Rush (Phoenix Rising) (17 page)

Gorin stared back at him, looking like the classic mad scientist with his long white tattered lab jacket, mussed hair, thick-lensed glasses and crazed eyes pinned on Gil.

He set his fork down, put his napkin on the table and offered a controlled, polite, “I’ll be right back, gentlemen.”

Pushing his chair back, he took Gorin’s arm and walked him toward the exit, meeting every gaze that turned his way with a smile and an apologies-for-the-circus-sideshow nod.

“You told me you’d find him.” Gorin spoke quickly as they moved. “You don’t understand how difficult it will be for him to cope in the real world. I don’t have him programmed for that. You promised me there was no way for him to escape. You said I didn’t need to worry. You didn’t want me to take the time to code him to go out there, do his job and come back under
normal conscious conditions
. Now he’s out there alone—”

“Wait until we’re outside,” Gil said through a smile of clenched teeth.

“But, but, anything could happen. He could snap and go insane. He could turn into a mass murderer. He could come searching for us. He could remember everything we’ve trained him to do. All he’s already done on missions.
Everything,
Gil.”

Gil pushed the outer door to the restaurant open and then Gorin through it. Finally, fresh air and privacy. After one quick glance around uncovered no immediate witnesses, Gil fisted the front of Gorin’s button-down shirt and slammed him against the nearest wall. “Shut. Up. Max.”

The shocked look on Gorin’s pale face and the blessed silence gave Gil a moment to collect his temper. “There,” he said on a deep breath. “Better.”

Gorin jerked out of Gil’s grasp and leaned in. “I need him back. He was in the middle of two important missions. Major Abernathy and General Cochrane are calling me every hour because you’re not answering your phone.”

Great, it was only a matter of time until Cochrane was jumping down Gil’s throat, too.

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m doing all I can. I’ve got Owen Young running things and an asset on Q’s tail. What more do you want, Max? Magic tricks? My future depends on him, too. And I want that fucking formula from O’Shay. I notice you haven’t mentioned that. All you care about is your little protégé.” He pushed Gorin back again, more to get the man out of his face than to intimidate. “You’d better remember that it’s O’Shay’s formula that’s going to finance all the games you like to play with Q, especially if his escape costs Millennium those weapons contracts.

“In fact, this is a good time for you to refocus on Millennium, Max. You know, the company that lets you play with your science, something no other company would allow.” Schaeffer put a rigid finger against Max’s bony chest and poked hard. “The company that’s been backing you on your badass plan of cloning the invincible soldier.”

“And I will, Gil. I will. Q was coming along so nicely. You know he will be the prototype for a whole new army of the future—”

“Not if we don’t
get him back
. And I can’t strategize plans with the people searching for Q if I’m getting calls from you every hour of the damn day.” Gil sucked air into his lungs. “I’ll handle my end of the business, Max. You stay out of it.”

 

Q fisted his hands as he followed Cash down the cement block hallway with a cement slab floor. While those were the only similarities to the Castle, they were enough to give Q that sick feeling of walking the Castle’s yard toward Gorin’s lab.

He tried to focus on the amazing scent of food. His stomach was doing a great job there, rolling and growling like a monster. There were so many new smells, they overlapped and mixed. Strawberry was the scent that dominated, but he detected other fruits, too—pineapple, orange, melon, kiwi, mango. Though he had no idea how he knew how to identify those smells. And beyond fruit, other foods delivered olfactory messages, too. Bread, spices, meat . . .

While his salivary glands were operating on high, his mind cataloging foods he craved, it was also untangling the multiple voices carrying on several different conversations. Voices of people who’d apparently risked their lives to rescue him. Voices of people who thought they knew him. Voices of people he had absolutely no recollection of and wasn’t sure he wanted to get to know now.

Cash turned a corner and disappeared into another room. Q’s feet came to a stop. The scents and sounds faded into the background and fear jumped forward. His hands tensed and flexed. His teeth gnashed. Sweat broke out across his forehead. Across his shoulders. A buzz grew in his ears.

“Q?”

