by Megan Hart
“You,” she spat down into his face, “hit like a boy.”
Then she got him with a right hook that knocked him out. Tasting blood, Nina spit again, this time onto the floor. She got off the unconscious man, well aware that he was only going to be out for a minute or so while his enhancements worked to wake him up.
“You should just kill him,” said a female voice from the bedroom doorway. “But oh, what a waste of money that would be, and I’m afraid I can’t really condone that, Ms. Bronson. So might I suggest you get away from him, before he wakes? Because he’s going to come up swinging, and I really don’t have the time to keep watching, as entertaining as it’s been.”
Nina did take several steps away from Blakely, whose eyelids were already fluttering as he struggled to get back to consciousness. She kept her eyes on him, since he was the more immediate threat. She let her glance flick toward Ewan, who looked like he was still out. Then at the woman in the doorway.
“You should probably tie him up,” the woman said with a gesture at Blakely.
“He can get out of anything I tie him with,” Nina replied. “The same way I can. Maybe you should just call him off.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, like a dog?”
Blakely was a dog. They all were, in their own ways. Trained to attack and to kill and to follow commands. Nina wiped away a runner of blood from her nose and widened her stance, waiting to see if Blakely was going to get to his feet.
The woman moved closer, still keeping her distance from Nina but clearly checking out Ewan. “He’s not dead.”
“Is he supposed to be?” Nina asked coldly.
“Nina Bronson. Thirty-two years old. Joined the North American United States Army at nineteen. Wounded and declared legally dead for seven point two minutes, at which time, you were given emergency surgery that saved your life and implanted you with a series of nanochips and a software program that allows your memories and bodily functions to be manipulated.” The woman smiled. “You don’t remember me.”
Nina shook her head warily watching Blakely, who had not yet risen, and Ewan, who was stirring. “I don’t.”
“None of you do. That’s perfectly all right, you don’t have to. I remember all of you. I’m Dr. Wanda Crosson. I was there when they brought you in. I’m the one who cut you open. In a way, you could say I’m like your mother, since I’m the one who brought you back into the world.”
“In a way,” Nina said, “I could say that you talk like you had someone write your villain speech for you and practiced it in front of a mirror for a few hours while you tried, but failed, to figure out how to sound like a badass.”
Crosson recoiled with a sneer. “God, you were always such a bitch.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Nina brought up her hands, curled into fists. Without her weapons, she’d have to count on her hands, feet, and teeth, but that didn’t worry her. If anything, fighting without a gun or a knife was easier, because she could kill someone as easily without them. “Now, do you want to tell me what you’re doing here and what’s going on? Or do you want me to drop you the way I dropped Blakely?”
“I’m here for Ewan, of course.”
Nina rolled her eyes. “Duh. Yeah. I figured that part out already. But what do you want from him?”
“Justice. Retribution.”
Ewan groaned. Nina went to him at once, pausing to drop a kick into Blakely’s temple to keep him down. He twitched and went quiet. At Ewan’s side, Nina put her hand on his shoulder and bent to look into his face, while she kept the corner of her gaze on Crosson.
“Hey, baby. Are you all right?” The endearment slipped out of her and she didn’t care if anyone heard it. She put a finger beneath his chin to tip his face gently toward her. “Don’t fight this. I’m going to take care of you. Of everything.”
She got rid of the ties binding his hands behind him and stood, a hand on his shoulder, making sure he didn’t try to get to his feet. He looked at her with dropping eyelids, still hovering on the edge of unconsciousness. They must have drugged him, too, but he was going to take longer to recover.
“What did you give him?”
“‘Baby,’” Crosson said thoughtfully. “You called Ewan Donahue ‘baby’? Am I to presume that means you’ve entered into an intimate relationship with him?”
“The fact you found us naked in bed would seem to indicate that, yeah,” Nina said wryly with a shake of her head. “Don’t act like you’re so surprised. Now, why don’t you tell me what you gave him, so I can figure out when he’s going to wake up.”
