“Is that the doctor?” she asked quietly.
“I guess so.”
The man unlocked the door of the clinic, pushed it open, stepped in, and turned on the light. Sofia and Kyle followed. The man turned to face them. Sofia gasped. Kyle took a step back.
The man’s pale blond hair was cropped short, and it accentuated the stark perfection of his sculptured features, marred only by a nearly invisible scar on the right side of his face, from ear to chin. His eyes were dark, almost black.
He was instantly recognizable.
The stunned whisper ripped from Kyle’s throat. “Galahad?”
Everyone knew Galahad, or at least knew of Galahad, the genetically engineered perfect human being created by Pioneer Labs.
Sofia breathed softly, almost reverently. “No, you’re not Galahad. You’re his physical template. You’re Danyael Sabre, the alpha empath.”
It wasn’t Galahad. It was worse. Far worse.
To Sofia’s astonishment, Kyle took another step back.
Danyael cast Kyle a glance of veiled amusement. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”
Sofia tried to choke back a giggle and failed. It was ludicrous to hear a cripple say what Danyael had said to a man who was built like a special-ops soldier, but from the alpha empath, it sounded matter-of-fact.
Where Kyle exuded an air of controlled menace, Danyael projected quiet, the kind of silence in which one could hear oneself breathe and think. Danyael did not posture; he had nothing to gain. His reputation had been made. He was not just Galahad’s physical template. He was an alpha empath who could, if rumors were true, heal or kill with a touch.
And he was actually standing in front of her.
She shook her head, breaking out of her reverie. “I’m sorry. It’s like seeing the tooth fairy or the Easter bunny. You’re like…legend.”
Danyael shrugged. “I just work here. Let’s get your arm tended to.” He led the way to the small operating room. “Sit.” He nudged his head toward the narrow bed, and turned around to search the drawers.
Sofia hiked herself up on the operating bed. What did one say to an alpha empath to whom all emotions were transparent? How about starting with the truth? “I’m in a nursing program. I started last fall.”
Danyael turned back to her with a faint smile. He held a scalpel in his hand. “Are you enjoying it?”
“Yes, very much. Is it going to hurt? Shouldn’t you give me a jab or something, or clean the area with antiseptic?”
Danyael chuckled. The sound warmed her as if he had wrapped a soft blanket around her. “If it’ll make you feel better, I can go through the motions, but no, it won’t hurt, and no, you don’t need antiseptic. I’ll clean the wound before I close it.”
Kyle leaned against the doorframe, his face set in stoic lines.
Sofia had intended to talk about her nursing program, but instead, she watched in fascination as, with gentle fingers, Danyael probed the area where the chip had been inserted and then touched the scalpel to her skin. She knew she should have felt something when the scalpel slid into her flesh in an incision that was as deep as it was long. Blood welled up, but the pain never materialized.
No, she was wrong. It appeared in Danyael’s eyes. His jaw tensed, and he closed his eyes briefly, breathing deeply and slowly until the hitch of pain passed.
Danyael set the scalpel down, parted the incision, and with a pair of tweezers, extracted a tiny, bloody microchip. He placed it in a petri dish and looked up at her. “Done.”
The alpha empath placed two fingers on the lowest point of the incision and slowly traced its length. Where his fingers touched, warmth sank into her. The sensation of flesh stitching together was disconcerting, like live worms wriggling, melding into each other. Muscles repaired as if they had never been cut, flesh healed, and finally a thin layer of healthy skin replaced the angry slash of scar tissue that had initially formed over the incision.
Sofia could not manage a word. Her jaw still hung open.
Danyael stepped back. He said nothing either. He rinsed the microchip with cleaning alcohol, and slid it into a small and translucent plastic case no larger than a fingertip. He turned and held it out to her. “Here you go. How do you feel?”
“Great, just great.” She grinned. “Wow, that was amazing. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She stared at the plastic case containing the microchip but did not reach for it. “What do you think is on it?”
