Uncontrollable (Beyond Human)

by Nina Croft

  “She said she was investigating the murders of members of an oversight committee.”

  “Senator Gilpin?” Rose asked.

  “You know about it?”

  “Of course. The committee was investigating us.”

  “And now, apparently, they’re all dead. Did you…?” Martin trailed off as though he’d decided he didn’t want to ask. He’d always turned away from the darker aspects of what he’d set in motion.

  “We didn’t kill them,” Rose said.

  Though they certainly knew who was responsible. Kane Revilla. Another one of their new partners.

  “What should we do with her?” Rose asked, pursing her lips as she studied the unconscious woman. “Maybe we should kill her.”

  What the hell? “Of course we shouldn’t fucking kill her.”

  Rose sniggered, hands on hips. “Ha, only kidding. Just wanted to see how you’d react. Nice to know I can still press your buttons.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Well, you do know you’re acting a little strange?”

  “No I’m not.” But his glance lingered on the woman. What was it about her that pulled at him? “We should take her with us. Find out how she got the link between Martin and Gilpin. It was supposed to be wiped clean. Besides, I’d really like to know why neither of us could get inside her head.”

  A glitch of nature? Or something else?

  “It’s okay, you’ve convinced me. But you can carry her.”

  “You go ahead,” Quinn said, bending down beside the woman. “You have the keys, get us out of here. Take down anyone we meet between here and the external doors. Contact Dave once we get to the security check.” She nodded. “Martin, you follow her. Stay close.”

  Once they were out the door, he glanced down at the woman again. A bead of blood welled at her lip, and he wiped it away with his thumb. Then he slipped an arm under her and held her against his chest as he straightened. Her hand curled against him and her cheek pressed against the spot where his heart thudded. He hitched her up, so he had his other hand under her knees, then headed out. He passed two more guards on the way, both unconscious. As he came through the glass doors into the reception area, the last two fell to the ground, including the woman behind the desk.

  They headed out into the fresh air, and the black van pulled up beside them. Dave leaned out the window. “Success?”

  “Yeah,” Rose replied. She hurried around the back and opened the double doors. Martin climbed in without help and Quinn laid his burden down on the floor of the van and jumped in. Rose slammed the door, got into the front beside Dave, and they pulled away immediately.

  Grabbing his phone from his pocket, Quinn pressed the speed dial. “We have him. Tell Stefan to do his stuff.”

  He put the phone in his pocket and laid his head back against the seat, rolling it slightly so he could see Martin.

  “Are we safe?” Martin asked.

  “As safe as we can make it.”

  “Won’t they come straight after us? They’ll have surveillance…”

  “Stefan will already be running a virus through the system. It will wipe the tapes, lock the doors, the place will be in chaos for a while. Hopefully, they’ll think you got away in the mess. Or at least, they’ll have no evidence we came in.” He smiled. “By the way, Jake said hi.”

  “That was Jake on the phone? He’s okay?”

  “He’s married,” Rose called out from the front.

  Shock crossed Martin’s face.

  “We’ll tell you everything once we’re somewhere safe. There’s been a lot going on.”

  They turned a corner and the woman on the floor slid sideways, banging her head against the seat in front. Quinn shrugged out of his jacket and bunched it up, then leaned down and placed it under her head.

  “Glad to see you haven’t lost your gentlemanly tendencies,” Martin said drily.

  Quinn grinned. “You used to say I never had any.”

  “Maybe you’ve grown up.”

  Yeah, they’d all had to grow up over the last few years. Now with Martin free at last, he could take some time out to decide what to do next.

  And for some reason, his glance kept straying to the woman on the floor.

  Chapter Three

  Mel came awake suddenly, but some instinct made her keep her eyes closed. She could sense someone watching her, and she didn’t want them to know she was conscious.

  What had happened?

  And where was she?

  They were moving. She breathed in, her nostrils filling with the scent of diesel. And people. And heat. It was a warm day and the vehicle wasn’t air conditioned.

  Nausea rose in her throat, but she pushed it down.

  They hadn’t killed her. So presumably, they must want her for something. She had less than twelve hours before her check-in time. Somehow, she had to get away by then. Either that, or she’d have to delay the check-in. But that would trigger a series of protocols she’d rather not set in motion.

  “She’s awake,” a man said. She recognized Martin Rayleigh’s voice.

  She gave up the pretense then and opened her eyes. All she saw were feet and legs. One set in orange—presumably belonging to Martin. The other in dark gray suit pants and black shoes. Obviously, the man who had attacked her. Okay, so she’d attacked him first.

  Her head hurt, and her chest ached. But she didn’t appear to be seriously hurt. And she wasn’t restrained in any way. As the thought passed through her mind, someone reached down and pulled her upright. She saw Rayleigh watching her with maybe a hint of sympathy in his eyes, and then her vision was gone. Something soft was wrapped around her eyes and tied behind her head.

  She was hauled first to her feet, her hands dragged in front of her and cuffed, and then she was pushed down onto a seat.