“Perhaps you should put on some clothes.” Crosson snagged one of Ewan’s shirts from the pile of laundry in the basket by the window and threw it toward Nina, who caught it nimbly without even looking.
It smelled of him, but there wasn’t time for her to delight in that. She gave Crosson a smug grin. “You’re afraid of the sight of tits and ass?”
“Crude.” Crosson shook her head. “You think your body is something to intimidate me? Without me, you would no longer exist. You’d be no more than ash and a memorial hologram, if it weren’t for me. You owe me everything, Nina.”
Nina didn’t need to put on Ewan’s shirt. She did, however, tuck it around his waist to keep his body from Crosson’s prying gaze. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. You think because you’re the one who cut me open that somehow I owe you? I can be absolutely grateful for my life, Dr. Crosson, and still not give a single shit about your part in it. Do you understand?”
“I do. Do you? I wonder.” Crosson took the chance on moving a step or so closer to Nina, her gaze flicking to Blakely, moaning on the floor. “If you don’t kick him in the head again, he’ll surely wake. If you do, you might very well put a final end to him.”
Without hesitating, Nina pivoted and kicked Blakely directly in the temple again. Hard. Hard enough to, as Crosson had said, put a final end to him. Nina’s toes crunched, aching at the impact, but she didn’t even flinch. She kicked him again, harder this time, until he was silent.
Crosson’s lips pursed. “And here I thought you might have more compassion for him.”
“Why? Because we used to fuck once in a while?” Nina glanced at Ewan, whose gaze was clearing, but who still looked a bit out of focus.
“Did you?” Crosson gave a mock-innocent blink. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I meant more because you and he had the same backgrounds—”
“We don’t, actually,” Nina interrupted. “Blakely and I might have both had the same surgeries, and yeah, we both served in the army, but we are not alike.”
Crosson snorted under her breath. “Perhaps you didn’t start out that way, but you certainly grew to be very much like each other.”
Ewan tried to speak, but his words slurred. Nina tipped his chin up again so she could look into his eyes. She tried to reassure him that he was safe, but it remained unclear if he could really see her.
“What did you give him?” she asked again, her calm voice giving nothing away about how close she was to going atomic all over the other woman.
Crosson rattled off a long name with a lot of syllables, then gave Nina a twisted smile. “Don’t tell me you have any idea what that is.”
“Does it matter? When does it wear off?”
“It won’t.”
Nina paused, a comforting hand on Ewan’s shoulder. “Explain.”
“First, he’ll be groggy. When he regains awareness, he’ll find himself compelled to answer truthfully any question posed to him. And shortly after that, his bodily functions will begin to shut down, one by one, and he will slip into a coma. After that,” Crosson said, “he will probably die.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ewan heard the voices, one of them belonging to Nina and the other, feminine and familiar but yet unknown. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, but everything swam and blurred, and no matter how hard he tried to pull in a breath to clear his head, all he could manage was to let out a soft moan.
Slim, strong fingers stroked along his cheek. Settled on his shoulder. Squeezed. He drew strength from the touch. It was Nina. He didn’t have to see her to know it.
Time passed. He didn’t know how much, but the next time he struggled to open his eyes, he managed to focus. A chill prickled his skin into gooseflesh. He was naked, a bundle of soft material covering his lap.
With a groan, he came fully aware, struggling. Nina was still there, murmuring his name and putting her arm around his shoulders. She looked into his face, cupping his chin until he looked into her eyes.
“Shh,” she said. “I’m here. You’re all right. You’re going to be fine. I’m going to take care of you, love. Don’t worry.”
Love.
She’d called him “love,” and the warmth of that spread through him like a fire fed by gasoline. Ewan looked at the T-shirt on his lap, confused. They’d been making love. He remembered that. And after that . . .
