Surge: Bolt Saga Volume Five (Bolt Saga #13-15)

by Angel Payne

  “And why inside the hangar and not on the plane itself?” There’s no antagonism in Foley’s question. He’s curious more than anything, clearly expecting that Alex has a detailed answer. He’s not wrong.

  “The procedure had to go right the first time,” Alex explains, folding his arms. As he shows off the ropes of his muscles, I pointedly study Neeta. I doubt anything about Alex will escape her sneaking glances. He continues, “We only had one shot, a first and only time. Power and internet issues could’ve been circumvented, but there were other factors involved with this.”

  “Like what?” Wade asks, though already seems to discern the answer. “A tracker on the key itself?”

  “A damn good one,” Alex confirms. “Our contact previously attempted a manual download from a secure underground bunker. Within minutes, he was traced and swarmed by Consortium goons. They damn near made him that day, but his close call turned out to be our lucky break. We already knew what was going to happen if the key’s tracker was reactivated—and we didn’t want that happening on a plane already in flight.”

  No more shrewd expectation from Wade. “They would have shot you out of the fucking sky?” he charges, eyes now wide and stunned. “Could they have?”

  Angelique erupts with a fast chuff. “Yes and yes,” she supplies.

  “Damn and damn,” Wade utters.

  “Needless to say, we were all over the timing of the operation.”

  Alex cranks back his shoulders, finally noticing Neeta’s increasing admiration. I hold in my smile, letting him have his time in the literal and figurative sun. The guy fucking deserves it. He’s gotten no sleep in the last couple of days, even staying awake as I snoozed during the plane ride, insisting that the information we’d just transferred into my gray matter was only going to be viable if I kept my gray matter. He alludes to as much while continuing his explanation.

  “As soon as we were certain the intel transfer was good, I had Bolt-a-matic’s darling ass up the boarding stairs and on the charter. As far as we know, even to this second, Faline Garand isn’t aware of the shenanigans at all.”

  “But she could be at any time.” Foley casts a look around, relaying how he hates being the Debbie Downer on all this but is willing to take on the mantle for the sake of necessary truths. “The woman has already demonstrated her penchant—and talent—for teleportation fun. And if your source in Barcelona wasn’t completely solid…”

  “The source was solid.”

  I’m stunned Alex jumps on the declaration before I can, but the guy also didn’t just get hit with the news he’s about to become a father. “He’s right,” I supply as Foley swings a questioning glance my way. “The source is solid—or as solid as we’re going to get, given this new trip down the rabbit hole.”

  “Or into the lion’s mouth.”

  Alex’s quip, referencing the cheesy gallery of wall murals that was our first and only tourist stop in Barcelona, earns my gruff chuckle. What else could we have done when Saber, the tatted underground goon, had ordered us to meet him at the Museo de las Ilusiones? Any slick super spy cred we’d earned to that point had been stripped as soon as we entered the doors of the cheesy place, but our rendezvous point at the roaring lion painting had turned into a symbolically perfect location—considering who showed up as our ultimate trail guide into the darkest heart of the Consortium. A wildcat who proved he might really have nine lives. A predator I didn’t completely trust—nor do, even now—but in whom I have to rely.

  We have no better choice.

  The only other road leads back to square one. Not an option. We’re racing time itself. In less than eight hours, Faline transformed Emma’s own mother into a starry-eyed recruit for her demented cause. Though we’ve kept a close eye on Laurel and determined she hasn’t been imbued with the same transformative abilities, that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible. That at any time, Faline could activate an insane, secret nation and call her minions into full power.

  An army we’re still hopelessly in the dark about.

  Correction. Not completely the dark. We know a few fun facts—fun being extremely relative. One, Faline’s boot camp is scarily brief. Two, the fresh recruits are turned into starry-eyed automatons that don’t remember anything about their own free will, other than how it can be put into Faline’s service.

  So if the bitch really does call her soldiers to war…

  And it will be a war…

  We’ll be marching and flying blind.

