by Joni Hahn
Pulling away, she sat down in a nearby chair and gave her head a dismissive shake. “I’m just clumsy.”
His narrow eyes studied her. She glared at both versions of him.
“Do I need to worry about you, too, Teague?” Clint said.
“No, I just haven’t eaten much today. I need to hit the cafeteria before I go to sleep.” Swaying in her chair, she shut her eyes and rubbed her temples.
Dylan squatted in front of her. “What’s wrong with you, Teague?”
“I’m fine.”
He laid a palm on her leg. “No, you’re not.”
Opening her eyes, she said, “Must we always bicker?”
His knowing grin told her where his mind had wandered. They certainly hadn’t argued in the exam room.
Heaven help her. If it wasn’t that, it was her MS, or her questionable decision to work for Cyrus Matheson. She felt like one of those wind-up dolls that kept bumping into walls.
Nevertheless, it reminded her that she had her work cut out for her. She had to correct her genetic code before her MS got too severe. Once she helped Clint with Dylan’s enhancement tomorrow, she could concentrate on the genetics full time.
“I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Mitchell nodded. “Good. You’ve been through a lot the last few days.”
Standing, Dylan helped her to her feet. “I’ll walk you.”
Snatching her hand from his grip, she didn’t want him to think her bedside manner extended beyond the exam room. She couldn’t get close to him, even though her body wanted nothing more.
“You’ve been ordered to remain here in the lab, Dylan,” she said. “You can’t go anywhere.”
Chapter 4
The excitement wouldn’t let Dylan sleep. Since his vitals were fine, he convinced Clint’s pretty technician to allow him to wander the halls. All it had taken was a brush of his fingertips along her jaw and she’d nodded in agreement.
All the while, he could only think of Teague.
Wandering down the apartment wing hallway, his knock on her apartment door gained him no answer. Not that he’d expected her to answer. She should be asleep. She was exhausted.
That logic didn’t keep him from knocking anyway.
Heading to the fitness center, he wondered what her story really was. The uptight, conservative doctor gave him the best, damned jack job and French kisses he’d ever had. She’d gotten him hotter than the Kansas plains in a summer drought, but wouldn’t let him please her.
Why?
Walking inside, he found the fitness room deserted, the assortment of machines still and lifeless. He was given specific instructions not to overexert himself. Yet, his ADD mind and body just couldn’t sit still.
A faint melody reached his ears. Frowning, he followed the music around the corner, to one of the racquetball courts. Peering in the window, he saw Teague dancing to the music, the back of her tank top and tiny shorts sweat-soaked, her skin dotted in perspiration.
She swayed and twisted with surprising grace, her movements smooth and fluent. Twirling in place, she segued into a shimmy, her hips moving into a shake that got his heart rate going without the benefit of a workout. Scooting sideways, her arms waved out at her sides – before she fell to the floor.
He rushed inside the door and stopped beside her, a hand outstretched. “Are you okay?”
Sitting on the ground, she slapped away his hand. “Get out of here, Dylan.” She shouted over the music without looking at him. “Go away.”
It smacked him in the forehead. Teague was sick. She had some kind of medical condition and was trying to hide it.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Are you still here?” Climbing to her knees, she sat back on her haunches and took a deep breath.
“Yep. Not going anywhere until you answer my question.”
Rising to her feet with slow movements, she closed her eyes a moment before walking to the audio panel and cutting the music. Without looking at him, she walked out the door.
He rushed to catch up with her and blocked her path. “Hey…”
Stopping short, she glared up at him. “What? Are you looking for a weakness? Something to convince Clint that I’m not to be trusted?”
Pulling back his head, he said, “No. Can’t I show a little concern? After today-“
“I’m sorry about that, Dylan.” Her cheeks turned a bright red before she turned away.
With a hand to her jaw, he turned her to face him. Still, she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“I’m not,” he said.
She gave a sarcastic laugh. “It was… out of character for me.”
