Faith leveraged her enhanced genetics, pushing them for more speed as she ran across campus to make her agreed upon meeting with Dr. Thomas on time. Practice had gone particularly well this morning and had continued longer than expected. So long, she hadn’t gotten lunch, but she could eat later. She’d tossed and turned the previous night until she’d put her mind in sleep mode. It wasn’t the same as actually sleeping, but at least it shut off her thoughts.

What did the doctor want with her? She’d met him during Charlie’s crisis, mostly because he’d always been somewhere near Charlie’s room when she showed up. Was his constant presence because he was taking extra special care of Charlie after his near-death experience?

That had to be it. Most clinic patients weren’t all that ill. Medical emergencies were farmed out to level one trauma centers in nearby McLean, Virginia or another metropolitan area. While the infirmary did have isolation rooms, in case personnel were exposed to something best quarantined at Langley, insofar as she could tell those rooms had been empty during Charlie’s stay. Except for the one he was in. Not that he had anything contagious, but he’d been quite a handful after a Cortexiphan infusion nearly killed him.

She stopped in front of the infirmary. It was quarter past twelve, and she hoped she wasn’t too late. He’d said around noon, which could mean a lot of different things.

I have to get over apologizing until I discover if one is needed, she lectured herself, wishing she had some of Charity’s abrasiveness.

A palm plate and a retinal scanner graced the doorjamb, but neither unlatched the lock when she tried them. She’d tripped the locks with kinetics when she came to visit Charlie, but didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot today. Stepping closer, she pushed the buzzer.

“State your business,” a tinny female voice said.

“I was supposed to be here at noon,” Faith replied.

“For what?” the voice prodded.

Oh yeah, that would be important, huh? Faith’s face warmed with embarrassment.

“I have an appointment with Dr. Thomas.”

“Just a moment.”

The crackling, hissing speaker quieted. Rather than it coming back online, the door made a buzzing sound as the lock disengaged.

Faith shouldered her way inside and stood in the familiar foyer, waiting. She had no idea where Dr. Thomas would be meeting her. The clinic held a utilitarian aspect. No cushy furniture here. No dog-eared magazines. The pungent smell of antiseptic burned her nostrils, and a row of card table chairs lined one wall. Perhaps because it was the noon hour, the reception area was devoid of people.

She clasped her hands behind her back, still scanning the no-frills waiting room and sent her kinetics zinging wide to figure out if anyone was here besides whoever had buzzed her in. Several people worked behind walls on both sides of the room she stood in. Others were on the upper two floors. She located Dr. Thomas easily enough, grateful when his energy moved toward her. She’d begun to wonder if he’d forgotten about his invitation from the previous evening.

It was a possibility, given how busy he was.

His unique emanations grew closer. He had to be in the stairwell she’d always taken to get to Charlie’s room on the second floor. Sure enough, the door opened, and he strode through. His teal smock and white lab coat were splattered with blood, its distinct metallic scent sharp in her sensitive nostrils.

“Faith.” His deep, rich voice did funny things to her stomach. “Sorry I’m late and didn’t have time to grab a clean coat. Got caught up in a last minute surgery.”

“It’s fine. I was late too.” She squeezed her clasped hands tighter together, waiting to see why she’d been summoned.

“Follow me back upstairs,” he said. “We’re meeting in my office.” Without waiting for her assent, he turned and opened the stairwell door, holding it for her. Once she was through, he moved past her and hurried up the stairs. “Hope you don’t mind,” he called over a shoulder, “but I ordered lunch for us. Only chance I’ll get to eat today, and I figured the same might be true for you.”

Faith emerged on the third floor, a part of the infirmary building she’d never seen beyond the building’s schematics that lived in her database brain. The doctor turned hard right and went to the end of the hall. Just like the outside door, his office had dual scanners.

“Why both palm and retinal security here?” she asked.

“Everyone who works here has palm access,” he said. “The retinal scanner mounted by this door only admits me, and I can disable the hand plate if I want to keep everyone else out.” He held the door for her, waiting. “Rank has a few privileges. Not many, mind you.”