  She needed to work out a plan of action. But what to tell them? Who were they, anyway? She had a bad feeling about this and couldn’t afford to ignore her intuition. It had gotten her out of trouble numerous times. But that same intuition told her these were not bad people. Still, she had to come up with a story that would persuade them to let her go. Maybe she—

  The control panel on her wrist vibrated against her skin. She went still at the alarm. An unidentified anomaly. The vibration was increasing in frequency, buzzing a warning that whoever was around was getting closer. Someone was following them and gaining. There should be no one else here. No other agents had been scheduled.

  Shit.

  What the hell was she supposed to do? This was not part of the plan. Could she risk that they were here to help? No. “Drive faster.”

  “What?”

  “There’s someone following. You need to go faster.”

  “How the hell…?”

  “It doesn’t matter—just go.”

  But the driver had already put their foot down, and the vehicle was speeding up. Mel had an idea that whoever they were, these people were used to the unusual. The vehicle turned suddenly with a sharp squeal of tires, and she slid across the seat and banged into something—or rather someone—solid. An arm on her shoulder steadied her, pushing her back into her place. But the weirdest pulse of electricity shot through her from the point of contact. Then the vehicle straightened, and the man let go as they accelerated again.

  At least the vibration was now muted to a soft hum and as the minutes passed, it faded completely.

  They’d lost whoever it was, for the time being.

  Her mind went back to the first sight of her captors…and that brief sense of recognition. Her immediate thought had been that she was compromised, or more likely, that someone else had been sent as backup. That had only lasted a few seconds, though, because while the man’s appearance was familiar, she didn’t recognize him. Plus, he hadn’t set off her alarm. He’d been strong and fast, but she’d sensed he wasn’t giving his all. She might have even taken him, if his friend hadn’t tasered her from behind. She lifted her cuffed hands to rub at her chest where she could stil
l feel the dull ache.

  “Are you okay?”

  She wished she could see him.

  How should she play this? She didn’t think weak and pathetic would work, not after their fight. Surly? Strong and silent?

  “I’ll live.”

  “Good.” He sounded young, with no hint of an accent. He’d looked young. Probably a year or so younger than her thirty-two years. They swerved again, and she was knocked against him. She pulled herself away quickly. “You can slow down now,” she said. “You’ve lost them.” As soon as the words were out, she realized she should have stayed quiet. She had no way to explain how she knew. Well, there was a way, but not one she was willing to share.

  The vehicle slowed.

  “How did you know someone was following us?” the man beside her asked.

  Good question. “It’s an FBI thing.”

  A snort came from the front of the vehicle. Time to change the subject. “Are you going to let me go? You are aware that it’s a federal violation to imprison an FBI agent?”

  “We’ll let you go as soon as we can. I promise, you won’t be harmed.”

  The person in the front of the van snorted again. Presumably the woman who had tasered her. Mel owed her one. “Who are you people?” she asked.

  “You don’t need to know,” the man said.

  Actually, she did.

  He wasn’t making a blip on her alarm system, but there was something out of place here. His looks, and those of his girlfriend—the black hair and blue eyes—were too familiar to the Tel-group of her time. A coincidence? She didn’t believe in coincidences.

  She had to persuade them to release her, and soon. How? “Where are we going?”

  “Best you don’t know.”

  Looked like there was a lot she didn’t need to know.

  She was unlikely to get any more from them. The rest of the people in the van fell silent. She was sure they had things to talk about but were clearly not going to do it in front of her. Or were they already talking, and she just couldn’t hear them? She tested the cuffs, but they were metal. No way was she getting out of there. She’d just have to bide her time and hope she could persuade them to let her go.

  After what seemed about an hour, the van slowed and finally came to a halt. A minute later, the man beside her stood up, clasped her arm, and pulled her to her feet. She bent her head and shuffled in front of him. Fresh air flowed in as the back door was opened.

  “Wait a second,” her captor said and brushed past her. Hands clasped her around the waist, and she was lifted down from the vehicle. He held her for a moment while her legs steadied, then released his grip. She stood, breathing in deeply. They were outside, but somewhere in the city; she could smell the dense fumes in the air and experienced that closed-in feeling of too many people, too close together. Boston at a guess. That was the only city close enough.

  Until she knew what and who they were, she couldn’t decide on a course of action. Though she was pretty sure that they were friends of Martin Rayleigh, and not enemies. She’d been caught in the middle of a rescue.

  “Come on,” the man said, wrapping a hand around her elbow. He led her up some stone steps, then paused while someone unlocked a door. After pushing her gently inside, he took her arm again.

  “What are you going to do with her?” the woman asked.

  “Lock her in the basement for the moment. It’s the only place we can secure.”

  They were moving again. He opened a door, then a second, nudging her in front of him. “There’s a staircase,” he said.

  She shuffled, feeling for each step, her cuffed hands off to one side, sliding along the wall. Finally, she reached the bottom, and he leaned past her and opened another door. The air smelled musty, as though the place wasn’t used much.

  She stepped inside, and he followed her in, as the door clicked shut behind him. Mel stood for a second, then his hands tugged at the band around her eyes. She blinked a couple of times, letting her eyes adjust to the light.

