by Gennita Low
He nodded. “They don’t lie. You’re tensing even more the deeper I massage. Plus, it’s just going to tighten up again once you get out of the whirlpool. No more swimming tonight or you’ll cramp up. I can feel it knotting under my fingers. See?” He stopped. His gaze was hooded, contemplative. “Helen? Try not to hold your breath like that or you’ll pass out.”
Helen ejected the air from her lungs. He knew. He didn’t say it, but he knew that it had nothing to do with the pain in her leg. It had everything to do with the vibration of the water as his hands moved up and down her leg, each small lap hitting her skin sensuously, over and over, until she could barely breathe. She had to tighten her insides just to keep from groaning out loud. A massage? Relaxation was far, far away. Not even in the same zip code.
“Someone told me you’re Number Eight in the commando hierarchy,” Helen said. “Tell me, Heath, is this part of your job, giving a prognosis for your target?”
“Flyboy’s right. Very little gets past you.”
Actually, it just occurred to her that every one of the commandos she’d gotten to know had, in a way, been evaluating her. “Let me guess. Flyboy’s a pre-serum assessment. Armando fancies himself as my warning or something. Alex Diamond’s an observer. I’m too tired to go on.” Helen gave a shrug and drawled, “Save me some energy, sweetheart. You tell me.”
Heath’s chest shook with silent laughter. She watched as the rivulets of water formed by the heated water trickled slowly down his damp skin. She quickly looked up and saw that he was watching her.
“Following your line of thought, I must be the post-serum assessment,” he said, chuckling softly. “Maybe there’s some truth in that. We’re all curious about the newest member and making our own judgments of your…skills.”
“Fair enough.” She herself was curious about them all. “So tell me your assessment.”
His hand on her knee started kneading again. “I know enough about drugs and their effects on the body and mind,” he said, his voice so low she had to lean forward a little to catch his words. “Add a bit of knowledge about nerves and muscle control, and a target can be rendered very cooperative within minutes, don’t you agree?”
They stared at each other as his hand continued its rhythmic massage. Every few moments Helen felt his finger or thumb pressing a spot by the right side of her thigh. She didn’t stop him.
“This serum’s effect on you,” he continued, not taking his eyes off her, “is of interest to me. I’d like to try SYMBIOS 2 one day and see what it does. Unlike Armando, who’s sensitive to light whenever he uses it, you’re extremely sensitive to touch. I can tell that you’re growing tired, both from exhaustion and from fighting whatever it is that you’re fighting. My assessment? You’re either going to go crazy like Armando when he can’t sleep, or you’ll find a way out of it. Whatever the problem is, let somebody know while you’re experiencing it.”
“Why?” She preferred to tell them later, when she didn’t feel like this. Yes, it was obstinate of her, but right now she didn’t particularly give a fig.
His hands moved a few inches higher. Something dark slipped into his eyes, changing his expression. “It’s coming to a point where you can’t control it. Your muscles are clenching so tightly you can’t even relax. What is it, Helen? What do you want? Tell me.”
His voice and his eyes were mesmerizing. His hand underwater was hypnotic. It made her want to confide, tell him her secrets. Helen pulled away. These COS commandos were dangerous, she reminded herself. Trained to seduce and trained to kill. None of them, it appeared, had a line they wouldn’t cross. And they were all testing to see how far she would go with them.
“An interesting debriefing session,” a voice interrupted. They both turned and looked up. T. walked in, towel in hand. “Derek said I might find you here, Hell.”
Heath stretched out his arms over the sides of the tub. “Excellent timing,” he remarked in a dry voice.
Seventeen
Note to self. When in trouble, ask self WWTD—what would T. do?
Because T. had just walked in there and gotten her operative literally out of hot water. Heath had just sat there in quiet mockery, nodding now and then at T.’s questions, as she handed Helen the towel. T. had then moved to his side.
“I heard that Julie Cummings likes whips and chains,” T. had murmured.
