by Cynthia Eden
Jay doesn’t want me back. Her heels tapped too hard against the floor. She hadn’t loved Jay, that was true, but she’d had plans for his money. And she’d liked him. He hadn’t been a total prick. Maybe, with time, maybe she could have loved him.
If she’d believed in love.
Reva made her way to the bar. She didn’t buy her own drinks. Hadn’t in years. Wouldn’t be starting any time soon. She drummed her fingers to the beat of the music, knowing that a helpful fellow would arrive any moment. Someone who’d be happy to get her drink.
And sure enough, a tall, handsome stranger appeared, as if on perfect cue.
“Buy you a drink?”
Her gaze swept over him. His sandy blond hair was carefully styled, brushed back from his forehead. His body was muscled, lean and hard. He wore an expensive suit—she could always tell the price of a suit by just one glance.
The guy was money, all right. Money and muscle, and he was just her type. “You may.” Reva smiled at him. Maybe she’d forget Jay.
He’d sure forgotten her.
The fellow motioned for the bartender. Then her new guy glanced back at Reva. “I believe you and I have a…friend in common.” The hesitation was brief, but obviously deliberate.
She shrugged her shoulders even as she put her hand on his chest. A flirtatious move. One she’d perfected long ago. “And who is that friend?”
“Jay Maverick.”
Her eyelashes flickered.
“And when I say friend…” the man continued in his deep, dark as sin voice, “I mean asshole that I’m going to destroy.”
Maybe she’d had too much to drink. Because at his words, Reva laughed.
He smiled. There was something about his smile…
Her laughter stilled.
A shiver slid over her.
“Want to help me?” he asked.
Chapter Ten
Willow had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. She hadn’t bothered with shoes, and she sat, her spine perfectly straight, on the edge of the bed.
Cecelia Gregory—Dr. Cecelia Gregory—had pulled a chair close to the bed. Like Willow, Cecelia was also wearing jeans. She’d taken off her coat to reveal a blue sweater, and she offered Willow a reassuring smile.
Willow didn’t feel particularly reassured. They were still in the containment room—still in her cell, and Cecelia made her nervous.
Willow’s gaze cut to the right. Jay was there. His shoulders were propped up against the wall, and his arms were crossed over his chest. His stare was on Cecelia.
“How are you feeling, Willow?” Cecelia asked carefully.
It wasn’t Willow’s first session with the shrink. She liked Cecelia. She was also uneasy around her. Because Cecelia could figure out how to get inside of everyone’s mind. Willow could touch a person and manifest their fears. But Cecelia could simply ask her careful questions and strip a person’s soul absolutely raw.
“Willow?” Cecelia prompted.
Willow pulled her gaze away from Jay. “Got to say,” she murmured. “I’m not at my best.”
“It’s almost dawn.” Cecelia gave her a quick smile. “And you’ve had a rather, um, eventful night.”
“Maybe we should wait until later for this,” Willow rushed to say. “If it’s nearly dawn, then—”
“I’m not going to stay long. Flynn will be coming for me soon. But I needed to check in with you, after everything that happened.”
Willow’s chin notched up. “You mean you had to check in to make certain I wasn’t going to flip out and attack everyone.”
“Yes.” Cecelia nodded. “I did.”
The woman didn’t pull her punches.
“You know I’m not going to lie to you, Willow. That’s not what I do. There was an extreme incident tonight, and I was asked to talk with you because we need to do a threat assessment.”
Willow wanted to look at Jay again. Because she wanted it so badly, she kept her eyes glued to Cecelia. “I didn’t—Jay said I didn’t make him see his fears.”
“No.” Cecelia’s voice was gentle. “You didn’t. You fought whatever compulsion or trigger Wyman gave to you.”
Her hands dug into the bed covers. “If I fought it, then that means Wyman can’t control me.”
“You did lunge across the room. You went for Jay. But something stopped you before you could follow through on the attack.” Cecelia tilted her head to study Willow. Her red hair trailed over her shoulder. “What do you think that was?”
