by Lora Leigh
y watched with silent, avid admiration as she rose up on her knees and guided him into her body. She worked slowly, stretching to accommodate him. He lay beneath her, stomach rippling with the effort of letting her set the pace. But despite his best attempts, his hands framed her hips and he pulled her down, hard.
She grinned. “Impatient?”
“Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No. It’s . . . good.” Supporting herself on his chest, she moved on him experimentally, watching his face.
As she rode, he licked his lips, eyelids drifting to half-mast. It seemed like he was in control, except his breath came in ragged gasps. Each time she pushed down, he arched to meet her, and they found a rising rhythm. Oh God. So . . . hot. Yeah. Like that. Need spiraled into pure and perfect tension.
“It’s been so long,” he gritted out.
That was the only warning before he flipped her beneath him and caught both her wrists above her head in one big hand. Then he set the pace, driving with long, deep thrusts. Juneau wrapped her legs around him and tilted her pelvis, moaning when his strokes became more powerful. For the first time, she felt almost overwhelmed by a lover, as if his intensity might break her wide open—and not in the physical sense.
Yet unable to resist, she tightened her thighs, working her hips faster against him.
Getting there. So close now.
She stared up into his dark, tormented eyes, the dark hair falling across his brow, and she drew him down. His lips took hers as he claimed her body, his tongue gliding against hers. God, he tasted good, equal measures fervor and desperation. She’d never had anyone kiss her as if he were starving for her, and it sent her over the edge. Her pussy tightened on his cock, making him moan into her mouth, and then he arched, grinding into her.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck, Juneau.”
Recovering before he did, she held him and wouldn’t let go, even when their heartbeats slowed. His tears dampened the side of her neck, and what the hell did she say now? Part of her wanted never to let him go.
“Wow,” she said eventually.
Silas smiled down at her, dropped a kiss on her nose, and then went to dispose of the condom. Mmm. Delicious. She could barely remember feeling better than this. The world was crazy outside the bungalow, but she wouldn’t think about it tonight.
When he came back, he lay down beside her, gentled somehow. “How’d you come by your name anyway? It’s unusual, isn’t it?”
At this point, she didn’t even mind answering, though she’d told the story countless times. “I was conceived there. My mom always wanted to visit Alaska, and I guess she was really grateful my dad took her.”
He laughed softly and drew her into his arms again. Listening to the slow, steady thud of his heartbeat, she decided, Hell, yeah, the future can wait.
NINE
“I’m clear,” Finch said.
Mockingbird slumped in relief; he’d honestly never expected to hear from this agent again, after his signal went dead. But he must have ditched it in case the enemy was tracking it, too. “How?”
“I think a new power popped up on her radar. They lost me.”
Kestrel’s weakness offered their one saving grace. Sometimes he even planned for it and orchestrated a simultaneous firing of abilities among his agents to overwhelm her, so she couldn’t track any of them. Unfortunately for Finch, he hadn’t been able to coordinate anything on such short notice, so he’d been stuck, waiting and hoping. This was unexpectedly good news.
“Lie low for a while. I’m going to see what I can find out about what’s going on in their organization.”
“Roger that. No powers. I’m on vacation in Mexico.”
“Enjoy the sun.”
This part he loved. He didn’t need the keyboard. Instead, he thought about the information he wanted and it filled the screens around him. Which was why he always knew more about the Foundation activities than they did. If he didn’t work in a protected room, Kestrel would find him in a heartbeat. As it stood, she didn’t know where he was, and he preferred to keep it that way. But he had to be careful. Unlike most hackers, since he used his brain, he was susceptible to viruses that translated as physical ailments. It had taken him years to devise firewalls for his mind, and they were still imperfect.
“Shit,” he said.
Mockingbird read the lines a second time. Ecuador. According to the other data, that had to mean they were going after Silas after all, the sneaky bastard. He must’ve saved Finch’s ass, firing up . . . whatever he can do. All the more reason to get Tanager to him quickly.
He memorized the coordinates Kestrel had sent to the extraction team, and then said, “Call Tanager.” The computer complied, and in a moment, he heard Tanager’s voice.
“This better be good. I just arrived in Puerto López.”
“How? The region’s unstable.”
“I . . . persuaded a pilot to land a small plane nearby. Military base.”
That was Tanager, all right. She could convince her mark to do damn near anything, even if it was stupid, dangerous, or completely counter to his best interests. She was a great asset in the field.
“I know where your target is. Or at least where the strike team’s headed. You ready?”
“Always,” she said.
Mockingbird gave coordinates. Tanager scrawled the location; he heard the pen scratching on paper. “I’ll find someone to take me. Thanks for the info.”
“That’s my job.”