Faith walked into a spotless office. So spotless it didn’t appear anyone ever worked here. Books, file folders, and file boxes lined shelves built into one wall. A computer terminal with dual monitors and two printers stood on an enormous desk that took up a third of the floor space. Degrees decked another wall, interspersed with certificates from the military and the CIA. What looked like a miniature lab sat against the back wall complete with a microscope, test tube rack, and clipboards.

“Your office is so…organized.” Faith bit hard on her lower lip. How he kept his workspace was none of her concern.

“Not always. Actually, I just cleaned it late last night. Yesterday, even clerical was complaining about having to wend their way through stacks of books, journals, and stray papers.”

Not sure what an appropriate response would be, she asked, “Where do you want me to sit?”

“Right there.” He pointed at one of two chairs turned to face each another. A small, round table sat off to one side. “Our lunch should arrive presently. I hope ham and Swiss on wheat is acceptable.”

“Sure. I eat almost anything. They starved us in the compounds. Teaches you not to be picky.” Faith felt like she was babbling, so she sat down fast and folded her hands in her lap.

“Thanks for arranging your schedule to accommodate mine on such short notice.” He took the seat across from her. “What I’d like to talk with you about is spending at least half your work hours here.” He held up a hand. “Hear me out, please, before you ask questions.”

Faith nodded, and he continued. “Frank and Tony brought up some very interesting points after they saved Charlie’s life—a feat neither my skill nor my training could accomplish. I’d like to figure out a way to create a safer, easier injection series for our agents. I’d also like to modify the Cortexiphan so it could be used to augment the benefits from those injections. Minus the harsh side effect profile”

“That’s all fine and well,” Faith cut in when he stopped to take a breath, remembering too late he’d said to hold her questions. “Never mind,” she said. “Sorry. I was supposed to wait.”

“No. It’s all right. What were you going to say?”

She took a deep breath. It might be cutting off her nose to spite her face, but she had to be honest. “I’m not a geneticist like Frank or Tony. Those are worthwhile projects, but don’t you think you’d be better served with one of them working here?”

“They’re already knee-deep in both those projects. Generally in science, a two-pronged approach delivers the most robust results. We’ll take what comes from their lab, compare and contrast it with what emerges from this lab, and create the safest, most effective products possible.”

Faith licked her lips. Being this close to Dr. Thomas did strange things to her insides. They felt light and fluttery. A knock on the door almost sent her hurtling out of her seat.

“Come in,” Dr. Thomas called.

The door opened, and a smiling orderly—or maybe he was a nurse—delivered two brown paper sacks, dropping them on the table next to her chair. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, John. What do I owe you?” The doctor stood and dug a wallet out of the back pocket of his scrubs.

“Ten bucks.”

Dr. Thomas extracted a bill, and the other man took it and left. “Feel free to begin,” he told Faith. “I’m going to wash up and get out of these blood-stained scrubs.” He hustled through the door that hadn’t fully closed.

Faith stared after him, wanting him to come back, but then she got hold of herself and grabbed one of the lunch bags. Better to eat than to moon over the impossible. She hadn’t found much during last night’s hacking session in the personnel database, but that didn’t mean the doctor was single. He might have a love interest he wasn’t married to.

Unwrapping her sandwich, she began to eat. She’d promised herself to stop if she unearthed a wife while hacking, but there hadn’t been one. About all she’d found were his illustrious school transcripts and degrees, his military deployments and decorations, and records from him being wounded and transferred to a VA hospital before he went to work for the CIA two years ago. If he had a family, and he damn near had to, there’d been no mention of it.

The door latch clicked before Dr. Thomas swept back into the room wearing a clean lab coat and scrub top. “Thank God for laundry, huh?” He made a grab for the other lunch bag, extracted his sandwich, and took a couple bites, chewing and swallowing. “One of the worst parts of field deployments is getting back into the same stinky, putrid clothes every single day. The nose adapts, but the spirit doesn’t.”

Faith smiled. He had an easy way about him that put her at her ease. “This is a good sandwich. Thank you for thinking of me.”