Over Nina’s shoulder, a form shifted into view. Female, with gray, shoulder-length hair. Dark brows in contrast. Icy gray eyes boring into his even from across the room. He’d recognized the voice. He knew the face. He struggled to form the name, but all he could do was grunt. His mouth tasted like ashes and acid.
“Hello, Ewan,” the tall woman said. “It’s been some time since we last spoke. I do hope that this time you won’t try to have me thrown off the property the way you did that last time. That was quite impolite. Bordering on rude, I’d say.”
“I’ll be happy to throw you off anything, including a cliff,” Nina said.
Ewan’s laugh hurt his throat and his chest, but his love for her swept over him in waves of rushing heat. He sat up straighter, noting a number of aches and pains. He ran his tongue along his lips, tasting blood. Another surge of consciousness rolled through him. Waking him. Clearing his head.
“Don’t you remember me?” The older woman moved closer, grinning even as Nina held out a warning hand.
They were all in his bedroom. In the cabin near Deer Park. The safe house. He’d come here with Nina to get away from people who were trying to hurt him.
“I remember you,” he said, or tried to say. He must’ve been able to make at least some of the words comprehensible, because the other woman laughed.
“See? I told you he knew me. His memories, at least, haven’t been erased.”
Nina took a deliberate step to put herself between them. “I don’t care if he knows who you are. That changes nothing. You’re not going to get another step closer to him.”
“Or what?” the other woman challenged.
“I will kill you.”
“The way you ‘killed’ Blakely?” The other woman sneered. “He’s still alive, and if you’re not careful, he’ll be awake soon and come after you.”
“I can take care of Blakely. I can also take care of you. I would advise you to back off.”
Ewan coughed to clear his throat. “She can. More than take care of.”
“I came all this way, with such effort, to find you. Don’t you at least want to know how I managed to do what nobody else in this vast world seems to have been able to do?”
“And again, with the viddy-streaming villain attitude. Are you sure you don’t want to pause to slip into something more appropriate? A cape, maybe?” Nina gestured at the woman. “You found us because we went into town. It was a mistake, a very costly one. And my fault.”
“No.” Ewan spat the taste of blood and cleared his throat again. “It was my fault. You told me it was dangerous. I should have listened to you.”
“Here’s one for the history books. Ewan Donahue admitting he was wrong. You both are incorrect, as it turns out. Ewan, you might not remember telling me about this place,” the woman said, “but you did, a long time ago. Over coffee and doughnuts, in the lab. You went on and on about how beautiful it was, how much it meant to you. You used to share lots of things with me, back when we used to be friends.”
“We worked together,” Ewan said around his aching, tight throat. He didn’t remember ever sharing coffee and doughnuts with her, but at this point, he didn’t guess it mattered. “That didn’t make us friends.”
He knew her, now, as the world filtered into focus and he no longer had to struggle against the clouds in his brain.
“Wanda,” Ewan said.
She faced him with a wide, smug grin. “Ah. Thank you. It’s so much nicer to be given the courtesy of my name. See, watchdog? I told you he would remember me.”
“What are you doing here?” Ewan asked.
“When I heard the reports that you’d died, I knew it couldn’t be true, not with Donahue Enterprises still merrily running along as though nothing had happened to you. After all, you’re one of the most influential men in modern politics, and dare I say it, society itself. Think of all the parties you ruined by not showing up to take pictures with all those wealthy panderers.” Crosson sneered.
He might not recall the doughnuts, but he did remember the rants. “You never did like parties.”
“I’m a scientist,” she hissed, drawing out the sibilance like a serpent. “Not like you. A poser.”
“What do you want?” Nina interjected. “For the love of the Onegod or whatever you want to pray to, get on with it, already.”
Crosson whirled on her. “You can shut your mouth. I’m explaining. You don’t get to force me into anything, don’t you understand me? I’m done with that! Done with bowing and scraping and making nice to people who think they’re better than I am!”
