Agent T3: d'Artagnan (Superhero Romance) (The D.I.R.E. Agency)

by Hahn, Joni

  Watching him walk around to the end of the table, Jocelyn stood again. “Recovering from what? What happened? I want to see him. Now.”

  Rachel touched her hand. “Jocelyn, Dar is fine. If you sit down, we’ll tell you about it.”

  Could she trust them? What if he’d been hurt, or worse, and they hid it from her? What if they brought her here to interrogate her, then kill her?

  “I’m not saying or doing anything until I see him.”

  “Jocelyn, we love Dar. He’s our brother,” she said. “We’re all on the same side here. To disturb him now would deter his recovery.”

  She took a calming breath. Dar trusted his family. That meant she could trust them, right? Just because her own family had betrayed her didn’t mean all families would do the same thing.

  Taking her seat, she adjusted the pink cotton dress Rachel had loaned her. “Tell me what’s happened.”

  Mitchell said, “We’ve given Dar some enhancements, much like Tristan and Aidan. They were successfully installed last evening. He’s recovering now. You should be able to see him in the morning.”

  “What kind of enhancements?”

  Mitchell gave her a steady stare. “Time travel.”

  She caught her breath. “Like Aidan?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “But, Aidan was never intended to do time travel. Dar’s enhancements are a combination of Tristan and Aidan’s systems, but with specific additions.”

  “So, he will teleport and create electricity?”

  Mitchell shook his head. “No. When he disappears, he’s time traveled.”

  That meant he could return to nineteen forty-four…

  Hope took flight in her chest. “He can take back the weapons technology we need. You have your gold as payment.”

  Obviously, someone had gotten smart and melted the gold into barrels too big to return to the past.

  “I’m sorry, Jocelyn. We can’t alter the past.”

  Her heart stopped dead. After all she’d risked, thousands of lives came down to Mitchell Jacob’s decision not to send back the technology they needed? Who made him God?

  She jumped up again. “That’s so easy to say seventy years in the future, isn’t it? While you’re sitting here in your humidity-free building, wearing silk boxers and eating steaks, men are shooting each other. Families are being killed because they don’t have the right hair or eye color, or were born without the right ethnic background.” Tears blurred her vision. “Thousands died just a few weeks ago in Normandy. They’re still counting the bodies. Senseless, meaningless killing. Every day. Their atom bombs are far beyond our Manhattan Project. With new weapons technology, we could take Germany and end this quickly.”

  Rising from her chair, Rachel hugged her. She held her while Jocelyn cried like a baby. None of them had lost someone, had held that horrible telegram in their hands, afraid to open it, knowing in their heart what it contained.

  Had any of them lost the person they loved most in the world in a senseless, horrifying battle, knowing their father helped the cause?

  “We know you lost a beau at Guadalcanal, Jocelyn. We’re so sorry.” Rachel leaned down to look into her face.

  John had been a classmate in high school, relentless in his pursuit of her. Jocelyn had had better things to do than pay attention to him, until he came home on leave two years before the war. The silly boy had turned into a brave, handsome man and she’d fallen hard.

  She’d written him every other day, and when he came home on leave, they’d spend most of it in a hotel bed. He’d proposed to her before he shipped out for the last time. She received the telegram a month later.

  “Thank you, but this isn’t about me. It’s about people all over the world.” Despair weighed on her shoulders. “Please. Give us the weapons. You’re our only hope.”

  Tristan said, “You can’t go back, Jocelyn. They’ll kill you.”

  Her gaze shot to him. “Dar can go back.”

  Mitchell let out a breath. “Jocelyn, Germany loses the war. If we alter the past, we could change the outcome. Who’s to say the implementation of modern weaponry wouldn’t cause them to drop a bomb?”

  She lifted her chin. “Then, either way I die.”

  “What do you mean?” Aidan frowned.

  “I’m not blonde and blue-eyed – like Angela, my stepmother. My father has my same coloring, but they need him and his time machine. They need him to learn all he can from Professor Einstein.” She pointed at her chest. “Me? I’m not necessary.”

