Find: Project Xol

by Amabel Daniels

  “Ice it. Take the painkillers.” She shrugged. “I don’t think you need to be told how to watch for tearing the stitches.”

  I nodded, wiping my mouth.

  “If’n you bust them stitches, it ain’t the end of the world. But it’ll be a good week or so before you’ll start to heal inside out.”

  “I hope to take it easy.”

  Cassidy choked on a bite of food.

  Ha. I guessed that was funny. Take it easy? As if we could. We were merely waiting for the next move.

  “I see this ain’t your first time under a knife,” she commented.

  I stilled, my spoon held midway to my mouth. Swallowing, I lowered the utensil and maintained eye contact with her, careful to hide my irritation at her remark.

  “No spleen no more.” She quirked a brow and took a sip of water. “Most of your left kidney’s missing too.”

  “Correct.” I sat back, forgetting about food for a moment as I tolerated this invasion of privacy. She had my attention, all right. “I’ve had surgery before.” Wyatt’s dubious smirk pissed me off. Still, Sue had taken a leap of faith letting us in her home. I didn’t owe her my history and she wasn’t getting it, but I said, “I was attacked six years ago.”

  “Anything to do with what’s got you on the run now?” she asked. Not nosy, but perhaps simply curious.

  “No.”

  I didn’t miss Cassidy’s side-eye. That wasn’t entirely true. Ryan had tried to kill me in prison, and he’d gone double jeopardy today, attempting a second take on my life. But there was no connection that I could bridge to the different attacks.

  Bottom line, I had no clue how or why Ryan would be mixed up with Michael. And it was an enigma I wanted to solve sooner than later.

  As soon as we get in touch with Zero… I hoped he’d have some results from looking into that sadistic killer’s name. Hell, it had only been hours, but I was still optimistic about the hacker’s skills.

  “Sue, you mentioned you were waiting for a drug trial earlier.” Cassidy’s polite tone was a much-needed break from the growing tension over our meal. Wyatt had yet to tone down his glare for me. Sue seemed too curious about me. Cassidy likely wanted a way from having the attention on either of us at all.

  Sue sighed and set her napkin down. With her leathery, frail-looking hand on the coffee table, she explained. “I was diagnosed with lung cancer two years ago. You smoke?” When Cassidy shook her she gave me the beady eye. “You?”

  I shook my head.

  “Don’t ever touch those cancer sticks. Good Lord above I wish someone had beaten that sense into me years ago.”

  “And you’re interested in a new trial?”

  Sue snorted a laugh. “Well, ’course I’m interested. If’n we can pay the difference that insurance will cover, I’m more’n willing to try whatever I can. It’s from that big ol’ cor-por-a-tion.” She broke up the big word, like making it sound grander. “Day-some.”

  I schooled my face to remain calm and said, “Daysun?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Wyatt muttered.

  “What is this trial for?” Cassidy asked. When Sue frowned at her, as though she’d asked a dumb question, Cassidy inched forward in her seat and elaborated. “What exactly is this new drug supposed to do that other drugs can’t?” She licked her lips and ran her hand up and down her thigh. “Cancer research is such a challenging field, I imagine. Just think of all the possibilities out there.”

  I watched Sue and Wyatt, waiting for their reaction to Cassidy’s words. To them, it would sound so simple from a casually interested stranger. But between us, I knew she was desperate for more on this link to Daysun. Cancer trials? Was this evidence of some civilian reach into Project Xol?

  “We only care about the hope that’s out there,” Wyatt quipped.

  “We got some information and such from my oncologist. All’s we know is they developed a new drug that’s supposed to slow and reduce the spread of tumors.”

  Hindering a tumor growth. That didn’t quite measure up to what I’d seen from the only Project Xol patient I’d met. Michael had become immune to any harm. That was a leap and bound past simply minimizing a tumor. There was so much more to this than I bet I’d ever want to know.

  How could Daysun—whoever was in charge of Michael—make a jump from staggering tumor growth to making a super-human?

