by Sydney Croft
Dev narrowed his eyes. “You understand how much is riding on your ability to tell them apart.”
“Of course I do. And I do know her better than anyone.” Maybe even better than she knew herself, if that was possible.
“If you take this on—”
“I am taking this on,” Stryker interrupted. As he got up, the walls began to shake and he stood toe-to-toe with Dev, and yeah, bad idea, because Devlin’s temper flamed as effectively as Phoebe’s.
Within seconds, Dev slammed against him, pinning him to the wall with a surprising strength for a man who wasn’t an excedo. “Shut it down and listen to me, you dumbshit. You got too close. Sex on the job works when it’s for intel. You got your intel and you continued screwing around with a woman who is the enemy.”
Stryker remained with Devlin’s arm across his windpipe, knowing full well he was putting his life in Dev’s hands. “Phoebe is the enemy, Mel isn’t. Don’t you dare insinuate that I insulted Akbar’s memory,” he croaked.
“I didn’t do anything of the sort,” Dev said quietly as the pressure increased on Stryker’s throat. “I guess that was your guilty conscience whispering in your ear.”
“Fuck you, Devlin.” Stryker growled the words through gritted teeth because it was better than breaking down again. Doing so once—and in Mel’s arms, no less—was enough.
“If you’re unsure at all about Melanie—”
“I’m not.”
Devlin’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t say anything else when he moved away to let Stryker breathe again.
Stryker coughed, drew in a full breath, and then pushed away from the wall. Devlin spoke before Stryker had a chance to say anything.
“Obviously, Melanie has trouble controlling her temper flares as well,” Dev commented. “You seem to know about that.”
Stryker ignored the well-deserved dig. “Phoebe knows how to control her powers. Mel doesn’t. She can shoot and score, but she can’t stop herself from using it all up in one or two shots. She improved in a short amount of time—and under pressure—when she helped us escape from the underground prison in Rome, but she’ll need a lot of training before she’s consistent.”
“Then you’ll work with her in a safe location. You can teach her as well as anyone. And you can practice your self-control at the same time,” Devlin said. “I realize that her powers pulled at your elementalist side, but now that you recognize the problem, you can fight it. How long does it take her to recharge her powers?”
“Twenty-four to forty-eight hours for a full recharge, although with every hour, she gets a little stronger.”
“But there’s a way she can charge fully—and fast—right?” Dev asked. “One you’ve gotten a little too much pleasure out of.”
“Yes.” Stryker wasn’t about to give the man any more fodder.
“Since she won’t need to recharge her powers quickly, she can let it happen the old-fashioned way—with time and rest. Better that we never have her at full charge anyway, correct?”
Stryker felt himself tense, knowing this was—and would continue to be—a giant test of his self-control. Already he was uncertain, but Devlin was leaving him no room for choice.
Still, he didn’t answer and Devlin didn’t push. The man would simply assume that an order given was an order followed.
“If what Melanie’s saying is true—that she wants a chance at a new life with ACRO—she’ll play an integral part in Itor’s takedown.” Dev’s gaze drilled into Stryker, as if daring him to argue. “We have a once-and-for-all shot at destroying them. We need to take that opportunity. But she has to know she’s putting her life on the line, no matter which agency she chooses. She might not make it out of this alive.”
“None of us might,” Stryker added. “And we’re all still willing.”
“That’s good to hear.” Dev paused. “The science lab will verify and reproduce the shots Melanie brought with her. Check on them in the morning. For tonight, let Melanie sleep off Phoebe in the cave. You can pick her up tomorrow, take her to medical for some tests I want done, and then keep her with you until nightfall. She’s not to leave your sight for any reason.”
Stryker nodded. “I’m sorry, Devlin. Learning about her must’ve been hard.”
When Devlin didn’t answer, Stryker took that as a sign he’d been dismissed. He was at the door when Devlin spoke again.
“Stryker?”
Stryker didn’t turn around—didn’t want to—but he paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”
“For the record, Akbar would be damned proud of you for trying to help an agent in need.”
Stryker rested his forehead on the door frame and closed his eyes. “Would he forgive me, though?”
“He’d tell you that you need to forgive yourself first.”
“Easier said than done,” he mumbled, and heard Devlin saying “I know that too” as Stryker exited the office.
“You’re pushing too hard.”
Dev gritted his teeth as he pushed the weight bar off his chest, an inhuman sound escaping his throat. “You saying I’m old?”
“You’re not young.” Ender cocked an eyebrow. “What are you trying to prove—that you could take down Itor all by yourself if you wanted?”
“Yes.” Dev grunted out another rep with a weight Ender could no doubt lift with his dick, his arms shaking so badly the bar only made it halfway before it began to come down toward his chest.
“ ’Kay, s’long as we’re clear on you setting realistic goals.” Ender leaned over as the weight forced the bar to crush Dev’s throat. “Want me to take that now, big guy?”
“Fuck. You.”
“I’ll leave that to your young man,” Ender said with a smile, and, yes, Dev would find a way to make the excedo pay. Having children had only made the man more of an asshole, if that was even possible—and Ender seemed to relish the title.
