“Well, that explains everything then. Okay.” She took a deep breath. She had to keep going before she started screaming. “So, who is number three? Does he walk through walls or something?”
“It seems that way sometimes, but, no, Drake is like Lansing. He can heal injuries, though he’s more powerful than Lansing because of Beth and her catalyst ability. Drake healed himself from a nasty chest wound not too long ago. It would take more than a bullet to bring him down.” Alec stopped abruptly.
“Oh, hey, don’t stop with the revelations now.”
“Drake’s also a black-ops former CIA agent and all-around scary guy. That has nothing to do with his power but I thought you should know.”
“I got the all-around scary guy part. Of course, I’m saying that to a man who just made fire fly around the room.”
Alec smiled.
“Wait, hold on. Back up.” She waved her hands. Secrets were coming out too fast to absorb. Telepaths. Firestarters. Immortals. Catalysts. “Drake could be the father of this baby?” Keep her safe. That’s what he had said he wanted. Fuck. Now she knew why.
“So to speak. The odds are good he’s related to your baby. Lansing was his biological father. Lansing used Drake’s sperm without his knowledge or consent. But that means your baby could be either Drake’s son or his brother.”
“Oh.” Of course it did. “Does Drake know?”
“I think he probably guessed but we haven’t talked about it. I’d say odds are good he knows. He always knows.”
That meant Drake had been telling something close to the truth when he claimed to be the baby’s father.
“Son of a bitch,” she said.
“Yeah,” Alec agreed. “He is. But he’s on our side.”
Chapter Eleven
As the elevator doors closed on Del, Philip clenched his hands into fists. He couldn’t hide his anger any longer. He’d barely held onto it until Del was safely aboard the elevator. Yet he had absolutely nowhere to go with it. The object of his hatred was already dead.
Lansing, you fucking bastard.
It had been that last gesture when Del had closed her eyes to smell the room. That was when it had clicked. She’d thought he’d shut down because of some problem with his daughter. He’d let her believe it.
Philip strode down one of the darkened hallways, walked into a bathroom and turned on the lights. He looked at himself in the mirror. He seemed a young man. The image lied. He doubted he’d ever been young.
What had Del seen in him to trust him so quickly?
Not, he hoped, the truth.
He punched the mirror. It shattered. Shards crunched against his knuckles and dug in under the skin. Blood dripped on the sink, on the floor, onto his clothes.
He dropped to his knees and put his head in his hands.
Del Sefton. Delilah. He should have realized sooner. If he had, he never would have gone near her. He’d danced with her. Held her in his arms. Had nearly kissed her. He still wanted to do all those things. Just the image in his mind’s eye had him thinking of ways to touch her, to kiss her, to—
It was so wrong to want all those things.
Delilah. Lilah.
Lily.
Lily.
That was why she’d seemed so familiar and why he’d liked her from the start. He knew her, possibly better than anyone in his life.
Lily, the little girl who’d been his only friend growing up. Seven years younger, a little wisp of a girl with long hair and big eyes. She’d snuck him snacks when his stepfather locked him in a closet. After one especially bad beating, she had simply curled up next to him, adding warmth while he shivered from shock and cold.
Lily, who somehow had turned out kind and thoughtful despite the many moves, despite how his stepfather had browbeat them all constantly, despite the night the world crashed around them.
The night he’d killed her parents. He thought he was saving her life, but later, he wondered if her parents had merely been pretending to go along with his stepfather’s mad plan of murder-suicide that day.
Maybe her parents had been going to save Lily, not kill her.
He would never know.
Philip would be dead too, save that his mother—for the first time in her life—stood up to his stepfather and shot him before he could kill Philip. Then the tear gas came through the windows and the Feds rushed in.
His mother had then claimed to have shot everyone to the Feds. All their tromping around had wrecked any evidence, so they let her confession stand. Philip probably should have told them the truth, but his mother had ordered him to remain silent. He still wondered if he’d done the right thing.
