Wylde (Xi Force Book 3)

by S. C. Mitchell

  Even now that Joel was more machine than man, a cyborg superhero with a computer built into his head, he remained the closest thing Wylde had to a human friend, after Dove.

  Aaron scowled. “That would be an unauthorized mission. If any of you were caught or killed, we’d have to disavow any knowledge of your actions. So if you’re planning to fuck this up, don’t tell me about it. I’ve got enough headaches right now.”

  Chris Johnson, the other cyborg on the Xi Force team, sat next to his wife, Heather, one of the most amazing scientific minds of this century. Well, any century really.

  She’d brought Chris back to life after he’d been shot through the heart and turned him into Z-Bot, a cyborg and Xi Force’s first member. After Joel was murdered, he became the second to undergo Heather’s process.

  There would be no others. The program was shut down and the process made illegal, at least for now.

  Chris sat with his eyes unfocused, a clear sign he was using his internal computer. “The White Knights, my hacker friends, report a lot of noise on boards connected with the Russian mafia. Something about sending a package home. That could be Dove.”

  Clenching his fist, Wylde growled. “How much more proof do you need? They’re taking Dove to the Red Guard headquarters compound. I was held captive there for five years. I don’t want her there five minutes. They’ll hurt her. I have to go. Bring her back home. How can I get there?”

  Maggie O’Donnell cleared her throat and inclined her head. “I could—”

  “No you can’t.” Aaron’s gaze locked onto her. “You are not a team member. You’re on loan from the Air Force and under my command. And you couldn’t use the Xi-1 in any case. It’s government owned, and Russian radar would pick it up the moment it crossed into their airspace, causing an international incident.”

  Thumping the table with his fist, Joel rose to confront his old FBI partner. “Aaron—”

  “My hands are tied here. There’s something rotten in the chain of command, I acknowledge that. I’ve been ordered to stay out of this. I want to help Dove. I really do. But there’s nothing we can do . . . officially.” That last word spoken through clenched teeth. Aaron sighed and lowered his head. “That doesn’t mean I’m giving up on Dove.”

  Wylde growled. “Then what exactly are you doing? Sending out thoughts and prayers? I’m wasting my time here.”

  He stormed from the room.

  Damn it. He couldn’t even drive a car. How the hell was he going to get to Siberia?

  Chapter 6

  Dove woke to the drone of a jet engine ringing in her ears. The insistent whine didn’t help the pounding between her eyes at all. Fucking knock-out drugs. It made her feel bad for the animals she’d had to tranq.

  Did they wake up feeling this lousy?

  She was sitting upright in a cushioned seat, her wrists taped to the arm rests. The duct tape had been removed from her mouth, but now she had something hooding her head. So Randy didn’t care if she cried out, but he didn’t want her to see anything.

  The airplane bucked as it hit some turbulence.

  Either that or they were landing, but the engines continued to whine at the same frequency, so probably not.

  Might as well dive into it.

  “Where are we?” Not that she expected a response.

  “Ah, you’re awake.” The voice had a familiar tone, but the accent was wrong. Russian or Slavic.

  It took her a moment to connect the voice to Randy. When had he developed an accent?

  A hand patted her knee. “We’re almost home.”

  “Any chance you’re going to tell me where that is?” Bastard.

  He chuckled. “It is nice to know you are keeping your sense of humor. Everything will be revealed to you soon, but not by me.”

  Time passed, though how much was hard to say. Dove lost herself in her thoughts, took calming breaths, and tried as hard as she could to distance herself from whatever was happening to her.

  Her mind drifted to John Wylde and that last view she’d had of him, naked and standing in the snow. Silly man.

  Yet, most certainly his own man. Or wolf. Which did he consider himself?

  And damn, so sexy.

  That had been a surprise. Until they’d recently reconnected she’d only known him as little Johnny Wylde, the string bean she’d spent hours playing with. Comic book superheroes, Transformers, Ninja Turtles. Occasionally she could con him into playing with her My Little Ponies, as long as G. I. Joe could ride on their backs. God, the adventures they created.

  She’d wanted adventure back then, thinking her dad’s life of science in a lab was so boring. And then she’d grown up to do the same thing.

  And now it appeared adventure had found her in spite of it all.

  Not really the kind of adventure I was hoping for.

  In her play, she’d always been the heroine, not the victim. She hated how helpless she was. Could she gain some control of this situation? I need to keep my eyes open and my wits about me. Keep looking for any possible escape.

  ~ ~ ~

  The plane touched down, rumbling to a stop. After Randy pulled lose the duct tape binding her hands to the seat, Dove was guided, still blindfolded, down a set of stairs and into some kind of vehicle.

  “If you do not attempt to remove your hood, I will allow you to keep your hands free.”

  At least she could scratch that annoying itch on the side of her nose.

  The bag over her head was soft, possibly cotton, but dense enough to not let any light through, so probably not a regular pillow case. Were there cloth bags made specifically to put over kidnap victim’s heads?