  On the losing end of that fight.

  Not a scenario I’m going to let my child be born into.

  Which is why I sure as hell listen, with focus as fortified as Foley’s, as he firms his stance and states, “Even if your source was Jesus Christ in the flesh, we can’t take chances.” He swings his regard back toward Wade and Fershan. “You guys ready to reroute the solar inverters?”

  Fershan is the first with a ready grin. “Roger Dodger!”

  Wade rolls his eyes, earning himself a charmed smirk from Angie—whom, I notice, is eyeing him the same way Neeta’s sizing up Alex. “He means we’re ready and waiting,” he confirms.

  “Outstanding. On my mark, then.” Foley directs his attention back to me. “Double-checking the solar ionization isn’t going to hurt.”

  “Agreed,” I state, pulling in Alex with my own focus. “And neither is hooking me up and yanking all this shit out of my head.”

  Foley frowns. “You’re really up for that too? This fast?”

  A terse nod. “The faster the better.” I look up, making sure Wade and Fersh are still dialed into our exchange. “You guys are going to want to scrub the files for any more tracers, right? Which will take a while?” After registering their collective nods, I continue, “So let’s just get this circus back on the road.” I ping one more pointed glance to Alex. “Lions wait on no one—and we’ve got to figure out exactly where to jab the thorns in this one’s paws.”

  “All righty, then.” Foley rolls his head and then cracks his knuckles. “You got it, Bolt-astic.”

  “Right on.” Wade sweeps out a fist as emphasis.

  “We are ready to hack apart your brain!”

  Though everyone understands where Fersh is headed with that, the implication has everyone tensing—most noticeably, my wife. I try to ease her anxiety by teasing him back. “And it’s ready for the hacking!” That earns me Emma’s smack at my shoulder. Damn hard one, at that. My little fighting flare. Fuck, how I love this woman.

  “You coming, hard drive?” Foley issues the invitation from the top of the driveway, near the entrance to the command center.

  “You know that under normal circumstances, you’d have a lightning bolt in your ass for that, right?”

  Foley reprises the snicker. “And your point is what?”

  I growl through my teeth. “Just get your ass inside. I’ll be there in a second.”

  Fortunately, he complies—meaning I finally have the freedom to pivot back toward Emma, who’s wearing a bewildered pout. “Why didn’t you just give him a third ass crack?” she mumbles.

  “Because doing this is more important.” I’m not done uttering it before I’m demonstrating it, landing on my knees in the dust before her and spreading my hands across the gentle swell of her middle. “Hello there, my little dude,” I whisper against her stretched shirt, euphoric when she abandons her stress in favor of this perfect, private moment.

  A moment I never thought we’d have.

  A moment in which I fully embrace that this miracle is truly real. And once again, sway like a willow in the wind because of it.

  Fortunately, I recover in time to grip Emma’s hips and lower her gently into my lap. She laughs, settling her weight easily against me before framing my jaw with her fingers and holding me steady for her long, adoring kiss. I moan as our mouths connect, reveling in how she electrifies my body, fills my arms, floods my heart. All of my heart. Parts I never knew existed blast open, already brimming with love for her and this breathtaking
new person in our family.

  Our family.

  I get it now. I finally get why that word is so important to so many. I haven’t even seen my son beyond this small swell in my wife’s body, and already I know, beyond a fathom of any doubt on the planet, that I will throw myself in front of any fucking obstacle for them. Will carry a damn mountain across this country for them. Will do anything it takes to keep them safe and happy and protected.

  Anything. It. Takes.

  And in this flash of commitment, I come to a jarring recognition.

  I’ll do anything, go anywhere, and sacrifice everything for the sake of my family.

  As the vow permeates my spirit, the resolve sinks into all the pressure and passion of my kiss. I don’t hold back a shred of the intensity, letting it push into the force of my lips, the drive of my tongue, and the deep resonance of my groans—until finally, when we drag apart, Emma proves just how swept away I’ve gotten. With bemused blue fires in her eyes, she rubs the tips of her fingers across the reddened surfaces of her lips.

