Rush (Phoenix Rising) (28 page)

“What does that mean?” Q whispered to Jessica.

“He’s winging it,” she whispered back. “Making it up.”

Q clenched his teeth.

“When investigators uncover the connection between your seat on the AFC,” Mitch continued, “and the developments of Millennium followed by the million-dollar military contracts? Well, Gil, even the government can add one plus one plus one. Biiiiig no-no, Gil. And there are huge penalties for employing insider information to win government contracts. You won’t just get your hand slapped. You won’t just lose your senate position or your seat on the AFC. Millennium will be fined. The current contracts it’s fulfilling will be retracted. Those involved will get prison sentences. The corporation will be pulled from the list of approved government contractors. Then, Millennium will be torn apart by a government investigation so deep and so long, neither you nor your business will ever recover.”

Mitch paused just long enough to let a heavy silence fall, but not so long Schaeffer could develop a comeback.

“And let me ask you about your freedom, Gil,” he drove on. “Do you care about that? Because talking to the partner of your military manufacturing company when you’re consulting to the country’s highest military committee and having said company come out with just the right solution to the military’s latest problem, putting millions in that company’s pocket? That, sir, is called . . . espionage.”

A deep laugh rolled over the line. “Espionage,” Schaeffer said as if the idea were both humorous and ludicrous. “I knew you were out of your mind, Foster. You just said I was solving the military’s latest problems. That is the
opposite
of espionage.”

Mitch pulled in a breath and opened his mouth to reply, but words jumped out of Q’s mouth first.

“Not when you sell your inventions to other countries.” Everyone’s gaze jerked toward Q. He ignored them, sidestepped Jessica and stalked toward the phone with so much insolent rage, he would have crawled through the cell connection and strangled Schaeffer until his eyes bulged if he’d been able. “Like the smart grenades you sold to the Hellenic Armed Forces in Greece? Or the antiaircraft laser to the Korean People’s Army? Or the EyeBeam to the Free Syrian Army—”

“Who the fuck is this?” Schaeffer bellowed, his voice bouncing off the walls of the bunker.

Q was near the phone now where Mitch had set it on a table. He put his palms flat on either side of the phone and leaned close, speaking with a low, deliberately menacing voice when he said, “Quaid Legend,
Gil.
The man who gathered all the intelligence for every fucking weapon you created at Millennium and then sold overseas. Remember the name, Gil, because Foster is right.” He lowered his voice to a rabid growl. “I’m going to haunt you to your grave.”

“Don’t bet on it, Legend.” Schaeffer tried to maintain his superiority, but uncertainty wobbled in his voice. “You’ll look like an asylum escapee as soon as my lawyer gets you on the stand.”

Q laughed. True humor hit him at the center of his chest. “Bring it on, Gil. I’ll make sure to shave my head for court that day so they can see every scar on my scalp from your experiments. I can’t wait to tell people what a sick fuck you are.”

“He’s going to make an amazing witness,” Mitch said to Q’s right, where he stood, arms crossed over his chest. “Intelligent, well spoken, articulate. A jury will find Quaid highly sympathetic. And you know how the American people love to root for the underdog, Gil. I wouldn’t want to be you when they hear the whole illegal imprisonment, heinous experimental testing story.”

Mitch rolled back on his heels and chuckled then sighed. But when he spoke, his voice wasn’t light, as his behavior implied. It was far closer to the dark tone Q had just used. “When I get done with you, Schaeffer, you will look like a rabid hyena. I will have the American people lighting your mansion up with Molotov cocktails and dragging you out to a hangman’s noose.”

Mitch paused, took a breath, and lightened his voice. “Now, back to my original reason for calling—our live and let live offer. Bet it sounds more appealing now. I’ll even do you one better. I’ll return your assassin, safe and, well, relatively sound. Where can we drop old Reggie off for you?”

Silence. Mitch stared at the phone. Waited.

Q straightened and cast a nervous glance at Mitch who met Q’s gaze with steady confidence.

“Well,” Schaeffer finally said, drawing out the word, heavy with resignation. “This is a problem I’d hoped we’d avoid.”

A spark of hope ignited in Q’s chest. He glanced at Jessica whose eyes had widened with surprise. Q imagined lots of time, no deadlines, no pressure. Just time to get to know Jessica. To learn everything he’d forgotten about this beautiful, generous woman. Nothing had ever sounded so amazingly blissful.

“Don’t you worry about doing anything with Reggie, Foster.” The icy edge in Schaeffer’s voice cut into Q’s fantasies and his attention shot back to the phone, then to Mitch. “I can take care of him from here.”

