Agent N6: Dylan

by Joni Hahn

  Whipping off her trouser belt, Teague held it against his teeth. “Here, bite down.”

  His teeth clamped down on the thick leather.

  “This isn’t sterile, McCall,” Clint said, his eyes on the tiny robots. “You’ll die.”

  She fought the urge to cover her ears. Don’t say that. He can’t die. I just found him.

  “Dying… anyway,” he said, between his teeth and the belt.

  No. She refused to accept that.

  She turned to Clint, then Jocelyn, who lay across Dylan’s legs to keep them still. “Why are you just sitting there? Get a shot of epinephrine ready. We need to pour alcohol on the open wound.”

  She knew she should sit back and let them do their job. ER care was never her forte. But, this was Dylan, dammit, and they weren’t moving fast enough.

  Handing her the bottle of alcohol, Jocelyn rushed around to Teague’s side and suctioned some of the pooling blood from his chest.

  Teague glanced at Clint. “Hold his arms above his head.” Unscrewing the cap, she poured it on the open area in small increments. Dylan growled through his teeth, sweat pouring off his brow.

  “You’re not getting out of our relationship this easy, McCall.”

  He gave a gust of attempted laughter. She smiled, her eyes on the nanobots surrounding the device with minute accuracy. They peeled away one of the clamps, leaving the hinge hanging free. She glanced at his face.

  “Keep focusing, McCall. You’re doing great.”

  Dylan’s groans softened. She poured more alcohol into the wound, jolting him awake.

  “Can’t get lazy on me. Your mind has a job to do.”

  He spoke around the belt. “Shitty… bedside manner.”

  Watching the nanobots work, Teague smiled as they removed another clamp. Two more to go.

  “They’re amazing, Dylan. The accuracy is remarkable.”

  The nanobots stopped in place. Teague glanced up. His eyes fluttered, then shut, thick copper lashes against colorless cheeks. He lay deathly still against the cold, tile floor.

  She soaked the area with more alcohol. He awoke, his eyes blinking open.

  “Don’t you dare leave me...”

  Her body shook uncontrollably, her heart thrashing against her lungs. She couldn’t lose him. Not like this. How could God ask her to take another loss? Hadn’t she lost enough?

  Jocelyn snatched up the packaged syringe at her side and removed the needle. She handed it to Clint. The nanobots’ movements slowed, their legs jolting, sporadic as they moved over the device and removed the third clamp.

  “Can’t…”

  Dylan’s face blurred before her eyes. She blamed it on the double vision.

  She said, “Remember when I told you my unluckiest day ever was the day my father died?”

  His heavy-lidded eyes stared up at her, the belt going lax in his mouth.

  “That’s not true. It’s today.”

  The nanobots picked up speed, but they still crawled at a slow pace. The last day or so with Dylan was the only time in her adult life that she hadn’t felt alone. She knew he would be there for her, no matter what happened.

  But, that comfort lay on the floor beside her, near death.

  She took his hand in hers. It didn’t pay to love someone. Losing them hurt too much. She was better off alone.

  His heart slowed, the beats coming too far apart now.

  “I love you, Dylan.”

  The nanobots stopped. She looked at Clint. Holding the needle poised above Dylan’s chest, he gave her a brief nod. Taking hold of the last hinge, Teague unhooked it and flung aside the device. Clint stabbed the needle in his heart and released the drug.

  Dylan’s heart pumped once, the stilled… before falling into a steady rhythm.

  The air rushed out of her lungs, her hands shaking.

  “You did it, Teague.” Jocelyn said, as a team of medical personnel rushed into the room.

  They backed away from Dylan to give them room to work. Violent spasms shimmied through Teague, making her lightheaded. She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Are you okay?” Jocelyn clutched her arm in a tight grip.

  The MS hug squeezed her diaphragm like a boa constrictor. She wrapped her arms around her middle. “I need… to sit.”

  Jocelyn grabbed the desk chair and put it behind Teague. “Here you go.” Moving around to look in her face, Jocelyn said, “Are you having a panic attack?”