  For some reason, her thoughts went on to create a little boutique shop in the mall where kidnappers could go to buy their accessories. Rope, knock-out drugs, duct tape, head bags in dozens of designer colors. Okay, letting my mind wonder has helped me forget how horrible my situation is, but maybe I’ve gone a bit too far.

  Still, there wasn’t much else she could do.

  And Dove was good at living in her head. It’s how she played with ideas in her work and had come up with many of the breakthroughs in her research. She’d let her mind wander down any pathway it chose, and sometimes ended up somewhere she’d never have expected.

  She was often asked, “How in the world did you come to that conclusion?” She rarely had an answer that made any sense to anyone but herself.

  At the same time as her mind went on flights of fantasy, she could also run gene sequences on her current projects and tag certain strands of DNA with known traits she could reference for possible cross breeding.

  Even with its long history, genetics still had a long way to go, and plenty of room for creativity within its structures.

  Or, as William Wylde had done in his experiments, one could go outside its structures. No, she’d never stoop that low. It still galled her that the man had actually performed gene-splicing experiments on his own son.

  Poor John. Was it any wonder he’d developed his author delusion. Just as she’d used fantasy to enhance her work, John used it as an escape from his gruesome reality. And it gave him someone to blame instead of his father.

  Damn the man. How could anyone have so little love for his own child?

  The vehicle came to a halt. Doors opened, and crisp, wintery air whirled around Dove. A flutter swept through her stomach. What now?

  “You may remove the hood, Dove. We have arrived.” Randy left the seat beside her.

  She whisked the cloth bag from her head and blinked back tears as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. Randy’s hooded expression told her nothing as he stood outside the vehicle door, tranq gun in hand.

  Behind him, a heavy metal gate was sliding across an arched passageway in a whitewashed concrete wall. It shut
with a resounding clang. The sound echoed in the chilly air that wafted into the vehicle. Windowed towers, roofed with scarlet shingles, stood on either side of the gateway. Somewhat looking like a fantasy castle wall, but his was no fantasy.

  Randy motioned her out of the car with the barrel of his gun. “Come on.”

  The concrete walls extended out and around a massive, bunker-like compound. Guards occupied the towers and walked the walls, automatic rifles in hand. A paved driveway led from the gateway to this entrance then beyond to a parking lot with about two dozen vehicles, most of them of foreign or unrecognizable make and model.

  Where was she?

  ~ ~ ~

  “Wylde, wait.” Joel called from behind as Wylde exited the headquarters building.

  Snow trickled down from the gray cloud cover, blown by gusts of chill winds. The sun should have been shining, birds should have been singing . . . Dove should have been here.

  Unsure of where to go, how to find passage across the country and across the ocean, Wylde paused to wait for Joel to catch up.

  A wolf stayed in its territory, ran with his pack, and protected his mate.

  Mate?

  Dove was his friend. It didn’t go beyond that. He may not be a wolf, but he certainly wasn’t human anymore. And he didn’t mate with either species.

  Joel put a hand on his shoulder, breaking his chain of thought. “We need you if we’re going to find Dove and bring her back. You’re the only one who knows where this place is.”

  “You would help me?”

  Joel huffed. “We all will. I thought you knew that. There’s something going on with Aaron right now. You can’t take what he said back there at face value. Come on. The real planning meeting is going on in my quarters.”

  He followed Joel back into the mountain headquarters. “I need to get to Russia. That’s where Dove is. I know it.”

  Nodding, Joel opened the door to his apartment. “We believe you. We’ll get you there somehow.”

  Joel’s living space was packed with people. Kayla, Mary, Jimmy, Chris, even Paul Tompkins and some of Pike’s Rangers.

  Maggie O’Donnell held the floor. “Colonel Jamison at Eielson Air Force Base in Alaska has an augmented F-22 Raptor he’s been wantin’ me to test. Better stealth, longer range, new toys. All completely legit, with no questions asked. That’s what I was gonna say when Aaron cut me off.”

  Joel snorted. “He doesn’t want to know. He can’t know right now. Why? I don’t know. He’s not sharing, and I’m not asking, but he’s dealing with some deep, high-level shit, so we just have to cut him some slack.”

  Mary ran her hand down Jimmy’s back. “How does that airplane help us, Maggie?”

  “Well, now.” Maggie shrugged. “They’re wantin’ me to test the stealth by cozien’ into Russian airspace. How far they aren’t sayin’, so deliverin’ a package wherever it wants to go, wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Cocking his head, Joel furrowed his brow. “Isn’t the F-22 a single-seater?”

  “Yes, sir.” Maggie nodded. “Only other place big enough to put a person would be one of the missile bays, and a person would have to be crazy to ride there, far too dangerous. Well, a crazy person, or someone with enhanced healing abilities who could withstand the cold and the jarring about they’d be sure to get.”

  Wylde chuckled. “Maybe someone who fits both categories?”

  She shook her head. “Never said you were crazy, Mr. Wylde.”

  “You could just fly over the compound and drop me like a bomb.” It would hurt, but he’d survive and heal any injuries. Even broken bones mended quickly thanks to the Mutalon in his system.

