Stay With Me

by Cynthia Eden

  Shelly’s head whipped toward the bar and the shadows. Who was there?

  John’s body stayed tense, but he called out, “Sheriff Blane! Come on out!”

  Blane was there?

  And sure enough, Blane appeared. He rushed toward them with his weapon drawn.

  “Oh, great.” Jay raked a hand through his already tousled hair even as he rocked forward onto the balls of his feet. “Now local law enforcement is involved. So much for keeping a low profile, Sawyer. I told you we had to handle this with tact.”

  Sawyer didn’t appear concerned. “Tact isn’t my strong suit. And I’m not here to bullshit John Smith. I want to help him, and I want to see if he can help me.”

  Blane advanced, moving into the glare of the building’s lights. His weapon was aimed at Sawyer. “What’s going on here?”

  “Don’t want to cause trouble,” Sawyer said slowly. “I’m here to try and give John some answers, if he wants to hear them. But this doesn’t concern you, Sheriff. You should go back to the bar. Enjoy the night. Walk away.”

  “Hell, no.” Blane’s grip tightened on the gun. “If you’re here to give answers, to tell John why he can’t die, why the guy is so freaking fast I can barely see him move sometimes, then I want to hear this shit, too.”

  “Oh, hell.” Jay’s hand dropped to his side. “The sheriff already knows? Low profile, people. Low profile. When you’re dealing with paranormal shit like this, you’re supposed to keep a low profile.”

  Paranormal shit. Shelly blew out a slow breath. It immediately fogged before her.

  John pulled her closer, wrapping his body around hers. “Shelly’s cold. If we’re going to talk, then we’re going inside.”

  Only no one moved. Well, Sawyer’s gaze dropped—it rested on her. Turned thoughtful. “She’s the key, huh? What pulled you out into the open?” Now he sounded really curious. “Did you remember her? Or did you just feel somehow connected with her? Because the primitive instincts, those stay, no matter what. That awareness remains, it’s just sometimes buried deep inside.”

  John’s head turned. He gazed at Shelly, and he looked absolutely lost. Her strong warrior, lost, and the sight hurt her. She found herself stepping forward, putting her body in front of his. Wanting, this time, to protect him. “There’s an apartment above the bar that we can use,” Shelly announced briskly. “We’ll go up there and talk, and you will give John the answers he needs.” She glared at the men before her. “And then you’ll get your asses out of his life.”

  Sawyer gave her a quick smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Project Lazarus is a top-secret government experiment. Dead soldiers are taken into the program, their bodies are put through a special preservation process, and then they are injected with the Lazarus serum.” Sawyer Cage stood in front of the fireplace with his arms crossed over his chest. His stare never wavered from John’s face. “When the subjects wake up, they’re stronger than before, faster. Their reflexes are far better, and most of us seem to have psychic bonuses.”

  John’s gaze cut to Shelly. While he was standing, she’d sat on the narrow couch, with Blane at her side. Shelly bit her lower lip. Her eyes were huge.

  “Hold up!” Blane raised his hand. “Let’s go back a bit. You said when the soldiers ‘woke up.’ But you mean when they come back to life, don’t you? Jesus, this is crazy shit.”

  Jay was pacing behind the couch. “You can’t talk about this stuff, Sheriff. Once we leave this room, it will be as if this conversation never occurred. There are government operatives out there, people who are hunting the Lazarus subjects. Their identities must be kept secret.” He paused and shot a hard glance at John. “So it would help if you cut down on the public heroics and tried to make it look like you weren’t superhuman.” He tapped his chin. “And you’ve got to stop using your real name. I can get you a new ID. Get you a new place to live. I can have you out of the country in the hour—”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” John put his hand on Shelly’s shoulder. “I’m home.”

  Jay’s stare dipped between the two of them. “Right.” He drew out the one word, then cleared his throat. “Look, Shelly’s a bit harder to handle considering her family business is worth millions.”

  John felt surprise rush through him. “Millions?”

  She shrugged beneath his hold. “And that’s why Devin wanted all the money for himself.”

