Heated Match

by Lynne Silver

  “Break out the walkers and early bird specials,” Chase muttered, eliciting a laugh from those seated near him.

  Shep continued with a frown for Chase. “Despite your Peter Pan syndrome, reality and science dictate that you will grow too old to fight and your sperm loses its potency with every year. While you will still be able to father children, their enhanced abilities may be compromised.”

  *

  A booming, static voice coming from the call box speaker jerked Loren out of her observations. “Put the camera down, Ms. Stanton. Someone will be with you in ten seconds to confiscate the memory card.”

  Horrified, she turned to judge the distance between her and the driver’s seat of the car. Close. She could make it. Instinct told her to run, but then she remembered she was a reporter on a mission. An escape artist never got the scoop. Facing someone gave her a slight shot at a story. She stood her ground and observed a tall man jogging toward her. He wore army fatigues cut off at the knees and an Under Armour tee that did little to disguise the taut cut of his muscles. The large metal gate rolled open surprisingly quickly and quietly with none of the squeaking usually associated with gates.

  “Ms. Stanton,” he said as he approached. “Please hand over the camera’s memory card now.” His voice was pleasantly even-keeled, but make no mistake, it was an order not a request.

  She stared at him for a long second. Something was off. Then it registered. That was twice now they’d called her by name. “How’d you know my name?” she asked.

  A shadow of a smile crossed the soldier’s face. “That’s classified information.”

  “Of course it is,” she muttered. She took a deep breath and girded herself. “I’ll happily hand over the memory card after I meet with Commander Shepard. If I can’t meet with him, you’ll have to physically try for the card. And, I give you fair warning, I’m trained in martial arts. My dad made sure of it.”

  An odd expression crossed the man’s face. “I don’t doubt your skills, but Commander Shepard needs the camera, and you are not invited into our compound.”

  “Fine. Then you won’t mind when I write an article about dancing with one of your soldiers when he was supposed to be guarding Ambassador Christenson’s baby.” Loren held up her camera, switched the setting to video and held it up to the man’s face. “Tell me on the record. Is dancing part of your training?”

  “Christ!” the man muttered and stared at her as if she had sprouted an extra head. “Blacker danced with you?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She took a purposeful step past the black rolling gate and onto the grounds of the compound. Gravel and dust kicked up under her feet as she neatly sidestepped the man’s grab for her camera.

  “Loren, hand over the camera.”

  “Uh-uh. Not without an interview.” She hugged the camera tightly to her abdomen and kicked off a sprint toward the building. Admittedly, not one of her more professional moments, but desperate times and all that.

  She didn’t make it far. A scream flew from her lips as his strong hand wrapped around her ankle and pulled her down onto the ground. She twisted in time to avoid a face-to-dirt collision. Pain radiated up from her butt into her lower back. She managed to hold her head up, preventing a concussion, but barely. She held tight to her camera, cuddling it to her chest.

  The soldier straddled her legs and took hold of her wrists. He was strong, stronger than anyone she’d ever sparred against in martial arts classes. She thrust her forehead forward to slam the man’s nose. Blood ran down his face and he laughed. Laughed at her. She grappled with him a bit more, but knew it was a losing battle. He was too strong.

  Loren was about to admit defeat when another body whizzed by her and launched himself at the man on top of her. The pair went flying. She observed from the ground as her original attacker took the missionary position under the assault of a well-trained foe.

  She watched for a moment, still in shock, and then saw her chance to escape. Loren snatched her purse from the ground, stood and took a creeping step toward the nearest brick building.

  “Hold it!”

  She froze in place at the sound of the barked order. Her first attacker had been strong. This second man was downright terrifying, and she hadn’t even seen his face, only the back of his dark curls. She stayed still and surreptitiously slipped her camera back into her purse. The man turned around and her heart pounded furiously. It was her sexy dance partner from last night, only he didn’t look harmless now. Maybe it was the absence of his easygoing grin and lack of tuxedo, but he was full-on scary soldier at this moment.