TEN
Silas roused early, a habit born of living so long on someone else’s timetable. He heard nothing now but the lap of the waves and the cry of seabirds. But something hid in that silence. A noise had woken him, but the sunrise kept its counsel. Still, his nerves prickled. Gently, he set Juneau away from him.
God, she was beautiful, but he didn’t linger. He couldn’t let her soft skin or pretty hair distract him. Something wasn’t right.
He crept outside and pulled his clothes off the line. Fortunately, they were dry and permitted him to dress quickly in the half-light. Cocking his head, he listened again. Then he heard them. Footsteps. They were trying to be quiet, but rocks covered the path leading down from the road, and it was impossible not to make some noise. Lots of men, incoming. He snatched her shorts and tank top, and retreated, trying to think, to plan.
It has to be the Foundation. They know, somehow. Though it sounded paranoid, he didn’t doubt his instincts, even if he didn’t understand why or how. They’d take him and kill her because of what she knew, what she’d seen. That, he could never allow. He’d promised to protect her, and he would—whatever the cost.
“Juneau,” he whispered. “Wake up. I need you to hide for me. There’s going to be a fight.”
She didn’t wake up groggy, unlike most people. By the time she got her feet on the floor, she was already stepping into her shorts, eyes gummy but alert. She didn’t even ask him any questions as she pulled the shirt over her head. Instead she cupped his face in her hands, laid a firm kiss on him, and said, “Be careful.”
Silas caught glimpses of them as they surrounded the house, geared in black, wearing bulletproof vests and carrying tranq guns. He surprised the first one at the patio door, but he silenced any outcry with a gesture, cutting off his oxygen. Agony flared, though this couldn’t kill him; it just made him wish he were dead. Blood vessels popped in his own eyes, sending jags of pain tearing through his skull.
He stayed away from inflicting wounds for a reason. Unlike other applications of his power, cutting people made him bleed as well. Though he could, in theory, skin someone alive, he’d take too much damage to walk away. Therefore, choking and broken bones offered the best solution, pain without actual injury.
The curse connected him with his victim, making Silas part of the hunter’s skin and bone. He felt each thrash, each spasm; it wasn’t empathy or telepathy, nothing so kind or clean. No, it was a death bond. When the other man breathed his last, the resultant reverb nearly knocked him on h
is ass.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
If there were a lot of them, the mental echo might knock him out. No. That can’t happen. If they took him, they’d terminate Juneau, and they’d never stop until they perfected his ability for use in black ops. Imagining a whole squadron of men killing in silence, without remorse, sent a cold chill through him. He just had to thresh through them, however many there were. He’d been fighting ever since he first discovered what he could do, fighting against what he might become.
Not anymore. He’d already killed to protect her. He’d do it again and again, however many times they required it of him.
Cold settled inside him as two more pushed through the back door. Silas swung around the corner to avoid the tranqs. The darts slammed into the wall, and then he took them. Twin gestures, dual focus. He’d never done that before, and anguish streaked red-black across his field of vision. These men, he didn’t choke out. He snapped their necks cleanly, as he’d sworn he’d never do again. The resultant blaze in his own spine made his eyes water, but it wouldn’t last. No damage. No broken bones. Only blood drew blood. He just had to hold on and stay alert.
How many were left? He crouched and hugged the wall, edging down the hallway. They would be coming in the front, too. Surrounding a structure was protocol for these guys. He felt shaky and nauseated from the feedback, but he forced himself to keep moving. Juneau didn’t make a sound in the closet, thank God. Silas didn’t know if he could do this, if he had to worry about her, too.
Since it wasn’t a big house, he reached the door fast. No choice. Gotta end this. He flung it open, expecting to dodge more tranqs. Instead, he found a small woman with white blond hair, cut in short, jagged strands, standing before three motionless men. They wore gear just like the others, but they’d forgotten their mission. Her voice rolled over him, sweeter than a nightingale’s song.
“You don’t want to hurt us,” she was saying softly, irresistibly. “You’re going to put down those guns, turn, and walk into the sea. Nice day for a swim, don’t you think? Then you’re going to swim until you can’t see land anymore. Once you’re out there, you’ll check out the ocean floor.”
Horror overwhelmed him. Even though she wasn’t focused on him, he felt the siren call of her voice, and he almost wanted to go with them when they took their first somnambulant steps toward the sea. Silas planted his feet and watched them go, pain pinching at his temples.
“You’re like me.”
“Nuh-uh, pal. We’re all special snowflakes . . . I’ve never seen the same ability manifest twice. Mockingbird thinks the abilities come from our unique genetic code. But if you mean I’m a former test subject, then . . .” She tapped her nose.
“Who are you?”
“Tanager will do. I’m here to extricate you, but we need to move fast, since we’ve both used our abilities at this site. Come on.”
