Reviving Zeke

by Becca Jameson

  Zeke actually smiled. It was rare for him, but it was warranted. “Maybe you should have been a detective instead of a doctor.”

  Ryan laughed. “If I had taken that route, you wouldn’t be standing here today.”

  That was sobering. “Right.” He did owe this man his life, a guy who was just a young kid in the middle of college when he last saw him ten years ago. Thank God Ryan had never given up hope. He and Dr. Damon Bardsley were responsible for everything that had happened in the last few years. Ryan had worked furiously on curing AP12. Damon had worked just as intently on how to revive the preserved team.

  Female voices caught Zeke’s attention at the same moment Ryan turned in their direction also.

  Emily and Michelle stepped into their line of sight.

  “Ryan?” Emily asked. “What are you guys doing out here?”

  “Just getting some air. It’s been a long day.”

  Zeke watched Emily step in front of Ryan, set her hands on his arms, and tip her head back. In the moonlight, he could see the shimmer of tears as they trailed down her face. “We just spoke to Temple. She told us about Dade.”

  Zeke swallowed, emotions bubbling up inside him, one of which was jealousy that Ryan would spend the night in the arms of a woman he loved, being comforted for the loss of a friend—no matter how fake the story was. He wondered if Ryan would tell Emily at some point. It seemed strange to keep such an emotional secret from his own girlfriend.

  A glance at Michelle made Zeke soften to the woman he spent most of his time avoiding or grumbling at. She wiped a tear from her own eye, though she tried to hide it.

  If Zeke were capable of normal emotional reactions, he would give her a hug or at least pat her on the shoulder. But he wasn’t normal. He was Zeke. He had a shield around him that no one could penetrate, and he liked it that way. No way in hell was he going to touch any part of Michelle Houston. If he ever touched her skin, he feared he might break the spell that kept him distant from her.

  She was both soft and firm at the same time. Considering she was military, she was fit and strong. Meanwhile, he saw glimpses of her vulnerability all the time. Things that made her far more human and set her further apart from his damn ex-wife every day.

  At first she had reminded him of Meredith far too much to swallow, but over time, he came to realize they were nothing alike. Eventually he wondered how he ever thought the two of them were even physically similar.

  While Ryan pulled Emily into his embrace and kissed the top of her head, Zeke stood an awkward distance from Michelle, dragging his toe in the dirt.

  “How long do you think he has?” Michelle asked in a weak voice.

  Shit. Zeke hadn’t thought to ask Ryan how far the lie extended and what the details were.

  Ryan set his chin on Emily’s head and met Michelle’s gaze. “It’s hard to say. Maybe a few weeks or even months if he’s lucky. I can’t predict how fast the disease will attack his blood cells.”

  Emily tipped her head back, still gripping Ryan around the waist, but setting her chin on his chest. “You’re sure? There’s no way?” She was grasping at straws in desperation. Zeke had known her for years. She was as educated as any other member of their team. If she had seen the test results as he described them, she wouldn’t be asking Ryan for a ray of hope.

  Blood cells didn’t lie. They were either multiplying or they were diminishing. Ryan would now begin convincing everyone they knew that Dade’s blood cells were not reproducing.

  The bombshell that had landed on Zeke an hour ago now took on new meaning. He not only had the privilege of knowing with immense happiness in his heart that his best friend would live, but he also had to put on a show for everyone around that would not be easy to maintain day after day.

  On the other hand, he knew he’d been a bit of a jackass for the last few weeks. Once he’d established himself as someone who didn’t quite respect Michelle, he had easily slid into a rut, grumbling at everyone around him and maintaining his stupid façade as some form of self-preservation. Pride. Even the small connection they’d shared after she thanked him for reentering her data was doused moments later by his instinctive surliness.

  It shouldn’t be too much of a stretch now to add grief and frustration and even anger to his repertoire. He shifted his gaze to Michelle to find her swiping away a tear. A lump formed in his throat as she stood there with her arms crossed over her chest, looking shell-shocked and so very sad.

