Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Discovering Beauty (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Robyn Peterman

  “Back to the story, Georgia. Now,” I said, getting serious. I would not be seduced by a laugh. I was too far gone for normal.

  “Right. The story… You’re not going to believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  Chapter Two

  Georgia

  He’s going to think I’m insane. Actually, he’d be correct, but I wasn’t always insane—or at least not this insane. They’d made me this way and now I might have made him the same.

  Tex was an idiot. No… Tex was my brilliant friend. He’d been trying to help me and I’d screwed it all up—royally. Although, if Tex had really been my friend he would have warned me how beautiful Carter Davis was—all blue eyed, black haired, muscle-bound, dangerous beauty. He should have sent me to someone old, ugly and mean—or hairy like Benny Hair Pants. Being attracted to Carter Davis was going to be a problem. To be fair, Tex probably didn’t really notice how smoking hot the man was…

  Well, wait… I suppose Carter Davis could be mean even though he was gorgeous. I was fairly certain he was going to get mean when he figured out what I’d accidentally, possibly, maybe done to him… but his lips. He had such beautiful lips and he smelled so damned good. And his ass… you could bounce a quarter off of it.

  “Let me start off by apologizing,” I said with a forced smile on my face.

  “For?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I’ll get to that in a few,” I assured him and began to pace the small room again. “We’re safe here. I mean we’re in a safe house that Tex told me about.”

  “And why do we need to be in a safe house, Georgia from Georgia?”

  “Because it’s safe,” I told him, wondering if his brain had been affected.

  His eye roll and grunt of disgust made me realize his brain was fine. Mine? Debatable.

  I was very aware he’d regained use of his limbs even though he was playing as if he hadn’t.

  And why should he trust me? I sure as hell wouldn’t. I could have a whole posse of bad dudes with me.

  I didn’t.

  Instead, I had a whole posse of bad dudes after me—two seriously bad ones in particular. Which is where Carter Davis was supposed to come in and help, but…

  “You’re a government experiment?” he questioned with doubt, prodding me out of my very busy and jumbled internal thought process.

  “Well, I was CIA, but then it all went a bit wrong,” I replied, relieved to tell the truth.

  “And by a bit wrong you’re referring to the government experiment part?” he asked looking as skeptical as I would if someone laid this bizarre tale in my lap.

  “Yes. A bit wrong is kind of mild, but clusterfuck of epic proportions is over the top dramatic—even if it is accurate,” I muttered.

  The truth will set you free or get you killed by a pissed off ex-SEAL. Which honestly, might not be a bad way to go all things considered. Folding his arms over his massive and beautifully bare chest, Carter raised an annoyed brow and waited.

  Fine. He had every right to know everything, especially since…

  “I speak ten languages,” I explained, barreling right into my freakish abilities—well some of them. “I can hack any computer, build a bomb with my eyes shut, hit a target from a spot that isn’t humanly possible… and I can bake. Cakes. I bake really great cakes. I was a savant as a child and my parents had no clue what to do with me. I scared them, myself, and pretty much most people. My parents liked my cakes, but that was all they liked about me. They sent me off to a school with others like me and it sucked. But that’s not important—at all. Basically, I’m a scary freak.”

  “Who bakes cakes,” he added, squinting his eyes at me in what I thought might be amusement.

  It was more likely fear… “Yes. I bake cakes,” I confirmed.

  “You don’t scare me,” Carter replied with an exasperated grin. “You annoy me and confuse me, but you don’t scare me.”

  “Thank you. That’s actually really nice to hear,” I told him with my first genuine smile in a long time.

  “Welcome. So how does a bright, beautiful, multi-lingual, annoying CIA agent who bakes cakes and makes bombs end up as a government experiment who needs to disappear?” he questioned.

  “That is an excellent question,” I told him as I pulled a chair up and sat next to the bed. I stayed on the side of the room nearest to the door in case I had to make a run for it. “I’ve wondered that myself.”

  We sat in strained silence for a few moments while he stared at me. God, how I wished I’d met this man under normal circumstances. However, normal was no longer in my wheelhouse. Ever.

  “Don’t you want to know why you can’t move?” I asked, deciding to get some of the hard stuff out of the way first before he had complete use of his body again.

  “I figured that’s what you were apologizing for,” he shot back.

  “Umm, yes,” I replied, trying really hard to give him a reassuring smile. I was quite sure it came out like a pained wince.

  “You want to be a bit more specific?” Carter asked.

  Bizarrely enough, the beautiful man seemed amused. “Yes, I do,” I told him. “But there’s more weird stuff before I can get to that part.”

  Again we stared at each other in awkward silence. I knew it was my turn to talk or come clean as it were, but it was really fun looking at someone so pretty. I’d only seen evil nerds in lab coats for so long now that a real man was an incredible treat.

  And in a matter of minutes he would no longer be amused.

  “Okay, hear me out before you kill me,” I bargained.

  “Thought you were basically unkillable,” he replied flatly.

  “Pretty much,” I agreed. “However, if you decapitate me, I’m sure that would work. I mean it would have to… right? There is no way I could survive being headless. At least I don’t think I could. It would suck so hard being alive and headless. You feel me?”

