Dangerous

by Jacquelyn Frank

  “Something I won’t discuss long distance, Micah,” he said directly.

  “Ah. No problem, I’ll catch up when I get back.”

  “When is that, by the way?” he asked, grinning into the phone and knowing what the gist of Micah’s answer was going to be already.

  “Is Roni still mad at me?”

  “Let me put it this way,” Liam said with a laugh, “when you come home and you can’t find your car in long-term parking at the airport, don’t call the cops.”

  “Oh, hell! She didn’t!”

  “Would I lie?”

  “Crap!” Micah added a growl of frustration. “I’m going to kill her.”

  “Then it’s a fight to the finish. Are you going to tell me what you did to piss off our usually mild-mannered partner?” Liam fished hopefully.

  “Are you going to tell me where my Jag is?”

  “No.”

  “Then no.”

  Micah hung up with a loud click.

  Liam hung up his end with a low chuckle. The phone buzzed before he could take his hand away and he rolled his eyes, already knowing who it was.

  “Yeah, Roni?” he greeted.

  “Was that the no-good twerp you call your partner?” she demanded.

  “You call him your partner too,” he reminded her gently.

  “Ha! He’ll be lucky if I call him anything with more than four letters in it ever again!”

  “Veronica Klein, are you ever going to tell me what this is about? I don’t exactly feel comfortable with dissention in the ranks.” Actually, he knew his partners well enough to know it would blow over, but it wouldn’t blow over until Roni got the problem off her chest. Since he was going to be deeply involved in the Candler assignment soon, her venting resources would be limited. Micah could end up banished to Milan until Leo or Kadian came off assignment.

  “I was thinking of inventing a chemical that will melt his current paint job, imbedding itself into the steel of the body so it would then perpetually do the same to every subsequent paint job he attempts to get afterward. Clever, huh?”

  “Extremely clever. However, it’s not appropriate to do it with company funds or equipment, babe.”

  “Well! Since when are you the numbers geek around here?” she demanded huffily. “The geek is off hiding from me, so who cares who does what with company funds? It would serve him right if we go bankrupt while he’s hiding like the chicken-shit wiener that he is!”

  “Now, Roni …”

  “Don’t you ‘now Roni’ me like I’m some hysterical twit PMSing and in need of a pat on the head and some Ben and Jerry’s to get her through the crisis! It’s just like you men to stick together!”

  She hung up with an angry growl into the phone.

  Liam sighed. The world was in a sorry state, he thought, the day it depended on him to be the diplomatic voice of reason.

  Chapter Four

  Devon was tapping her nails against the desk in a slow, rhythmic pattern. She watched the camera monitors as the small fleet of trucks and Hummers wound their way up her driveway. She wasn’t at all upset by the intrusion this installation promised to be. Nor was she nervous about having humans around the house constantly. After all, she had been fully human once upon a time. And, unlike some of her brethren, she found humans to be useful, wonderful people. Like Liam Nash, for instance. He was an extraordinary individual. He was clearly a hardnosed soldier from teeth to toes. Yet she was already aware, after such a brief amount of time in his company, that he was so much more than that. While she wasn’t going to claim to be an expert on him after so limited an exposure, she had noted one very important thing. He had a gentle side. It had been in the delicacy of his touch, the abundance of his concern, as he had put aside his righteously earned indignation at her uninvited touch in order to tend to her well-being. The contrast between those two facets had kept her thinking about him frequently over the past couple of days.

  Even though the images on the screens were distorted by the camera angles, Devon knew him the moment she saw him jump out of the back of a truck. There were men and women running around all over the place now, all dressed in what she assumed was identical black, but still she recognized him. How could anyone mistake a build like his? His height alone was astounding, even to a woman of her 5’9” stature. Add to it pounds of muscle in beautifully strategic places, a rugged but surprisingly handsome face, and strange amber colored eyes with gold and umber flecks in them. Devon was unaware that she lightly licked her lips as she admired the broad field of his chest and the sinew roping down his arms. His black T-shirt clung to both like a second skin. She licked her lips again, wondering if he had any body art. Human body art was fascinating to her. Because of the way Morphates healed, their bodies refused to hold the ink of any tattoo not acquired before their transformation into Morphates. The art would fade, like any other foreign injury, within a few days. She really rather wished she’d been the type to get tattoos before she’d had her run-in with Dr. Eric Paulson. On the other hand, living with artwork forever seemed like a very long time, and right now it didn’t look like Morphates were ever going to age.

  Devon let her eyes move over Nash as he hauled things off the truck, his huge body twisting and bending with fluid ease. His strong, muscular legs glided and bent as needed, showing no hint of error in movement despite the awful leg wounds he had suffered during the previously mentioned encounter with a Morphate while in the Secret Service.

  Devon wondered if his crew knew he was the first human, the first person, to ever figure out how to permanently destroy a Morphate. His report had claimed it to be a stroke of luck, and so it might have been, but it wasn’t as though the weapon were a mainstream material or, as he had mentioned, anything a human being would willingly want to touch for fear of its toxicity.

  Irradiated mercury.