That one sentence had succeeded in Heath taking his eyes off Helen and turning his head to stare up at T.
“Is that right?” he asked, in a rhetorical way.
“Whips, chains, and just enough pain,” T. had continued, leaning a bit closer. “I made a bet with Jed that you wouldn’t be able to handle her, that he’d have to take over and find out her husband’s location himself.”
“Is that so?” he’d asked softly.
T. had smiled bewitchingly. “Yes, that’s so.”
Helen had watched them as she secured her towel. T. was her mentor and obviously knew how to handle these commandos. Second note to self. Learn from the best.
Not long after, T. was helping her into the elevator to her quarters.
Third note to self. Never get into the spa tub naked at this hour of the night. Or day. What the hell time was it?
Helen gave a mental sigh of frustration. She was limping more now. She supposed she was in for a lecture from both T. and Dr. Kirkland.
T. glanced at her. “Overkill has always been my favorite nickname for you,” she remarked. “Or maybe it’s Hellbent.”
“Please, I really don’t want to have a tongue-lashing right now,” Hell said, as she gingerly stepped into the elevator.
She could feel T.’s probing gaze on her, taking in her condition, analyzing, making conclusions. She knew there was concern in there, too, but T. was, first and foremost, her chief. Their friendship was second.
“I should be saying, ‘What were you thinking?’ But I think that’s the problem here. You aren’t your usual self, not without sleep, not with you dealing with remote-viewing downtime as well as exhaustion.”
“And you’re going to ask next, ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’” Helen joked. Everyone was asking her that, so she might as well do it for them. “I’m trying to get there, T. I can’t sleep right now.”
“So you’d rather hang around and let each of them test you?”
“Why are they testing me?” Hell leaned against the elevator wall for support. She was feeling both hot and cold at the same time and had to work at concentrating on T.’s words instead of the sensations.
“Because they are predators, darling, and predators can smell a good hunt. They’re also all males and you were in their domain yesterday and left your mark everywhere. And, now, you’re at your most vulnerable, and each of them thinks he can get you before the other one does.”
Helen stared at T. for a moment. “You worked with them for two years. Pretty closely. Did they do that to you?”
T. shook her head. “I came in at their most vulnerable, after a few of their own were killed, and both our agencies were scrambling a bit. Different circumstances, Hell. I’m not one of them, but you’re going to be part of their team. I never used this serum. Some of them have and they know some things they can’t or won’t share with me. Obviously you’re having certain effects from it or you wouldn’t be stupid enough to be in the same room with Number Eight while he’s in interrogation mode.” The “pling” of the elevator announced their arrival at Helen’s floor. T. offered Helen her shoulder. “Need help?”
Helen noticed that T. didn’t attempt to touch her. She placed a hand on her chief’s shoulder for support. She suddenly realized that touching didn’t make her feel; it was being touched that was causing the problems. T. seemed to understand that.
“Thank you,” Helen said, and she didn’t mean just for the offer of support.
“You’re welcome.”
“That doesn’t mean I couldn’t have handled Heath,” Helen said as they walked slowly.
“Of course,” T. s
aid with a small smile. “Now tell me why you think you can’t sleep when you look like you’re falling over from exhaustion.”
“Actually, I’ve only been feeling the exhaustion the last fifteen minutes. Before that, the pain and tiredness were barely there. I was hoping the swimming would accelerate it and maybe it did, but the other stuff hadn’t gone away.”
“What other stuff?”
Helen told her about the strange sensations, how she had been overwhelmed by them, and how she had to really focus on conversation or physical activity to take the edge off. T. listened silently, not asking questions, as she continued to try to explain what was happening, including what Armando had told her.
They reached Helen’s quarters and Helen keyed in the access codes. The grayness of the surroundings was, for once, comforting. The color had been found to be suitable for remote-viewing activity because it behaved like white noise to the senses, cutting out mental interference. Whether it was true or a bunch of BS, it was working for Helen just enough that she felt some control returning. Just a little bit.