  He wanted to reach out for her, as a human being if nothing else. But he couldn’t bring himself to move a single inch.

  The reality about his feelings for Michelle was far different from the game he played. He didn’t simply respect her as a colleague; he was downright awed by her. She was brilliant. Her IQ was surely higher than his. She retained information like a sponge, even weeks after it was presented to her.

  She had ten years of additional research experience on him that made her far superior in a field where they could have been equals if he hadn’t taken an unintentional decade-long hiatus.

  On top of all that, she was sexy in a way that most men probably wouldn’t notice or appreciate. The reality was, he found her intelligence attractive, which meant every time she moved around a room, he got tongue-tied. And yet, he continued the farce.

  “This is all so unfair,” Emily cried.

  “I know, babe. I know.” Ryan smoothed his hand up and down Emily’s back, consoling her. Lying to her.

  What a mess.

  Another glance at Michelle—which probably hadn’t been wise—showed her lips pursed in an obvious attempt to avoid full-on crying.

  Yep, Zeke was officially a world-class asshole. The stab to his heart was new, however. It had been a long time since he felt any sort of emotion toward a woman, including shared sorrow.

  After Meredith, he’d sworn off all women and buried himself in his work. He had never quite figured out if he’d been a fool to fall for her or if she’d been a two-faced bitch who gave him the bait and switch. Either way, he was the loser, and he had no intention of ever making a mistake like that again.

  The plan had wreaked havoc on his sex life, since he also hadn’t slept with a woman in the last few years—the ten-year gap not included in his mental calculations. The only sex Zeke had been a part of in the four years since Meredith left had involved his fist and usually his shower. But they did the job amazingly—as long as he didn’t mind having no human contact.

  The truth was, he was exhausted from the ruse. Day after day of pretending he was sour and didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone but himself. He’d been in this same funk even before he was preserved, and it hadn’t improved with vitrification.

  If anything, his heart was even more frozen than before.

  The sudden distinctive sound of a gunshot rang out loud through the night air. Ryan immediately tossed Emily to the ground, his body covering hers completely.

  Michelle looked too stunned to move, and without thinking, Zeke took two long strides closer to her and dove for her, tackling her to the ground. He covered her head with his hand and then tipped his ear to the sky to listen.

  Michelle yelped as she hit the ground, and now she was panting while struggling to free herself. “Jesus, Zeke. Get off me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You’re smashing me. I can’t breathe. Though it’s also possible you collapsed one my lungs in your unnecessary macho attempt to save the day.”

  “Shh.” He set a hand over her mouth to stop her rambling. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy her voice. He did. It was deep and rich, the sound vibrating through her body and into his, plastered on top of her. But he needed to listen.

  She shoved at him repeatedly while he held a hand over her mouth and waited. For what? Anything. Another gunshot.

  Moments ago, the light from the moon had seemed impressive. Now, with the threat of gunfire, the night seemed darker. Zeke glanced at Ryan who was inching toward him with Emily practically smothered under him.
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  Michelle grabbed Zeke’s hand and wrenched it off her mouth. She shot him a glare as she wiggled out from under him. Her words were aimed at Ryan. “What direction do you think the shots came from?” she whispered.

  Ryan nodded over his shoulder. “Front entrance.” He rolled onto one hip and pulled his phone from his pocket. After tapping the screen, he spoke. “What the fuck is going on, Dad?”

  Zeke could hear Tushar’s voice clearly. “Some crazy man is waving a gun around, firing at random outside the front gate. Where are you?”

  “Outside.” Ryan pushed to sitting.

  Zeke did the same, as did Michelle and Emily. The front gate was far enough away they should be safe from stray bullets.

  “Has anyone been shot?” Ryan asked.

  “Not yet. He’s aiming at the sky.”

  “What does he want?”

  “Based on the report coming from the entrance, he’s holding a Bible in the other hand and rambling about God’s will.”