Q looked at Cash, who’d returned to stand in the middle of the hallway, waiting for him, but couldn’t speak. What was he going to say?
I’m having a panic attack because I’m free and I don’t know how to be free? There are people that exist who love me and I don’t know how to be loved?

The simple change in Cash’s expression from confusion to compassion told Q he understood . . . which was bizarre in itself, because he’d just seen Cash for the first time twenty minutes ago and now he could read the other man’s expressions.

Q dropped his face into his hands and rubbed hard.

“Hey.” Cash’s voice was low, gentle. He put a hand on Q’s shoulder and squeezed.

There had been a guard who’d done that once in a while. One who used to sneak Q extra food and bring him old Clive Cussler novels. Q pictured the guard’s dark face, his broad smile.

“Q?”

He lifted his head. “Did Dooley die in the explosion? Chet Dooley, the guard? He had a family. A wife and three daughters.”

“I . . . don’t know. But I’ll do what I can to find out, okay?”

Q took a deep breath and let it out. Nodded. Glanced toward the end of the hall. Looked at Cash.

“I know,” Cash said. “Take your time. Just know these are the good people. They would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe.”

Q just couldn’t grasp the existence of that kind of loyalty, especially toward him. And the noise from the next room was already rubbing his nerves raw. Talking, laughing, things banging, doors opening and closing.

Eventually, his curiosity over these mysterious people from his past surpassed his fears and he followed Cash.

The size of the room registered first. Enormous with high ceilings. Then Q catalogued the doors. Windows. Layout. Furnishings. Then the fact that Jessica wasn’t there.
No one can take me away.

“Where is she?” he whispered to Cash.

“Don’t know. Outside maybe.”

Outside?
He glanced at the glass doors again, restless. Could he go outside?

“Later,” Cash said. “Focus.”

No one had noticed him yet and Q took the opportunity to observe and take a quick head count. Four men and two women, not including him and Cash. Teague and Alyssa sat on one sofa, Luke and Keira on another, the two couples talking. Kai and Mitch stood in a room off to the left where every horizontal surface was covered with food.

Q forced his gaze away from the sight of Kai cutting some type of fruit and onto the middle of the living room floor, where bins of colorful things surrounded two . . .

“Are those . . . ?” Q realized what a ridiculous question he was about to ask. “I mean, I know they’re kids. They’re just so . . . small.”

“Kids generally are.” Cash grinned. “Mateo, come here and meet Quaid.”

Q tensed and stepped back. Everyone in the room turned or looked up and Q felt the pressure of eight new pairs of eyes.

The boy popped to his feet and sprinted across the space, rounded a couch and ran right into Cash’s legs.

From where she still sat on the floor, Kat said, “Hi, Uncle Quaid. Do you like Barbies?” And without waiting for an answer, returned her attention to whatever gadget she held in her hand.

Q’s throat thickened until it became uncomfortable to swallow. The boy bounced at Cash’s feet, reaching up, babbling about winning a video game—whatever the hell that was—distracting Q from the sudden and unfamiliar emotions.

“Mateo,” Cash said, his voice smooth and patient. “English, son, English. My Greek isn’t—”

“He beat the cat at a video game?” Q said, questioning his translation, wondering how a cat could play a game. “They bet . . .” Q tilted his head. “Nail polish? And what are ‘Barbies’?”

Cash started laughing. A deep, rolling, rich laugh, but the rest of the room had gone completely quiet.

“He beat
Kat
at a video game,” Cash said, grinning. “I didn’t know you spoke Greek.”

“I . . .” Another surge of fear pulsed through him. Translating the words had been automatic, as if he thought in multiple languages. “. . . didn’t either.”

Cash’s smile didn’t just fade, it dropped and concern etched lines between his eyes. Then he lifted the boy into his arms and his expression changed again. He looked at his son with so much love, Q experienced a sense of yearning as deep as the longing he’d felt to remember his past. Which made as much sense to Q as the fact that those with knowledge of his past filled the room and all he wanted to do was run.

He looked at the big glass doors, then beyond, as far as the trees allowed. But he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of Jessica.