“I don’t remember everything clearly. I just remember bits and pieces.”
“I’ve found that Lazarus test subjects maintain primitive responses and memories the best. Fear is very primitive. So is rage. Were you afraid in that room?”
“Yes.”
“Were you angry?”
“Y-yes…”
“Can you remember what Wyman said to you?”
Willow shook her head.
“What do you remember then?”
“I remember being over Jay. Staring down at him.”
“Good. That’s good, Willow. Tell me…how did you feel right then?”
Jay was watching. She’d asked him to watch, to stay, but now… “Can he leave?”
She felt Jay’s start of surprise.
“Forget it.” She huffed out a breath. Maybe he should hear this. “I felt ashamed. He’d treated me like I was normal, and then I was going to hurt him. I was like some kind of attack dog, that’s how I felt. Like I’d been given prey to target. And I looked down and it was Jay, and I couldn’t.”
“Do you remember how you felt right then? At that exact moment when you realized you were about to hurt Jay?”
“Frozen.” Inside and out. Unable to move. “I wanted to say something to him, I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t move at all.” Helplessly, her gaze darted to Jay. She found his stare on her.
Another shiver slid over Willow, and she made herself glance back at Cecelia.
Only to realize that Cecelia had caught her telling look toward Jay. The shrink was far too observant to miss any detail, no matter how small.
“What happened next?” Cecelia prompted in her calm, steady voice.
“I heard a gunshot. It was like the sound woke me up. I ran toward it.” Her breath came a little faster, her heart beat faster. “I found Jay crouched over Wyman. Blood was on Jay’s hands.” Her lips pressed together.
“And then…?” Cecelia prompted her.
“Then I attacked.” Heat stung her cheeks.
“There was no trigger word from Wyman this time? You attacked on your own?”
“I was…something broke inside of me.” The only way to describe it. “I was just left with fury. Fear.” Her lashes swept over her cheeks. “I couldn’t lose him.”
“Jay? You couldn’t lose Jay?”
No. Wyman. “He did something to me.” She looked up. “To my mind. Whatever Wyman did, you have to undo. Get him out of my head.”
“I’ll try,” Cecelia said. She nodded once, briskly, then said, “Jay, I need to talk with you outside.” She rose to her feet. “I think you should just rest for a while, Willow. Get some sleep.” She turned for the door.
Willow rose, too. “You mean I should rest, in here.”
Jay was at the door. So was Cecelia. The shrink glanced over her shoulder, and her hazel gaze was sad. “Yes.”
Because Cecelia thought that Willow was a threat. One who had to be contained. Willow’s gaze swept over the room. All the comforts of home, only it was a prison. “Right. That’s fine. Things will be different in the morning.” The lie came easily.
Then Cecelia was gone. Jay lingered a moment more, his gaze on Willow. “Are you going to be okay?”
No. “Of course. I just need to sleep.”
His jaw hardened.
“Go talk to Cecelia. I’ll be here.” Not like she could go anywhere else.
He still hesitated.
“I’m tired,” Willow told him and that was the truth. “I
want to get some sleep, okay? Just doing what the doctor ordered.”
“If you need me…”
“I don’t.” I do.
She slid into the bed. Closed her eyes. A moment later, the door shut. She heard the pad of his steps as he left her.
He thought the room was sound-proofed. That he’d managed to create a secure holding place so that Lazarus subjects couldn’t use their enhanced senses to see or hear what happened beyond that room.
He was wrong.
“We have a problem,” Cecelia told him quietly. Willow heard the shrink’s words perfectly. “If he’s set some kind of trigger in her head, then Wyman could have done the same thing to other subjects. He could have ways to control them all.”
“That’s just the beginning of our damn problems,” Jay threw back, his voice hard and grating. “Wyman said—the SOB said he’s her father.”
“What?”
But Willow had lunged upright in bed, her heart racing and her mind seeming to…splinter.
