False Match

by Lynne Silver

“You want to do this now?”

  “Why not? No time like the present. Never put off to tomorrow what you can do today.”

  “Stop throwing aphorisms at me. Let me get my kit.” She stood and reached into an upper cabinet with white laminate doors. She’d barely had a chance to unpack all the equipment the Program had ordered for her. The needles and rubber gloves were still in sealed cardboard boxes. It took a few minutes, but she finally had all the necessary tools.

  He held perfectly still as she wiped his arm then drew some blood. He held the cotton ball over the puncture wound and grinned as she put an X-Men Band-Aid over the tiny bloody spot. “Luca’s Band-Aids?”

  “Actually, they’re mine.” Though her son Luca liked the bandages also.

  He laughed. “Oh I get it. X-Men, you play with genes.”

  “Very smart, now let me take a look.” The room got quiet as she took the small sample and bent over the microscope. She worked in silence for a while until Luca, her darling four-year-old, burst in the room, stopping to do an elaborate high-five dance with Chase, then leapt onto her lap, shoving her notes in a heap on the floor. “Mommy!”

  “Luca, is it lunchtime already?” She squeezed her arms around her little boy as hard as she dared without injuring him. She breathed in the precious scent of baby shampoo and little-boy sweat. He’d been playing hard. “What’ve you been up to, kiddo?”

  This was a good part of being at the Program campus. She had her son with her. No, it was more than a good part, it was a great part. The very best part. Seeing Luca sleep at night, hugging him whenever she wanted meant everything to her. Even the little things such as cutting his meat at meals were glorious. The last year had nearly killed her emotionally, only being allowed an hour a day for visits.

  “Emma took me to play soccer with some other kids. There’s a little girl named Kylie. She’s a baby. She’s three.”

  She looked to where Emma, another new inhabitant of the Program who’d also been a captive of Paulson, hovered in the door. ‘Thank you,” she mouthed and Emma ducked out of the room after smiling warmly at Chase, who reciprocated.

  “I’m the biggest boy here, Mommy.”

  “Are you?” She didn’t correct him that he was the oldest child. Not the biggest. At least not for long. The sperm donor she’d selected as Luca’s father was only five feet ten inches. Factoring in her petite height, he only had a twenty percent likelihood of growing taller than six feet. At least according to her most recent calculations.

  “Mommy, can you come play now?”

  “Soon,” she promised. “I have to finish a little work for Mr. Stanton and Commander Shepard.” She deliberately left off Doctor Wise’s name. Luca adored the commander but wasn’t as enamored with the colder, older Doctor Wise.

  “And then can we go to Disney World?”

  From across the room, Chase choked back a laugh.

  She wrapped her arms around Luca’s shoulders and lifted him for another hug. “Soon, sweetheart.” She never should’ve made promises she didn’t have the power to keep. When they’d been held captive under Doctor Paulson for the year, she’d entertained Luca by talking about all the wonderful things they’d do when they finally left Paulson’s evil fertility clinic. Parenting mistake number one. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. She’d read all the parenting books. She should’ve known better. But the parenting books didn’t exactly cover what to do in a yearlong hostage situation.

  Luca’s face fell into a pout. “Kylie’s been to Disney. She likes the princesses.” His tone made it clear what he thought of that.

  “Not you, baby, right?”

  Luca sat taller on her lap. “Not me. I like the roller coasters.”

  She smiled and brushed a loving hand over his scalp. The child had never been on a coaster in his life. But who was she to disillusion him?

  “Rock on, kid. You got good taste,” Chase said. “Anyone else ready for lunch? I could eat a cow.”

  Luca giggled and slid off her lap to grab Chase’s hand. Samara’s heart thumped as she thanked a higher being that Luca’s trust in grown-ups and the world at large hadn’t been shattered by his year with Paulson. He’d been relatively sheltered and treated nicely. Other than having to sleep in a separate wing of the complex from her, he hadn’t fully understood they were prisoners. Not her, she’d borne the brunt of the captivity trauma. But she’d bear anything for her son.

