10
Dallas tossed and turned on the couch.
He’d actually made up the couch for Lilica. No reason to be a gentleman for his mission’s competition.
Meanwhile, Lilica had made herself right at home in his bed, crawling under his covers and eating a bag of chips while she watched him work through the open door. She’d looked so comfortable, so adorable . . . so sexy with her dark hair spread over his pillows. He hadn’t had the balls to eject her. Or the desire. She’d had few comforts in her young life. How could he take one away?
Now he couldn’t sleep. Hunger for her plagued him. Again and again he’d contemplated sliding in beside her and picking up where they’d left off in the shower. But he knew better now. If he touched her, he wouldn’t stop touching her until he got inside her. Screw good intentions—the solidification of the bond wouldn’t matter to him.
He considered slaking his sexual need with another woman . . . but the idea left a foul taste in his mouth. He’d never been a cheater.
I’m not committed to Lilica. Not really.
Wasn’t he?
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Committed or not, his body craved hers, only hers. She’d become an addiction, his drug of choice, and everyone else paled in comparison.
He banged his fists into the cushions. Lilica was now as determined to resist him as he was determined to resist her. Foolish woman! Did she not realize her attitude only made him want to change her mind, seducing her until she begged for his touch?
I’m so messed up.
He forced his mind to blank and at last drifted to sleep . . . only to be plagued by dreams of Lilica pleasuring herself in the shower, not quite satisfying herself, because she wanted—needed—him.
By the time morning arrived, he was wide-awake and hardwired for aggression. He stomped into the bedroom, not even trying to be quiet, and grabbed clothes from the closet. He slammed the bathroom door as he felt her prick at the edge of his subconscious. Trying to deduce his new plan for her sister?
—Good luck, sweetheart.—
He showered, purposely replaying his dream of her on a loop.
—Bastard!— Her sensual voice filled his head.
As he toweled off and dressed in a white button-down and a pair of black slacks—standard AIR attire—he smiled.
He focused on an image of Lilica on her knees, sucking him off, as he hid his pyre-guns under a jacket and the Schön Slayer in his boot. Her curses echoed from the bedroom.
In the back of his mind, he heard whispering female voices and frowned. He concentrated, doing his best to discern their words, but a soft vibration in his temples signaled a call was coming in, and it distracted him. With a sigh, he tapped his ear against his shoulder.
“What?”
“Wow. Is that any way to greet your boss?” Mia asked.
“Sorry. Let me try again.” As he exited the bathroom, he said, “Hello, Madame Terror. What the hell do you want?”
Her soft laughter crackled over the line. “Better. So. Based on the description Jade gave John and John gave Devyn and Devyn gave me—try saying that three times fast—we’ve found Trinity’s latest victim. We’ve got him in custody at our facility in No Man’s Land. We don’t want him around civilians.”
His bedroom was empty, his sheets wrinkled, the covers askew. Lilica’s scent—freshly cut roses and aged wood—saturated the air, revving his engine all over again. When would this wanting end?
“—listening to me?” Mia said.
“Not really. But I’ll meet you in No Man’s Land.”
“Fine. What about your girl?”
Your girl. The words were kindling on his arousal. “I’ll . . .” What? He refused to bring Lilica with him, wouldn’t put her in danger of infection.
But she would be in danger regardless, because he would be in danger.
Still. He also didn’t want her around other AIR agents. If anyone threatened her, he would willingly leap off the deep end, no doubt about it. He would probably lose a boatload of friends too.
Yesterday he’d had to fight an overwhelming urge to kill Devyn, a man he loved like a brother, just because the guy had simply thought about restraining her. A thought Devyn had entertained because he’d suspected Lilica planned to harm Dallas.
“Don’t worry about her,” he finally said. “She’s my responsibility.”
“Dallas—”
He tapped his ear, disconnecting the call, and strode into the living room, spotting Lilica in the kitchen. She sat on a barstool, her dark hair piled in a sloppy knot on the crown of her head; she leaned across the counter to snag another bag of chips. A clean T-shirt covered her. One of the shirts Devyn had given him. It read “Targon: Tastes So Good.”
Dallas had always loved that shirt. Man crush! Today, he hated it. On Lilica, the hem reached midthigh, revealing mile-long legs he would give anything to have wrapped around his waist . . . or his head.
Anything? His hands fisted.
She drained a can of soda. “This stuff is amazing!”
She was amazing.
She gasped. Glaring at him, she crunched the can and tossed it at him. “Don’t you dare compliment me!”
The metal pinged against his chest and fell to the floor. “I’ll compliment you if I want, and you can’t stop me.”
“Well. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. You, Agent Gutierrez, are a bastard.”