  The look on his face told me I was losing him fast.

  “Okay, you don’t have to reply to that one. Just keep it in mind if we need to kill me. I’m ninety-eight percent sure if you behead me I’ll die. I will not go back. Death is very preferable to being strapped to a gurney and shot up with poisons.”

  “Keep going,” Carter said, staring at me like I was the nut job that I was. “But I’d like to know why I’m naked.”

  “That’s a fair question.” I nodded and wondered how much I could leave out of the answer and still tell some of the truth. “What do you remember from three nights ago?”

  “Three?” he demanded. “I’ve been here for three days?”

  “And nights,” I reminded him. “But like I said, we’re safe here.”

  “Georgia,” he growled, narrowing his eyes and trying to stand.

  “Don’t,” I told him, gently pushing him back down. “I promise I’ll explain. I don’t think you’re strong enough yet. Took me weeks. At least I didn’t kill you. I call that a plus.”

  “Not sure I agree,” he said, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose and expelling a frustrated breath.

  “I got your scent from Tex and found you,” I said, holding up my hand so he wouldn’t interrupt. “Let me finish and then you can kill me or help me. Cool?”

  He nodded tersely and waited.

  “You were in a bar drinking. Alone. You’d had a lot and I bought you a few more rounds. I figured it would be easier to get you to go along with me if you were a bit fuzzy,” I explained, staring at my shaking hands. “So you know… one thing led to another and we were making out in your car because you’re so freakin’ hot and you were biting on my neck.”

  The room suddenly felt way too small.

  “If you hadn’t bitten my neck, I don’t think I would have bitten you back.”

  “Not really seeing a problem here except I don’t remember it,” Carter said easily.

  If only this was easy.

  “Normally,” I said, stressing the word, “a little neck biting and a hickey or two�
�or three wouldn’t be a bad thing, but…”

  “But?” he asked, sitting totally upright and easing his legs over the side of the bed revealing his mind-bogglingly beautiful private parts.

  Immediately my eyes shot to the ceiling and I pinched my nose shut. His scent alerted me he was aroused and I knew I would jump him instead of doing the right thing and explaining why he should probably kill me dead.

  “I don’t smell,” he said with a chuckle. “And I still don’t know why I’m naked. Did we…?”

  “No,” I shouted, startling both of us. “And you don’t smell bad. You smell good—which is bad. And I would greatly appreciate it if you would cover your thingie.”

  “It’s a dick not a thingie. Remember that,” he said, draping the sheet over his now growing thingie.

  “Right. Sorry. Dick,” I replied, mortified. “Do you want to hear more?”

  “Please,” he said sarcastically. “Especially the government experiment part.”

  “Your tone is kind of rude,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, well, you clearly did something to incapacitate me. You called my dick a thingie and asked me you decapitate you. Can you see why I might be a bit annoyed?”

  It took everything I had not to roll my eyes. Carter Davis didn’t get it. “While you make excellent points, I didn’t mean to incapacitate you and I’ve called dicks thingies since junior high school—which is a difficult habit to break. And when I’m done with my story you’re most likely going to want to tear my head off. I just don’t think you need to be a butthole.”

  “My apologies.”

  “For real?” I asked.

  “No. Finish the damned story,” he growled.

  “Fine. I thought I was going in for a round of shots because I was being sent overseas,” I said with no emotion in my voice. I’d gone over the story so many times in my head I felt like I was talking about someone else. It was far more fun to banter back and forth with a beautiful man than to tell my sad, ugly truth.

  “That’s normal protocol,” Carter pointed out.

  “Umm… normally I’d agree.”

  “And?”

  “The government is making super soldiers—of a sort,” I whispered.

  “Again,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  “They’re taking men and women and turning them into high tech killing machines,” I said, feeling light-headed. “Messing around with DNA, and I’m not even sure what else. I have scars all over my body. I was in blackout mode for a long time.”

  “How long?”

  “The better part of a year,” I admitted.

  “And you’re one of them?” he asked with a look of what I was certain must have been revulsion on his face. Or maybe it was pity. I couldn’t tell and I really didn’t care.

  “I’m one that survived,” I told him as I stood and moved closer to the door.

  “How many of you exist?”

  “Exactly like me?” I asked, my stomach churning.

  He nodded and watched me closely.

  “Only me—and now maybe you.”

  “Explain yourself,” he barked, no longer amused.

  “I bit you,” I choked out. “They screwed with my DNA and now I might have screwed with yours. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”

  The bottom felt like it was falling out from underneath me and I wanted to run, but Carter Davis was more my responsibility than I was his at this point.

  “They’re making super soldiers with DNA alterations?” he demanded, standing and letting the sheet fall from his magnificent body.

  “No, they’re making animals.”

  “Repeat,” he said so softly, I wasn’t sure I heard him.

  “Animals. They’re making humans who can shift to predator animals to kill in situations that humans couldn’t survive in.”

  “And you’re one of these animals?” he asked with a laugh.

  Words failed me so I simply nodded. I was an animal—a true freak of nature. I didn’t actually become a full animal, but I took on traits and habits. It was monstrous. I was a monster—a beast.

