Mayhem's Betrayal: Operation Mayhem Book 5

by Lindsay Cross

  Yes, that was it exactly. She needed to have sex. With a man. The cold in her chest eased and her breathing calmed. As soon as she saw to sleep and food, and then was able to solve the issue with the serum, she was going to go out and find a man.

  Melissa gripped the door handle firmly and shoved through to the first floor of the mansion and slammed into a wall. “Ow!”

  A pair of large hands steadied her, holding her by the arms until she got her feet. “Slow your roll, doc,” came the teasing gravelly voice of Quantum, one of her favorite soldiers.

  She let out a shaky laugh and shrugged out of his grip, taking a step back. He’d dropped his cane to grab her and she picked it up wordlessly handing it back to him, thankful she hadn’t knocked him over.

  Of all the soldiers on the team, he had been the most damaged by General Rainier’s experiments. He’d come back here in a coma, nearly dead and she worked tirelessly just to get him back to the condition he was now. It had taken him weeks to learn to walk again. ”I’m sorry, I should’ve watched where I was going.”

  He planted the heavy cane on the floor and leaned onto it, but even like that she had to crane her neck back to look up at him. His muscles hadn’t quite regenerated to the mass of the rest of his team, but with regular exercise, and extra injections, he was on his way back to a full recovery. She was sure of it.

  “What’s wrong?” He completely ignored her apology.

  Melissa offered him a crooked smile, thinking of just how close she’d come to cracking earlier. “Nothing, I was just heading up to the room for a nap.”

  “Bullshit, doc. You might get away with telling those kinds of lies to the rest of the team, but not me.”

  Some of her calm evaporated. “I’m getting sick and tired of men telling me what I’m thinking or what I need to be doing.”

  “Men?” He lifted a dark brow.

  “Yes, you and John. What is it with you two?” She blurted out.

  A knowing look lit up his black eyes and she wanted to slap a hand over her mouth at her blunder.

  “So John’s getting under your skin is he?” Quantum’s casual question carried all the threat of a nuclear bomb.

  There is no way she was going to let anyone know that she was attracted to John Dawson. Not only because it was inappropriate from the simple standpoint that she was a scientist studying him, but also because he tried to kill the entire team.

  Quantum chuckled, “He is, that’s good.”

  “Good?” She said incredulously.

  “Yeah, it’s good to know you’re an actual human being. You spend so much time in the lab I was beginning to think you were turning into a machine or something. It’s perfectly natural Doc.”

  Melissa eyed him carefully. She’d just been thinking the same thing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, there’s nothing natural about any of this.” She swept her hand over her head in a broad gesture. “Plus, in case you’re forgetting, he did try to kill all of you.”

  Quantum shrugged, turning his lips down in a silent so what gesture. “That’s when he thought we’d betrayed him and left him for dead.”

  “And you think that’s changed?”

  “I don’t think he’s completely changed, but I think he’s coming around. He’s beginning to remember who we were before Operation Mayhem.”

  Oh how she wished she could be certain of that. Just like she wished she could finally let John out of his cell and… She shook her head. No, she couldn’t think that way. “What are you doing up this time of night anyway?”

  He chuckled again. “Just taking a walk, my legs started getting twitchy. Plus I took a nap earlier so I couldn’t sleep. I knew you’d be up so I thought I’d come keep you company.”

  Melissa crossed her arms over her chest. “And talk to John.” Those two spent more time together than any other teammate. And every time they were together something weird happened. She wasn’t sure what exactly, but something in the atmosphere in the lab changed.

  He shrugged. “Why not? He’s lonely.”

  A strange suspicion entered her mind. Half the time those two sat across from each other, staring through John’s glass cell in silence. “Hold up your hand.”

  “What?” Quantum asked.

  “Hold up your hand,” she repeated. Maybe there was something happening and she’d let preconceived notions of normal block her path. She waited patiently, studying every flicker of expression on Quantum’s scarred face as he slowly lifted his free hand in front of him.