“They’re going to wake up Dr. Kirkland now that you’re back in quarters,” T. said. “When he calls, let him know I’m here supervising you and that it won’t be necessary for him or his assistants to help you. They can monitor your vitals and do all that brain wave entrainment stuff from their control room.”
Oh, good. Helen nodded. That had been partly the reason for not going to bed sooner. She hadn’t wanted anyone to touch her. Even in her strange mood, she’d been aware that physical contact was setting her off. T. was obviously coming to that conclusion too.
“This thing that Armando said was part of the aftereffects—the reckoning—I’m thinking that he’s telling the truth,” T. said. “I know he’s cryptic. He’s like that, even before I brought him in for training.”
“You brought him into CCC?” Helen asked, surprised. She pulled out a large T-shirt to sleep in from the chest of drawers by her bed.
“Yes. He isn’t a full commando yet, but he’s as bad as they are. But the cryptic talk, he did that before the drugs. He was, in another life, one of the many young siblings under the Triad brothers, and they all tended to learn to talk in double meanings, mostly because of the power struggles within their crime and cultural framework.”
The communication module buzzed, interrupting T. It was Dr. Kirkland, his voice scratchy from sleep. Poor man. Helen felt bad that he’d had to be woken up several times because of her. She told him that T. was there to help her with setting up for sleep, and that there wasn’t any need for him or Derek to come by. He agreed and told her to note down the time she activated the brain entrainment machine, just to double check with their records and reading tomorrow, and after asking her how her leg was, he bade her good-night.
“Go on, T., hearing about Armando’s background helps me understand.” And concentrate on getting ready, instead of getting distracted by the way her T-shirt had slid over her skin and the softness of the blanket on the bed as she busied herself turning it over. “That cart next to you with all the gadgets goes to the right side of my bed, by the way.”
“Read the files tomorrow,” T. told her. She pushed the cart Helen had indicated and watched as Helen poured herself a glass of water from the jug on the nightstand. “Back to what Armando told you about the body chemistry compensating once the serum is gone from the body. I think he might have your problem in a nutshell.”
Helen took a long sip of water. She was thirsty suddenly. She took another gulp. Yeah, she was definitely winding down.
“If it’s true, then now what?” She finished her drink and set the glass down for another refill. “I’m getting tired. Very quickly.”
“Maybe it’ll go away after you sleep.”
On cue, Helen yawned. Maybe she could finally sleep after all. “I hope so.”
“We’ll talk more about this tomorrow when you can think more clearly. Perhaps comparing your vital stats pre-and post-operation will provide Dr. Kirkland with a clue. Do you want me to talk to him for you?”
Helen looked up in surprise. She hadn’t seen T. so protective in ages. Of course, it’d been two years since she had actually been around T. during an operation. Her chief was probably worried that her being out of the field for so long had made her a wimp.
“No, I’ll do that,” Helen said. “I just didn’t feel like being handled by anyone tonight, but once this condition goes away, it’ll be okay. I’m really fine.”
T. studied her for a moment. “Ready for bed, then? Tell me what I have to do with these things,” she said, gesturing to the equipment on the tray.
“Look scary, don’t they?” Helen asked, with a small grin. “I put on these tabs on my pulse points. That’s the ear plugs for the brain entrainment machine. As soon as I’m ready, that’s the switch and once it’s powered, it’ll transmit information to their control room. I need you to record down the first reading so they can pinpoint where to start their comparison from their charts.”
T. handed her the tab transmitters and watched her fix them on different parts of her body. “Before I go, I want back the ring I gave you,” she said.
Aha. Now she knew why T. had been looking for her. She pulled off the ring and handed it to T. “Are you going to tell me why you gave it to me in the first place?” she asked casually.
T. pocketed the ring. “After your rest. I would tell you tonight, but you’ll be asleep by the time I’m done. You truly look like hell now.”
