by Joni Hahn
Where the other agent’s systems involved their bloodstream, Riordan’s system only tied into his central nervous system. His solid hydrogen energy source powered a control module integrated with his magnetic hands to read his brain activity. Whatever he thought, it happened.
Concentrating on the wrench, he lifted it off the bed with ease.
Clint gave him a big grin. “Great. Okay, turn it to hover vertically in the air.”
Raising his palm face out, the wrench followed it to hover inches in front of his hand.
Clint motioned for everyone to press against the walls again. “Now, I want you to repel it across the room.”
Glancing toward his teammates, gave an arrogant grin. “Don’t try this at home, kids.”
Shoving out his hand to arm’s length, the wrench shot across the room and lodged into the sheetrock wall.
“Damn…” Tristan gave him a fist bump.
“Impressive control. Excellent.” Clint grabbed the wrench from the hole in the wall and set it on the bed. “I had anticipated a large learning curve with this enhancement but you’re already beyond my expectations.”
Mind control had been the only thing he could work on while he lived in solitary. He’d learned to ignore pain, to remain silent when others screamed, to not… feel.
That’s why this feeling of melancholy over Natalie Meeks irked him. She’d gotten beyond his devices, his defenses, despite his work to the contrary.
Aidan said, “Now, if he could only control the other brain.”
Dar laughed. “Hell, Monroe, he said the doc didn’t want to have anything to do with him. The only thing he’s got to control now is how cold his shower water flows.”
Riordan couldn’t help getting in his own jab at Monroe. “Monroe knows my control is damned impressive, isn’t that right?”
When Riordan dated Cass, she’d been a fragile, terrified woman. He’d had to take things slow with her and never had the chance to sleep with her before he’d left.
She’d been a virgin when she met Aidan.
“That had to be how you earned the name Saint.” Aidan gave him a knowing grin.
Tristan laughed aloud. “So, how powerful is he, Robinson? Can he move buildings, cars…?”
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Time will tell, Tristan. Realistically, I would say he’s only as strong as what his body weight can sustain. Right now, he can bench three fifty so he could control something that heavy.”
Glancing at each of them, Clint held up a finger. “However, I wouldn’t be surprised if he could sustain a force much greater. While his hands are limitless, it all depends on the structural integrity of his bones and muscles. That’s why his physical fitness is so important.”
He grinned. “Then again, if Saint wanted a crutch, he could always stand against a brick wall. His body could use that support to control something that much larger.”
Aidan whistled low as he glanced at Riordan. “Damn, that’s impressive, Clint.”
Pride shown in the scientist’s eyes. He elbowed Riordan. “Let’s see how you do scaling a wall.”
Dar dropped his arms to his sides. “He can climb a wall?”
Clint nodded. “If the structure is built with steel beams, he can climb along the beams.”
“Damn, Saint,” Tristan said, with a shake of his head, “That could come in handy.”
Riordan followed Clint to the door, anxious to climb himself.
“Holy shit, Saint.” Aidan’s exclamation stopped him in the doorway.
He turned around. His teammates’ gazes all fell on his scarred back. The whippings and beatings were something he didn’t want to discuss. He just wanted to move ahead and show them all he could do this.
Making light of the situation, he said, “Yeah, I’ve got the baddest tattoo, by far.”
Clint had taken a picture for him. It contained a cluster of three atoms – neodymium, iron and boron. A spherical magnetic field hovered behind them.
Dar said, “Like hell, Saint. My clock is the ultimate.”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Aidan said, as they walked down the hall to the elevator. “Everyone knows lightning is universal for cool and dangerous.”
“And everyone knows the lot of you are full of shit,” Mitchell said, as he stopped in front of the elevator. “Before Saint goes playing Spiderman, I want to update him on his identity, and it’s something all of you need to hear.”
Dammit, was nothing private around there?
Mitchell gave him a bored stare. “And, before you get your panties in a wad, Saint, you’re part of this team now. Nothing’s private amongst us.”
Damned mind reader. Riordan had to get used to the idea of a team. Even though he’d been part of Naylor’s squad of agents, he’d always worked alone. Less liability, more predictability.
Riordan glanced around at his teammates. “So, I take it they’ve read my file?”
“Yes, we have,” Tristan said. “Finding out who paid Naylor to send you away is a top priority. As long as they’re out there, you’re vulnerable. That makes us vulnerable.”
A foreign sense of pride washed through Riordan, swelling his chest. He’d never known the strength of a team. With their combined super powers, maybe they were virtually unstoppable.
“Have you questioned Rose?” Riordan said, his gut twisting.
Mitchell studied his phone before he looked up. “I told you, Rose knows nothing. After you went missing, he did his own investigation on your disappearance. When Naylor told him to stop digging, he came to me and asked if I wanted a double agent.”
Shock resounded through Riordan. He looked to Dar for confirmation.
He nodded. “Rose fed him information from the beginning, Saint. D.I.R.E. always had the upper hand – even before Clint’s enhancements. Rose has been part of the agency’s success from the get go.”
Riordan gave a dawning grin. “That’s how you knew about my intel on Robinson’s radiated heat research.”
