by Jaime Rush
She climbed on behind him, leaning against his warm back. Who was the real Rand? The one he pretended to be or the one he wanted to be?
CHAPTER 9
D
ARK MATTER had started rather simply: find Offspring and offer them contracts to be government consultants while he tested their abilities and a bonus if they’d live on-site for the duration. He’d managed to procure a couple of CIA agents who were considered trigger-happy and, therefore, dangerous to put in public situations. He’d had to hire security people with his own money. Gerard had had some success…until the Rogues became a problem. Dammit, they were sucking his resources and his patience dry. He’d lost several of his men through death or injury. Instead of having his Offspring move ahead on tactical missions, they had to find the Rogues. One of his recruited Offspring had zeroed in on Randall Brandenburg earlier. Just a glimpse, but he’d pinpointed his location in Baltimore, and Steele was on his way there to be ready if his subject got more information.
As much as he wanted to blame Steele for letting Zoe Stoker get away, he knew that wasn’t fair. These kids were wily, and they had skills Steele didn’t. But he would get them. It was only a matter of time.
His phone rang. It was his assistant. “Yes?”
“The program just got a hit. At hospice, where Zoe Stoker’s grandfather is.”
Some casinos were equipped with facial recognition technology that matched gamblers to a database of faces containing known felons or terrorists. He had plugged Brandenburg’s face into their database. That was how he had found Brandenburg in Atlantic City, just before the casino’s thugs pummeled him to pulp. Now Gerard had that technology. He was pulling out all the stops, saving his subjects’ resources for the important tasks.
He rubbed his lower lip. Stoker and Brandenburg together. That meant she’d hooked up with the Rogues. They kept growing their numbers while his dwindled. His fingers curled. Oh, yeah, he wanted Brandenburg. That would show the Rogues. They’d gone to all that trouble to break him out, and now Gerard was about to nail him. Getting Zoe would be sweet, too, for giving him such a hassle. Mostly he wanted Eric Aruda and Lucas Vanderwyck. And he wanted the mysterious Offspring who’d rescued Stoker.
“Thanks.” He hung up and called Steele. “I’ve got an address. It’s a two-for-one.”
When Amy saw Petra’s relief that she and Lucas had returned to the tomb, she tried to make light of it. “Back safe and sound, no assassins or nothing.”
Orn’ry was sitting on her shoulder, and Lucas carried the stand and cage.
Petra was standing on the back edge of the couch, holding the bottom edge of a large painting as she tried to hook it onto the hanger. Uh-oh, she was rearranging the décor again. “Just like the good old days, leaving on an errand and coming back unscathed. Except that we’re living in a bomb shelter and can’t go out and shop, and, oh, people want us dead.”
The strain in Petra’s clipped words was clear. Amy was sure that seeing her and Lucas together wasn’t helping. Petra had accepted that the boy who had grown up as part of her family, but for whom she had harbored romantic feelings, wasn’t going to be more than a brother. Still, it probably stung.
Orn’ry hunched in on himself as he took in his surroundings. He made a long, humming sound, then nipped her on the nose.
Amy tapped his beak. “Stop that. I know you’re pissed at me for leaving you, but you’re just going to have to get over it.”
Eric burst out of the hallway, his expression hard and tight. “I went to the asylum.”
“What?” Lucas said.
Orn’ry squawked at the sudden movement, flapping his wings and sending bird-scented air across her face.
He took in the parrot but didn’t comment. “Remotely. I wanted to see what was going on. I checked out the rooms, Darkwell’s office, everything.”
“I thought they had a shield over it.”
“They don’t need a shield. They’re gone.”
“Damn.” Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, a pained expression on his face. “They probably hauled ass because we knew where they were.”
“They’re good at finding us,” Amy said. “Can’t we find them?”
Eric’s face reddened. “I don’t know how to remote-view without knowing their location. But I’ll work on it.”
