“I’m worried that we haven’t heard from Jenica yet,” she answers. “That can’t be good.”
“Jenica’s got her hands full with all the refugees from this hideout. There were over a hundred of them that needed to be signed in and placed in rooms. I’m sure that Bravo team is back by now and both Gage and Jenica are debriefing the Professor on each mission. Don’t worry. No news is good news.”
“I guess you’re right. I can’t wait to get out of here, it’s too quiet. It makes no sense to me that the M.P.s haven’t showed up yet.”
“You’re right, but we’ve got half our security team at the entrance watching for signs of trouble and everyone has a comm. device and knows the plan of action for when they come. Stop worrying.” I say this with a smile, which causes her grin back. Light floods my insides because of that simple gesture and my free hand comes up to her other shoulder of its own free will.
“I know I worry too much,” she says, her last word trailing off on a groan as I hit a particularly tender spot on her shoulders. “Damn it, Dax, that feels good.”
I have to swallow hard to breath past the lump in my throat as blood surges away from my brain and toward other parts of my anatomy. I can think of about a hundred other things I could do to her that would feel good and right now there isn’t much between us to stop me. Just space and opportunity. And, of course, the mental wall that Blythe erects between herself and everyone she knows. Even I—her closest friend—stand just on the outside of that wall, looking over the top and waiting for her to throw me a bone.
She leans her head forward, resting it on the center of my chest as I work my fingers over her loosening muscles. She breathes heavily against my t-shirt, her warm breath seeping through the fabric and tickling across my skin. I groan and push her away a bit, my arms straining against the impulse to push her against the wall and kiss her senseless.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, genuinely oblivious to the pain I’m feeling below the belt.
“Blythe, there’s only so much of a warm, soft body against him that a guy can take before nature kicks in.”
She raises her eyebrows and laughs. “Dax, you’re such a man-whore.”
All I can do is stare, my mouth hanging open a bit. No, I’m not a boy scout. I’m a guy, and when I’m itching I scratch; when I’m horny … well, I handle it. Most of the time with Olivia, but always safely and never with someone who is looking for attachment.
“Is that what you think of me?”
Her amusement melts away and horror replaces it, her eyes going wide as if she suddenly realizes what she just said.
“Come on, Dax,” she says softly, “I didn’t mean it that way.”
I can’t help feeling hurt, and I’m not as good as Jenica at hiding how I feel. I place a little distance between us before the anger makes me do something I’d regret.
“It’s cool. At least I know how you feel. Maybe you should stay out of my bed when you can’t sleep them. I wouldn’t want you to have to worry about guarding your virtue around the ‘man-whore’.”
“Dax, wait!”
Her voice causes me to pause in the doorway, just as I’m about to leave. I’m not usually so sensitive, but for some reason knowing that she feels that way about me leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
I turn on her, gripping her by her shoulders and force her to look at me … and I mean really look at me and not just through me as she tends to do.
“Have I given you any reason to doubt my intentions toward you?” I ask her, my voice coming out rougher than I intend it to.
Shocked, she lets out a sound that sounds faintly like a squeak and shakes her head ‘no’.
“And have I done anything other than protect you and care for you above anyone else?”
This time, she actually answers me. “No, you haven’t.”
“But it’s just not good enough, is it?” I’m rambling, I know, but I can’t help myself. When it comes to Blythe, I’ve kept quiet for so long. “Maybe what you really want is for me to stop playing the gentleman with you. I mean, it hasn’t exactly gotten me anywhere all this time.”
I’ve released her from my hold, but she hasn’t moved from her spot against the wall. I don’t need a bionic eye to know that her heart rate is climbing and her temperature right along with it. Heat emanates from her, and the sound of her breath sawing in and out of her lungs is the only sound between us until she finds her voice again.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says.
Those damn walls are back up again, because Blythe can’t stand to let someone see her vulnerable. But I know better than anybody how to get to her.
