He triggered his thermal optical scanning. Outside of Kayla’s warm, amazing body under his shirt, and slight residual heat from a puddle of chemicals on the floor, the lab read as cool. No other thermal signatures that could be detected at least. “He’s gone.”
Kayla retrieved her own handgun and shoulder holster from a hook on the back of the door. She strapped it on over Joel’s shirt. “He’d better fuckin’ hope so.”
He couldn’t help but notice his shirt hugging her luscious form, strapped tight by the holster. And God, that fierce look in her eyes. Could she be any sexier?
He gritted his teeth, trying to stifle the sudden erection that threatened. “Shouldn’t you get dressed first?” It would certainly make it easier for him to concentrate.
She scanned down her scantily clad body. “Oh.”
Maybe she’d forgotten her state of dress, but Joel found it impossible to keep his eyes off her. The sleek lines of her long, toned legs right up to her hips where the hem of his shirt only accentuated the sexiness of the curves.
He shook his head to pull his mind from the erotic visions forming in his brain, stacking those thought processes and conjectures onto his internal processor. Better to rely on his computer at times like these. Cold logic was the only way to keep his thoughts on track.
Skirting the chemical spill in the middle of the floor, she pulled back the overturned cart. Underneath, in the center of the liquid, her drenched clothing lay like the rapture had come. Jeans still buttoned and zipped, shoes still tied, shirt still buttoned up.
Joel’s gaze took in the impossible. “How the heck did that happen?”
“I wish I knew.” Kayla shook her head. “But I’m sure as hell not wearing those again, and I don’t have a change of clothing here.”
There were plenty of clothes in Amber’s room. And they’d probably fit Kayla. Both women were about the same size.
Nausea rolled through Joel’s stomach at the mere thought of reentering that room, but he fought it down. “Come with me.”
~ ~ ~
They’d arrived at Amber’s old apartment door. Tamping down the panic and rage, Kayla found the inner calm, as she’d learned in her therapy sessions, finding her center and taking control of her breathing. This was nowhere near as bad as the assault on Xi Force Headquarters she’d survived just a few weeks ago. Sure, someone had still been shooting at her, but she could handle this.
Maybe.
Vertigo and darkness threatened at the corners of her vision. Nausea tightened her throat.
As Joel raised his security card to the locked door, he hesitated for only a moment, but enough for Kayla to notice. “We don’t have to go in here. I’m sure Heather wouldn’t mind if I borrowed something from her instead.”
That option had to be easier on him.
He sighed and shook his head. “This makes more sense. No one else is going to be wearing anything in here anytime soon. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t have her rooms cleared.”
He swiped the key and opened the door, then led her through the living quarters to Amber’s bedroom.
Yeah, Amber Harris, AKA Susan Mullens, now resided in prison, but this had to be killing Joel anyway. He’d locked these rooms after the investigation and avoided anything to do with the murderous corporate spy who had almost singlehandedly taken down the project. While he’d been a helpless observer inside his own body, Amber took remote control of Joel’s internal computer and turned him into a cold-blooded killing machine. From the reports, she’d also forced him into some bazaar and deviant sexual encounters.
Even though he went to great lengths to cover up the impact of the events, the scars still occasionally shown through the stoic front he’d thrown up.
He winced as he opened the closet doors in the bedroom. “See anything you like?”
Yeah something in here stirred a memory. She didn’t dare ask, but she’d have to choose wisely from this wardrobe. He’d certainly remember Amber wearing some of these pieces.
Amber may have been a psychopathic bitch, but she sure as hell knew how to dress. Designer labels Kayla had never touched, let alone thought of purchasing. Prada, Dolce & Gabbana, Burberry, Fendi.
Kayla pushed the hangers around, looking for something more in line with her jeans and T-shirts style.
Joel edged back toward the doorway. “You going to be okay here alone?”
She’d have to be. Joel couldn’t stay here. Not here in her room.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Meet me downstairs in the Cray control room when you’ve finished. I’m bringing in the team.” He beat a hasty exit.
She instantly missed his presence. Fear, like a coiling snake, fisted her heart. Shadows in every corner became skulking figures. She wasn’t quite ready to be this alone yet. She hurriedly searched the closet for something to wear.
I should pick something that looks new. Something maybe he hadn’t seen Amber in and wouldn’t associate with her.
She found an understated Armani tee still in its packaging, and the Hugo Boss jeans would be nondescript enough to not leave an impression on anyone who didn’t know fashion. Joel didn’t come across as someone who’d attend New York Fashion Week.
Heat rose in Kayla’s cheeks as she rummaged through Amber’s dresser for intimates. Amber made no secret she dressed for sex, but these things barely covered anything. She tried on the most modest of the underwear she found, checking her image in the full-length mirror.
The deep purple push-up bra and matching bikini panties showed off curves and accentuated cleavage in a way that brought heat to her cheeks. The only thing missing was a Fuck Me sign over her head.
Brazen hussy.
Oh hell, admit it. It’s damn sexy.