  Shit. Shit. Okay, he’d known she was wealthy, but this was a whole new level. And he was a man who still didn’t even remember his past. What did he have to offer her?

  “John?” She rose, moving to stand in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head.

  “You’re not a broke asshole, so don’t worry about that,” Jay drawled, as if reading his mind. “You made plenty of investments before your, ah, untimely death in Miami. The investments have been tied up in limbo since your death, but I pulled some strings. Some slightly shady strings, mind you, but I got the wheels spinning. I’ll make sure you get what you have coming to you.”

  John growled as he turned his attention to Jay. “What is your link here? You’re not a soldier.”

  There was no way that guy was ex-military.

  Jay shoved back his shoulders. “I’m atoning for some sins, all right? That good enough for you? Better be, ‘cause that’s all you’re getting from me right now.” He glanced at the dark watch on his wrist. “And we need to wrap this up. I want to check in with Willow.”

  Willow. The name rocked through John and in a flash, he found himself across the room, with his hand on Jay’s throat, pinning Jay against the wall. “Where. Is. She?”

  But Jay glared back at him—and the bastard had pulled out a gun. One that he had pointed at John’s head. “I won’t betray her. Not fucking ever again. And if you don’t get your hands off me, right now, I’ll make sure that you stay permanently dead. A bullet to the brain will do that to your kind. You won’t threaten Willow. You won’t—”

  “Stop it!” Shelly yelled.

  And then she was pulling on John’s arm. “Just tell him, John.”

  John wasn’t telling that bastard anything. He was going to rip the gun from Jay’s hand, though. Then maybe pound the shit out of the guy.

  Shelly sighed. “John was held in a lab of some sort. He heard the name Willow mentioned by the doctors there.”

  Jay lowered his gun. “You were with her?”

  John saw the guilt flash on the guy’s face. Don’t trust this one. Won’t ever trust this one. Rage surged through his mind. It would be so easy to attack Jay.

  I get that the idea is tempting. Another voice slipped into John’s mind. A voice that sounded exactly like Sawyer Cage. But I can’t let you kill the guy. He’s still useful to us.

  John let go of Jay. He whirled to face Sawyer.

  The other man smiled at him. “See?” Now Sawyer was speaking out loud. “Told you that we came with psychic bonuses. It’s easy for the Lazarus subjects to communicate telepathically with one another.”

  “Holy shit,” Blane said as he staggered to his feet. “I’m going downstairs. I need some drinks to handle this mess.” He jerked his head toward them. “I’m off duty. So don’t think I’m…ah, hell, forget it. I just need some drinks.”

  No one spoke again until Blane was gone. The door slammed shut behind him.

  John pulled in a slow breath, then released it.

  “What other psychic powers do you have?” Jay wanted to know.

  Jay was a pain in his ass.

  “He can get into my head,” Shelly said, voice quiet. “Read my thoughts. I asked him to stop, though, and he did.”

  Jay whistled. “Interesting.” Jay’s head cocked. “Does it work just with her, or with everyone?”

  “Haven’t tried it on everyone,” John growled.

  “Then do it. Try it on me.”

  No, he didn’t want to fucking try it. “We’re done for now.” Because he d
idn’t want to hear more. He’d already heard enough. More than enough. He was a dead man walking, a lab experiment. Just as he’d thought.

  He and Shelly headed for the door, but Sawyer stepped into their path. “It’s scary, when you wake up and you don’t know anything. When you don’t know anyone. I get that, I’ve been there.”

  No, the guy didn’t get it. John pulled Shelly closer. “I knew her. I woke up, and I remembered her.”

  Sawyer’s eyes widened. “Then you are one lucky bastard,” he stated flatly. “I loved my Elizabeth, and it took far too long for me to find her again.”

  “Shelly was in danger.” John’s temples were pounding. “Being…hunted. I had to…save her.”

  Shelly rose onto her toes. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and the rage and fear that had been swamping him seemed to ease. “You did, John. You saved me.”

