by Cate Noble
Max was tired, too. It was hard to believe it had been less than a week ago that he had been rescued from the jungle and brought back to the States. Now he was on the run with a beautiful woman. And he’d thought that only happened in the movies.
A hot shower helped revitalize him, but it didn’t last. Once he ate, he felt exhaustion creep in. His headache seemed to spiral, growing worse as he tried to connect with Taz. Ultimately, the effort only increased Max’s discomfort.
After checking the doors one last time, he climbed into the empty bed and turned off the light.
Erin’s soft breathing in the dark soothed him. He again felt a longing to lie next to her, just to hold her—but that thought quickly morphed to thoughts of kissing her.
Of her making love to him.
The distinction seemed significant. He wanted to be desired freely. Not because he’d influenced her or manipulated her reactions.
Nothing wrong with that, echoed in his mind.
Oh, but there was.
There was.
At some point Max drifted off to sleep. And in his dreams, Erin welcomed him. Invited him into her arms. Her body.
“Love me, Max. Let me love you.”
He heard the sounds of ocean waves, felt the warmth of the sun on his bare back. The beach. They were back on that beach again. But this time they were both naked. On a blanket, in that secluded little cove.
Erin was beneath him, moaning, writhing. It felt like he’d been dropped into the dream, mid-stroke, his cock already half sheathed in her tight liquid heat.
Part of him felt cheated. He’d wanted to feel her kisses go from tentative to wild. He’d wanted to undress her slowly, unwrap her like a precious gift. He’d wanted to feel her pulse slam as her body grew wet and hungry.
“More, Max.”
He drew back and pushed in, going deeper. She leaned her head back, thrusting her shoulders out and offering her breasts up to him. To his mouth.
She couldn’t get enough of him, her cries going from plaintive to desperate. “More, Max. Harder.”
He felt his own release building. He held back, not wanting to let go until she’d gone hopelessly over the edge.
Run. Hide.
Taz’s voice came out of nowhere.
Erin disappeared, leaving Max disoriented. The beach was gone. He was—
Hades, help! Please, Taz screamed now. Anything. I’ll do anything.
Max recognized his new surroundings. Or the lack of them. Total darkness. The occasional flicker of light. Sound. Pain. He was back in the lab. In stasis. Waiting while Taz’s memories were stripped, listening while Taz was tested by untold horrors.
Do as we say. Do not question. Do not think. There is no memory except this.
But always, he and Taz did remember. They had a pact, had sworn they would not forget. And sooner or later it all came back. Or worse, only parts of it.
Like this sensation of being buried alive. Max was in a coffin now, being sunk lower and lower into the ground, buried by an avalanche of dirt.
The horror replayed in his mind. The oxygen was running out. He was suffocating. He’d been tied down, but had broken free. But he couldn’t lift the coffin’s lid, the mountain of dirt was too heavy.
“Max, help me!”
He recognized Erin’s voice now. The thought that she was here, buried alive in some pit beside him, threatened to snap his sanity.
Steeling his strength, Max pressed against the lid that held him trapped, felt his muscles begin to cramp, to tear.
“Erin! I’m here!”
He bolted upright in bed, dazed and confused, and realized he’d been dreaming. He was in a…room…a motel. And Erin was here—not there.
Her soft cries, however, told a different story. He heard her thrash against the sheets and caught a flash of her dreams. Jesus! He’d somehow pulled Erin into his nightmare and she was still trapped there.
Still buried in that hell.
He sprang from his bed and reached for her. “Erin. Wake up. It’s me.”
“Help…make them stop.” Her hands flailed about her head as if she were trying to shove away goggles. Earphones.
Just as they’d shared the erotic beach dream earlier, she now seemed locked in Max’s horrible recall of the lab.
Grabbing her shoulders, Max shook her. When she didn’t awaken, he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom. Turning the shower on COLD, he held her beneath the icy spray, soaking both of them in the process.