Danyael shrugged. “Impossible to guess without an analysis, but based on my limited experience with Proficere’s work, probably something cutting-edge with dangerous implications. Do you want me to give this to Zara?”
“If it’s dangerous, wouldn’t Zara be at risk if she had it?”
He laughed softly. “You’d have to meet Zara to understand.”
Kyle stepped forward and held his hand out.
Danyael did not relinquish the microchip. His dark eyes searched her face.
The choice was hers.
It had been easier to hold on to principles when it was embedded in her arm. It was a great deal harder to reach out to seize it.
Except that she remembered her father’s shuddering shoulders, his arms wrapped around Sofia’s mother. Their heads bowed over the misshapen infant they had lovingly wrapped in a hand-knitted blanket. The child’s face was waxy, her tiny body still. Her eyes had never opened.
The baby who would have been Sofia’s younger sister had been stillborn. The doctors had declared it a mercy. She was deformed, physically and mentally damaged, an innocent victim of a virus Sofia’s mother had contracted while pregnant.
A genetically engineered virus accidentally released from its sterile laboratory confines.
Sofia, then only seven, had crept into the hospital room to stare upon the face of her dead sister, the sister she had wanted with every ounce of her being.
The baby did not even look human.
Sofia’s fingers inched tentatively toward the baby, but did not make contact.
When the nurses finally removed the corpse from the room, guilt plunged through Sofia. She looked back at her mother, at her sagging belly, now bereft of child. Just the prior night, Sofia had pressed her lips to her mother’s swelling stomach. “I can’t wait to love you and play with you. I’m going to give you lots of kisses!”
She had lied.
Sofia blinked back the sting of tears and looked up. Danyael’s eyes were surprisingly gentle, as if he understood. She drew in a deep breath and took the plastic-encased microchip from him. For you, sis.
Danyael turned to Kyle and gestured to his right side. “Did you want me to help with that?”
Alarm flashed across Kyle’s face. He shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”
Danyael shrugged. He steadied the crutch under his arm and limped out of the operating room. Kyle and Sofia followed. Danyael met their eyes. “You should head out before Zara gets here.”
Sofia glanced past Danyael’s shoulder as a sleek black car pulled up to the clinic and parked in front of the No Parking sign.
Kyle grunted. “Too late for that.”
The driver’s door opened, and a woman stepped out onto the cracked pavement. She paid little attention to her surroundings as she opened the back door of her car and leaned in to retrieve something from the backseat.
From the alleyway beside the clinic, two figures peeled out of the shadows and stalked silently toward the woman.
Sofia grabbed Kyle’s wrist. “Kyle—”
Kyle shrugged. “She’s fine.”
Sofia twisted to look at Kyle and Danyael. Kyle looked indifferent, Danyael unconcerned. Neither man appeared inclined to come to the woman’s aid.
The thugs closed the distance. Ten feet became five. Five became two.
Sofia had to do something. She rushed to the clinic door and flung it open.
The woman stepped back and turned.
The two gangsters froze. The man closest
to the woman stared unblinkingly into the muzzle of a handgun an inch from his nose.
The woman’s ruby red lips curved into a smile. “Run away, children.” Her voice was a soft purr. “I don’t have time to play, and you don’t want to die.”
The thugs pulled out switchblades and lunged at the woman.
Sofia blinked, recoiling instinctively. Gasps and thuds filled her momentary disorientation. By the time her mind sorted through the blur of motion, one man was on his back, groaning, and the other had fled, limping. The woman stood, unscathed. “Get lost,” the woman said, an undercurrent of steel in the seductive purr of her voice.
Muttering curses under his breath, the man hobbled to his feet and staggered away, his hands pressed against his crotch. The woman watched until he slunk into a dark alley and then glanced over at Sofia. “You must be Sofia Rios.”
“I…uh…”
The woman slipped her gun back into the shadows of her leather jacket and extracted a sleeping toddler from the car. With a soft grunt and a snore, the toddler settled against her shoulder. The woman turned and strode into the clinic.
Sofia got her first good look at Zara Itani.
