Virtually Hers (13 page)

“Your government’s sneaky, Hawk. They negotiated to have the KLA take over what’s left of Yugoslavia and they make drops in big crates called ‘Relief Aid’. Some of these crates are actually filled with weapons and they’re dropped at specific locations for me.”

“How did they choose you? Do you have a direct line to the U.S. Armory? Come on, Dilaver. Don’t tell me you’re an agent for the American government.”

“No, you have it backwards. I have an agent in the United States…” Male laughter.

“Your aunt?”

“She’s high level, got the authority to approve shipments or something… She said there’s some problem moving the weapons from her end right now and she might need my help. What do you say, Hawk? Help me out?”

Eight Ball interrupted in the ear phone, “End of snippet One.”

Helen pulled out the buds and returned her attention to the big overhead screens. The man appeared to be talking to someone off-screen with his mic off. The woman was taking notes. Jed remained silent, apparently waiting.

While he waited, Helen mulled over the recorded conversation. That was probably the operation the commandos had been talking about in the meeting she’d interrupted. From what she could gather, there was a list somewhere with some big important weapons that were missing. Jed and his men’s task was to find and retrieve them. One of them was the decoder she’d helped locate recently. The other was this shipment in Macedonia. She frowned. Dropped by the CIA themselves? Whoa. She’d missed that part while watching the nightly news.

The man shifted his gaze back to the camera. “We’ll work on the identity of the female relative.”

Jed nodded. “Affirmative. Easier at your end. Get Ricardo Harden from TIARA in on it. He has resources inside the CIA.”

“I know he’s your friend and that he’s a major part of Admiral Madison’s investigative council, but can we fully trust him?” the woman interjected. “He’s still CIA.”

“Once a bureaucrat, always a bureaucrat,” the man observed.

“Harden wasn’t always a bureaucrat,” Jed said. “Besides, this is personal to him. His wife, GEM operative Nikki Harden, was a victim of the CIA moles.”

“All right, McNeil. I’ll update you on any conversations with him.”

“In your opinion, is the Virus unit still overextended, now that you have Admiral Madison’s SEALs to help you out?”

Helen frowned. She knew, from T.’s briefing and some reading, that the COS commandos—the original nine—had undergone an intensive experimental training program called Virus, so this “Virus unit” must be referring to
her
team. There were seven of them now, excluding her. Like her, two of the others, Armando Chang and Shahrukh Kingsley, were relatively new additions. It’d never occurred to her till now why there was the sudden merger between certain parts of CCC and GEM. She’d figured the need to avenge for lost teammates came into it but, in this room, she saw that the merger was more than that. The big explosion that had killed a few of the COS Commandos and her sister operatives so many years ago had effectively shut down many ongoing operations and pushed CCC to the limit.

So now they were back to eight, if they counted her. She rubbed her nose. She wondered what “number” she’d be assigned. The thought made her roll her eyes. Why couldn’t men be more creative and use gems and jewelry instead of stupid numbers?

She looked thoughtfully over at Number “so-I-can-still-freak-you-out” Nine. He projected the aura of a man who very seldom failed. How galling it must have been for him to see his men die, to acknowledge that he’d failed them. His job was to close a mission. It suddenly dawned on her that he’d never “finished” that particular one. Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t know where the feeling came from, but she’d bet a whole week of coffee that Number Nine had been working toward some end game he wasn’t revealing to whoever these two debriefing him were.

So many layers to this man. Could she ever have the time to peel him apart like he did her?

Chapter Eight

Secret test facility, Virginia

“Five-One, are you ready?”

Of course he was ready. He was beyond ready. When he’d been told about the test run, he’d wanted to kiss his so-called monitor in gratitude.

“Yes,” he said crisply. “No alcohol or caffeine in my bloodstream. No contaminants. I’m fully rested.”

So that was a white lie. He’d managed to bum some cigarettes from the few patients he’d befriended because he needed a buzz. They were so lucky not to be in any program that cut off their goodies. Downtime had been the pits. He hadn’t been able to sleep well at all, not with the headaches and nothing to soothe him.

His heart was beating so loudly in anticipation that he was afraid his monitor could hear it. He so, so wanted this, needed this. But he had to be careful and not let the bastards see what the serum was like for him. If they knew, they would probably use the knowledge against him.

And this was perfect. They were going to look in on the bitch and now he could retrieve his cache. He’d been thinking of how she’d done it, hadn’t quite figured that part out yet, but since she took from him, he couldn’t see why he couldn’t take from her too.

“Now you know what your assignment is, right, Five-One?” his monitor prompted him, holding up a sealed envelope.

“Yes, the universal agreement is to go immediately to where the winner of the supersoldier-spy program is and make sure she isn’t in Macedonia. That way we’ll be sure she isn’t in our way this time when we’re there.”

“Yes, that’s right. Do the best you can to describe what you see, and then come back immediately because we’re going to need all your strength for the next assignment. It’s going to be a tough one and we’ll need you one hundred percent.”

One thing he had to say about his monitor, whatever his name was—Thin One, as he called him—he was very succinct in his instructions and knew how to keep him focused. If it had been Fat One, things would have gone disastrously wrong from the get-go. He couldn’t focus when there was such impatience and ridicule around him.