***
“You’re not dying on me, baby. You’re not.”
Wyman Wright’s voice. But his face was different. His nose was bigger, his jaw harder, and his thin hair was gray at the sides. Fear etched deep lines onto his face as his shaking hand touched her cheek. “I’m going to help you.”
She wanted to talk, but couldn’t. Her whole body felt funny. Cold.
Numb?
“I’ll make you stronger, baby. I’ll make it so that he can’t ever hurt you again. I’ll fix what I did. I’ll bring you back, I swear it.”
He could do so much, she knew that. But even he couldn’t cheat death. And death was there. She could see it in the darkness around her. She wanted to tell him good-bye, but couldn’t. All she could do was stare at his face as the darkness around them both grew stronger.
“No, Willow, you hold on! I need you to hold on just a little longer. There are steps to follow. Fucking preservation process—it’s going to work! It worked on the others, and it will work on you.”
She couldn’t see him. Had her eyes closed? Or had the darkness gotten too strong?
“Baby!” His voice seemed to break. “I won’t lose you. You’ll come back…” His words roughened. “Even if I have to fight heaven and hell…they won’t take you.”
Then she could have sworn that she felt the fire of hell. Because she seemed to be burning—burning from the inside out. Her whole body hurt, and the pain wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop. She was being torn apart. The woman she’d been, the life she’d had, it was ripped away from her. She could see her life tearing into pieces. She tried to grab the pieces, but they were burning. She was burning.
She opened her eyes—
Strapped to a table. In a white, sterile lab. Men and women in lab coats.
Willow screamed.
***
“Her father?” Cecelia’s hazel eyes widened. “Bullshit.”
“Yeah, well,” Jay raked a hand over his jaw, feeling the rough edge of stubble, “I hope to hell that’s the case, but I’ve got Elizabeth comparing their blood and DNA. If he is her father, that would explain a few things, like why I can’t find a trace of Willow anywhere.”
“Because he would have protected her. Probably her whole life.” She rocked back on her heels. “As many enemies as he has…no way would Wyman want the world knowing he had a daughter. He would have kept her away from everyone. He would have—”
“He would have trained her,” Jay said flatly. “Made sure that she knew how to protect herself from any threat. That’s where she got her skills. Wyman. If what he’s saying is true. We thought Willow had a military background like the other subjects, but Wyman treated her differently from the beginning. He kept her separated because she was different.”
“He protected her.”
Jay nodded. “And he only came out of hiding when he thought she was in danger.” When she’d been shot. Hold the fuck up. His mind started spinning. If Wyman had been protecting her, then had all of that BS about Jay being a threat to Willow—had it been true?
No, no way, it—
Willow screamed.
He instantly whipped around, staring through the one-way glass. Willow wasn’t supposed to be able to hear anything outside of her room, but he’d set up the space so that he could hear her. And her scream was absolutely gut-wrenching.
She was sitting upright in bed, her body twisting and turning, and her scream kept echoing.
He didn’t hesitate. Jay ran back to her, throwing open the door and rushing toward the bed. “Willow!”
Chapter Eleven
He grabbed Willow, fear thick in his stomach, and Jay’s fingers tightened around her shoulders. “Willow!”
She wasn’t screaming anymore. Her eyes were wide open, she seemed to see through him, but then she blinked once, shuddered, and color came flooding back into her too pale cheeks.
“I died,” Willow whispered.
“No, baby, you didn’t, you were having a dream, you—”
“Wyman was there. He said he’d bring me back. That he’d make sure I couldn’t ever be hurt again.” She shuddered again. “And then I was burning. Everything about me—everything was being torn away.”
He pulled her against his chest and held her, hating her pain. Hating the fact that this wasn’t just some bad dream. It was her life.
“It hurt. I thought I was in hell. Then it all changed. I opened my eyes, and I was strapped to a table. I was in a lab.”
And that was where she’d stayed. Locked up. A prisoner.
I made her a prisoner again.