But Lily knew the truth. She had been locked in the bathroom but she heard what had happened. She’d heard her father yell Philip’s name and call him “murderer”. Oh, yes, Lily knew. His last memory of her was her screaming how much she hated him.
He’d never found her later to tell her the truth of what had happened. Who knew what was really the truth, anyway?
Let Lily hate him. Better than believing that her parents had wanted her dead. And even if Lily got past what he’d done, what kind of friendship could he ever offer? He was nothing any longer, just a shadow of a real person. Beth was his only anchor to reality.
Philip had never even looked for Lily.
Lansing obviously had.
Lansing had handpicked her for this. Philip knew that in his gut. Delilah had had a good life, and Lansing had taken it away from her out of some twisted desire to hurt his estranged son.
That child in Del’s womb was likely related to him, either his son or his brother. There was a thirty-three percent chance that Lansing had implanted the child of someone who killed her parents inside Del Sefton, all out of some twisted revenge.
Philip pounded the floor, digging the glass shards in deeper. Pain shot up his arms. Blood pooled onto the floor. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily. Sweat poured down his back. He held up his bloody hands and opened his eyes.
He still imagined holding Del. The lust triggered by the pain spread through his body. He imagined Del in his arms, in the back seat of the Charger. She wasn’t a child any longer, she was a beautiful woman, one who’d saved his life, one who—
One whose life had been wrecked so she could carry a child who was either his brother or his son.
Blood slid down his arms, soaking his shirt.
What a mess.
Daydreaming about her wouldn’t help. Neither would crippling himself before he caught the men looking for her. Wrecked hands wouldn’t help him find Genet, they wouldn’t help him interrogate Cheshire.
They wouldn’t help him make certain Del and her son could live in peace.
Philip pulled out a pocketknife and flicked the shards out of his knuckles, one by one. Pain slashed at him. He grinned, riding with it, feeling his nerves sizzle with the agony. His erection pushed against his jeans. He ignored it. He’d not give into it, not when thinking about Del. She didn’t deserve that.
By the time he was done, both hands were covered in blood and he was shaking but whether it was pain or pleasure, he couldn’t tell. To him, it was all the same now.
He closed his eyes and concentrated. Pain mingled with his innate ability, swirling together as one. Philip moaned. Energy enveloped him, invigorated him, honed his anger to a cold edge. He couldn’t control his desire any longer. He thought of Del in his arms, her head on his shoulder, and how he’d wished in the car that he dared to be a part of her life.
He sank into the fantasy and he remembered her arm around his waist and the way she felt against him, and how her mouth had been ready for a kiss…
He snapped his eyes open.
I am a sick man.
He’d done enough. He would not come close to her again, no matter how good it felt, no matter the connection he’d felt with Del before knowing who she really was.
He could not see her again. Hell only knew what she’d think if she guessed who he was. It would
certainly make her less likely to believe the truth. Let Alec deal with Del. Philip would concentrate on taking out the people who wanted to harm her. He was good at that.
His healing energy vanished, its work done. Philip grasped the sink and pulled himself to his feet. He washed the blood off his hands and splashed his face for good measure.
The bathroom door opened. He turned, knife out, dropping into a fighting stance.
“What the fuck, Drake?”
“Evenin’, Gabe.”
Gabe. Lieutenant Gabriel, the executive officer of F-Team, Alec’s elite assault force. The tall, lanky lieutenant didn’t look like much, but he was a soldier and he could fight. His true talent, however, lay in tech and communications equipment. Philip put the knife away without being asked. He rather liked the quietly competent lieutenant. Besides, he would need Gabe’s help to track down Genet.
“Are your hands okay?” Gabe finally said.
“Fine.”
When Gabe pointed to the blood on the floor and all over his clothes, Philip held up his clean, healed hands.
Gabe looked at the busted mirror.
“Bad day. Had to shoot someone.”
Gabe nodded. “That always makes it a bad day.”
