by Black, Regan
Jameson and Callahan had the skills and obvious practice with this sort of thing. And more power to them. She vowed if they got her out of this alive, she'd give them the key and contacts and tell them to say hello when they found her father.
Jameson crept back, and using only hand signals, told Callahan something that didn't make the man happy. The plan he laid out in plain, whispered English didn't make her happy. Jameson's scowl implied he didn't approve either, but unless she wanted to completely burn their operation, one designed to help her father, she didn't have much choice. Callahan was already stripping off his uniform shirt to reveal the dark fabric she recognized as a stealth suit underneath.
Shoulders back, she walked to the door and glanced over as Jameson and Callahan flickered out of sight. Amazing things, stealth suits.
As directed, she retrieved the device Callahan had placed on the office door when he'd caught her and Jameson in the middle of that kiss...
She put that thought away, saving it to contemplate during the next inquiry. Because going out onto the deserted edge of campus as bait was surely a one way ticket back to the judgment of the Five.
* * *
Callahan knew better than to ask Jameson to do anything other than 'rescue' the girl. While he'd do his duty and follow any order, Callahan knew the Soldier's mind would be on Mira.
Jameson probably wouldn't be convinced, but leading this op while his wife was carrying their first baby wasn't Callahan's idea of good timing. But Dr. Luther's technology had saved his ass more than once in the field. And his wife had been patient, logical, and annoyingly understanding when he got tapped for the job.
Hoping her understanding held out if he got himself lost in the tunnels under the campus, he brought her face to mind and told her he loved her. Then he headed into the tunnel with the confidence that with his wife's special gift, if he did get lost, she'd find him.
* * *
Jameson about couldn't stand it. Watching Mira walk out there into the cold, the dark, and the danger was the hardest thing ever. At least the stealth suit hid most of his fidgeting. When the access door opened and shut a moment later as the CO left to pursue whoever was in the tunnel, Jameson bolted after Mira.
There was a light snow falling, which helped him pick up her trail, but made the stealth suit less effective. He felt like the invisible man dusted with powdered sugar when he saw the way the fat white flakes outlined his arm before melting away.
He'd tracked plenty of bad guys before he'd even been introduced to the biometric miracle of Dr. Luther's stealth suit and he put all those accumulated skills to use now.
Mira was supposed to walk back toward the populated part of campus so if they closed in on her too quickly, she had options to prevent her capture. A capture he knew she believed was inevitable. A capture he refused to allow.
He'd give Callahan an earful about using her for bait later. The tactical side of him understood the CO's decision, but the previously unknown emotional side of him wanted to rip something apart. So when he spotted the two men hassling her, he grinned at the perfect outlet for his pent up frustration.
Sound carried on the clear, cold air, but as he closed in, Jameson didn't worry overmuch about their debate about handling 'it' here. He focused on handling them.
He changed his stride and let them hear his footfalls as he approached. He smiled when Mira used the distraction to throw an elbow and twist free of the bastard holding her.
Good girl.
He threw an uppercut into the diaphragm of closest opponent, followed up with a knee strike into his face as he doubled over. Blood spattered across the snowy path, then poured through the guys hands as he fell to the ground.
Trusting Mira to run for campus security as planned, he turned, ready to plant a boot to the knee of the other guy. Instead he took a hard punch to the kidneys.
Damn snow.
He let the momentum of the punch carry him, and just managed to escape the kick to the gut while he was down. "If it's dirty you want, I can do that." Jameson grabbed the closest ankle and rolled into him, forcing his knee to give. "Aww. You scream like a girl."
He was ready to cuff them to the nearest lamp post when the first guy rolled to his feet, bouncing like a boxer. "Show yourself."
"What the hell?" The blood was only abstract art in the snow and the nose looked like it had never met a knee. He didn't know what was happening, so he decided to be grateful for the additional workout.
The guy kicked at the snow, clearly trying to get a line on Jameson, so Jameson threw a roundhouse kick into the guy's ribs, just to make his position clear.
To his continued amazement, the guy with the busted leg was back up and, aside from a limp, he looked willing to go a few more rounds.
Fine by him. He hoped Mira didn't find security too quickly as he set out to tune these two up right.
Another day, another place, he'd just pop out the damn disc and play fair, but he wasn't in the mood. He moved in close, close enough to know the first guy liked spearmint and landed a punch to his rib cage.
He ducked and spun away, tossing Mr. Limp into Mr. Mint. They scrambled up, swore in his general direction and lunged as if they had radar.
He absorbed the flurry, eagerly rose to the challenge, and rode the adrenaline. A punch in one direction, a knee strike or kick in the other, he battled on, consistently gaining an edge only to have them stumble back into the fray.
He wasn't sure who was who after a moment, but he put everything he had behind a kick to the head and hoped that would keep one of them down long enough to finish this.
But the one standing landed his own lucky punch, knocking the stealth disc right out of his mouth.
"Shit," Jameson muttered, the copper tang of blood pooling behind his lip.
"We'll be going now," his opponent announced, sneering at a point over Jameson's shoulder.
