Jordan Summers - [Dead World 01] (33 page)

Her
jaw clenched. "Yes, she did.
I'm
not going to
be
responsible for your death, too."

Something warmed in his
expression and Red realized
she'd just
admitted she cared. Well, it didn't matter.
  Morgan
knowing her true feelings didn't change anything
between them. She was a highly trained tactical
team member. Her attacker had gotten lucky the
first
time. He wouldn't get a second chance.

Morgan advanced on her. "Gina, I don't want to
argue. I know this area far better than you do.
No one
can hide in my territory for long without me finding them."

Red's lip quivered. She wished more than any
thing that were true, but Morgan wasn't looking
for a
stranger. He wouldn't expect it to be anyone close. If she was
right, the news would break his heart. Red
swallowed
past the sudden lump in her throat.
Emo
tions sucked.

"Let me handle this, Morgan."

"Gina, please listen to reason. I've been on the
job a long time and have had to do a lot of distasteful things over the years
to keep Nuria and my people safe. I won't let whoever did this get away with
it. Jesse meant a lot to me. I lake her death personally. There is more at
stake here than you realize. I swear, I will find him."

She shook her head and retreated farther away,
holding out her hands to keep him back. "Not
if I find
him first."

chapter
nineteen

"I
gave you a chance and you blew it," Roark said.
"You were supposed to kill her."

"I never agreed to that. In
fact, I told you specifically
that I had other plans for Gina.
That hasn't changed,
only been delayed."

"I don't care what you had planned. I gave you a
direct
order and you ignored me. I won't put up with this
kind of
insubordination."

A growl rumbled over the connection, hurting his
eardrum.
"I thought I explained what you could do with
your orders.
Obviously, I need to go over it
again."

Roark bristled at the undisguised threat. "Don't
you
growl at me. I am done playing with
you. Do you hear?
Done. Her death is the only way
to hit the tactical
team where it hurts. You know that as well as I do.
Don't you want them brought in?"

"You know I do, but there are other ways to do it
that
don't
involve killing her."

"I thought you wanted to obtain leadership among
your
people?"
Roark sat back, surprised at the man's resolve.
What was it about this woman
that made her so special? She was attractive, but not overly so, Maybe they'd
had sex as he'd first suspected. Roark was repulsed by the thought.

"It won't take killing her to obtain power. All I
need to do is remove the alpha. She'll become mine by proxy."

"I don't care about your
little internal power strug
gles. I don't
care if she's the best lay to come down the pike in a century. I'm not about to
blow this election because you've developed a conscience about this particular
piece of ass. Understand?"

"She isn't just
any
woman."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Roark
asked, frustration riding him hard. "I've read the file. She's
nothing other than the perfect victim from what I
can
see."

He snorted. "You are only
human. You wouldn't
understand."

"You're probably right. I don't speak
animal," he snapped, letting his temper get the better of him.

"Watch yourself, Roark. You forget your
place."

Roark scowled. "It's you who've forgotten
your
place. You seem to have forgotten
everything and that
includes all of
our plans for the future. I really thought
we understood each
other."

"Oh, I have no doubt that
we do," he rumbled. "I'll say it again. Slow enough for even you to
understand.
I will not kill Gina
Santiago. She's mine. Do not interfere."

Roark laughed, the maniacal sound tearing from deep in
his gut. "No can do. I'm sending someone in to take care of the job.
Someone who doesn't have a problem following orders."

He
rocked back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his
face.
Roark wished he could see his expression at the
news, but he supposed he'd have to settle for
imagining
it.

"What have you done?" There was an edge of
panic
in
his voice that Roark had never heard before. This
woman had definitely shaken the
beast up.

"I warned you before and I don't make a habit of
repeating
myself. My man will be there by tonight."

"I
wouldn't
do that if I were you," he
said. "You are
making a colossal mistake."

Roark tapped his desk with his fingertips. "Then
I guess
it's a good thing you're not me." He hit the button to disconnect
and glanced out his office window at
the clear blue sky.

It was always a risk sending Mike Travers in for
cleanup
duty, not that the man hadn't done it dozens of
times
before.
Still, there was always a chance that he
could get caught. It was remote of course, but there,
lingering in
the back of his mind.

If for some reason that happened, Roark would
have
to deny all knowledge, but the taint would remain
as
it
did for the human supporters of equal
rights for Others.
Those people were outcasts now, having to
scrounge
to survive.

Roark refused to be put in that position, but he would
if Travers got caught. People wouldn't forget.
Voters
wouldn't
forget. He needed to ensure that Mike didn't get caught. And if he did, that he
didn't get a
chance
to talk.

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out
synth-alcohol,
tipping the contents down his
parched throat. It burned like liquid fire and caused his eyes to
water. It wasn't as good as the real stuff, but few
bottles of that remained and only in the hands of serious collectors.