  And I might have made Carter Davis one as well.

  Chapter Three

  Carter

  Georgia from Georgia was right out of her ever-loving mind. My brain said to get my shit together and get the hell out, but my gut said to stay. Not to mention my dick—or thingie, as it were—was also in favor of staying. But I refused to listen to my dick. It had gotten me into trouble before. Now my gut? I always listened to my gut.

  Did Tex really send her to me? And how did she find me? I didn’t for a moment believe she was an animal. Super soldier? That was definitely in the realm of possibilities. The CIA was always up to no good in my opinion. It would also make sense that she would know of Tex if she truly was some kind of enhanced fighting machine. But an animal? No.

  “Honey, you’re gonna have to come up with a more plausible story if you want my help,” I said, finding my jeans and yanking them on. Where was my damn shirt?

  “Look,” Georgia said, sounded desperate. “Forget about making me disappear or helping me. If you would just be so kind as to kill me, we can just call it a day. I have money hidden overseas. I’ll give you the account numbers and you’ll never have to worry again. Ever. I can pay you. Cool?”

  “Not cool,” I snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you? You truly think you’re an animal?”

  “Do you think I like having to tell a hot, deadly killer guy that I’m an animal and not the good kind?” she shouted, twisting her hair in her fingers and rocking back and forth on her feet.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, shaking my head and swearing I would never drink again.

  “You know,” she yelled, throwing her hands in the air. “Like an animal in bed—the good kind of animal. Not the kind that can smell something of yours that Tex had and then be able to track you by your scent. Not the kind that can be dropped in a jungle and survive for fifty years. Not the kind that accidentally bites a guy who wants to get in her pants because she can’t control her fangs. Not the kind that’s been strapped to a table and kept in a cage so they can be experimented on. Not the kind they throw into a fucking pen with real wild animals and I come out alive because I managed to kill every single one of them with my claws and fangs. That kind of animal isn’t good. Do you feel me?”

  “You’re insane,” I said and then paused. Wait. How had she found me? No one had been able to track me. Ever.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” she said, dropping to the chair and letting her head fall to her hands.

  “Where’s my shirt?” I asked as I found my wallet, car keys, dead burner phone, socks and shoes on the floor at the base of the bed next to my gun and ammunition. I was surprised the weapon was still among my possessions. She either trusted me or was hoping I’d use it on her.

  “I threw it out,” she said without looking up. “There was so much blood on it, it made me hungry.”

  “Okay, that statement is just wrong,” I muttered, searching for my shirt.

  Georgia from Georgia needed to be institutionalized. Tex was going to be hearing from me very soon.

  “Yep,” she agreed, still staring at the floor. “I have some shirts in my duffel bag, but I don’t think they’ll fit you.”

  I sat down on the bed and looked at her. She was a beautiful tragic mess. Georgia from Georgia made me feel things. I didn’t feel things. Ever. And I didn’t like it.

  However, I believed something had happened to her. Whether the government had done it or she was simply unbalanced, I wasn’t sure. However, if she knew Tex, the military was probably involved.

  Maybe she’d been brainwashed and honestly believed she was an animal. I’d seen PTSD do all sorts of things that were horrifyingly unimaginable.

  Goddamn it, there was something about her that sucker punched me. Yes, she was ungodly beautiful, but that wasn’t it. Beautiful women were everywhere. This one was…
<
br />   “Okay, so for arguments sake, let’s say I believe you.”

  “Do you,” she asked, looking up and pinning me with those lavender eyes.

  “Possibly.”

  She nodded and a small smile pulled at her lips, but came nowhere near reaching her unusual eyes.

  The desire to hear her laugh again almost overwhelmed me, but I pushed it right out of my head. Compartmentalizing was a strength of mine—had kept me alive years longer than I should have survived. “What kind of animal are you?”

  “Panther,” she replied hollowly. “And no, I don’t turn into a panther like in a horror movie. That would actually be kind of cool,” she muttered, laughed and then moaned softly.

  “What happens?” I asked.

  “I just take on a few physical traits, but my senses are enhanced and I become a dangerous predator.”

  Holding back my laugh took effort, but she looked so sincere and sad, I swallowed it. New for me to be so careful with someone else’s feelings…

  “What brings on this change?” I asked, staring at my hands so she wouldn’t see my doubt.

  If she really believed this load of shit, my disbelief would make her run. For whatever fucked up reason, I didn’t want her to run. Maybe I needed a goddamned hobby. Getting tangled up with stunning insanity wasn’t going to do much for my own mental health. And God knew I probably needed some help. I was still trying to figure out how to live in polite society and it wasn’t working out too well.

  “Well,” Georgia said slowly, squinting her eyes in confusion. “I thought it was the violence. I mean, in the past it was always violence that brought it on. Kind of a fight or flight response, except I don’t fly away. I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”

  “So your reaction to me was violent?” I asked.

  “Umm, no,” she said with a small laugh. “It was not violent. Well, it was violent, but not in a harmful way… although I might have harmed you. Shit. I can’t do anything right.”

  “So arousal brought it on?” I questioned her.

  Her blush was as alluring as the rest of her, but I wasn’t going there.