by Harper Allen
He’d said she had destroyed herself. His words had made no sense then, but now everything became chillingly clear—his knowledge of her symptoms, the information her subconscious had betrayed to the doctors who had assessed her upon her return to Lab 33 twenty-one days ago, Peters’s anticipation of each move she’d made since she’d woken up in the procedures room tonight and gone hunting for him.
There was nothing wrong with her at all. Nothing genetic, at any rate. Just that for the past nine months she’d been methodically tearing herself in two by trying to put her Lab 33 legacy behind her while still justifying her cold-blooded desire for vengeance against Aldrich Peters. Her apparent symptoms—the crippling headaches, the loss of her abilities—had been merely the outward manifestations of her inward self-destruction. The psychological tests that had been run on her upon her return had predicted those manifestations to Peters…and his devious mind had immediately seen how he could use them to coerce Lab 33’s lab rat into one final assignment.
But I’m not a lab rat anymore and I’m opting out of this experiment as of now, Dawn told herself forcefully. I’ll hand the sorry son of a bitch over to the authorities, dammit, and then go after the things I really want—like a life, a future working with the real good guys and getting to know my sisters, and maybe—just maybe—the chance to look into Des Asher’s sexy aqua eyes once more.
She shot to the surface. Dragging in a meager breath of air, she felt energy tingling like an electric current through her veins, not only recharging her strength but doubling it—no, quadrupling it.
“Getting outta here? Piece of cake,” she muttered with wry amusement before letting herself sink to the bottom once more. Her boots made contact with the floor. Her body settled into a half crouch. Her mind shut out the man standing beyond the glass barrier, the water surrounding her, the fading oxygen in her lungs…but before her concentration became totally Zen-like, she allowed herself to notice that there was no longer the slightest flicker of pain in her head. The symptoms had gone for good.
And she and Peters had both underestimated what she was capable of. In front of her was thick glass. Dawn stared at it and visualized a spider’s web of cracks radiating out from a single point in it, visualized the cracks shattering open, saw in her mind’s eye the whole wall crashing outward and the roomful of water bursting out in a mighty flood.
She reached inside herself and found a woman strong enough to make all those visualizations reality.
“Kwa-sah!” The phrase exploded from her at the same time as her leg shot stiffly out from her body, her boot heel aiming for the very point in the wall where she had imagined the initial weakening. As her boot smashed into the glass the impact ran jarringly through her whole frame, but she didn’t feel it. “Che-sah!” The spiderweb of cracks she had seen in her mind’s eye were now there in front of her calm gaze, spreading rapidly from the epicenter of her kick. Her arms extended in front of her, palms flat. Dawn moved through the water and effortlessly pushed at the glass wall.
Her prison shattered and fell away from her.
Glittering shards exploded outward, propelled by an overwhelming rush of water. She held her balance for as long as she could, but then her feet slid out from under her and she was carried along with the flow, her concentration broken by a dizzying sense of joy and freedom.
I did it, Uncle Lee! Did you see me—I did it! Not the way you would have, because from now on I’m choosing my own path, my own life. But I did it, and part of the strength I needed came from you. So your little Dawnie says thank-you, Uncle Lee. Thank you…and goodbye.
The water on her face wasn’t just water, it was mixed with tears. Lying on the rocky path where she’d been deposited by the now-spent contents of the tank, she dashed the tears away and with them went the last of her destructive hatred against a conflicted and complicated man who in his own way had loved her more than she’d ever known.
She could never completely erase her Lab 33 past, she thought with regret. But at least she’d put it to rest.
“You…you think you’ve won…”
Her thoughts had been so far from Aldrich Peters that at the sound of his voice Dawn whirled around in shock, immediately ready to defend herself if necessary. But it wasn’t necessary, she saw, nausea rising in her as she took in the sight of him.
Dozens of spearlike shards of glass protruded from his crawling figure and some had sliced horrifically into his face. The water on the cavern floor around him was tinged a sickly pink, and from the paper-whiteness of his complexion it was obvious that most of his blood was now running over the wet rocks he was dragging himself across. He gave her a ruined facsimile of his former chilly smile, the nerves on one side of his face obviously severed.