“What are you doing here, Wanda?” Ewan kept his voice as calm as he could, hoping to prompt her into an answer and not another rant.
“When the stories started coming out that you were dead, I knew it couldn’t be true. I’d already known about her”—she jerked her chin toward Nina—“and of course I knew there was no way that if one of mine was protecting you that she would ever allow you to be killed. I’d made them all so perfect, no matter what you ever tried to come back and say later. They were all perfection. When she also disappeared, there were no bodies. Well. Maybe everyone else was fooled, but I wasn’t. I did my research. When I couldn’t find any record of the cabin you said you used to love to visit, I knew that was where you must be. Why else would you have made it disappear? Oh, how good you are at making things disappear, aren’t you?”
Ewan spat to the side and took in the details of the situation. He and Nina, both naked. Stark bruises stood out on her dark skin. Blood spattered her face, chest, arms. She stood in a fighting stance, unafraid, and in that moment he loved her more than he thought it could be possible to love anyone.
He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “You were compensated, Wanda. Well beyond what anyone could have asked for.”
“That’s your opinion,” Crosson said. “Of course you would think so.”
Ewan looked at Nina, who kept her wary gaze on the other woman. For the first time, Ewan noticed the man on the floor and the growing puddle of blood spreading out from beneath his head. He startled, and Nina’s hand once more squeezed his shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” she said. “I have it under control.”
“And he allows you to be? Interesting,” Crosson said as Ewan relaxed under Nina’s touch, knowing she would be able to do whatever it took to get them both out of this.
“It’s what he hired me for. Seems like you shouldn’t be so surprised about that, since you seem to know everything else about anything that ever happened in the whole world,” Nina said.
Crosson frowned at the deliberate and obvious jab, but Ewan’s love and admiration for Nina grew deeper. Memories swarmed through his brain like bats swooping after insects in the night sky. A rush of warmth tingled through him. Not sexual. Nothing close to pleasure. It was a sensation that was going to become pain soon enough, he could tell, and he knew, then, what Crosson had done to him because the two of them had developed it together.
“It never went to market,” he said.
Crosson shrugge
d. “You think just because you didn’t put your money behind it that nobody else would? I suppose you would think that. You always were that arrogant. All these years, you thought you had it all, but you never knew, did you? That I was watching. And waiting. Just biding my time.”
“Practicing how to twirl your mustache,” Nina muttered and took a menacing step toward her. “I’m about tired of your mouth.”
Ewan spat again against a rising metallic taste that was no longer blood, but the combination of chemicals rushing through his bloodstream and infiltrating his neurons. “You don’t have to do this, Wanda. Give me the antidote. You have it, don’t you?”
Nina took a step toward Crosson. “So help me, I will hurt you, if you don’t.”
Crosson shrugged again, this time tossing out her arms as though she didn’t have a care. Ewan couldn’t recall ever seeing her in civilian clothes, without a white lab coat, but noticed now that she wore a pair of slim-fitting trousers and a matching dark blue shirt, along with a pair of hikers. The fact she was fully dressed while he and Nina were not made him angry enough to stand, clutching at the T-shirt.
He pushed past Nina, but in the opposite direction of both Crosson and the goon she’d brought with her. He grabbed a pair of pants and yanked them on, feeling the floor shift beneath his feet as he tested his balance by standing on one foot at a time.
First, he’d been unconscious. Awoke groggy. Next would come the brief window of time before his kidneys shut down, followed by the rest of his organs. After that, coma. He didn’t have much time to get himself and Nina out of here and to a place where he could get injected with the antidote.
“If you hurt me, I won’t be able to administer the antidote,” Crosson said to Nina. “And then what will you do, when your boyfriend is writhing on the floor in agony? Oh, my, I think I’d like to see that.”
She’d always been that way. Coy, occasionally simpering. She’d thrown tantrums in the lab when she didn’t get her own way. Her brilliance had been constantly undermined by her personality.