by Angel Payne
“Christ,” Shay repeated.
“Goddamn fuck stick,” Tait seethed.
“Let my kneecap do a mambo on his ball sack while making sure his left eye socket was a lovely blue to match” Ghid rejoined. “But I told Mel that if I ever caught his naked dick near her again, they’d be adding murder to my rap sheet.”
Shay took the two steps needed to lock his stance in front of Ghid. For a long moment, their gazes dueled. It was a hell of a lot harder than he anticipated not to yank the guy into a fierce hug for saving Mom from Stock’s perverted attack, but he managed to restrain the PDA. Ghid gave a little nod, conveying he understand anyway.
“So everyone picked up again,” Dan filled in. “Melody was able to sever shit with Stock, and the feds promised you all protection inside Area Fifty-One.”
“We were sure it was for the best,” Ghid confirmed. “A lot of the buildings at the base had been abandoned since the top secret work they did there in the fifties and sixties.” A cynical gleam appeared in his gaze. “Despite what the world thinks, we were the most exciting thing to arrive there in years. It’s remote and quiet and secure.” His jaw tensed. “Which seemed like our idea of heaven.”
“But it wasn’t.” Shay lifted his head. As Ghid met his stare, he knew he’d issued the truth. The grimness of it was stamped across Ghid’s formidable face. “So,” he followed up, “how long was it until the torture sessions started again?”
Ghid responded with his version of a grimace. “They kept it to what they could get away with when Mel wasn’t looking—which wasn’t very often. She practically lived in the lab, working like a demon to find viable solutions for all of us to get on with our lives.”
“She felt responsible.” Zoe inserted it. Her words, along with her eyes, communicated how she related to every choice Mom had made, no matter how wrenching they’d been.
“You could say that.” Ghid’s reply was a verbal version of the dry air blowing at the windows. “At first, she thought surgery might help correct the guys with larger deformities, but all the shit simply regenerated. So she did her best with choices for occupational therapy and specialized career training, with the understanding that integrating most of us back into society wasn’t going to be a choice. With the military’s help, she also kept tabs on Stock, knowing he’d dipped farther over to the dark side after the botched job with Lor in Los Angeles, and might one day decide to butt heads with the feds over property he perceived as rightfully his.” The guy’s tone gained some somber grit. “Funny, what can happen to a regular asshole once he perceives himself as a real martyr.”
“Feel you there,” Tait murmured. Shay added a commiserating grunt. They’d both seen that insane light in more than one man’s eyes during missions in deserts far from this one, watching the sky ignite with rocket fire instead of neon.
Zoe’s face crunched with confusion. “I don’t understand. If you were all prepared for what Stock did with the plane, why did all the lab’s staff simply cooperate with Stock’s men?”
“Because those were General Newport’s instructions to us,” Ghid revealed. “He assured Mel there was a plan in place for everyone’s safety, that he had an ultra-elite team on their way to make sure all the Big Idea boys made it to safe ground again.” He shrugged, seeming genuinely puzzled himself. “Mel was actually excited. She and I have been making lots of day trips up to the backup camp, preparing it to be a B compound of sorts for the guys. With the feds’ blessing, full security’s been in place for a month. Newport told us that the op would involve the SHRCs secretly boarding the plane then taking down Stock’s guys in mid-air in order to pilot the jet to Reno. After that, the guys would be transferred out to the compound.” He arrowed his gaze straight into Tait with that. “Instead, we received a little surprise party, complete with special lighting and entertainment.”
Tait hauled out his inner John McClane, unrepentant and unyielding, for the comeback. “I could say it wasn’t intentional but I’d be lying. At the time, the mission mantra was a capture-or-kill on Stock and all his men before the plane fired engines again. The choice was a need-to-know thing only, shared outside the team by the general, the upper brass at JSOC, and of course, the Big Nick.” His use of the military’s nickname for President Nichols didn’t go lost on Ghid or Dan, though it took Zoe a second to catch on. That was a good thing, since T didn’t wait to continue. “We had to assume that Shay was possibly dealing off both sides of the intel deck, but had no idea who else might be involved, including everyone on the facility’s staff.”