He glanced at Fat One. Maybe that was why he was sitting across the room this time and not taking up so much of his personal space. Maybe Thin One told his friend to shut up for once.

“Not a problem,” he told his monitor. “I’ll focus on her and make sure she’s nowhere in Macedonia, or going there.”

If he could, he’d make damn sure she would feel as lost as he was right now.

“Good. Take a deep breath. Focus on the soundwaves while I inject the serum into you. There you go. Five-One, think of the envelope and tell me when you’re where you’re supposed to be. Details, please.”

He did as he was told. Remote viewing wasn’t a complicated process for him any more. Once his brainwaves went to theta, he could bilocate—go to the agreed universal location—without even being conscious about it.

The heat of the serum. Oh, God, the rush, the rush. He felt his head go back as the heady feeling spread inside him. Trigger code…

Switch to channel three. Set programming time. Set channel.

Timer on. Record.

“I feel the coordinates,” he announced.

“Bilocate,” his monitor ordered.

He hoped he wasn’t shouting his joy as power surged through him.
Fast forward! Fast forward!

And there the bitch was, right in front of him.

***

Jed beckoned to Helen with a slight shake of his head. He was done. He quelled the amusement that rose up as he watched her affecting an exaggerated shuffle, dragging one foot behind her while holding one hand against her chest as if she was disfigured, and awkwardly swinging the other hand, in such perfect imitation of a hunchback that there was no mistaking who she was impersonating.

She was something else. No woman who knew him here would dare make fun of him in quite that way. The bold ones flirted. The married ones gossiped. Those who disagreed with him were still careful with words and actions. No one had ever pretended to be the classic Igor to mock him.

“Your leg must be hurting you more again,” he commented. “I must not have taken care of it enough the other night.”

He enjoyed the way her eyes narrowed, the way her lips curled down into that sinfully sexy pout. She had no idea what she did to him every time she came close. In fact, neither had he anticipated it, since all he’d ever done was watch her on-screen and interact with her through virtual reality.

Meeting Helen Roston in real life was like watching HDTV for the first time. Everything about her was more vibrant, taking his breath away. He’d never get tired of looking at her. Of wanting her. His desire was like a freight train. One could see it coming; one could even brace for it; but there was no avoiding the oncoming collision.

Also, her sassy and quirky humor made him see something in a different light. Like now, for instance. What woman would mock herself as Igor to his Frankenstein?

“Who are those two?” she asked.

“Checks and balances.” He keyed the door open and they both exited.

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Show any deficit or overextension, and someone somewhere will find a reason to put you more behind.”

“I mean their names,” she said.

He glanced at her. “They change faces, so it’s easier to just remember them as checks and balances. You’ll see what I mean the more you deal with them.” He glanced at his watch. “One more appointment.”

“Can we first pick up some food? I’m starving.”

So was he. But then he’d never liked to eat much after finishing an assignment.

“We’ll be eating with Admiral Madison,” he told her, watching the surprise in her eyes. “So that should take care of that problem.”

“The same admiral from the group of department heads watching me during the test run? The one with the nice voice.”

Amusement filled him again. He’d bet the admiral—a tall, distinguished man, with medals hanging out his ass, and whose valor on the field earned him the nickname “Mad Dog”—had never been recognized for just his “nice” voice before. “Yes. The SEALs we’re conducting the joint venture with are his boys.”

“Ah. Makes sense now. Do I just show up with you? How does one dress for a meal with an admiral, anyway? Not that it’s going to matter, since I don’t have any change of clothes at Center other than workout and casual.”

Jed glanced at her again. She was talking quickly. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, as if she was aware that she’d given herself away.

“It’s coming back again,” he observed. “Our time in the elevator alleviated your condition for a while, but it wasn’t enough to stop it.”

Her cheeks went even pinker. “You’re making it sound as if you did that to help me out,” she muttered. “I’d feel a lot better if I didn’t feel so helpless against it. It makes it impossible for me to think, and you’re using it against me.”

“Yes,” he acknowledged.

“I should’ve seen it coming,” she continued. “I knew you were up to something but I kept getting distracted by all that techy stuff.”

He could tell that she wasn’t really talking to him, that she was trying to distract herself now. He frowned. He didn’t want her to suffer. After feeling a little bit of what she was going through while they were connected in VR, he understood her distress. The inability to control one’s impulses would frustrate him too.

He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head up. “Everything’s going to be all right. We’ll fix this.” He frowned. Her eyes were dilated. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m not sure,” she breathed. She touched her forehead tentatively. “Tension.”

“Tension? As in headache?”

She nodded, then shook her head, as if she couldn’t decide. She jerked her head out of his hold, sweeping her surroundings. Her body language was tense. Jed looked around too. Nothing.

Channel three. Zoom in.

That was her! He was sure of it. Tall. Long brown hair. Pretty eyes. She was quite an attractive woman, which was surprising. He’d thought she’d look like some big biker chick, considering that she could climb ropes and wrestle with those fucking special ops trainers. Those assholes were mean fighters.