Amy took a deep breath. She was comfortable seeing glows, but communicating with the dead…not so much. “I’m going to try to contact Cyrus. After not sleeping much last night, I’m tired enough to crash. I’ll see if Cyrus knows where Robbins lives. And if he has any ideas where Darkwell might have moved his operation. I want to find out more about the scientist who created the Booster, too. If we find him, we can find out what’s in it.”
“Do you want me to sit with you again?” Petra asked.
Last time Amy tried to contact Cyrus, Petra had kept her company.
Lucas put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll take care of her.”
Petra’s expression dimmed. “Good luck.”
Amy doubted that Lucas had any inkling how Petra felt about him. Amy sure as heck wasn’t going to tell him. She grabbed up the stand and set it in the corner of the bedroom.
Lucas looked ambivalent. “Damned bird’s tried to bite me a dozen times.”
Amy gave him her sweetest smile. “He’ll come to love you just as I do.”
He made a grunting sound that she took as I’m sure he will because, hey, she was optimistic these days. She nudged Orn’ry into the cage and put his orange blanket over it. “That should quiet him for a bit.”
She stretched out on the bed, and Lucas sat beside her. “You look good there.”
She recognized the hunger in his eyes, felt warmth spread between her legs. She reached up and ruffled her fingers through his thick, dark waves. “We could—”
“Do this first. I don’t want your mind on anything but me and how your body feels as I’m ravaging it with my tongue.”
A growl erupted in her throat, mirroring the one deep in her soul. “Deal.”
“How does this work?”
“It happens when I go into the hypnagogic state of sleep. Most people have minidreams at that stage. I hear voices, snatches of conversations, words. I don’t mind that so much, but sometimes I’ll hear my name. When I realized the voices were trying to talk to me, that creeped me out. Cyrus said I’m a channel. That’s how he gets through. Unfortunately, that’s how others can get through, too. Last night, Gladstone came in. With Zoe showing up, I haven’t had a chance to tell you.”
Gladstone was the agent assigned to evaluate Lucas, Petra, and Eric, and his hatred of the Offspring would have led to their deaths if Eric hadn’t killed him.
He took her hand in his, obviously seeing her fear at that. “What happened?”
“He said, ‘You will all be annihilated. I see your destruction.’ I was able to shake him off, but…”
“But what?”
“With all of this stuff, we just don’t know the boundaries.”
He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “I’ll be watching you. If it looks like anything is happening, I’ll bring you out.” He shook his head. “I hate not having my ability.”
“Try coming to my dreams once I fall into REM sleep. Maybe Cheveyo’s wrong.”
Four months earlier, Lucas had used his dreamweaver ability to seduce her in her dreams. But her optimism only made his eyes darken.
“Lucas, what’s going on in your head?”
“Too much.” He kissed her nose.
“It has something to do with your captivity, what Darkwell did to you, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t want to talk about that. Are you ready?”
She let out a long sigh of frustration and hurt. Why wouldn’t he share his darkness with her? At least now that the storm of images was gone, she didn’t fear that he’d go insane. She knew that was his darkest fear. Once he’d heard about Zoe’s father shooting people, Lucas feared he would go crazy and hurt them. She’d overh
eard him making Eric promise to kill him if he ever showed signs of that kind of instability. The thought of that tightened her throat. Eric wasn’t the best judge of mental stability.
She settled back on the pillow and closed her eyes. Lucas stroked her face with his fingertips, lulling her into sleep.
She fell swiftly, and the whispers came. Random words. Nothing scary.
Cyrus? Are you there?
Amy! Is everything all right?
We’re surviving. We’ve got Zoe now.
Thank goodness. I hated dragging her into this, almost as much as I hated dragging you in. It’s all my fault—
Cyrus, we don’t have time for that. There’s a man named Robbins who works in the program. Do you think he’d tell us what’s going on?
Yes, maybe. He got pulled in like I did—reluctantly. If you can get him outside of Darkwell’s influence, I think he’d help you.