“And there was no way you could’ve known that Dr. Melanie Smythe was actually Dr. Melody Bommer,” Shay put in.
“None at all.” T’s reply was rough and low. “Dammit.”
Shay swapped a glance with Ghid. Their silent agreement was clear. It wouldn’t benefit anyone, least of all Tait, to tell him he’d missed seeing Mom in the hallway by a few short minutes.
“She was gone by the time you got there anyway, T.” Shay elbowed his brother in encouragement. “And from what I heard, she got her wish, at least for a while. Most of the Big Idea boys were transported by ground to B camp after the raid, since a lot of the A-fifty-one lab isn’t livable right now.”
He traded another look at Ghid with the statement. Most of the boys. It was accurate, since the poor guys who hadn’t made it out the door in the evacuation were certainly the sources of the screams that chorused with his own in those halls of horror. He almost laughed at the second half of his assertion. Isn’t livable right now. That was even more precise. Living wasn’t what a guy did when the lunatics took over the asylum. Surviving was the only goal.
“Well.” Tait cleared his throat and flashed a smile. “Glad to know everything gelled out for the best, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Ghid grunted. “Eventually.”
Tait frowned. “Eventually?”
The man’s eyes actually twinkled. “Guess you don’t remember how your mom likes to plan shit down to the molecule. She wasn’t a happy camper when your band of merry men changed things up.” Another sound erupted from him. Not a full grunt…probably the Ghid version of a chuckle. “That woman can be quite a feisty little Fifi when she wants to be.”
Shay’s brows shot up. Tait’s did, too. “Fifi, huh? You ever called her that to her face?”
“Just came up with it. But hell, now I can’t wait to try it out.”
“Good luck with that,” Tait drawled.
“Won’t need luck.”
“Right. Just full body armor.”
“That’s sort of the point.”
“It is? Why?”
Ghid’s eyes were a damn fireworks show now. “Because she’ll get all…feisty.”
“Ohhhh, yeah.” T grinned with understanding. “I get it. Feisty. Have one of those back home, only she does it most of the time in bikinis that drive me insane. Hell, the first night we met, she made me strip down to my skivs and march my ass through her garden until I—” He stopped and shuddered. “Wait. Jesus on a Ritz, dude; you’re talking about my mom.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Shut. Up.”
Shay, while pleased about their fun little bonding session, couldn’t sand the edges of anxiety off his blood and bones. The feeling was rendered by the same blade that sharpened him for things like HALO jumps from planes and impending shit storms with hostiles. He was used to dealing with it for a few hours, then buffing it out with some deep breaths and renewed focus on the horizon.
But the horizon was a blur. And every breath just brought another swipe of the knife, cutting a deeper chasm inside, opening the way for his mind to plunge deeper. He gripped his bottle and paced to the window, forcing himself to concentrate on the present, to take in every shape and swirl of the electronic tapestry forming the boulevard below.
It wasn’t working.
He still drowned in dread, and couldn’t figure out why.
Until his brother spoke again.
“Wait another damn
minute. If Mom was working with our side the whole time, and we cleared all the residents out of A-fifty-one, then who were those G-suits I signed Shay over to? And why did they beat and torture the crap out of him?”
Chapter Eighteen
Zoe didn’t know her heart could break just by looking at someone. This moment proved her wrong.
Her chest clutched from the agony of watching Shay as he watched Tait, knowing his brother was finally stringing every piece of evidence together—and arriving at the truth at the end of that line. Tait peered at Shay with layers of new intensity, though beyond that, Zoe couldn’t tell if the man was shocked, horrified, confused, or all three. Clearly, Shay couldn’t discern that answer, either, and his torment over that was hewn in every taut line of his body…every haunted, bruised line of his face.
