The Storm That Is Sterling (16 page)

Caleb, still focused on Michael’s concerns, waved off his warning. “Rebecca Burns can’t control my mind. She can’t control her own. We need her in a lab, helping us find a way to deal with ICE. That means we have to help her, so she can help us.”

Kelly tried to respond. “Yes, but—”

Michael cut her off.

“Assumed lack of control,” Michael said. “It could be an act.”

“If I touch her mind, I’ll know if it’s an act,” Caleb said. “And that has to happen before we allow her near one of our facilities.”

“Quarantine her at Neonopolis,” Michael said. “Don’t allow her inside Sunrise City. Our main headquarters needs to stay off limits.”

“I agree,” Kelly argued, never one to hold back her thoughts. She’d been with the Renegades since the day of the Area 51 takeover, and she was as devoted as any of the men to protecting her country. “She can work in a lab there and communicate with me via webcam while I evaluate her myself. And for the record, I double-checked our initial information, and not only did Becca have cancer, her treatments were highly experimental. Frankly, I don’t know how she got into the program. It’s so exclusive. We’re working on her detailed records. I’m curious to see how ICE reacts to her specific medication. It’s the most logical cause of these abilities, since she’s the only one who’s developed them. And I have to say… as bad as all this is, there could be some amazing cancer cure discovered. So in other words, get me that blood sample, Sterling. I’m dying to see what’s going on with Becca.”

“I will,” he said.

“She’s going to need more ICE,” Kelly added. “I have about three weeks worth for her, and that’s it. And that’s being really sparing in the lab to ration it.”

“I’ll get it,” Sterling said. He had to. He would.

“Back to the prior topic, Caleb,” Michael inserted, ignoring the rest of the conversation. “Don’t underestimate how much he wants you by his side. He could use this woman to manipulate your mind. He believes together you will be unstoppable—that you could rule the world.”

Caleb rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll extract at 1400 hours.” Which gave them three hours until departure. He eyed Sterling. “I’ve already cleared nonessential personnel before her arrival.”

Sterling inhaled a rough breath and let it out. “She wants proof we aren’t working for Adam before she helps us.” It bit hard that she didn’t trust him, even if he was forced to question her. He knew better, but it still didn’t sit well.

Caleb nodded. “I’ll arrange documentation and a call to the White House.”

“And we want proof she isn’t working for Adam as well,” Michael stated flatly.

Cassandra elbowed him. “Stop, Michael. You’ve made it clear you don’t trust her.” She removed the canvas bag from her shoulder. “I brought Becca some clothes and girl stuff to carry her over until we get to her place. I felt like this would be faster.”

Sterling accepted the bag. “Thanks, Cass.”

“I’m happy to help,” she said. “I only wish it were safe for me to go into the room and talk to her. The poor thing has cancer, a forced ICE addiction, Adam chasing her, and now you guys to deal with. I can’t imagine what she must be going through.”

Sterling shook his head, amazed that this caring woman, a psychologist who’d worked with soldiers and their families, a friend to everyone who knew her, was the daughter of the mastermind behind the GTECH “immunizations.” But indeed, her father was General Powell, now MIA and most likely up to some government plot to control the GTECHs. And she’d been brave enough to stand against him.

Michael grimaced at his Lifebond, now GTECH through their connection. “I told you not to go getting sappy over this woman, Cassandra. I don’t want you to become attached and get hurt. For all we know, Adam has promised to cure her cancer by making her a full GTECH in exchange for her service to him.”

“He’d never give the GTECH serum to a woman,” she scoffed. “He believes women are beneath men, meant to be converted only through Lifebonding.”

“Adam often makes promises he does not intend to keep,” Michael reminded her. “
Especially
to women.” He cut a glare at Sterling. “I will continue to believe he has sent her here to infiltrate our operation and tear us down from the inside out until I have proof otherwise.” He glared at Sterling. “You’d be smart to do the same.”