  But he shook his head. She didn’t get it. “No, baby, you saved me.” If he hadn’t possessed the memory of her, if she hadn’t been there to get him through those darkest times, John wasn’t sure what the hell he would have done.

  “You seem to be handling things better than others.” Jay’s voice had turned musing. “That’s good to know. Glad we don’t have to lock your ass up.”

  “Jay,” Sawyer snarled.

  But John had already spun back to face him. “What?”

  Jay winced. “Yeah, so, little note about that…Sawyer and I are searching for all the Lazarus subjects because you guys are absolute killing machines. The fiercest warriors ever created, but turns out, there are a few negative side effects to the grand old experiment.”

  “Like his memory loss,” Shelly noted.

  Jay nodded. “Yes, that and, um, the fact that the Lazarus test subjects can get overwhelmed by negative emotions. Rage. Fear. Jealousy. They multiply inside of the subjects, and they can lead, ahem…” Another wince from him. “Let’s just say we recently tangled with a test subject who had to be stopped, permanently. Because he was…wrong. Sometimes, that happens. When you play with life and death, sometimes the people who come back are wrong in the head.”

  John’s temples pounded even harder. He opened his mouth to reply—

  “You’re not stopping, John. He’s not wrong. He’s the best man I’ve met. So just get that shit straight in your head. You do not hurt him.” Shelly moved her body, putting herself between him and the others. “Now, we’re leaving. John and I are going to celebrate the holidays. And you guys—just give us a number or something and we’ll contact you when we’re ready.”

  Sawyer inclined his head toward John. I’ll be close. You need me, hell, it’s not like you even have to call.

  But John didn’t reply to the guy. Jay had hurried forward and given Shelly his business card. She took it and then yanked open the apartment door. They hurried down the stairs.

  I just want to help you. Sawyer’s voice drifted through John’s head once more. I’ve been where you are. You could use a friend in this world.

  He had a friend, he had Shelly.

  They pushed through the crowded bar. He glimpsed the sheriff leaning in close and talking with Sammy. A glass of whiskey was near Blane’s elbow.

  But John and Shelly didn’t stop to talk with the sheriff. Shelly was hurrying outside, and John made sure he was right behind her. They didn’t speak again, not until they were in their SUV and heading away from town. And then…

  “There’s nothing wrong about you.” Anger hummed beneath Shelly’s words. “Don’t listen to that jerk. He didn’t know what he was talking about.”

  The men did know about Lazarus.

  And Shelly didn’t know how hard it was, sometimes, how much control he had to keep in place. His control had slipped—no, it had absolutely obliterated when Devin attacked her. The rage had taken over.

  There had been no stopping him.

  “John?” Her hand reached out. Her fingers curled over his on the steering wheel. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  Was she trying to convince him?

  Or did she fear the truth and she was trying to convince herself?

  ***

  “I think that went well…ish,” Jay decided as he stared at the closed apartment door. “I mean, I’m breathing. You’re breathing. The guy seemed sane enough when he left with his, um, girlfriend.”

  Sawyer growled.

  Jay faced him, hands going to his hips. “Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have told him the part about some of the subjects being wrong, but it was the truth, and you know it. That’s why we’re hunting them down, and when I came across the report about the trouble up here, when I started my research on John Smith, I knew he was part of Lazarus.”

  “He’s different.”

  Jay rolled his eyes. “You’re all different. Different strengths, same weakness—a bullet to the brain.”

  “He remembered his girl.”

  “And you remembered Elizabeth, once you got closer to her. Look, I don’t handle the physical and medical side of this—that’s your girlfriend’s job, remember?” Because Elizabeth had been the one to first create the Lazarus serum. It had been her baby. A baby that had grown into a real beast. “But maybe the fact that Shelly Hampton was in trouble had something to do with his reaction. You guys are all primitive instincts, aren’t you? The urge to protect a mate, to keep her safe when she’s in danger—doesn’t get more primitive than that.” And the primitive memories were the ones that remained for the Lazarus subjects.

