Heated Match

by Lynne Silver

  Adam eyed his friend with a sidelong glance as they reached the gym’s steel doors. He shook off his maudlin thoughts and swallowed the anger that the administration wanted him to match and mate. Usually there was a choice, or Shep went about it more stealthily. Part of him was relieved his mom was no longer alive to see him strong-armed into matching. After all the trouble it had caused her, she’d be tormented the system was still in place and affecting her eldest son.

  “Ready?” Xander flung open the door with a gleam in his eye.

  “Bring it on.”

  “Let’s do it.” Xander jogged over to the far side of the room and perched on a metal bench to untie his shoelaces. Then he crossed over to a cabinet and threw it open. He pulled out some headgear and large, rectangular pads with straps on the back. Adam headed for the locker room to pull on his sweats and cup. He knew Xander would go full contact. No sense in getting injured. Though at the moment, getting a few groin kicks seemed as good excuse as any to avoid kicking off the next generation of Program soldiers. Even if he agreed to reproduce, there was no guarantee his kid would sign on to the Program at age eighteen. There was always a choice, unless Shep planned on removing that too.

  Xander joined him in the locker room and lifted a faded Jane’s Addiction t-shirt over his head and dropped it where he stood. Then he pulled on a plain black t-shirt. “Let’s go.” He gestured with his head toward the door then headed out.

  Chapter Two

  “You’re right, Steve, it was unprofessional and irresponsible,” Loren said for what felt like the millionth time that morning. If he was going to fire her, she wished he’d go ahead and do it already rather than force her to listen to his harsh, repetitive lecture. She struggled not to yawn, but she’d been up all night fighting an edgy restlessness alternating with peaks of arousal.

  “If you had only stayed until the party ended,” her boss said, and now Loren fully understood his anger. They’d been scooped. Big-time. By several party guests with cell phones. If they were keeping score, it’d be bloggers—one, credentialed journalists—zero. Well he couldn’t possibly be angrier with her than she was at herself. If only she had stayed, she’d have had a great view of the kidnapped birthday boy from her stance in the back of the room. Maybe she could have even stopped the kidnapping and saved the parents from heartbreak and the terror they had to be feeling now.

  “I did see something,” she said yet again.

  “You saw nothing. Two guys walking out to the balcony.” Steve finally calmed enough to collapse into his chair. “That proves nothing. They probably just went out for a smoke.”

  “Really? Two male guests, one with a possible blood-stained shirt, strolled outside arm in arm? That doesn’t strike you as odd?” She quailed under the exasperated look he threw her and knew she was grasping at straws. She’d messed up and was going to have to pedal harder and faster to prove herself once again as worthy of writing for the paper. If only she could shake off the weird antsy feeling she’d carried since her dance last night.

  “No odder than a Washington Post journalist leaving five minutes before the guest of honor is kidnapped.”

  Finally she stood. “Steve, I’ve apologized and I’ll keep apologizing, but now time’s a-wasting. Do you want me to go clean my desk out? Because I will, but I’d prefer to go back to my desk and get to work.”

  She and Steve held a staring contest for another few seconds before her boss sighed and shrugged in defeat. “Fine. Go find Derrick. I’ve assigned him the Christenson kidnapping. See if he needs an assist.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a conciliatory smile. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

  She strode back to her desk to delay finding Derrick until she could catch her breath and find her composure. She pretended to check email until a pair of manicured male hands settled onto her shoulders in a mockery of a massage. She craned her neck to see Derrick Bloom, top Post reporter standing behind her. They weren’t the hands she wanted on her. There was no comparison between last night’s dance partner’s strong hands on her waist and Derrick’s almost effeminate hands.

  “What are you doing, Derrick?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders.

  “Helping you relax. Heard you got reamed for last night’s screw-up.”

  She scowled and turned back to her monitor. “I didn’t screw up that badly. My job was to report on the food, the power couples in attendance and the gossip. How was I supposed to know the poor kid would get snatched the moment I left?”