Mitch frowned. Opened his mouth to speak. But Reggie jerked upright, the cuffs clanging against the metal bed frame. All attention turned to the prisoner, whose eyes were unnaturally wide and filled with panic. His mouth opened wide as if about to scream, but no sound emerged.

Reggie brought his free hand to his throat. Alyssa immediately stood and started toward him. Teague grabbed her back. They argued.

“What in the fuck . . . ?” Kai said, rushing toward him.

Reggie dropped back on the mattress and went into jagged convulsions, thrashing and grunting.

Kai grabbed Reggie’s arms. “Get me something to hold his tongue down,” he said to Cash. “It’s blocking his air.”

Cash turned and clawed through the storage shelves. Teague approached the foot of the bed and tried to grab the man’s legs.

Q watched the activity in confusion. “What are they doing?”

“He’s seizing,” Jessica said, her hand so tight on his it stung. “They’re going to clear his airway.”

The prisoner jerked loose of Kai’s grip and his uncuffed arm swung up, barely missing his head.

“Damn it.” Kai clapped both hands on the man’s head. “He’s fucking strong.”

Teague climbed on the bed and sat on the guy’s legs, limiting his kicking.

Cash came back with a wooden mixing spoon. “It’s all I could find.”

“Great,” Kai muttered, but grabbed the spoon.

He gripped the man’s jaw and pried it open from the outside with pressure at the hinges. He squinted into the man’s mouth, the thin end of the spoon’s handle held ready to flatten the man’s tongue.

Anger welled in Q’s chest. “Why are they helping him?”

“What?” Jessica’s gaze jumped to his. “He’ll hurt himself if we just let him seize. He could die.”

“Let him die.” Q stalked toward the bed. “Don’t save the bastard. He’d kill us all given the chance. Get off him. Just let him die.”

“Take it easy, Quaid.” Cash got that worried warning look in his eye.

“Move back, Quaid.” Jessica took his arm, her voice serious. “Let them work.”

Kai finally pried Reggie’s mouth open wide enough to insert the spoon’s handle, but pulled back with a soft, “Holy shit.” Then, “Everyone, get back.”

Cash shot Kai a confused look just as Reggie coughed. Kai turned his face and raised his arm just before blood sprayed from the man’s mouth.

“Fuck.” Teague jumped off the man’s legs and yanked at Cash’s arm, pulling him back. “What the hell is this?”

Reggie continued to buck and jerk and cough blood. It splattered the cement wall, the floor, his clothes. With one last spasm, he went limp, eyes open and blank, blood still spilling from his mouth.

Jessica turned her back and put her hand over her mouth. Q didn’t console her. This was exactly what the fucker deserved. Q had seen the carnage this kind of killer left behind....

He dragged his mind back from that fork in the road. It would lead him nowhere. He’d followed too many detours to expect this one to lead him to any more information than the others. They always dead-ended in frustration.

By the time Kai laid his fingers on Reggie’s neck, blood was leaking from the prisoner’s ears and nose.

Kai pulled his hand away and shook his head at Mitch, who pushed more buttons on his phone.

Jessica made a sound in her throat and Q found she’d glanced over her shoulder. Now, she turned into Q, wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his chest. Q’s entire focus changed. He enclosed her in his arms, held her tight and stroked her hair. The anger inside him ebbed. And he found it difficult to hold onto his hate when she filled him with so much love.

“Quiet down,” Mitch said. “I have Schaeffer on mute. He doesn’t need to know how rattled we are.” Mitch took a few deep breaths, clawed a hand through his hair, then cleared his throat and pressed a button on his phone. “I knew you were a sick fuck, Schaeffer. The prison psychologists will enjoy picking your brain apart.”

“All our subjects are injected with a high-tech material when they come to us,” Schaeffer said. “It allows for remote control of those we send into the field. Reggie had obviously become a liability.”

An ice-cold fist slammed into the center of Q’s chest. His gaze darted to Cash’s at the same time Cash’s met his. And Cash wore the same look of shock Q felt on his own face. Q’s breath wheezed out of his lungs. Terror tightened every muscle.

“I was really hoping to avoid this since we have so much invested in Q and Cash,” Schaeffer said. “But I can see you’ll make it a fight to the bitter end.”

“Now hold on, Schaeffer—” Mitch started.

Something popped inside Q. Multiple snaps of pain burst all along his ribs and deep in his belly, knives stabbing his guts. He grunted and doubled over. Jessica reached for him.

“Quaid?” Her voice rose with panic. “Quaid!”

He couldn’t breathe. Something hot leaked through his insides and seared like acid. Her face swam in his vision and he let go of her to grip his belly. His legs weakened. He stumbled backwards and hit the cement wall.

