Unstoppable

by Long, Heather

  “Serious.” He had no reason to lie at this point. “Miss Archer…or do you prefer your rank rather than the other honorific?” Some people could be picky.

  “Just call me Joss. I figure at this point, we should be on a first name basis.” A faint smile creased her lips. “Especially since you don’t appear to have a last name.”

  “Surnames indicate a knowledge of parentage and familial lines. I was orphaned, and I had neither accessible to me.” Discussing his childhood didn’t always agree with him, so he elected to make coffee. It alleviated his need for action while addressing the itching sensation between his shoulder blades.

  At some point, Joss would try to take him out. It was not in her nature to be a prisoner without seeking escape. He would have to thwart the effort. The attack, coupled with his response, would likely injure her. The thought didn’t sit well with him.

  “So, you have daddy issues. You wouldn’t be the first guy I know who didn’t have a clue about his father.” Was that a grudging measure of sympathy in her voice? “Of course, none of those men tried to hold me hostage.”

  “Hostage implies we require something for your release or seek to gain something for your incarceration.” The moment the words left his mouth he regretted them.

  Joss leapt on them like the fierce tiger she was. “Oh, so you’re just holding me for shits and giggles, is that it?”

  “Not precisely. I brought you here for treatment and questioning. I had hoped to do it—how would you say?—the easy way? Unfortunately, we had to do it the hard way.” The single cup coffee maker brewed his double strong Arabic blend, and he inhaled the heady aroma. The perfect aromatherapy for him. Coffee had been a luxury item his crèche couldn’t afford.

  One true perk of their time travel mission—he had access to all the coffee he wanted.

  “Let’s pretend we’re doing this the easy way, what do you want?”

  Turning, he faced her and took a drink of his coffee. The second action eased the stress the first action generated.

  “Answers.”

  “With regard to?” Her nostrils flared as he lifted his coffee cup again. However, he’d offered her food and drink. If she wanted coffee, she could ask.

  The petulant thought amused him… Drake?

  Not now, Simon. I have her talking to me. The mental touch withdrew. If it had been important, Simon would have pressed the issue. “With regard to a missing persons case—two missing persons, actually. They are being held against their will and without legal cause or warrant.” The language felt foreign, but everyone agreed it had been the way to approach the topic of Michael and Rex.

  “Uh huh.” Her lack of denial wasn’t an admission of guilt. “Why do you think I know anything about a missing persons case?”

  Time to put some cards on the table. “Because the facility you guard is capable of housing—how did you phrase it? Enhanced individuals. The level of security far exceeds a standard operation, otherwise.”

  Not even a flicker of change to her expression. “We don’t comment on standard security operations.”

  “I’m not a reporter.” Though he had to give her credit for trying.

  “Then what are you?”

  Last set of cards to put on the table. “I’m from the future.”

  * * *

  She waited a beat for the punch line. When his sober expression didn’t change one iota, she raised her eyebrows. “Okay, Marty McFly, if you’re a time traveler, where do you come from? And where the hell is my hover board?”

  “On April 2, 2115, I accepted an assignment to a specialized team which would be transported more than a century into the past in order to eliminate a global threat.” The somber delivery didn’t do much to assure her he was more than a tad insane. A shame, really. The man was gorgeous, with his near onyx skin tone, highlighted by the gold tattoo on his face and oh-so earnest eyes. Real. Fucking. Pity.

  “Okay.” Every muscle in her body remained sore, but the shower and food had helped. Movement helped more. She needed to loosen up. If she stood any chance of taking him out and making it to the door, she needed to be limber.

  Their barracks room didn’t offer a great deal in the way of space, but she could make do. It also gave her time to assess his character and perhaps even make him an ally. If all she could do was lower his guard, it could prove useful to her cause.

  “You still don’t believe me.” The statement carried no judgment, but the stab of recrimination still made itself known in her gut. “I understand, it is a difficult tale to swallow.”