  Hesitantly, she placed her palm over his, just like she’d done with John. She stared up at Q, waiting and watching.

  “Doc?”

  Can you hear me? She thought.

  He stared at her as if she’d grown another head. “You okay?”

  Nothing. No buzzing. No warmth. She didn’t feel anything off him other than the calluses he’d formed from lifting weights. She blew out a disgusted sigh and dropped her hand to her side. “Honestly, I think I just need to sleep.”

  He turned his hand and studied his palm, then glanced up at her over his fingertips. “Did I do something...?”

  She chuckled, relief once more seeping flooding her. “No, I swear. It’s me.”

  “Is there something wrong with my hand?” He flipped it over again, looking for something wrong.

  In a spurt of relief, she playfully slapped his hand down. “I’m going to bed. You should too.”

  He grinned again and leaned on his cane. “I will.”

  Melissa stepped around him, calling over her shoulder, “He needs sleep too, Q. Make sure you tell him that.”

  Without looking back, Melissa walked up the main stairs to her bedroom on the second story, her steps a hundred times lighter than before. She brushed her teeth, slid into a nightgown and fell into bed.

  Everything was perfectly normal. Well, except for the serum and the experiment and the physical enhancements.

  And the attraction to John.

  Melissa grabbed a pillow and buried her face in its soft cushion, groaning. As soon as was humanly possible, she had to go on a date.

  Chapter 4

  A loud blaring drug Melissa from her sleep and she shot up in bed, only to grab her head and slap blindly at her alarm clock. Once she’d shut it off, she rubbed her eyes and blinked, stiffening as she focused in on the time. Ten a.m.

  No way. She dropped the clock and grabbed her watch only to have her doubts confirmed. She fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. What time had she finally fallen asleep? Four? Five?

  From the way her head pounded it was probably well after that. She’d been unable to shut off her mind, reliving the sensations from the night with John. Even now her skin felt flushed and hot when she thought of him.

  She gave a disgusted grunt and slung her legs over the corner of the bed, heading straight into the large, luxurious shower in her suite. A cold shower was exactly what she needed. If she couldn’t turn her thoughts from the brooding soldier in her lab, she could freeze them out.

  Thirty minutes later, clean and cold and dressed in a fresh pair of slacks and sleeveless silk blouse, she hit up the kitchen, grateful it was empty, and then headed down to the lab, determined to ignore her unwitting guest and get some real work accomplished.

  She hesitated only a second at the door, slapped her key card on the electronic lock and breezed into the room, chin held high. John Dawson would not distract her from her mission. Not today.

  The moment she entered the room, however, her determination rammed into John’s ice-blue burning gaze, stopping her in her tracks.

  Her heart rate doubled. Flashes of heat shot through, making her feel as though she were holding the sun.

  Why, of all the men, did she see him as a man and not a test subject? His side effects were worse than any of the others. He’d betrayed his entire team, tried to kill them. She had all the proof she needed to pass him off as a forgone conclusion; there was too much damage. He wasn’t even human any more.
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  But then her mind flashed back to that terrifying night when he’d invaded the mansion, literally blasting through their front door, rage ripping around him—he could have killed them all. He’d truly been inhumane in that moment. Until he’d seen his daughter, Faith.

  He hadn’t been an unfeeling machine then. He’d offered up his life for hers.

  Dawson’s gaze flickered, dragging her from her memories. He leaned forward and she found herself leaning toward him in response. Like he controlled her body. Her mind tingled, that warm buzz-like feeling returned, swarming through her head. She could practically feel his fingers threading through hers. His thumb slid across the glass of his cell. A streak of warmth splashed across her palm.

  He didn’t move other than that, but she could feel him desperately reaching out to her. He seemed so alone.

  “I knew you’d be back.” Dawson’s rough voice drew her in.

  She attempted a laugh, knowing he could hear the slight tremor behind it. “Of course I would. I work here.”