  A part of her still couldn’t imagine that her father and Angela would allow them to kill her. Did she mean so little to them?

  Tristan looked at Mitchell. “Are you going to tell her?”

  Mitchell glared at Tristan before turning back to her. “What kind of weapons does your father have at his disposal? What could we expect when they return here?”

  She pulled back her head. “Return?”

  “We have their gold and the technology they want,” Mitchell said. “Would you chock up thirty million in gold to a loss?”

  “No,” Jocelyn said. “But, other than a handful of men and some guns, I’ve seen nothing. They say their scientists have weapons far beyond our imagination. How can we defeat them without the same kind of approach?”

  Elbow on the table, Mitchell stared at her with two fingers at his temple. “Jocelyn, your father is from the future.”

  She felt her mouth drop open of its own volition. Her breath stalled in her lungs, her mind screeching to a numbing halt. “What?” she whispered.

  “I met your father back in the nineteen eighties. He took his time machine and other…” He cleared his throat. “...key intelligence with him. I suspect the weapons you’re talking about were taken to the past by him. With Einstein’s intelligence at his disposal, I have no doubt their arsenal is powerful.”

  Falling back in her chair, Jocelyn felt defeated. Completely and utterly spent. Her father was at the heart of their movement and she never suspected? He’d taught her all she knew of science and space, of love and family.

  God above, she must be blind.

  Mitchell said, “Each time travel incident changes history, whether in a large or small way. If your father hadn’t traveled to the past, who knows what the war would look like. What we do know is that they need something more powerful. It’s up to us to keep that technology out of their hands.”

  Jocelyn covered her face. What if she’d succeeded the first time she came to the future? What if she had given that technology to her father?

  Oh God…

  She’d known her father’s associates fronted the gold. The idea that they were Nazis never entered her mind.

  Rachel rubbed her back. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, Jocelyn. He’s your father. You had no reason to suspect him.”

  Lowering her hands, she let out a deep breath. “At this point, they’re winning. What if, by coming to the future, we’ve changed the outcome? What if the history you know has already changed?”

  Mitchell said, “I have a plan, Jocelyn, and Dar is the key. The sooner we get him up and going, the sooner we can take care of this.”

  Chapter 8

  Dar woke the next morning with Joce beside him in the recovery bed. He’d never heard her arrive.

  What a sight for sore eyes.

  With her dark hair disheveled from sleep, she snored lightly on her side, her rear snuggled up against him. He should use the video recorder on his new armband to show her proof she actually did snore.

  He smiled. The munchkin would probably kick his ass.

  Taking a mental inventory, Dar realized he felt good. The armbands felt heavy on his arms, the spots where they tied into his blood stream and nervous system looked good and healthy. His veins felt heavier with the copper and gold compound, his nervous system running at a low hum.

  Robinson said he’d feel stronger, more bulky. To others, he’d feel like a rock. While he really had no strength enhancement, it would be harder to
take him down.

  Dar watched Jocelyn sleep. Robinson had told him she’d regained her memory. He wondered how she felt about him, her beau, her father, and his enhancements.

  She’s here now. That’s a good sign.

  Brushing back her hair, he kissed her temple before wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her close. He shut his eyes to go back to sleep.

  “Dar?” Her voice sounded groggy.

  “What baby?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I am now.”

  She squeezed his fingers.

  “I have my memory back.”

  “Robinson told me. Are you all right?”

  “I am now.”

  Grinning to himself, he kissed her hair.

  Now that her memory had returned, he needed to tell her Angela was his mother. He also needed to warn her about the spies and his father, since he remained on site. Dammit, he wished Mitchell would get him off property.

  “I like your tattoo.”

  He’d forgotten about his new tattoo. “What does it look like? It’d better be cool.”

  Turning his back to her, the area between his shoulder blades still stung. All of his nerve endings remained raw after his procedure.

  “Cool? What does that mean?”

