Storm That Is Sterling

by Lisa Renee Jones

  Sterling narrowed his gaze on Caleb, those words ringing with the assurance that Caleb had seen them in Becca’s head, and that pissed him off. It also forced him to take notice. Becca wouldn’t likely forgive him for taking away her choice, but he wasn’t sure he could stop himself when taking away that choice was about protecting her. “Work with her, but don’t bring up Dorian. Not until we know if she can pull off defending herself.”

  There. He’d agreed. Somewhat. And he could tell from the look in Caleb’s eyes that his friend knew that was all he was going to get right now—perhaps ever. Protecting Becca was becoming as necessary as breathing.

  ***

  Standing in the lab a good hour after Sterling had left her in his bed to make herself “at home,” Becca was hard at work on an ICE immunization, making a list of common earth organisms and substances she believed to be the most worthy of a reactive evaluation.

  The timer on the desk went off telling her it was time to dose. Sterling had left her a large supply in his apartment, and she dug into the lab coat she wore over her favorite black slacks she’d been thrilled to find in the items Cassandra had brought her and removed a vial.

  She popped the lid, and her hands shook, a bit of the drug spilling on the pink shirt peeking out from her lab coat. She brushed it off, grimacing. The shirt was a favorite that she’d gotten from one of the NASA school tours, with “science is moon juice” on the front—some sort of knowledge is brain food kind of theme. She loved the crazy looks on people’s faces when they saw it and didn’t have the courage to ask what it meant.

  She could use some of that amusement right now as she started to tip back the vial and hesitated, wondering why she was shaking so badly. She did have that tattoo on the back of her neck. The minute Sterling had left she’d raced to the mirror to see if it had faded, but sure enough, it was still there.

  Becca eased the vial away from her lips and popped the lid back in place. What if the combination of the three—a partial Lifebond, cancer, and the ICE—had somehow changed her dosing requirements? She needed to draw blood before and after she dosed, because she didn’t feel right at all. In fact, she felt pretty darn nauseous. You need to eat, she told herself.

  But deep down, the woman and the scientist knew it was more than that. What if what she was feeling had to do with her partial Lifebonding with Sterling? But she had no one to talk to… not if she wanted to keep this bond a secret. Becca walked to the cabinet and pulled out the supplies to draw blood. A few minutes later, she placed the blood under a microscope and analyzed it.

  Her breath lodged in her throat at what she saw, and she leaned back. Everything was not as it had been before the Lifebond mark. She’d been right. She had to talk to someone. Kelly or maybe Cassandra. Kelly. She’d simply have to claim doctor-patient privilege and pray that in this world of Renegades that still meant something.

  Chapter 24

  An hour after his abrupt departure from the Cityscape meeting, Sterling had exchanged a phone call with Eddie over the still missing Clanners from the club; unsuccessfully tried to reach Marcus and finally given up; and then did what any good, respectable soldier did when he was going to see the woman driving him insane—he picked up doughnuts. He didn’t bother going to his apartment. He knew where he’d find Becca—already at work in the lab—and he was right. He shoved open the door and brought her into view.

  Even before she turned to face him, awareness ripened in his limbs. He wanted her with the kind of hunger that ravished him inside out. And not merely her body. He wanted her. To wake up next to her… to kiss her good morning… to know what she felt, what she liked and disliked—things he swore he’d never allow himself with a woman, things his duty, his responsibility, had made impossible. No, her cancer, and now the ICE made them impossible, not his career. His chest swelled with the heaviness of regret and anger.

  The instant she heard the door, she pushed off the lab stool and turned to him, lazily stretching beneath the oversized lab coat hiding the curves his memory was plenty ready to conjure up. He wasn’t sure he could ever get enough of her.

  “Hi,” she said, blinking away a glazed look that told him she’d been in deep concentration for quite some time.

  “Morning again,” he said, walking toward her and indicating the box of doughnuts and coffee in his hands. “Brought breakfast since I knew you weren’t likely to eat before you came to work.”

  “I’ve trained you well in such a short time,” she teased. “And you’re right. I didn’t eat. I was eager to start testing my theory for an immunization.”