  Maggie’s eyes went wide. “Now I’d be sayin’ yer crazy. I’d be flyin’ too fast and too high for even your healing factor, I’m guessin’.”

  Probably not. Wylde had yet to test the full extent of his powers but his healing factor had brought him back a couple times from things that should have killed him. The drop couldn’t be much more devastating than being in the heart of an explosion that tore him apart.

  Heather Johnson spoke up. “And there’s no need. Kayla and I have a project on the workbench that fits this situation perfectly.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Wylde perched on the lip of the hanger opening in the Xi Force’s secret mountain headquarters. When closed, the huge door to this bay blended into the cliff face on this side of the mountain. When open there was room to maneuver the big Xi-1 transport plane in and out of the cavernous landing bay.

  The airplane had vertical take-off and landing capabilities, and Maggie O’Donnell flew the craft like it was a part of her. There was enough room in the bay for the Xi-1 and a couple of helicopters as well.

  Over the lip of the landing bay doorway, the cliff face dropped straight a few hundred yards to where snow-covered pines carpeted the lower part of the mountain. If this new invention of Heather and Kayla’s didn’t work, the landing was going to hurt like hell.

  Kayla pulled back after looking over the side. “You’re the only one we’d let test this thing at this stage of development, but with my Mutalon formula running through your body, even if you fall, you’d heal. And even though it also uses Mutalon fibers, and can repair itself, I’d really prefer you didn’t mess up that new uniform.”

  Uniform, ha. It was a costume.

  Kayla designed all of the Xi Force costumes, but Wylde had been able to avoid a fitting. He didn’t need a mask, and there was no way he wearing some skin-tight leotard. Jeans and a T-shirt worked fine.

  Until today.

  At least she’d kept the color scheme to gray, brown, and black. The wolf head design on his chest had more of a graphic T-shirt vibe than a uniform. The pants were comfortable and fit well enough to move in without restricting anything. There was a cowl that covered his head and contained the earpiece for a communication unit in his belt, but his face wasn’t covered and the whole thing was surprisingly comfortable.

  Kayla was an impressive seamstress as well as a capable scientist, and the built-in shit, if it worked, would make the whole thing worth the embarrassment of wearing a costume.

  “I should just jump, I suppose.” This would be easier if his father had grafted some hawk or eagle into his DNA. Wolves didn’t fly, or even glide.

  Kayla patted his shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready. Remember, the micro-button is on the front of the left sleeve cuff.”

  He pulled in a deep breath and leapt off the edge.

  The cliff face flew by as he fumbled with his middle finger to find the button. It was there. He knew it. He’d checked a dozen times before jumping.

  There. A small bump in the material. He pressed.

  With a whoosh, cloth sails extended between his legs, and between his arms and sides. He spread his arms wide and the sails caught the wind, slowing his descent. Small micro-ducts woven into the material redirected the air to give him lift.

  And he sailed, tilting to change his direction.

  So much cooler than he’d expected.

  Catching a thermal gust, he was able to gain a little altitude. This would work.

  He spotted a clear patch below, the grassy lawn at the foot of the mountain near the entrance to the Xi Force Headquarters. Now snow covered, the expanse would make for a softer landing without too many obstructions.

  How soft? He was still moving fast.

  As the ground approached, he kicked forward, gathering as much air in the sails as he could. The technique to break his speed had been described by Heather Johnson, based in all kinds of physics that didn’t make a whole lot of sense to him until he experienced it.

  His landing wasn’t pretty, but it also didn’t hurt, and he was able to stay on his feet so that was something.

  Okay, trial run, over.

 
He was as ready as he’d ever be. It was time to go after Dove.

  Chapter 7

  Frost crystals glistened on the concrete under the light of the almost-full moon, as the icy wind swirled over the tarmac at Eielson Air Force Base. Wylde walked with Maggie O’Donnell at his side and the rest of his team behind, costumed and ready for action. A lone fighter jet awaited them at the end of their trek.

  In the movie version of this novel, this scene is so going to be in slow motion.

  Xi Force was ready, but only as backup. The mission fell to Wylde, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was going to save Dove. It was about time.

  The Xi-1 transport plane had made the cross-country flight from their mountain headquarters to the Alaskan airbase in under two hours, which was still far too long for him.

  Aaron had protested, until Joel confronted him. “Stay and fix whatever is stuck under your craw here, and call us in if you need us.”

  Sighing, Aaron had waved them away. “This isn’t something Xi Force can fix anyway.”

  Which begged the question: What the hell was going on?

  Still, Alaska was as close to Russia as Aaron would allow Maggie to fly the big transport, but at least he’d relented and let them take it. “Just fuckin’ be careful. I don’t need an international incident on top of everything else right now.”

  “You’ll be droppin’ a wee bit further than that hanger bay back at Mount Xi, Mr. Wylde. Sure you’re ready?” Maggie said, strutting beside him.

  The good-natured redhead had a swagger in her step. The Air Force base was her domain, and she sure fit in here, passing their group through security and the top brass in minutes to get to this jet.