  “Hey.” She traces the lines of my mouth as well. “Are you…uh…are you okay? With this?”

  The hesitant rasp beneath her voice causes a frisson in my heart. “Are you fucking kidding?” I initiate a kiss that doesn’t end until we’re both moaning. “How can you even ask that?” I demand, my mouth still against hers. “Jesus, Emmalina. I’m not okay, to be honest.”

  She yanks back, brows scrunching. “Huh?”

  “I’m beyond that, Velvet.” I caress the back of her head with one hand and the surface of her belly with the other. “I’m so far beyond okay, I don’t think I’ll ever touch okay again. And I never want to.” With a reverent dip, I brush my lips across her distended stomach. “As long as I have you and our little dude, I never ever want to.”

  My head snaps back up at the burst of her soft sob. While the sound seems happy, I need to make sure. We share a rolling, reverent kiss. As soon as we part, she wavers the corners of her gorgeous mouth. The smart little minx already seems to know what I’m looking for—but there’s more than that to her expression. I patiently wait.

  “You know too,” she murmurs. “You know it’s a boy, don’t you?”

  I blink slowly, letting the wonderment in her tone imbue my senses. “I guess I do,” I admit. “I…don’t know how, but I do.”

  “Me too.” The sheen in her eyes turns into a sweet, teary wobble in her voice. Just like that, I’m welcoming a sharp sting behind my eyes. I let the wetness come, along with all the feeling that surges into me with it. The fullness. The completion. And yes, even the fear and the uncertainty—small prices to pay for the enormity of this love.

  This love for my girl…

  And my boy.

  “It’s amazing.” I shake my head, because the words are fucking ridiculous. Foolish stand-ins for a fullness that will never really find its way into combinations of consonants and vowels. And do I really want it to? This instant, this connection, this woman, our love…

  It’s boundless.

  Timeless.

  Our ultimate more.

  “Yes. It is.” Emma’s expression confirms her awareness of the same truth. Even better, her soul speaks it to me. “But…we’ll need to discuss plans, Reece.” A soft laugh escapes her. “I’ve already got a few lists…”

  “Of course, baby.” I slide my hand out of her hair so I can cup the side of her face. “But we’ve got time. You’re—what?—maybe six weeks in?” But as soon as I state it, I cast a quizzical look at her middle. What I’ve said and what I’m looking at don’t seem to match, but I know jack shit about this kind of stuff. Before the Consortium got their hands on every fluid in my body, I was singlehandedly ensuring the condom industry flourished. No love without a glove should have been tattooed across my balls, though now it’s the largest punchline in my world. Could I have been more wrong about what love really means? About what it truly is?

  As if Emma has reached into my head and translated my strange trip down Flashback Road, her expression changes into an inscrutable little glance. She backs it up by murmuring, “Like I said, Zeus, there are a few details to go over—but let’s tackle this one step at a time, okay?” As she looks up toward the lab, a readable emotion does take over her face. She’s pensive and not afraid to hide it. “Let’s be sure Faline can’t find a single crack in your cranium to crawl through.”

  “Damn good plan.”

  I give her another drawn-out kiss, making sure she gets every molecule of my soul-deep gratitude. If she were married to a banker or a CEO or even a goddamned rock star, she’d only have to deal with her man coming home and unpacking dirty underwear. Instead, she’s taking my hand as we walk toward the room where my team will have to extract computer files out of my head by using shock paddles and dumping solar cells into my blood as an insurance policy against Faline Garand’s radio control abilities.

  Just before we get to the lab’s door, I scuff to a stop and whirl her in to press against me once more. Emma lifts her head, clearly expecting a kiss, but I hold back for the privilege of taking in all the features that blow my mind, over and over again, with their lush, glowing beauty. The tapered arches of her brows. The thick fronds of her eyelashes. The high crests of her cheeks. Even the gentle jut of her chin, flowing to form the proud line of her neck. I long to smooth my fingers over every gorgeous detail I see as if it’s the last time I’ll see them. No matter what, that remains a very real possibility. But in so many bizarre ways, I am grateful for that too. It ensures I’ll never forget to treasure every damn moment with her. It guarantees I’ll always remember…even just moments need to be enough.