“But you haven’t, Dawn.” Glass had also pierced his throat, and his voice was little more than a wet whisper. “I may not get out of here alive, but neither will you or the Athenas.”
He was crawling toward his briefcase. Suddenly apprehensive, she strode forward and kicked it out of his reach, but too late she saw that his objective had been the small, plastic-encased rectangle lying near it. Peters’s hand closed around the rectangle. Dawn heard a tiny clicking sound as his blood-smeared thumb pressed down on a button.
“Maximum…maximum body count.” He didn’t struggle as she snatched the unit from him. “I wanted to wait until the Athena women and the military and law enforcement agencies backing them were at full strength inside the complex. I would imagine even the stragglers have arrived by now.”
“What is this?” It looked like a remote control, she thought impatiently, but it damn well didn’t turn on a television. Aside from the button Peters had pushed, there was a numerical keypad and a digital readout—Her stomach clenched. “It’s an explosive activator! You intend to blow Lab 33 and everyone in it sky-high, for God’s sake!”
The readout showed four digits. Even as she focused on the angular red numbers, they changed from 21:01 to 21:00.
Dropping to her knees, she shoved the activator in his face, her expression etched with strain. “How do you stop the freakin’ countdown? How do you stop the countdown, dammit?” she screamed.
“It can’t be stopped once it’s started.” Now that he was no longer physically exerting himself, Peters’s voice had more strength. “I calculated that after watching you die I would need twenty-two minutes to make my way to the helicopter waiting outside for me. I saw no reason to add a cutoff feature.”
“Then where’s the device?” The activator read 20:21. Dawn tasted sharp fear at the back of her throat. She grabbed Peters’s shredded lapels. “You’re dying—you have nothing to gain by taking others with you! Tell me where you planted the explosive!”
With a touch of his former icy arrogance, he pushed her away. “Nothing to gain? When covert government agencies that once funded me have denied their involvement and politicians whose predecessors used Lab 33’s resources now pretend to be so appalled at our methods of operation that they support a group of women who want to take me down? Oh, I have something to gain, Dawn—I’ll die knowing that my betrayers will pay for what they did to me.”
“You want payback,” she said hollowly. “So buy it with my blood, Doctor. Tell me where you planted the device in order that I can defuse it, and I swear I’ll carry out the death you planned for me.”
His fading gaze held cold amusement. “You’re wasting your breath. Just as the activator can’t be halted, neither can the device my people created be defused. Even if it could, you’d never be able to get to it. Despite its destructive power it’s tiny…tiny enough to be implanted into a healing bullet hole on a man’s body.”
Her grasp on his lapels slid away. He slumped backward onto the rocky floor, a final gout of blood streaming from his side. “I guessed that the Athenas would enlist him in their battle, and that he would accept in the hope that he could retrieve London’s research before it was sold. For a hefty sum, the doctor who attended his wounds at the hospital wa
s willing to bend his Hippocratic oath and insert a small object in Captain Asher’s bullet-torn arm before suturing it.”
Aldrich Peters’s voice faded. “You betrayed him, Dawn. You’re the last person he’d trust now…and he’ll kill you before he lets you get anywhere near him.”
Chapter 17
Status: eighteen minutes three seconds and counting
Just ahead of her was the last curve in the rock-hewn corridor before the steps that led up to the lowest level of Lab 33. Dawn lengthened her stride, her leather catsuit molding wetly to her body and her soaked boots squelching soddenly with each pounding footstep as she ran. Aldrich Peters was dead. Once that fact would have filled her with dark satisfaction, but now it meant nothing to her. All her thoughts and energies were directed toward one impossible goal—to somehow get to Asher in time, somehow explain the situation to him, somehow figure out a way to stop the explosive implanted in him from going off and killing hundreds of people.
Her sisters. Kayla Ryan and whichever Cassandras might be with her today. Asher’s forces and scores of women and men from all strata of law enforcement, from the lowliest part-time sheriff’s deputy to the SWAT teams.
