Lust

by Lana Pecherczyk

Daisy hesitated. Julius used the opportunity to tap something into his device, somehow still functional. The two replicates that had awoken straightened their spines as though receiving a jolt of electricity, or an electrical command.

  For fuck’s sake.

  Liza aimed her rifles, one in each hand. If they healed like the Seven, then a bullet might not kill them. But it would slow them the fuck down. Just like her poison.

  “Call your dogs off,” she warned. “Or I kill them.”

  Julius laughed. He hit more keys on the device. More replicate tanks exploded, more bodies spilled out.

  “Take her,” he barked at the two sentient clones. He pointed at Liza. “Secure her and bring her to me.”

  Liza fired, shooting straight into a clone. He jerked. Then kept coming.

  Daisy glanced at Liza and a pained look ghosted her expression.

  “Whatever you’re thinking, Daisy, no,” she shouted.

  But her sister refused to listen. Daisy muttered something to Julius just as a loud crash shook the foundations and everyone stumbled. Her family was coming. Liza had to hold on a little longer.

  She shut her eyes and let in every iota of panic she’d been holding at bay. All the fear, pain, hurt, and confusion that swamped her when her family was threatened, and welcomed it. Because it triggered her ability. Yellow mist oozed from her mouth. Her aching hands heated, ready to disperse the poison stored beneath her skin.

  She inched toward Julius, but his eyes darted between Liza and Daisy, contemplating, and then he nodded as though reaching a decision.

  Time seemed to stand still. Horror filled Liza. Daisy had done something. Offered him something.

  “Daisy!” Liza shouted.

  Daisy let go of her knife. Resigned misty eyes met Liza’s and with the drop of her beating heart, Liza knew. Her plan to turn Daisy had worked… too well. Daisy had flipped sides. She was making the sacrifice play.

  “No.” Liza’s throat clogged up. No!

  Daisy whispered, “This is me catching you.”

  And then she allowed herself to be hustled toward the exit. Replicates blocked the way, hiding them from view as they left the building. The first replicate’s veins flashed blue. He had Tony’s firepower. Shit. They were powered, just like the Seven.

  A scream of frustration tore from Liza. She pressed the triggers, a spray of bullets released, catching replicate bodies everywhere. When magazines clicked empty, she dropped the rifles, ran, and picked up Daisy’s fallen knife. She whirled into a twister of yellow and red. Poison and blood.

  Toxic projectiles hissed like missiles from her left palm into faces, making them flinch, and then she struck with the knife, severing tendons, slicing arteries. Liza screamed through it all, pushing as much toxin as she could from her throat. If she got close enough, she spat into their eyes. They might have recovered if given the time, but she didn’t let them.

  Time belonged to her, at least for a few moments. It wasn’t until she slipped on a long puddle of liquid and almost flipped onto her back, that backup arrived.

  “Greed,” she rasped and pointed at the exit. “He took her. He took our sister.”

  Griffin’s eyes bore into her as he flourished his long metal bo staff and then stopped to take in the scene. “The fight is still going on outside. There are soldiers everywhere.” He pointed at the fallen. “There are more of these things out there. There were other warehouses.”

  Shit.

  Liza’s energy waned. Despair trickled in. “You should get out. There’s a lot of toxin in this room.”

  He gave her a last look and left. When Liza turned to survey her devastation, there was nothing but blood and death.

  29

  The Sinner had Parker by the throat. His rain battered head hung precariously over the edge of the warehouse roof as the battle raged below them. Every so often, shots were fired. Blue fire flashed on the horizon. Electricity crackled. Metal flew through the air. None of it was directly below, but everywhere at the same time. There were explosions, crashes, and fire. Chaos reigned. He ignored it all to face the threat on top of him.

  One enemy at a time. He urged himself to focus on the Sinner.

  She was an assassin for the Hildegard Sisterhood, a secret female-only faction of the church. The same organization had wanted Mary to kill seven innocent children born in a lab many decades ago. They weren’t comfortable with the fifty-fifty chance of Parker and his siblings turning evil.