  Chapter Five

  Cassidy

  After we ate dinner—oh, sorry, Sue, supper—Wyatt urged his mom to go upstairs and relax. I understood that there wasn’t any room for us in the one-bedroom apartment. She took the single bed and the living room was basically Wyatt’s for sleeping. Before they’d called it a night, they helped to push the chairs in the waiting room together and buffer a makeshift mattress with the blankets and pillows they could spare.

  It looked like a backache in the making, but I wasn’t picky. Only grateful.

  “You sure this is all right for y’all?” she’d asked again before climbing the stairs.

  “More than fine, ma’am,” Luke replied.

  “And you best keep that leg up. You hear?”

  He nodded.

  “We really appreciate it,” I said again.

  Sue took my hand in both of hers and squeezed them. “I know, hon. I know. Y’all holler upstairs if y’all need something, all right now?”

  And then they left.

  “Can you prop a couple of the pillows behind me?” Luke asked once the door shut upstairs. “Please?”

  I almost smiled at his afterthought of please. What a difference in the guy. At first, he’d been just so damn gruff. After witnessing what his former nemesis was capable of, I could understand his hardy mood for the world.

  “Of course.”

  There weren’t many available, but we could share. We had already everywhere else we’d slept.

  “Hey, at least this is an improvement from squishing ourselves in the car again.”

  I tossed my head, heeding his comment. True. As I recalled that uncomfortable night of sleep, it was difficult to place it as last night. The previous twenty-four hours were surreal. Horrific. Nothing a normal person like me should have to suffer.

  But how can I call anything about my life normal anymore?

  “Hey.” Luke’s voice was soft. Tender, even.

  I had to do a better job of masking it all.

  “Come here,” he said, holding an arm out for me to join him on the “bed.”

  “Is that a good position?” I fluffed the pillows, shoving them behind him to ensure he had support. “Do you want me to find another—” My breath shot out with an umph as he gripped my waist and hoisted me from where I stood until I was lying next to him.

  Pressed against his hard, hot length, all solid muscles and tight skin, I stilled. For a moment, I simply melted into his embrace, lying at his side with my arm over his stomach. I knocked my head down to his shoulder, accepting it as my pillow. I didn’t give a damn about his highhandedness, silencing me and maneuvering me where he pleased. Reclined with him like this was exactly where I wanted to be and I took the peace it offered. My anchor.

  “Gunshot to the thigh aside, I’d say your shoulder must be feeling a lot better to toss me around like that.”

  His chest lifted as though he fought a laugh. I snuggled in closer.

  “You okay, Cass?”

  Cass. His nickname for me. Cassie was the go-to most people used, but I liked his shortening. Direct. Firm. Like the man himself.

  “I keep thinking I’ll turn around and he’ll be right there.” My eyes watered as I surrendered. For the first time since we’d run from Dallas, I let myself admit the fear. It couldn’t stay bottled forever.

  He pressed a kiss to my hair and I didn’t care that my tears fell onto his no-clean, bare skin. Earlier, after dinner, he’d showered in the exam room that had a detachable hose at the industrial sink, basically using the entire room as a shower stall since the floor was designed for easy drainage. I think Sue explained
it was for cleaning off large dogs, but it worked. As I let my anguish pool on his skin, I gulped in sobbing heaves of air scented with his body wash and pure man.

  “Let it all out,” he murmured.

  And I did. I wasn’t even sure what exactly I cried for. The crash from running too-high on panic. The guilt that I’d shot at someone, even if it was for self-defense. The lingering pain that still ebbed and flowed throughout my battered body.

  At least I was quiet, softly weeping on his chest. His strong arm remained locked around me, his free hand rubbing up and down my arm. The rough strokes of his calloused skin soothed me, giving me something to hang on to and ground myself on.

  “What if he is?” I finally asked.

  If it weren’t for him still caressing my arm, I would’ve thought he’d fallen asleep. He was that still.

  “What if he is right there? What if he comes after us again?”

  I wasn’t in top shape to begin with, even less so now. Luke could hobble at best. And we had the Project Xol data in our possession. Having that box of zip drives made me feel as even more of a target.