Erin stiffened and screamed as her eyes opened and met his.
“Max! Oh, Max!” She started sobbing, her shoulders shuddering with each cry.
It didn’t seem to register that she was soaking wet as she clawed her way up his chest, crawling into his embrace.
“Shhhh. I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
Max shut off the water and scooped her back into his arms.
She had her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried against his throat as she continued to cry. She was shaking. Cold and scared.
Shifting her to rest against the bathroom counter, he stripped away her wet clothes. Then he wrapped her in a towel and carried her back to the bedroom.
“Don’t turn out that light,” she pleaded, pointing to the bathroom light he’d left on. “And don’t leave me.”
He set her on the bed, but she shot back to her feet as if the bed were alive.
Max knew what she was feeling, remembered it well. He also recalled how desperately he’d wanted her touch after the hypnosis session. How her touch had grounded him.
He tugged her back into his arms. She came willingly, still shaking.
Beneath the towel she kept clasped tightly around her shoulders, she was naked. But Max’s wet clothes blocked the precious body heat she sought. He stepped back.
Immediately she protested. “No! Please!”
“I’m just peeling off my shirt, my jeans. I’m soaked.”
“Hurry.”
The moment Max kicked away his jeans, Erin pressed back into his arms. Seeking warmth. Shelter. He picked her back up and eased into the bed, slipping them both beneath the covers. The towel fell away, but she seemed not to notice.
He kept Erin on his chest with his arms crossed over her back. Her breasts flattened against him, her nipples hard little pearls.
“Don’t let me go,” she whispered. “Don’t ever let me go, Max.”
“I won’t.” He rocked her, making soothing noises until her trembling had subsided and her tears dried.
She wiggled and Max relaxed his grip—reluctant to let her go.
“We were sharing a dream again, weren’t we?” she asked.
“Yes. It’s got to be related to the link we have. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to undo it.”
“What I saw…is that, was that what you endured?”
“Yes.”
“How did you stand it? I thought I was dying.”
How many times had Max prayed for death? “Taz would talk to me. We could get inside each other’s head. Sharing helped some. But when the pain would get so bad I couldn’t stand it, he’d remind me that one of us would escape. That we’d help the other. No matter what. And if that failed to work, he’d tell me stories of exploring with Stony. He knew the stories because I told them to him. Described every rock, every step to get there.” I’m coming, Taz.
“But—”
“Shhh. We’ll talk later. Go back to sleep.”
“I can’t sleep. Not after that.” She pressed her nose into his chest then and drew a line of tiny kisses between his nipples.
Max’s erection was instantaneous. His cock swelled and pressed against her. She shifted downward and rubbed against him.
“I dreamed about this first, Max. About being on that beach, kissing you. But I wanted more than a kiss.”
The more part of him just grew harder.
“I want to make love to you, Max,” she whispered. “Don’t say no.”
“Yes.” He raised his head and kissed her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her mouth fully as she slid to his side. Max followed, never breaking the kiss. Taking the kiss deeper.
This new position, side by side, gave them each fuller access. His hand caught her breast and squeezed as her fingers closed around his swollen erection.
She moaned. “I want more.”
He shifted his lips to the soft skin of her throat before moving lower. He wanted more, too. Kissing the curve of her breast, he caught a taut nipple and laved it with his tongue.
He started to suck, then lightly nipped before switching to the other breast. Her hands caressed and stroked until he had to pull away.
Pushing her onto her back, he hovered over her, running kisses down her ribs. He wanted only to bring her pleasure, wanting her to think of nothing but him. Shifting lower still, he kissed the dark triangle of curls between her legs.
She cried out. “Max. I—”
“I know.” Taking his time, he kissed the insides of her thighs down to her knees. Then he slowly licked his way back up to those tempting curls. “Open for me, Erin.”
She spread her legs wider and let out a soft sound as he lowered his mouth and suckled gently on her clitoris. Erin bucked, her hands encouraging, guiding.