  Sawyer was still glaring at him. “He might not cooperate with us.”

  Forcing a shrug, Jay said, “We’ll give him some time. I think he’ll call. Or she will.” His money was on the woman. Shelly would want to learn as much as she could to help her lover. He’d seen the way she looked at John Smith. Jay had also seen the way John looked at her.

  As if she were the center of his world.

  Now Jay cleared his throat. “Look, it’s the holidays. We made contact, the guy doesn’t seem to be a threat. I can keep some security team members in the area to keep an eye on him, but it is almost Christmas. I know you want to be with Elizabeth. She wants to be with you.”

  “And you want to be with Willow.”

  Okay, that had just been hitting below the belt. Jay’s eyes turned to slits. “It’s not like that.”

  “Right.” Sawyer gave him a hard smile. “Because she’s your bait in the game we’re playing.”

  It wasn’t a game. There was one hell of a lot at stake. They were hunting Lazarus subjects, trying to see who was sane and who was a freaking wild killer, and they also had to stop the man who’d made the monsters in the first place.

  Wyman Wright. The man who’d secretly been pulling strings to control the U.S. government for years.

  Wright had taken Elizabeth’s formula. And tried to make his own army.

  “He knew Willow. I saw John Smith’s reaction to her name.”

  Jay clamped his lips shut. He’d seen the guy’s reaction, too. And he hadn’t needed any hyper senses to do it. “They were in the same lab.” He’d already known that Willow had been kept in a remote, North Carolina lab. He just hadn’t realized that John Smith had been there, too.

  “And there could be more subjects who were in that place, too,” Sawyer added.

  Willow hadn’t remembered other test subjects.

  But then, Willow had remembered very little.

  “That’s why we can’t leave him with a surveillance team.” Grim determination marked Sawyer’s face. “The guy could give them the slip in a moment’s time. We need to watch him. We need to convince John to join with us.”

  Jay could only shake his head. “And Elizabeth is going along with this? With you not being at her side for the holiday?”

  “Elizabeth will be with me.” Sawyer rolled back his shoulders. “We’ll be using that private jet of yours, and she can come up here.” His shoulder brushed against Jay’s arm as he made his way to the door. “The town’s fucking picturesque. She’ll love it.”r />
  “Picturesque?” Jay followed him out of the apartment. “Dude, a guy was just killed here last night. We really need to talk about what picturesque means to you.”

  Jay had never liked small towns. To him, small towns hid the biggest secrets. And, sometimes, the worst monsters.

  But he made his way down the stairs and to the bar. Jay shoved a twenty to the grizzled bartender. “Gonna be a long night,” Jay muttered. “Give me something good.”

  The sheriff had been on the barstool to the right. But at his words, the guy got up and marched out, not even looking back.

  Jay saluted the fellow with the glass he’d just been given. There he went, making friends left and right.

  Truly the story of Jay’s life.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “I think it looks good.” Shelly smiled as she took a step back to admire her work. She’d covered all of the Christmas tree’s bald spots with ornaments, and she’d layered up the lights. “Just needs a star.” She turned, offering the golden star to John. “Want to do the honors?”

  He stared down at the star in her hand as if he had absolutely no clue what he was supposed to do with it.

  “John?” Shelly prompted softly. “Will you put the star on top?”

  He swallowed. She saw his Adam’s apple bob. He’d helped her with the decorations, hanging them all ever so carefully, as if they were made of diamonds and not just gleaming, gold balls made of plastic.

  “Maybe you should do it.” He hadn’t taken the star. “Seems important.”

  A laugh slipped from Shelly. “The star is the most important part, but I want you to put it on the tree.” She winked at him, wanting to push away the tension that cloaked him. “Besides, you’re a lot taller than I am. That means you’re good for the job.”

  He took the star, his fingers brushing against hers. As she watched, he reached up and put the star on the top. The star immediately began to slide to the left as it bent the branch, but John grabbed it, straightening the star—and its branch—quickly.

  “Perfect,” Shelly announced as she backed up a bit more and stared not at the tree, but at him.