  “I don’t think he can.”

  I leaned up to peer at him in the darkness of the waiting room. Wyatt had shuttered the blinds to the windows but faint light from a streetlight filtered in.

  With a gentle gaze, he stared back at me. As he reached up to swipe the wetness from my cheeks, he said, “He’s dead.”

  “But…”

  He lowered his hand and sighed. “He has to be dead.”

  “We thought he was one time. Fool me once…”

  “I can’t see how he’d survive.”

  “I looked up cast-iron skillet injuries.”

  His eyebrows jumped up. “When?”

  “When you were cozying up with that girl in the lab. Darla somebody.”

  “Deana.”

  I pressed my lips together and glared. Really? Was he going to hang on to that memory?

  “Whose name does not matter.” His arm pulled me closer but I stopped myself from falling on him. I pressed my hand to his chest and was excited at how fast his heart beat. Couple that with the intensity of his gaze on me…

  No. No more…whatever desire was growing between us. I had a point to make. “Whatever. I looked it up. There is no way he could have lived through a head trauma with that.”

  “But he did.”

  I dropped my jaw to give him a duh smirk. “No shit. A normal person wouldn’t have survived that. Not without side effects at least.”

  “I get that.”

  “So believing gunshots to the chest are mortal wounds isn’t logical either. Not for him. Who—whatever he is.”

  “Then…” He shook his head, more to himself than arguing with me. “Then we should get a good night of sleep before we’re on the lookout for him again. If he knows you have the data, it’s only going to make him try to find it even harder.”

  Defeat. That was what he sounded like. And it didn’t sit well with me. While I’d already rationalized the danger of having the data with us, I now thought ahead. To the if and when where we wouldn’t have the information on those zip drives in our hands. Rosa had asked me to retrieve that data for her, but if I could locate her, wouldn’t me delivering it to her just be a lethal way of passing the buck?

  It was with those ugly worries that I tried to fall asleep. If not for Luke holding me, resuming his slow strokes up and down my arm, I doubted I ever would have gotten rest.

  I woke to find the “bed” empty. Hard breaths sounded in the room as I sat up. Darkness still prevailed so it couldn’t be late.

  Is he— I jerked up to survey the room.

  No. He wasn’t down there doing his crunches or push-ups. Instead, he was pacing back and forth, probably trying to gain strength in his healing leg.

  “Don’t overdo it.”

  “I won’t.”

  We’ll see about that. It was too early to think I could boss him around. And despite how much more…familiar we were letting ourselves become with one another, he wasn’t mine to sass around.

  I sat there, savoring the peacefulness and warmth of the blankets and sort-of bed. Sliding my feet up, I hugged my knees to my chest. My skin pulled at the bandages and stitches Sue had sewn into my arm. Tilting my face, I eyed the red flesh, grateful there wasn’t any more bleeding or discharge.

  While I took this quiet morning as a gift, I noticed Luke couldn’t. His hobbling steps carried his huge, strong body back and forth the waiting room. His scowl was out of place. Like he was worried, more so than what I’d expect first thing upon waking. Our situation wasn’t rosy, but no one was breathing down our necks at the moment.

  “You okay?”

  He tossed his less-wounded shoulder up. I couldn’t gauge his expression as he’d pivoted back away again. I wasn’t blind. His nervous energy radiated from his tense muscles and determined, albeit limping, gait.

  “Luke?” I lowered my arms, pushing to stand.

  “It’s…nothing.”

  “Bullshit.” He was working something out in his head. He might not be mine to boss around but we were partners in this mess. No secrets.

  “Just a gut feeling,” he said, waving his hand to dismiss me or maybe himself. Still, he paced. I stood, reaching for my hoodie. The tile floor chilled my bare feet and I quickened to my shoes and socks. A bitter laugh whispered out. Hey. One night that I’d felt safe enough to not sleep with my footwear on for a fast getaway.

  “Which means it’s something,” I said, watching him as he walked, not making eye contact. He didn’t have a nightmare to simmer down from. We’d stayed together in that “bed” all night until he’d risen to pace.

