Virtually Hers: Virtually, Book 2

by Gennita Low

  “She’s almost there.”

  Helen grinned when Jed looked up at her. She gave him the thumbs-up signal and mouthed “good save”. He gave her one of those looks that revealed nothing and, needing a reaction, she mirrored an exaggerated version back to him. He didn’t even crack a smile. He ought to have that stone face of his patented.

  She wondered about this Amber woman who had saved their operative. It was a brave thing to do, running off to battle a drug warlord at his own compound and successfully extract an injured SEAL. She would have loved to be there, in the thick of things, helping her out.

  “How long before you can get back to me about what Dilaver and this new person, Greta, are planning?” Hawk asked.

  “Give us a couple of hours. Probably this evening, before you leave the area.”

  “Good. Okay, Jed, everything’s secured at our end. We’re ready to transmit.”

  “Hang on.” Jed sent Heath an enquiring look. Heath held up one finger as he double-checked the firewalls, then he nodded. “Ready to link up here. There we go.”

  Helen looked at her back-up link. It was split-screen, one side showing the signal coming in and the other a smaller view of Jed’s connection. While Heath’s task was to make sure the link remained secured, hers was to monitor for outside interference. She winced at the sight of the man on the other side. His face looked as if he’d gone through the meat grinder. One of his eyes and his lips were horribly swollen. He had told Jed earlier that his physical functionality was at seventy percent. If his body looked like his face—no freaking way. Unless, of course, it’s a SEAL. Those dudes were tough sons-of-bitches. One of her trainers was a former SEAL and he’d been an inspiration when it came to mental strength.

  Hawk squinted back at her—actually, at Jed—since he couldn’t see her. “Did we interrupt something important?”

  Hell grinned again. Jed wasn’t in his usual casual jeans. In fact, he looked quite dashing and resplendent in formal suit, white shirt, and a tie. With his hair combed back and his face all nicely groomed, he looked like a diplomat, especially with the official-looking sash and ribbons that denoted his being part of some entourage. Dressed formally, he somehow looked more dangerous than ever, making the animalistic sensuality that was so much a part of him even more pronounced.

  “I always dress up for dinner,” Jed replied with a straight face. “You don’t look so good, Hawk. Hello, Ambrosia, long time.”

  “Jed, it has been a while. How have you been?”

  Helen blinked. Wow. Was that the woman who rescued Hawk McMillan? She looked like she’d never left a beauty salon. Her voice was low, very sexy, and she spoke Jed’s name like she knew him very well. Helen frowned.

  “Good. Can you handle this route?”

  “It shouldn’t be a problem. I’m transmitting the map I’ve prepared. Hawk’s coordinates match a few areas. Time being the key thing here, which of these routes should we head for?”

  “We’re printing it right now. Hang on.”

  Jed turned to Helen. She gave a thumbs-up to show that she was receiving the transmit, then clicked on the command key to print. Jed walked from where he was to get the map from her. She thought she saw a ghost of a smile on his lips when she handed it to him, but she wasn’t sure because he had turned his attention to the printout almost immediately, returning to his laptop.

  “First, I agree that you should abandon the initial plan to destroy every cache of weapons shown here. The most important thing is to get to the target weapon. Once you have it, you can contact me again and I’ll send someone to pick it up. Second, we’ve compared your coordinates with the aid and relief drop-offs by manned and unmanned U.S. aerial vehicles the last six months. Although your physical description of the woman doesn’t fit, we have reason to believe that Greta is the same handler that had worked as a secretary to Deputy Director Philip Gorman’s task force in the CIA for the past ten years, so we have a paper trail. We’re transmitting a file photo. We’ve computed that the target weapon is in the cache between Elbasan and Tirana at ninety percent.