  Every bit of information the media had shed about the Program’s genetically enhanced soldiers filed through her brain. How they were modern-day ninjas, assassins who could break into any secure building, kill silently and escape even more quickly.

  Without pause, she turned on her heels and skidded in the gravel in a mad dash to the safety of her car. Derrick was welcome to this interview. She wasn’t suicidal. Her fingers wrapped around the door handle but strong arms lifted her from behind before she could open the door. She maintained a death grip on the door and it swung open as the man hoisted her over his shoulder and turned toward the compound. He held her easily with one hand and used his other to grab the car keys, ignoring her purse when it fell on the ground. He tossed them to Loren’s first attacker.

  “Take care of the car and her purse.”

  She kicked and pounded at him with her fists, but he maintained a steady pace. Acid in her stomach roiled with each jostling step and nausea from fear threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Let me go,” she shrieked. “Or…or…or I’ll tell your Commander Shepard you’re kidnapping me.”

  The man holding her said nothing, just kept a firm grip on her and kept walking toward the red-brick building, which loomed closer with every step.

  She used her nails to claw at her captor’s muscled back and to her annoyance he hissed in reaction, but didn’t release her. Finally she bellowed, “Put me down, you jerk.” She let out a yelp as her world righted itself and she was placed back on her feet on solid ground.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” the hot, murderous-looking man told her.

  They looked at each other for a second. Her heart raced and her traitorous body still thought he was the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. Last night he could’ve doubled for a younger, larger version of Pierce Brosnan’s Bond with his hair tamed by comb and product and his hard body filling a tuxedo. Today, his curls fell in disarray around his forehead and khakis cut off at the knees showed off powerful calves sprinkled with dark hairs. A ripped and faded DC101 chili cook-off t-shirt barely covered his muscular torso, allowing tantalizing glimpses of a rock-hard stomach. He looked all too edible and sexy. Killer, killer, killer. She repeated the mantra in her mind to nudge her body into some semblance of self-preservation.

  He kept staring then muttered, “Come on.” He turned and started for the compound without waiting for her. She stood her ground, wavering. She wanted the news story, but all rules that applied to the free press didn’t seem to be followed here. She had some serious hesitation about entering a building with a known assassin where the inhabitants thought it amusing to graffiti the words We Shoot to Kill on the entrance.

  Her first attacker began laughing like a loon again. “Blacker,” he called, “she’s not following.” He seemed to think it hilarious that she again spun to leave, forcing this Blacker man to turn back to retrieve her.

  Loren’s heart sped up as Blacker rotated to her, his face a dark mask of annoyance. Last night, his good looks had made her heart pound. Today, fear drummed a steady beat in her as he stalked back and took her elbow in a firm grasp. The first man took off toward her car and then got in and drove it onto the compound.

  She’d found him. Elation and dread spiraled through Adam as he frog-marched Loren toward the compound. He knew he’d catch shit from everyone about leaping out of the meeting to Loren’s rescue the way he did, but damn, if he
didn’t want to kill Gavin for daring to touch her. When Shep had sent Gavin out to intercept her, Adam had a kindergarten flashback, feeling like a kid raising his hand in desperation. “Pick me. Pick me.”

  He’d sat for exactly two-point-eight seconds before he gave in to his urge, no, need, to see and talk to her again.

  Of course he’d done his best to let none of his thoughts betray him, and instead folded his arms impassively. He’d tried focus, but his gaze kept returning to the video monitors showing various security spots of the compound. When Gavin had pulled Loren’s legs out from under her, he’d seen red.

  He’d leapt from his chair, escaped the meeting and flown out to cause major bodily harm to Gavin. Protective fury flamed in his gut. He’d be damned if anyone hurt her.

  He threw a side glance at the woman he held on to a little too closely. Gravel clung to her thick hair and angry red streaks stained her cheeks. She didn’t drag her feet, but she wasn’t exactly skipping beside him either.