  His stoic expression didn’t shift a millimeter. “So you weren’t thinking about me just now?”

  That caught her off guard. “Of course I was. You and every man in this mansion.” Stop staring at him.

  “You look nice.” He raked her body with his gaze.

  A flash of pleasure at the compliment caught her off guard and she crossed her arms, a hint of the stubbornness her sister had always accused her of surfaced and she made her way to the back of the long lab, closer to him to show him she wasn’t intimidated. “It’s called clean clothes and a shower.”

  “Yes, you are stubborn.”

  Her mouth dropped.

  “You do realize I’ve been watching you just as much as you’ve been studying me.” He gestured to the half wall of glass behind her. “I’ve watched you skip breakfast and lunch and dinner. I’ve watched you sleep sitting up in whatever chair happens to be in front of whatever computer you happen to be using. I’ve watched them rotate through your space without making so much as a dent in your work.” His smirk and voice dropped when he refenced his teammates.

  “They don’t want to keep you in here,” she said.

  “They think I’m an animal,” he snarled.

  I don’t. “They’ve all lost control before I figured out how to stabilize them. They’re just trying to help you get better.”

  Dawson’s eyelids drifted shut, slowly. He clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides.

  She gave him a second to gather himself before talking. “You could help if you would just…”

  His eyes flashed open, bright and stark in his lean face. “Give them everything they need so they can finish me off and not have to worry about dealing with their guilt for leaving a teammate behind to die?”

  “John.” She stepped closer, her hand lifting to his cell. She couldn’t help but notice the cut sinewy muscle beneath his Army green T-shirt and pants.

  His hand lifted in response. The glass seemed to disappear. He lowered his forehead to the wall, never taking his gaze from her. “I like that.”

  Her throat squeezed tight. “What?”

  “When you say my name.”

  She sucked in a breath. “I say your name all the time.”

  He slowly shook his head. “You say Dawson. Like I’m one of your soldiers. Or subjects. Not a man.”

  He was right. She had to do whatever she could to remind herself he was just a subject. Because if she didn’t, she might do something stupid. She wanted to pull away, she needed to hide her thoughts from him. Unable to do even that, she managed a shrug. “It’s habit.”

  “Bullshit.”

  His calmly uttered word dropped a bomb on her defensive shell and she yanked back from his cell, her heart thrumming, fully intending to get the hell out of the room ASAP. For whatever reason, she had no defensive mechanism with this man.

  She shouldn't have even been in here; no one was to be near Dawson alone. There was equipment in the lab that would alert her if he experienced any seizures or severe symptoms. She’d call in reinforcements to cuff him before going in to treat him, but this? She shouldn't be standing here talking to him casually.

  “I need to go.”

  “You’re scared.”

  She halted her retreat. “I’m not scared of you.”

  “Of us.”

  Her heart stuttered. “You’re crazy.”

  He glanced past her and then took a small step back, placing his hands behind his back, assuming a typical soldier stance. “Maybe.”

  His abrupt change in demeanor confused her. And then she felt it. The presence. She rotated on her heel, facing Reaper as he entered the lab. Oh shit.

  Melissa wanted to dart out around him, but his massive black-clothed frame blocked her path. His equally black eyes stared right over her at Dawson. “Dr. Averton, the rule is no one goes this close to him alone.”

  She cleared her throat, attempting to buy a little bit of time to get her brain to function again. “Reaper, he’s been in here a month now. I think we can safely move about in here. He hasn’t once attempted anything.”

  He didn’t even glance at her. “He can’t be trusted.”

  She peeked over her shoulder. Dawson hadn’t moved from his rigid stance. “Why don’t we go back out into the lab?”

  “I need to talk to him,” Reaper responded.

  “But I thought we agreed—”

  He held up his hand, halting her words mid-sentence. “You’ve had a month. He’s perfectly stable enough to have a conversation.”