  Shaking her head, Teague bent over and clutched her middle. She didn’t have time for this. She wanted to watch them work on Dylan.

  “Why don’t I get a wheelchair and get you out of here?” Straightening, Jocelyn turned away.

  “No.” She winced at the pain. “I want to stay here, in case Dylan needs me.”

  Kneeling beside the chair, Jocelyn said, “You’re in no shape to help right now.”

  Jocelyn’s statement hit her like a splash in the face.

  The day she’d dreaded since her diagnosis had finally come. Her MS had interfered with her job.

  What if Dylan had needed her now and she couldn’t be there for him? When she couldn’t work anymore, what would she have to live for?

  She was on the verge of perfecting her DNA. She had to get it done before Dylan recovered. Leaving the compound without his interference would make things so much easier.

  Leaving her heart behind would be the hard part.

  Chapter 9

  Dylan winced when Mitchell walked into his hospital room the next day. He’d heard Mitchell was furious about him removing the device from his heart. He’d risked billions of dollars in nanotechnology due his prideful temper. Thank God Teague had been there to save his ass.

  “Well, if it isn’t my former super agent.” Mitchell’s sarcastic tone made him wince again.

  It was his greeting that pissed him off.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dylan scowled at him.

  Mitchell crossed her arms over his chest. “I distinctly remember the discussion we had about removing the device. We determined the risk to your life was too great so we’d leave it in place, correct?” He rolled his hand over and over. “Please, refresh my memory.”

  Mitchell pulled out the patronizing arrogance when his temper had been pushed to extreme levels. He never raised his voice. He just made his words… sharper.

  “Yes, but-“

  “So, your actions yesterday in the security cell were intentional. You disobeyed my orders.”

  “No… well, yes, but not… premeditated.”

  He gave a brief shake of his head. “So, by your own admission, you disobeyed my orders.” His sharp gaze dared Dylan to defy him. “That’s grounds for termination.”

  His father’s words dashed through Dylan’s head like bumper cars knocking into each other.

  I don’t think you have what it takes to make it in the Marines, Son. You don’t think before you act. No need to take it personal. We all have our limitations. You can run the farm in a few years.

  That day, he’d nearly puked, but wouldn’t do it in front of his father. Self-hatred had taken over his usual, optimistic mood by chewing it up and spitting it out like his father’s tobacco.

  After a night of indulging in the gallon of whiskey his cousins had sent the previous Christmas, Dylan woke the next morning to a massive hangover and a renewed determination to prove his father wrong.

  He was still trying to do that, years later.

  “Do I get a chance to explain what happened? Or, are you going to jump to conclusions and fire me when I’m finally onto something with Cyrus’s plans?”

  Mitchell studied him without speaking, his face expressionless.

  Dylan shifted on the bed. “Van had a switch like mine on his heart. He set it off, knowing I was close enough to make my RF shielding ineffective. He hit it to kill me, knowing he would die in the process.”

  “How did he do it?”

  Holding up his hand, Dylan imitated Van’s actions. “He cl
osed his hand into a fist and his bones lit up. The tighter his fist, the brighter the green light. When he was ready to detonate it, he clenched it tight.” He snapped his hand into a tighter fist.

  He looked at Mitchell. “I held my armbands over my chest, hoping the copper would block the signal until the nanos could form a shield. But, the tracker kept going off intermittently, zapping my heart. It hurt like a sonovabitch.”

  Glancing down at the bed covers, he said, “I couldn’t take it anymore so I had the nanos form a knife and cut me open.”

  And, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

  Mitchell said, “What information do you have on the clones?”

  He repeated what Van had told him about Teague’s destiny, before he told them about her tattoo. “What the hell do you think that means?”

  Releasing a breath, Mitchell said, “Sounds like she could be playing us.”

  Mitchell’s serious voice confirmed the suspicion niggling Dylan’s gut.

  “She deserves a chance to explain, just like I did,” Dylan said.