Clint gave him a narrow-eyed glare.
“Speaking of heat,” Riordan said, “Meeks had John Warner in her office when I stopped by the other day.”
Mitchell stared at him with raised brows. “And...?”
Riordan held out his hands like he cradled a coffee cup. “He took her coffee cup in his hands and heated it.”
“So?” Aidan said.
Glancing at his teammate, he looked back at Mitchell. “When I shook his hand, it literally burned me. Her cup was warm, but not hot like his hand. It was like he could control his body temperature.”
Mitchell’s gaze shot to Clint. “Is that possible?”
“Not only is it possible,” Clint said, “but we could be dealing with the person that stole my research. It sounds a lot like my project.”
Riordan nodded. “Either way, John Warner did something to burn my hand.”
Clint said, “I don’t doubt it. His brother, Paul, studied at M.I.T. while I attended school there. He hopped from one experiment to another without ever finishing any of them. He had a brilliant mind but could never carry through.”
Tristan frowned, arms crossed over his chest. “With Paul dead, what is John doing now?”
A curl of jealousy bloomed in Riordan’s chest. “Trying to get into Natalie’s pants.”
“I wouldn’t doubt that, Saint,” Mitchell said. “When Paul died, she inherited all of his assets – including his stock in Warner and his position on the board.”
“What?” He lowered his hands to his sides.
Mitchell stared at him with raised brows. “Yes, she and Warner were involved at the time of his death.”
Disbelief rushed through him on a wave of anger. Why hadn’t she said anything? Why hadn’t Mitchell?
“And you hired her to work with me?”
Glaring at him, Mitchell crossed his arms in front of him. “Natalie is not involved in this either, Saint.”
Dar chimed in. “How do you know? Her fa
ther’s been known to dip his toe in the illegal pool from time to time.”
Mitchell glared at Dar before turning to his son. “Tristan, John Warner runs several of the Warner business holdings – including their technology company. From what I understand, he and Paul worked closely with their R&D department.”
Riordan ran his hands through his hair. Dammit, did the man get off on keeping information from him?
Mitchell said, “Just as we predicted, Saint, our request for new identification caused a ripple in the imposter’s disguise. Not only has he taken a sudden vacation to Maui, Luke Powers has started his own investigation. I want to see where that leads, so I had to put a stop to another investigation into your past.”
Riordan pulled back his head. “Another investigation? Who? And, why the sudden interest in me?”
“It was Dan Meeks.”
He blew out a breath. “Why am I not surprised?” Riordan clenched his fists. “I thought he already knew all about me.”
Mitchell said, “He was royally pissed I pulled rank on him and stopped it. I’m sure he’ll find another way to get his information. I’ve just got to make sure Powers doesn’t get wind of it.”
“Damn, Mitchell. You pulled rank on a Senator?” Aidan’s eyes went wide.
He cocked a brow. “Damned straight, Monroe. I’ve worked my ass off to make it clear across the world that no one messes with D.I.R.E.”
Tristan braced an arm on the door jam. “If Meeks thinks his daughter is in danger, could he have started the inquiry just to protect her?”
Mitchell shook his head. “No, this was a deep, I-don’t-care-what-you-have-to-do-or-what-the-cost-is kind of investigation. It went beyond personal interest.”
“Why are you worried about Powers finding out?” Riordan said. “Have Meeks and Powers butted heads in the past?”
With a sarcastic smirk, Mitchell gave an exaggerated nod.
“Oh, yes. Powers has been instrumental in the fight against government regulation of private industry and its inventions. With Powers’ cutting edge mobile technology and society’s hunger for it, Meeks believes Powers has too much power over the country’s way of life.”
He held out his hand. “On the other hand, Powers also supports anyone running against Meeks, regardless of their platform. Meeks’ cronies in the capital want either a part of Powers’ profits, or to reduce Powers’ influence to rubble. The government doesn’t like competition when it comes to control.”
“So, you think the identity thief and Saint’s disappearance are connected?” Aidan frowned, his arms crossed in front of him.
Mitchell shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He looked at Riordan. “Either way, we have to consider Saint in danger until proven otherwise.”
#####
Natalie watched the crowd exit the building and funnel onto the sidewalk like ants leaving an anthill. One second the sidewalk looked deserted, the next it overflowed with workers eager to get home. Friday meant two days off for most of them.
For Natalie, it meant just another day of missing Riordan.
Crossing her arms over her middle, she leaned against the window frame. Her father had told her Riordan was dangerous.
He had no bloody idea.
Riordan St. James had made her face her true self. Her choices, her mistakes… her lies. The term obnoxious suited him, his in-your-face honesty and gumption downright frightening – and refreshing.
She got away with nothing in his presence. She couldn’t run away from her fears, her desires, her past. He made her face them all, whether she wanted to or not.
Yes, she’d wanted him that day at the pool. God, how she’d wanted him. The heated look in his sky blue eyes had flooded her with sharp and shocking desire. If they’d been alone, he could’ve had her that day – within minutes of meeting him.
She had no shame.