What can you tell us about him? Where he lives, what he drives?
Years ago he lived in Bethesda, Maryland, but I don’t know the address. He drives a black Hummer, the smaller version.
That’ll help. Darkwell has moved his operation. Do you have any idea where he’d go?
He’s got personal resources; the Darkwells are loaded. Maybe a family property.
You said a scientist created the Booster. Where is he now? What’s his name?
He disappeared after the program was dismantled, went into hiding, I suspect. No one’s heard from him since. He’s probably dead by now. Amy, there’s something I need to tell you. It’s about your dad. He had an affair with a woman in the program. You remember I told you about the side effect of the Booster, how it ramped up everyone’s sexual appetite? So it wasn’t strictly his fault. He admitted that he’d gotten her pregnant but wouldn’t tell me who it was.
So that means…I have a half sibling?
Yes. And, Amy, it might be Lucas.
The shock of that nearly catapulted her out of her dream state. She held on. No. That can’t be.
There were two men and two women in the first stage of BLUE EYES. Eric’s mother was one and Lucas’s mother was the other. Both women were pregnant at the time.
What about the second stage?
Darkwell kept them separate. Especially when the side effects became evident.
Cyrus’s voice got fainter. Another voice pushed through, taunting and evil, drawing out her name.
Amy. Wait until you’re here with me. You will be here, you know. All of you freaks will be here, and I’ll be waiting for you!
His anger was so ferocious it pushed her out of sleep. She came to a sitting position, inhaling breath into her tight chest.
Lucas pulled her against him. “What happened? Talk to me.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, all of it bombarding her. “Gladstone broke in again. That’s why I woke up.”
He held her tighter yet. “Are you all right?”
“Lucas…” She pulled away and looked at him. The words tumbled out, thick with emotion. “We might be related.”
“What?”
“Do you know anything about your birth father?”
He shook his head.
“Cyrus told me my father had an affair with someone in the program, got her pregnant. It’s either your mother or Eric and Petra’s.” She couldn’t get her mind around it, that this man she was totally in love with might be her half brother. Her hand went to her mouth. “Maybe that’s why we have this connection.”
He pulled her close again as her eyes filled with tears. “Shhh. We’ll get a DNA test, okay?”
She looked at him. “We can do that?”
“Sure. It’s all by mail, so we’ll send off for a kit. One of my employees at the art gallery found her birth father, but she wanted to be sure. It was simple. We don’t have to tell anyone. We’ll have it mailed to the gallery upstairs. They know to stash all pertinent mail in the back room. We’ll sneak up through the hidden entrance like Petra does when she trades out the artwork. And until we know…” He laid his hand against her cheek. “We’ll play it cool.”
“I don’t want to play it cool. I want you inside me, I want…oh, gawd.”
She fell against him, feeling the weight at knowing the truth lift off her chest. And feeling it return at the thought of keeping her hands off Lucas until the results came.
Rand rubbed his shirtsleeve over his face the moment they got off the bike.
“What are you doing?” Zoe asked.
“I’m getting this makeup off me.” He lifted his helmet. “Look. There’s makeup on the padding.”
She crossed her arms in front of her. “You just thanked me for trying to save you from having to answer some squirmy questions.”
He looked at her, tall and lean, not one curve really, and yet sexy galore in her own way. She wore a black, knit top with lacy holes at the shoulders that went to mid-thigh. “I know, but now I’m going to be my bruised self.”
He unlocked the bags on his bike and felt around inside one of the duffel bags. He pulled out a light, black jacket and slid it on. Then he knelt again and grabbed hard, cold steel. Glancing around to make sure no one was in sight, he tucked it in the back of his waistband.
“What was that?” she asked in a low voice that indicated she had an idea what it was.
“Just in case.”
“I’m beginning to despise those words. Have you ever used it?”
He stood and faced her. “On someone, you mean?”
“Well, that would be good to know.”