  He snarled at the woman trying to strangle him, using her sharpened sai in a maneuver that made his brute strength useless. One twitch and he’d take a puncture to the jugular. She was frustratingly dexterous and strong for someone much smaller than him. She was the deadliest person he’d seen in battle since Mary and had drawn shallow blood with her sai, darted out of his reach, and kept it up like an annoying fly. The stamina it took to meet someone like him was remarkable, but he’d not gone without his own wins. She favored one leg, which meant he must have hit her. All he needed to do was exploit her weakness.

  He glanced over the edge of the roof. Machinery and meat grinding equipment lay in piles beneath. A gun fired, its bullet ricocheted off equipment. Going down wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t concede, anyway. He would take this Sinner into custody if it was the last thing he did. Then he would torture her for information.

  If he failed, Mary’s life would be at risk.

  She’d gone against orders, saved Parker and his siblings, and taken them on the run. It might have been thirty-or-so years, but the Sisterhood had found them. Mary always said if they did, then all of their lives were at risk. No one walked away from the Sisterhood.

  “We don’t have time for this!” the Sinner snarled. Two fierce eyes sparkled over her blood-red face mask. That was all he could see of her face. Even her hair was obscured by the black hood.

  The Sinner uniform was similar to the Seven’s because Parker had based the design on Mary’s original gear. Since AIMI was down, today they were all in their old fighting leathers. A pang of irritation hit him. It was his fault the suits had failed them. He should have come up with a manual override plan in case the computer went down. He knew better.

  It was unacceptable.

  Parker sucked in his throat, giving himself some slack, and then kneed the Sinner, aiming for her bad leg. He sent her reeling back across the roof, skidding in the rain. Back on his feet, he resumed a standoff with the woman. They circled each other, neither willing to make the next move.

  Her sai was now gone, making both their weapons lost somewhere over the side of the building. All they had left was their bodies.

  That’s all he needed. He was stronger, and he had no handicaps. Not like her, with her limp and weak leg. That sai had been her saving grace, and he’d been holding back because he wanted to bring her back to HQ functional.

  “I’m here to help,” she said.

  “Sure you are.” He booted her weak knee.

  But it was as though she expected it. Her weakness became a strength. She dodged, ducked, flipped back on one hand, used it to support her weight before kicking out with her other leg. He jerked back, missing the sole of her boot by a hair’s breadth. They danced around each other, with each other, and if Parker didn’t know she was a liar and killer without compunction, he might have enjoyed himself. But she was right, they didn’t have time for this. He had to get down to his family.

  What were the Sisterhood doing here?

  Maybe they were in on it.

  An explosion shook the foundations of the warehouse. He stumbled. The Sinner used the shift in equilibrium to slam her foot into his sternum. He went back. Back. The horizon tipped, rain pelted his face, and he went over the edge. He scrambled for purchase, his hand gripped the gutter. Slipped. Held. He winced as the metal cut through his old leather gloves and into his palms. Gravity took hold, jerked him down, and his arm almost ripped from his socket.

  The fall wasn’t far. Two-stories. It was the equipment beneath that worrie
d him. If he fell the wrong way, he’d injure himself. He’d survive, but recovery would be a bitch. Breathing hard, he looked up.

  The Sinner’s masked face dipped over the roof. Rain pattered her head, leaving a halo of mist that glowed under the faint moonlight.

  “You stubborn mule,” she chided. “Take my hand.”

  She reached down.

  “Fuck you,” he growled, and looked down to calculate the best way to drop.

  If he pushed against the wall with his foot, he could get clearance.

  At the ground, a dark figure walked into his scope. Another Sinner. She tilted her face up, eyes crinkling. She moved around the equipment and found something.

  “What the fuck is she doing?” he mumbled.

  The woman pulled a long power cord from beneath the equipment, made a show of searching, and then plugged it into an external socket. She looked up, saluted her friend on the roof, and then pulled a lever on the grinder. The rotating blades started turning.