I take the last step separating us, until my hands are braced on either side of her against the wall and our bodies are touching. My blood is at the boiling point and every fiber of my being has come alive like it always does when I’m close to her. Through her thin tank top and cargo pants, I can feel just about every inch of her underneath; soft, warm, feminine … mine! Possessiveness grips me and I know—now that she’s within my grasp, I can’t let her go, I can’t stop now.
“Liar,” I whisper, my breath teasing the loose tendrils of hair coming undone from her ponytail. “You know. You’ve always known. But I’ve let you go on pretending that you don’t see what’s right in front of your face. Maybe what you really needed all this time was for me to stop letting you off the hook. I’ve never been one to beat around the bush, Blythe. I only do that with you. But I’m done. You want the truth? Here it is.”
When I finally touch her lips with mine, the moment is not sweet and my touch is not gentle. It’s an outright assault. I’ve waited too long to even think about going slow with her. I need her to feel what I haven’t been able to say with words. She stiffens against me for a fraction of a second, but I’m not having that. By the time my hands come up to her waist in a brutal caress, my fingers digging into her skin as I skim them upwards toward her ribs, she’s melting into me in submission.
She might as well have laid out a goddamn welcome mat.
She gasps when I jerk her closer, my hands roaming down to her hips, kneading, caressing, feeling—fulfilling every desire I’ve had since the first time I held Blythe in my arms. A sound like a primal growl comes from between us, and I’m faintly aware of the fact that it is me, but I’m too far gone to care. I want her to hear my sounds of possession as I slide my tongue into her mouth, finding hers and tasting it for the first time, drunk from the feeling of pleasure that the simple act gives me.
Blythe responds in a way I never expected, her hands coming up to the back of my neck and her fingernails making tiny half-moons in my skin as she digs in and holds on for dear life. It hurts, but I welcome the pain as it mingles with the pleasure, racing down my spine in a combination that leaves me weak in the knees.
When I lift her, she wraps her legs around my waist without hesitation and within seconds, I’ve got her laid across a gleaming, steel table. Comm. devices, batteries and various other odds and ends find a new home on the floor. I lean down to kiss her again, suckling her lower lip between mine before biting down on it gently. She gasps as if surprised and then moans when my hands find their way beneath her shirt. The feel of her bare skin against my fingertips has me so cranked up, I hardly notice the sound of the door opening behind us.
The shocked gasp of the person who catches us registers, though, and Blythe and I leap away from each other as if we’ve been burned.
“I’m so sorry,” Laura says softly. “I need to speak with you when you have a moment,” she adds before the sound of her boots and the closing of the door tells me she is gone. Blythe is still on the edge of the table, though she’s scooted as far away from me as she can get. I’m not far from where I was a moment ago, my hands braced on the table’s edge as I fight to catch my breath.
Kissing Blythe was like drowning in an ocean of sensations. My senses are in overdrive and I swear I can practically smell her from across the room. I can
’t even look at her, because I know her face is flushed and her lips are swelling from my less-than-gentle kiss. The sight of her alone is enough to set me off right now.
Once I’m sure I’ve gotten my impulses under control, I force myself to look at her. She slides off the edge of the table and turns to face me, though her eyes aren’t really reaching mine. She’s staring at some point over my shoulder.
She clears her throat. “You should go see what it is they want,” Blythe says hoarsely.
I nod. “Yeah, but I—”
“Now’s not the time,” she interjects. Damn, I hate when she’s right. We’re in the middle of a situation that could turn dangerous at any moment. We don’t know where the reinforcements are, but we’ve dealt with the M.P.s enough to know that they’re coming and that they are pissed. We need to be on our toes and this other stuff—no matter how important it might feel to me—can wait.
“You’re right. Talk later?” I ask.
She finally looks up at me and tries to smile, though I can see through it to her uncertainty. She’s nervous now, and maybe even a bit frightened of me. Good. I’m sick of being dependable ole Dax, loyal and faithful friend. I have always wanted to be more to her and now she knows. She can’t hide from me any longer.