  “You can’t kill me.” She flung her words like a child throwing a Frisbee. Fast. Spiraling out of control. “My boss knows I’m here. My boyfriend too.”

  At those last words, he tightened his grip and walked faster. The word “kill” and “boyfriend” clawed at him like a mouse escaping a cage. Was it serious? Did she love him? The only person he was tempted to kill was the boyfriend. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said. “My boss might, but I won’t.”

  “Why should I believe you? Isn’t that what you’re trained to do? Let me go.” She yanked her arm, but he held firm.

  “No can do. Sorry. You were at last night’s party, and we’re investigating the kidnapping.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I’m covering the kidnapping for The Post.” A note of hope rang in her voice that perhaps he’d be forced to let a member of the free press go. Not bloody likely.

  “Uh-huh. We’re officially off the case. You should’ve gone to MPD or the FBI for the official press statement.” He leaned into her, slightly inhaling her scent and cursing his desire to pick her up and haul her off to the nearest bed.

  “Yes, I should have. If you let me go, I’ll head there now.” She stopped walking for a minute, but she was SOL today.

  For reasons surpassing his understanding, he was once again disregarding orders just to be close to this woman. He tugged her arm again to get her moving and they strolled in sight of the main office building. “I’m not some serial killer you know.” Fuck, why was he defending himself? Maybe because after last week’s expose, the world thought they were little more than robotic assassins posing as humans. And for mysterious reasons he couldn’t fathom, he didn’t want Loren Stanton thinking that about him.

  “You’re an ass is what you are.” She narrowed her eyes at him then shook her head and lowered her voice to a very quiet undertone. “I can’t believe I thought you were cute last night.”

  He didn’t let on that he’d heard her words. He didn’t want to upset her more, but inside he felt a smile burst up through his chest and threaten to cover his whole face. She’d thought he was cute… She also thought he was a cold-blooded killer. He lost the smile.

  “What? You think this is funny?” Hurt poured off her in waves. “Wipe that smirk off your face.”

  He stopped and turned to face her directly. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m trying to decide how to protect you from my boss.” He gently tugged a piece of gravel out of a curl hanging over her cheek. “And I think you look pretty good yourself.”

  She stared at him, her mouth hanging open a bit. Then she caught herself and slapped his hand out of the way. “I’m a mess right now thanks to you and your buddy. And I don’t need protection. I can take of myself.”

  He smiled at her gently, disbelieving he was flirting with her. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but his hand seemed to have a mind of its own and ended up in her hair. Damn, it was soft, even with the gravel. But he had to back away and leave her to Shep. And he would as soon as he ensured her protection from his commander.

  “I’m sure you can take care of yourself, but you wandered into some serious shit here.”

  “Why can’t you let me go? I promise I’ll never say a thing to anyone.”

  His facial expression shuttered closed. “Bullshit. You already admitted you’re covering the kidnapping for The Post.”

  She paled slightly. “I’m just trying to do my job. Don’t punish me for that.”

  He picked up their pace toward the main office building. “Let’s go see what Shep has to say.”

  Chapter Three

  They continued the remaining fifty feet of the path to the building. The distant sound of highway traffic filled the air, accompanied by their feet crunching on the gravel. When they reached the entrance, he flattened his palm onto a small, black metal box warmed from the hot summer sun. Then he reached into another metal box that hung next to the scanner and pulled out an individually wrapped cotton swab. “Here, wipe your inner cheek then put it back in this plastic baggie.”

  “Huh? Why?” She eyed the bag as though it held poison.

  “Standard procedure for any visitors.” The DNA entry had been designed for their protection. Lots of superficial identity things could be faked or fudged, even a palm scan. A cheek swab done on the spot was trickier. Besides, it was only one of the many protective devices occurring while he and Loren stood in the entry. The palm scan was one, and was only for residents of the compound. The cotton swab was another. In addition, a highly specialized camera digitally recorded them and analyzed facial features. It was then compared to a large database of known enemies and friends alike. As soon as a new person entered the compound, their image would be entered into that database.