Roark took a deep breath and exhaled, rolling his neck
to ease the tension building there. His bonus cracked like toppled dominos.
When he'd finished,
he hit the page button
to summon Travers.

Mike entered a short time later, carrying a wad of
synth-papers. "You called me. sir."

"Yes," Roark said, shoving the empty alcohol
container into the recycling bin. "I have a job for you to do."

Mike stilled and didn't say anything.

"I need you to go to Nuria."

"Does this have something to do with Gina
Santiago?" Mike asked, fingers trembling.

"Yes."

"What would you like me to do?" Resolve
filled his voice along with what sounded like weary acceptance.

"I want you to do what you
do best," Roark stated, glancing out the window again at the glorious day.
"I
expect a call when it's
done."

"Yes, sir."

Mike slipped from the room, his thoughts in turmoil.
How was he supposed to kill the
missing link?
How
could he not? Roark would send someone else to do the job if he refused. He'd
also dispose of him
at
his
earliest convenience. Mike shivered, suddenly
cold
in the sweltering heat.

He didn't fear death. Over the years Mike had come
to know the
reaper fairly well. No, he feared the
 method. Not all killers cared
about the means used
to take out their
prey. Mike prided himself on giving
the target a
quick death. But then, he wasn't sadistic.

There'd only been one exception, and that had been
for the man
who'd annihilated his family. It had taken
extra planning to
draw out his death in the most painful
manner
imaginable.

Mike had sent his energy inside the man and allowed
it to expand until all his orifices bled. This continued
for days in the
desert until the madness of not
knowing when the end would come
overtook the
man and he ran himself into
the boundary fence.

Mike could still hear the sizzle as the man's skin hit
the fence. The
smell of burnt flesh wafted in the air
on a plume of charcoal-gray smoke. It was one of the
happiest moments of his life ... until afterward. Mike had realized that his
tormentor's death didn't bring his family back or ease the survivor's guilt he
lived with daily.

He didn't look forward to killing
Gina Santiago. He
didn't
look forward to killing, period. But like most
things in life, he had little choice. He'd return to his home and pack
a few items needed for his trip to
Nuria.
He'd make sure her death was swift and maybe while he was there Mike would find
Roark's connec
tion and take care of him, too...just in case he proved
to be his replacement.

Mike Travers arrived in Nuria at sunset.
He parked on the outskirts of town, hiding his
vehicle among rubble, taking only the equipment he would need
for
the
job. He'd have to hurry once he was finished.
People
in small towns noticed strangers. He wouldn't
be able to slip out undetected.

He made his way through the desert, keeping an eye
peeled on the road. Mike didn't want anyone
driving
by and finding his car. At least not yet. It took
thirty minutes to
reach the fringe of the town. The buildings here were vacant, their windows
covered with synth-wood to deter trespassers.

He broke the window in what
looked to be an old
auto sales lot
office. From the dust and cobwebs, it was apparent no one had been there for a
long, long
time. Mike pulled out a rag from
his bag and began to
wipe the place
down. He may be here for a while un
til he located Gina and he'd rather
not spend it
in
filth.

Filth reminded him too much of
the cell he'd spent
ten years in. For a
second, he couldn't seem to
breathe and
panic savaged him. The cage they'd kept
him
in was cramped like this place, but without the
windows.

He'd been so naive to volunteer for the experiments.
At the time, men and women like him were touted as heroes. Patriotic soldiers,
who were their country's last defense. He'd believed in what the effort stood
for. Trusted the men who'd told him that he'd still be the same man. when the
treatments were over. In the end, Mike allowed the scientists to change him.

In return for his sacrifice, they'd turned him into
something that nightmares couldn't even recognize.

They manipulated his DNA until food no longer
replenished
him and blood was the only thing that kept
him
alive.
They'd tweaked his brain until he could
project his thoughts and move larger objects with
his
mind. He rarely slept more than a few hours a
week.
He'd been told these changes were a tempo
rary
side effect
—much like the halt in his
aging.

And
still he'd believed them. .. right up to the point
when they
locked him up and made plans to exterminate
him.

In
those
bleak days, Mike had imagined what
the outside
world looked like. The dreams had kept him sane, when
his life had become an endless series of test
and torture. And they'd
continued until the lab's ultimate
destruction.

No one knew exactly how the explosion happened. Many
thought
sabotage. In the end, Mike didn't care. All that mattered was escape. It was
only later that he'd
discovered that what the scientists running the lab
had done to him
was permanent.

The telekinesis he'd been born with had been modified,
strengthened. It was a gift that proved invaluable over
the years, while the need for blood turned out to be
a curse. He
could walk in the sun unlike some of the
scientists' other experiments, who had blown up on
contact with
ultraviolet rays, but the thirst never went
away.