“In every sense of the word.” His beloved mother had never married his father because she’d never known which of her johns had shared his baby batter. “But you only think so because you find me harder to resist when I’m charming.”
As she floundered for a response, Dallas swiped the chips from her grip and stuffed the bag in the trash. “You need to start eating nutritious foods. I’m watching my girlish figure, and I don’t want your fat grams clogging my arteries through the bond.”
“Are crab cakes nutritious?” she asked with narrowed eyes.
Still pissed about that, was she? “Maybe,” he said, “but you’re only getting vegetables until you start cooperating with me.”
“You’re the one who bought all this junk food, and I’m willing to bet you don’t own a single vegetable.” Leaning over the counter, giving him a peek at her panties—making him groan—she swiped up a prepackaged brownie, ripped into it, and stuffed the entire thing in her mouth.
As she chewed, crumbs falling out, he fought a laugh.
When finally she swallowed, she growled, “Enjoy your saddlebags, bitch!”
This time, he barked like a freaking robodog.
Robodog . . .
The word sparked one of Lilica’s memories. The doctors at IOT had run different experiments on her, but the time they’d given her a robodog was the worst. For weeks, she’d played with, loved on, and laughed with the adorable hunk of metal. Then, when she’d formed an attachment to the faux animal, it was taken away from her—and smashed in front of her.
She’d been ripped apart inside, but not by word or deed had she betrayed her sorrow. She’d refused to give the doctors the satisfaction.
Suddenly Dallas felt ripped apart inside. He wanted to soothe the brave, strong girl she’d been, but needed to comfort the prickly, determined woman she’d become. When she’d permitted a bond to grow with him, she’d had to override every protective instinct she’d ever honed.
Why? Why had she done it?
And why did he want to bang his chest? Why were his shoulders rolling back with pride?
She picked me!
Now she feared losing the ones she loved . . . the very reason she was so determined to save Trinity, despite the hopelessness of the situation.
Night sky eyes beseeched him. —Help me save her, Dallas.—
He shook his head to dislodge her voice. He had to get out of here. “I’m going to work.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve got one of Trinity’s victims to interrogate.”
“An innocent man your sister sentenced to death.”
She bristled. “How do you know he’s innocent? Perhaps she chose a criminal.”
“His record—”
“Means nothing, even if it’s clean. People aren’t always what they seem, and you know it.”
Gaze dead serious, he said, “Yes, but people can change. The sweet kid you knew has grown into a violent adult.”
She flipped him off.
He blew her a kiss. Why had he ever tried to convince himself that sweet women with sweet smiles were right for him? Fact was, those sweet women with sweet smiles had never fully satisfied him. He’d never wanted one for more than a single night, because none had ever meant anything to him. But this woman with her carnal smile and quick wit utterly fascinated him.
He couldn’t get enough of her.
A blush stained her cheeks, and he reached out, desperate to know just how hot her skin burned, but he dropped his arm to his side just before contact, his hand fisting.
She gulped, and rasped out, “You had better be careful while you’re out there. Not because I care about you, of course, but because I care about myself.”
Not even close to the truth. He felt her concern for him, and it eased some of the tension he’d battled all night. “I’d like you to stay here and—”
“No way! I spoke with Jade a few minutes ago. We’re meeting at ten.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “When did you speak with Jade? How did you speak with Jade?” Wait. He already knew the answer. The conversation he’d heard/not heard in the shower.
“We’ve always had the ability to communicate telepathically,” she said. “Except the day you drugged me. After your best friend tortured me. If we were in a movie, you and Devyn would be cast as villains. You know that, right?”
The day he’d drugged her . . . only two days ago, he realized. Kind of felt like years. “Our introduction is what’s called a meet cute. And I would be cast as the antihero. There’s a difference.”
“I, of course, would be the star everyone roots for.” Pure elegance and grace, she stood.
He reached out a second time, moving without thought, wrapping his fingers around her wrists. The silk of her skin derailed whatever good intentions he’d had. He yanked her against him, hard, and she gasped. He lowered his head for a kiss—must taste—but caught himself just in time. He jumped back, severing contact as if she were toxic waste. In a way, she was.
I will not be a slave to my desires.
Her irritation slithered around him, nearly choking him as he said, “Don’t kill anyone today.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“If you do, you’ll be labeled predatory. I’ll have to lock you away. Forever. I’ll even throw away the key for good measure.”
“Like that would be a hardship for you.”
It would. It so would, and that was part of the reason he needed to escape her for a few hours.
He stalked to the bag of goodies Devyn had brought with him yesterday. A cell phone, a packet of sedatives disguised as peanut butter candies, and—Dallas refused to let himself think about the third and final item, lest he alert Lilica to his nefarious intentions.
