“I guess so,” she said softly, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes. She’d dodged a bullet. Now, if she could get away from Brock without getting herself killed.
***
With Chin by his side, Powell stood in one of several private PMI labs, their location highly secret. Together, they overlooked a dozen willing soldiers strapped to hospital beds, still several injections from completing their conversion to GTECH. All receiving the original GTECH serum—Grade 1—while Chin perfected a newer, faster-acting Grade 2 version. “You’re certain we cannot use the Grade 2 serum to speed up their conversion?” Powell asked.
“Grade 2 is not ready, and to mix the two versions of the serum would mean certain death,” Chin replied, hands in his lab coat. “There is no rushing the process. They are two weeks from being Red Dart ready and impatient to be liberated from those restraints.”
“They’ll be free when they are under Red Dart control and not a minute sooner.”
“From what Jocelyn has told me this can happen twenty-four hours after the final injection,” Chin assured him. “She seems quite certain she’s found a way to overcome the immune function of the soldiers, but only once their bodies have stabilized in their new condition.”
Yes, his little Jocelyn was quite the prize. “It’s time we find out for sure. A dozen soldiers ready for battle two weeks from now is no longer enough. Not with the entire GTECH population trying to stop Red Dart from happening. We have no idea what they might do to stop us. Use the GTECH2 serum. I need an army of GTECHs, and I need them now.”
Chin objected instantly. “General Powell, I must remind you that the GTECH2 serum is a conversion that is rapid and potentially lethal. Those that survive will not only be positive for X2, but the aggression will be magnified times ten. You are talking about a highly volatile soldier. One without a mind for anything but violence. I need time to alter this reaction.”
“Will the GTECH2s be stronger and faster as you promised?”
Chin hesitated, “Yes.”
“And at least half of those dosed will survive?”
“General—”
“I take that as a yes,” he interrupted. “Both Adam and Caleb Rain are after Red Dart. Do you wish to see our country fall to the GTECHs?”
“You know I do not,” Chin replied brusquely. “I need a human test subject.”
“You’ll have Brock West,” he replied, pleased with Chin’s agreement. “I’ve sent orders to have the several hundred recruits scheduled for next week report two days early. We’ll have hundreds of test subjects in forty-eight hours.”
“You do realize that West and anyone we dose before I perfect the serum will be little more than an animal on a leash?”
“The Zodius are animals, Chin,” he said. “I want an animal who can face them and win, who is both powerful and in control of my troops,” he said. “And in case you’ve forgotten, Red Dart is my leash. It’s my method of control.”
“Very well then,” Chin agreed. “I assume I will have the Red Dart application immediately available?”
Powell gave a short nod. “Jocelyn is in the lab next door running final tests even as we speak. We’ll bring West in tonight when he returns from Washington.”
Soon this country would know it was safe and that he alone had kept it that way.
***
After a long delay in Houston, it was early afternoon when Cassandra finally stepped off the plane in Nevada. She immediately tried to ditch Brock. “I need to drop by the ladies’ room, and since I’m under the weather, I’m going to call it a day. No dinner for me tonight.”
“Understood,” he said. “But I’ll wait. You’ll need help with your baggage, and I should probably give you a ride home.”
Not going well. Especially since she’d come to the realization she didn’t have the phone Michael had given her and had no idea how to reach Caleb without the call being traced. Nor did she have her own phone. It had been on the nightstand in the hotel. Which explained why Michael hadn’t been calling to yell at her. But neither had she felt so much as a tingle of awareness of him nearby. She could really use a tingle right about now.
“I’ll be fine to drive,” she said. “If you can just get my bags.” She started walking toward the escalator.
“I thought you needed a restroom,” he said suspiciously.
“Changed my mind,” she said. “Rather just get home.”
Twenty-minutes later, Brock settled her bag into the trunk of her new red Beetle that had replaced the fancy German car. He grabbed his duffel bag, which was leaning against the bumper, casting a critical inspection over what Cassandra knew to be an appearance worthy of that “walking death” comment that still made her cringe.