  “The third factor is still an unknown. We’re concentrating on all political activities in that part of the world in the next seven to ten days and putting out a code red alert. From what little Dilaver hinted to Ambrosia, the target weapon is to be used after a decoy has been activated. There’s an international summit going on in Skopje right now and the main meeting with certain world leaders present in two days. That, however, will be off the seven-day deadline, so we’re assuming that either the event or threat is a decoy and there’s another target. Keep your cell or your watch close by, Hawk. Someone will contact you. Check for messages whenever you can.”

  Helen scribbled in her notes. She needed to remember every piece of information when it came to arguing with Jed McNeil.

  “Will do,” Hawk said.

  “Still the same prepared guy, aren’t you, Jed?” Amber asked.

  That confirmed it right there that Amber and Jed were more than acquaintances. Helen sniffed. She didn’t want to think about that right now.

  “Still trolling for information, Ambrosia?”

  “I can’t help but notice that little pin on your collar, that’s all. You’re at this summit already, aren’t you?”

  “Wait a minute. You’re here in Macedonia, Jed?”

  Jed’s expression remained blank. “It’s just a pin. We’ll talk soon. Any messages for Admiral Madison, Hawk?”

  “Please let him know that I’m standing by and ready for the team.”

  Jed nodded. “Talk to you soon. Amber, consider your veza settled.”

  A favor. So, there was the history between them. But she still didn’t like the smile the beautiful Amber was now giving Jed.

  “No more free rides for you, Jed McNeil,” Amber told him.

  “Don’t be too sure, Ambrosia,” Jed said, then cut off transmission. He put down the remote and walked to Helen’s small table. “How’s the headache?”

  He had been asking that several times a day now. “It hasn’t gone away.”

  She could start another argument with him but it took too much effort. Besides, it was hard to argue when a headache was interfering with one’s thoughts, so she’d taken to jotting down notes so she wouldn’t forget to bring up relevant points when they did argue. She knew that this had become a source of private amusement for the watching Heath. It was a war of wills—hers versus Jed’s—and those in the know around them were watching with interest.

  “You’re still upset with me.”

  Helen looked down at the keyboard. “You would use the serum,” she said, in a low voice.

  “Not as a painkiller.”

  Okay, he was in the mood for another argument. “You’re thinking of Armando,” she said. “I’ll have you know, I’m supposed to be taking SYMBIOS 2 anyway so I can perform.”

  She emphasized the last few words to make her point. She didn’t need to bring up the fact that the last two days, she hadn’t been able to work efficiently, especially in her own assignments. Jed or Heath had covered for her whenever her headache started to worsen.

  “The serum was meant to mitigate your RV downtime, Elena.”

  “So I could do my job. Hello?” Helen waved her notes. “Do you think I can look for decoys with me being all crossed-eye double-checking my notes? Lying down hasn’t made it go away, Jed. You and I know this isn’t a normal headache and we don’t have much time left as the summit highlight event is coming up.”

  He had to know she was right. They had been looking through the package he’d gotten at Lake Matka, trying to decipher certain notes. She read her notes again, looking for more fodder to back her argument.

  She cracked her stiff neck tentatively, trying to ignore the tightening band that signaled worsening pain. Hoping to distract him, she put on her best Jed imitation. “First, this is no longer a two-day summit operation. We know that something’s about to happen, but now it could be just a decoy. Second, according to H
awk McMillan, that explosive trigger meant that there’s another target in seven days. We have to look at the schedule of events. You know there’s a good chance of me going into remote-viewing mode to try to find our target because Skopje is a busy area right now. Fourth—”

  Jed silenced her by laying a finger on her lips. His silver eyes glittered with suppressed emotion. She couldn’t tell whether it was anger or something else.

  “Heath,” he said in that quiet way that made everyone pay attention, “check the schedules for the next seven days. Your headache’s worsening, Hell. Go get some rest.”

  Without another word, he turned and walked away. Helen scowled till he left the room. She snapped her laptop shut in disgust.

  “I’ve never seen him so…agitated,” Heath murmured. “Is it possible that you’re actually troubling our Number Nine’s usually iron rule to finish a job?”