“Thanks.” She’d probably feel like hell when she woke up, too. If she weren’t getting so tired, she’d laugh at her own pun. “If you talk to my monitor before I do, tell him the RV session details were exact as we saw them. I’ve made a recording with the microdigital. Give it to him.”
“Okay.”
Helen smiled sleepily. “Gotcha. You do talk to him. In fact, he probably sent you here tonight. Everyone’s been trying to get me to—” she yawned loudly “—bed. He was probably tired of being kept waiting. Men are so impatient.”
T. smiled back. She turned the switch on and after a minute, wrote down all the readings on the chart. She turned back to Helen. “Good night.”
Helen nodded. After T. had turned off the lights and left, she kicked off the sheet. The feel of it was distracting. Concentrate on the sound waves. Sleep. She found herself drifting off. Her T-shirt was so damn bothersome. She thought about removing it. She lifted a hand tiredly, tugging at the material. It brushed across her nipples. She moaned softly as she fell asleep.
He walked into the water, determined to get to her. She was naked, her breasts bobbing in and out as she bounced up and down. Her eyes were closed as he approached her, walking deeper and deeper in the water.
Just when he reached her, her eyes opened. Pretty hazel eyes, the kind that changed colors depending on her mood. Right now, they reflected back the green of the water, mysterious and tempting.
He wanted her a lot closer. He grasped her by the waist and easily lifted her high enough so he could examine those beautiful breasts at eye level. So beautiful. He had wanted to have those nipples in his mouth the first time she’d stripped naked. He leaned in and took one of them delicately between his teeth. His tongue flicked at it gently. And just like that he was hard as a rock.
She moaned and squirmed closer against him, burying his face into her softness as he moved toward the shallow end of the pool. He wanted to bury something else. A lot deeper. Impatiently, he pushed her against the cool tiles of the swimming pool wall, still holding her by the waist. Her thighs parted willingly, wrapping themselves around his torso.
His palms slid over her wet bare thighs, his thumbs forming an inverted V right above her clitoris. She sighed and shivered, waiting.
He gently sucked at the nipple in his mouth. So delicious. He slid his thumbs lower and parted her lips below, readying her. Hot. He could feel the surge of deep need pushing up, insisting—demanding—to be inside her now. She moaned again as his thumbs r
uthlessly readied her, using her slick wetness to torment and pleasure.
“Yesssss…” she gasped as he lowered her back into the water, pushing his erection intimately against her heat. He positioned them both so he could enter, and as he pushed her relentlessly down on his erection, his thumb added a touch of pressure on her sensitive nub. She moaned throatily into his ear as she slid lower, as he went deeper inside her. He shuddered at the feel of her softness, and pushed her down harder.
“Hades!” she gasped.
He opened his eyes. Darkness. His breathing was erratic. Sweet Jesus. He kicked the sheet off his body. The cool air hit the heat between his legs. He reached down and fisted his penis, painfully hard and erect.
He was so damn close to coming he actually felt light-headed from the need to finish off. He squeezed the head of his penis, willing the fierce raging need down. Not working.
The urgency to finish off where his erotic dream had ended fought his usual ironclad will. He hadn’t had that kind of dream about a specific woman in a long time. Helen’s naked body in the water was imprinted in his brain tonight. The way she had fingered her nipples and moaned. That was why he dreamed about it. He’d wanted to do exactly what he had dreamed—suck on the nipples, play with her pussy till she moaned like that for him.
He felt his erection harden again, lengthening, and pleasure shot through him as he lazily slid his hand down, his eyes half closing as he thought about Helen’s breasts and being inside her, and up again, in long measured strokes, the way he’d wanted to move inside her. She had felt so…damn…good. His eyes closed as he concentrated on his surging pleasure. If he were really inside her now, he would grind against her hard. Like this. And like this. He would bury himself so deep inside her, she’d moan his name out.
“Hades!”
He stopped, his desire raging at the second interruption. That wasn’t his fantasy. That—he turned his head to look at the monitor by his bed—came from Helen’s quarters.