“No. I’ve aimed it at a couple of toys pulling beef, though.” At her puzzled look, he realized he’d slipped into street jargon. “Kids causing trouble, wanting to fight. I spent a lot of time on the streets before I went to live with Gram. Not sleeping there, thankfully, ’cause I always had someplace to stay. I hated being home. I crashed with these older dudes, spent the night on the couch or the floor. I scored the gun when I was fifteen, unregistered. Crazy to think it now, but I felt like I could handle it. It’s good to have some power. I’ve practiced enough to hit a static target. A moving target, that I don’t know. I never tried to shoot someone running away.”
“Gee, that’s comforting.”
She turned toward the hospice building, and he saw her take a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Back?” He hooked his helmet to the bike. “I’m going with you.”
“You are?” A mix of surprise and relief colored her expression. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not a fun place.”
“I’m not doing it for kicks. When we go out, we stick together. Just in case.”
Wait a minute. Was that a protective feeling washing through him, giving him no choice but to accompany her into that building of death?
She-it, it was.
She gave him a soft smile and turned toward the building. He followed, enjoying the sway of her hips and the little slice of skin that showed between the slits cut into the back of her dress. He could see bits of her tattoo, and he had a stomach-twisting vision of her lying naked on the bed while he explored every line of that she-devil and every inch of those pale long legs.
Seeing her naked had been a kick-ass way to start the day, but it was buggin’ on him now, taunting him. It wasn’t helping that she’d been wrapped around him on the bike, her breasts pressed against his back, pelvis snugged up against his lower back.
Now this protective feeling, which had nothing to do with being horny, was even more buggin’. At least being horny was a normal state of mind; feeling protective—no way.
And he felt vaguely degenerate walking around with an erection in a building where people were dying.
Yep, he was going to hell.
He expected the place to smell like a hospital, but mostly he picked up on the scent of cooking food. Scattered along the hallways and near the front door were people in wheelchairs. Each room bore the name of the person inside, and in many there were family members visiting. The colors on the
walls were clearly meant to be calming: beiges and pastels. When they walked into the section where her grandfather was, the plump woman with pink cheeks smiled. “Hey, sweetie.” Her smile softened to one of sympathy. “It’s not a good day. He’s pretty gone on morphine right now.”
He actually ached at the sight of Zoe’s pain. She obviously visited her granddad often if the nurse called her that endearment.
“I just want to see him for a few minutes.” Zoe leaned against the counter. “There hasn’t been anyone come to see him other than the usuals, has there?”
“Nope.”
“What happens if someone does come in who’s not family?”
“They can’t see him. Visitors have to be on the list.”
“Even if it was someone, say, from the government?”
Though the woman’s curiosity was piqued, she only said, “I would tell anyone that he’s not up for visitors. Most of the time that’s true anyway.”
Zoe’s body relaxed. “Thanks.” When the woman looked up at Rand, Zoe waved her hand dismissively. “He was in an accident.”
She pulled him away from the desk. The woman seemed just as curious about him as she was about Zoe’s questions.
She slowed down as she reached the room on the end. Her hand slid out of his, and she took a deep breath.
“I’ll stay here,” he said.
She chewed her plump bottom lip and, with a nod, walked into the room. Rand found a wall and leaned against it. From there, he could see Zoe walk up to an emaciated man on the bed. He couldn’t hear what she was saying; her voice was softer than he’d ever heard it. She, in fact, looked softer than he’d ever seen her, especially with her curls and doe eyes. Vulnerable. He shifted his gaze away, but invariably it slid right back.
He couldn’t tell whether her granddad was awake or not, but she stroked his hand around the IV and tubing and continued to talk to him. Seeing her raw pain gave him an ache worse than the one he’d had when he’d been challenged to a hot-salsa-eating contest—and won. This was why he kept his distance. Now he wanted to go and fix her pain, and dammit, he couldn’t take away her granddad’s cancer or her pain.