  She put her notebook aside and stood. “Lunchtime, but then I’m meeting with Commander Shepard after lunch. Luca, you’re going to play at Kylie’s again.”

  He released Chase’s hand and turned to her. Fear coated his expression. “But you’re not leaving, right, Mommy? You’re staying. I can come see you anytime I want? Right, Mommy?”

  She knelt and opened her arms to her son, who practically bowled her backward with his enthusiastic hug. “Anytime, Luca.” She clasped his tiny head to her shoulder and blinked back tears. She deliberately didn’t look up at Chase looming over them like a menacing shadow. Let him think she babied her son. She didn’t care. Luca was her business, and hers alone.

  Luca pushed his way out of her embrace and turned as if he hadn’t regressed to a clingy toddler and dashed ahead, shouting to some of his newly made grown-up friends. Whatever gene she lacked in social skills, Luca had it in spades.

  She let her gaze follow her son for a minute then started walking after him.

  “You’re good with him.”

  She turned toward Chase who’d waited silently for her.

  She nodded, but didn’t explore the unexpected compliment. Sometimes it felt she would crack open to become a seething mass of emotion if she let even a little out.

  “After the year he’s had, he needs stability and unconditional love. You’re giving him what he needs,” he said.

  She froze and narrowed her eyes at the tall soldier, not sure she recognized this serious man lecturing her on parenting. Uncomfortable, she pushed past him and marched toward the dining hall.

  Chase folded his arms across his chest and dared Samara to respond to him. He half hoped she would. He’d like nothing better than to poke some holes in her armor. He’d meant what he’d said about her parenting. He wished his mother had been half as strong.

  But she hadn’t been, and he’d had to learn to cope on his own. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d found a way. He smiled down at the back of the woman who practically seethed electricity toward him. Let her. He could handle it.

  She had no idea he wanted to run his hands through her stick-straight hair and muss it until it went wild or untuck her prim blouse from her slacks. Doctor Jones was wearing borrowed clothes, yet she owned them with a grace and quiet dignity that made him want to ruffle her up.

  He wondered what she’d be like in clothes of her choosing. He’d know soon enough. He’d sat looking over her shoulder yesterday as she’d visited a few websites and ordered enough clothes to replace the ones left behind. All boring colors and sensible materials. He’d really tried not to stare when she’d ordered undergarments and lingerie. She’d ordered several boring white or taupe bras and cotton panties in six packs. Not a bit of lace or thong among the bunch. But he did know she was a 34D. Little Miss—make that Doctor—Jones was hiding two delectable secrets behind that prissy blouse of hers.

  He bet she hated her large chest, if the bras she ordered were any indication. Cleavage minimizing, with words like support and coverage in the descriptions. Blech. Give him push-up bras and wardrobe malfunctions any day.

  On a hot August day like today, there was no need for formality. She could be wearing short shorts and a tiny, cleavage-revealing tank top. Look at him. Well, his shorts weren’t short. Low-riding cargos that hadn’t seen the inside of a washing machine in a while and SpongeBob tee. It was clean at least, if you ignored the tiny holes under his armpit.

  “Thank you for the compliment about my parenting,” she finally said, turning back with arms folded across her 34Ds. “Have you had much exper
ience with children?”

  He shrugged. “I may not be a parent, but I’ve been a kid who…” Whoa, not going there. Especially with Ms. Uptight Doctor.

  “A kid who…” she prompted.

  “Nothing.” Now it was his turn to use his height advantage to stride ahead. In her dainty heels and lack of nine inches on him, she couldn’t hope to keep up. “Let’s go eat,” he said loudly enough to let her know the moment was gone.

  He kept his gait slow and easy as Samara stood behind him, but the click of her heels on the industrial floor told him she was finally following. It took another minute or two to make it into the cafeteria where Luca already had a tray and was sweet-talking Marlena, the lunch lady, into two pieces of cake. Samara smoothly foisted the tray from her kid and put the extra cake back. “Nice try, kiddo.” She then proceeded to fill the tray with the healthier lunch options.

