Scarlet (8 page)

"I understand, Private Meyers. I wouldn't need much of your time. A few days here and there are all. Your job with the tactical team would obviously be your first priority. You know how much I respect the team and what they stand for."

"Yes, sir. I've read about your service record. It's impressive." Catherine squeezed her neck and winced. "But let me make sure I understand your offer. You want
me
to work security for you?"

"Yes, Private. I do."

"No disrespect intended, sir, but why did you pick me? I mean it's not like I'm a senior officer. I've only been on the team for a few months. How did you even hear about me? I haven't exactly made a name for myself at headquarters."

"Don't question the politician," Bannon hissed, shifting the bundle in his arms. "He's going to be our next great leader." 

Roark smiled. "It's okay, Lieutenant. Private Meyers has every right to ask. To answer your question, I think it's best to have an experienced officer along with a new recruit. Shows the people that I can relate to all walks of life, not just the ones influential enough to contribute to my campaign. Not to mention you're one of the few women on the tactical team now that Gina Santiago no longer works for IPTT."

Bannon tensed. Roark noted it, but didn't say anything. He'd obviously hit a nerve. He was convinced more than ever he'd made the right decision when he chose to gas them. Catherine was too smart for her own good and Bannon obviously had some emotional connection to the target. Whether it was positive or negative remained to be seen. Either way it might work out to Roark's advantage later.

"Do you really think you can unite the republics and convince them to allow you to lead?" Catherine asked. "They seem pretty happy as self-governing entities. I've never known anyone who'd willingly give up power. What you're talking about could start a war." She tilted her chin to look him in the eye. The slight movement caused her to rock forward. She quickly stepped back into place.

"Sometimes it takes conflict to bring about change," he said, picturing the new world order. All the republics united under one pureblood banner with him at the top, running the show. "But hopefully it won't come to that. Hopefully the republics will see reason. I can be very convincing, if I do say so myself." And when that failed, he had no problem resorting to violence. Roark leveled his gaze on her. "If I didn't believe I could unite the republics, then you wouldn't be here."

chapter six

Red stared at the compunit screen, unable to focus. Her stomach twisted into angry knots. It didn't help that everyone in town was giving her dirty looks as if she was somehow responsible for Morgan leaving. He had been gone for a week—a week that felt more like an eternity—and she hadn't heard a word from him.

Leaving her in charge had been a mistake. She'd known it when he told her his plans. She didn't know a thing about the day-to-day operations of a town. Give her a tactical team and she knew what to do, but running a town required diplomacy and tact. Hell, everything she lacked. Not to mention it had caused trouble in the sheriff's station.

The animosity was like a living entity, pressing in from all around, waiting to devour her. Red didn't have to look up to confirm her suspicions. She could feel the eyes of the deputies upon her. They were angry that one of them hadn't been appointed to lead. Even Maggie seemed resentful to have been relegated to second in command. It was the same when she walked around town.

No matter where she went, Nurians watched, waiting for her to slip up. It had been like that for a week and wasn't showing signs of stopping. She'd done her best to ease the tension by assuring them that Morgan would return shortly.

They hadn't bought it. The truth was, Red had no idea when he'd return, but it couldn't be soon enough.

Just the thought of Morgan brought fresh pain flooding in. She knew he'd made it to the Santa Fe Cloning Laboratory because they'd sent notice of his application to the sheriff's station. That had started tongues wagging and they hadn't stopped since.

Someone cleared his throat.

Red glanced at the interviewee, startled that she'd forgotten all about him, and wishing she was anywhere else but here working. His soft brown eyes stared back at her with compassion. "I'm sorry. Name?" she asked.

"Juan Sanchez," he said.

He had a kind face and a peaceful demeanor. His black hair was cut short, nearly shaved at the sides, but the hard angles did little to sharpen his sensual features. His light brown skin glowed with vitality.

Just being around him made the tension ease in her shoulders and neck. Red knew that gentleness didn't always denote an unlikely candidate, but it did stack the odds against him. They were looking for warriors, not ambassadors of peace. Juan watched her closely, but she could read nothing in his expression.

"Former occupation?" He smiled.

"Educator."

That fits,
Red thought. 'That's a good occupation. One that would pay far more than tactical work. Why change jobs?"

Juan shrugged. "Education is becoming more and more automated. Pretty soon teachers like me will be obsolete. At least this way I can make a difference in people's lives."

She typed in his answer on the application. "Fair enough," she said. "Birthplace?"

"The Republic of the Floridian Islands."

Red brows rose. "Like Demery Wilson, you're a long way from home, Mr. Sanchez."

"I could say the same about you, Ms. Santiago." His mocha eyes glittered as his smile returned.

Red's gaze narrowed and her attention sharpened. "How did you know my name?"

"I'm psychic," he said. "And you're easy to read. Especially when you're in so much pain. Besides, everyone in here has been staring at you like you're an outsider. I thought it was my presence that had garnered so much attention, but then I realized they weren't looking at me."