Somehow, he knew that.
“Damn, it’s really my lucky day.” He smiled at her, realizing she needed some kind of reprieve. Teague Hamilton had a lot on her mind.
With a reluctant laugh, she shoved against his chest. “Stop.”
Giving her a lopsided grin, he said, “Come on, let’s go grab a beer from the cafeteria. You look like you could use it.”
“You can’t have a beer, Dylan.” She stood hands on hips. “And, what are you doing out of the prep room? You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
He mimicked her stance. “You’re a fine one to talk. Mitchell wanted you to get some rest.”
“I’m not having a superhuman enhancement installed tomorrow.”
He feigned a ferocious frown. “Are you always so damned logical?”
“Yes.” Her smile made him grin. “Don’t argue with me, McCall. You’ll lose.”
“I don’t doubt it.” His shoulders relaxed. “I’m too excited. I can’t sleep.”
Nodding, she walked to the water dispenser and poured two cups. Handing one to him, she held up hers for a toast. “To Dylan McCall. May he show the world of nanotechnology who’s boss.”
Smiling, he nodded. “And, Cyrus Matheson.” He watched her face for a reaction.
She tilted her head in acquiescence. “And, Cyrus Matheson.”
Taking a drink, he stared at her over the rim of his cup, Teague doing the same. Her silver eyes crinkled at the corners.
“So,” she said, sitting down on a nearby weight bench, “today was your lucky day.” She hid her grin in her cup. “That doesn’t bode well for your ladies man reputation.”
He straddled the bench next to hers. “Cheap shots will get you nowhere, Doctor,” he said, using her words from the exam room against her.
Sobering, she stared down at the floor. “So, what was your unluckiest day?”
Memories assaulted him with steady blows as he swirled around the water in his cup. He didn’t have to think about that one. “The day I was taken from my unit in Afghanistan.”
“By Cyrus’s people?” Her voice sounded soft with understanding.
Nodding, he said, “Yes… well, at least I think so. I ended up in Mongolia immediately afterward.”
She propped her feet on the bench, knees to her chest. It gave him a clear view of half her ass, some kind of tattoo on one cheek.
“That must’ve been terrifying,” she said. “Did they hurt you?”
They’d hurt him, but not in the ways Teague probably assumed. Sitting up straight, he gave her his best macho grin.
“They tried.”
She laughed aloud, the simple act lighting up her entire face. He hadn’t heard her laugh before, didn’t realize she had a dimple in her right cheek.
“You’re so full of yourself, McCall.”
He took another sip of water. “You have to be in this line of work. Too many people depend on you.”
“I believe in you.” Her words were immediate and uttered with quiet solemnity.
His chest swelled. For some reason, that meant a lot to him. Though he’d always known he had his family’s support, he knew they doubted him.
He’d followed in his grandfather and father’s footsteps by joining the Marines, but he’d always been the goof off. The one people questioned, wondering if he could make it in life
when he’d barely made it through high school.
School had bored him. The infantry had intrigued him.
D.I.R.E. excited the hell out of him. Almost as much as playing doctor with Teague Hamilton.
Staring into his cup, he said, “I was in Mongolia a couple of months before I realized what they were doing.”
Recollections he’d tried hard to bury came rushing back, nauseating him. Elbows on his knees, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing his stomach to calm.
“They used psychology. They would make me fight prisoners I had grown close to in order to test my loyalty.”
She caught her breath.
“Or, pit two of them against each other to see which one I would jump into the ring to defend.” Setting his cup on the floor, he ran his fingers through his hair. “The bastards would let it go on until someone got beaten to near death.”
“And, that was always you.” Her fingers brushed through his hair, soft against his scalp. “You wouldn’t kill them.”
Nodding, he swallowed hard, resentment and rage roaring through his body anew. Cyrus Matheson took control of Dylan’s life that day in Afghanistan, and with the detonator on his heart, still held it in the palm of his hand. Until Dylan destroyed all of the clones, the technology, and him, he’d always retain power.