Zara was at least half a foot taller than Sofia and attractive, the product of a mixed racial heritage. Blue-black hair framed a fine-featured face dominated by violet eyes. Her skin was the color of bronze honey.
Sofia blinked and took an involuntary step back.
Kyle was a soldier, tough and rough, but something about him seemed inherently trustworthy.
Zara, on the other hand, looked like an assassin. Her stance reminded Sofia of a tiger stalking prey. Not even the angelic blond-haired toddler dozing on Zara’s shoulder could negate the sense of raw danger emanating from her.
Zara’s eyes narrowed when she looked at Danyael, as if assessing him, but she said nothing. When she returned her attention to Sofia, she smiled. For a moment, she could have been just another attractive woman peddling useless luxury goods on a prime-time commercial—all welcome, no threat.
“Miss Rios, I’m sorry for all you’ve endured today, but I assure you, you’re safe now. I’ll arrange for another one of my employees to take you back to Chapel Hill.”
Sofia’s grip tightened around the microchip. “What will happen to this?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Sofia blinked. She had not expected Zara’s frank reply.
“Technically, I’m its custodian, aren’t I?” Sofia asked.
Zara threw her head back and laughed with genuine humor. “Technically, yes, but that oversight can be amended.”
Sofia’s brow furrowed. Was that a threat?
Kyle crossed the small room to stand beside Sofia. His proximity braced her and stiffened her spine.
Sofia met Zara’s eyes. “Do you know what’s on this microchip?”
“No, not yet.”
Her voice quavered. “I intend to find out.”
“I can arrange for the microchip to be analyzed.”
Sofia shook her head. “I don’t think I trust you.”
A low chuckle rumbled from Kyle’s chest. “Smart.”
Zara tilted her head. Her violet eyes narrowed into cold slits.
Sofia’s heart pounded. She swallowed hard through the lump of fear in her throat as Zara reached into her jacket.
Kyle yanked Sofia behind him. In that same instant, Danyael frowned and took a step forward, placing himself between Zara and Sofia. He cast the assassin a warning glance. “Enough.” His dark eyes glittered; his empathic powers flashed.
The tension in the room vanished, its heated edge dulled by the emotional equivalent of a dash of cold water.
Sofia inhaled sharply. She was not certain who was the more dangerous of the two—the assassin, Zara, or the crippled empath, Danyael.
Zara slanted Danyael a quick, annoyed look. “Stop screwing with my emotions. Stay out of this.”
“Too late. You dragged me into it,” was Danyael’s cool answer.
Kyle interceded quickly. “Leave Sofia and the microchip to me. I’ll handle this, figure out what the IGEC’s stake is.”
Zara’s gaze shuttled between Kyle and Sofia, before returning to Kyle. “You have twenty-four hours.”
“Give us forty-eight. If we hit a dead end, we’ll bring the microchip back.”
The assassin scowled.
Danyael reached for Zara’s hand, the gesture casual. Sofia, however, was immediately suspicious of his intentions. An alpha empath of Danyael Sabre’s caliber could not afford to be spontaneous or careless with touch, not when physical contact offered a perfect conduit for his empathic powers.
Sofia was right. Moments later, Zara waved her perfectly manicured hand in a dismissive gesture. “Fine.” She turned to Kyle. “You have forty-eight hours. Go with her. Keep the microchip safe.”
Sofia rolled her eyes. Good to know exactly where she fit in Zara’s grand scheme of things.
The toddler stirred and straightened in Zara’s embrace. She dragged a chubby hand over her eyes. A dazzling smile danced across her face as she extended her arms to Danyael. “Daddy!”
Daddy? Sofia’s wide-eyed gaze flashed between Danyael and Zara. She could not have imagined a more incongruous couple.
Except, their daughter notwithstanding, they were not a couple. Sofia had seen lifelong enemies regard each other with less wariness than Danyael did Zara.
Zara transferred the toddler to Danyael before walking Kyle and Sofia to the door of the clinic. “The last transmission from the microchip would have come from the clinic. How many people are tracking you?”