  Derrick strolled to her desk and perched his skinny ass on the edge. “You couldn’t have known it, but I would’ve stayed until the party ended.”

  She gave a snort. “Free champagne, caviar and society matrons in skimpy dresses? Of course you would’ve stayed.”

  He grinned affably, reminding her in full force why he was popular around the office. As a previous Pulitzer Prize nominee, he accepted adulation from lowly female beat reporters and researchers as his due. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome in a Patrick Dempsey, pre-Grey’s Anatomy sort of way.

  He’d made it clear he wanted more from Loren, but she wasn’t ready to take it to the next level. Sure, he was great as a plus-one for parties. What girl didn’t want a go-to for a Saturday night movie? But he didn’t make her sizzle, and her mom was always reminding her to wait for the right man, a man who could make her toes curl.

  “Lori, listen. Steve told me to use you to assist covering the kidnapping case, and I’m willing to help you get back on your feet.”

  She swallowed angry words at his arrogance. “Call me Loren. I told you I hate Lori.”

  “Sorry, baby, I forgot. Listen, I can’t stay long, I have a lead on the kidnapping. Big. Huge. Pulitzer Prize big.” He paused for dramatic effect and looked around to make sure the other cubicle grunts were listening. He began in a stage whisper. “Check this out.” He leaned over her to enter a URL into her internet browser.

  A small black screen came up while the video loaded. Loren watched the grainy, now-famous video of two men in all black run down a city alley and begin to brawl.

  “What’s so important about this?” She looked up at Derrick. “Everyone in the world saw this last week when the genetically enhanced soldier story broke.”

  “Right,” he said. “Wait for it…” He paused the video and pointed. “There, see?”

  She leaned in with narrowed eyes to examine an image of a man lurking in the alley watching the fight. “Um, what am I supposed to see? Another man is watching the fight. So?”

  Derrick popped a flash drive into her computer. “This is a copy of the surveillance video from last night’s party.”

  “How did you get that?” She craned her neck to stare up at him.

  He grinned at her. “Two words. Pulitzer Prize, baby.”

  “That’s three,” she muttered and watched as the jerky, poor-quality video flashed onto her monitor. They watched in silence until Derrick slammed down on her mouse button to freeze it.

  “There.”

  Her stomach did an uncomfortable flip when she saw he’d paused at the dance between her and the handsome man. “That’s me. I didn’t kidnap the baby.”

  “Not saying you did. Look closer at your dance partner’s face and now look at the guy in the alley.”

  She squinted and examined the two figures with a sudden, sinking feeling. They were…

  “The same guy. He’s one of them, a Program freak, and he clearly likes you.”

  “No he doesn’t.” She shook her head, shocked that the handsome, sexy man with whom she’d spoken was a genetically enhanced fighting machine. He’d seemed harmless holding that champagne glass. Well, not harmless exactly. He’d certainly done dangerous things to her imagination. “Keep watching the video. I left the party, and when I returned, he was walking outside with his arm around another man.” She shifted in the chair and leaned her chest against the edge of the desk, hoping to alleviate the sudden burning and tingling in her nipples. What was wrong
with her? As soon as she had a free moment, she was heading to a drugstore to pick up some vitamins, anything to quell her heated blood.

  Derek’s calculating grin flashed. “I can’t watch the rest of the video. It cuts out shortly after this. Someone knew what he was doing. The whole hotel lost video surveillance at 8:22. Three minutes after you walked away from the freak party guest.”

  “Who’s obviously not a guest, but there for security.”

  “Right. Christenson hired the Program to act as guards.” He snorted. “Who said they were the best? The kidnapping happened right under their noses.”

  Loren stared at the monitor’s image of her dancing with the man until it was burned into her brain. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I’m going to the press conference MPD is holding. You’re going to head to the Program’s compound out in Beltsville, Maryland. Go find your Romeo and don’t leave until you learn everything he knows.”