Cash smiled at Q. “This is my son, Mateo. Mateo this is—”

“Q!” He drew out the sound as if in celebration, throwing his arms overhead. Then he fell forward, would have fallen right out of his father’s arms, but stopped himself with his hands on Q’s shoulders.

The touch launched a fierce sensation of turbulence through Q’s system, and it took a moment for him to realize it was a good feeling. One of energy and happiness and hope.

Mateo lifted his head and smiled up at Q with big, warm brown eyes filled with joy and innocence. “Thank you for my daddy, Q.”

He turned his head, planted a kiss on Q’s shoulder and squirmed out of Cash’s arms and to the ground. “Love you,
baba
.”

He shot off toward the back of the house again, leaving the room silent and Quaid trembling with a sense of blissful possibilities and tormented loss. His time at the Castle was starting to look positively serene in comparison to his first few hours free.

“Bet you’re hungry.” The voice came from the kitchen behind Q. He turned just as Kai set down a knife and picked up a bowl of strawberries piled beyond the rim.

He came around a counter toward Q and the scent that came with him was so strong, so absolutely, deliriously amazing, Q’s head went light. Fresh, ripe, pure strawberry. Saliva filled Q’s mouth. His stomach rolled with hunger. Craving tugged deep inside him.

Kai plucked one huge, perfect strawberry from the bowl and popped it in his mouth. The damn thing was so big it barely fit, filling one cheek as he chewed, and he was already dipping into the bowl for another. “These are amazing, even out of season.” He held the bowl out to Q. “They used to be your favorite.”

Q tore his gaze from the bowl. “They were?”

“We used to have to hide them from you if we wanted any.” Kai pushed another into his mouth. “You’d eat an entire half-flat in one sitting. Try ’em.”

Q took the bowl and found himself frozen. The scent was overpowering. As was the fear.

He glanced at Cash, who nodded. So he pushed the fear aside and met Kai’s gaze. “I know why you wanted to kick my ass, but why to Iceland?”

Surprise flashed in Kai’s eyes before he grinned. “It was the furthest, coldest place I could think of.”

“Actually, Antarctica is the coldest place on earth and Turkmenistan is the furthest place from—”

“Shut up, man.” Kai laughed and shook his head. “You always had a smart mouth. Hell, I know I shouldn’t, I know you’re totally freaked out, but . . . I’m so happy to see you . . . what the hell, I don’t even care if you try to choke me. . . .”

And before Q could think to react, Kai pulled him into a tight hug. A sudden, sharp sense of claustrophobia closed in. He was about to break away from Kai when Cash patted his back and took the bowl of strawberries from his flailing hand.

“Shit, man,” Kai rasped, still holding Q bound, which somehow felt . . . both frightening and awkward. “I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my whole life.”

Q didn’t know if it was the words or the emotion behind the words, but something reached into his gut and yanked hard. Then something else swept in. Overwhelming affection. Crushing gratitude. An awesome sense of brotherhood.

He didn’t even know what the hell
brotherhood
was. And he wasn’t sure if the emotions were coming from Kai or from inside himself. But it didn’t matter. They were short-circuiting Q’s overtaxed psyche.

He pushed at Kai’s chest.

“Sorry, dude.” Kai immediately stepped back, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, the other hand on Q’s shoulder, his expression both relieved and pained. “Welcome back.”

Q’s chest ached. Part of him wanted to hug the man back, which was just . . . too weird. Part of him was crawling out of his skin to dive through the nearest plate-glass window in escape.

Kai turned and walked back to the sink, where he started working with the fruit again, sniffling and wiping at his face.

Cash held the strawberries out to Q, a warm smile on his face. “You okay?”

“I don’t know what I am.”

He took the strawberries back, and stared down at the plump, ruby-red fruit. He wanted to do a face plant into the bowl and devour the fragrant jewels, but still couldn’t bring himself to take even one. He’d conditioned himself not to show any level of desire for anything. Especially not anything he really wanted. As soon as Gorin identified something Q desired, he used it as a reward, a punishment, a bribe, a threat . . . anything to get Q to perform to the scientist’s standards.