  The large light-filled room buzzed with conversation and laughter bouncing off the wood floor as it usually did at mealtimes. Since it was summer, the college-aged kids were home, making it even louder. Most would be gone by the end of the week, and things would quiet down.

  Chase followed behind them, scooping up the returned cake, which he planned on sharing with Luca, two servings of roast chicken and a small side salad. His appetite was finally back to normal. After the beating he’d taken a few weeks ago when investigating Paulson’s clinic, he was still recovering, and his normal eating habits had been off. But then if he was back at normal health, he wouldn’t be on guard duty for Doctor Jones. He’d be out in the field somewhere. He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

  Once his tray was loaded he eyed the available seats and made his way to a four-seater table with cream-colored top, already partially occupied.

  “What are you doing?” Samara asked with suspicion and disdain dripping from her words, as he plunked his gray plastic tray down across from hers.

  “Chase,” Luca crowed happily.

  “Eating with you. What does it look like?”

  “Your guard duty doesn’t require you to eat with us,” she said, busily slicing a bright-red apple for Luca. “I’m obviously not going to do anything suspicious in full view of everyone here.” She swept her arm in a wide arc, indicating the clusters of other soldiers eating.

  He didn’t think she’d ever do anything dangerous. Period. But that was for Shep to decide. No, he didn’t have to eat with her, but she’d been the most interesting option. He didn’t bother responding and slowly sank into the molded wood chair and picked up his fork, deliberately taking a large bite of salad. Let her try to move him. He outweighed her, outranked her and out-talled her. Wait, that wasn’t a word. Whatever, he was taller.

  “Stanton.” Gavin called him from the adjacent table. He didn’t overtly question why Chase wasn’t sitting with his usual crew, but he did throw a questioning look at Doctor Jones.

  He shrugged and kept chewing the crisp lettuce with Ranch dressing. They ate the rest of the meal in total silence, punctured only by childish observations from Luca.

  “What’s on tap for the afternoon?” he asked when only a few bites of food remained on their plates.

  She wiped her mouth daintily with her burgundy cloth napkin then repeated the process on Luca. “Back to the lab. Unless you’ll take me off campus.”

  “Nope,” he said, but he smiled at her to lessen the sting. “You’re stuck on campus for now.”

  “I know. Unfortunately,” she muttered. She obviously understood she didn’t have much choice in the matter. Hell, if she had a choice, she’d be eating fluffy, sticky cotton candy with Luca on Main Street, USA. Or not. Maybe the healthy doctor would say no to sweets even at the happiest place on earth. She was too uptight. Luca would need someone like him to go with them to make sure he had the proper amount of sugar before riding the craziest rides.

  His brain did a hiccup at the image that conjured up. Him and Doctor Jones taking a trip like a family. Yeah, freaking, right. Never gonna happen.

  For one, she hated him and two, the feeling was mutual. Well, not mutual exactly. He didn’t hate any woman. They were too soft and too sexy to elicit an emotion like hate. But Doctor Jones wasn’t good for his equilibrium. Every second in her presence was a reminder of everything he wanted to be but might have taken away if it turned out he was not truly enhanced. Eating lunch with her suddenly seemed like a bad idea. He picked up his tray with only a few bites remaining and moved over to Gavin’s table with a muttered, hasty explanation about discussing a new weapon on the market.

  *

  “It’s like you thought, boss. They took her to America.”

  Doctor Paulson gripped the black handset tighter, though it made his arthritic fingers ache. He didn’t want to hear his target was in America, in a virtual vault and safe from him. “Is she living on the Program grounds?”

  “Yes. Hang on,” Brian said. Paulson could hear his voice in the fuzzy background. “Oi! Piss off. I’ll take two parking spots iffin I want to.”

  He sighed and prayed for patience. But at the wrong end of senior citizenship, he didn’t have much patience for waiting. If they didn’t get Doctor Samara Jones back, it would be a quick wait to his death. He’d made a deal with the devil, and now it was time to pay up. He chuckled without humor. For someone touted as a brilliant man in his youth, he’d certainly behaved foolishly in his old age. He’d risked everything for money. Stupid, when he remembered the old saying that you take nothing with you into death.