  She stared at him, thrilled and breathless at the idea of seeing her mysterious dance partner again.

  “Rumor on the street is it’s a training facility and breeding ground. There’s a Commander Shepard. You’ll also want to find him to interview.”

  She frowned for a moment, working out the logistics of getting to Beltsville with no car. “Will The Post cover a taxi?” she asked, hoping he’d authorize the expense. There’d been no budget for nearly anything lately.

  Derrick looked nonplussed for a moment. “The Metro doesn’t go out there?”

  “Well,” Loren capitulated. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll rent a car. Breaking this story will be worth the expense of the car rental.” She grinned at Derrick, grateful for the opportunity on such a huge story then paused. Had Derrick always been pale and pasty-looking? Her glance darted to the tan, tall man on screen, but she quickly averted her eyes. The hot man was a total unknown, not a good date for a Saturday night.

  “Smart girl.” He ruffled the top of her head. “I knew I could count on you. Get back to me by Sunday at the latest. If you get dirt of the caliber I think you’ll get, we’re talking byline for you, Lori. Front page stuff.” He ruffled her head again, ignoring that it was in a ponytail, and now looked like a rat’s nest. “Okay, I’m off.”

  She scowled at his back then called after him, “It’s Loren!” She fumed for a moment and decided Derrick Bloom was never getting inside her favorite Gap boot cuts and was hereby cut as her plus-one. She turned back to her monitor to look up Beltsville on a map. Derrick made it a habit to dump his basic research off onto young Post talent, but she knew this was a huge lead. Despite his pompousness, he was a really good journalist. If helping him meant a possible byline shot then she’d haul ass out to Beltsville, and if the prospect of coming face-to-face with her tall, sexy man from last night got her tingly, so be it. She was a professional.

  *

  “According to Adam and Chase, the man with the gun was an invited guest.” Shep stood next to a whiteboard at the front of the crowded multipurpose meeting room. Jumbled codes and words in green and blue marker filled the white space haphazardly. Adam leaned back in his chair, fiddling with a pen. He studied the hastily typed data sheet of last night’s debacle and racked his brain for anything he’d seen that had been out of the ordinary. The only thing that came to mind was Loren in her little black dress.

  Gavin met his eyes from across the table and made a hand gesture that had Adam choking back a laugh. Then, feeling others’ eyes on him, he put on his game face, stood and strode to the front to add his comments to Shep’s meeting.

  “We were a target at last night’s operation. Whoever took Christenson’s kid knew we’d be there and acted accordingly.” He paused while unhappy hisses and grunts popped up from around the oval conference table.

  “Yeah, yeah. It sucks. It’s a whole new ballgame out there now that the world knows about us. No more ops with the quick in and out.”

  “Speak for yourself, Blacker,” Chase called. “Personally, I’ve never gone for the quick in and out.”

  He barely resisted throwing a marker at Chase. Adam stepped closer to the whiteboard and picked one up. “There’s a reason Christenson hired us. Local police or private security could’ve done the job, but he very specifically wanted us. Why? I think he’s hiding something, and I want to know what.” He scrawled out a bulleted list of two or three ideas for his cohorts. “Anything else anyone wants to add?”

  “Yes,” Chase said. “I also want to know why Christenson wanted us as guards. It’s not our usual job, and if you ask me, something’s wonky about the whole thing.”

  Shep stood and nodded. “Christenson is a powerful international ally, which is why I agreed to the job, but my neck’s been itchy ever since we took it. Most parents are protective of their children, but he seemed overly anxious when we spoke on the phone.”

  “Had he received any kidnapping threats?” Gavin asked and typed something on his ubiquitous laptop that seemed to be glued to his fingertips.