  “Crazy bitch,” he snarled.

  “Parker,” the Sinner shouted above him. Her halo disappeared as a spray of cold rain buffeted the side of her head. “Don’t let your pride get in the way.”

  She did not just say that.

  She reached again.

  He glanced down. Fucking meat grinder. Heat rose up his neck and slammed into his face. He would not give her the satisfaction. He couldn’t. He was better.

  “Parker,” she urged.

  The sound of a helicopter gearing up filtered through the din. Someone was getting away. The Deadly Seven were winning, and the bastards that ran this place were fleeing for their lives. Damn it. There was no time for pride. He swung his dangling hand up and latched onto the Sinner. She gripped his bare wrist as he gripped hers.

  An almighty spark zipped up his arm, sending power soaring through his body. No! He knew what this was. This feeling of strength, roaring through him like a wild beast. His bones started to crack. His blood started to boil. He locked eyes with the Sinner.

  She seemed to sense something was wrong. Very wrong, and it was. This woman was his mate.

  Over his dead body.

  He fell.

  30

  “What is the meaning of this, Special Agent Luciano?” Director Dixon asked as he strode through the crowded lot of the meatpacking plant. First responders were everywhere, from the Fire Department, to paramedics, to the Feds, SWAT and the local police. Dixon wasn’t happy to be one of the last on the scene. “I told you to investigate the Deadly Seven, not...” He surveyed the devastation, illuminated by the blue and red of law enforcement. “Whatever hell hole this is.”

  Joe cast his eye over the mess, trying to be patient and to see what his director saw. Yes, there were mercenary bodies, slimy replicate bodies, and blood sprayed on walls. A meat grinder had remnants of Parker’s body matter. The warehouse was riddled with bullet holes. Not to mention the dead bodies hanging from meat hooks, the broken replicate tanks, and evidence of more blood thirsty battle. Forensics were having a field day. The Deadly Seven had truly come in, decimated, and conquered. But if they hadn’t arrived in time to catch the clones while they were fresh and still learning how to use their limbs, the body count might tell a different story.

  Joe was grateful Briggs, Houlahan and the rest of the CCPD arrived when he’d eventually called it in. They were first on the scene which meant the director couldn’t sweep this under the rug.

  “With all due respect, sir, I did. That investigation led me here.”

  “So they’re responsible for this mess?”

  Joe jerked back, incredulous. “No. Well, sort of. They stopped these clones from wreaking too much havoc, but they had nothing to do with the experiments.”

  “Destruction of property isn’t exactly the charge we were hoping to bring against the vigilantes.”

  Captain Morais arrived and cleared his throat. He settled his shark eyes on the director. “You should be commending your agent, director, not chastising him. What he’s done tonight is a win for our side of the law. Any fool can see that.”

  Dixon’s eyebrows raised so high, they almost disappeared into his hairline. But the captain didn’t back down.

  “In fact,” Morais continued. “If you’re unhappy with Luciano, then we’ll take him back. With a raise.” He faced Joe. “Your work has been stellar. Not only did you capture the Ripper killer, but you saved one of our own, and uncovered this shit show at the same time. We would be lucky to have you back. You’re a credit to our team. What do you say, Luciano?”

  Joe didn’t have the heart to tell him that much of what had happened was circumstance, but then again, a lot wasn’t. Captain Morais was right, he’d successfully juggled three incidents, all with optimal outcomes, all finished on the right side of the law. Maybe he was better off working in this city. He was reaching the age of retirement for a Fed. Only a few more years and guys like Geoff would be in their prime at the agency.

  Joe turned in the direction Liza had left in the back of an ambulance. She’d surreptitiously removed her Deadly Seven outfit, handed it to her family, and then stayed in her underwear until backup arrived. It made her look like one of the kidnapping victims they’d rescued, who were also at the hospital receiving care. A part of him still felt wrong about keeping these secrets, but he knew now that, in doing so, he was making the world a better place. He also knew the lie wasn’t the first step to becoming like his father. He would never be like that man, no matter what. And he also knew he didn’t need to strive to be better, to impress Parker, or gain his respect.