  “It means… unique or appealing.”

  Jocelyn touched his back, her fingers cool, soft on his tender skin. “You have a hydrogen atom on the left and a titanium atom on the right, with a period clock in the center. In my opinion, it’s very… cool.” She kissed him there. “I missed you, d’Artagnan.”

  His eyes popped open. Had anyone ever told him that? Ever?

  Turning on his back to face her, Dar felt his blood pump at a low gurgle. Her beautiful, dark eyes took in his bare chest, the armbands, his face.

  “Tarzan. I’ve gone to the theater to see Tarzan picture shows. That’s who you remind me of, except you’re much more…”

  He gave her a cocked brow.

  “…stimulating.” With a sultry smile, she reached up and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

  Dar’s body shot into second gear, his blood pumping, his nervous system buzzing. Damn, sex was going to be one helluva ride with this shit.

  “No.” Robinson walked into the room shaking his head vigorously. “Absolutely not.”

  Taking Jocelyn’s hand, Robinson helped her up from the bed. “We haven’t met. I’m Clint Robinson, Dar’s… doctor. And, right now, this early in the process, Dar can’t get his… ahem, system up.”

  Cursing in his head, Dar gave Robinson a get-serious look.

  Have you taken a good look at her? It’s already up, Robinson.

  Jocelyn pulled in her lips over her teeth. “Yes, doctor. I’m Jocelyn Chalmers, by the way.” She gave Dar a hot, heavy-lidded perusal, her dark eyes filled with hunger.

  That’s when he realized she wore one of his shirts and a pair of his socks. That’s it. She was practically naked.

  Standing up, he grabbed a blanket off the bed and threw it over her shoulders. She frowned up at him.

  “How did you get in here, Jocelyn?” Robinson made him lay back down on the bed.

  “The nice agents at the end of the hall let me in when I told them who I was. They were very kind and even told me to call them if I needed anything.”

  Those sons of bitches. “No. If you need anything, you call me. If I can’t help you, go to Tristan or Aidan.”

  Robinson laughed as he checked Dar’s vitals.

  “What kind of security does Mitchell have around here?” Dar said, “Do I need to be worried about my father, Clint?”

  Robinson gave him a thoughtful frown. “It does seem like we’ve had our fair share of lapses since he arrived.”

  Heading to the door, he said, “I’m going to grab your breakfast, Dar. When I return, you’ll need to leave, Jocelyn. I’m sorry, but we have more to do. And, no funny business.” He pointed a finger at them.

  Nodding, she gave him an innocent,wide-eyed stare. “I understand.”

  They watched him leave the room. As soon as the door shut, Jocelyn rushed over to the bed and gave him a hard kiss on the mouth. They shared a smile.

  “Who is your father?” Jocelyn pulled the blanket closer.

  This was it. When he told her about his family and what he had done before D.I.R.E., she’d either hit the door running or, more in character, go after Robert herself. He didn’t know if he could stomach the sight of her walking out on him. Just thinking about it made him want to puke.

  Wouldn’t Tristan like to hear that?

  “My father is Robert Naylor, a former friend of Mitchell Jacobs’, Rachel and Cass’s father, and The D.I.R.E. Agency’s greatest foe – or, he was its greatest foe, until they captured him.”

  Stepping close to the bed, she searched his eyes. “Why? What did he do?”

  Dar filled her in on his father’s history and all that had transpired in the last few weeks. He told her of his part in the business, of the money laundering, weapon sales, and all of the other degenerate things he’d done.

  Her eyes rounded with surprise, but she didn’t run. It shocked him when she took his hand.

  “My father is a criminal, too. I’ve tried to buy weapons myself, Dar, and would gladly buy German government secrets if the opportunity arose.” She laid a hand on his cheek. “I could never judge you, d’Artagnan, because frankly, I’m just as guilty.”

  Dar couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Jocelyn was guilty of no more than a caring, compassionate heart. Her actions were based in her goodness, his in the hatred he’d been raised to embrace.