But that part of it wasn’t her problem. Her problem was exactly as Peters had stated it with his final breath.
“Asher sees me as the enemy,” she muttered as she took the curve. “No matter what the Cassandras have told him, he knows I wasn’t up-front with them about my agenda and he’ll dismiss their trust in me as misplaced…which it was,” she added honestly. “How the hell am I going to convince him I’m on the side of the angels for real this time, when in the past I’ve—”
She skidded to a halt as she turned the corner and saw the figure of a man blocking the stairs. Then he walked out of the shadows and she recognized him.
“Reese!” The last time she’d seen Terry Reese he’d been unconscious on the floor of Sir William’s study, but although she was relieved to see his injuries had been minor enough that he’d been able to join in the fight against Lab 33, this wasn’t the moment for catching up. “There’s no time to explain now, but I need you to help me find Ash—”
“How did it feel killing Aldrich, angel? Bet it was a real rush.” He took a step forward, bringing his right hand from the side of his body. “Just like it’s going to be a rush for me to kill you.”
Dawn froze. The sword he’d been concealing was now held in front of him, his two-handed grip on the hilt relaxed. He was used to the weapon, she thought tensely. And in such close quarters, dodging that gleaming blade would be impossible.
“Listen to me, Reese,” she said rapidly. “Whatever Asher told you about me, I’m not the same woman who walked out on him three nights ago. I’m on your side, dammit, and if I don’t—”
“With Aldrich gone and his organization destroyed, stepping into your position’s not in the cards anymore.” Reese gave no sign of hearing her. “But the man who takes down Lab 33’s top assassin will be able to name his price anywhere in the world. That’s even better than having to work my way up through the ranks like Peters intended.”
…some of them won’t return from the test assignments I’ve given them…those who do will be the nucleus of Lab 33’s newly formed assassination squad…each assassin has been given the name of one of the Athena Academy graduates known as the Cassandras…their missions are to kill their targets or die in the attempt… Aldrich Peters’s words from their meeting at the juke joint echoed in Dawn’s mind, and she drew in a hissing breath.
“I get it,” she said flatly. “You were as much undercover at London’s lab as I was, weren’t you? Maybe you killed a Ranger who was being transferred there and took his identity, but how you got in place doesn’t matter right now. You were the killer in the hallway who shot me in the throat, and when you heard Sir William coming to the door you took on the role of my savior—gorgeous Terry Reese who came by just in time.” A thought struck her. “The partial thumbprint of mine that was on file. Your doing?”
“I came back here on a day off from playing soldier and beefed up Interpol’s data on the mysterious Donna Schmidt,” Reese said tersely. “A good assassin takes every opportunity to unnerve his target, and I knew you’d go crazy wondering how you’d been so careless as to leave even a partial print at a scene. I lifted it from a glass you’d used in the cafeteria, by the way. But having a fake Athena Academy pin made and then giving it to you later was even more satisfying. I knew from the briefing Peters gave me on you that you’d allied yourself with them, and when you let the lab rats out I really thought I’d pushed you over the edge.”
His grip tightened on the sword. “I intend this to be an honorable kill, Dawn—one superb warrior pitted against another. That’s why I didn’t try again after our encounter in the hallway—because I realized I didn’t want to take you down when you obviously weren’t at your peak.”
“What about when you were playing dead in Sir William’s study a few nights ago?” she asked with disgust. “How honorable was that?”
A flicker of anger marred the handsome features. “Peters should have trusted me to take you down. When the attack began, I realized he’d double-crossed me as well as you, and at that point my allegiance to him was voided. Since the Lab 33 gunmen didn’t know I wasn’t a real Ranger, it was easy to deliberately let myself be knocked out by one of them, all the while knowing they were no match for you. As I say, our confrontation will be an honorable one. There’s a sword identical to mine in a niche in the rock wall by your right hand, and I’ll give you the opportunity to—”
“What is this, freakin’ King Arthur?” Dawn exploded in irritation. “Sorry to wreck your big moment, Lover Boy, but I really don’t have time for this crap.”