  He sauntered to a halt in front of her, and before he could stop himself, leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss—the kind of “hello” kiss a couple shared, the kind of kiss he didn’t give women. And he enjoyed it, even wanted to repeat it. Right now, he’d be good with tossing the doughnuts on the table, stripping Becca naked, and finding his way back inside her.

  “You taste like chocolate,” she said, licking her bottom lip and accepting the coffee he offered her.

  “Chocolate-covered glazed doughnuts,” he corrected and set the box on the desk.

  Her eyes lit, little specks of yellow swirling with amber, like a sunset pressing against a dark sky. “I love chocolate-covered glazed,” she said, sitting down in a leather chair. “You saw my doughnut preferences while you were in my head too, I guess.”

  He claimed the seat next to her. “Nope,” he said, teasing her. “No probing head games this morning. I just happen to like them, and we seem to mesh well when it comes to pleasure.” He took a bite. “Hmmm… if this isn’t pleasure, I don’t know what is.”

  She shook her head. “You can’t make me blush anymore. You used up your blush quota several hundred outrageous comments ago.”

  He wiggled a brow at her. “Want to bet on that?”

  “No,” she said quickly and took a bite of her own doughnut. “I’ll go with your ‘no gambling’ rule.”

  He finished off the one in his hand and brushed the crumbs away. “Ever heard of ICE Eclipse?”

  “Not until Kelly called me about an hour ago,” she said. “Adam knows nothing about this, or I’d know since I was testing for the cause of ICE fatalities.” She sipped her coffee. “Kelly’s working on the tox screen now, trying to identify what’s in the Eclipse boost.” She shook her head. “How ironic though that it’s ultimately a human concoction of drugs that’s killing people. We humans love to destroy ourselves. Not that I think ICE is safe. I simply think the side effects are going to manifest later with far more menacing consequences than death.”

  A knock sounded on the door, and Sterling went completely, utterly still. The doughnut he’d eaten rolled in his stomach. After the conversation he’d had with his fellow Renegades about Becca, protectiveness surged inside him.

  “Must be urgent for someone to risk coming near me,” Becca said, attempting a light tone and failing.

  She felt isolated, and she didn’t like it, he realized. And who could blame her? If only teaching her to control her abilities meant freedom rather than the danger of being used as bait.

  With a few long strides, Sterling yanked open the lab door and did a double take when he found Damion standing there. Sterling gave his buzz cut and desert fatigues a once-over—Mr. All-American soldier, his ass, always preaching about rules and honor. He didn’t even know what honor was. “You have a lot of balls coming here. What do you want?”

  “For you to stop saying shit like that to me,” he said. “I want to talk to Becca.”

  “I already asked her if she remembers you, if that’s your plan,” Sterling said. “She doesn’t. And you know that, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  Damion ran a hand over his hair. “See. There you go again.” He ground his teeth. “I did not hand Becca over to Tad. Let me talk to her. She was scared when she saw me, reacting to fear. Give her a chance to remember me, so I can put your damn accusations in the grave where they belong.” He lowered his voice. “Unles
s you’re afraid she’ll remember something you don’t want her to remember.”

  “Pissing me off isn’t helping your case,” Sterling growled. “And news alert, smart guy—you can’t come near her without passing out.”

  “Caleb said she has more control now,” he said. “And I’m willing to take the risk of passing out to end this.”

  “Does Caleb know you’re here?”

  “No,” Damion said, “but I’m all for including him if you want to. This thing between us needs to end, Sterling.”

  “Sterling,” Becca said from behind him.

  Too close to Damion for comfort. Sterling glowered at Damion. “Go away.” He went to shut the door.

  Damion’s foot blocked it from closing. “Not until I see Becca.”

  “Sterling?” Becca said again.

  Damn it. “Wait outside while I talk to her.” Damion didn’t move, his jaw set in stubborn determination. Sterling made a frustrated sound. “Surprising her is not the way to meet her and stay standing on two feet. I need to prepare her.”