“That’s why you don’t care if you die. As long as that switch is on your heart, you’ll always feel like he owns you.”
Raising his head, he turned to look at her. “Are you some kind of mind reader?”
Pulling her bottom lip in over her teeth, she said, “Mmm, I don’t know, let me see… yep, all I’m getting is a blank slate. I guess so.”
Scooping her around the waist, he pulled her onto his lap. She yelped before hooking her arms around his neck.
“Not all of us can have beauty and brains, Doctor.”
Her smile vanished, her direct gaze going awry again. “Dylan, don’t…”
He wouldn’t let her evade him again. They’d come too far in the last few minutes.
“Don’t what?”
Leaning forward, he approached her mouth slowly, expecting her to bolt. An inch or so from her lips, he checked her eyes one more time to gauge her reaction. They glittered like liquid diamonds, dark and hungry.
He pressed his lips to hers, tentative at first. She tightened her hold around his neck, opening her mouth beneath his, her tongue toying with his bottom lip. Need rushed through his veins, roaring in his ears.
With lazy strokes, he dipped inside her mouth. God, she tasted sweet, her tongue soft, but daring as it welcomed his. This was better. So much better than the hot, yet cold encounter they’d had that morning. They were on the same wavelength now and it hummed on high frequency.
She broke away on a helpless moan. “You’re not supposed to get aroused, Dylan.”
“You already used that line this morning.” He leaned in for another kiss.
Laughing, she pressed against his chest. “I’m serious.”
He took a deep breath to calm down. “You’re right. I need to stay focused on tomorrow.”
“Yes, you do,” she said, always the voice of reason.
He gave her face a slow onceover, realizing she had skin like porcelain. “Where are your glasses?”
Frowning at him, she said, “In my apartment. They slide down my face when I work out.”
Skimming his hands up her back, he said, “So, you’re not completely blind without them?”
She felt around his chest and shoulders, her gaze averted. “No. Who are you, again?”
For some reason, even in jest, he didn’t like the idea of her kissing someone else. He pulled her up against his stubborn erection. She purred.
“Let me remind you, Doctor…”
Clutching her head in both hands, he plundered her mouth, his tongue diving deep. He’d make damn sure it was his taste she remembered during a luscious buffet, his touch during a luxurious rubdown.
She met him with equal force, her kiss ripe with the need he’d left unanswered. He wanted nothing more than to please her, but he also didn’t want to scare her off. After the welcome he’d received in the racquetball court, he didn’t want to take any chances.
But damn, the woman could kiss.
Breaking away, she ran her fingers over his stubble, her breathing labored. “We have to stop this.”
Hell. “You’re right...” He ran a hand down his face.
She moved to rise. He held her in place, unwilling to part just yet.
“Tell me about one of your lucky days, Teague.”
Her eyes widened. “Mine?”
The tone of her voice almost made it sound like no one ever asked her about her life.
“Yeah,” he said, “and it can’t be the day you passed the SAT with a perfect score at the age of five.”
Smiling, she stared at his mouth as she ran the pad of her thumb over his bottom lip. His tongue snaked out to taste it.
“A lucky day…” She sighed. “I guess the day I stepped off the plane in Germany for a summer internship. A group of my college classmates and I raised money to work at the University of Cologne. We spent the summer working with genetics and traveling through Europe.”
If she kept staring at his mouth like that, they would have to postpone his enhancement installation. Mitchell would not be happy. He had to keep her talking.
“Sweet. What was your favorite part of the summer?“
Her palms trailed over his chest and shoulders, reminding him of a sculptor with clay. Leaning close, she kissed his throat. His body went into full alert.
“No stress. I didn’t have to work and go to school. I just worked with the university team during the day, and relaxed otherwise.”
He placed a strand of raven hair behind her ear. “No rich parents to get you through college?”