He gave her one intense orgasm, wished he had the patience to give her another. He didn’t. He slid a finger inside, teasing and massaging, giving her pleasure as he prepared her body for his.
He kissed back up from her abdomen to her breasts, settling his weight between her legs.
“I’m on the pill,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.”
Birth control was the last thing on his mind as he eased his throbbing cock into her, inch by inch, until he was finally in.
“You feel so good,” she whispered as she lifted a leg to wrap around his hip. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t.” Max slid deeper as she arched against him.
“Oh, God! I’m…I’m…”
“I’m coming, too,” Max finished for her.
Then he was lost in the sublime and shattering sensation of hot need exploding, taking them both over the edge.
Back into a deep, soulful sleep.
Chapter 28
Singapore
September 24
There were favors; then there were big, gigantic favors.
Rocco knew he owed Diego more than money. In fact, Travis Franks now owed Diego a favor, too, which was a rare and powerful thing. In some parts of the world, you could trade a favor like that for ownership in, say, a small country.
Still Diego looked very unhappy as Rocco watched him pace outside on the porch, a cell phone pressed to his ear. They were holed up in a safe house, awaiting transport out of the country.
Bangkok was officially off Rocco’s list for a while, maybe permanently. Which wasn’t a bad thing. His most recent trips had all been do-or-die. That he’d survived again was sheer luck.
But Lady Luck had her limits. And Rocco knew it.
The doctor, who had been tending Rufin, now handed Rocco a small bottle of pills. “Painkillers. One every four hours. He’s pretty sore from me poking around, but he should be fine after a few days of rest.” The doctor, who had appeared at Travis’s behest, nodded to the bed. Rufin was pale as the sheets. “He lost a lot of blood, but as bullet wounds go, his was pretty clean.”
Rocco had gotten Diego to fly them under the radar, out of Bangkok, in his personal helicopter. Diego promptly went out and orchestrated a large arms deal to provide himself cover for the trip. Guns weren’t typically his forte—but in economic hard times, even crooks were forced to take on odd jobs.
And in this instance, the CIA was buying the arms, through a variety of covers, naturally.
As soon as the doctor left, Rocco poured a glass of water and went over to the bed. Rufin’s eyes tracked him.
“Here. This will help the pain.” Rocco shook a tablet out then waited while Rufin swallowed.
“I suppose I should have gone with you in the f-f-first place,” Rufin said. “Bohdana would still be alive. And this”—he glanced at his shoulder—“wouldn’t have happened either.”
“I wouldn’t spare a lot of pity for that broad. She sold you out.”
“Yes, but you didn’t watch her d-d-die. Maybe it’s easier for you.”
“It’s never easy. Anyone who tells you otherwise is lying or insane.”
Earlier, Rufin had told Rocco about the man who’d killed Bohdana. Rufin had no name and the description rang no bells. That the man had chosen to stash Rufin with Jengho Vato meant the mystery man was likely a colleague of Jengho’s.
That Rufin was involved in the manufacture of SugarCane explained Jengho’s and Minh Tran’s interest. It also made Rufin one valuable SOB.
Rocco pulled a chair up to the bed.
“Where are you taking me?” Rufin asked.
“To the U.S. I’m sure we can arrange asylum in exchange for what you know of Dr. Zadovsky’s work. We also want to know what was done to the two men we rescued. The man you called Hades is my friend, Max.”
Rufin looked at him credulously. “You mean they survived? Did Taz regain consciousness?”
“Yes.” Rocco wasn’t going to tell Rufin that both men were on the run. “Why does that surprise you?”
“They typically need medicine to control s-s-seizures. And Taz’s programming was interrupted. It should have killed him.”
“What exactly were you and Zadovsky doing at that lab?” As much as Rocco held Rufin fully responsible, he was trying to keep his questions couched in sympathetic tones to get answers.
Rufin sighed and closed his eyes, but kept on talking as if tired of holding it in.