  “Dude, the last time someone went back in time more than a century, it pissed off a lot of monkeys.” She kept moving, short steps, easing her weight from her heels to the balls of her feet and forcing her calves to stretch and relax. In the meanwhile, she gripped an elbow and hugged one arm to her in order to ease the cramp in her biceps. “Then again, there was the one with the enhanced chick who could scroll through time with the flick of her fingers. She went all the way back to see the earliest monkey version of man—oddly named after her, but I think that was the point of the metaphor. I don’t know. That shit gives me a headache.”

  Science fiction and fantasy weren’t her forte. She enjoyed a good escape as much as the next person. Her preferences fell more toward shoot ‘em ups and explosions. That or cooking shows.

  She was complicated.

  “I’m unfamiliar with these events, but I gather from your tone you’re referring to films or other forms of self-aggrandizing entertainment in which humanity renders itself the center of time and space, and man may master his fate.”

  “Where were you when I was in college? Excellent draft thesis statement.” Pivot, walk five steps, lengthening her stride bit by bit. The pull along her hips and glutes burned with every extension. If anyone ever tried to tell her that sitting on one’s ass for hours every day didn’t have physical drawbacks, she’d zip tie them to a chair.

  The tension in her lower back pinched viciously every time she twisted to change direction. A part of her wanted to hobble, or maybe even ask for something as mild as some ibuprofen. The rest of her though, maintained her steadfast and stubborn refusal to give in.

  “Likely laying low,” Drake answered, and it took her a beat to even remember that she had asked a question. Nothing in his manner betrayed the joke. He truly believed what he was saying. How hard would it be to brainwash someone with his near academic insights? Did a smart brain fall as swiftly or as thoroughly as the average man? “The circular nature of this argument will not help either of us achieve our individual goals of information for me and freedom for you.”

  “Fair enough.” Needing a break from the sweat inducing motion, she leaned against one corner of the bunks and folded her arms. The cool metal helped to ground her while at the same time easing the temperature disparity. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I will be explicit in my honesty. I will explain to you everything I know about the process that brought us to this century. You will listen with an open mind and hold your questions until I finish. Are these terms agreeable to you?”

  “You had me until you hit the open mind part.” Surprisingly easy to admit the truth, despite the fact that her tactical training suggested she should agree. The psychology of allying herself with him increased the possibility of her escape.

  “Why only that part?” He took another sip of his coffee, and her nostrils flared at the rich scent of the black brew. The desire for a cup of her own won out over her need to keep her distance.

  Pushing away from the bunk, she crossed the narrow space to where the single cup coffeemaker waited like a taunt of all things wonderfully caffeinated. He didn’t respond to her approach except to simply watch her. Waving a hand, she motioned him aside. “Excuse me. I need coffee if you insist on acting like the idea of time travel is remotely normal.”

  Inclining his head a fraction as though acquiescing, Drake took a couple of steps to the left. More than enough space to give her fu
ll access to the coffee maker, single cup pods, and the clean mugs, while not going far enough out of the way that she couldn’t feel the weight of him filling in all the space around her.

  “Time travel is not normal, not even where I am from.” The comment hardly offered her any comfort. “I have no idea how it all worked. I’m not a scientist. I went through the procedure and survived it. Twenty men went in. Five came out.”

  The last gave her pause. “A procedure with a one in four survival rate? Who volunteers for that?”

  “Men with nothing to lose.” The emptiness in his tone silenced her burgeoning sarcasm. A familiar ache spread through her abdomen. When it came to battles, one always accepted the possibility of loss. Even when their commanding officers sent them into the field, they had percentages of acceptable loss, which did little to comfort anyone, least of all those entering the theatre of war.

  The coffee finished brewing, and she wrapped her hand around the mug, warming the sudden chill overtaking her. “I don’t believe in any win scenarios, which means I don’t believe in having nothing to lose.”