  “I’m not leaving until I talk to her. Eventually she has to come out of that lab.” Reluctantly, Damion released the door and stepped away from it.

  Sterling shut the door and turned to face Becca.

  “I heard part of what he said. He wants to talk to me. Who is he?”

  “The guy with the knife from the backseat of the car,” Sterling said. “Damion.”

  “Right,” she said, her expression thoughtful. “You asked me if I remembered him from the day I was abducted.”

  “Yes,” Sterling agreed, hesitating as he selected his words cautiously. He didn’t want her to start breaking glass and floating things in the air again. “Something happened that day. He insists it didn’t. I know it did.”

  “Something bad, I guess.” He nodded, and she asked, “Can’t Caleb just look in his head? Or feel out his emotions. Or whatever it is he does. Can’t he figure it out?”

  “He says Damion is innocent. I was there. He isn’t.”

  “I see,” Becca said, looking uneasy. “He seems determined and certain he’ll prove his innocence. Otherwise why would he be here?”

  “For exactly that reason,” he said. “You were passed out. You aren’t going to remember anything. But him showing up here, demanding to see you, aware he might pass out, makes him look innocent—or so he hopes. He doesn’t fool me for a minute. I don’t want you anywhere near the man.”

  “What exactly do you think he did?”

  Backed into a corner, Sterling contemplated keeping the truth from her. But the way she saw into his head, who knew when she’d find the truth anyway. “He helped Tad capture you.”

  She gaped. “And yet he’s still here with the Renegades?”

  “He insists the half dozen or so bullets I’d taken made me delusional,” he said. “I wasn’t.”

  “And Caleb?”

  “There were other Renegades there that day,” he said. “No one saw what happened but me. Caleb won’t convict him on my word, not when I was injured. Damion is one of our most trusted Renegades. We were…”

  “Friends,” she finished for him. “And his betrayal hurts.”

  Could he hide nothing from this woman? “It didn’t make me happy, no.”

  “I’ll do it,” she said decisively. “I’ll talk to him. I have to. We need to know the truth with so much on the line.”

  We. Why did her using that reference make him feel so damn good? He’d never been part of a “we” in his life. “I don’t like it.”

  “I got that from the way you tried to slam the door on his foot,” she said. “Let’s do this and get it over with.”

  A knock sounded on the door. “I’m not going away, Sterling,” Damion yelled.

  “Hold your damn horses,” Sterling shouted over his shoulder.

  Becca laughed, the sound resonating with nervous energy. “If he’s this eager to throw himself under the bus, let him do it. Open the door, Sterling.”

  Sterling stood there, willing himself to move, but damn, if he didn’t feel a “me Tarzan, you Jane” rush that made him want to beat on his chest, scream “mine,” and then go hide Becca someplace safe. Only he couldn’t hide her—not from what she faced. There was no place safe. And as long as Damion remained inside the Renegade operation, they were all in danger. Still he didn’t move.

  “I really don’t like this, Becca.”

  “I know,” she said and walked to stand beside him.

  “The anchor thing,” he said. “Maybe you should use me now.”

  “I thought of that,” she said. “But you are pretty upset with him. I don’t want to risk what you’re feeling somehow clouding my own memories or upsetting me so much that I make him pass out.” She reached out and took his hand. “But thank you, and if I need you, I’d appreciate it if that offer stays open.”

  Sterling stared down at their hands, hers so delicate. At that moment, he felt small and weak compared to the bravery of this little female. He’d been alone so long—all his life. Alone was easier. Alone didn’t come with good-bye or the emotion he had welling in his chest. Yet he was crazy about Becca, unable to turn away from her.

  He brought her hand to his lips. “I am here if you need me.” Always, he wanted to add, but that inferred that “always” was possible. So he didn’t.

  Sterling released her hand and turned to the door, prepared to lay out some rules to Damion before he walked into the lab.

  ***

  With a deep breath, Becca steeled herself for Damion’s entrance by mentally touching the shield Caleb had taught her to erect around her mind. She found security in its presence. And by doing so, she felt a sense of much-needed control.