The gun she’d collected from Aldrich’s body was tucked into the back of her belt. Before Reese could begin to raise his unwieldy weapon she shot it out of his hands and then pulled the trigger twice more. The drop-dead handsome fake Ranger dropped to the floor—not dead, as was evidenced by his screams of pain, but with both his shinbones shattered.
“You know, being the world’s top assassin isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Reese,” Dawn said, tossing the out-of-ammo gun aside and stepping swiftly over him. “But it still kind of frosts my pumpkin having wannabe’s trying to take me out.”
Another agonized scream was his only answer, but already she was up the rough-hewn stairs and pushing open the trapdoor. As she began racing down the hall, she checked the remote in her hand—13:59. Dammit, she’d wasted four whole minutes—minutes she couldn’t afford to waste.
“And it looks like another freakin’ roadblock up ahead,” she muttered worriedly as she bypassed the elevator and sprinted for the service stairs to the next level. “A last-ditch stand of Lab 33 guards battling against—”
Battling against a single Navy SEAL? Dawn frowned. The uniformed man holding off the guards was an incredible fighter, but the sheer number of his opponents was wearing him down. She’d intended to bypass the skirmish if possible, but she couldn’t leave an ally in the hands of the enemy.
“Got your back, buddy!” She yelled out her intention to the SEAL just as the guard coming up behind him raised the stock of his rifle to slam it down onto the man’s skull. The guard pivoted to face her instead. A moment later he was out cold on the floor and she was using his weapon as a battering ram against her half of the Lab 33 contingent as her SEAL partner, his back against hers, grimly took on the ones on his side.
“Hey, buddy!” Dawn slammed the butt of the rifle into a guard’s stomach. As her opponent doubled over, she dealt him a karate blow to the back of his neck. “When we’re finished with this sewing circle here, I’ve got to find Des Asher. He’s an SAS guy, tall, tanned, probably leading a mixed group of SAS and Rangers. You seen him?”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw her comrade drive a knee into a guard’s groin before planting a pile-driving punch on his chin that snapped the Lab 33’s man’s head backward.
“Main level,” the SEAL grunted as he turned his attention to the next guard coming at him. “Still some pockets of heavy resistance in the entry area, although most of the lower floors have been secured. You one of the Athena women?”
“You might say—dammit, hold on a minute.” Dawn expediently dispatched the two guards who were rushing her by waiting until the last moment and then ramming their heads together. They both fell to their knees and two swift kicks took them out of the fight for good. “You might say that,” she continued. “Name’s Dawn O’Shaughnessy. I used to work for Aldrich Peters’s organization, but don’t hold that against—”
“Dawn?” The SEAL threw a startled look over his shoulder at her, and for the first time since she’d come to his aid she saw his face.
Her own eyes widened. “Dad?”
“Watch your left!”
At Thomas King’s quick warning Dawn saw the woven-steel garrote that was about to come looping down around her neck. Automatically she fought off the guard who had attempted to strangle her, her mind not on the physical confrontation but on the man fighting alongside her who had the same green-gold eyes and honey-blond hair as she did.
For crying out loud, O’Shaughnessy…you called him Dad? she thought in embarrassment. You’ve only seen the man twice before in your life, and that’s counting the time you had him in the crosshairs of a high-powered rifle. Sure, when you found Lynn and Faith, the three of you sisters had a meeting with the man who’s your biological father, but even though he seemed glad to meet us he had to feel a little awkward being confronted with a trio of daughters he’d never known existed—especially since he already has a wife and a teenage son. And now you’ve gone and made him feel uncomfortable all over again, dammit.
The guard slumped heavily to the floor. She turned to take on a new attacker, and then realized that the Lab 33 contingent had been wiped out by her and her father.
She fumbled for the remote activator, which she’d tucked in her belt when she’d entered the fray. “Guess I was out of line there, King,” she said curtly. “Calling you that, I mean. I’m sure you’d prefer I addressed you by your rank or your last name.”