She shook her head, her palm stilling on his chest. “No parents, period.”
The underlying pain in her voice made him tighten his hold on her. Coming from a family of five sisters and dozens of cousins, he couldn’t imagine life without them.
“I guess I don’t have to ask about your unlucky day…” he said, in a low voice.
Her downturned mouth made his gut burn. “It was the day my father died.”
He linked his fingers with hers on his chest. She wouldn’t look at him.
“Were you young?”
Nodding, she said, “I was five.”
Damn, she was just a baby…
“So, it was just you and your mother? Any brothers and sisters?”
Shaking her head, she said, “My mother died five months before my father.”
He stiffened, his brows knitting in surprise. “What happened?”
She leaned her forehead against his chest, her hair tickling his nose. “I was told my mother died of cancer, my father of heart disease.” She let out a bitter laugh. “I’m cursed, McCall.”
With a loud sigh, she backed away from him and climbed to her feet. Loneliness washed over him.
“What’s really wrong with you, Teague?”
She turned her back on him, her arms crossed over her middle. “Nothing I can’t handle on my own.”
Teague had grown so used to being alone, she wouldn’t accept help, regardless of whether she needed it or not.
He came up behind her and ran his hands down her arms. “That’s the thing, Teague. You don’t have to handle it on your own.”
Whipping around, she swallowed hard, her eyes red-rimmed against her pale face. “There’s nothing you, or anyone else can do for me. Don’t concern yourself, Dylan.”
Now he understood her obsession with genetics. She wanted to fix her family history for the future. Stiff and in-control Teague Hamilton had no evil plan to take over the world with Cyrus - only a hope to save hers.
She tossed her cup in the trash and walked away. “Just forget today happened, Dylan. Get back to the lab. You have a big day tomorrow.”
***
“You ha
ve lost it, Teague Benet Hamilton.”
Rubbing her eyes with a thumb and forefinger, Teague sat back in her lab chair. She was tired after spending the night working on her DNA and checking on Dylan while he slept.
The super agent’s in-your-face charm had turned her character on its ear.
She’d always been the straitlaced, logical, dependable scientist. The employee that was always available because she didn’t have a social life, the hermit that valued her privacy as a comfort zone.
Yet, here she sat, a week after meeting said super agent, wearing contact lenses instead of glasses, makeup on her face, and thinking about what she would wear to Jocelyn’s birthday party.
She almost felt… shallow.
Jocelyn and Hope had made her feel more than welcome, inviting her to coffee, giving her a plant as a welcome gift, and sneaking her up to the D.I.R.E. roof lounge for late night drinks. She’d tried to decline their invitations, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.
They talked about everything from ongoing projects to fashion, and of course, men. For relationships she didn’t want to nurture, they now felt almost like friends.
Mitchell stuck his head around the corner. “Are you ready to see the clone?”
They’d brought back the blond man that held her at gunpoint on the beach. Mitchell and his team interrogated him yesterday. Now, it was her turn to talk to him and take his DNA samples.
Turnabout was fair play.
She was anxious to see what made Cyrus’s clones tick. What differences lay between them and naturally conceived humans.
“Yes, Mitchell,” she said, walking to a nearby cabinet and grabbing a case of supplies.
He led her out of the lab and down the hallway. “Do you have any specific instructions for me?” she said, “Or, can I do my thing?”
Pressing the elevator button, he allowed her to enter before he followed her inside. “Do your thing, Doctor. I don’t anticipate anything significant. We used Agent Monroe, our electrical conductor, to interrogate him and quickly realized the clone would rather die than answer questions. Their do or die loyalty to Cyrus is genuine.”
“Do you think it’s safe for me to be alone with him?” she said, as they made their way down the security wing.
“You won’t be alone. My son, Tristan, will be in the room, but he will be cloaked.” Mitchell pointed at a tall, dark and mouthwatering man approaching from the other direction. “The clone won’t know he’s there.”