“Shit, Cash!”

Q heard Kai’s voice, but his vision had gone dark.

“Teague,” Jessica called, and the man was there in an instant, his hands patting Q down like a cop.

“Where do you hurt most?” he asked.

“St—st—” He couldn’t draw air. His throat was on fire.

“Stomach?” Teague asked.

Q managed a nod and Teague’s hands moved there. Q’s legs went out and he slumped to the cement. Heat swallowed him. He couldn’t tell if it was coming from Teague or if it was the burn in his stomach. But within seconds, the sear eased and Q draw a deep breath into his lungs.

As his vision returned, his first sight was Cash curled into a ball on the floor.

Q pushed Teague’s hands away. “Cash. Help Cash.”

Teague swiveled and moved to Cash.

“I’ve set these at a slower release rate,” Schaeffer said. “That will give you time to consider a change of heart. If you do, I can administer a neutralizer for the compound now slowly killing them.”

“You motherfucking—” Q started.

“Legend,” Schaeffer said, “if you bring me the formula Cash created at the Castle within twenty-four hours I’ll give both you and Cash the neutralizer. If not, well, American troops will be the ones who suffer, and I’ll have two less witnesses to worry about, won’t I?”

“Schaeffer—” Mitch started.

“Oh, and don’t think about holding back anything or messing with the formula,” Schaeffer said, “because if I discover you did, I’ll simply reactivate the compound and let both of you die—just like Reggie. Only slower. Much slower.”

J
essica sat on the edge of a chair in a bedroom in the main bunker, hands between her knees, heart in her throat. Quaid paced as they waited for Alyssa.

“Baby,” Jessica tried again. “You should sit down. You need to conserve your energy.” She also hated the thought of him aiding the spread of whatever Schaeffer had released into his body, but she didn’t think he needed to hear those stark words right now.

Quaid stopped and put a hand against the wall, the other against his forehead, wiping at the sweat. He was running a fever. He was pale. He occasionally suffered tremors. But he was faring far better than Cash, which the team attributed to Quaid’s advanced healing abilities.

“Can I”—Jessica swallowed, feeling helpless and terrified—“do anything for you?”

Quaid didn’t answer. He seemed to be in another world. She couldn’t blame him. Hell, she swore she’d been caught in some bizarre low-budget sci-fi film and she wasn’t the one injected with a lethal material who had an unknown amount of time left to live.

“Sorry.” Alyssa swept into the room and closed the door behind her. “I had to fight Mitch for a legal pad.” She took a chair beside Jessica. “Why does everyone think he’s charming? On what planet?”

Jessica huffed a laugh at the unexpected humor.

Alyssa looked at Quaid, who still stood with his back toward them. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to this, Quaid?”

He didn’t answer right away. He swiped at his forehead again and wiped his palm on his jeans, then pushed off the wall and turned. His eyes clouded over. He thrust one hand out in front of him and swayed. Jessica jumped up and crossed the room before he fell off balance.

He leaned on her without arguing. “Let’s do this before I can’t.”

She eased him onto the bed and sat beside him. Because Quaid had his forearm flung over his eyes, Alyssa divided her attention between him and Jessica as she outlined the hypnosis process.

“You’ll be in control of yourself at all times. I will never be able to direct you or force you to do anything.”

He peeked out from beneath his arm with a look that said:
And elephants fly
.

Alyssa sighed. “This is a very . . . sensitive . . . process. Many clients prefer not to have anyone in the room with—”

“No.” Quaid grabbed Jessica’s forearm. She startled, jerking back from his hold. Their eyes met and she knew he saw it—her fear. Hurt flashed in his eyes. Then sadness. “I want her with me,” he said softly. “Stay? Please?”

Her heart melted. Damn it, this rollercoaster was making her nauseous. She looked at Alyssa, who shrugged. Jessica covered Quaid’s hand with hers and squeezed. “Of course, I’ll stay.”

Alyssa led Quaid through a relaxation process first, then deeper into a hypnotic state. The grip of his hand had become so light, his breathing so even and deep, Jessica was sure he’d fallen asleep.

“Q.” Alyssa’s voice was smooth and soft. Utterly tranquil. Her switch to calling Quaid “Q” threw Jessica for a second, but it made sense to use the only name he’d known at the time he was remembering. “Go back to the last time you saw Gorin. Take your time. Nod when you’re there.”

A moment passed while Jessica just studied Quaid’s handsome face. The strong bone structure. Full lips. The angle of his jaw. How could she have ever thought this man wasn’t her husband? Amazing what the mind could do to block pain. Maybe, in time, after all this was over and the threat was gone, his mind would shift as hers had. Maybe, in time, he’d remember . . .