“You sure you can drive?” he asked, though he didn’t seem particularly interested in doing so.
Cassandra guessed he hadn’t made any plans to kill her yet. Comforting thought, so she clung to it. “I’m fine,” she said. “See you in the morning.”
He offered her a two-finger salute and sauntered away. She watched him and frowned. Why had that been so easy? Didn’t the man want to kill her? She turned to her car and got in, uneasiness in her stomach as she slipped the key into the ignition.
***
Brock dialed his voice mail as he left Cassandra, hoping to find instructions from Powell regarding his first injection, but stopped short when his Chevy Blazer came into view. Lucian was leaning against it, all nonchalant, as if contact with a member of Zodius Nation wasn’t a major fucking problem. Cassandra could drive by at any minute.
Brock charged forward. “Are you crazy? I can’t be seen with you.”
“That’s not a very friendly welcome,” Lucian chided.
Brock ground out between his teeth, “Get in the damn truck before someone sees us.” He clicked the locks open with his key chain and rounded the bed of the truck, lifting the tarp along the way to toss his bag in the back.
Lucian didn’t move. “It was Michael who followed us last night,” he said. “His unfortunate involvement demands aggressive actions. We’ve set plans in motion—Cassandra Powell will be dead within the next hour. I’ve arranged for the secretary of state to pressure Powell for Red Dart during his grieving. You will volunteer to deal with Red Dart and the government while Powell is mourning.”
Brock’s heart thundered in his ears. “Powell told me to look out for his daughter. If anything happens to her, he’ll blame me. I will be the last person he trusts to take care of things while he buries Cassandra.”
“That’s why it will be a car accident,” he said. “Just like her mother.” He made a fist and twisted it in unison with his words. “That should twist Powell in the gut extra hard. And there is no way you could prevent such a thing.”
“You can’t be sure a car accident will kill her,” he argued, trying anything to shut this down.
Lucian smiled. “You underestimate me, Brock. There’s a little alien something we call ‘Stardust’ in her exhaust. It will cause a brain aneurism. It is undetectable in human testing. Her car will crash. She’s dead regardless of cause. I suggest you get to work so you can be there by Powell’s side when he gets the news. Be ready to take control.” The wind lifted, and he was gone.
Brock stood there all of three seconds before he started running toward Cassandra’s car as fast as he could. If anything happened to Cassandra, he didn’t care what the cause, Powell would go ballistic. He wasn’t taking any chances of losing his injections or even delaying them. He ran ten parking rows and one level up. By the time he got to her car, he was panting, finding her stupid little Beetle sitting where it had been with Cassandra nowhere in sight.
He let out a breath of relief. She must have forgotten something inside. He’d wait. He didn’t want to risk missing her. Thirty minutes later, no Cassandra. Brock lifted the hood of her car and disabled the battery. Then, for good measure he pulled a pocket knife and discreetly sliced two tires.
He had to get to h
er house before Lucian found out she was alive and decided to kill her some other way.
Chapter 14
Her stomach twisted and turned in sudden sharp waves that, thankfully, remained dormant during the ride from the airport to her condo. Cassandra paid the cab driver and lugged her suitcase out of the car, balancing her computer bag on top, purse over her shoulder. She’d been about to turn the key in her ignition when it had hit her that in the movies a few too many of those who were knocked off ended up dead in their car. She hadn’t liked her odds.
Nervously, she rolled her bag toward her condo and realized that going inside might not be smart—the second place that people got killed was in their homes. But she didn’t know where else to go that she could be sure Michael could find her. She had no direct number for Caleb. If she called her office, she worried that her father would find out she’d asked for the number.
With her heart fluttering wildly in her chest, she entered the paved walkway with her residence to the left. She drew a breath and unlocked her door, then shuffled her bags inside. Cassandra felt the tingle of awareness spike the mark on her neck a moment too late. Suddenly, strong arms were around her, and she was inside the condo, the door shut behind her.