Ender took the bar off him, finally, and Dev lay there limp, panting. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.”
At least Ender knew to quit when he was ahead, sauntered out of the semi-private excedo gym as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Devlin remained prone, catching his breath and stewing about what lay ahead.
He had Alek’s daughter in his possession. Whether or not Alek knew—or suspected—was a subject of much debate among the psychics at ACRO. They were hard at work, as was the IT department, trying to figure out if there was chatter about Alek’s missing prodigy.
Stryker believed in Melanie, enough to agree to shadow her. Devlin couldn’t read either Phoebe or Melanie’s mind, a fact that bothered him immensely. He’d lied to Phoebe when he said he could read her, but truth was he’d have to rely on his other senses to see if he was being bullshitted.
He scrubbed his face with his palms and wished his plan was taking better shape. He’d always been good at coordinating strike attacks—it was one of his strengths. He wasn’t sure if he was simply too close to the target this time … but something was off.
He was about to get up and head to the showers when Gabriel strolled in, wearing sweats and a tank top, and Devlin wanted nothing more than to fuck him, right on this bench. His reaction to the boy was that instantaneous.
Gabe stopped short when he saw Devlin. “I thought this gym was for the excedos only.” Yes, Gabe was still pissed, even though he sported an erection as hard as Devlin’s own.
“Excedos and the man who runs the place,” Devlin pointed out, and Gabe shrugged like that didn’t impress him at all.
Correction, Devlin’s job didn’t impress him—not in a star-fucker kind of way. Devlin knew that Gabe wasn’t with him because of who he was.
Actually, these days, Dev had to admit he wasn’t sure why Gabriel was with him at all. Marlena was right—Dev hadn’t given him much reason to hang in there, beyond the sex.
“That still doesn’t answer the question,” Gabe pointed out.
Breathe, Devlin. Just breathe and keep your temper. “I was training with En
der.”
“You could’ve asked me, you know.”
He could have. Probably, he should have. “I didn’t think you were speaking to me.”
“You don’t ask me for anything even when we are speaking.”
“Christ, when did you turn into a girl?”
Yes, that certainly did it. Gabriel punched the wall, collapsing the cement in a nice, round circle and proving he was not a girl, and then he left, stalking out in a way that made Dev horny.
Gabriel always made him horny. All the training, the testosterone, was just making Dev want him more. Want it more.
“What are you going to do, order him to come back?” he muttered to himself.
“You could try asking.”
Dev shot up, because that was Oz’s voice. And when his dead lover finally deigned to talk to him, Dev was sure as hell going to listen.
That didn’t mean he was going to take Oz’s shit lying down. “Fuck you, Oz. What? You want to watch?”
“I do, sometimes.”
“Asshole,” Devlin muttered, still refusing to turn around to the place Oz’s voice was coming from.
“You never minded that,” Oz said. “And you’re really fucking things up.”
“Thanks for pointing out my shortcomings. Always a pleasure to have you visit.”
“I sent Gabriel to you because that’s the way it was always meant to be. I can’t force things to happen, but I can move them along in the right direction,” Oz told him. “But Gabriel’s meant to be here, at ACRO, as more than just your lover. You know that. And you’re holding back, hurting yourself and him and ACRO, by not sharing information because you’re embarrassed by your heritage, and you’re afraid he’ll be repulsed enough to leave you. You’re holding him at arm’s length to protect yourself. Not him.”
“Why are you lecturing me?”
“I’m not telling you anything your own conscience hasn’t, Devlin. That was quite a pot-calling-the-kettle-black conversation you had with Stryker earlier.”
Devlin turned to see Oz sitting on one of the weight benches in his black leather, looking completely real and not at all corporeal.
Goddammit, he hated that Oz knew him so well.
“I know. It’s why you don’t want Gabe to know you—why you keep shoving him away. But when I’m gone, who’s going to call you on your shit?”
Gone? “What do you mean gone?”
“Ah, Dev, come on. We’ve known each other too long to play games. I’m not hanging around forever. I’m not part of a soul posse. I bought some extra time, but that’s all.” Oz’s voice was gentle but his words weren’t. “Gabe’s a big part of your plan. Tell him everything. Let him help you.”
Dev turned away. “How is he going to help me?”
“You’d be surprised what happens when you let someone inside, Devlin. But you already knew that.”
When Devlin turned around with a retort, Oz was gone.
Stryker could keep track of me … Phoebe is terrified of his power.
Melanie had asked for him. Wanted to be with him. And he was fully aware that this could all be a well-executed plan to cut his balls off and take ACRO down from the inside.
Could be. But it wasn’t.
Going over all of it in his mind made Stryker sleep restlessly, if he could even call what he did sleep. Frustrated, he threw the covers on the floor and paced around his house on the west side of the ACRO compound, the one he’d moved into when he’d turned twenty-four and completed his first solo mission. He’d lived here ever since, in the three-bedroom, two-story house with the big deck and the hot tub and various other amenities he’d put in over the years.
There was no need to ready a guest room. Dev had all but ordered Stryker to stay with Mel, which meant if she needed a nap she would sleep in his bed and he would stay in a chair watching her.
