Chapter Four
Jack Barnett stared at the invitation on the screen.
He’d proofed it a few times. God knew that English hadn’t been his best subject in high school. Or college. But no one wanted to look like a fool on the internet.
Not that his name would be attached to this. As far as the world was concerned, he and Parker were shadows, slipping in and out of the darkness like specters. He’d ceased to be a person who left his mark.
Or, maybe he’d stopped being a person who was proud of the mark he left.
The words on the monitor mocked him.
Opportunity! Become your best self!
Have you ever wanted to be a superhero? To make a difference? To REALLY have the kind of powers—real powers—to change your reality?
If you always wanted to be telekinetic, to run like Superman, or to read minds, this is your chance.
Join us.
The specifics of the meeting followed—all the who, what, when, and where crap. The invite ended with his best sales pitch.
If you’ve ever thought you were more than what you appeared, this is your chance to prove it. Don’t hesitate. This is your time.
If you’ve thought you were more than you appeared…
A lifetime ago, he’d wanted to prove his worth on the football field—was sure he would. Then he’d be on his way, off to the draft and out of shitty Glory, Colorado. He was supposed to start for USC last fall. After his change, he’d spent those football Saturdays in Mexico, hiding. He’d read the previews and critiques from the sportswriters who predicted how successful the USC season would be. His name had been mentioned amidst a haze of speculation. Where was he, what had happened to him?
Disappeared without a trace, they’d decided. God, that had been hard to read.
It had been harder when his name had faded from their write-ups entirely.
When Parker had insisted that this…change was part of a grander plan, Jack had swallowed that. He’d wanted to believe that he hadn’t lost his old life for nothing. That he hadn’t given up college football and the NFL draft to hide like a chump.
His little sisters had died, blood tracks on their innocent faces. They’d idolized Jack, and they’d been killed, collateral damage. He’d needed to believe there was a reason.
He’d clung to that like a lifeline. And he’d gone along with Parker.
Now, he was in too deep. Some of the things they’d done, there was no escape. Especially after what happened last night.
He’d stood by and watched while Parker killed that guard at the pharmaceutical company. And after tomorrow’s meeting, there would truly be no going back.
“That’s right, Jack. This is the way forward.” Parker cut in, and Jack closed his eyes. “You will see. I know you have doubts, but you will see.” As always, there was supreme confidence in his voice. He trusted what he said completely.
Jack allowed his brain to go to blank. He glanced at the invitation. “It’s ready.”
“Post it. We will see what we get tomorrow.” He said nothing else, retreating. Jack had learned that was how Parker operated. Give the command, expect immediate obedience.
He clicked the post button, and his words appeared on the forum. Dropping his gaze, he closed the lid on the laptop, unable to bear seeing them.
Outside his window, the DC skyline stretched before him. This hotel room was pure luxury. Since Parker figured out how to manipulate people’s thinking, they’d stayed in only the best accommodations.
He wondered sometimes if Parker manipulated him. It was possible. It might even be probable. He had to admit, he made an amazing henchman.
He sighed. He should be outraged by that, but he found he was only tired.
Tired of everything.
…
“It could be anything.” Steven Marks, Beth’s research assistant, slumped beside her, studying the list of components they believed were in Parker and Jack’s possession now. His button-down shirt was rolled at the sleeves, and his wire-rimmed glasses sat low on his nose. His features were drawn and weary.
Beth could relate. They’d spent all day running through the FBI’s database of chemical weapons, searching desperately to find what Sinclair and Barnett might be making with the extra components they’d stolen. So far, they’d found nothing conclusive. They hadn’t even found anything inconclusive.
Damn it.
“This is unacceptable.” She pushed back from the desk, tossing down the pad where she’d been compiling her notes. Standing, she paced, trying to work some of the agitation from her limbs. “There is an explanation. We just haven’t found it yet.”
It had been two days since her laboratory was ransacked. She hated it when she couldn’t figure out a puzzle, but this mystery put people’s lives in danger. The longer it took to unravel, the closer their enemies were to accomplishing their nefarious intentions.
After the burglary, Luke had insisted she wasn’t to blame, and she didn’t need all her IQ points to see who he thought should shoulder that burden. Well, too bad. This was her facility, and what happened here was her responsibility.
