by Eve Langlais
At all.
About anyone.
Especially not a little bit of a woman with attitude who was dying. Surely there was a mistake in there somewhere.
However, Chimera had confirmed it not even an hour ago when he handed Jett the thermos.
“I heard you were talking to Cerberus about the nurse.” A reminder that Cerberus, no matter how affable, owed his allegiance to one person.
“I was curious,” Jett had replied, hedging.
“You were looking for a second opinion. But there’s only one prognosis in this case. She’s terminal.”
As in no fucking hope—if she were anywhere else. “I’ve seen you cure cancer.” Jett spoke boldly.
“I have. But you and I both know those I’ve saved are special cases.” As in soldiers who, in the service of their country, agreed to become lab rats. The nurse, however, fell into the civilian category. They were a little harder to control, even with iron-clad contracts.
“So you don’t tell her you’re doing it.” He shook the thermos. “Just like you didn’t tell her what’s in this.”
“That formula has been patented and bought by the American government. It’s legal. But my other cures…”
The other cures in this place weren’t always a boon. Some had side effects. Terrible side effects. It was why Jett said no when he was offered a chance to try some of the lighter doses.
“She’s dying. I’m sure she’d prefer a chance over nothing.”
“I’m sure she would, too, but it won’t be because I’m handing it to her.”
“Then why tease her?” Jett couldn’t get out of his mind that vial of fluid. The one Chimera dangled, taunting the nurse with it. Would Chimera be considered culpable if the woman happened to treat herself?
Jett had to wonder if that was the end plan given the doctor invited her to act as his personal assistant. Despite the fact there was nothing wrong with Kyle.
None of his business. Just like those kept beyond Chimera’s lab in those cages were none of his business. In every venture there would be failures.
His job was to track them if they escaped.
Speaking of, the night crew had nabbed yet another of the missing patients. For some reason, they’d begun to return, hiding in the nearby forest. Watching. Always watching.
For what? He kind of wanted to find out. Because, by his count, there were at least a half-dozen or so still at large. Maybe more if Chimera neglected to tell him of other escapees.
Why did they linger nearby? Why now after all this time?
Was it any wonder he asked for a real handgun and not this tranquilizer bullshit? The reply? “No. I want them brought in alive.” Never mind those who died in the attempt. Their lives weren’t as valuable as Chimera’s pet projects.
After dropping off the thermos—clenching his fists to avoid the temptation Becky posed with her full, pouty lips and tousled hair—he went to visit the secret room beyond Chimera’s lab. Firstly, because Chimera ordered him to, and secondly, because he had to see for himself. See the thing in the cage, a monster instead of the man he once knew.
Yes, monster, and Jett knew about them. One of the few in this place aware of the secrets—and failures. Not all guards had a free pass to go anywhere they liked. Jett had proven himself loyal. Proven he’d do anything to keep company secrets.
Anything but take the various remedies himself. He had no interest in being more than human. Then again, he’d not suffered like some of those who’d agreed.
People like Jorge, a man he’d met during his own basic training.
Left for dead on the battlefield, the same gunfight that also damaged Chimera’s star patient, Luke, Jorge had only two options: Die because his wounds were so grievous or say yes to a chance. A chance to not only live but become more than he was.
While Luke was an example of what a man could become—stronger, faster, and more dangerous than any loaded weapon—Jorge became the poster child for side effects. And those unfortunate quirks kept multiplying.
Jorge should have run when he had the chance. He was one of those who’d escaped. Then foolishly returned.
Had he missed the safety of his cage?
Jett entered the lab, ignoring the various beakers and vials, the steady hum of the machinery familiar. He strode past it all—even the fridge with that taunting serum that could save a certain nurse—right to a door that yielded to his palm print. He entered that secret room, full of cages, only one of them occupied.
The first sight of Jorge brought a low whistle.
“Well. Well. I always knew you were a pig, but this…” Jett shook his head. “Damn.”
A baleful glare met his. The man, once a thick Mediterranean fellow with olive skin and dark hair, now something else. The last time Jett had seen him was a few months ago before his escape. His appearance had changed since then.
“Better a pig than a boot licker,” was the gruff reply. The words thick as they emerged from a mouth no longer human shaped. The jaw was elongated, and the nose had flattened. The tusks provided an interesting accessory jutting from either cheek.
“It’s not boot licking but following orders. Orders that pay me very well.”
“You’re a traitor.”
Jett uttered a low chuckle. “I’m the traitor? I seem to remember someone turning tail and running rather than sticking by his brothers.” It was why Jett had shot Jorge in the leg during a military operation. He had no use for cowards.
“You’re a fucking psycho.”
“Thank you.” The compliment earned Jorge a smile. “Now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way, why are you here?”
“Because some assholes put me in a cage.” The exclamation finished on a growl.
“Those assholes, as you call them, wouldn’t have caught you if you’d kept on hiding in the mountains. Yet you returned. Why?”
A sneer pulled part of Jorge’s snout. “Why do you think? Revenge.”
“Revenge for what? You agreed to this.” Jett swept a hand to encompass the room around them.