Jameson saw the kick coming and countered with a punch to the bastard's balls.
The asshole collapsed in a heap and Mira popped out of the shadows, doing something to his head that knocked him out.
"Where's security?"
"On the way. I hit a panic button on the next building."
"But – "
"I couldn't let you deal with this alone."
Jameson glanced at the other guy, also taking a nap in the snow now. "But?"
"Do you have cuffs or ties or something?"
He nodded, pulled the zip ties out of a pocket. They dragged the unconscious pair to a lamp post and cuffed them around it.
Jameson started to pat them down, looking for IDs, but Mira stopped him. "Come on." She nodded toward the blue flashing light of security closing in on them.
"We need to know who they're with."
"I know that already. Let's get out of here."
She was right, Callahan would have his head if he blew the mission after all the hours they'd put in. He thought of the stealth disc and the unlikely event that anyone would actually find it, or know what they had if they did.
"Without the suit, it won't matter," she hissed, dragging at his arm.
"You read minds too?" They hurried away, toward the more populated area of campus, where his boots and her shoes would blend into the chaos of so many other footsteps. He tapped his comm link, but the only reply was static. Weird, but he could give the full report in person when they returned.
* * *
Mira figured they looked just like the rest of the students huddled against the cold on their way from one building to another. If no one noticed Jameson's battered face.
They had less time than he knew, for though the Enforcers weren't immune to the nerve block she'd used to knock them out, their systems would overcome it faster. They might already be giving descriptions and their cover story to the campus police.
Jameson had the sort of everyman features Special Forces preferred, but no man could blend with anyone after the beating he'd taken. And she knew the enforcers would have gone for the b
ody's most vulnerable systems.
She slid a glance at Jameson, more than a little impressed he was still functioning. Adrenaline, and possibly the cold, had to be helping. "We need to get you a coat."
"And probably a face mask."
"Let's go with a scarf."
He choked on a laugh and put his arm around her shoulders.
She enjoyed the contact for all the wrong reasons, but she used it to take a quick assessment.
"I'll be fine," he promised.
"You read minds too?"
"We'll just take the long way back to HQ."
"Sure." She spotted a bench outside the student union. "Can we stop for just a second?"
He grimaced. "Under a bright light, Mira?"
"Just for a second." She dusted the snow off the seat, and felt him shiver as he gingerly settled beside her. "There's no cold weather version of this?" She fingered the black fabric of the stealth suit.
"Not so far."
"Too bad. Maybe this will warm you up." Gingerly, she pressed her lips to his. The sweet contact turned into a bolt of hot lust and shot straight to her belly. She struggled to keep her healer's mind on the task. Stroking her finger over the split in his brow, she felt it mend. Desire swelled and surged even as his swollen lip retracted to its normal size.
"Jameson," she whispered it like a prayer.
"Call me Brent." He tugged her flush against him, his embrace a cage she didn't want to escape. Her nerves sizzled in response and she sighed when he shifted, trailing hot kisses over her neck and back up to whisper in her ear. "Security is coming this way. Giggle." His fingers burrowed into her coat and found her ribs and she complied automatically. "Convincing," he whispered, resting his forehead to hers.
"I am a compliant sort." His slow, wicked smile was as dangerous to her peace of mind as his kisses. She focused on his healed mouth.
"Why don't I believe you?"
She shrugged, nudging him back with a hand to his chest. Mistake! The solid wall of muscle made her want to jump him right here on the bench, to hell with safety or propriety.
Thankfully, he stood up, pulling her along with him and she let him lead the way back. They didn't talk and in the silence, Mira realized she wasn't the least bit tired from healing him.
Interesting. She supposed her own adrenaline was running high.
To anyone watching, they must have looked like any other couple out for a stroll during a date. They just wandered in no apparent direction, until Jameson paused near a dark doorway and pulled her into another embrace.
She tipped her face up, expecting a kiss, but he was all business this time. She couldn't see what he did with his hands and the door, but she appreciated the relief and the warmth of the vestibule when he pulled her inside, away from the bitter icy wind of the Chicago night.
"Wait here."
Mira hated the idea of being alone, of letting him out of her sight for even a moment. Feeling out of her depth, uncomfortable with this need for him pooling inside, she focused on the building itself. Not the most elaborate architecture, it didn't quite blend with the aesthetics of the rest of campus, and yet it felt familiar.
Why?
Inexplicably drawn, she followed him out of the vestibule and turned, knowing there would be a lounge on her right connected by a pass-through counter to a square kitchen. She had a flash of her mother setting a plate of cookies on that pass-through. What is this place?
"Mira." She looked up to see Callahan watching her with blatant curiosity from the stairwell. "My guy looks pretty good. The comm tech must have misread the biofeedback."
She shrugged. "He fought well."
"Sure. I taught him."
Mira knew he was waiting for her to elaborate, but she just couldn't do it. Was she protecting Jameson or herself? She didn't know the answer.
"Come on. We're up here."