  Devon had gleaned from her conversation with Nash that his team could be appropriately armed with mercury-filled bullets. She had to assume that meant they were trained in the handling of them as well as their purpose. The toxic ammunition, while instantly fatal to Morphates, was potentially just as poisonous to anyone who handled it. Mercury broke down body tissue on contact no matter what the species. Radioactive mercury … well, that was a no-brainer.

  Mercury ammunition was ineffective without a way for the liquid metal to break out of the bullet. Often, when a bullet impacted the internal bone structure of the body, it would deform on impact, which would release any substance contained within the bullet. However, just as often it would remain intact. The shooter couldn’t depend on those odds when in a fight for his or her life. At present, those who knew about the effects of mercury on Morphates used bullets tipped with a wax-like substance. It held the mercury in during storage, as well as for the duration of the trip down the gun barrel and to the target, but dissolved quickly at body temperature. The result was effective and deadly, culminating in a gaseous cloud of Morphate remains.

  However, accidents were frequent and misfires dangerous or deadly. The ammunition couldn’t be used in the summer safely when high temperatures threatened the special wax plugs. Carelessness could end in mercury leaking everywhere, poisoning the weapon’s carrier. The delivery system, as Nash had pointed out, was flawed and unstable and had needed dire improvement.

  Devon had seen to it that the military would court Candler International for the solution, and she was in the process of providing one. The first prototypes were resting carefully in the armory behind the surveillance room she now sat in. She would introduce Nash to them shortly. She smiled when she thought of how his face would awaken with excitement, just as it had when she’d told him she’d come up with the solution in the first place.

  Just like it had when she’d touched him.

  Mmm, an unsafe thought, she scolded herself as she watched him move and speak with his team. He was a beautiful specimen of masculinity, there was no denying that, and part of her itched to get a peek at the underlying sexuality she s
ensed within him, but unfortunately they were going to have a working relationship and she always felt that it was best if work and play remained separate. Besides, it was one thing for her to work with, make friends with, and come to rely on humans, and quite another to sleep with them.

  Oh, it wasn’t unheard of. There were humans out there who could tolerate the savageness of Morphate lovemaking. In fact, some sought it out specifically for its roughness and, of course, the blood drinking aspects. But it was something of an unspoken understanding among lawful Morphates that humans ought to be avoided whenever possible, especially in this respect.

  However, there were also unlawful Morphates. Morphates who looked on humans as lesser individuals, with no more or even less value than a domesticated animal. That led to a frightening devaluation. Those Morphates thought it all right to use humans and discard them cruelly. So far such activity had not been discovered by mainstream humans, but rumors were beginning to circulate … even more so now that Dark Phoenix had broken free of the Alpha Council and its laws. And if humans knew just how savage and psychotic these unlawful Morphates could be, relations between the races would devolve into chaos.

  But in the present climate of Morphate rebellion and feuding, discovery was only a matter of time. That was why it was so crucial that Morphates and humans alike discover ways to protect themselves against the superhuman strength and savagery of the unlawful Morphates. Perhaps just knowing protection existed would help curb the unlawful Morphates.

  As for herself, Devon wasn’t fond of lying and passing herself off as just another human. Nor would she ever use a human in such base and evil ways. She found humans to be spirited and beautiful. She, unlike some, remembered that she had once been a human, and she remembered what human cruelty had felt like when she had been stripped of all her rights and been experimented on by Dr. Paulson until she had become what she was now.

  If she ever did indulge in relations with a human, it would have to be with the truth between them. Otherwise, she would be no better than the beastly worst of her arrogant brethren.

  And they disgusted her.

  Morphates had the potential to be a wonderful species. Devon believed that with all of her heart and her soul. But things had gotten out of control, the decades of focus spent on trying to rebuild Dark Cities that had devolved into chaos and filth had been unbelievably hard on both the original Morphates and their new generations.

  Devon remembered those days all too well.

  But that had been a very long time ago. Many things had changed, and now she felt it was time for a little equalization between Morphates and humans. Before it was too late. Before humans found themselves overrun and overpowered and all their best ideals stolen from them.

  And yes, she had a private agenda. Devon was playing a dangerous game, and now she was dragging more innocents into the fray by protecting herself with the humans from NHK. But she couldn’t use a Morphate protection force, not considering the details of her research and its purpose. For although Nash thought he was protecting her, what he was actually protecting was her research and the prototypes. But NHK at least would have a far better chance than anyone else. Why not with Liam at the helm? After all, he was the only human she was aware of who had experience killing a Morphate. Besides, if she had surrounded herself with loyal Morphates, it would have made for just another clan in a war full of bickering clans. No. When she had her victory, it would be with humans by her side. They deserved to fight for their liberties as they traditionally always had. Except this time, they wouldn’t quite understand what they were fighting for, or even necessarily that they were part of an intense war.

  The playing fields were about to be drastically altered.