  What was he going to do with millions of dollars in his bank account? He didn’t have any children, so there was no one to leave his money to. If Brian thought there was a chance to be named his heir, he had no doubt he’d face the wrong end of a gun someday. More than likely a pillow. A coroner would see no reason for suspicious death if a man his age suddenly stopped breathing one night.

  “I’m back,” Brian suddenly said.

  “Try not to get yourself arrested,” he said mildly. “We’re in enough trouble with the British authorities. We don’t need the American police on our trail also.”

  Brian snorted. “As if. I got through customs with no cock-ups. They ain’t looking for us here.”

  “But it wouldn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out who you are if you were brought in for something as silly as fighting in public or a speeding ticket.”

  “Fine, whatever, boss. Back to the chit. Want me to break in and grab her one night? No kid this time. Can’t carry two.”

  Paulson remembered the tight security on the Program compound. It had been a fortress back when he’d lived there, and he could only imagine it was even tighter now. “No. Don’t. You’ll get caught and tortured for information.”

  “You think I can’t take ’em.” Brian’s indignity bled through the phone lines.

  “I’d guess there to be more than fifty enhanced soldiers living on the compound. Maybe you could take on one or two. But not fifty.”

  “Fine.” A curt concession. “What should I do? Sit around and twiddle my thumbs?”

  “Watch the gate. She’ll have to leave sometime. Doctor Jones will refuse to be kept prisoner there, and they’ll be unwilling to offer a coercive incentive.” He shifted the phone to his other ear, remembering he’d been willing to coerce Doctor Jones to his clinic in the form of kidnapping her son. No doubt Commander Shepard wouldn’t be willing to go that far.

  “Follow her wherever she goes,” he said. “If the opportunity presents itself, take her then. But have an exit plan in mind. How will you carry a protesting, possibly screaming woman through a public place?”

  Brian chuckled, and it made even his spine tingle. “Oh we got a way. We’re not too far from the ocean. Just thirty minutes from Baltimore, a harbor town. Met a gent there the other day who said he’d take us on board, with any cargo, no questions asked for the right price.”

  “Excellent. How’s your new partner working out?”

  “He don’t speak no English. Just jibberish.”r />
  “Arabic, Brian. I’d recommend you learn a few words.”

  “Whatever. Gotta go.”

  “Keep me informed. Remember, we need Doctor Jones or we don’t get paid.”

  “Or worse,” Brian said, echoing his fears.

  Paulson hung up and sat with the phone in his shaking hand for a long time. Whether his hand shook from age or fear, he couldn’t say. He’d made his deal and now he’d live or die by it.

  Chapter Two

  Samara needed a walk before dinner to clear her head. She hadn’t taken more than a few steps in the warm summer air when Chase caught up. The sky was navy with a slight glow from the setting sun.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “For a walk.”

  “I’ll join you.”

  Having his tall, lean body shadow her would do nothing for her equilibrium, but it didn’t look as though she had a choice.

  “Do me a favor, Stanton,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Talk to me. When you loom silently, it gets to me. If you talk I remember what an academic lightweight you are and it helps me zone out.” She knew she was being mean, but she wasn’t in a place mentally or emotionally to dissemble.

  “Ouch.” Chase put his hands over his heart and stumbled backward, pretending a mortal wound. But his grin told her he hadn’t taken her insult to heart, and she found herself grinning back, glad she hadn’t hurt his feelings. Though there was truth in what she said about his silence. When he put on his charming, loquacious mask for the rest of the world, he was easy to dismiss. But when he stared silently, as he tended to do around her, he was deadly and she couldn’t ignore him.

  “What do you want me to talk about?” he asked. They fell into an easy rhythm, heading down the grassy hill toward the woodsy area of campus.

  “I don’t know…tell me something about your childhood. Any funny stories?” She imagined Chase similar to Luca, a gregarious little boy, wreaking havoc on campus from his antics. She smiled at him, expecting him to launch into tales of kitchen raids and other pranks, but he’d stopped walking and was glowering down at her.