  He stood only inches away, about half a foot taller than her so she had to crane her neck to look into his face. Her eyes caught his. They were the deepest midnight blue. He had high cheekbones, a big, bony nose, a long clean jaw, and a beautiful mouth.

  She stopped short at the thought. Since when had she thought of mouths as beautiful? Especially mouths belonging to possible suspects. She was just off balance. The day had not gone as planned.

  He was returning her inspection. His hand reached out, swept over her cheekbone, and a tingle ran through her. That was just her skin, sensitive where she could feel a bruise forming. The woman had hit her when she’d regained consciousness back in the interrogation room. Yes, she definitely owed her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “You need any painkillers?”

  She wished he wouldn’t be so nice. Who knew who and what he was, and whether she would have to eliminate him somewhere down the line? “I said I’m fine.”

  He gave a curt nod. “I need to go talk to some people and then I’ll be back.”

  “Goody.”

  He flashed her an amused glance. “In the meantime—make yourself comfortable.” But as he was talking, he reached out and took her cuffed wrists. He led her toward one wall, and quickly unlocked the right cuff, slipped it through a pipe that ran around the room, and re-cuffed her. He glanced around, then moved away, coming back a second later with a chair which he placed beside her. “I’ll be back,” he said and turned to go.

  She watched as he strode across the room, moving with the fluid grace of a trained soldier. He opened the door and disappeared without a backward glance.

  Mel sank into the chair and looked around her, taking stock of her little prison, though it was actually a spacious room, used for recreation, she guessed. It had a huge flat TV on one wall, a couple of big leather sofas and a coffee table. The walls were bare brick painted white and they were just below ground level because there was a narrow strip of window along one wall. It was barred, but she could see the blue sky through the glass.

  The air left her lungs in a huge sigh and she slumped in the seat. She’d begged the captain for this job. Now it looked like she’d messed up.

  How the hell could she get things back on track?

  Who were these people?

  And who had been following them?

  She rattled her cuffed wrists. She wanted answers, but she wasn’t going to get them tied up down here.

  Chapter Four

  There was something not quite right about his little FBI agent.

  Quinn pulled out her ID and studied the picture. The prominent cheekbones, balanced by that wide mouth. The photo didn’t show it, but she’d had dark red freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her small straight nose. He’d had to fight the urge to smooth over them with his thumb.

  The ID looked legitimate, but they’d get Stefan to hack into the FBI database and check her out. Stefan was their tech wizard. He’d find out if she really worked for the FBI, but Quinn was guessing yes. He’d spent a lot of time working with agents from various government agencies. He could recognize the style and the attitude, and he’d swear she was official.

  So why the hell couldn’t he get inside her head? It was like hitting a brick wall.

  Was she blocking him on purpose, or was it just the way she was made?

  As he entered the sitting room, Quinn pushed the worry aside and some of the tension left him. They’d succeeded. Martin was free.

  Martin had vanished four years ago. They’d received a message from him at the time—he’d be travelling and would be out of touch. That was something else they hadn’t questioned until they’d broken free of their government controllers a year ago. By that time, Martin had vanished without trace, and they’d started to believe he must be dead, along with the members of the original tribe that Martin’s great-great…grandfather had discovered in the Mountains of the Moon over a century ago.

/>   Rose and Dave were both in the room, seated on the sofa, talking quietly together. There was a closeness between them that Quinn envied. As he entered, Rose looked up and got to her feet with a smile. She crossed the room and poured him a glass of scotch from the bottle on the sideboard and handed it to him.

  “Thanks.”

  He glanced over to where Dave lounged on the sofa. The guy was totally unfazed by the fact that Quinn could get in his head if he wanted to. So far, he hadn’t. They’d been trained, early on, not to enter the head of anyone who wasn’t a sanctioned target. Now it was just second nature. If needed, he would do it, but good manners dictated he stay out unless he had reason. He knew Rose had read Dave’s mind—and so had Jake. They both trusted him implicitly, so Quinn would do the same.

  He took a sip of scotch. “Where’s Martin?”

  “Gone for a shower. I gave him some of your clothes.”

  “Good.”

  “And I’ve contacted Jake. They’re going to call in half an hour. He sounded happy.”

  “Jake’s always goddamned happy these days.”

  Jake had recently married. And Quinn liked his new wife, Christa. Really, he did. But he couldn’t forget she was the colonel’s daughter. Colonel Harry Winters was their old government controller, and Quinn held him directly responsible for Shanna’s death. The bastard might claim he was following orders, but that didn’t change things. Quinn wasn’t ready to forgive the man yet, even if he was his best friend’s father-in-law.

  And also, maybe he was just the teeniest bit jealous. He’d always believed he and the rest of the Tribe would never be able to have anything approaching a normal relationship. He liked women—he’d had a whole load of one-night stands to prove it. But he’d never been with the same woman twice. Before they’d broken away, it just hadn’t been feasible. There were too many secrets. And afterward, they’d been on the run. Still, Jake had somehow found the time and the right woman to fall in love. Though Christa was hardly normal.