Something hitched in her chest. A sense of loss. Which was stupid. Of course, she wanted him to remember all they’d had. All they’d been. How deeply they’d loved each other. But she didn’t want to lose what they’d newly discovered—a deeper, truer connection. A unique bond transcending time and memory. A raw, real, intensely satisfying sexual expression together.

His head bobbed slowly.

“Okay, good,” Alyssa said in that smooth tone. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“Lab.” His voice was languid, as if he were sleep-talking. “At the Castle.”

“And what does he have you do there?”

Quaid licked his lips. “Mmm, guard straps me into the chair. Gorin shoots me up. I . . . I . . . Then I don’t know.”

“Gorin shoots you up with what?” Alyssa asked.

“Don’t know. Makes me pass out.”

Jessica’s stomach sloshed as if she’d just stepped off that rollercoaster ride. She closed her eyes, trying like hell not to imagine Quaid’s life like that day in and day out for five long years.

“Can you rest in that place for a moment, Q,” Alyssa asked, “where you pass out? Then let yourself wake there. Remember, you’re safe. You can come out at any time. You are not strapped to that chair now.”

Jessica raised her head and opened wet eyes.

Quaid nodded.

“And when you’re ready, tell me what you see.”

Quaid’s hand immediately tightened on Jessica’s. His breathing quickened. Jessica frowned at Alyssa, who put up a hand and mouthed
he’s okay
.

“Q.” Alyssa’s voice slid into the space like an easy ocean wave. “Where are you? What do you see?”

“Shh.” Quaid pushed the sound through his teeth in a sharp, demanding rasp. He held up his free hand. His face tightened in disapproval. “If you blow our cover, I’ll blow your head off.”

His continued expression of violence set Jessica on edge and clouded her hopes for his recovery.

“No one can hear me but you, Q,” Alyssa insisted. “You’re in no danger. I need to know where you are and what you’re doing.”

“This is a classified mission. No one—”

“I have clearance.” Alyssa’s voice strengthened while remaining nonthreatening. “From the highest level of the Pentagon and General George Ascott. He wants details on the op’s progress and he wants them now.”

Jessica looked at Alyssa and mouthed
who
? Alyssa shrugged. Jessica rolled her eyes and hid them behind her hand.

But Quaid’s grip eased and he muttered, “Fucking brass.” Then in a raspy rushed whisper said, “We’ve located the weapons factory and detained the Pakistanis running it. They have information on the raw material suppliers and technical designers, but they’re not talking. We’re waiting to rendezvous with Major Abernathy to turn over the weapons and prisoners.”

Alyssa and Jessica stared at Quaid, absorbing the implications.

“Copy?” Quaid snapped in that rough whisper.

“Yes,” Alyssa said, startled. “I mean, copy.” She stared down at her legal pad, which remained blank, then asked, “Q, are you performing this operation remotely?”

“How in the hell would we do that?” The bite behind his words said that was the stupidest question he’d heard in months.

“So . . . you’re at the site. You’re . . . in Pakistan. On the ground. Physically.”

A hesitation. “With all due respect, ma’am, you don’t sound smart enough to be reporting to the Pentagon.”

“Forgive me,” she said dryly. “I’m new to this assignment. How did you get to Pakistan, Q?”

“The troops were already here. My partner and I teleport.”

Alyssa’s mouth opened and her eyes went wide at the same moment as Jessica’s did. When Alyssa looked at Jessica, Jessica mouthed
oh, my God.
She pulled the pad from Alyssa, grabbed the pencil and started writing, all without ever letting go of Quaid’s hand. She gave the pad back to Alyssa with her chest so tight she found it hard to breathe.

“Who’s your partner?” Alyssa asked.

“Trent Dare.”

Alyssa shot another look at Jessica. She shook her head and shrugged.

“Who is Trent Dare, Q?”

“Uh . . . my partner?” he said with that condescending
duh
tone. “I’ve got shit to do. Are we done here?”

“No.” A funny little smile turned Alyssa’s mouth. “Check the attitude. I’ll tell you when we’re done.”

Quaid sighed, and wiped his hand down his face.

Alyssa read Jessica’s note, then asked Quaid, “I just want to clarify, Q, are you sure you’re physically there? Not just there in mind?”

“I’m here in both.”

“But remote viewing is done from a distance.”

“I only view remotely while collecting intel.” His tone indicated he was losing patience. “I have to travel to the site to execute the op. Why isn’t Gorin answering these questions?”