“Dr. Zadovsky had practically p-p-perfected a method of mind control. It involved drugs and cellular reprogramming; but it worked almost one hundred percent of the time.”
“Cellular reprogramming?”
“Amnesia was chemically induced, then holographic sensory feedback—reprogramming—was input using all five senses. We also found that by attaching diodes to the muscles while transmitting those same programs, the input was absorbed instantly. It then became a matter of fine tuning that input. We even gave them false histories to draw from. Both subjects scored high.”
“It was a game?” Rocco wished he had a tape recorder. As it was, Rufin would have to repeat this story numerous times.
“You could liken it to a form of virtual reality, but with bigger stakes.”
“Could you make them do anything?”
“Almost. As long as it didn’t conflict with their moral values.”
“So you couldn’t make them murder someone in cold blood—unless they were already cold-blooded murderers?”
Rufin looked uncomfortable. “Zadovsky was convinced that with the right programming, he could overcome even that. He was experimenting with overriding morals in other ways. Killing someone isn’t inconceivable for someone l-l-like you. You have rules of engagement that are surprisingly easy to manipulate. But would you ever consider raping a woman?”
“Jesus! No!” Rocco was angry now. “Is that what you made them do?”
“Zadovsky tried with Taz. But he attempted suicide afterward. We—I erased the program from him.”
“Like that makes it all better?” Rocco forced a calmer tone. “What about Max?”
“It never worked with him. No matter how much pain and abuse Max suffered, he didn’t break.”
Rocco held up a hand, suddenly having his own moral battle. He wanted to beat the shit out of Rufin. To make him pay. Except that wasn’t how it worked. Besides, if there was one person in the world entitled to bend the rules and use Rufin for a punching bag, it was Max.
“There will be others with more questions, but let me ask you this. Can you really replicate Zadovsky’s work?”
Rufin’s eyes filled with tears. “Will they kill me if I can’t?”
“No. Y
ou won’t be walking the streets a free man, but you won’t be abused.”
“Z-Z-Zadovsky seemed unable to replicate his own work, so honestly I don’t know if I can either. Perhaps with time. And provided I can recover Zadovsky’s research data.”
“Was that data on the computers we took from the lab?”
“Some, yes. But—” Rufin looked down at his hands. “The really critical information is on microchips that are implanted in Taz. I’ll have to surgically remove them from him.”
Rocco tugged his phone out, to call Travis. He didn’t care what time it was in the States.
Diego came in just then. He stood in the door and motioned Rocco to follow.
Rocco knew by Diego’s expression that whatever it was, it was bad.
“I’ll be back,” Rocco said to Rufin.
Diego didn’t speak until they were in the kitchen. “The dead shooter from that speed boat has been identified. It was Minh Tran’s youngest son. Apparently the kid was hoping to impress his old man by spearheading the search for Rufin. I have to find those two mercenaries before Tran does.”
“I’ll help,” Rocco said.
“No. I can’t afford any more of your help.” Diego frowned, clearly worried. “I suggest you get Rufin out of here fast, too. Minh Tran’s pulling out all the stops on this one. It’s fixing to go supernova ugly.”
Chapter 29
Gallup, New Mexico
September 24
Max woke, realized Erin was climbing out of bed. The last time he’d looked at the clock, it was after three. O’dark-thirty. They had just made love a second time. Now it was nearly eight. The sun was up and he felt…incredible.
He gently grasped her wrist, stopping her.
“Did I wake you?” she whispered.
“No.” His eyes caught the slight abrasions on her neck and breasts. From his beard. Call him a chauvinistic pig, but the primitive sense of seeing his mark on his woman felt righteous.
She glanced down, saw what he stared at.
“Sore?” he asked.
“Not…there.”
He smiled and realized his headache was completely gone for the first time since he’d come to in the hospital. Making love to Erin was deeply healing. And addictive. Already his body wanted more.