  He may not fly from building to building, or have any superpowers, but Joe respected himself. He was where he needed to be, with Liza—helping her and her family. He’d found where he belonged.

  He smiled at the captain. “This city has a piece of my heart. I’d love to stay, sir. Whether that’s with the Feds, or with you, remains to be seen. One thing I know for sure is that this investigation is only beginning, but I’m going to see it through to the end.”

  Joe glanced at the director, hoping he got the message. Joe would investigate the Syndicate, hopefully with the FBI’s blessing, but if he was road blocked, he’d find a way to continue elsewhere. Nothing would stop him now.

  31

  The wails of a baby filtered into the waiting room of the maternity ward in Cardinal City General Hospital. Like the rest of her family, Liza had come straight here after they’d returned home and cleaned up. She’d double scrubbed in the shower to remove any toxin from herself. Joe stayed at the packing plant. She’d wanted to stay with him, but knew it wasn’t possible.

  There would be more instances like this where she had to leave him to do his job. But on the upside, she had more freedom to live her life. Like now. At least until her suspension was over, and then she was returning to work. She would find a way to balance her two lives eventually, and if she had to take some time off while things heated with the Syndicate, then that’s what she’d do. But her blood would always be blue.

  A newborn baby cried.

  “Was that us?” she asked Lilo, also pacing in the waiting room.

  “I don’t know. Griff, go ask someone.” She patted her husband on the chest. He flinched at the sudden contact, but then softened his gaze on his wife.

  “I’ll be back,” he said.

  Tony and Bailey were there too, snuggled into a corner seat, preferring to wait virtually attached to each other. Sloan and Max were somewhere walking the halls. Mary and Flint remained at home. Mary had been injured more than she admitted, and moving was causing her pain, but she refused to send herself to the hospital. Not when there were so many of them here already.

  Parker was in surgery, a floor down, being operated on by a colleague of Grace’s. Sometimes they could triage in the medical room in the basement headquarters, but Parker was usually the one performing any emergency care. Grace was already at the hospital, so Evan had brought Parker straight here through a back entrance. “Grace
will make sure he’s patched up.” His faith in his mate was echoed by the whole family.

  Liza checked her cell for the ten millionth time. Nothing from Evan, but Joe was parking and on his way up. Her stomach did a flip flop, and she felt an emotional burn at the back of her throat. God, she couldn’t wait to put her arms around him.

  Misha had been in labor for hours. When Daisy had pushed her, Liza had been so frightened, but the long labor wasn’t because of that. The baby was fine. Misha’s waters broke because of the fall, sending her into premature labor. Apparently, they’d arrived and her labor stopped. Just like that. They induced it again, only for it to stop. Again.

  From what Liza had learned from Lilo, Misha had gone through a few rounds of oxytocin to keep the labor progressing.

  “No update on Parks?” Sloan asked, coming from the hallway that stocked a vending machine. She ripped open a candy bar and shoved it in her mouth.

  Liza shook her head.

  “He’ll be fine,” Sloan said. “He always is.”

  “It will grow back, right?” Max murmured, putting his arm around Sloan.

  Both Liza and Sloan sent him a grim look. The truth was, they didn’t know. Wyatt’s voice box had grown back, and all of Gloria’s notes said they could regenerate. But an entire arm?

  “What did I miss?”

  Liza twirled at Joe’s deep voice, and she ran into his arms like a little girl, only wincing slightly at the residual pain in her hands.

  “Hey,” he murmured and took her into an embrace. “I missed you too.”

  He kissed her hair softly, and Liza melted into him.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered and buried her face into his chest. She inhaled his masculine, sweaty smell. It was heaven, and she couldn’t wait to fall asleep next to him tonight. And every night.

  He grinned down at her.

  “Did everything go fine?” She asked.

  “As expected. Oh, I just remembered.” He patted his suit pocket and brought a tall, thin box out. “I got you a gift.”