She yearned to go to him. To ease his anguish. But she could only sit here and hope it was enough, her own version of a disgusting hell.
Tait finally jabbed the throbbing blister of a silence. “Shay. Shit. Shay.”
He took a step. Shay rushed backward by two. “Don’t,” he growled. “Just don’t, T.”
“Okay. Fine.” Tait tilted his head forward before shaking it again. “Wait. Hold on. Why do they even suspect that you—”
“Little parting gift from Homez,” Shay growled. “A whole vial of the serum. I drank it the night Mom left, thinking it was some special thing from her.”
“Big deal.” Tait spread his arms. “You were a kid. Maybe it simply…passed through you…”
Shay made a rolling motion with one of his hands. “Keep going. You’re doing good, broheim. It’s the same script I ran when they had me strapped down to that gurney. I don’t look like the others, right? I’m completely normal. No scales or horns or fins. Figured they’d test me then throw me back.” A growl, sudden and anguished and angry, ripped out of him. “Well, they didn’t throw me back, dammit.”
“Okay.” Tait stared harder at his brother. “It’s going to be fine, okay? You’ll handle this. We’ll handle this. We’ll—”
Shay gashed him short by sweeping up his beer can and hurling it against the wall. “I don’t want to fucking handle this!” His steps across the room made Zoe’s heart feel like a caged animal—appropriate for the vicious desperation in every inch of his movements, too. “You know what I want, Tait? I want someone to cut me open from my throat to my balls, so I bleed. And I want this monster inside of me to be drowning in every drop of that shit. And I want lie there, watching that fucker drown and die.” He gripped the wall, his fingernails scoring the stucco, digging out chunks of it with the force of his fury. “I don’t want this poison handled, Tait. I want it gone.”
He disappeared down the hall.
Two seconds later, one of the bedroom doors thundered shut.
Before any of the men could stop her, Zoe rushed to her feet and ran across the room. She bolted past the bedroom where her friends were piled on the bed watching a Step Up movie, to the door still trembling from the force of Shay’s slam.
She was glad he hadn’t thought to lock it—though as soon as she entered, the tic went off in his jaw, likely damning himself for the oversight. He confirmed that with his rancorous snarl. “Get out, Zoe. Now.”
A tremble skittered through her. Caramba. His rage was a force in the room, short-circuiting her in ways she’d never felt before. Part of her understood his frustration and shared his anger. Another part ached more deeply for him. And another part, unattached to any logical thought, gave way to her inner cavegirl, responding in its purest form to his caveman…turning the crux of her thighs into a pulsing puddle.
Shit, shit, shit.
She sucked in a breath and dropped her hands to her sides, shaking them a little. Through the next breath, she told herself she wasn’t an idiot for locking herself in a room with a beast with hunched, heaving shoulders, arms spread, hands flattened against the window.
How she longed to rush to him, molding her body against his back, whispering a reprise of Tait’s pledge. It would be okay. They’d all help him through this, no matter what “this” ended up being like.
That was where curiosity rammed itself into the picture.
Shay had taken his “magic honey” shooter when he was nine years old. According to what Ghid had relayed to them, the incubation period for the other test subjects hadn’t been eighteen months, let alone eighteen years.
What had happened differently with Shay? Did the serum affect children differently than adults? Was that part of the reason Homer slipped the vial to him?
The questions were as daunting as the power of her need to be here for him. And with him…in any way he needed.
She scooted forward by one shaky step. Another. “That’s not a good idea,” she softly told him.
An ominous rumble crawled its way out of him. “Right. Because the way things have been going has been such a string of ‘good ideas’ lately.”
Crazily, that replaced her nervous chill with a hot gust of anger. “Five days ago, you thought three hours in a hotel room with me was a pretty good idea.”
His fingers went white against the dark glass. “Dammit.”