  With my Emmalina, moments are more than enough.

  Because she’s more than I ever dreamed of having. Of knowing. Of loving.

  Pulling in another breath, making sure I keep that gratitude safe and protected, I drop my hands until they’re wrapped solidly around hers again. Then finally, I give her the kiss for which she’s patiently waited. I’m slow and sensual but deep and demanding, savoring the feel of her tongue against mine with long, languorous rolls and full, sweeping slides. I don’t stop until she’s the texture of melted butter in my arms, her body swaying dreamily into mine. Only then do I pull away, meeting her enchanted, sultry expression with a cocky, knowing grin. But my indolence is an act; we both know that. I hate what has to happen now more than a kid having to get his wisdom teeth pulled. I’m not even going to have the Novocain hangover video to show for this.

  But if fate is with us—and this time, thank fuck, the wench really does seem to be—we’ll have something better.

  “This will be worth it, baby.” Emma vocalizes the very thought that takes precedence in my brain, sealing the surety with a kiss to the hollow of my throat.

  “I know,” I murmur back. “And as soon as they suck those files back down out of this big blockhead”—I tick my head forward, just to clarify which hunk of gray matter I’m referring to—“they’re going to make sure I’m pumped back full of lots of nice sun rays, for good measure.”

  “Hmmm.” She rocks her head back, flashing me with a mocking scrutiny. “I thought I was your sunshine.”

  “No, beautiful.” I lean over and kiss her cheek, since we’re now strolling toward the lab’s entrance. “You are my one and only flare.”

  “Who will always be here to shine on you, Mr. Richards.”

  As she tucks her head against my shoulder, I lower a kiss into her hair. “For which I’m so damn grateful, Mrs. Richards.” But all too quickly, I have to pull away from her to reach for the door to the lab. “And on that note, let’s get this shit taken care of.”

  I hold the portal open for her, but on her way through, Emma discernibly pauses. Then turns, raising a hand to the spot directly over where my heart beats—where it’s been beating in full since the moment that hand first touched mine, on that night that seems like a million heartbeats ago. Yet at the same time, it seems just a heartbeat ago. We’ve come so fa
r since then, but she still soaks every pore in my body with arousal and awareness and life.

  “We’ll be right here for you, husband.” Her promise is joined by a smile dunked in exhilarating life, soaring sentience, and inimitable hope. “Both of us.”

  Chapter Two

  Emma

  I promised him that Bean and I would be here—no matter how hard it got.

  But shit, it’s hard already.

  You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

  The words seem to come as much from the little dude in my belly as the big girl in my brain. I greedily accept the rally cry from both—while vowing to stay supportive and strong for my husband. Well, as much as I can be. I’m only able to hold on to my husband by one of his bare ankles as the guys prepare him for the procedure with the efficiency of NASA technicians readying a missile for outer space. While I know they don’t mean to treat Reece like a cylinder of screws and steel, I wonder if the all-business miens are their version of emotional self-defense: their own steel shells riveted in place so there’s not the slightest danger of them screwing up their technical duties.

  Because they’re messing with something a lot more precious than a rocket ship. Or even my husband’s bloodstream.

  His mind is going to be in their hands.

  As if I even need to be reminded of that fact, they give it over in glaring detail—by strapping him down by both wrists and looping a restraining belt around his waist. At last, as Fershan fires up the lab’s defibrillator unit. At the same time, Alex switches on the laptop. Wade stands directly over my husband’s head, holding the silicone “connector” that will be jabbed into Reece’s ear. With all the machinery revved up and in place, Wade secures his hands over Reece: one gripping his forehead, the other across his chin.