  Zeke rolled his eyes. “Great,” he muttered. Just what they needed. A religious zealot gone nuts.

  Another shot rang out.

  Even though the four of them were a relatively safe distance from the entrance, they all ducked. “Let’s get out of here,” Zeke proposed. “We’re too close.” He rose to a crouched position and pointed toward the line of small homes that had been erected to house employees. There were about a dozen lined up in a row that hadn’t been there ten years ago. They were closer than the bunker itself.

  Another shot filled the air as Zeke scrambled in a hunched position toward the homes. He could sense the others behind him. “What’s wrong with people?” Stray bullets were extremely unsafe. Didn’t this asshole realize what goes up must come down?

  He rounded the first home and reached out instinctively to grab Michelle and pull her behind him. At least they could stand from this new position. The barrier made him relax.

  Zeke realized Ryan was still on the phone with his dad when he spoke again. “We’re safe.”

  “Good. Stay there until they can get this guy tackled,” Tushar ordered.

  Michelle set a hand on Zeke’s arm, surprising him. Her gaze was serious. “You’re bleeding.” She grabbed the front of his scrubs and lifted the hem to dab at his forehead.

  Zeke had no idea he’d been injured. From what?

  Emily peered around and rose onto her tiptoes. “Probably from diving over Michelle.” She smiled. “I didn’t know you were so calm under pressure,” she teased. “Or so quick.”

  “Who says I’m calm?” he shot back. He felt anything but calm as he swatted Michelle’s hand away and touched his forehead with his fingers. He winced at the sting. He hoped the bleeding had stopped because the last thing he needed or could endure would be Michelle’s gentle touch on his skin.

  Emily’s face lit up and she slapped her forehead before digging in her pocket and pulling out a set of keys. She dangled them in front of them as if she held the secret to the universe.

  “Babe?” Ryan asked.

  “I have Blair’s house keys. Hers is the third one over.”

  Ryan smiled. “Excellent.” He grabbed her hand and half jogged behind the row of homes to the third one.

  Zeke followed behind Michelle.

  When they reached the back door, Ryan took the keys and opened it. “Why do you have Blair’s keys?”

  “She wanted someone to have them to check on things while she was gone.” Emily’s face fell as she sighed. “I had hoped her departure wouldn’t be forever.”

  Ryan pulled her close to his side as they all stepped into the kitchen. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you think she’ll return?” Emily asked. “After…”

  Ryan shook his head. “Honestly, no. I think she’s going to give notice to Temple soon.”

  Emily pursed her lips as she nodded. “I figured that would be the case, and I can’t blame her. I hope one day you can arrange for me to be able to speak to her.”

  “I will. As soon as I can,” Ryan responded.

  Zeke’s throat was too closed to comment. Even though no one had mentioned Dade’s name, the reason for Blair’s departure and her resignation was because she had left the bunker to protect Dade. How many stories would have to be concocted to explain why she never returned? Ryan was making shit up.

  Zeke was both happy that Dade had found a woman he loved, while at the same time depressed to know it might be a long time before Zeke was able to speak to his friend again. Possibly forever.

  Michelle’s hand landed on Zeke’s arm again. “Come on. Let me look at your forehead in the bathroom. I’m sure Blair has a first aid kit.”

  Zeke followed her around the corner and down a short hall, even though the last thing he wanted was for her to fawn over his stupid cut or any other part of him. Arguing would only make matters worse.

  It had been one thing to keep his distance from her before he’d touched her. Now, he was slightly fucked. Landing on her, touching her face, her hand on his forehead, his arm. Her face so close to his…

  When they entered the small hall bathroom, she shut the door, flipped on the lights, and pointed at the toilet seat. “Sit. Let me see.”

  He stared at the door for a moment, wondering why she’d felt the need to close them inside before realizing she was one step ahead of him. It would be best for no one to suspect anyone was inside the house if by chance a crazy person happened to breach the gates.