Philip walked past Gabe and out into the darkened corridor. “Is Dr. Cheshire still here?”
Gabe kept pace with him. “Yep. Alec was able to convince him to come back here after the firefighters talked to them at the scene of the arson. But he’s making noises about wanting to go home now. Alec said you’d arrived, so I came to find you and bring you to Cheshire. I figure you might get him to talk.”
“Did Cheshire tell Alec anything?”
“He whined a lot about his work being destroyed and how he didn’t understand how Genet could be a phony. Alec tried listening, told him he knew it must be hard to lose his assistant like that. It helped Cheshire calm down but it didn’t get him talking.”
“That’s because what Cheshire is really upset about is his missing work, not his dead assistant.”
It had been the promise of saving that work that enticed Cheshire to cough up Del’s name and address earlier today. Philip judged the same tactic would likely work on him now.
“That fits Cheshire, I guess. Bit of a cold fish.”
“That’s because he sees himself as God, playing with DNA like the Creator. We’re beneath his notice normally, I’d say.”
Gabe led them down another corridor. The light blazed bright over their heads. “Alec gave me the thumb drive you recovered from the scene.”
“And?”
“It’s in code. A scientific code too, or else I’d have been able to crack it. I thought about asking Cheshire what it means but I’m not sure I trust Cheshire to give us a straight answer.”
“Smart call. So what will you do?”
“I know some people. I’ll get an expert I trust to look over the files.” Gabe stopped in front of a door on the right. “Cheshire’s inside.”
“Good.”
“Drake.”
Philip glared. “What?”
“Don’t kill him, okay?”
Alec had asked the same, earlier, at the scene of the fire. “Kill someone who’s been playing God with my DNA? Why would I do that?” Philip growled, then shook his head. “It’s only Hollywood spies who need to hurt someone to get information.”
“And you think walking in there with blood all over you isn’t a form of intimidation?”
“It’s subtle.” Shit, he’d forgotten all about the blood. His lack of sleep was catching up with him. Still, his appearance might be useful. “I’ll be careful with Cheshire.” For now. “Are the cameras working? I want a visual record of what he says.”
“Yes. I’ll be watching as well.”
“Good. I want a second pair of eyes.” He reached for the doorknob. “This would be easier with Beth.” Her telepathy could grab what they wanted to know in minutes. “Any word on when she’ll be back?”
“She called Alec when she landed in Charlton City. Daz picked her up on schedule. Daz told me it might take up to two weeks to sort through everything there.”
Two weeks. He didn’t know if Del had two weeks to wait.
Well, if Beth wasn’t around to probe Cheshire’s mind for answers, neither was she around to sense the turmoil inside her father’s psyche.
He opened the door to the room.
Philip knew the minute he stepped inside that Beth had decorated it, though in an entirely different style than the lobby. The decor had warmth, from the soft brown of the couch and chairs to the soothing seascapes that dotted the walls, to the natural light streaming in from the windows.
This was Beth all over.
He smiled. His daughter was alive because Philip had saved and protected her. That gave him one on the positive side of the ledger. Protecting Del and her son would be number two. It wouldn’t change their past but it would give her back her future, intact.
Cheshire was sitting in one of the chairs, half-asleep.
Philip cleared his throat loudly. “Hello, Doctor.”
Cheshire flinched and straightened. “Did you find Delilah Sefton?”
“She’s safe,” Philip answered.
“Where? Is she here?” Cheshire stared at him. “Dear God, you’re a mess. Did you get hurt?”
“Where she is will be a secret until I know I can trust you.” He didn’t answer the other question. Why should he?
“I see.”
Philip grabbed two water bottles from the minifridge in the bar area. Eventually, he might offer Cheshire alcohol to soften him up but water was a much less threatening choice as a start. Philip sank onto the couch. He offered a bottle to Cheshire, and the man took it with a quick nod.
“Thanks. It seems no matter how much I drink, I can’t get the taste of smoke out of my mouth.”