The bounty hunters were almost at the ocean now, still shuffling like sleepwalkers. “Do you have a vehicle?”
She nodded. “It’s parked up on the road.”
“Let me go get Juneau.”
“Mockingbird didn’t say I was supposed to rescue anyone else.”
Silas spun. “It’s nonnegotiable. You take both of us, or neither. I presume you have some use for me, or you wouldn’t have come.”
The woman sighed. Her makeup looked particularly heavy in the morning light, eyes ringed in dark kohl. Her lips, too, were painted black, offering sharp contrast to her spiked platinum hair. She ran tired fingers through it and then said, “Whatever. We need to make tracks.”
He went inside at a run and found Juneau pressed up against the back of the closet. She reached for him first, letting him draw her out. But she was trembling, despite her silent bravery. He hugged her close for a moment and then stepped back.
“Come on. We’ve got a ride out of here.”
“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”
He shook his head. “Not now. If this woman is telling the truth, we can expect more hunters . . . and soon.”
“Hunters? I thought they were looters, because of the quake. What—”
“Juneau. Do you trust me?”
“I—yeah. If you were going to hurt me, you’ve had more than one shot, and you’ve been nothing but kind.”
Kind. Most men would be offended by that word, but it wrapped around his heart like barbwire. She saw something in him nobody had, at least not for years. Not since before he was taken.
“Then let’s go. I promise you’ll find out more after we get moving.”
Wordless, Tanager led the way back to the road, where a driver waited in a battered Jeep. He looked military from his bearing to his haircut, but his eyes held that hypnotic shine as he turned to watch them cresting the rise. His hands still rested on the wheel, like he hadn’t moved since she got out of the vehicle. Creepy.
“I found my friends,” the woman said. “Now you need to drive us to Ayampe. There’s nothing more important to you than our safety. Understand?”
“Sí.”
So her power works across language barriers. Interesting.
Tanager got in front, and he helped Juneau in back and then swung up himself. The Jeep jerked into motion. This early, the wind was cool. She laced her fingers through his. The trembling had stopped, but she still seemed spooked—and she hadn’t even seen the bodies—or the lemming men drowning themselves.
“What happens once we get to Ayampe?” he asked Tanager.
“I find us a pilot and get us the hell out of Ecuador.”
“Doesn’t that mean using your ability? I thought you said we couldn’t. Isn’t it dangerous?”
“It would be for you, since you don’t know how to block Kestrel. As long as we stay on the move and get back to base, which is built to conceal us, we’ll be fine.”
“Before today, I haven’t done . . . that in more than five years.”
“Well, you were detained, weren’t you? And hiding your light under a bushel.” She winked at him over her shoulder. “Clever boy.”
Silas set his jaw. “Regardless, I’m not likely to recidivate if I have a choice. I’m more interested in making amends.”
“Whatev. Talk to Mockingbird about that.”
Juneau glanced between them, her eyes widening. “She’s . . . like you.”
“I wish people would stop saying that,” Tanager muttered. “I’m starting to feel not special, and that makes me bitchy.”
“What are you going to do with him?” Silas asked, indicating the driver. “Won’t he tell the Foundation everything, if they find him?”
If she expects me to let her kill some random guy—
Tanager shrugged. “He’ll remember exactly what I tell him. He won’t say anything about us. As far as he knows, he decided to take a sudden vacation.”
Damn powerful gift.
“Where are you taking us?” Juneau spoke in a low, firm voice, despite the fact that she had to be seriously freaked out.
“I didn’t want you,” Tanager told her. “The big guy insisted.”
Silas sat forward. “That doesn’t answer the question. I’d like to know, too.”
“I’m not telling you where. I’ll tell you what. You’ve been tapped to join the resistance. If you decline the invite, after speaking to Mockingbird, I’ll give you the story I want you to remember, and leave you somewhere safe. After that, you’re on your own. But the Foundation has your scent now, and they’ll never stop looking. So you’re better off with us.”
“The Foundation?” Juneau frowned, glancing at Silas for explanation. “This sounds like an episode of The X-Files I saw once.”
Shit. It’s time I told her everything.
So there, in the breezy backseat of an old Jeep, he did.
ELEVEN
None of this seemed real. Several hours later, Juneau glanced around the “safe house” and wondered what the hell she was doing here. The safe house was more of a warehouse, all random junk,
bare swinging bulbs, and echoing, cavernous space. This shit had nothing to do with her. She needed to call her family and let them know she was okay, maybe go visit before she took her next overseas job. She no longer kept a place in the U.S. because she didn’t linger long enough stateside for it to be worth it, and her mother enjoyed when she came home, however brief it might be.