“I agreed because I was scared, and I thought I had no other choice.” The shattered spine and the organs failing hadn’t left much of an option.
“You had no other choice. It’s only because of this clinic you’re alive. They gave you a second chance,” Jett remarked. “Their treatment is why you’re even walking again.”
“He made me into a monster!” Jorge grabbed the bars, the hiss of sizzling flesh lasting a moment before he tore them free.
“A monster because you ran away before he could fix you.” Not the entire truth. Chimera didn’t care about the man, only the result.
“Damned right I ran. And I’ll escape again. And again, until I tell the fucking world what he’s doing here. What you are all doing. You’ll pay.” Spittle flew as Jorge got riled.
“Bullshit.” Jett leaned closer. “You escaped. You could have done that. But you didn’t. You came back. Why?”
Eyes glowing with malice fixed Jett. “Because I’m hungry. So very, very hungry… And there’s only one thing I want to eat.” The man/beast slammed into the bars over and over, shoving his arm through, reaching for Jett.
He stood out of reach, doing his best not to react to the singeing flesh. He brought his walkie-talkie to his lips and pressed the button. “He’s gone feral.”
The channel only went to one person. It took a moment before Chimera replied. “We need some fresh samples. Put him on ice.”
Jorge had just run out of second chances.
Jett shook his head as he neared the flailing arms. “You should have kept running.” He whipped out a baton and slammed it on a protruding wrist. Jorge screamed, more rage than pain. Jett deactivated the current running through the bars and stepped even closer.
Jorge stood just out of reach and glared balefully at him. “You’re as evil as them.”
“Yes.” Jett had no doubt of his guilt. But if Jorge thought to invoke pity or remorse, then he’d o
bviously not read the psychiatric reports.
Jett reached through the bars, only to have Jorge back out of reach.
“Are you really going to make this difficult?”
“I don’t want to die,” Jorge whimpered. The big, strong monster gone, in his place a man who realized he might have fucked up.
“Then you should have thought of that before you came back.” Jett unlatched the cage door and let it swing open. He held himself braced in case Jorge tried to rush him.
“Don’t do this. Let me go. Please.” Jorge dropped to his knees, head bowed.
Begging. How pathetic. And yet…a tiny part of him hesitated. The man hadn’t asked to become this thing. Not asked to be put in a cage.
Jorge dove at him, slamming into Jett’s thighs, throwing him into the bars of the cage. This wasn’t his first rodeo. Jorge snapped and snarled, his teeth locking on flesh covered in fabric. A hard chomp that would leave a bruise.
Jett didn’t need to use his teeth. The knife sliced across the other man’s jugular. The arterial spray was an unfortunately messy side effect.
Jorge shoved away from Jett, putting a hand to his neck, trying to stem the arterial blood. But Jett had cut deep.
He stepped out of the cage and grabbed some paper towels to mop at the wetness coating him. He’d have to shower before he showed his face in the public areas. Behind him, he heard crashing and thumping. The dying throes of a coward.
Jett finished mopping his face and turned to look at the body lying on the floor. The eyes wide open and staring. He changed the channel on his walkie-talkie before barking, “Travis and Burke.”
“Yeah?” was the reply.
“I’ve got a subject that needs to be iced, asap.” The doctors hated it when bodies were left sitting and began to decay. They also preferred bodies that bled out rather than those drugged to death or killed with a bullet to the head. It made for more thorough autopsies. When a subject stopped being useful alive, they served in death.
Being the executioner didn’t usually bother Jett, but as he watched them sluice down the cage, the red water swirling down the drain in the floor, he couldn’t help but think of Red.
With cancer riddling her body, soon she, too, would stare with eyes wide open. A piece of meat for scientists to study.
And he didn’t like the thought one single bit. But getting involved? Trying to save her?
He could do it. Break into that special vault of remedies. The thing was, would that end up being a cure or a curse?
Chapter Eleven
Two days after the incident, a peek in the mirror showed the bruises on her throat a sickly yellow. Better than expected, but still a stark reminder of what happened.
A knock at the door shattered the reverie. Opening the door revealed Jett, which wasn’t entirely surprising given he’d dropped off another thermos last night. A visit that lasted all of two seconds with him shoving it at her, snapping a gruff, “Drink it.” Then he took off.
So of course, she yodeled after him, “Run, run as fast as you can…” No point in finishing the rhyme. He was out of sight, her last view of him being the index finger raised over his shoulder.
Had to admit she didn’t mind the rear view of him. Those combat pants hugged his ass in a mighty fine way. She’d have to make sure to picture it later in the shower. Without the scowl he currently sported.
He stood in the doorframe, hands empty, looking as surly as ever. “Why aren’t you ready?” he barked.
She tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear and peeked down at her garb. A pajama set covered in cute, cuddly kitties. Pink ones of course. Poor Jett. It was the equivalent of a cross to a vampire.
“Good morning to you, too.”
He glared.
Only one thing to do.
Smile.
“Do you always scowl this early in the morning?”
“You aren’t dressed.”
Her lips twitched. “Shouldn’t an undressed woman in the morning be a reason not to scowl?”
“I always have a reason.”