It wasn’t like anyone was going to see her in it. And the distraction helped quell her fears. She dressed and slid her feet into a comfortable pair of Valentino Rockstud Ballerinas to complete the outfit.
Standing in front of the mirror she assessed herself. Comfort and style.
“You make this look good.”
Then again, with an outfit costing well over a thousand dollars, maybe it was the clothes that made her look good.
~ ~ ~
Before joining Joel downstairs, Kayla found the courage to return to her lab. Stopping in the doorway, she surveyed the carnage and assessed the damage.
Her laptop. Damn it. But all her files were backed up to the cloud. She hadn’t really lost anything there.
The file folders? Her notes on her Mutalon process. Most of that was also backed up or easily retested.
Still, someone messed with her lab. That didn’t sit well.
The spilled chemical cart. That primordial ooze on the floor. What the hell happened to her? How had she gone from fully clothed in the lab, to naked in Joel’s bed? Had a genie plucked her most erotic desire straight from her mind and granted her wish?
Time to tamp those thoughts down. Damnit Jim, I’m a scientist, not a romantic fantasy junkie. Okay, well, she was both, but she did need to concentrate on the science here, and leave the fantasy on her bookshelf.
She carefully pulled her old clothing from the goo with long handled tongs, placing the items in a large glass container. Then she scooped as much of the chemical stew as she could into beakers for later study. Hopefully an analysis would yield some answers.
She sprinkled a neutralizing agent on the remaining chemical puddle that was already eating holes in the floor tiles, then made her way down to the main floor to find Joel.
Normally empty at this hour, the control room buzzed with activity. Kirk Peters occupied the seat in front of the Cray supercomputer terminal. The building’s security video feeds occupied all nine of its display monitors.
“Kayla, good.” Joel motioned her ove
r. Excitement colored the concern in his tone. “You’re going to want to see this.”
Every lab, every hallway, every room in the complex except for the apartments, had security cameras. Kayla thought the one in her lab was just to make sure she was working, but now it made even more sense. With so many high security experiments happening in the labs, Joel needed the recordings in case anything went wrong.
He tapped Kirk on the shoulder. “Run that loop again.”
On the center monitor, a video came up. Her, falling backward. The cart tipping and spilling chemicals on her. The masked man pulling his gun and aiming it at her.
“Okay, freeze right . . . here.” The video stopped. Joel drew a box with his finger on the screen. “Give me a close-up of this area.”
The onscreen horror on her face brought back the terror of that moment. Her eyes were shut tight. The cart, tipped on its side, lay flat over her legs as she scrunched down behind it.
Wait. It was lying flat, all right. Flat on the floor. But with her legs underneath it, that shouldn’t have been possible.
“Move forward one frame.” Joel’s voice reflected his tense concentration.
A cloud appeared in front of the cart top she was hiding behind. Kayla put her hand to her chest. “Is that a bullet impact?”
“I believe so.” Joel squinted. “On a trajectory that would have the bullet passing right through you. That cart top isn’t thick enough to stop a bullet.”
Kirk pointed to the cart. “There’s something really wrong with this picture. It shouldn’t be—”
“One more frame.” Joel’s command cut him off.
As the picture shifted, so did Kayla’s position. Her head sunk toward the floor.
“Again.”
In this frame her chin disappeared . . . beneath the floor level.
“It felt like I was sinking . . . like I was falling through jelly.” She’d been terrified.
Joel took a deep breath, then expelled it slowly. “Bring up the building schematics.”
After a moment’s study on one of the side monitors, Joel shook his head. “My bedroom on the second floor is directly below your lab on the third.”
“I fell through the floor.” Kayla’s gut chilled. There could be no other explanation.
Joel shrugged. “Look here.”
At the bottom of the frame her bare arm protruded up through the sagging sleeve of her blouse.
Her mind whirled with the possibilities. “I have to get back to my lab and analyze that chemical soup.”
Joel put a warm hand on her shoulder. “No, you have to get some rest. It’s after midnight, you’ve been working all day, and you’ve just been through a traumatic experience. You’re riding an adrenaline high right now, but eventually you’re going to crash. Take one of the spare apartments upstairs and lie down for a bit. I’m getting a doctor to examine you, then I want you to try to get some sleep.”
She puffed up her chest to protest, but before she could say the words, Joel stepped in front of her, hands raised.
“I know. I know. You won’t be able to sleep. You still need to lie down for a bit. You’ve been through a lot, and I want a doctor to give you an all-clear before I set you loose in your lab once again.”
Determination fought with common sense. A crash would be incoming as soon as the adrenaline wore off. She knew the damn science—she was an MD . . . almost. She needed some sleep . . . upstairs . . . alone in the dark.
Vertigo threatened.
Tamping down her fears, she nodded. “A couple of hours. I’ll be in apartment four.”
The suite had been assigned for her use a few weeks ago when everyone started noting her long hours. Countless times she’d been reminded not to drive home tired. She knew her limits and the apartment remained unused.
