Virtually Hers: Virtually, Book 2

by Gennita Low

  He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head up. “Everything’s going to be all right. We’ll fix this.” He frowned. Her eyes were dilated. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m not sure,” she breathed. She touched her forehead tentatively. “Tension.”

  “Tension? As in headache?”

  She nodded, then shook her head, as if she couldn’t decide. She jerked her head out of his hold, sweeping her surroundings. Her body language was tense. Jed looked around too. Nothing.

  Channel three. Zoom in.

  That was her! He was sure of it. Tall. Long brown hair. Pretty eyes. She was quite an attractive woman, which was surprising. He’d thought she’d look like some big biker chick, considering that she could climb ropes and wrestle with those fucking special ops trainers. Those assholes were mean fighters.

  So his image of her was totally one-eighty. She looked a lot softer from this distance. He gazed at her body appreciatively. And nice curves. He ignored the man by her side as he reached out with his senses. No thoughts of Macedonia. No plans. He took one step closer to her, mentally opening all his channels, and almost moaned out loud.

  Holy shit. His dick instantly went hard, stopping him in his tracks. Holy. Shit. She was emanating sexual energy like he’d never felt before. That was her, all right, with his cache and what was more, she had been sexing it up with that man beside her. Even from here, he could feel the combined sexual energy between them, waiting, waiting for him to taste, to bathe in.

  Erotic need blanketed his mind as he probed the energy field. This was a first for him, to actually feel so much from this far away. Usually, he just “saw” the energy and had learned to recognize certain types as sexual afterglow.

  His own need rose hungrily, eagerly. She had had plenty of sex recently. Her energy was heavy with desire, as if she was still in a sexual state. Those two must have just had it in this hallway and he’d missed it, dammit. He would have loved to have been there, watching them. No matter, soon he would get her memories and watch those moments for himself.

  A mental picture of her on her knees slammed into his senses. He felt his erection stretched so painfully, he couldn’t think at all. This was going to be so good.

  He had to have it all. Had to take what was his back and more. Her energy was delicious, so strong that he just wanted to stand there and jack off.

  “Agent Five-One? Details.”

  He cursed silently, trying to concentrate. “Yeah, hang on. I see the target. I have to get closer, though, to sense.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Like he fucking needed permission. He took another step closer, uncaring, releasing all his channels. Record. Record it all. There was white noise interrupting him. He turned and looked to his right. Some guy in black walking quickly toward him. If he turned the corner, he would see the couple. He didn’t sense anything unusual about him. No thoughts of Macedonia…something urgent, though. What the fuck was this white noise? He couldn’t filter the thoughts from the noise.

  No time. His woman was walking down the hallway toward him, a frown on her face. Could she feel his presence? Of course not. No, no, she was listening to the other man’s footsteps and telling her companion that someone was coming.

  He mentally shrugged. Who cared what they were up to? He was going to drop in on her aura and wrap her energy around him and happily feed. She owed him.

  “I’m almost there,” he told his monitor, trying to curb the excitement in his voice. “Wait while I search for information.”

  “Affirmative, Five-One.”

  He smiled. Hello, supersoldier-spy. So what sexy thing have you been up to with your boyfriend lately? I want it all, bitch.

  He started toward her. Record. Full speed.

  “What’s wrong?” Jed asked again. Something was bothering her and it wasn’t just her sensitized state.

  “Danger,” she whispered. She gripped his upper arm. “Can’t explain it. I just sense this feeling.”

  “Now?” Jed asked, looking around again.

  “Suddenly. I get this warning…it’s…”

  She raked her hair restlessly. She started walking, heading toward where the corridor split to the left and right. Jed reached out, wanting to tell her to stay back behind him. She put up her hand to signal stop, her head cocked, listening.

  Footsteps approached. He was about to step in front of Helen when Armando appeared in their left corridor, with his boots clicking noisily. He was in a hurry, as if he was late for something. His eyes widened at the sight of them.