  “It appears hope is a quirk of your generation.” Drake shared the observation as though it were something of wonder to him. “Perhaps that is as it should be. You have not faced the hopelessness of certain defeat, of piling bodies like cordwood, of realizing a one in four chance are the best odds you’ve had in your whole life.”

  “Maybe.” Was she really agreeing with him? Worse, was she buying into the delusion? The flicker of uncertainty within her began to grow in strength. “I’ve trained for war. I’ve reconditioned myself for peace time. I’ve had some experience in all of these, and all the training in the world cannot prepare you for how you respond in the heat of the moment.”

  “Agreed.” His gaze struck hers and that spark of uncertainty shone on a seed of unity. Entirely unexpected, yet at the same time, she could see this big man on the field of battle. He’d be a force to be reckoned with. “Until they pry life from my cold, dead fingers, I also do not believe in surrendering. The chance to prevent the hell we knew from ever happening? What would you risk if you could change events so the wars you fought in didn’t occur? If you could mitigate the lives lost with a new path?”

  “I’d question my sanity.”

  A deep chuckle escaped him. The vibration of the rich masculine chuckle filled the room and resonated within her. “Perhaps, but humor me, if you would be so kind. If you could change something horrible from having ever happened, would you risk anything for the lives of the many?”

  Yes, she was absolutely humoring the speculative question and decided against examining her motives for doing so too closely. “To be honest, most good people would say yes automatically. If I could go back to the early 1930s and put a bullet in Hitler before he rose to power? Before he inspired a beleaguered nation with promises of national pride that turned it into an international nightmare? Of course I would. Except, if I did that, what else would I change? Not to mention, haven’t you ever read H.G. Wells’ Time Machine?”

  “What does a novel have to do with your argument?”

  “Well, not much, as I didn’t read the book, but I did see one of the movies, and the point is that the traveler created a time machine after his fiancée was killed. He wanted to travel back in time to prevent her death. Every attempt failed. Every time. He could go millions of years into the future, but he couldn’t save his fiancée because her death was the catalyst for the time machine itself.” At least as far as she could recall from the film. It had been a while, and she’d definitely slept since then. “Basically, if all the circumstances you endured led to the creation of a time travel device, you coming back in time may not be able to prevent that future because your very presence ensures it had to have happened.”

  Drake frowned. “Unless by traveling through time, we are now outside of the stream of events.”

  “That’s arguing quantum theory.” This part she remembered from the comic books really well. “Which basically means every action has an equal and opposite reaction, and our world is the product of a million different choices made each day. Each time one of those choices is changed, then a new universe is spun off, until you have infinite universes with infinite worlds and infinite changes.”

  “Are you sure you’re a soldier?” The question halted her enthusiasm, and Joss glared at him.

  “Don’t ever question my service.”

  “I’m not, I swear. You are theorizing possibilities with regard to a simple question.”

  Rubbing a hand over her face, she tried to refrain from the laughter desperate to escape, but it came out more a half-sob, half-chuckle. “Who could ever think time travel is simple? Seriously, if you wanted to spin some story to get me on your side, this sci-fi farce was not the way to go.”

  “If I were only telling you a story, perhaps. What I am doing is much more. I’m telling you the truth. I need you to believe me.” Earnestness reflected in his intense gaze.

  “Why?” The ten-thousand-dollar question underscoring every piece of their interaction. “Why is it so damn important that I believe you?”

  “Because two of my teammates were taken by the people who employ you. It is my belief they are being housed at the facility you were guarding.” Straightening, Drake took a step toward her and, though his vast shoulders and towering stature should dwarf her, she experienced no sense of threat from his nearness. “Several rooms within are heavily shielded, and we cannot scan for them.”

  “Let me guess, you want me to violate my contract, possibly the law and break them out for you?” They were once more back on the crazy train.

  “I only require confirmation of their presence. Proof, then we will handle their extraction.”

  He was insane.