“Not this morning you don’t.” She whirled from the door. “You accused me of not being ready. Problem is you never told me to be ready or what time. So this is entirely your fault.”
“My fault?” The incredulous note had her smiling as she stood facing away.
“It is, and you were mean about it. I won’t have it.” She whirled and crossed her arms under her breasts. It had the effect of shoving them a little higher and farther out of her shirt. Wasn’t her fault the nipples were hard. The blame for that also resided with him.
He didn’t have to stare, but she enjoyed it. For a few seconds at least, then she said, “Eyes here.” She snapped her fingers, and his shocked gaze met hers. His cheeks turned a shade darker, and she’d never seen anything sexier.
Especially when he mumbled, “Can’t blame a guy for staring if you’re going to be wearing practically nothing.”
“I will blame him since he showed up at an ungodly hour. And not only did you not bring me coffee, you couldn’t even fake a smile.”
“Are you still harping on that?” He pulled his lips wide, showed a lot of teeth, and said in a low growl, “Is this better?”
“Put that thing away, it’s frightening,” Becky exclaimed.
“Never happy, are you? First, she complains I’m a humorless dick, and now my smile ain’t good enough.”
He harangued without real heat as he leaned against her doorframe. Casual as could be, and oh look, a bed not far from them.
She moved to her closet and pulled out some clean clothes, saying over her shoulder, “Oh I think you have a sense of humor. The kind that laughs when people fall off skateboards or electrocute themselves.” She turned around to toss her garments on the bed and caught the genuine grin that finally graced his face.
No wonder he hid it. The man was bloody gorgeous when he used it. And he had a dimple.
Dimple.
A deadly combination.
“You forget to mention getting nailed in the balls.”
“Is that what it would take to make you laugh? Hitting you in the sac?” She arched a brow.
“I wouldn’t recommend trying it.”
“Are you sure? My ball-handling skills are quite stellar.” She turned away, lest he see her biting her lip to keep from laughing.
Since he didn’t immediately reply, or seem inclined to leave, she grabbed the hem of her top and pulled it off. Only her bare back showed, and yet she felt exposed, utterly conscious of the fact he remained in the room.
Did he stare?
He did. “What are you doing?” Asked in a very low voice.
“You told me to get ready, remember?” She finished snapping the hooks of her bra before turning around, doing her best to think bathing suit. The bra acted like a bikini top.
Except she’d never had a man’s gaze smolder when she went somewhere to tan.
“I’ll be in the hall. Come out when you’re ready.” He abruptly left.
Her giggles might have chased him. She quickly finished dressing and spent a moment freshening her hair and adding a bit of makeup.
When she exited into the hall, Jett leaned a few paces away, seemingly negligent, and yet, she saw how he stiffened the moment she stepped out.
“About time,” he drawled.
“Given I’m sure it takes you longer to get that perfect ‘I am the bringer of doom and gloom’ look every morning, you can stop with the insults.”
“Or what?”
“I have ways of making you beg for mercy.” Her glance dropped south of his waist.
His hand slid down to cover the growing bulge. “Not interested, Red.”
“Did someone forget to tell your little friend?” She played with fire. She knew it. Teasing and taunting, yet she couldn’t help herself.
“Nothing little about it.”
“Says you. I demand proof.” She took a step closer to him.
Jett stood his ground despite t
he muscle jumping in his cheek. “It’s not going to work.”
“What isn’t?” Slanting him a glance through partially shuttered lashes, she pursed her lips.
“Whatever it is you’re doing.”
“You’re scared of me. And yet you shouldn’t be. I won’t be around long enough to matter.”
Shock widened his eyes.
But she was done playing. The flirting only served to remind her what she couldn’t have.
She stepped past him. “I take it you’re here to conduct me to my new assignment.”
“I’m supposed to escort you to Chimera’s lab.”
“Not as simple as walking through a solid-seeming rock wall?”
“It’s simple once you know where to look. Follow me.” That sexy strut took him up the hall. At the juncture, he halted and cast a glance back, impatience in his expression. Which was why she slowed her steps and smiled. “What’s the weather like outside today? And more important, are they serving bacon for breakfast? Do you know they actually had the nerve to have sausage only last Tuesday morning? Me, eating sausage. Mind you, I don’t mind a mouthful of thick meat but—”
As she caught up, he growled, “You’re pushing it, Red.”
“If you’re nice, maybe I’ll be tugging it, too.” Said with a wink then a smothered giggle as he made a noise that screamed frustration. The dirty kind.
There was something fun about driving him a little nuts.
Turning into the hallway under construction, she looked back and saw someone going the other way. “Won’t people wonder what we’re doing down here?”
“They’ll assume we’re fucking,” was his blunt reply.
“Well that’s no good.”
He cast a glance over at her. “Are you going to whine about your reputation?”
“No.” She laughed. “More worried about yours. You don’t seem like the type to take women in the halls.”
“Is that so?” he drawled. “And just what type am I?”
She pretended to ponder it a moment before saying, in a husky low tone, “The kind who likes to lie on his back in bed and let a woman take control.” Because how sexy would it be to have a man this big and strong underneath her, at her mercy?