She trailed him up two flights and down the hallway, peeking into open suites along the way. It was an old dorm, once built for families. How did she know that? She followed Callahan to a room recently re-purposed for banks of computers, monitors, and other gadgetry she couldn't name. Jameson watched a dot traveling across a grid flickering on the only live monitor.
"Where is everyone?" She expected a bigger crowd.
"I let them go. This site's a bust."
She looked closely, but didn't see any signs of trauma. Of course she couldn't be sure unless she touched him and she didn't feel much like touching Callahan.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I screwed up," Jameson muttered, his eyes on the monitor.
"His fight raised too many red flags," Callahan confirmed.
The fight wasn't because of Jameson. She'd screwed this up. It was on her to fix it.
"We'll have to find another way to get your dad out of there."
"He's still in the lab? You saw him?"
"No, couldn't get close enough to see him. But yeah, I followed the red dots in the tunnels straight to the lab where he's working. There was still plenty of action, which I take to mean he's still there."
"Then you can't give up."
"Not my call."
Mira wasn't sure she believed him. "You're angry." He arched a brow, daring her to go down this road.
"I get it." She was angry too. At her order for driving out her dad. At the Five for sending enforcers to drag her back to that ridiculous inquiry. How had they found her so fast?
"You had comm gear during the op?" She assumed the eye roll meant 'affirmative'. "Do you assign any other biometric gear? Other than the stealth suit?"
"No. Go home, Mira."
"Thanks, but I don't have one." She wasn't counting the room at Leanore's. "Can you confirm my cell card's clean?"
"Sure. If you promise to leave."
"I will. Eventually." A frightening theory was blooming in her head. "Can I make a call?"
"Anything for you, dear."
Mira kept from snarling, barely, as she accepted his cell card and used it to connect to Leanore's. Kevin answered.
"Hey, it's Mira. Did Stacy make it back okay?"
"Yeah, she and Leanore came in just after you left. Along with some suit that met them at the hospital. She looks good. Hey do you –"
"A suit?" Mira cut in, ignoring the long look from Callahan and an altogether different look from Jameson.
"He said he was writing up the accident report. No one mentioned you."
Mira didn't believe it. It was too tidy. "Thanks, Kevin." She disconnected, accepted her verified clean cell card, and mentally sorted through the options. "Can you scan me for any sort of tracking device?"
"What's the problem?" Jameson asked while Callahan reached for the scanner.
"I wrecked this op, I'm trying to figure out just how I did it."
"You were clean when we got you out," Callahan said.
"I was sedated."
"When? By who?"
"For security." Callahan's defense squashed Jameson's curiosity.
"Scan me anyway."
"Whatever." Callahan did as she asked and when the scanner sounded off, detecting the tracking device she'd suspected, both men gaped at her.
"If you knew about this why the hell –"
"I didn't know until I recognized the enforcers Jameson fought with. I thought I was distracting some of the crew holding my dad."
"So did I. Enforcers." Callahan stared at her. "I'll be damned."
"You knew that pair?"
She nodded at Jameson's question. "They were part of the security detail that hauled me back home. They must have implanted the trace sometime during my stay. Possibly earlier. I could explain the bio-, neuro-reactions and reasons behind why it didn't show up when they sedated me."
"God, spare me," Callahan said making a sign of the cross at her. "What do you want to do?"
"That depends on your goal here." Once more the single eyebrow lifted. "You may be shut down, but I'm a free agent."
"Bullshit."
"Well, there is a rumor my country needs me."
This time he offered a colorful assessment of her assets and abilities, but the arrogant brow turned into a moody scowl. "Not until you find someone to disable that bastard marker."
"I've got the jammer going," Jameson said, though he kept his face on the dot traveling once more across his monitor.
"Let me get this thing out and then I can go in and get my dad."
"It won't be that simple," Jameson protested.
Callahan cut him off. "Let her get that thing out and then we'll talk." He turned back to Mira. "What do you need?"
"A little privacy."
"Plenty of that. Pick a room."
"Fine. And a jar or container. In case it comes out in tact," she clarified.
Callahan glanced around, opted for a small metal tin of mints. Dumping out the contents, he handed it to Mira. "Best I've got."
She accepted it and left, not missing the worried tone when Jameson asked what she meant by 'in case'.
She wasn't about to tell them exactly how dangerous this sort of a maneuver could be. Her motivation to protect those around her would have to be enough, would have to be a beacon to follow back to consciousness if the device reacted poorly to her attempt to remove it.
She wouldn't put such a thing past the order. Where and why had they gone so far afield from the original mandate to help others? No, the healers couldn't deal in miracles all the time. Yes, the number of true healers was dwindling, an effect of a sheltered life and micromanaged community. She knew from experience, from being out here and living in the wider world, that practice, good will, desire, and training could improve any inherent skill.
Mira caught her reflection in the mirror mounted to the back of the suite door and studied her face. Not the face of a radical, and yet the elders of her order considered her just that.
"Moldy old hypocrites," she said aloud, wondering if they could hear her too, or if they just followed her every movement. The elders of her order were capable of all kinds of bio-based advances. Which meant it wasn't going to be comfortable to extract.