  “But I don’t know what it is.” He scoffed. “Don’t get on my case about being wired. Not after yesterday.”

  I wasn’t about to pry at him and initiate some emo chat. But I trusted him. If he had reason to get antsy and wanting to move, then it had to be for a good reason.

  “I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

  He didn’t reply.

  I grabbed my toothbrush and paste from the backpack and made my way to the small restroom in the vet clinic. It was toward the rear of the narrow building, next to Dr. Heyer’s office. The door was cracked open, multicolored lights shining into the dim hallway. A TV. Odd. If Wyatt or Sue wanted to watch a show, wouldn’t they do it upstairs?

  I tiptoed closer, peeking through the opening to the office.

  And there I was.

  The semi-decent photo from my driver’s license broadcast on the small flat-screen monitor in the corner of the room. The volume was muted but the ticker at the bottom of the news channel’s report told me enough.

  Suspect Identified In Double Homicide of Dallas Cops.

  My muscles locked and I fisted my hands. I couldn’t breathe, the air stalling in my lungs. Heart racing, I tried to reconcile what I saw to what I knew.

  No. No, no, no, no.

  “Yeah. My mom doesn’t know. She sleeps in and hasn’t seen the news.” Wyatt’s low tone was clear enough for me to hear even though he was obviously whispering. “I’ll keep her upstairs until you send a unit.”

  Another pause as he listened to whatever someone said on the phone he’d spoken into. I stepped forward, working my mouth, readying to scream at him.

  “I’m sure it’s her. She didn’t tell me much, but it’s her. She’s here.”

  I squinted, watching the footage on the screen. An aerial shot of the library, the entrance cluttered with light-flashing EMT vehicles. Next, a clip of the crime scene, that bloodied corner of the library with books still fallen haphazardly over the carpet. Now two smiling faces, labeled as the two guards—no. They were actually cops.

  Fuck.

  Then my face again, along with my height, weight, name, and last known location. A hotline number read at the bottom, requesting people to tip us off to the cops.

  “What kind of a reward is there for this?” Wyatt crouched forward toward th
e desk, hiding his face more from my view at the door. “Yeah. I know. We’re safe for now. They haven’t seen the news yet.” Another pause as he huffed. “Yeah. I know. We’ll stay upstairs until help arrives. I just want to know what the reward—”

  He jerked back, likely frustrated at the dispatcher deflecting from talking about the reward.

  The fucker. I should have known I couldn’t trust him. But I had.

  I clenched my teeth until my jaw hurt.

  This asshole.

  Just for money. Maybe he was motivated for more cash to help Sue with her fight against cancer.

  But he’d given his word. No. Sue had, not him.

  “How soon can you be here?”

  I watched the footage loop over again, the same images. No mention of Luke. Nothing about Michael or Ryan, either. So it was only me who was wanted.

  “Yeah, I’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.” Wyatt sat all the way up and began to pivot to the door. “She’s still asleep—”

  As he turned to face me, I nudged the door the rest of the way open. Survivalist rage erupted and I didn’t even bother to find glee in his shock.

  At seeing me eavesdropping on him—not asleep—his jaw dropped open. His eyes widened and a squeak of a protest left his mouth. He lowered his hand, likely not realizing he was pulling the phone from his ear.

  I lunged for him. The only advantage I had was my height—for the first time ever. With him sitting down, I had the upper hand to overtake him. He pushed to stand, but he’d cornered himself in here, in the chair as it slid on its wheels to the back of the office.

  He cried out. “Don’t—”

  I punched him in the jaw. I didn’t know how to aim a hit, but I wanted to beat his face out of sight. His arms came up against my chest as I rained another strike at his head. “You asshole.”

  He grunted, shoving me partly off him but I didn’t give him a chance to get to his feet. I smashed my knuckles into his chin and his head jerked back.

  “Cassie!”

  Luke yelled as his arms snaked around me. He hauled me back and I flailed, not done with this punk who’d betrayed us. Over the din of my blood rushing in my ears, I heard the clatter of something stomping down the stairs.