  “She’ll get her chance. Whether or not she takes advantage of it is another story.”

  ***

  She did it.

  Teague stared at the perfected DNA fragment through the electron microscope. Locating the affected gene was like trying to locate a particular star on a paper map of the universe. Thanks to Clint’s advancements in nanotechnology, she was able to read the DNA much faster. By integrating her DNA chip with the technology, her DNA bases were read electronically as they shot through each nanopore on the chip.

  Dylan’s enhancement technology had helped her reach her goal.

  So, where was the joy, the excitement she should feel? Her initial goal was to perfect her DNA and leave. Accomplishing that goal meant leaving behind something that had become more important.

  Then again, she was used to being alone.

  Staring at the cryo tank that contained Dylan’s semen, she took a deep breath and let it out. Now, she could return to Dr. Capri’s lab and complete the DNA work on her eggs. No one would look over her shoulder there. She’d earned the right to work without question.

  The clock showed eight o’clock. Dylan should be awake and through with breakfast. She’d checked on him throughout the night, taking breaks from work to stretch her legs. Ordering more pain meds for him may not have gained her any new friends, but then again, this was Dylan. She would do anything to ensure his speedy recovery.

  A few minutes later, she stopped in his doorway and sighed. He sat on the side of the bed, staring at the floor, deep in thought. Even in a hospital gown, the man exuded sexy. His shoulders appeared huge in the hospital gown, his jaw chiseled and dark with thicker stubble.

  Of course, he knew it. That egotistical part of his appeal had drawn her from the beginning. It was the softhearted, vulnerable side that had kept her coming back.

  “You look good for a man who died yesterday.”

  He glanced up, his face splitting into a wide grin. He held out his hand. “Come here, beautiful.”

  His simple action left her speechless. Had anyone ever welcomed her that way? With such genuine pleasure and eagerness?

  Rushing to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck in a delicate embrace. She kissed him, unleashing all of the worry and anxiety she’d kept bottled up over the last several hours. Seeing his smile, feeling his hands on her, made her feel giddy.

  “Now, you’re free.” She knew how much that tracker had weighed on him.

  A light glowed behind his blue-green gaze. “I kinda like being a kept man.” His hands skimmed up her back.

  “Really?” she said, leaning back in his embrace. “That can be arranged.”

  Grinning up at her, he said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’ve been here.” She gave him a brief kiss on the mouth. “You’ve just slept through my visits.”

  His brow creased. “When?”

  “I worked through the night and came by every hour to take a break.” She pointed at the IV tower. “How do you think you got that bag of pain meds?”

  “I heard you were sick.” Holding out her hands, he gave her a quick perusal. “Are you okay?”

  Jocelyn had insisted Teague take a nap while the medical team closed up Dylan and got him settled in the medical wing. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until she woke six hours later to find Dylan fast asleep in his room, looking pale but full of health.

  She shooed away his concern. “I’m fine.”

  His brow furrowed. “Not that you would tell me.”

  Clutching his scruffy chin in her hand, she said, “Now, you’re catching on, McCall. I knew there was more to you than a pretty face.”

  Giving her that cocky grin, he yanked her close and dipped her back on the bed. She yelped aloud.

  “Come here wench. I’ll show you what else I’ve got.” He lowered his mouth to hers.

  “Well, that’s one way to interrogate her.”

  They sprang apart as Mitchell entered the room. His stiff, overbearing aura caused her joy to flee. She tried to stand up, but Dylan held her at his side on the bed.

  “Interrogate me?”

  Teague glanced at her boss, before Dylan squeezed her hand. The happy-to-see-her Dylan had vanished. The serious, Cyrus-hating super agent had stepped in. Her stomach swirled like a DNA strand.

  “After talking to Van yesterday,” Dylan said. “I learned a few things. We have some questions for you.”

  Nodding, she said, “Of course. Whatever I can do.”

  Glancing at their joined hands, Mitchell gave her a small smile. “I want to thank you for helping to save Dylan’s life yesterday.”