“And another one on a hospital bed in the middle of the desert.”
“Zoe.”
“What?” It tore out of her at full volume and she didn’t care who heard. “Dios mio! Don’t you get it? Every minute, every second of those hours was like gold turned into time for me. Before them, I felt like an alien on my own planet, seeking a connection that didn’t exist for me here.” So much for breathing deeply. Or holding back the tears that had been pummeling at the base of her throat to break free. “I’m thankful for every turn your life took that brought you to that airport bar…that led you to me. And if you answer me one more time with that damn growl, I won’t settle for just everyone in this suite knowing it. The roof is a few stairwells away, pendejo.”
He swung his head around, glowering at her with bloodshot eyes. “Try it and you won’t be able to sit tomorrow.”
He meant it. Every word. And every cell in her body, sparking to new heights of terror and need at once, adored him for it. This man…he turned her inside out. Made her insane. Infuriated. And desperate for something that felt halfway normal again. A reality where she could reclaim maybe a little of who she was…
Her defaults snapped into place. Anger. Attitude.
“Is this the part where my dutiful ‘Yes, Sir’ is supposed to make an appearance? Don’t hold your breath, Sergeant. Unlike you, maybe the people down on the Strip will be interested to know that the gift you brought to me, the hope you gave my spirit, would take me a lifetime to repay you for. Maybe they’ll be happy to hear that when I woke up after fainting on the plane and saw you over me, I wanted to kiss you as hard as I beat on you.”
His glare narrowed. “You were sobbing.”
“Because I was thankful, dammit!”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Bullshit it doesn’t.” Her voice cracked. Appropriate, considering what was going on inside her heart. “I thought I’d never see you again. So if fate used hostage ropes to pull me back to your side, I was determined to be thankful for every last fiber of them.”
A dark huff fell from Shay. He wearily shook his head. “You’re the craziest woman I’ve ever met.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, crazy’s a good thing when it comes to us.” She jabbed her chin up, wishing for heels over her flats to help with the defiant posture. At least the flats had a little sparkle. “So if you think you’re getting rid of me, just because you think you’re some changed creature” —she took another step, reaching out for him— “when it’s you who have changed me…” Tentatively, she lowered her hand to his back. “You need to think again, dammit.”
“Zoe—”
“You opened me again. Filled me in so many incredible ways. I don’t know how I’ll ever communicate—”
“Stop.” He left her with only the stark imprints of his hands on the window after he wrenched away, stalking along the glass to the far side of the bed. “Stop it, Zoe. Now. Please.”
She couldn’t listen to him. She wouldn’t. “Shay—”
“Dammit, Zoe!” He wheeled back toward her, his gaze at full dagger force. “What are you going to say? That you ‘understand’ me now? That you once felt like a mutant, so you ‘get’ everything that’s going on here? It doesn’t fucking work that way! We’re not suddenly soul mates because of this!”
Twisting herself back from the temptation to slap his gorgeous face, she retorted, “You’re right. We’re not soul mates—because of this.” She jutted her chin again, refusing to let him go from the direct demand of her stare. “We were already connected, five nights ago, because of things far more amazing than this.” A new sting pressed behind her eyes. “Go ahead,” she rasped, blinking hard against the tears, “tell me I’m full of shit for that now, too. It won’t change the fact that it is a fact!”
A roar curled out of him as he turned on her again, clawing a hand at the back of his neck. “I can’t do this.”
Zoe snorted. “Can’t or won’t?”
As his head dipped, his hand curled tighter. “I don’t—know how. Dammit, Zoe, I just don’t know how.”
“Because you think you have to do it alone.” She reached and pressed the button to extinguish the bedside lamp. The movement brought her next to him, a good thing since the sole light in the room now came from the city stretching for miles below. She lifted her hand to his downturned jaw, her fingers sizzling from the burn of his thick stubble. “The mission’s over, remember? You don’t have to do this by yourself anymore.”