Alyssa made an oh-shit face. “Gorin has . . . developed the flu. He’s been puking for two days and isn’t well enough to talk to us.”

“Stupid motherfucker,” Quaid muttered. “So obsessed he never sleeps. Knew it would catch up with him someday.”

Jessica’s stomach muscles ached from clenching. This horrible intimate glimpse into Quaid’s life as Q turned her inside out.

“This information is very important to your superiors, Q,” Alyssa said. “What you do is very special, very unusual. They won’t understand unless it’s all explained. There is a committee meeting later today where they’re discussing your operations. Can you explain how you travel?”

“I swear to God,” he rasped, voice still low as if he were hiding, “if you people stopped holding
meetings
and got off your asses, important things could happen. Explain to them that consciousness is the basis of all being. Matter is all possibility, allowing us to choose our own reality. I choose—in my reality—to travel as electrons do, by moving to parallel orbits without passing through interpreting space. Everything in the universe is simply a matter of choice.”

“What in the hell . . . ?” Jessica whispered.

Alyssa’s head turned sharply and she put a shushing finger to her lips. She grabbed the pad from Jessica and scribbled:
quantum physics
.

Jessica remembered the same headache-inducing phrase coming from Cash and rubbed her temple.

“And where else have you traveled for these ops, Q?” Alyssa asked.

He hesitated. “The Pentagon should have all this information.”

“Q,” Alyssa said, growing stern again, “this is information you will remember when you wake. This is information you need to bring back with you. To do that, you must recall it all now and have it fresh in your mind. Do you understand?”

Another hesitation. Then, “I understand.”

“Think back. Start with the operation you’re on now. Tell me all the information you have, then move backward in time, to the operation before that and so on.”

 

Quaid had never been so exhausted. He felt like he was melting in the desert sun. His muscles felt like jelly, his bones like rubber as he leaned on Jessica as she helped him to their room.

Jessica eased him to the edge of the bed, then down the rest of the way to rest his head on the pillow. He sank into the softness beneath him with gratitude and relief. His eyelids were so very heavy and as much as he wanted to look at Jessica every moment he had left, he couldn’t keep them open any longer.

He couldn’t die. Not because he was afraid of death. Not because he didn’t want to die. But because he couldn’t leave Jessica again. He knew if he died now, it would break her.

Jessica sat beside him, stroking his head over and over. Her touch brought him heaven, and he relaxed into the mattress and absorbed the tingling comfort.

“You’ve been through so much,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”

She started to rise from the bed. Quaid caught her hand in his grasp, but she didn’t startle. Maybe because now she knew he’d been trained to move fast. Now they both knew. Knew why he spoke so many languages—so he could manipulate people in many different countries. Knew why he hadn’t known about his gift—because they’d drugged him while utilizing it.

“Don’t leave me,” he murmured.

She leaned down and pressed her forehead to his. “Didn’t I already tell you I wouldn’t?”

Yes, she had. Why didn’t he believe her? Because there were still secrets between them. Between him and the group. There were things they weren’t telling him. The same way Gorin kept secrets. Maybe the secrets Jessica and the group held weren’t harmful to Q, but that wasn’t the point. He needed honesty and he couldn’t get it. If he couldn’t trust the people who said they loved him most . . . whom could he trust?

Himself. Alone.

But he didn’t want to be alone anymore. He wanted Jessica with him every moment of every day. He wanted to be part of this bigger team. He wanted to uncover his past, develop a purpose, move forward.

And he couldn’t imagine that future without complete honesty in it. “Jessie—”

“I’m going to check on Cash,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

He was too exhausted to argue. He closed his eyes. “Tell him to stop screwing around.” His words slurred.

“Not going to get any more attention this way. I’ll kick his ass if he doesn’t get better.”

Jessica laughed. A soft, sweet sound.

Before he released her hand, Quaid brought it to his mouth, uncurled her fingers and kissed her palm, drifting into sleep even as he did. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

For loving me.
But the words didn’t pass his lips before he floated into that place between consciousness and sleep.

Scenes from the forgotten half of the last five years stirred his mind—dark nights in sweltering jungles raiding guerilla paramilitary camps for intel and equipment. Long, filthy days scouting the streets of Vietnam for informants. Dark Greek nights lit up by flash fire and filled with tear gas during riots.

So many scenes played out in little clips. Clips pieced together to create a movie of shadows, deceit, surveillance. Secrets, lies and mysteries all leading toward violence, injury and death. Had he directly caused death? The twist in the pit of his stomach hinted that he had.

He saw blood. Heard gunshots. Screams. Pain clawed at him from the inside, like an animal trying to get out.