Michael leaned against the solid surface, pulled her hard against his body, powerful thighs molding hers, branding her. He slid his hands up her back.
“Michael,” she gasped. His hair was pulled back so that she could see the anger etched in his beautiful face all too clearly.
He placed his hand over her backside. “I have a good mind to turn you over my knee and spank that pretty little ass of yours.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh I’d dare, and you know it,” he rebutted. “What part of… Adam wants you dead… do you not understand?”
“What part of, Adam has to be stopped before the world is destroyed, do you not understand? I had to get that copy of Brock’s hard drive.”
“And did you?”
“Yes,” she said, chin tilted defiantly. “I did.”
Dark eyes assessed her. That hand on her backside flexed, almost in threat. And damn it, that made her hot when she didn’t want to be. He made her hot. “Did you know, Cassandra,” he replied tightly, “that once a female has had sex with a GTECH there is a psychic residue that can be tracked? Unless that female is lifebonded, or underground, a skilled GTECH Tracker with the right motivation can find you anywhere. Even Germany.”
Shock rolled through her. She had never been safe. Adam’s Trackers could have found her. “You knew I was in Germany?”
“I’ve always known where you were. And I knew you were far enough away to stay out of sight, out of mind—off Adam’s radar. I was furious when your father lured you back to the States, back onto Adam’s radar.”
A knot formed in her throat. “I… you knew I was there, but you never once came to see me.” In that moment, she realized painfully that she’d used her time in Germany as his excuse for not contacting her. He couldn’t find her. He couldn’t come to her. But he’d found her all right.
His hands slid into her hair. “I came to see you,” he said softly. “You just never knew I was there. You were safer that way. I’ve kicked myself a million times for not intervening when you were returning home. I should have made you stay there. But I also knew any contact with me put you at risk—and not just from Adam, Cassandra. I knew if I touched you again, there was no way I would ever let you go.”
She sucked in a breath at that confession. He was touching her now.
His hand slid up her back, molding them closer. “Do you know how damn worried I was about you when you were on that plane?”
“No,” she said, leaning back to search his face. “No, I don’t.” But she wanted to. God, how she wanted to. “I don’t know anything about what you feel, Michael. Because you never tell me.”
“Well, I’m telling you now,” he said hoarsely. “I was going insane, coming out of my own skin. Barely able to stop myself from yanking you out of that airport and back into my arms.” His mouth came down on hers, hot, passionate, and fiery, like a man starving. Cassandra clung to him, hungry for the comfort that his strong arms offered, the scent of him devouring her with… him. Yes. Him. He was what she needed, and she could feel the same hunger in him. He needed her. He’d always needed her. He’d always known where she was, always been near.
But… she tore her mouth from his, still clinging to him, unable to make herself let go. “What happened to not touching me, to being afraid we’ll lifebond without a blood exchange?”
“The knowledge that in one instant you could be taken from me forever.” Emotion cut deep in his tone.
This was what she’d wanted to hear from him, was it not? So why was there an empty gnawing feeling inside her? Confused, so confused. Her hands went to his chest, self-preservation kicking in. “No.” Then stronger. “No.” She shook her head. “One minute you push me away. The next, you pull me close. I can’t do this. I can’t.”
“Cassandra,” he breathed heavily. “I want you. I want you so damn much. But there are things about me you don’t know.” She was ready to reject those words, to shove away from him until he added softly, “Things… I don’t want you to know.”
Tenderness rushed over her, and Cassandra pressed a palm to his cheek. It was an honest, raw answer. The most honest he’d ever been with her. “I do. Tell me. Please. Just say whatever it is, and be done with it. Then the worry is over.”
Abruptly, he set her away from him. “This isn’t the time for this conversation. Adam’s men will come for you. We have to leave.”