Sofia’s mouth dropped open. “Have I put Danyael at risk?”
Zara shook her head. “He can take care of himself—and he will, especially now that Laura’s with him. Still, I plan to keep an eye on the clinic for the rest of the day. The IGEC won’t mess with Danyael, not without authorization from the Mutant Affairs Council, so it’s only the Rue Marcha I have to worry about.”
Only the Rue Marcha? Zara had dismissed them as lightly as a forecast of brief afternoon showers.
Kyle frowned. “Are you going to call others in? It’s my mess, Zara, and I can take care of it.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll alert the Anacostia gangs to hang out around the clinic for the next few days.”
“Gangs?” Sofia echoed.
“Danyael’s on good terms with all the gangs in Anacostia. He’s treated just about every gang member since he started working at the free clinic. They’ll keep him safe.” She turned to Sofia. “Where will you go? Back to Chapel Hill?”
Eventually, but not yet. Sofia needed time to clear her head and figure out what to do with the microchip. “I have a town house in Dupont Circle.”
“It’s the first place they’ll look.”
“It’s been listed for sale for the past five months.”
Zara looked thoughtful. “I’ll have Xin hack into the property records and change the title on the town house, at least until this case is over.”
Sofia’s mouth dropped open. “You can do that?”
“Yes, and we’ll handle your real estate agent too. We’ll have to cook up a different story for her, but we’ve done it before, and it’ll be easy. With luck, the Rue Marcha and the IGEC wouldn’t have gotten around to checking your public records yet, and you’ll be able to camp out safely in the town house. I’ll suggest you still keep an eye out for them, though.”
Sofia found Zara’s matter-of-fact tone deeply disturbing.
But Zara was right. Sofia was trapped at the center of a deadly triumvirate.
A South American drug cartel.
The enigmatic and supposedly all-powerful International Genetics and Ethics agency.
Three Fates—composed of mercenaries and assassins—possibly even more dangerous and less bound by ethics than the Rue Marcha and the IGEC.
What the heck had she gotten herself into?
Her fingers trembled, the palm of her hand sweaty ag
ainst the plastic casing around the microchip. Her hand moved, the start of a forward motion to return the microchip.
Kyle’s hand landed on her shoulder—warm, reassuring.
The gesture anchored Sofia enough to meet Zara’s eyes. She would figure it out somehow. Her fist tightened around the microchip.
The fact that Kyle worked for Three Fates faded into irrelevance.
She could count on him to protect her, couldn’t she?
The curve on Zara’s lips was more smirk than smile. She jerked her head at Kyle’s car. “Now, get out of here before someone actually sees you.”
Chapter 5
Kyle felt uneasy when he pulled into a narrow parking lot behind a town house complex close to Dupont Circle. He cut the engine but made no move to open the car door. With an arm on the steering wheel, he turned to give Sofia a look that he hoped was sufficiently intimidating; it had cowed hardened soldiers before. “You’ll be safer in a hotel.”
“Where hundreds of employees have a master key to open your door? I don’t think so.” Not only was Sofia not intimidated, he did not think she even realized he was trying to intimidate her.
The corner of his mouth tugged into a wry half-smile. Yeah, didn’t work, but he had to try. Sofia’s independent and stubborn streak would have given even the notoriously headstrong Zara a run for her money.
Sofia opened the car door, stepped out, and pulled her key chain from her backpack. “The place might be a bit dusty, but it’ll have everything we need.”
He followed her up the narrow steps and threw a glance over his shoulder as she fiddled with the stubborn lock on the back door. No one had followed them, but a nasty coil of tension lodged in the pit of his stomach. He had not scoped out the place, had not plotted his escape routes. He was walking in blind, and he hated it.
Sofia twisted the key. “There!”
He stopped her before she could enter the town house. “I’ll go first.”
“I don’t think—”
He pulled his gun from its holster, pushed the door open, and stepped into the darkened interior.
Sofia sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “Watch your—”
His head rapped sharply against something hard. “What the—?”
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