It wasn’t her fault that they’d broken in, but she still hadn’t figured out the scientific puzzle here, still couldn’t stop what they did next. Until that happened, she wasn’t going to rest.
Steven sighed. “I know. But we’ve got nothing. I can call in Norris and Matthews from the New York office. They might have some insight. Fresh set of eyes.”
Beth hated to admit she couldn’t solve this on her own, but she wasn’t arrogant enough to delay while she figured it out. “Do it. Get them here today. On the next flight.”
He nodded. “I’ll call right now.” Snapping his laptop closed, he shoved it into his messenger bag. With a swipe, he snagged his phone off the table and headed for her office, closer to the window, where there was better reception.
She stretched her back, rubbing her neck. Exhaustion pressed down on her, and she debated finding a couch somewhere to grab a catnap.
Problem was she hadn’t been able to sleep at Detrick since the break-in. She’d never had difficulty sleeping here before, but now she couldn’t relax, jumping at any sound and glancing over her shoulder. She’d spent the last two days here, though, trying to figure out what Sinclair and Barnett were planning.
She’d personally helped clean up the mess in the lab yesterday, hoping that if she put it back together, she’d dispel her unease.
Not so much.
Maybe she needed a walk. Maybe it would clear her head.
And coffee would help.
She tucked her phone into her pocket and hurried out of the lab. In the main room, a few people hunched over computers. There was a quiet hum of conversation, but no one paid any attention to her. In their company, she inhaled a full breath, filling her lungs and closing her eyes. Only then did she acknowledge her racing heart, the pounding of it loud in her ears, and her accelerated breathing.
These were the classic symptoms of an adrenaline, fight-or-flight reaction. A panic attack.
Around her, the others continued to work, oblivious. Her chest tightened further, stealing the air from her lungs. Lightheaded, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, striding toward the stairwell. If she could get upstairs, get outside, maybe she could get some oxygen inside her body again. By the time she hit the door to the stairwell, she was running. She shoved the door open and collided with a hard, male body.
The impact robbed her of the rest of her breath and dizziness took her. She lost her balance, tipping backward. Arms circled her. Trapped, she balled her fists, and she beat at her captor, pummeling the chest she was pressed against, the panic reducing her to instinct.
“Beth. Beth. Stop.” The low voice broke into her terror and stole the fight from her arms. The bad guy knew her name? How? He sounded so familiar…
She stalled in her punching and vaguely registered that the person holding her had shuffled her backward into the stairwell. The cool concrete of the wall pressed into her back.
“Beth. Beth.” The voice was stern. She glanced up into Luke’s grim face.
“Luke?” What was he doing?
“Yeah.” Beneath her palms, every muscle on his chest was hard, coiled tight. She pressed her fingertips against him, not sure if she was checking to see if he was real or if she just wanted to feel him, solid and steady. “Are you in danger?”
“What?” She blinked.
“Are you in danger?” He was more insistent this time. He’d asked her this before, two days ago, hadn’t he?
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not in danger.” The panic had stolen her sanity, reducing her to someone she didn’t recognize.
Luke continued to look over his shoulder. “You were running. Are you sure?” The words were curt and urgent.
“No.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “I mean, yes. I’m fine…” Except she wasn’t fine. Here, trapped against him, it was abundantly clear that she wasn’t fine.
“You crashed into me, and then you tried to kick my ass. What happened?”
“I just…” She didn’t want to finish the statement. What could she say? That she’d freaked out? Lost her mind?
Having Luke witness her meltdown gave it legitimacy. Now she couldn’t hide it, couldn’t hide from it. For some reason, that made her angry.
She lifted her head, hitching up her chin. All the excuses she’d have made would sound stupid under his watchful gaze, so she might as well offer the truth. “I’m having a hard time. A really hard time.”
Her voice broke on her admission, and she swallowed, clenching her jaw, humiliated by how close to tears she was. She never cried. It was counterproductive. She’d stopped after her father died in Afghanistan eight years ago. Crying hadn’t brought him back to life, and it hadn’t helped her or her mother adjust.
She was brilliant, a certified genius. Definitely smart enough to know that crying fixed nothing.