  “Timing is very important in an illusion,” he said, his strides gathering speed as he broke into a run toward them.

  Before Jed could say anything to stop him, Armando crashed into Helen, bringing her down. As one part of his mind registered that Helen didn’t attempt to avoid Armando at all, falling onto the carpeted floor without a fight or a gasp, another part, trained from years of instinctive reaction, instantly pushed his own body forward into a defensive stance, to face whatever it was that prompted one of his team to rush them like that.

  A few seconds went by. Not a sound. Nothing came from around either corner. From behind him, he sensed Armando and Helen moving on the floor, getting up.

  “What were you running from, Armando?” Jed asked, still looking at the empty corridor ahead.

  What the fuck? That man in black was running. The stupid Asian was going to run through him while he had all his channels on record! All that white noise! Oh fuck!

  No time! He couldn’t command and pull back all the channels at once. He mentally pushed his shadow self down the corridor, going for the woman, focusing only on her. No way any man could go faster than a bilocated remote viewer. Only ten feet or so separated him from his beloved treasure.

  He sped forward and yelled in agony as his whole being smacked into some kind of invisible wall in front of the couple. He felt his insides crumple into dark swirls, as if he had a lit candle there and it was rapidly melting, coating everything in hot wax. It was horrible. His heartbeat churned and echoed. His eyeballs burned. Melted. He couldn’t move quickly. Fear engulfed him. What was happening?

  He screamed. It felt like he’d been sliced in half. The running man, who had been way behind him, caught up, and ran right through his shadow self at top speed. His remaining open channels…recording… This wasn’t possible. A remote viewer could pass through anything…

  “What the hell? Five-One, what’s happening? Why are you screaming?”

  He couldn’t answer his monitor. The serum, the acceleration of which he’d been so addicted to, was pulling in everything from the man who’d just passed through him. Pain. The agony dropped him to his knees. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t get up. The gooey mass that had stopped him before had now penetrated into his “body”, blocking sight, blocking air. He fought for breath. Gasped for help.

  “Five-One! Five-One! Calm down! Listen to my voice. Disengage. Change channel, disengage and return here. Do you hear me?”

  Disengage. Change channel. Yes, yes, yes, disengage! His monitor’s use of his trigger released the mass that was holding him captive.

  “Disengage,” he whimpered, pushing with his hands, trying to crawl backwards from all that white noise, that invading thickness in his head. “Change channels.” Change all the fucking channels.

  He opened his eyes. He was curled into a ball. He screamed when someone touched him.

  “What’s wrong, Five-One? What happened there?” his monitor’s voice asked in the distance.

  “He’s fucking losing it,” another voice said.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t explain to these morons about recording energies, that he was after their precious super spy’s sexual aura. He couldn’t explain what had just happened. He didn’t know what had caught hold of him and squeezed the life out of him like that. He had had every available channel open on record and he’d absorbed the running man’s energy as he went through him. Pain and shame. Amplified dozens
of times.

  He curled tighter into a ball. And wept.

  ***

  “She can’t stand up properly,” Armando said.

  After making sure no one was coming around both corners, Jed turned to look behind him. Armando was on his feet, trying to help Helen up. She looked pale.

  Jed checked the corridors again and tapped at the intercom by the wall. “Eight Ball,” he said. “There was no warning of any intruders. Are you sure the micro-eyes haven’t been compromised?”

  “Nothing’s compromised, dude. I saw everything. There were no hostiles involved except for Armando running toward you guys,” the computer reported back. “Checking all entranceways. Every known body one hundred percent accounted for. Nice leap, Bruce Lee-style, dude, with all that killer hair flying around.”

  Jed relaxed just a little. If Eight Ball had seen what happened, then the signals hadn’t been switched. If so, then what was that all about? Just before it happened, Helen had felt something…but she wasn’t herself today. “Make copies of the whole incident for review,” he ordered.