They stood there, staring at each other. His face a stony, unemotional mask, yet hurt and loneliness spilled from him, seeping into Cassandra’s pores. She felt herself become that hurt, that loneliness—his hurt and loneliness.
It made her angry. It made her want to shout at him to stop being a fool. It made her want to run to him. It made her want to run away. Nothing had changed from moments before, when she’d tried to push him away. He was still incapable of letting her inside himself. He would hurt her.
This was over. They were over. And she might have said just that—wanted to, needed to—but a sudden rush of nausea seemed to merge with her emotions, and her knees wobbled.
Instantly, Michael was there, his arm wrapping around her waist. “Cassandra.” He picked her up and carried her to her oversized blue couch and laid her down. On one knee beside her, he studied her with those probing, black eyes. “The lifebond illness.”
She nodded, the implications clear. She was having the lifebond illness. “I’ve been sick. Yes. All day. But before you start freaking out, it’s not the violent, bedridden illness of lifebonding. And we still haven’t done a blood exchange. So please. Let’s skip the part where you do the brooding Michael thing you do, and tell me how dangerous you are for me. We both know we have no business lifebonding after everything that’s happened between us. Let’s leave it at that.”
Michael’s expression shifted. He looked shaken. “Cassandra—”
She shook her head. He pulled her close, pressed his forehead to hers. “I never meant to hurt you, Cassandra.”
Her fingers curled on his jaw, her chest heavy, eyes tingling though she refused to cry. “I know,” she said. Just as she knew he wouldn’t mean to hurt her again if she let him. She wouldn’t. Nor would she run. Not from Michael. And not from Adam. She’d spent far too much time watching rather than participating, making a difference. She’d accepted Michael’s emotional distance. She was done accepting. It was long past time for her to stand and fight.
She leaned back and ran her fingers over his lips. She loved his lips. Loved kissing him. So she did. She pressed her lips to his and then leaned back, pulling the flash drive from her bra. He arched a brow, and she smiled. “I wasn’t about to let it off my person. Care to do the honors while I pack?”
He took the flash drive from her. “Backpack or small duffel. We’ll be travel
ing by motorcycle through Sunrise Canyon.”
Fifteen minutes later, with a small backpack filled, Cassandra had changed to jeans and tennis shoes. She returned to the living room and found Michael sitting on her couch, laptop open. “Any luck?”
“Encrypted,” he said with frustration, shutting the lid to the computer. “I just talked to Sterling. We’ll meet him on the way out of town and give him the flash drive. He’ll have it decoded by the time we get to Sunrise City.”
A moment of trepidation fluttered through Cassandra at the lack of control that gave her. She knew Adam was after Red Dart; she also knew the Renegades were against her father. But they wouldn’t be once she proved he was not against them. That hard drive might be the answer to doing that.
Cassandra nodded her approval. The sooner it was decoded, the sooner they could all work together.
***
Michael exited Cassandra’s condo, pulled the door shut, and locked it. He took her hand in his, a silent promise everything was going to be okay. Her hand was tiny, soft. He wanted to hold it forever, and for a moment he couldn’t remember why that wasn’t possible. The instant they cleared the building, the stifling early evening heat wrapped around them, the smell of rain touching the air. A distant rumble of thunder promised the trip through the canyon would be a wet one. Reaching out to the wind for any warnings, Michael listened for the whispers only he could understand, and then ordered it to seek out trouble.
Glancing at Cassandra, he inclined his head toward the side of the building, to a row of parking meters that faced another building and more meters. “I’m over here,” he said, leading her toward the less-than-discreet spot he’d parked the Ford F-150 he was driving, scanning the perimeter with feigned nonchalance and noting four vacant cars across the street. A fifth car sat two empty spaces in front of the truck.
He opened the passenger’s door of the truck, and he settled his hand on her tiny waist, helping Cassandra climb into the cabin. “I can’t believe you traded in Carrie for a pickup truck.”
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