Dax Janner and Blythe Sol
Resistance Hideout in Memphis, Tennessee
August 18, 4010
1:30 a.m.
When Blythe and I rejoin the others in the cafeteria, a deadly silence has fallen over our group and it immediately sets me on edge.
“Something’s wrong,” I say to Laura, who’s standing there watching me with a grim expression on her face.
She nods. “You two should come with me. You’ll want to see this.”
What is she talking about? There I go being impatient again. As Blythe and I follow her toward the living area of the large, open space, my mind is reeling with the possibilities. Whatever has gone wrong, it’s enough to make people get the hell out of our way as we cut a swath through those gathered in front of a small, flat television panel. It’s an older unit, but the picture’s clear. Two news anchors are delivering a report, as white letters scroll across a red bar through the center of the screen. The sound is too low but I can see the words as clear as day as two chairs are vacated for our use.
RESTORATION RESISTANCE TERRORIST CAPTURED IN WASHINGTON D.C.
In the corner, a picture of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and very battered Olivia McNabb stares back at us, her eyes wide with fright. Blythe gasps, and my hands clench into fists as Laura steps between our chairs with a remote in her hand. As the volume increases, I force myself to swallow the bile building up in the back of my throat and still the roaring of blood in my ears. I sneak a peek at Blythe and her usually deep, caramel-colored skin is now tinged green. I want to reach out and comfort her, but I don’t know if the gesture will be misconstrued as something else after our kiss in the control room.
I return my focus back to the perfectly groomed and starched news anchor reading from a teleprompter.
“This just in ... an attack on the Stonehead facility in the nation’s capital, where several Bionics were scheduled for execution in just a few hours, resulted in a standoff that lasted through the night has now ended, according law enforcement. The terrorist group known as Restoration Resistance, reportedly sent in a group of militants to free the prisoners in what has been described as a well-planned and tactical offensive strategy. The terrorists were said to be in possession of specialized EMP signal, which they used to cut power to the entire facility, without causing harm to their own hovercraft or weapons. Officers say they eventually were able to restore power to their weapons, but not before some of their own were killed in the fray. The scene at Stonehead was eerily dark during the standoff, but night vision cameras captured the footage we are bringing to you now.”
The prison video camera feed fills the screen and we watched as Olivia, Gage and the other members of our team fought for their lives. I watch Olivia become a blur as she races from cell to cell, using one of the M.P.s laser guns to blast the locks before sliding the iron gates open and freeing the prisoners. Gage uses his body to block those running to escape, firing back at the M.P.s cloistered at the end of the hall in formation, hiding behind their riot shields as they fire back.
Blythe gasps as one of the glowing red beams strikes Olivia, causing her to fall to her face, stunned. Without missing a beat, Gage rushes forward and throws Olivia over his shoulder, careful to keep his weapon trained on the M.P.s, who are slowly inching forward with their riot shields in place.
“They think he’s one of us,” I murmur to myself. Otherwise, the M.P.s wouldn’t be tiptoeing around Gage the way they are. They could see that Olivia was fast, but they don’t know what, if any, tricks Gage has up his sleeve. He’s in deep shit when they find out he’s got nothing but a gun and a set of huge balls. The other members of the team close in around him, forming a protective barrier as they fire back at the M.P.s and I realize that something has gone horribly wrong. Agata’s EMP signal should have knocked out the M.P.s’ weapons. That they are still able to fire on Gage and the others has me worried about the little girl. Gage disappears into the circle of bodies and I wonder if this is the moment when he called Jenica for backup.
The video fades as the reporter comes back on screen, the picture of a beaten Olivia taking up the entire right side of the screen.
“Because of the darkness and chaos of the moment, the male accomplices shown in the video have yet to be identified. They are said to have made off with half of the prisoners, but were forced to leave the others behind in favor of making an escape. However, M.P.s were able to detain ten of the prisoners, along with this young woman pictured here. She has been identified as Olivia McNabb, formerly of Los Angeles, California.