  Devon had been working in secret for decades, hiding from her enemies as she had strived to make her plans come together. She needed to fulfill her obligation to the mortal military, bringing her people down a peg by placing in human hands the means to level the field. It was a slippery slope. What would then keep the humans from mounting an all-out war against Morphates and using their new weapons to eradicate the interlopers entirely? But she could ask the same of Morphates who had guns. Good or bad, she had committed to her course and she would stick to the outcome. She refused to allow herself to consider what would happen should she fail. Things were already rising to a head between the feuding clans, as well as the racist Morphate and human factions. She knew she was racing against time.

  The idea of losing the race woke her up at night screaming in terror and soaking in sweat.

  She laughed nervously under her breath at herself, shaking her head and shoulders as if shedding water; only she was trying to shed her sensations of gloom and doom. It did no one any good to get fatalistic. She simply needed to concentrate on one stage at a time. It was the best she could do. Right now that meant concentrating on helping Nash and his people settle in, discussing routines, and sharing other details she thought pertinent. Devon didn’t doubt that Nash would be inundating her with recommendations as well. She found herself looking forward to spending time with him. Perhaps over the next six months she would get to know him a little better.

  In fact, she wanted to get to know everyone a little better. Including Mr. Carter Spencer. She had trusted him all of this time. Could he be a traitor? Had he actually allowed that murderer into her bedroom at the hotel, telling her enemy how, when, and where to find her? The mercury-filled bullet had gone completely through her leg, minimizing the damage, but leaving enough traces of the deadly metal behind to make healing excruciatingly slow even for one of her rapidly healing species. Her people could even heal themselves after decapitation if the body and head were reunited, no matter how long afterward. They did not decompose, their flesh immune to earthly bacteria and unappealing to flora and fauna that usually tried to break remains down. So long as the parts were joined and blood flow reestablished, there was nothing short of radical bombs that could do what one little dose of irradiated mercury could do.

  She had been damn lucky that night. When she had disarmed her opponent and held his neck beneath her foot, he had gloated that she was as good as dead anyway because there was a ten-million-dollar price on her head. She had shot him repeatedly with his own weapon until her foot passed through nothing but vapor. And here it was a week later and she still hurt when she sat and limped when she walked if she wasn’t paying close attention.

  Infuriating.

  When she got hold of whoever was behind the attacks … their days would be numbered. Alpha Council was going to pull them in quite sharply. And Liam Nash was going to help her do that.

  There was a scuffing sound to her right and she looked up to see the devil himself looming in the doorway. He had struck a casual arm up against the doorframe, making all the muscles and lean lines up and down his left side flex in orchestrated male beauty. It took her breath away. Maybe that was why she had to inhale so slow and deep. It shouldn’t have anything to do with her trying to get her fill of his incredible scent. Soap, sweat, and the bold aroma of the outdoors, all combined with that unique factor that was only Liam; that unique factor that made him so irrepressibly male. It swirled in her senses and set her nerves tingling at their ends. She couldn’t help but smile.

  Liam watched as she turned from her study of the monitors and speared him with those lichen green eyes, their polished surface gleaming with quick, intense thought as she recognized his presence. There was something almost predatory in her expression for the smallest second, but just as his chest tightened with an excited anxiety, she let a smile grow slowly over her pale pink lips. She straightened from her observations and turned to face him fully. Liam couldn’t resist running his eyes down the length of her. Not just because she was so fantastically designed, but also because it was an ingrained habit to observe everything he could about everyone, making life for him and those for whom he was responsible safer.

  Devon Candler had a way of wearing clothes as though she were born in them. Last tim
e it had been loose, transparent white gauze, this time it was elegant, calf-length black silk with no sleeves and a modest dip of her neckline to just about an inch below the start of her stunning cleavage. The silk was so soft it clung to every single curve from neck to calf, and it was spun with a shine so it gleamed and glittered over every deep swell, drawing attention to every movement. She was wearing stilettos and no stockings. The heels tightened her calves, raised the thrust of her backside and forced her shoulders back so her breasts were gorgeously prominent.

  Liam felt as though he had just walked into a wet dream. His blood boiled fast and hot and he began to grow hard just from the sight of her. He gritted his teeth together, furious with his inability to keep his body under his own control when she was around. He never behaved this way around women! Even if he was attracted to them, he didn’t get an instant hard-on just by the look of them. Christ, that hadn’t happened to him since high school and here she’d already done it to him twice. More, if he counted just thinking about her over the past couple of days.

  “Are you going out?” he asked roughly, forcing himself back on task as he registered the formality of her attire, as opposed to the way it clung to her semi-erect nipples.

  “Yes. I have a business dinner date,” she informed him, lowering her eyes. Lowering. And lowering. Then they climbed back up, slowly but surely, after giving him a very thorough once-over that singed just about every hair on his body. Did the woman have any idea how much raw sexuality she exuded? Was she purposely playing some kind of game? Looking for a fantasy with a bodyguard like in some cheap Hollywood film? If so, he’d be setting her straight damn quick. She was hot, but she wasn’t hot enough to burn away his integrity or his moral sense of self.

  “You shouldn’t leave the house until we’ve finished with our initial insertion, worked out a schedule, and begun to comprehend how you maneuver throughout the day. I thought I made that clear when we signed the contract.”