  “Done, dude.”

  He turned back to Armando and Helen. She was leaning on Armando for support.

  “I think I reinjured my leg when I fell,” she explained. “It’s just feeling a bit tender.”

  Jed gave her a quick look-over. Other than her favoring one leg, she seemed okay. He wanted to know more about what preceded Armando charging them, but first things first.

  “Why did you run toward Helen like that, Armando?” he asked quietly. The man had acted as if he knew Helen was in danger. “Were you looking for her?”

  “I was chasing the Cheshire Cat,” Armando said solemnly, “and he led me here.”

  “I don’t have time for puzzles right now, Chang,” Jed warned. He wasn’t chancing anything happening to Helen.

  Armando shrugged. “I’m explaining it the only way that could be understood. I’m always after the Cheshire Cat. I see parts of something and I want to see the rest. This time, the Cat’s tail ran ahead and I felt danger, so I decided to chase him. And there you two were at the end of my tunnel.”

  “But there was no danger,” Jed pointed out. Except Helen had said she felt danger…

  “I felt something was wrong too,” Helen said, echoing his thoughts.

  “That you could see,” Armando chimed in at the same time. He flicked his hair back and shrugged. “I don’t know any other analogy to explain what was happening to me.”

  “So you two sensed danger and somehow crossed paths right here,” Jed said, eyeing both of them speculatively. Was it coincidental that these two, who had used the latest version of the serum, had sensed something that wasn’t there? “Simultaneously? Eight Ball, track back to the earliest shot of Armando in the hallway.”

  “Program initiated,” Eight Ball replied. “Location?”

  “Where were you exactly?” Jed asked.

  Armando shrugged again in answer and hooked a thumb in his black leather belt, bracing his weight so Helen could lean on his arm. “I was having one of my weird blind attacks while I was walking on the floor above this one. I didn’t have far to run. What about you two? Why were you here at this time?”

  “Just done with debriefing,” Jed replied, studying Armando closely. Blind attacks meant the younger man was in pain. “I thought the attacks were getting rarer.”

  Armando ignored his comment, and instead cocked a dark eyebrow at Helen. “Debriefing with Hell? Fascinating.”

  Jed said nothing, waiting for Eight Ball as well as Armando, staring intently at the younger man, looking for clues. Armando was in one of his moods. It was in the bored tone of his voice, the little furrow in his brow, which he knew appeared when the younger man had another migraine attack. When his own schedule was a little lighter, he was going to resume training him, but for now, it was up to Heath. Right at this moment, he just wanted to get to the bottom of what just happened. He watched as Armando took Helen’s hand in his, looking deeply into her eyes.

  “How’s the chosen one’s hypothalamus doing?” Armando continued.

  Most people paused, smiled politely, looked puzzled, or frowned whenever Armando asked one of his offbeat questions. But Helen wasn’t anyone. Jed had had many months of looking into those brown eyes on the screen and knew every nuance in their expression. He had seen that barely discernible calculating look entering those hazel eyes before, many times, while being tested during training. He blinked. She was in GEM mode.

  “It’s functioning,” she said. “How’s yours?”

  “Mine hasn’t been tricked by drugs lately,” Armando mocked. “My neuro-hormones haven’t been overproducing but all this sexy talk might start the process.”

  “I’m beginning to realize that certain drugs have a habit of tricking the user for longer than they think, Armando,” Helen said, the careless casualness in her voice catching Jed’s attention. For two people who had just collided with the floor, these two were acting way too calmly. “Are you so sure there’s nothing wrong with your limbic system?”

  She’d obviously paid attention to all the doctors and scientists at the group debriefings, Jed noted, slightly amused such mundane talk would include the hypothalamus and brain stem. During the ones he’d attended when the first version of the SYMBIOS serum was introduced, he’d sat through hours of lectures about how the drug could, would, and should affect the hypothalamus, the part of the brain in control of body temperature, hunger, thirst, emotions, and—he slid another glance at Helen—sexual activity.