"McNabb was a participant in the Restoration Project, in which she received a bionic prosthetic hand to replace one lost in an accident caused by the nuclear attacks of August 15, 4006. She reportedly re-entered the program one year later to receive a set of bionic adrenal glands to replace those lost to cancer due to radiation poisoning. She was said to have gone missing when the President issued his ban on bionic prostheses and ordered all Bionics to report to the nearest Restoration Project facility for decommissioning. She has not been seen or heard from since, but her recent involvement in last night’s attack shows that she has indeed found refuge with the terrorist organization known as the Resistance.”
“Goddamn it!” The expletive falls from my lips unchecked as I pound my closed fists against my thighs.
“Forensic experts are now combing the scene in search of DNA evidence that could shed more light on those unidentified accomplices from the video. Captain Rodney Jones, leader of the elite Military Police corps known as The Enforcers, has vowed to lead the manhunt in search of every member of this terrorist group.”
Olivia’s picture fades and another video feed shows the Captain at a press conference. The audio switches over and as I look into the cold, dark eyes of the man leading the hunt against the people I call my family, I feel an overwhelming urge to go on a little hunt of my own.
“Good evening citizens of the United States of America,” the Captain begins. He’s lifted the face-shield on his uniform, but is every bit the soldier from the neck down. He is flanked by two other officers who have decided to keep their faces hidden. The reporters standing by have gone silent, hanging on to his every word. “At approximately ten o’clock this evening, Stonehead was attacked by a group we all know to be against the best interests of our great nation. President Drummond has worked tirelessly to restore peace and order to our lives ever since the devastating attacks on many of our nation’s largest cities four years ago. I want you to know that I have spoken with the President personally, and he wants you all to be assured that justice will be served.”
"The press didn’t want us to release any information about the victims, whose lives were lost tonight in the standoff a
t Stonehead … they want to hold the faces of the so-called Resistance up and cause us to forget the real heroes here. Private First Class Marcus Jones, Private April Jennings, Specialist Dirk Hanover, Sergeant Davis Marx, and Lieutenant Lexi Sorenson … those are the names of the true heroes tonight. Those are the names I want you to hold in your memory as you shake your heads over this senseless attack. Olivia McNabb is no hero, and neither are Professor Hinkley or his accomplice in the leading of the Resistance, Jenica Swan. They are known terrorists and will be punished within the full letter of the law.”
"Now, as for Olivia McNabb and the remaining prisoners here at Stonehead, we fully intend to carry out the execution, but will push it back until tomorrow morning at 9:00 am. Each prisoner is to be killed by firing squad, an event that is slotted to air live. President Drummond is adamant about sending a message to Professor Neville Hinkley and the other members of this rag-tag squad that calls themselves The Resistance. We will not rest until each and every one of you has been decommissioned or executed, as is your punishment according to the law. I will uphold it as my personal mission to ensure that Americans sleep safely at night without fear of half-human, half-machine monsters terrorizing our streets.”
“That’s enough!” Blythe exclaims. Tears are running down one side of her face, unchecked. I know that grief; it is slowly uncoiling itself in my gut and spreading through the rest of me. By 9:00 am tomorrow, Olivia will be dead.
Laura obliges and turns off the television with a click of her remote, casting the room into complete silence.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly to the two of us. “I didn’t want to upset you, but I thought you’d want to see this. I am sorry about your friend.”
I nod my thanks to Laura, but my focus is on Blythe, who looks as if she’s going to fall to pieces at any moment.
“Hey,” I say, my voice hoarser than I expect it to be. She looks up at me expectantly. “We are going to get her back. Do you hear me? I am going to call Jenica right now and tell her to move her ass so we can get out of this hole in the ground. I don’t care who tries to stop me, I’m going to make sure we get her back. You got that?”
Titanium (Bionics) Page 4