  The idea was preposterous. There were always half a dozen guards at the entrance and six others around the perimeter. An idiot waving a gun and a Bible didn’t stand a chance. Nevertheless, there was no reason to risk anyone finding them in Blair’s home.

  Michelle ran a washcloth under the water and then pressed it to Zeke’s temple. “You scraped it good.” She stepped closer, straddling his thigh, one hand on the back of his head, the other dabbing the wound.

  Zeke held his breath. Her damn vanilla shampoo wafted toward his nose. Her chest was inches from his face. Her legs were parted. He bit his tongue to keep from making an embarrassing noise.

  He’d never stood this close to her. He’d avoided her as if she were diseased for weeks. And now all his efforts to keep his distance were running out the window with one stupid scratch on his forehead. His reaction to her was bordering on ridiculous. How hard had he hit his head?

  “Can you tolerate a little pain? I should try to get the dirt washed off.” Her brown eyes were soft and concerned. Normally she reserved that caring look for everyone else in the bunker except him. For him, she reserved cold frustration.

  He could tolerate any amount of pain. What he couldn’t tolerate was her standing so close, touching him so intimately, exhaling against his skin. “I’m sure it’s fine.” He sat still anyway, afraid if he moved an inch, it would either be to swat her away and hurt her feelings or haul her closer and kiss her senseless.

  Her braid had come loose at some point, the rubber band missing. The thick mass of wavy hair fell across her shoulders as it worked its way free.

  Zeke fisted his hands on his lap to avoid the instinct to run them through her hair. He’d give anything to see if it was as soft as it looked. Hell, he wanted to bury his face in it and inhale her scent.

  At some point in the last six weeks he’d lost his mind entirely. Zeke Holleran had taken a leave of absence and left an unknown imposter in his wake.

  “Sit still,” she whispered. The sound of her sweet voice so filled with concern burrowed under his skin.

  He had no idea he had been moving at all. He winced again when whatever she did next hurt. “What the hell are you doing? Put some damn ointment on it, so we can get out of here.” This room is too damn small.

  She leaned back and glared at him. “You want your forehead to heal with dirt in it?”

  “Good grief.” He twisted his body around to glance in the mirror and realized she was right. He’d obviously slammed his head into the dirt. “Let me lean over the sink. Flush it out
with water.” At least there were no more sounds of gunfire. Hopefully the fool at the gate had been taken down.

  Zeke stood between the toilet and the sink and leaned forward.

  Michelle turned on the faucet, tested the temperature with her hand, and then used a cup to pour the warm water over his temple. After three tries, she seemed satisfied. “There. Much better. Sit back down.”

  He held his breath as she resumed her perusal, dabbing the cuts dry and then putting ointment on the spot.

  Her breast brushed his cheek, and he squeezed his eyes closed in an attempt to ignore it. It was ridiculous to be reacting to her since she was wearing scrubs. She was almost always wearing scrubs. They all were. Everyone who lived in the bunker had a wardrobe of scrubs in every color.

  Tonight, Michelle’s were a soft blue.

  When her knee hit his thigh, he grabbed her waist and shoved her backward. “That’s enough.”

  She gasped. “I didn’t put a bandage on it yet.”

  “You’re not going to. It’s fine.” He held her at arm’s length, praying she would back off. He didn’t even lift his gaze to look her in the eye.

  She jerked herself free and turned toward the sink to wash her hands. “Zeke, you are the singular most difficult person I have ever met. I get that you’re an introvert or whatever, but you don’t have to be an ass when someone’s trying to help you.”

  He flinched, still sitting on the toilet. Fuck.

  She dried her hands and planted herself in front of him, palms on her hips. “It’s fine if you don’t like me. I’m sure there are plenty of people in the world who don’t like me. I reconciled with myself that not everyone in the world was going to like me a long time ago. But we’re stuck working together for the foreseeable future, so it would be nice if you didn’t treat me like pond scum.”

  She twisted around, taking a step toward the door.