shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t.”
She slapped her waist. “I have a weapon—” She cursed. “Where’s my gun? You knocked it out of my pack when you hit me.”
She whirled, scanning the ground, then spotted it a few feet behind them.
She stalked over to pick it up. When she reached down, Dylan saw a dark spot on her top, just below her left shoulder. “What’s that?” He touched her arm.
She jerked away. “What? Nothing.”
“It’s blood. You fell on something, didn’t you?” He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. When he peeled the stretchy material of her top down an inch or so, he saw the nasty scratch below her shoulder blade.
“No,” she said tightly. “I didn’t fall. You pushed me.” She stepped away again and used the tail of her top to wipe off her gun. “I’m going to check out the source of the fireworks.”
“No you’re not. You’re coming with me. I want to check on Ben, and you need medication for that wound.” He grabbed her arms and pulled her toward him.
She let him turn her around. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “I’m capable of taking care of myself. There’s nothing to slathering some alcohol on a scratch. And besides, you had no business throwing me to the ground like that. You could have gotten yourself shot.”
“Hey,” he said, angling his head to look her in the eye. “I’m a guy. Protecting is what we do.”
She looked up and he was surprised to see a different kind of light in her green eyes. She appeared a little stunned, and a tiny smile played across her generous lips. She lowered her gaze, then raised it again, as if trying to make up her mind.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “That’s nice.”
And then she raised her head and kissed his mouth. Her lips were like moth wings—soft, fluttery, warm.
He slid his hand through her hair the way he’d longed to ever since he’d first seen her. Then closed his fist and held her head still as he kissed her—working like hell to keep his kiss as soft and gentle as hers had been.
It took all his control to keep from pressing her to his length and making the kiss a full-body experience. His arm shook with his restraint.
She pulled away and his heart lurched. Her eyes were dewy and heavy-lidded. Had he gone too far too fast?
After a quick searching look, she kissed him again. Again he had no defense.
Her hand ran up his biceps and across his shoulder. She cupped his cheek in her palm as she kept on kissing him.
Suddenly, the utter stupidity of what he was doing hit him. He was kissing a virtual stranger while his home and his child were under attack. He jerked away.
Natasha stood there, frozen for a few seconds, then the red spots returned to her cheekbones and she ducked her head. “I am so sorry,” she murmured, and took off for the house.
Dylan stood in place for a moment, cursing himself. He had a baby to worry about. A baby who was running out of time. What the hell had he been thinking?
The answe
r to that was a no-brainer. He hadn’t been thinking. He’d been reacting. He’d told her I’m a guy, it’s what we do. And it was true. Protection.
But also sex.
Chapter Seven
Tom looked at the schematic on his computer screen, then back at the device sitting in front of him. He traced each wire one more time, assuring himself that each one was perfectly placed, perfectly aligned. Then he opened a small plastic-wrapped package and carefully removed the gray substance inside. He kneaded it until it was soft and malleable.
After consulting the schematic again, he separated a nice-sized sphere of the gray substance and rolled it between his palms.
It was almost ready. There was only one last bit of construction—the hardest part. For this he needed a cell phone and something to serve as a trigger.
Just then a knock sounded on his front door. Excitement slithered up his spine. Everything was coming together like clockwork.
By the time his accomplice got back to Stryker’s estate this afternoon, everything would be ready.
It was only a matter of time.
NATASHA CLOSED HER EYES and stretched her arms and back. That was the last test. The imposter program was ready.
She glanced at the clock in the lower right of the monitor. Four o’clock on Sunday afternoon. The weekend had passed quietly. Since Charlene was off and Dylan was working night and day on the neural interface program, she and Mintz had shared babysitting duties.
During the hours Mintz was watching Ben, she worked on her imposter program. Finally, by the time Charlene got back Sunday afternoon to relieve them, she’d completed the program.
She ran through the code one last time, paying particular attention to the encryption she’d set up to firewall the bogus neural interface software.
As she scrolled screen by screen, looking for errors, she rubbed her temple where a headache was beginning. She closed her burning eyes for a few seconds.
“Hey, is everything all right?”
Her eyes flew open and her breath hitched. “Oh, Dylan. I’m fine. Sorry. I’ve looked at this screen so long it’s getting blurry.”