Luke searched her face. “I see.”
He couldn’t. She rolled her eyes, gritting her teeth. “I was having a panic attack.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “You’ve seen more than most people should.”
Not as much as he had, though, and he wasn’t a slave to panic. He could control himself.
How did he do it?
I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.
In the circle of his arms, she found it difficult to think, but this time it wasn’t because of panic. Holding her between the unyielding wall and his strong body, Luke anchored her to the moment when earlier her brain had scattered. His heat seeped into her. Something buzzed through her, causing her breathing to hitch and flutters to erupt in her stomach.
His gaze remained steady and inscrutable as his hands circled her waist, his fingers squeezing, holding her against him. The warmth of him was delicious. Beth couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched anyone outside a handshake or a pat on the arm.
She clutched his forearms, her fingers digging into the muscles there. She leaned forward, into him, inhaling. He smelled as good as he felt.
In the cocoon of his embrace, she regained her perspective. Only then did his reaction seem strange.
“You thought someone was in the headquarters,” she finally said, tilting her head back. He hadn’t been surprised. He’d only moved her out of the doorway, shielded her with his body, and searched for the threat, even while she was beating on him like a madwoman.
“Yeah. I did.” Stepping back, he broke his eye contact and blew out an exasperated breath. The distance, though only a few inches, felt like a canyon between them.
“You think someone can still get in here.” It was the logical conclusion but sounded like an accusation.
A pause. “Yeah. I do.”
The admission ran like ice water down her spine. She narrowed her eyes on him. “After all they’ve done to shore up security since the break-in, you still think they’ll be able to get in?” They’d reinforced their defenses. That’s what they told her. She’d been holding on to that small reassurance for the past two days.
“It doesn’t matter. If Parker and Jack want in here, they’re coming.”
“But…”
“No ‘buts.’” He shook his head, gripping her shoulders gently and forcing her to look at him. His brows were low, his face intense. “Don’t you get it? They can go where they want. Anywhere they want to go. They’ve already proven that. We can only try to get in their way. To get to them first. To blunt the damage they plan to do.”
She blinked up at him, their faces only inches apart. She’d spent the past twenty-four hours trying to convince herself that she was safe. In the way that she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t afraid, she couldn’t believe she was protected. Not anymore.
He’d always known. For her, the equilibrium of her life had been upset two days ago. After the break-in, she had to accept she wasn’t cushioned from danger, not in the cloistered halls of academic institutions and not in the secretive halls of government facilities.
“I was a military brat,” she said, folding her arms around her. “My father died in Iraq.”
“I’m sorry.”
She choked down the familiar pain conversation about her father brought to the surface. Nodding, she continued. “For me, the bad guys were always a half a world away. They didn’t come here.” She worried her lip with her teeth. “These bad guys? They can do what they want, break into whatever drug company they want, kill whomever they want. It’s hard to pretend I’m safe. Not anymore.”
His fingers slipped, holding her biceps, and he whispered. “And if I’ve learned anything in this godforsaken, messed-up situation, it’s that no one is safe. Ever.”
The pain in his voice, in his eyes… The urge to hold him, to show him he was safe with her, gripped her. Arching forward, she closed the distance between them.
His eyes flared. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and stepped back. Away from her.
She tried not to see his hasty retreat as a rejection, but it was hard to tamp down on the disappointment.
With the letdown came crushing embarrassment. She knew better. This was why she didn’t get close to people—because the smallest slights hurt too much.
She’d remember that for next time.
Pressing her palms against the cool wall behind her and inhaling a steadying breath, she was determined to be strong here, under his gaze.
“Thank you,” she said. “For helping me.”
They were so similar. He’d lost people he cared about, too. The evidence of horror and sorrow lived in him. When her father died, she remembered the helplessness, the abandonment. In the years since, she’d used her work to build a wall around herself, to convince herself that she was safe again.
There was no safety, though. There never had been. He might not want her, not the way she wanted him. But she wasn’t alone and somehow that made the uncertainty easier to bear.
“You’re welcome.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he cleared his throat. “You okay now?”
Nodding, she attempted a grin and hoped it looked convincing. “Yes. Definitely.”
“Come on, then.” He held out a hand. “I have something that might help.”