  “Even if I believed you, and even if I was willing to participate in breaking the law to go on this fool’s errand for you, you cannot possibly penetrate the security on the research facility without causing serious bodily harm to people I work with day in and day out. People I owe a hell of a lot more allegiance to than I do to you. So no, Mr. McFly. We’re not doing this.”

  Drake sighed, his disappointment palpable. “Then we do it the hard way.”

  Yeah, somehow those words worried her more than everything else he’d said.

  Chapter 7

  Drake double checked the zip ties on her wrists before leading her from the bunker. Disappointment made a brief appearance in her expression before her jaw tightened and her eyes went blank. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d betrayed her on some level. Shaking off the uncomfortable sensation, he squinted at the washed out sunshine as he guided her toward the main house.

  Simon stood just outside the main doors, arms folded and eyes narrowed. This wasn’t the plan.

  I’m aware. However, I do not believe this woman is our enemy. Stubborn? Yes. Intelligent? Without a doubt. But also, honorable and forthright in her commitment to her tasks and the people she works with. She will not betray them easily if at all.

  Then I scan her. The closer they came, the more serious Simon’s expression appeared. After years of serving together, Drake didn’t mistake the sober nature of his facial features for a reflection of his mood.

  Not yet. The scan would net them what she knew, but not her cooperation or her skills. It could also do long-term damage to her mind if she resisted, which—based on all of her personality traits—she most certainly would. We need her assistance, not to make her a victim.

  Only a slight nod of his head revealed Simon’s agreement with him.

  “This another one of your time traveler buddies?” The sharpness edging each of Joss’ words threatened to cut him.

  Time traveler buddies?

  At Simon’s inquiry, Drake resisted a sheepish smile. I attempted truth. To Joss, however, all he said was, “This is Simon. He is one of my brothers. We’re going to see the patients. Will you ask Ilsa to join us?”

  Interesting tactic. Simon nodded, then opened the
door for them to enter. Awareness of Joss’ skills had Drake avoiding passing too close to the telepath. The last thing he needed was for Joss to cause injury. At the moment, they had only a narrow window of time in which to act, meaning he had to make a choice soon.

  The last thing he wanted, the very last thing, was for Joss to become a victim in the midst of all of this. Unfortunately, no one ever asked him what he wanted. Correction—the last time someone asked him that question, they’d asked him if he wanted to save the world.

  Stupid man that he’d been, he had said yes.

  Inside the building, Joss said nothing. She followed him through the white hallway up and up the stairs. They’d stationed their current patients in three different rooms. The goal was to allow them time to recover as well as monitoring them for any alterations Rex labs had done. Easier said than done, or at least so Ilsa always reminded them.

  The doctor appeared from the opposite end of the hallway just as they arrived at the first door. Alone, but Drake had no doubt Garrett lurked somewhere nearby. Ilsa wore her surgical scrubs and mask.

  “Doctor.”

  “Drake.” A question lurked within her green eyes, one Drake was not ready to answer just yet.

  “Interesting.” Joss glanced from him to the doctor then back again.

  “What is interesting?”

  Joss smiled, looking far more pleased with herself than a bound woman should. “You don’t care that I’ve seen you. The guy downstairs, he didn’t care that I saw him.” She gestured with her chin toward Ilsa. “The doctor over there? You don’t want me to know who she is.”

  Drake didn’t care, but she didn’t need to know that. Instead, he addressed the elephant in the room—the reason he’d brought her into the main house to begin with. “Doctor, can you please tell Miss Archer what she can expect to see in the next room?”

  Ilsa nodded once. “Patient A is a twenty-eight-year-old Caucasian male. Blood tests confirm he has been exposed to a number of toxins and carcinogens at increasing levels for the past several months. To the best of our knowledge, he has spent at least ten months in the care and keeping of R.E.X. labs experimental wing.” Opening the door, Ilsa preceded them into darkened hospital room. The lights had all been muted, turned down to their lowest setting, and all the windows had been covered.