The thought of being around her and letting her arouse him by using her powers made his throat tighten. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to keeping a tight rein on himself … but something about Mel stirred him in a way that seemed to make control impossible.
What if control was impossible around her? Was he supposed to choose between fucking and an earthquake that could take out the compound?
Thinking about sex while knowing he couldn’t have sex was making him too damned grumpy. He watched TV for a while. Used the weight room at two A.M. and saw Gabe slam in a few minutes later.
Guess Dev was still pissed as hell and Gabe was bearing the brunt of it, from the way he viciously slammed the weights around.
Stryker had been doing his own slamming, trying to get rid of the nervous and angry energy that had built up over the past hours. The two men wordlessly spotted each other through a brutal workout and then Gabriel went for a run, while Stryker used the sauna and showered.
Sometime after six, he grabbed breakfast to go from the cafeteria and headed to the fireproof cave they’d locked Mel in last night.
Mel, because he refused to think of her as the same person as fire-bitch. They might share one body but they were two completely separate people.
He moved past security by showing his ID—Devlin had put his name on the list and the guard had been waiting for him.
Stryker walked up to the stone structure, which was fronted by a single fireproof pane of glass.
She was sleeping. They’d kept her in the fireproof blanket for safekeeping, which couldn’t have been comfortable all night. When she woke, she’d be Mel, and she’d be looking for him.
“I’m taking her with me,” Stryker told the guard. “I just need to wake her up and make sure everything’s fine before you open the door.”
He looked through the window and tapped lightly. Mel’s eyes opened and she looked around, half startled. He tapped again and she looked up and saw his face through the glass, gave an unabashed smile before she pulled it back.
The natural, unguarded reaction tugged at him.
“You can open it now,” he told the guard, who still hesitated. “Give me the keys and I’ll do it.”
The guard did as he asked. Stryker couldn’t blame the guy for worrying about being deep fried—Phoebe’s threats had been detailed and extreme.
Stryker unlocked the heavy door and pulled it open. Mel watched him enter the room as she struggled to sit up with the weight of the blanket around her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Phoebe took over a few minutes after I got here, so I don’t remember much. I’m fine, though.” She paused. “Do you have the shots I need?”
“We’re going to pick them up from medical when I take you there for some tests. But we’ll do that after you eat breakfast,” he said, and saw her face light again.
“You mean—I can leave here, go with you?”
He stood over her. “Devlin agreed. And now my ass is on the line, Mel.”
“I understand.”
“I hope you do. Because I’ll be put down if this gets out of hand.” He undid the lock around the fireproof blanket and pointed to the narrow doorway that led to the bathroom. She practically ran there, the poor thing, and when she came out, she looked much calmer.
He motioned for her to follow him out, which she did. The guards kept their distance and Stryker motioned for her to sit at the table outside the cave, next to him, where he’d laid out her food.
She didn’t hesitate, dug into the breakfast enthusiastically.
“We’ll grab more on the way back from medical,” he told her after seeing her demolish the eggs and bacon and pancakes. He remembered how she was on the plane at the thought of not being allowed to eat—he never wanted her to feel that fear again. She nodded, leaned back for a second with her hands over her tummy as if letting everything digest.
“After that?”
“We’ll go to my house,” he said, more gruffly than he intended to. “Let’s get moving.”
As they walked out of the security section and through the compound, Mel was brimming with questions. In
nocent ones about the different units, and the different badges on the BDUs, but every answer he gave could arm Phoebe, so he was careful.
Once at the medical facility, he waited while Mel was run through a battery of tests—MRI, EEG, blood draws … all of which she handled without a single complaint. Afterward, they headed to the pharmacy.
“Everyone seems … happy,” she said as they sat in a small room, waiting for the injections to keep Phoebe at bay.
“Well, not all the time, but yeah, this is a really cool place,” he agreed.
“When did they recruit you?” she asked, but before he could answer, the cool voice of the nurse interrupted.
“Stryker was born here.” The nurse, Kylie, smiled at Stryker as she handed him the bag full of hypodermics. “We think we successfully duplicated the formula, but you might want to be alert after the first injection to be sure it works. This is a week’s supply. Just call me if you need more—you know my number. Make sure to inject her every—”
“I know when to give myself the shots,” Mel said, slipping Stryker a sweet smile—and okay, then, this was … weird. “Come on, I’m hungry.”
She tugged his hand possessively, with an assurance that made Kylie turn away with a pout.
They walked along, hand in hand, to the caf.
“An old girlfriend?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” he muttered, and she didn’t press it. He wondered if it was bad that her possessiveness turned him on, so much so that he found himself fantasizing about stripping her of her clothes and taking her in an open field.
Well, it was bad since he was forbidden to take her clothes off at all. Fuck. He took his hand out of hers to open the door to the caf and followed her inside.
“Those are the men from the plane,” she said, right before they got in line, and yes, Ender and Wyatt and Avery had strolled in together, no doubt fresh from a debriefing. “I’m sure they’re okay guys.”
“Wyatt is. I don’t know Avery well, but Ender’s an asshole and really proud of it,” he told her. “Grab your food to go. We’ll make a trip to the store later … if you can cook.”