by Tasha Black
Cordelia decided to open with another tactic she’d learned from West. She relaxed in her chair, waiting for Peter to speak first. At length, he did.
“Look, if this is another attempt at patching things up between West and me,” Peter said. “I think we’re a little bit past that point now. He hasn’t reached out to me in months.”
“Oh,” Cordelia said. “West is fine.”
“Then why isn’t he back at work?” Peter asked.
“It’s complicated,” she replied.
She was saved by the arrival of the waiter. He was a skinny guy with a shaggy hair cut who looked as if he might be wandering over to their table to get directions, instead of taking their orders.
“All set?” he asked, nodding at them many times, as if they all shared a secret or were part of some invisible drum circle.
Peter gestured to Cordelia.
“Go ahead,” she said, shaking her head.
“I’ll have a dark roast, black, with a shot of espresso,” he told the waiter.
That sounded absolutely disgusting.
“That sounds great,” she told the waiter with a half smile. “Make it two.”
He jotted something down and scurried off.
“So, if it’s not about West, then why did you ask me to meet you here?” Peter asked.
Inwardly, Cordelia howled with pain.
Because I can’t be so close to West without being with him romantically. But I have to hold out for Jess. I’ve been spending all my time at work, but West will be coming back to work soon. Which leaves me no choice but…
“It’s about the job,” she said crisply. “Last time we spoke, you told me you had a position for me at your new venture. I may be making some changes in the near future, and I just wanted to see if the offer was still good.”
Peter looked a little surprised, but he recovered quickly.
“Of course. And I’m really sorry if things are not going well for you. Whatever childish bullshit happened between West and me, I would never want anything bad to happen to you.”
“Thanks,” she replied, thinking that it was something that he hadn’t said I told you so.
The waiter slunk back over with their coffee. He set down two plain white mugs of steaming coffee the color of rich soil in front of them with a weird little motion that might have been a half-hearted flourish. Then he turned and left, wiping his hands dramatically on his jeans.
Peter grabbed his immediately. He took a sip, then closed his eyes with an expression of utter bliss.
Cordelia took a hesitant sip.
It tasted like someone had tried to make tea from burnt cat hair. She managed to choke it down, but she replaced the mug on the table so as not to absent-mindedly take another sip.
She looked up and saw that Peter had taken out a business card and a pen.
He flipped the card to the blank side and wrote: “C. Cross”. Then under that: “Start Date”.
“So when do you need to start?” he asked.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure. Probably within the next few weeks,” Cordelia hedged. There was so much to wrap up at Worthington Enterprises. She couldn’t just walk away.
Peter added a question mark.
“No problem,” he said, jotting down a phone number. “When you have a solid timeframe, just call this number, that’s my direct line. I’ll get you set up.”
“Thanks,” she said, trying not to tear up. Peter was being so kind.
“Can I ask what is prompting the change? I understand you’re at the top of the food chain at Worthington these days,” he said, leaning in.
“It’s… complicated,” she said again.
“Fair enough,” he leaned back to take a sip of his coffee.
She tried another sip. It was worse than the first.
“So, how’s your sis?” he asked her with a smile.
“She’s doing okay,” Cordelia said, grateful that he remembered Jess. She tried not to let her mind get stuck on the question of why Jess wasn’t at Med Pros yet.
It was hard not to think about the last time she talked to Peter. He’d told her West would find a carrot to dangle, something she wanted, just out of reach.
That’s couldn’t be what he was doing with Jess, though. No one could be so cruel. Could they?
Peter put his hand on hers, as if he had read her face.
His hand was so warm from holding the coffee. The warmth soaked into her with a soothing radiance. It felt so nice.
“It sounds like you have a lot going on,” he said. “If you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me. No pressure. Take your time. We’ll find a way to make this work, Cordelia.”
Why was he so nice? Why was everyone so nice, when she felt like such a monster?
“I know,” she replied. “It’s just too hard to be around him ever since…”
Since I fell in love with him, she didn’t let herself say.
She shouldn’t be talking about this with Peter. But who else did she have? Her friends from the zoo were all gone. Dalton was gone. Between pushing West away and protecting Jess and her mother from her worries, Cordelia was left to absorb it all herself.
“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,” Peter said, pushing the business card over to her. “Just call me when you’re ready to take this to the next level.”
“I will,” she assured him.
Just then there was a loud metallic crunch behind her, like someone had dropped one of the insulated cream containers.
“Whoa,” the shaggy waiter said from behind the front counter.
By the time she turned around, all she saw was the door swinging closed. Outside, horns blared.
She turned back to Peter.
He was standing up to leave, a small smile playing around the corners of his lips.
Cordelia scrambled to her feet and extended her hand.
“Thank you,” she said, “for the job, for understanding, for everything.”