“Screw this shit.” He scooped her into his arms. Carried her toward the door. Cecelia was there and when she saw him coming, with Willow cradled in his arms, Cecelia gave a frantic shake of her head.
“What are you doing?” Cecelia gasped.
“What I should have done in the first place.” His hold tightened on Willow. “She doesn’t belong in some cell. She’s not going to be locked up.”
“Jay, you know what happened before, you know—”
“I know she didn’t kill me. I know she won’t. And I know there is no way I’m leaving her locked up.” It hurt her. He’d hurt her. “Step aside, doctor.”
Cecelia hesitated, but she moved to the side.
“Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to Willow’s head. “We’re going upstairs, baby. I’ll open the blinds, let the light in. Just the way you like.” He kept talking to her as he made his way down the hallway, then up the stairs.
With every step he took, he could feel Cecelia watching him.
***
“I need to ask you a question.”
West Harper stared into the gleaming amber liquid. Whiskey. Not really his drink of choice, but it had been one hell of a day. Or, rather, night. After nearly being blown to hell and back, he could use something to take the edge off.
Cecelia cleared her throat. “West? Did you hear me? I need to ask you something.”
He downed the whiskey and turned toward her.
She nervously tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear. “It’s about Jay.”
“Figured as much.” He waited. When it came to Jay’s secrets, West wasn’t exactly the sharing sort. He liked Cecelia, she was good at her job, but he wasn’t going to betray his brother. Not for anyone.
“How long has he been in love with Willow?”
Not the question he’d anticipated. West gave a low laugh. “He isn’t.” Jay had never gotten serious about any woman. Sure, he loved women. In general. Loved them in all sorts of shapes and sizes, but to be in love with one particular woman? Not Jay’s style. Jay didn’t go for permanence. Not for commitment. His life was his tech. His inventions.
“Are you sure?” She stepped forward. “Because I’m afraid that Jay’s emotions may be blinding him to a danger that he shouldn’t ignore.”
Now tension swept through West. “You’d better elaborate on that danger.”
She glanced over her shoulder
. “Willow is dangerous.”
“All of the super soldiers are dangerous.” He paused a beat. “Including your lover.”
“Flynn wouldn’t hurt me.” Her instant response.
“Yeah, but he’d sure destroy anyone who tried to come at you, wouldn’t he? And the guy wouldn’t hesitate.”
She nodded. “True.” Cecelia’s hands pressed to the front of her jeans. “I think the subjects need an anchor of sorts. Someone they can connect with. Someone to help them maintain their link to humanity.”
“That what you are to Flynn? His humanity?”
She glanced away from him. Her gaze swept around the room—Jay’s study. Some of the furniture was smashed. Broken glass littered the floor. “What if she hadn’t stopped?”
Like that question hadn’t already run through his head a dozen times. When Jay needed him, West hadn’t been there. Hadn’t been close enough to save his brother’s life. The guards outside had been unconscious. Jay had been on his own. “He was armed.”
“Do you think he’d ever shoot her?”
No, he didn’t. “She’s locked up for the time being,” West said, making sure he sounded confident and in control. The lady obviously needed some reassurance. “We can figure things out—”
“He’s not locking her up. I think he should. And you know I don’t say something like that lightly. Until we can figure out how that trigger worked, until we can figure out exactly what happened in this room, Willow should be secured. But he won’t lock her up. Jay just carried her back upstairs. Not a logical move for a man who lives his entire life based on logic.”
No, it wasn’t a fucking logical move. It was a suicidal one.
“I’ll ask again…how long has he been in love with her?”
West didn’t speak.
“I need your help, West. I’m trying to figure things out.” She began to pace. “If I could have just seen what happened here. Willow’s memories are spotty, and Jay is hell bent on protecting her. I need to know exactly what went down, I need—”
He walked to the bookshelf. Lifted one of the books. Not really a book. It was tech Jay himself had created, only the guy hadn’t realized West had used that tech against him.
Not precisely using it against him. Using it to protect him.