  “No.” Adam had gone over Shep’s file on the job numerous times this morning. It all seemed straightforward. Wealthy ambassador wanted elite bodyguards for his son despite no previous threats. In an effort to make nice with the public, Shep had agreed to do the job, despite it being different than their normal mission. Now the whole thing had gone FUBAR and they looked like incompetent assholes.

  *

  Loren rolled slowly along Baltimore Avenue in the heart of Beltsville, Maryland. Gas stations, fast food joints and appliance stores lined the four-lane road. Had she missed the Program compound? She decided to U-turn it and roll a two-mile stretch of it again. As she turned around, she noticed a tall chain-link fence farther down the side road.

  She shifted the car back on a straight trajectory and drove to investigate. There was no manned guardhouse at the entrance like at the CIA headquarters in Langley. Instead a small call box stood next to a sliding iron gate. She put the car in park and hopped out to investigate. A tiny sign hung on the gate. Property of the United States Government. No trespassing. Scrawled in blue permanent marker below the official block letters were the words We shoot to kill. A hard swallow took the lump in her throat down to her chest. Looked as if she’d found the now infamous site. Pulling her slim silver digital camera out of her purse she took a few shots of the gate and the sign.

  Off in the distance, she could make out a series of standard-issue low-slung government brick buildings. The nondescript exteriors could hide anything from computer databases, to administrative offices, to nuclear weapons. Even farther than the buildings, Loren saw teenage boys kicking around a soccer ball. Damn, they run fast. She snapped more photos of them. They looked like average teens and nothing indicated their genetic enhancements unless you counted the speed at which they ran and the distance they kicked the ball.

  *

  Adam’s team continued to call out observations and theories about the kidnapping. Xander spoke up, but Adam’s attention was caught by a movement on a security TV monitor in the corner of the room. A woman stood at the entrance, snapping pictures with a digital camera.

  Holy crap. Just what they needed today. Another female stalker hoping to be admitted to the breeding program. Would they continue to line up for the privilege of becoming a breed mate if they knew what his mom had gone through? The new Program groupies thought they were signing on for a man who would love them despite any obstacles because of a scientific DNA connection. Well, not always.

  Today’s groupie looked familiar, but it was hard to get an identity bead from the tiny, grainy black-and-white image.

  “Is that my sister?” Chase demanded, now also staring at the computer monitor.

  “Gavin,” Shep ordered, looking intently at the monitor. “Please go remove the camera from Ms. Stanton and send her packing.” Then he leaned over a small box next to the monitor and spoke into it, ignoring the surprised murmurs circling the room that Chase had a sister who was trying to step foot on campus. Only a select few knew Chase had
a sister born to the father who’d left the Program long ago.

  Adam circled back to his seat, the remaining points of his lecture forgotten. He tried to refocus, but his attention kept shifting over to the screen and the woman at the center of it. Loren. It was her. Same hair, same build. Same sexy little stance as she scoped her surroundings. What was she doing here? He found his chair and prayed no one noticed his suddenly rapid breathing and heightened alertness. She was coming closer, he could almost smell her alluring mixture of flowery shampoo and musky skin already.

  “Gentlemen.” Shep interrupted his jumbled thoughts. “One last order of business before we adjourn… I mentioned this to Adam last night, as he is your team leader, but now I mention it to all of you. It has not escaped my attention that not a single one of you has signed up for the breeding program.”

  A loud groan erupted in the room.

  Adam barely heard as his buddies shouted protests to Shep.

  “It’s archaic.”

  “I’m not getting married.”

  “What happened to the test tube idea?” Xander asked.

  Shep raised a hand and waited for silence. The respect the men held for him gained him silence in under a minute, despite the strong vociferous opinions everyone held on the topic of the breeding program. “In answer to your question,” he turned to Xander, “who would raise the children if we simply bred them? Despite what many think, this is not Brave New World and raising brainwashed children who can’t think or act for themselves has never been the goal. We need the next generation of soldiers. You are all past or nearing the age of thirty…”