But she glanced across the table at the big man, nursing a cup of coffee, and her heart did a funny dance in her chest. Maybe it was stupid to think he needed her, even a little, but she’d noticed the way his onyx eyes sought her, as if reassuring himself she hadn’t left. It wouldn’t hurt to stay awhile, if they’d let her make a call.
“Tanager,” she said. “Is there a phone I can use?”
“Sure. Back office. Dial nine first.”
“Who pays for this place?” Silas asked.
“Not us. Mockingbird keeps the power and phone on, charges it to the parent company that owns the property.”
Christ. Juneau stood and left what had likely been the break room, crossing the dark floor with its looming ceiling. Broken windows adorned the walls like sharp teeth, casting shadows from the swinging bulbs. She stifled a shiver as she passed into a darker hallway. There were no light fixtures back here, so she had to feel her way along the walls. She slid her fingers through something tacky, and she shuddered.
Inside the office, she found the switch. Radiance flickered overhead, highlighting the general wreckage of the room. The phone was ancient, a rotary dial—the kind her grandmother had leased from the phone company—and it sat on the floor, right beside the jack. Whoever these people were, they didn’t travel first class.
Juneau knelt and dialed; it took way longer when you had to wait for the wheel to finish spinning to input the next number. But the sound quality was good as the call went through. Her mother picked up on the third ring; she sounded faintly out of breath. Maybe she’d been outside in the yard or sitting on the porch.
“Hi, Mom. It’s me.”
“Junie!” Nobody but Melva Bright ever called her that. Right now, she didn’t mind. “God, we’ve been so worried about you, ever since we heard about the quake. Your brother’s been calling all over Ecuador, trying to get news.”
“Jack?” she guessed. He was the lawyer, better suited to getting information out of people than Joseph, the surgeon.
“Who else? Where are you? Are you safe?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure.” That much was true. “I got a lift with some other survivors, and we’re making our way out of the country. I’ll come home as soon as I can. Things are . . . unbelievable here.”
“I can only imagine. But thank God you found a phone to let us know you’re all right.”
“I have to go. There are others waiting to use it. Give my love to Jack and Joe.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
After she disconnected, she sat for long moments, holding the phone as if she’d lost her lifeline. Her mother’s voice lent the situation an illusion of normalcy, but clearly things weren’t. Taking a deep breath, she headed back to the others. She entered silently in accordance with Tanager’s gesture and propped herself against the wall. The other woman perched on the edge of a worktable, swinging her legs.
At first, she didn’t know why she had to be quiet, and then the laptop crackled. A ray of energy shot from it—and holy shit—she’d never seen anything like it, outside the movies. A small, holographic image appeared, glowing blue. Surely this was fake; this thing couldn’t actually talk. But the figure turned as if acclimating itself, and focused on Silas. It didn’t have features—didn’t look like any particular person—it was just an avatar.
“I see Tanager got you out.” The voice was unquestionably male, but it came out with electronic interference, different than a voice scrambler. This was a new thing altogether.
“I always get my man.” The blond woman grinned, showing straight, white teeth. She’d fit right in at clubs where Juneau had partied in college; everyone wore black and too much eyeliner. Leather and metal spikes, preferred attire.
“That’s why I sent you,” the hologram said to her and then added to Silas, “I imagine you have questions.”
“To say the least. Who are you? For that matter, who’s she?”
“I’m Mockingbird. You already know Tan. We don’t use real names, even in private, in case one of us is captured. We’re both part of a resistance movement, working covertly against the private organization that created us.”
Whoa. To be honest, Juneau hadn’t given full credit to the big guy’s story. He’d seemed to want to unload, and it seemed churlish to deny him that opportunity, even if she didn’t buy what he said. Although it was damned hard to explain what he could do otherwise, but her worldview didn’t allow for secret labs and Mengele-style human experiments. That was way darker than she’d wanted to believe. However, now she’d watched Tanager Jedi-mind-trick two men, using the power of her voice alone. In conjunction with Silas breaking people with his brain, she had to admit the evidence was compelling. The Chinese curse May you live in interesting times had come true with a vengeance. Shit didn’t get more interesting.
Which presented an interesting question. If they were a covert operation, what did they do with normals? A cold chill surged through her. She didn’t want to die for the uber-cliché of knowing too much. It might be her imagination, but Tanager watched her with greater than necessary focus, given she wasn’t doing anything.
Surely Silas wouldn’t let them hurt her. If he can stop it, a small voice said. If Tanager works her siren mojo on him, he may not be able to resist. Come to think of it, she’d only seen the ability work on men. Maybe it wouldn’t work on Juneau, and if so, she could defend herself. Die trying, anyway.
“And what do you want with me?” he asked.
“For you to come work for us.”
Silas laughed, but the sound faded as he realized nobody else shared his amusement. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly. We could use a warrior to help us take out their hunters.”
His black eyes turned