  “That cold and uncaring man wouldn’t know agitation if it smashed into the side of his oversized head,” Helen declared. “He’s just being obstinate.”

  “Look at it from his perspective, Hell. The only other person who used the serum for ‘headaches’ is our Armando. That isn’t a vote of confidence about the serum’s stability, is it?”

  Helen thought about it for a few seconds. Okay, so the guy cared, even if he showed it in the most chauvinistic manner possible. No. That was all he said, each time. Like his saying “no” was everything that mattered.

  “Inflexible,” she muttered. “Implacable. Moronic. Mutton-headed.” She looked up to find Heath studying her strangely. “What?”

  “Those were the words he read out loud this morning while thumbing through that dictionary of his.”

  Helen frowned. She rubbed the sides of her head. “What are you talking about?”

  Heath smiled. “Get Dr. Kirkland to talk to him again, Hell. Or, just get the serum into you without Number Nine’s permission.” His dark eyes taunted her as he reached inside his pocket and took out a small vial. He set it on the table. “He’s at a meeting. How’s he to know if you have the serum in you before you see him tonight?”

  Helen picked up the vial and studied it for a while after Heath left the room. She wasn’t at all surprised that he happened to have it on him. Nothing the commandos did surprised her much. She pocketed the vial.

  ***

  “Change of plans, Stevens. It seems our Greta isn’t going to get to the trigger in time. So the order’s changed. We’re heading to Skopje.”

  Jonah didn’t look away from the Macedonian TV show he had on. He liked this kind of living very much—nice hotel room, entertainment, and the dish he was eating, something called gyuvech, some kind of tasty chicken stew. He’d have loved to have some of that wine on the menu too, but his monitor didn’t allow that, of course. He really didn’t want to leave Velesta. Those kafenas…he had soaked in all that energy available there. Full. His stomach and his little cache of treasure. He listened attentively while he flipped to yet another channel.

  “What? Greta failed? Five-One here saw her talking with Dilaver.”

  “They hadn’t left for the drop-offs in time. I bet COMCEN has something to do with it. The instructions said that Plan B has been activated and we’re to go to Skopje and wait for the Noretski girl.”

  “Llallana Noretski? Isn’t she supposed to be our very own Project Gem baby?”

  “Which just tells you that I was right about all this mind control and remote-viewing bullshit, doesn’t it? We’re supposed to be in control, but look at what happened. We’re being ordered to go here and there, and with nothing to show at the end.”

  His monitor threw his magazine down on the table. “We’re always one step behind, that’s all. The other side has a remote viewer too and they’re getting their hands on the targets first.”

  “Well, we keep letting them beat us. We had the list before they could even sort out Gorman’s damage. We had knowledge of where each shipment went while they were busy going through red tape. We even had a head start with our testing of the serum on the remote viewers, and yet their operative managed to get to the target in Frankfurt. If we don’t get to the trigger before they do, we’re going to be replaced.”

  Jonah reached for the soup. Chorba. He liked to remember the food items in foreign countries because food was the most important thing after sex. This was a country he would like to visit again. Beautiful young girls. Good food. If he ever escaped these assholes, he definitely would return. But how could he escape when they had what he wanted most?

  He was beginning to put the pieces of the puzzle together by just listening to his CIA handlers whenever they had their little arguments. Greta was the double agent in charge at the CIA division in Washington, D.C., before that big recent scandal, when everything went south. He had kept up with it while he was slaving away in his CIA cubicle, feeling envious that his security clearance wasn’t that high. And yet here he was, part of a clandestine team, trying to get hold of some important weapon from a double agent. From what he’d read, this Greta, foreign agent that she was, must be a hell of a spy, having managed to work inside the CIA for ten years.

  He realized now that he must help these bastards retrieve the device or he was going to lose them. Obviously, there was someone higher than them pulling the strings and if his handlers were taken away, so would his serum. No, he couldn’t have that. He didn’t want to go back to living in that place, feeling empty, missing the rush of power from the serum. He shivered in anticipation of slipping into the energy of more of those little whores. They must have at least a dozen men a night, the way their energy pulsated and called to him. And in that one kafena, with so many of them, he almost felt like he OD’ed, the sexual charge was so powerful. His cock had turned so hard he hurt. And then, he had found out something new.