  The door opened, and a man walked into the room—tall, broad, and athletic, like Sterling, but the similarities ended there. Damion wore army fatigues rather than the faded jeans and light blue T-shirt Sterling wore. His sandy brown hair was razored short, where Sterling wore his light blond hair thick and spiky. And the man’s eyes—the true GTECH black concealed under a façade of his natural human shade of forest green—contrasted with Sterling’s teal green.

  For a moment they all stood there in silence, the unspoken expectation in the air that Damion would pass out, but Becca felt not even an inkling of fear. In fact, the way Sterling was standing over Damion’s shoulder, looking like the big, bad, boogeyman ready to beat his face in if he made the wrong move, almost made her want to laugh. Instead she smiled to herself. She found his protectiveness adorable and sexy. And it filled her with warmth.

  “Thanks for seeing me, Becca,” Damion said, when he’d apparently decided he was not going to end up a floor mat.

  Becca glanced from Sterling back to Damion, studying the sharp lines of his face, trying to find a memory of that day at her house. His skin was sun-stroked, the slight lines around his eyes and mouth aging him to what she guessed was early thirties. He was handsome in a rugged kind of way, but not familiar.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, her lips thinning in disappointment. “I don’t remember you. Not from that day at my house, only from the backseat of the car, when you were trying to cut out the tracking device.”

  “Damn it,” Damion cursed, shaking his head. “Try again. Try harder.”

  Looking exceedingly irritated, Sterling barked, “She said she doesn’t remember. And if you think showing up here to see her somehow makes you look more innocent, it doesn’t. It makes you look desperate.”

  Damion whirled on him. “We were in the same army unit together,” he said. “I’ve fought by your side for years. I’ve bled for you. How can you think I’d hand Becca over to Tad?”

  “A lot of men we both served with are now Zodius,” Sterling said. “So tell me what part of serving together proves a damn thing.”

  Damion made a frustrated sound and turned to Becca. “Caleb says you have abilities you haven’t accessed yet, like getting in people’s minds. Try and get into mine. Try and see what happened t
hat day.” He took a step toward Becca, and Sterling grabbed his arm.

  Damion shoved off Sterling’s grip and turned his attention on Becca again.

  “I don’t know,” Becca said, taken off guard. Could she do this? She’d been able to get into Sterling’s mind because he’d let her do it. Or, she thought, maybe it was because they were Lifebonds. She wasn’t sure she could get into Damion’s.

  “She’s not giving you a chance to somehow open her up to another one of Dorian’s mind attacks,” Sterling said, stepping in front of Becca. “You’re gone, Damion. You got your chance. It didn’t work.”

  “Oh come on now, Sterling,” he said. “We both know why you don’t want her in my head. You’re afraid she’ll see what really happened and hate you, not me.”

  The next thing Becca knew, Sterling had a hold of Damion and was shoving him backward. They crashed against the door in a hard thud that rattled the supply shelf resting a few feet away.

  A horrible feeling twisted in Becca’s gut. What had happened that day at her house that Sterling wouldn’t want her to know about? She had to know—needed to know. She inhaled and charged toward the two men, no idea what she was doing, but determined nonetheless. She stopped at the side of the two men and grabbed both their arms, focusing her mind at the same time. And the images started to flow.

  Chapter 25

  Images rushed at Becca, spiking her mind like needles in a pillow—thin, sharp, precise. She gasped and stumbled backwards, landing on something sharp.

  “Becca—” She heard his distant voice, an echo in a tunnel that suffocated her with darkness.

  Suddenly she was in her house again, in Sterling’s arms as he ran down the stairs, in his head, and in his body. There was pain, so much pain, and fear for her. He wasn’t going to make it. He wasn’t going to save her. He ran harder, smoke rasping through his lungs—time stood still as pain shattered his side, his back, his arm. He burst through the back door onto the porch and found Damion waiting for him. He resisted handing her over—something told him not to hand her over—but he trusted Damion, and he was no longer capable of protecting her. She felt the relief for her safety swelling inside Sterling, even as the pain of his injuries splintered through him like a million pieces of broken glass, biting through his muscles with unbearable pain.