“My number is already programmed into the phone. Call me every hour, on the hour.” He tossed the device in her direction, his aim perfect, but she watched it sail over her shoulder without even trying to catch it. He gnashed his teeth, picked it up, and slapped it into her palm. “I mean it. If you fail to call me, I’ll come gunning for you.”
“Tsk, tsk. Threatening your wife?”
“You are my temporary inconvenience.”
“Tears. Sadness.” She ran a fingertip down her cheek. “I have a sinking suspicion you are going to be a permanent ass pain.”
Can’t smile.
Stop stalling. He struck, shoving a syringe into her bicep and emptying the contents.
She didn’t flinch or hiss, as he’d expected and dreaded; she simply frowned up at him. His stomach knotted as the reason for her lack of reaction crystallized. She’d been poked and prodded since birth, needles a part of her daily life.
The urge to hug her returned, stronger than before. “Power negation?” she asked, calm. Too calm.
“No. An isotope tracker.” Now, even when they were apart, he would be able to monitor her every move with a few clicks of a computer keyboard. He wouldn’t have to rely on the bond.
“Congrats. You’ve mastered hiding your actions from me. Now it’s my turn.” With no more warning than that, she slammed her knee between his legs.
He hunched over, gasping for breath, stars winking through his vision.
She smiled at him. “Sorry there’s not a tracker to help you find your balls.”
Dallas hobbled into the AIR warehouse located in No Man’s Land. Once he’d been sprayed with decontamination mist, he removed the full-body protective suit that had shielded him from the acidic air. Mia, who’d beaten him there, snickered at him. “Your problems with your little bit o’ honey are fun. For me!”
Apparently, after Lilica had unmanned and taunted him, he’d shouted in pain—pain she’d then experienced for herself, her bellows blending with his—and his cell phone had activated on its own. A safety setting. He’d only managed to grunt an explanation to Mia, but she’d gotten the gist and had called him a dozen times during the half-hour drive out here, just to laugh at him.
He was mad as hell, but only at himself. He’d treated Lilica just like the doctors at IOT had treated her. As if she were property. As if she were evil and couldn’t be trusted. As if her feelings and free will meant nothing to him.
He should have asked her to check in with him rather than forced her. She was many things—sexy, frustrating, easily provoked—but she wasn’t a liar.
“Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered.
“My sweet Dallas.” Mia patted his shoulder. “Does your vagina need to be iced?”
He glared at her. “Kyrin should seriously consider taking up BDSM.”
“Why? He hates when I tie him up and whip him.”
Now Dallas rolled his eyes. Women!
He followed Mia through the warehouse completely emptied of agents. Cameras monitored Trinity’s newest victim: a Teran male in his early thirties with multicolored hair, the strands varying from the palest flax to the darkest ebony. His eyes had a slight uptilt at the corners; his teeth were sharp, especially his canines; and every move he made contained the feline grace inherent in his race.
He was confined inside an invisible cage, lasers acting as walls. The Schön disease usually had a slow incubation and progression rate, but though this man had only slept with Trinity yesterday—to AIR’s knowledge—he already had several oozing sores.
Mia stalked around the edge of the cage, all business. Dallas remained behind her, the SS clutched in his hands. Despite his unhurried gait, he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath. His heart hammered against his ribs, and sweat trickled down his neck.
A sense of unease pervaded. Was Lilica running? Or being chased?
“You’re going to tell me everything that happened to you yesterday,” Mia said. “From the time you woke up to the time we stormed into your home.”
The male stared at her with a disturbing mix of lust and desperation. “I bet you taste good.”
“Every time you ignore my demands or veer off topic, I’m going to make sure you regret it.” She stopped in front of a control panel and pressed a series of buttons.
Volts of electricity shot from the floor through the Teran’s entire body, causing his muscles to lock onto bone. With another press of the buttons, the electricity shut off.
“I’m sorry.” The man’s shoulders rolled in and tears spilled from his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I do. And believe it or not, I’m trying to help you. So talk to me. Tell me what I want to know.”
His gaze found her again, and he licked his lips. Then he shook his head and frowned. “The woman I slept with . . . she told me to tell you I’m the first of many, and that I would be part of her army.”
The word army echoed in Dallas’s head, a land mine set to explode. Left unchecked, Trinity could infect the world. And Lilica wanted her kept alive?
A sharp pain lanced through his hand, drawing his gaze to his palm . . . a wound stretched across the center, blood welling and trickling.
Lilica must have been cut, the bond ensuring he experienced the same injury. For a moment, fear nearly paralyzed him. How had she gotten hurt? Was she all right? Though he tried, he couldn’t get inside her head.
“We have to go,” he told Mia. “Now.” He didn’t wait for a reply but raced for the door, switching on his cell phone and dialing Lilica’s.