She glanced around to see if anyone had overheard his comment. At her notice, the men looked away.

"I'm sorry you're hurting," he said, leaning a little closer. "You're a stronger leader than you realize. And someday, you will be a great one."

Stunned, Red sat back. "You don't know what you're talking about," she snapped. "Now stay out of my head."

"As you wish." Juan inclined his head. "I was only trying to be of assistance."

"Well, stop it. No one asked for your help." She masked her fear with anger.

He remained blissfully unruffled by her outburst. "I doubt very much you would ask for help. Even if you needed it."

Red opened her mouth to refute his words, but he cut her off before she could.

"He's okay for now, but I don't know how much longer that will remain true. Unseen danger nears," Juan said, then shook his head. "So much pain. So much loss. He's traveled far, but he won't find what he's looking for."

She frowned. "Who?" It was difficult to keep up with his various methods of communication.

"Morgan. That is the name of the man that you love. Correct?"

Red's heart jumped in her chest. She wanted to ask how he knew. Hell, she wanted to ask him a million questions, but this was not the time or the place to ask them. "That's none of your business," she said defensively.

He laughed. "Sorry if I hit a nerve."

"You didn't."

"If you say so." His expression grew solemn. "If you ever need to talk, just call. I'll hear you whether it's by vidcom, navcom, or other less obvious means of communication." He stood to leave.

"Mr. Sanchez," Red called out, stopping him.

"Yes?"

"Report to training tomorrow morning."

He grinned and gave her a brisk nod, then strode to the door.

"And Mr. Sanchez."

"Yes?" He looked back over his shoulder.

“Thank you," Red said, then quickly dismissed him.

"Anytime, Ms. Santiago. Anytime."

*    *    *

Morgan sat in the personnel office of Santa Fe Cloning Laboratory, bouncing his knee. He'd submitted his application a week ago. They should've had time to run his information and approve him for the open security position by now.

He'd been lucky. The job had just opened up two weeks ago and several candidates had already applied. Fortunately, none seemed as well suited for the position as he was, or so he thought. So why weren't they offering him the job?

His mind drifted to Gina. God, he missed her. He missed the smell of her hair first thing in the morning. The feel of her skin when he caressed it. The sound of her soft moans when he entered her. Her boisterous laugh. The way she never
backed down from a fight. The fire in her hazel eyes. He missed everything about her.

He closed his eyes and pictured her sitting in his office on the first day they'd met. She'd been a handful, with her black hair and long legs. She'd strode into his office like she owned the place and demanded his cooperation with her murder investigation. He couldn't have known then the murderer she sought would turn out to be his cousin, Kane. Or that her appearance would turn his world upside down and inside out.

He loved her. There was no question in his mind about that. But his feelings for her didn't squelch the doubt that seemed determined to linger. Was he truly committed to their relationship? He thought the answer was a resounding yes, but if that were the case, why had it been so easy to leave? The pain in Morgan's chest increased. He pressed a palm against his ribs and rubbed to ease the tension.

"Mr. Hunter," a voice behind him called out, wrenching Morgan out of his disturbing thoughts.

"Yes." He dropped his hand and turned to face the personnel officer.

"Sorry it took so long. We had a satellite malfunction and your credentials didn't arrive until today," the man said, taking a seat behind his expansive desk. He removed his glasses and looked at Morgan. "May I ask why you'd want to leave a position of command for one of subordination?"

Morgan met the man's beady gaze. Like most republic-clerical employees, the man wore a drab brown suit that enhanced the color of his sallow skin. He'd combed his hair over to disguise the balding patch on his head. If anything, the move drew more attention to the man's pale crown. Morgan forced his eyes back to the man's face before he answered. "I was looking for a change. Wanted to work someplace more civilized." He ground the words out, even though it irked him to do so.

"Yes, quite," said the man, whose name he'd already forgotten. "Most unpleasant being that close to the boundary, I suspect. Never been there myself," he said, putting his large-framed glasses back on. The move magnified his eyes, making them go from beady to absurdly large. "I hear that you can see the boundary fence glowing in the dark from Nuria." "Yes, you can." Morgan thought about the green glow that flanked one side of Nuria. He hated the segregation the fence stood for, but had grown rather fond of the color.

The man shuddered. "No wonder you want out."

Morgan nodded. "Yes, it's horrible. Can't imagine ever going back." As each word fell from his lips, Morgan felt something wrench inside of him. Gina's smile flashed in his mind. The thought of never seeing her again seemed unbearable. He had to stay strong. Morgan pictured Sarah and Joshua. They were the only things that kept him in his seat and not rushing out the door. They were the past. Gina was the present. But Morgan knew he couldn't leave until he saw this through. He had to find Sarah's and Joshua's cell samples quick, so he could get back home.

"Do you have any questions?" the man asked, straightening his tie.

"No. I've read the literature about your company. I know you're doing cutting-edge work here. It's one of the reasons I came here and not one of the other biotech labs."