So his image of her was totally one-eighty. She looked a lot softer from this distance. He gazed at her body appreciatively. And nice curves. He ignored the man by her side as he reached out with his senses. No thoughts of Macedonia. No plans. He took one step closer to her, mentally opening all his channels, and almost moaned out loud.

Holy shit. His dick instantly went hard, stopping him in his tracks. Holy. Shit. She was emanating sexual energy like he’d never felt before. That was her, all right, with
his
cache and what was more, she had been sexing it up with that man beside her. Even from here, he could feel the combined sexual energy between them, waiting, waiting for him to taste, to bathe in.

Erotic need blanketed his mind as he probed the energy field. This was a first for him, to actually feel so much from this far away. Usually, he just “saw” the energy and had learned to recognize certain types as sexual afterglow.

His own need rose hungrily, eagerly. She had had plenty of sex recently. Her energy was heavy with desire, as if she was still in a sexual state. Those two must have just had it in this hallway and he’d missed it, dammit. He would have loved to have been there, watching them. No matter, soon he would get her memories and watch those moments for himself.

A mental picture of her on her knees slammed into his senses. He felt his erection stretched so painfully, he couldn’t think at all. This was going to be so good.

He had to have it all. Had to take what was his back and more. Her energy was delicious, so strong that he just wanted to stand there and jack off.

“Agent Five-One? Details.”

He cursed silently, trying to concentrate. “Yeah, hang on. I see the target. I have to get closer, though, to sense.”

“Go ahead.”

Like he fucking needed permission. He took another step closer, uncaring, releasing all his channels.
Record. Record it all.
There was white noise interrupting him. He turned and looked to his right. Some guy in black walking quickly toward him. If he turned the corner, he would see the couple. He didn’t sense anything unusual about him. No thoughts of Macedonia…something urgent, though. What the fuck was this white noise? He couldn’t filter the thoughts from the noise.

No time. His woman was walking down the hallway toward him, a frown on her face. Could she feel his presence? Of course not. No, no, she was listening to the other man’s footsteps and telling her companion that someone was coming.

He mentally shrugged. Who cared what they were up to? He was going to drop in on her aura and wrap her energy around him and happily feed. She owed him.

“I’m almost there,” he told his monitor, trying to curb the excitement in his voice. “Wait while I search for information.”

“Affirmative, Five-One.”

He smiled. Hello, supersoldier-spy. So what sexy thing have you been up to with your boyfriend lately? I want it all, bitch.

He started toward her.
Record. Full speed.

“What’s wrong?” Jed asked again. Something was bothering her and it wasn’t just her sensitized state.

“Danger,” she whispered. She gripped his upper arm. “Can’t explain it. I just sense this feeling.”

“Now?” Jed asked, looking around again.

“Suddenly. I get this warning…it’s…”

She raked her hair restlessly. She started walking, heading toward where the corridor split to the left and right. Jed reached out, wanting to tell her to stay back behind him. She put up her hand to signal stop, her head cocked, listening.

Footsteps approached. He was about to step in front of Helen when Armando appeared in their left corridor, with his boots clicking noisily. He was in a hurry, as if he was late for something. His eyes widened at the sight of them.

“Timing is very important in an illusion,” he said, his strides gathering speed as he broke into a run toward them.

Before Jed could say anything to stop him, Armando crashed into Helen, bringing her down. As one part of his mind registered that Helen didn’t attempt to avoid Armando at all, falling onto the carpeted floor without a fight or a gasp, another part, trained from years of instinctive reaction, instantly pushed his own body forward into a defensive stance, to face whatever it was that prompted one of his team to rush them like that.

A few seconds went by. Not a sound. Nothing came from around either corner. From behind him, he sensed Armando and Helen moving on the floor, getting up.

“What were you running from, Armando?” Jed asked, still looking at the empty corridor ahead.

What the fuck? That man in black was running. The stupid Asian was going to run through him while he had all his channels on record! All that white noise! Oh fuck!

No time! He couldn’t command and pull back all the channels at once. He mentally pushed his shadow self down the corridor, going for the woman, focusing only on her. No way any man could go faster than a bilocated remote viewer. Only ten feet or so separated him from his beloved treasure.

He sped forward and yelled in agony as his whole being smacked into some kind of invisible wall in front of the couple. He felt his insides crumple into dark swirls, as if he had a lit candle there and it was rapidly melting, coating everything in hot wax. It was horrible. His heartbeat churned and echoed. His eyeballs burned. Melted. He couldn’t move quickly. Fear engulfed him. What was happening?

He screamed. It felt like he’d been sliced in half. The running man, who had been way behind him, caught up, and ran right through his shadow self at top speed. His remaining open channels…recording… This wasn’t possible. A remote viewer could pass through anything…

“What the hell? Five-One, what’s happening? Why are you screaming?”

He couldn’t answer his monitor. The serum, the acceleration of which he’d been so addicted to, was pulling in everything from the man who’d just passed through him. Pain. The agony dropped him to his knees. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t get up. The gooey mass that had stopped him before had now penetrated into his “body”, blocking sight, blocking air. He fought for breath. Gasped for help.