  Nothing new. Except he didn’t like the way those two were standing so closely together, as if they were having a private communication. He pushed away the sudden urge to interrupt. Something else was happening here and he wasn’t going to let his personal feelings come between him and finding the answer.

  Jed looked at Armando again. Helen’s problem had been pinpointed.

  Sort of. But what about Armando? The man admitted to migraines and periods of blindness that lasted up to an hour. None of the scientists and doctors had come up with an explanation. Almost the same drug, but different effect. What else wasn’t he telling them?

  “Location confirmed, yo,” Eight Ball’s surfer lingo added another odd touch to the ongoing conversation. “Agent Chang’s location was exactly right above where you and Hell were standing four feet back from your current location. Using Agent Sullivan’s words, dudes, woo-woo simpatico shit.”

  Armando looked surprised for a moment, then burst out laughing. Helen grinned.

  “Thank you for your diagnosis, Eight Ball,” Jed said wryly. He needed to talk to the COMCEN supercomputer programmer one of these days about Eight Ball’s choice of persona…when he found a slot of free time. “Make two copies of both recordings and send one to my quarters and the other to Dr. Kirkland’s. Send a message to him that we need him at his office now.”

  “Affirmative.”

  “What if he isn’t there?” Helen asked. “Aren’t we supposed to be going to eat with the admiral?”

  “You’re limping,” Jed pointed out, “and I thought we’d all compare our hypothalamuses and limbic systems at Dr. Kirkland’s office. I’ll just have to cancel my meeting with the admiral till later.”

  “But I’m hungry,” Helen said.

  “Brains for food. Yum,” Armando murmured. “I think I should carry her the rest of the way, Jed, what do you think?”

  Jed looked at the younger man. The inscrutable Asian face was firmly on, revealing nothing, but a male challenge was universal. He could say no and therefore show his hand, that Helen was his weakness.

  He looked at Helen. She was still too quiet. Either she was still processing what had happened or she was using NOPAIN to nettle him. It didn’t matter. There were other ways to win a pissing contest.

  His gaze traveled lower on her body and he knew from the slight twitch of her leg that she was affected by it. His gaze slid back up leisurely to meet hers.

  “By all means,” h
e said softly.

  Chapter Nine

  How bizarre, how bizarre. That phrase from some long ago song popped into Helen’s head. That about summed up the last twenty-four hours.

  The familiar tingle that always warned her of imminent danger had disappeared. She trusted that instinct in her; following it had saved her life before. However, this time, nothing had happened. Eight Ball had confirmed that there had been no intruder, nothing out of the ordinary.

  The only strange thing linking it all was the man carrying her, Armando Chang. He’d sensed something was wrong, she was sure of it, and his strange explanation had caught her attention. He’d told them that he was chasing the Cheshire Cat, something she’d just used in her head in reference to Jed McNeil.

  Which brought her thoughts back to the man walking a little ahead of her and Armando. Jed had a headset on, seemingly absorbed in a conversation with Admiral Madison, barely paying attention to the people who stared at them as they passed by their offices and desks.

  That was an act, she realized it now. Jed McNeil was the master of multitasking. He seemed able to hold meetings, reschedule an appointment with an admiral, and make snap decisions about this operation or that operation, all while being interrupted by operatives at the same time. When one or two stopped him to ask questions, he’d pause and give her one of those looks that made her shiver inside. And the man could still seduce without words.

  “But can he chew gum and whistle?” Armando said softly into her ear.

  Helen looked at the man carrying her. “Is mind-reading one of the many COS commando talents?” she asked teasingly.

  “A combination of good timing and lucky guessing,” Armando told her, a small smile on his lips.

  “Oh yeah, we must put all that good timing and lucky guessing to good use and play the lottery some time,” Helen said, watching as Jed walked a little further ahead of them with de Clerq, who had joined them.