Sterling stared bullets at Michael, ready to launch himself at him, ready to throttle him once again for being right. Michael stared right back at him, welcoming a confrontation.

Caleb looked between Michael and Sterling, and then arched a brow. “Something I should know?”

“Nothing,” Sterling said and meant it. Michael, in all his asshole delivery of the facts, was still right. He wasn’t objective with Becca. Just thinking of the way she’d tasted on his lips, tightening his groin, and he knew it was more than that. He wanted her in a bad way, and fuck, fuck, fuck, he was emotionally involved with a woman who really could be the enemy. A soldier knew better than to be emotionally involved. No more. From now on, it would be all business.

It was a resolution he set solidly inside himself, just as a text message buzzed his cell phone. Thankful for the distraction, he yanked his cell from his belt and glanced at the screen. It was Marcus. “It’s one of my street contacts,” he told Caleb as he motioned to the door. He’d reply to Marcus once he was inside. “I’ll be ready at 1400.”

“We’ll have a car and driver at the front door,” Caleb said. “You and Becca take the backseat. Make sure she’s tranq’d, Sterling. For everyone’s safety.”

Damn. “Copy that, boss,” Sterling said, heading toward the motel, a new attitude toward Becca firmly installed, or so he thought.

The instant he walked into the room and shut the door, the scent of Becca permeated his nostrils, seeped into his soul, and he had to remind himself that touching her would paint a bull’s-eye on her for the Trackers. Becca was off limits.

He set the food on the table, walked to the bathroom, and knocked. “I have clothes and some other items one of the Renegade’s Lifebond put together for you. They haven’t had time to get your things as I’d hoped.”

The door cracked open, and Lord have mercy… when he saw that tiny, white splotch of towel through the crack, he knew it was all she had on. A wild, hot image of shoving open that door and ripping the towel away tore through his mind right before the cruelly vivid fantasy of bending her naked body over the cabinet and burying himself inside her.

Off limits, he told himself, but he didn’t move, didn’t walk away. He stood right there, all but talking himself into pushing that door open and pulling every naked inch of her next to him.

Sterling was still trying to convince himself not to go inside the bathroom and strip away Becca’s towel when she delicately cleared her throat.

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely, as if she were as affected by the intimacy of the moment as he was. She backed behind the door and reached for the bag.

Sterling handed it to her quickly and turned away, adjusting his cock where it rested painfully against his zipper in a long, hard throb of pain. Sexual tension prickled him like tiny needles poking his skin. With a grumble, Sterling yanked the damn torn picture off the leg of an overturned chair and set it against the wall, and then finished. Still he couldn’t get rid of the tension charging through his body; he dropped and did a hundred push-ups. Cock still throbbed. Shit. Damn thing was as stubborn as a woman. He did another hundred. His cell buzzed again, and Sterling cursed. He’d forgotten Marcus.

Sterling jumped to his feet and claimed a chair behind the table and opened the text message to read:
Where is my money?

The blow-dryer sounded in the bathroom as Sterling sent a text message in return:
Where is my ICE?

Marcus:
Don’t tell me you screwed up a sure thing?

Sterling:
Your idea of a sure thing is about as sure as getting lucky with a nun.

A several-seconds pause, then:
If I get you another shot don’t F it up.

Sterling snorted:
Talk is cheap.

Marcus replied:
My portion of this deal is not.

Sterling would have typed more, but the door to the bathroom opened, and he all but swallowed his tongue. Becca stood there with her hair sleek and shiny, her lips glossed pink, her skin pale and fresh, looking like an angel come to save his tarnished, bedeviled soul. Of its own free will, his gaze traveled over the slim blue jeans she wore and flat, silver-strapped sandals that showcased delicate little feet. Then back up those long legs to her pale blue blouse that dipped deliciously at her neckline.

Her hands smoothed the silky strands of her hair as she walked toward the table. “I can’t believe the clothes fit.”