“I should be thanking you,” he told her earnestly. “It will be a privilege to have you onboard, one that I’m very much looking forward to.”
He was gone in a moment.
Cordelia grabbed her coffee mug and headed to the small table by the main counter, wondering if there was enough cream and sugar in the world to save her coffee.
29
The sky was pink over Glacier City, the buildings blushing in its lazy glow. It reminded West of the warm blush on Cordelia’s cheeks that first night he had realized that she meant more to him than hot coffee and a well-planned schedule.
West loved the city - it was here that he felt most alive and purposeful. He picked up his stride with joy in his heart.
For so many weeks he had been afraid to talk to Cordelia, afraid that he would scare her away if she felt pushed to make a choice.
But their adventure the other night made it clear. He loved her. He loved to be with her, she was brave, she was strong, she was funny and she made him want to be a better person.
He thought maybe he was a better person already.
He would rather risk it all, than live this life half with her, half without.
And down to his bones - both real and titanium - he knew she loved him too. They made a great team, whether they were running a major corporation or chasing bad guys.
West was keeping a low profile today, as always, but he wasn’t really worried about being recognized.
He’d finally put together that the strange feeling he’d had when the police caught them at the zoo the other night. It had been relief. He needed to come back to work, back to life. It was the reason he was coming to see her - or at least the way to get the door open.
Just before he reached the familiar glass curve of the Worthington Enterprises building, stretching up toward the heavens, he noticed the maroon sign for Kava.
Perfect. He would grab two coffees and bring them by. Cord would love that.
He swung the door open and stepped in. The air was rich with the scent of co
ffee. He took his place in line, for once not tapping his foot with impatience.
The lady ahead of him was very slowly ordering some kind of blended mocha frappe. Sounded more like a dessert than a coffee to West, but he wasn’t feeling judgmental today.
The sound of the blender reverberated off the high ceiling.
As the barista swiped the frappe lady’s card, he heard a familiar voice in the cafe behind him.
“No pressure. Take your time.”
Peter.
West’s peculiar benevolence was expansive enough to make room for Peter Watson today. Instead of feeling angry, West felt something like humility. It had been too long. Peter was his close friend. After what West had been through, their falling out now seemed silly. He should be the one to extend the olive branch and let Peter save face for once.
He was about to turn around when he heard Peter’s next words.
“We’ll find a way to make this work, Cordelia,” Peter said earnestly.
Cordelia? What the hell?
But Miss Frappe had left, and the barista was looking at him, waiting for an order.
Unable to speak, West scanned the counter and snatched up a stainless steel coffee mug to hand over.
“I know,” another voice from behind replied to Peter.
He didn’t need to turn around to know that voice. Just the sound of her had already set his pulse racing. Cordelia.
His Cordelia.
“It’s just too hard to be around him ever since…”
Since the injuries, West’s mind offered up immediately. Since he’s not really all human anymore.
The barista gave him a sarcastic look.
“Will that be ALL?” he nodded to the line behind him.
West nodded and deposited a handful of wrinkled bills on the counter.
“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. Just call me when you’re ready to take this to the next level,” he heard Peter tell Cord.
“I will,” she replied, her sweet voice slicing through West like a sword.
West’s hand closed involuntarily on the coffee mug, crumpling the steel like a used tissue. Like his heart felt right at that moment.
“Whoa,” the barista said.
He dropped the cup like it was on fire, and bolted through the door and out into the street.
Horns blared, and a few angry words followed him.
West didn’t care. He just kept running.
As if he might be able to outrun the words he just heard.
30
Dalton crossed the deck bridge toward the old veterinary center as the sun disappeared behind the trees.
Though there were no zoo animals left, the place was still alive with the sounds of local wildlife. Night insects chorused, and every now and then an owl gave a mournful hoot from one of the trees above.
Dalton wasn’t looking forward to having a physical after the day’s exertions. But the work had left him feeling mentally recharged.
The soldiers were doing well, very well. They were a bit rough around the edges. But given their circumstances, Dalton was impressed.
With the right leadership in the field, they might just be okay.
It troubled him, though, that Sterling had been so vague about their deployment plans. Clearly these soldiers weren’t being trained this hard just to sit around.
Whoever was funding the operation must have plans for the finished product of all this expense and effort. There had to be an endgame for what could end up being the strongest and fiercest unit Dalton had ever seen to go into battle. If they had control of themselves.
And if they could get to the bottom of what was in Dalton’s own blood, then it just might happen.
Dalton was torn between loyalty to his friend and a desire to see an end to the suffering of these soldiers. If Med Pros had concocted something that could help them, wasn’t sharing it the right thing to do?
But there were two questions that chased each other around and around in his head:
How and where would these soldiers be used?
If Sterling didn’t volunteer that information, did it mean she thought he wouldn’t approve?