He’d made her face the cold, hard fact that she did run from problems, despite the lies she told herself. She’d run from her father’s public life as soon as she graduated high school. She’d left home and went to college clear across the country, just to leave behind the etiquette and magnifying glass of her life.
However, when she’d found herself ousted from the crowd because of her father’s position, she’d gone running back home.
Whiplash, anyone?
It was her father that financed her psychology practice and filled her client list when the banks wouldn’t loan her the money. Without a credit history, no one would take a chance on her.
Riordan was right – Daddy always did have her back.
She ran from Mitchell’s request to help Riordan, and ran from the all-consuming attraction she felt for him. Trusting her had been a huge step for Riordan.
She’d thrown it back in his face.
Natalie shook her head. She’d always considered herself a woman of integrity. Yet, betraying him had come easy.
Did she know herself at all?
How she wished she had his courage. He’d faced life-threatening odds…
Tears blurred the crowd before her now. What a waste that would’ve been. The world was a better, safer place with him in it, despite his opinion on the subject. He’d gone into his line of work for survival’s sake. His entire life had been built around simply surviving.
Her life had been built around self-indulgence.
The night with him at the D.I.R.E. office had been about self-indulgence. She’d wanted him and had given into her desires knowing it was wrong. Consideration for Riordan’s feelings had never entered her mind.
He thought she was too good for him.
The truth was, it was the other way around.
“Natalie.” Josie walked over and rubbed her back. “Why don’t you go home?”
Home or the office, she’d still miss the challenge of Riordan.
She smiled at her assistant. “I will. You know I like to leave after the crowd thins.”
Josie let out a bored sigh. “Yes, you never deviate from your routine. Not good if you want to discourage stalkers.”
That was another thing. Her routine. Obviously, she’d become predictable, mundane. Boring.
Why would someone as alive and on-the-go as Riordan be interested in someone like her?
“Maybe you should shake up things a bit, Nat. Be daring and leave five minutes early?”
Natalie swatted at her friend’s arm. “Get out of here.”
Josie grinned. “Or, you could cause a total ruckus and… gasp, call Riordan St. James.”
Natalie shook her head. He’d already shaken up her world and left her bereft.
“Have a good weekend, Josie.”
She sighed again. “Okay. Don’t listen to me. Enjoy your thrilling weekend alone with rocky road and Revolution episodes.”
Natalie whipped around. How did she know?
Josie smiled as she walked out with a wave.
Ugh. She was predictable.
That was it. He’d shaken up her world. He’d made her sit up and take notice, made her actually participate in life. Her heart beat a little faster, her mind worked a little harder in his proximity. He kept her on her toes, challenged her.
Thrilled her.
So, unlike Paul.
Paul had floated along with her, a partner in her mundane world. Looking back, she realized he’d never wanted to rock the boat. He’d never wanted to do anything to upset her or what they had when all along, he’d been on a crash course with death.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Could she hope Riordan had read her mind and texted her?
Pulling it out, the sender read Private.
It’s all your fault.
A chill raced down her spine as she frowned at the screen. Her mind went straight to Paul Warner and his suicide, the text forcing guilt and shame to the surface.
She typed in a reply. Who is this?
Nothing.
Maybe she should call her father and have him send over security. She’d always declined his offer for securit
y, even though many of his associates’ families utilized it. The last thing she wanted was a man in a suit following her everywhere.
Perhaps, she should call Mitchell. He’d know what to do, and she wouldn’t receive an overblown I-told-you-so. He may not answer, but she could at least give it a try.
Dialing his number, she waited for him to pick up. “Mitchell Jacobs.”
“Hi, Mitchell. It’s Natalie Meeks.”
“What can I do for you?” No small talk. Just straight to the point.
A commotion came from the outer office. She whipped around to stare at the open doorway. Someone was out there.
Rushing to her office door, she spoke into the phone. “I just received a disturbing text from a private number.”
Mitchell’s tone went from tolerant to alert. “What did it say?”
“It’s all your fault.” She wiped a shaky hand over her brow. “Should I be worried?”
John appeared in her doorway, winded and flushed. “Natalie.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
“Hold on, Mitchell.” She lowered the phone to her chin.
“There’s been a bomb threat. The building’s on fire.” He held out his hand to her. “Smoke is filling the lobby. We need to get out of here.”
Mitchell’s raised voice reached her ears. “Get out of there, Natalie. And, keep your phone with you. I’ll send help.”
The fire alarm sirens went off just as the smell of smoke reached her nose.
“I’ll take care of you, Natalie.” John tugged on her hand.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter 7
“Saint.”
Lowering his sparring gloves, Riordan stared at Tristan. He’d asked Jacobs to show him a few martial arts moves to go along with his enhancements. They’d been in the fitness room an hour now, his white t-shirt and black shorts soaked with sweat, his hair falling loose of its tie.
Riordan spoke into his armband. “Yeah, Mitchell.”
“It’s Natalie.”
Riordan’s heart dropped to his stomach before galloping out of control. He locked his jaw against the anger and worry that threatened.
“What?”
“There’s been a bomb threat on her office building – on her specifically.”