Good, no more questions about Del. “I’ve heard that happens with people caught in a fire. It can take a day or two to fade.”
Philip opened his water and took a long drink, wishing it was whiskey.
Cheshire sipped his water as if testing it and then took a much longer swallow. When he was done, he rubbed the moisture off his lip with the sleeve of his tattered lab coat. “You look worse than after the fire. You were hurt protecting her?”
“Let’s say the day for me didn’t get better after the fire.”
Cheshire sat straighter. “Was she also hurt?”
Philip wondered if he should lie. But he decided not to tangle lies and truth. Yet.
“No. I found her before Genet’s goons had a chance to hurt her.”
“You’re sure she’s not injured?” The doctor’s voice cracked with concern.
“I’m certain.” There it was. Del was the enticement to get Cheshire to talk. “But if she’s to remain safe, we will need your help.”
Cheshire waved his hands, animated. “Well, of course! I’ll need to examine her and make sure the fetus is growing properly and I’ll need blood work and urine samples and—”
Philip looked at Cheshire, who was lost in his own little world, and decided that Del would never meet this man.
The doctor finally wound down and realized Philip hadn’t replied. “Is there something wrong?”
“Edward Genet destroyed your lab, killed your assistant and tried to kidnap Del Sefton, and your focus is on your experiment, Doctor?”
“Knowledge is important,” the doctor said, but he eyed the bloodstains on Philip’s pants. “And Ms. Sefton needs proper medical care.”
“Knowledge is essential,” Philip agreed. “But to keep Del Sefton and your experimental fetus in good health, I have to find Genet and stop him.” He leaned forward and smiled. “I don’t need you poking and prodding her. I need you to help me find Genet.”
“Are you certain he’s a threat? He is arrogant, true, and I didn’t much like the man, but he had great enthusiasm for the work, and he was as concerned as I was that Ms. Sefton and her child stay healthy.”<
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“He blew up your lab.”
“You don’t know that for certain. You’re guessing. Maybe someone was after him as well.”
Philip wondered if Cheshire was really that obtuse. “Genet was the last person in the area of the lab where the bomb was set. He was also the last person to see your friend and assistant alive.”
“I thought it was the explosion that killed Ted Demetrius?” Cheshire leaned forward.
Deliberately obtuse, Philip decided. “No, doctor, Ted was murdered. Half his skull was caved in. The explosion was to cover up the murder and destroy the entire lab, especially all your samples, data and records. That included the knowledge inside the heads of all your employees. None of you were supposed to live. If Alec Farley hadn’t been there when the bomb exploded, it would’ve worked. Everyone would be dead. Including you.”
Cheshire’s hand shook as he drank more water. A good show, if show it was. Maybe Cheshire was in shock. Murderous intent tended to be something people didn’t want to think about. It was too scary knowing someone wanted you dead. Philip didn’t understand that. He liked to know when someone was trying to kill him. It made it much easier to find them and kill them first.
“You said it was Mr. Genet who did this.”
“Yes.”
“How can you be sure, Mr., um, what is your actual name?”
“Philip Drake.” Philip caught the widening of Cheshire’s eyes. The biologist had heard his name before. “I’m a consultant for the Phoenix Institute. I specialize in protecting people.”
“And how do you know Genet’s behind all this, Mr. Drake?”
“Because he masqueraded as an adoption attorney. He tried to get Del Sefton to give up her child to him.” Drake stared at Cheshire. “This meeting took place today, immediately after he left Orion.”
“Oh.” Cheshire slumped back in the chair. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”
“How do you know Genet isn’t the liar?” Philip sat forward. “If you don’t trust either of us, trust logic. Think back on what happened today.”
Cheshire closed his eyes. “It’s true Genet was the last one to be with Demetrius. No one else could have gotten into the lab after he left. He must have been the one who killed him.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his legs. “I don’t understand. Genet had all the proper ownership paperwork, and he knew all about our work. How?”
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