  She could hear the but in his unspoken words. “I had a personal stake in the matter.”

  Dylan raised her hand to his lips.

  “He should’ve never been in that cell,” Mitchell said, giving him an irritated glare.

  Dylan said, “I wasn’t going to let him threaten Teague and think there were no consequences.”

  Mitchell’s words were clipped. “We’d already taken care of that, McCall. He almost got the last laugh.”

  Teague knew Mitchell ran a tight ship and didn’t tolerate insubordination. However, she wouldn’t allow him to belittle Dylan without speaking up for him. She had no fear of losing her position now that she had what she’d come for.

  “Well, he didn’t get the last laugh,” she said. “Now, Dylan said you had questions for me?”

  With narrow eyes, Mitchell crossed his arms over his chest. “What can you tell us about your tattoo, Dr. Hamilton?”

  Her eyes widened. She couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d asked her what feminine products she used.

  “My tattoo?” She glanced at Dylan who wore a slight blush in his cheeks. “You’re serious?”

  Mitchell gave a brief nod.

  “I’ve had it since I was five-years-old. Mrs. Burnett, my guardian, had it done. She gave each of us a tattoo.” Glancing down at her lap, she recalled her father’s anger as he lay in the hospital bed, pale and near death. “My father was furious when I showed it to him. He just kept apologizing for leaving me…”

  Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Dylan kissed her temple. “Do you know why she chose Destiny’s Child?”

  She shook her head. “No. I asked, but she never answered. Soon, I forgot about it.” She shrugged. “It’s not like I look at it every day.”

  Mitchell said, “How many girls were at the home with you?”

  “When I first arrived, there were six.” She tightened her hold on Dylan’s hand as memories assailed her. “Girls came and went over the years. As far as I know, I was the only one that never went into foster care.”

  “Why not?” Dylan said.

  Releasing his hand, she wrapped her arms around her middle. “I was told my intelligence intimidated potential parents and I was…” She swallowed down the bad memories like bile. “…too homely. Parents wanted cute, lively litt
le girls. Not plain bookworms that would rather read than play with dolls.”

  Mitchell said, “Have you ever been in contact with any of the girls?”

  She shook her head. “When I left for college, I never looked back. I hated it there.” She glanced at Dylan before looking back at Mitchell. “What is this all about?”

  Dylan said, “Yesterday, Van told me it was your destiny to be part of Cyrus’s plan.”

  Her heart skidded to a stop. Destiny’s Child.

  They suspected her of treason.

  Mitchell and Dylan thought her tattoo gave away her true identity, her true motives in this entire ordeal.

  She turned to Dylan. He stared at her not as a lover, but as an agent. An interrogator.

  Her heart shattered, the pieces shredding her lungs, suffocating her. They’d made love, shared an exquisite passion no one else in the world could comprehend – or possibly share.

  It meant nothing.

  Yes, she’d had an ulterior motive, but it didn’t involve betraying his mission or the agency.

  Only his personal faith in her.

  It became crystal clear that what they shared, her love for him, held no value. It would never mean anything because its foundation consisted of her lies and his need for revenge.

  Her time to leave had come.

  Standing, she backed away from Dylan. He stretched out a hand.

  “Baby, come here.”

  “You still don’t trust me. After everything I’ve done, you still suspect I’m working for Cyrus.”

  Grabbing the IV tower, Dylan stood up. “No, Teague. You’re wrong. I do trust you.”

  Mitchell said, “We just want to get to the bottom of this, Teague.”

  Shaking her head, she turned to the door. A brick wall formed before her eyes, blocking her path.

  Dylan’s nanobots.

  She wouldn’t turn around. “You’re going to imprison me, after all?”

  The wall crumbled at her feet and disappeared behind her.

  “Teague, don’t do this...”

  The torment in his voice toyed with her heart, begging her to stay. Her logical mind told her not to act the fool.

  Riordan St. James’ voice came over his armbands. “Mitchell.”