  Jonah smiled. Since they had live sex acts in the kafena themselves, he discovered that it wasn’t just memories he could record. The sexual charge given out by those people while they were doing it was stronger; to his delight, when he entered into their glow, it wasn’t just his feelings that he experienced but theirs too. Every lustful thrust, every dirty fantasy of those men; and every time they came, it was like feeling two orgasms. He recorded them all. He loved every minute those girls felt powerless against him, or rather, the man with them—who the fuck cared—their fear, their drugged states, their having to please, all that made him feel like the most potent male in the world. He took all he wanted while he had spied on Greta for his handlers.

  No, he wasn’t going to let that other remote viewer win this time. He must find a way to kill her if he saw her in Skopje. He hoped they would send him near a kafena in Skopje. Now that he knew that it felt so much better recording live, he was greedy for more.

  ***

  Helen looked up at the sound of her suite’s main door unlocking. She glanced at the clock to verify the lateness of the hour. She heard the low murmur of male voices, the flick of some lights going off, and the sound of people heading off to their respective rooms. She held her breath. Would he come in?

  A few seconds later, Jed slipped into her room without knocking. He closed it quietly behind him. His jacket and tie were off. A few buttons of the shirt undone. Her hands curled a little tighter around the magazine she’d been aimlessly flipping. No man should have the right to look so damn tempting and sexy to any woman who had a headache that refused to go away. There was just no denying her acute awareness of him.

  He came and sat on one side of her bed. He had a way of making silences linger. She turned her face up as his hands explored gently. His fingers soothed the back of her head; his thumbs worked circles over her brows.

  “Have I told you you’re good with your hands?”

  “A few times,” he murmured. With infinite care, he feathered kisses along the side of her face, tracing the soft line of her jaw, and then moving deliciously down the sensitive area of her neck.

  “This can’t go on, you know,” she said. “You can’t keep
babying me. I had to leave early tonight when my headache became worse.”

  “Yes,” he said against her skin.

  “Yes, what?” She wanted him to kiss her lips.

  “Yes, if the serum is going to take away that headache, I’ll get you some.”

  Helen pushed against him so she could look into his eyes. His silver eyes seemed to gleam with an inner fire in the soft lighting. Despite the soft caress of his hands, he looked hard and unyielding. She could tell that he’d been spending time debating his decision with himself.

  “I know you’re worried,” she told him, “and yeah, so am I, but I need this headache gone so I can perform.”

  “I know.”

  “So what finally made you change your mind?”

  He sat up, one hand absently unbuttoning his loose shirt. “I talked to Dr. Kirkland about Armando. After he’d admitted to taking the serum without permission, Armando answered some questions during tests. The serum did help to block the migraines, but they have side effects.” He shrugged out of the shirt. “He claimed to hear voices sometimes. Dr. Kirkland is wondering whether our newest commando isn’t just bipolar and needs other medication. But the main thing remains that he had used the serum on the side enough times. He was able to finish his assignments, in spite of his hearing and seeing things.”

  Helen tried hard not to be distracted as he continued to take off his clothes. He was beautiful to look at and she really would prefer to do other things than talk. She pushed the featherbed lower. It was getting warmer under the comfortable downy material.

  “Did Dr. K. consult the scientists who gave me those lectures about the serum?”

  “You really want to hear scientists getting ecstatic about quantum entanglement and Bell’s theorem?”

  “Say what?”

  Jed’s lips quirked. “Let’s just say that half an hour of listening about the existence of the physical world according to quantum theory and how you and I are two particles bouncing airwaves at each other didn’t explain a thing about why the serum causes headaches. I can give you the boring science or just simply make the excuse that our Number Six is bipolar.”