“We’ll get your things later,” he said. The earlier extraction had forced priorities to shift, but he didn’t tell her that.

“I’m completely satisfied,” she said. “You have no idea how wonderful it felt to have clean clothes and a private shower that didn’t make me feel like I was the star of some porn flick.”

Sterling’s gaze riveted to her face, a hard punch of anger vibrating through his gut. “I’m sorry about Tad opening the bathroom door like he did. I would never have let him go inside.”

Pink flushed her cheeks, and she sat down at the table trying to be nonchalant about her comment, but the visible shiver that shook her delicate frame gave her away. “I hate talking about that man. He might have been forced to keep his hands off me, but Tad raped me with his mind so many times, it makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.”

Blistering anger bubbled inside Sterling and mixed with an acidy dose of guilt over ever letting Becca near him in the first place.

Becca inhaled. “Food smells so good.”

He reached for the bag and offered her a burger and fries. “It’s probably cold by now.”

“I don’t care,” she said popping a fry and sighing. “I feel like it’s been a lifetime since I had a good fry.” She unwrapped her burger and spread the fries on the paper. “I’m actually hungry too. It’s the first time in well… a really long time. Got any ketchup?”

He snatched up the packets in the bag and piled them on the table before reaching inside the fridge. “I’ve got water and Dr. Pepper.”

“No Coke?” she asked, mockingly appalled.

“I have a pretty serious Dr. Pepper addiction,” he admitted, passing her the can. “Doc Kelly—she heads up our scientific team—she gives me hell about it. Says all the sugar is bad for the body.”

She accepted the soda. “But you don’t care, I take it?” She gave him a smile, light and full of humor. The tension from her demand for proof he wasn’t working for Adam had faded, if only for a short while. It was the first time he’d seen her at ease, and he liked her this way. He also felt like a complete asshole, because he was about to tranquilize her and betray what little trust he’d earned.

“If a GTECH can’t survive a few too many DPs,” he said, “he’s in real trouble when the Zodius start shooting. I think Kelly thinks it makes us feel human if she acts like were human.”

She dabbed her mouth. “I guess there is the plus side. You can now justify your vices.” He leaned back on the chair and studied her, watching her slim, ivory neck as she swallowed. Delicate. Kissable. “Am I to believe you have no vices?”

She smiled, and it was as if the sun had shined right there at that table. Sterling had seen a lot of female smiles—demure, seductive. He’d not seen a lot of sunshine smiles. “Still like my Snickers bars.”

He grinned, reaching inside the fridge again, before dropping a package of peanut M&Ms on the table. She laughed. “Your version of my Snickers bar?”

“You betcha, sweet plum,” he said, winking.

She snorted. Feminine. Cute. “Sweet plum? That’s a new one.”

“What can I say?” he queried. “You inspire my creativity.”

She waved that off jokingly and picked up the candy. “You keep M&Ms in the fridge?”

“A man has to do what a man has to do to protect his candy. This place is a dump. The air doesn’t work half the time, and they melt, which turns a bag of peanut M&Ms into a bag of messy peanuts, and that’s just not right.”

She shook her head and laughed. Soft and musical. His cock jerked again. Damn. “Yet judging from the DP stock,” she said curiously, “you come here often.”

He thrummed his fingers on the table. “Places like this have ears to the pavement you won’t find anywhere else.”

“Not even the high-rise, high-security resorts?”

“They each have their value,” he agreed, “but the resort crowd requires a lot of time and even more of the green stuff. And why give away the green if you don’t have to? Places like this one—you can get a guy to sell out his best friend and his wife for a cigarette.” He draped an arm over the back of the chair. “This is life in the fast lane. The down and dirty of the city.”

“God. The fast lane. My brother used that exact term so many times.”

“It’s a soldier’s mentality,” Sterling told her. “We like action. We like fast.”

“My father wouldn’t have agreed. He’d have taken strategic over the fast lane any day. He was always trying to slow my brother down and make him think.”