  “But that’s under a very carefully controlled environment. He still has serious side effects. You know that. Migraines. Seizures. Blackouts.” She’d seen more than enough without any external stimulation, and she was more prepared than she’d wished to be for Dawson’s symptoms after seeing them so many times in Quantum.

  “We’ve all had those and we’ve all survived. We can’t wait forever.” Reaper glanced at her, his gaze dark.

  “Reaper, I haven’t given him his dose yet today,” she pressed.

  “I’m fully capable of having a word with my old team leader.” Dawson’s voice filtered strong and clear through the barrier behind her.

  A wave of tension cracked through the air. She fought the urge to groan in frustration. She had no control over either one of these men, but this was still her lab. “Fine, but I’m staying.”

  “No.”

  Both men spoke at the same time.

  “But,” she began.

  It was Dawson who spoke first, “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

  He gave a small smile, but this one had none of the warmth from before.

  “I just have a few questions,” Reaper chimed in.

  She knew she was in a losing battle. “Fine. I’ll be right out there, running numbers.” And doing her best to keep an eye on John. They both might think he was fine to talk, but elevated emotions could easily trigger physical symptoms that posed an actual threat to Dawson’s life. And for the millionth time, she didn’t understand, but she didn’t want him to hurt.

  More than likely because she had not only seen so much death already, but been a direct contributor. When Melissa initially came on with Project Mayhem as one of the research doctors, she couldn't wait to make a difference, to save soldiers’ lives. To end terrorism. But that was utterly naïve.

  She vowed to take over and fix what Dr. Winters had done to ruin these men, but it always seemed like too little too late. Melissa was one step behind, but this time she would fix these men, and she wouldn't let Dawson suffer because of what he’d done in the past.

  Reaper stood to the side, waiting on her to give them some privacy. She squared her shoulders and walked out, sparing one more glance behind her. She caught the brief flash of intensity from John and then the Reaper stepped between them, severing that connection.

  She made it to the main computer, braced her palms on the table, and took a deep breath. John wasn’t the one who was insane here�
��it was her.

  Chapter 5

  John eyed Reaper from the other end of the room, his shoulders tense, his fists balled.

  “Dawson,” Reaper said calmly.

  Dawson didn't reply. He gritted his teeth together and continued to squeeze his nails into his palms. His eyes narrowed at Reaper.

  “We thought you were dead,” Reaper planted his hands on his hips from the other side of the glass wall.

  Dawson remained calm, not allowing himself to show that Reaper’s words could have an impact on him. Even if his team did leave him for dead all those months ago—with Rainier.

  “Probably because you left me for dead.” Dawson voiced his thoughts, his knuckles turning white now. He was giving himself an even bigger headache than usual from the way he ground his teeth together.

  “No.” Reaper crossed his arms. He stared right into Dawson’s eyes, and Dawson couldn't help but remember the way it used to be. Reaper was their fearless leader. He gave them orders and they obliged because he always did what was in the best interest of the team. At least that was what they had all thought. Because a real leader wouldn't leave one of their team members to be poked, prodded, and turned into a killing machine by the most powerful man in the world. “I meant that we thought you were dead on that first mission. Rainier told us you were dead. We saw you on the table when they wheeled you away with a sheet over you.”

  Dawson stepped closer to Reaper. Could that have been true? He had never understood quite how he ended up as Rainier’s bodyguard, only that when he woke up from that overdose, his team was gone. Rainier was all he’d had at that point, and he had no choice but to trust him unless he wanted to die.

  Dawson crossed his arms and squared his shoulders now. “I don't believe you.” He glared into Reaper’s black eyes. Dawson’s neck pulsed as he questioned what the real truth was, he wouldn't let Reaper know he had any doubts. Whatever the truth, the fact remained—his team abandoned him.

  “I don't blame you,” Reaper said. “Because we were wrong—you’ve been alive all along. I get why you’re pissed. I’d be pissed if I had to spend a year with the general, too.”