The drills they were practicing were definitely for an urban environment, but that didn’t really narrow it down much.
Dalton would need to access the computer system to get answers.
At least he still had a few days before they brought in the equipment to analyze a fresh blood sample from him. Surely he could find an opportunity.
He just needed a computer, or a frank talk with Sterling. Preferably both.
But he hadn’t seen Sterling all day.
Why? She seemed to love watching him with the men. It made him feel like he was back in college, with a cheerleader girlfriend looking on proudly, as he huddled up with the guys. If that cheerleader girlfriend had been capable of single-handedly wiping out half the team, that was.
But not today. What was she up to?
He arrived at the testing center as the sun finally disappeared behind the horizon.
The abandoned zoo had an eerie beauty even in the harsh security light over the building. The ferns that waved over the path could have been at home in any real jungle in the world.
He pushed open the metal door and found himself in the small lobby.
No Sterling waiting for him.
Good.
“Hey Sgt. Dalton, thanks for coming in. Please come this way,” a tech said. The boy’s sandy hair and freckles made him seem too young to be in this grown up place.
He led Dalton to an exam room, where he took a seat on a metal table with a stainless steel ring on each corner.
“They’re from when it was the zoo, sir,” the kid explained. “The animals had to be strapped down.”
Dalton tried not to shudder. The room suddenly felt too small.
“We’ll just be taking vitals and samples today, sir,” the boy reassured him.
Dalton cursed himself for being so easy to read.
“Thanks, Private,” he replied coolly.
Another kid arrived, this one dark haired and silent. The two began fussing over him. One took his temp while the other tried to close a blood pressure sleeve onto his arm, but had to leave and come back with an extender for it. Dalton couldn’t help a small twinge of pride at that. All those pushups must be working.
As they completed their ministrations, the doctor arrived, a young black man, with glasses and a trim physique.
“Hello, Sgt. Dalton,” he said, with a slight Caribbean accent.
“Doc,” Dalton nodded in acknowledgement.
The doctor bent over his tablet to record the results the techs had compiled.
While the doctor focused on his task, Dalton took in the room.
As he expected, there was a security camera in the corner of the room.
Dalton knew the security feed was monitored. If anything looked suspicious in here, he’d have about two minutes before there was a response.
Though Sterling had told him his collar was deactivated, he didn’t completely believe her. What if she decided to reactivate it?
It wasn’t worth the risk, at least not yet. He would have to bide his time and learn what he could in the meantime.
The intercom crackled.
“Dr. Castillo?” Sterling’s voice came through, fractured slightly by static.
“Yes, Ma’am?” the doctor replied immediately.
“Dr. Harper is set up with the new equipment in lab three,” she said.
So that was what Sterling had been up to.
“Can you draw a fresh blood sample from Sergeant Dalton and send it over for analysis?” she continued.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Castillo replied.
The intercom clicked off.
So much for biding his time.
Dalton couldn’t help but wonder fleetingly if Sterling had known all along what he would do if she told him the equipment was in.
One of the techs left the room for something.
> The freckled one tied off Dalton’s arm at the elbow and began to swab the inside of his forearm to prepare for the needle.
Dalton closed his eyes and called on the power inside himself.
Instantly, the beast was on him, quivering with glee, its excitement building and swelling, threatening to crash over him like a wave.
He held it there, just below the surface, a crocodile lurking in the dark water.
31
West stared up at the fence.
In the end, he found himself in the place he had always retreated to when darkness threatened to consume him. But this time he had a greater purpose.
The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, but the darkness didn’t present a problem this time.
Mallory’s newly developed eye was equipped with the latest in short wave infrared technology, allowing him to see in total darkness. The infrared would kick on whenever there wasn’t enough light for normal vision. West could also switch it on and off manually, but that took concentration.
He gazed through the fence and down the path. He could see all the way to the buildings, clear as day, although the color was washed out. He could even make out the white chicory flowers dotting the field. The flowers Cordelia had correctly identified as the source of the white powder in Dalton’s apartment.
Cordelia…
West’s chest tightened again at the thought of her.
He’d wandered all day after that trip to the coffee shop. He hadn’t known what to do next, and couldn’t think enough to make a plan.
The pain was raw, like his skin had been ripped off. Everything was spinning out of control.
And he was alone.
He’d latched on to one thought, like a drowning man on a piece of driftwood.
He’d kept roaming until sunset, then headed here.
Somewhere behind this fence, was Edward Dalton, the only friend he had left.
And his friend was in trouble.
Somewhere behind this 12-foot tall, razor wire topped fence.
West knew that tearing a hole would trigger the alarm again.
He wished he had come here with a plan. But his mind had been… other places.
He eyed up the fence. It was 12 feet tall, maybe 14 with the razor wire.