Joel walked with her to the elevator. When he stepped into the car with her, she almost protested. She could certainly put herself to bed.
But there was comfort in his presence. She’d just seen how close she’d come to dying tonight. That bullet had gone through her. As much as she considered herself an independent woman, there was a pretty scared little girl shuddering inside her right then. The thought of being alone sent a shiver coursing through her.
The second floor of the Xi Force Headquarters held the team’s living space. Only a few of the apartments were occupied, but the hope was to have a full squad of super-powered humans in residence someday. Currently they had two.
Joel and Chris, the two zombiebots. It was a start.
“I’m posting some guards in your lab.” He guided her toward the room.
He could send orders from the computer in his brain without ever leaving her side. Thank goodness. At this moment, she really needed him.
“Just make sure no one touches anything until I get up there.” No one messed with her lab.
“I know.” A soft smile creased his lips.
Using her access card, she opened the door to the apartment.
He stayed with her through the main room into the bedroom. Was he going to undress her and tuck her in? That thought sent a warm ripple through her. He’d already seen her naked . . . naked and in his bed. Okay, not the way she’d thought about it . . . night after night . . . at home alone.
Still, he’d seen her. She’d seen him.
He sleeps naked?
That had been a revelation. A very nice revelation.
She’d caught hints of Joel’s physique while designing his uniform, but that glimpse of him completely naked hadn’t been something she could ignore, despite her fear and anger at that moment. Even now—tired as hell, annoyed at whoever’d broken into her lab and stolen from her, and worried about whatever the fuck happened to her in that chemical stew—desire stirred in the corners of her mind.
And down below.
“I’ll wait out here while you get into bed.” Joel placed his hand on the doorknob.
Icy fingers coiled through her gut. At the corners of her vision, vertigo, like a dark, imposing presence, narrowed her field of view at the thought of being alone, even with Joel only a room away. No, she was stronger than this. She didn’t need . . .
Still. “Stay . . . please. Just . . . turn around?”
She caught the hint of his warm smile once again before he faced the door. “It’s going to be okay.”
Releasing the just slightly too tight bra, she slid her arms and hands into the T-shirt to remove the straps without taking off the shirt. “I suppose it doesn’t make much difference. You’ve already seen me naked anyway.”
Was she inviting him to look?
“The fact that I ogled you once doesn’t give me any special privilege. Those were extenuating circumstances.” His voice took on a huskier tone.
She toed off her shoes and dropped her jeans. “You ogled me?”
His soft chuckle trickled a thrill up her spine. “Oh, I ogled you. I suppose I should apologize, but I can’t truthfully say I’m sorry. I’ve been kicking myself for not turning on my internal recording camera fast enough to capture the image.”
His teasing reassured her. That was so Joel.
“And I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?” The banter brought a sense of normalcy to the chaos boiling within her. Joel, so easy to talk to, still took as well as he gave in a verbal exchange.
She kicked out of her jean legs, then slid between the sheets in just her panties and T-shirt. The cool crispness encased her, then began to warm. “You can turn back around now.”
He turned back to her. The humor in his eyes didn’t completely mask his deep concern. “I’ll try not to ogle.”
She had a mental image of her own she wouldn’t mind ogling again. “So, do you always sleep naked?”
Joel’s cheeks reddened. “I never used
to. I read somewhere . . . it was supposed to be healthier for your . . . shit, since I got this computer stuck in my head, I spend way too much time on Facebook.”
He plopped down into the chair across the room, his eyes glazing the way they did when he received an internal text message or email. “The doctor is on her way up. Try not to give her a hard time.”
“Mary?” Beside herself, the only other female medical doctors on staff were Heather, who was off on her honeymoon, and Mary Cullen. Mary was a bit on the sullen side, but they’d always gotten along. Why would Joel think she’d give Mary a hard time?
The outer door opened and hurried footsteps tromped toward the bedroom. “Kayla?”
No way.
She sat up in bed. “Heather, honey, what the hell are you doing here?”
Dr. Heather Logan . . . correction, Heather Johnson, dropped her medical bag next to the bed, and embraced Kayla. “We’ve been back almost a day, hiding out at Chris’s apartment down in Coal Town after that whole picture fiasco.”
Kayla chuckled. “You mean the butt shot seen ‘round the world?”
Heather rolled her eyes. “Oh God, is that what they’re calling it now?”
The paparazzi had been merciless to poor Heather and Chris during their honeymoon. Just two days ago a photo went viral, purported to be Chris, standing naked in his hotel room. Fuzzy, and from the back, it had obviously been shot through a window across the street from their hotel.
“So, was it Chris?” Her enquiring mind wanted to know.
Heather shook her head. “I told him to keep the curtains drawn. He thought being on the thirty-first floor offered some kind of protection from the cameras. Thank goodness he wasn’t turned the other way and the bed was not in view of the window.”
Laughter bubbled up, replacing some of the dark dread inside her.
Phaze Page 2