  Loren was unaware of all of this as she swabbed her mouth with the cotton and put it in the bag. He took the bag and placed it in a bank-like deposit drawer. Then the large metal door in front of them clicked and Adam swung it open. They entered a tiny, bare room lit by harsh fluorescents and the door behind them closed with a solid bang. He held up one finger to Loren to tell her to hang on. He counted to five then saw the green light on the next door. He held it open for her and motioned her forward and responded to the questioning look in her eyes. “Safety precautions. We use a basic mantrap, like at a bank.” He neglected to tell her there was nothing basic about the poisonous toxins emitted if the wrong person triggered an alarm.

  She took in her surroundings with curious eyes. Then she turned to Adam. “I heard the other guy call you Blacker. Is that your first or last name?”

  He held out his hand and started to introduce himself but had second thoughts. “Sorry. It’s probably better for you if you don’t know my name.”

  But it was too late. She’d already grasped his palm and emitted a gasp.

  He managed to cloak his reaction better, but it was a similar sensation to last night’s dance with her. An almost electric tingle ran from their connected palms up his arm then flowed throughout his blood. He met her wide-eyed gaze.

  “What are you doing to me?” she asked in a shaky voice.

  “Nothing. I was going to ask the same of you.”

  They stood connected for another minute, breathing in sync until she finally managed to pull her hand away first. “I think you should take me inside now.”

  Loren concentrated on slowing her pounding heart as her escort walked her up a narrow corridor, which resembled every government office she’d ever been in. The tingles running through her body were at odds with her surroundings. Dull gray carpeting on the floor, beige walls adorned with photographs of current and former presidents and harsh fluorescent lights completed the look. She didn’t know what she’d expected. Not this. Surely such a top-secret military compound should have moving walkways and sliding doors at the very least. She glanced at the silent man padding alongside her and sensed the strength in him was the main secret to this military compound.

  He took her elbow again and the skin at her arm prickled in little bum
ps at his proximity. His forearm grazed the side of her breast, and she threw him a sidelong glance, which he met.

  “Adam,” said an older gentleman, a trim man with a crew cut and a military flair to his crisp, white button-down, who appeared in the hallway ahead.

  Now she knew his name, but there was no time to celebrate that tiny victory. They both looked up like guilty children at the man’s appearance.

  “Sorry, Shep. I don’t know what came over me,” Adam said.

  “Bring Ms. Stanton to conference room alpha. We’ll discuss the situation further.”

  He nodded and tugged gently at her arm to get her moving down the hall. He swung open an unmarked door and gestured she should enter. The room was as nondescript as the hallway with a small wooden table, two vinyl chairs, a sofa and another door that looked as though it led to a bathroom. Two bottles of flavored water rested on the table. It was a brand she’d never heard of.

  “Sir, this is Loren Stanton.” Blacker seemed to emphasize her last name.

  “I know who she is,” Commander Shepard said with a scowl. “Have a seat, Ms. Stanton. You too, Adam.” He pointed to the couch, his tone brooking no disobedience.

  She sat on one edge of a cushion as far as possible from Adam, because she didn’t trust herself not to turn to him for comfort against Commander Shepard’s chilly welcome. The chill was somewhat welcome in the room, which was not air-conditioned. The summer heat was uncomfortable, especially after her exertions over her camera.

  “I forgot my pen,” Shep said. “Stay here, you two. I’ll be back in a minute.” He turned and exited, shutting the door behind him with a snick.

  They sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute. She tried not to stare at him, because every glance elevated her heart rate and sent a lovely floating feeling to the juncture of her thighs. Not a very professional state. She desperately tried to recreate her mental question list for Commander Shepard and wished she still maintained control of her purse with her notes inside. “Your commander doesn’t seem to want me here.”