  But, no more.

  Taking a deep breath, he said, “There’s more, baby.”

  “What else?”

  He took her small hand in his and stared down at it. “Your stepmother, Angela?”

  “Yes. What about her?”

  He raised his head to meet her gaze. “She’s my mother.”

  Chapter 9

  Two nights later, Jocelyn sat in the roof lounge of the D.I.R.E. compound, staring at the fire in the round pit. The future had so many convenient devices, some of which seemed like magic. The idea of a phone that could track someone anywhere in the world still confused her. However, this internet mechanism fascinated her to no end. It held infinite information.

  She’d found photographs and history of the war. The allies had won, if you could call it that.

  Photos of concentration camp prisoners who were no more than skin over bones, had physically sickened her. The Invasion of Normandy had taken several thousand lives alone.

  What more did Mitchell Jacobs need to justify those weapons?

  And Angela. Jocelyn now knew why she’d been drawn to Dar from the beginning. Her stepmother had birthed him. Her basic goodness shown in his eyes, though he couldn’t see it himself. To think she and her father worked for the Nazis still perplexed her. Angela had been nothing but loving.

  “Jocelyn, will you tell us about Angela?”

  Cassandra stared at her, beer bottle in hand and a million questions in her beautiful violet eyes. She looked so much like her mother, they could be twins.

  d-Artagnan, sitting quiet and still beside her on the bench, had asked no questions, had not even inquired to Angela’s health. Then again, why should he? Angela had left them.

  “I can tell you the Angela I know but, to be honest, I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

  “We’re used to the lies, Jocelyn.” Tristan stretched his arm around Rachel, where they sat on an adjacent bench. “Just tell us what you saw growing up.”

  Looking at Dar, she took his hand in hers and set it on her lap. For some reason, he’d shut down after his meeting with Mitchell late this afternoon.

  “In all honesty, she was a wonderful mother and treated me like her own. She dolled me up every day, clothing me in fine dresses no matter if I attended school or a party. Before bed every night, I’d select a book from my shelf and she’d read it to me.” She ch
uckled. “She’d groan every time I handed her Cinderella because, even though I was a bit old for the story, I’d ask her to read it at least once a week. On Fridays, we’d walk the Institute grounds, studying nature. That’s how I developed my love of flowers.”

  “She’s a freaking Mother of the Year,” Dar said, in a snide tone.

  Robinson had warned her that Dar would experience moodiness for the next day or two. However, add that on top of the subject of his mother, and he practically radiated hostility.

  Jocelyn squeezed his hand. “It’s so hard for me to see her the way you do.” She looked at Aidan sitting beside Cass. “Until Aidan warned me about their traitorous activity, I adored her.” She softened her voice. “I see her goodness in all of you.”

  Dar dropped her hand. An immediate sense of loss washed over her.

  “Did she tell you about the future?” Cassandra said. “Did she ever talk about her life before she met your father?”

  Jocelyn shook her head. “Never. But, I noticed she always became very sad around babies and young children. I asked her about it once and it upset her greatly. She broke out in tears and ran from the room. It terrified me so that I never asked again.”

  The group fell silent. The only sound to be heard was the summer breeze wafting across the desert. Jocelyn knew they’d expected to hear that she’d been a horrible mother.

  She was glad she could disappoint them.

  Sitting forward, Dar rested his arms on his thighs. “Mitchell is sending me back.”

  His announcement startled her. Why hadn’t he told her? Had Mitchell reconsidered her plea?

  “When do you go?” Aidan said.

  “Tomorrow.”

  Jocelyn gasped. “Tomorrow?”

  That meant she’d be here alone. Why did that worry her? Angela and Nathan had taught her to be an independent woman. She’d always strived to take care of herself. Why had she become so dependent on Dar?

  “He wants me to take our information to an Admiral Smith at the Department of the Navy.”

  His leg shook in a nervous gesture. She touched it to calm him.

  “Are you taking the weapons technology?” she asked.