“You’re welcome.” He pulled a can of soda from his bag and popped the tab, taking a long drink.

“Back to your job offer,” she said. “I don’t have anything by way of scientific training. I’m not sure what I could do to be helpful. In truth, I’d be dead weight until someone trained me—and I downloaded relevant data into my brain.”

He sent a speculative glance skittering her way. “You just nailed it with your download comment. You’d learn very fast because of how your mind is configured. Much faster than a normal human beginning at ground zero.”

“Why not use one of the other Nameless Ones?” she persisted. “We just got a bunch of guys who defected. Maybe one of them has lab experience.”

“Faith.” He set his soda on the table. “Would you like to spend about four hours a day working for me? Before you answer, it’s a simple question and has nothing to do with the qualifications you believe you lack.”

She swallowed around a suddenly dry throat and pulled her own can of soda out of her bag. “Uh, not sure, sir. What would happen to the women assigned to me?”

“I’d cover that ground with Milton. He’s the original solution guy. I’ve seen him pull off amazing feats with a paperclip and a hand grenade. That’s not the question, though.”

Faith studied her lap as she ran probabilities. Could she work here and rein in her attraction for the man seated across from her? What if something slipped out and embarrassed the holy hell out of her? More to the point, did she want to learn the particular skillset he was offering?

The answer to the last question was a resounding yes, but the odds attached to the first two queries ran in the fifty-fifty range.

“Faith?”

She felt his shrewd green eyes studying her and mumbled, “I’m considering all the ramifications.”

“Would you care to share your thought processes—so I can understand how they work?”

“No,” she blurted and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”

His expression shifted, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “If I had the injection series and the Cortexiphan, I’d be able to gather the answers from your mind. Since I haven’t done either of those things, you need to talk with me.”

Thank fucking God you can’t read my thoughts.

She rode herd on her autonomic nervous system before she turned bright red. “Well, I am interested in learning more about the science that drives Frank and Tony’s research. It’s grounded in who I am and how my genome works. Who wouldn’t want to know more about those things?”

He angled his head to one side. “Is that a yes? Or a maybe?”

She tried not to smile, but felt the edges of her mouth curve into one despite her best efforts. “It’s a maybe-yes. Enough of a yes that you can talk with Milton and see if he’s even willing to spring me from my other duties.”

Dr. Thomas nodded solemnly. “I will. I appreciate you being open to trying something new. I believe we have a lot we can learn from each other.”

“Pfft.” She waved a dismissive hand. “You have plenty to teach me, but I’m just a woman from a compound. They liked us stupid—and went to great lengths to keep us that way.”

“No.” His voice was sharp. “You were smarter than the men, and they knew it. It’s why they were so hard on you.”

“Yeah, I understand all that, but it doesn’t make any of it easier or more palatable. Life in the compounds was hell for us women.”

He polished off the rest of his sandwich in a few quick bites, and she did the same. “Someday, I hope you’ll tell me about those compounds.”

“Why would you want to know?”

“Chalk it up to the scientist in me. Firsthand accounts are always more interesting than reading about things.” He looked at a bag of chips, made a face, and laid them aside.

“Don’t like potato chips?” she asked.

“Not particularly, but they’re good for extra calories, so I always order them.”

“And then don’t eat them.” Her eyes widened. “Aw geez. I’m sorry. You might be my boss, and that was way too casual, not to mention inappropriate.” Faith shook her head. “I’m still getting used to all the social rules normal humans have. It’s not easy.”

“No apology needed. Would you like to see where we’ll be working? I have a state-of-the-art lab one floor down. Got specialized funding from CDC during the last Ebola outbreak in Sub-Saharan Africa. They weren’t sure how many additional labs they might need that were iso-standard. Mine was, so I got the money and created the lab of my dreams.” He paused for a beat. “I’m ready for those Ebola samples, but at least so far, no one’s ever sent me any.”

Faith crumpled the paper that had held her sandwich and tossed it into a nearby waste can. “Sure. I’d love to see your lab. Now that you mention it, Frank and Tony were drooling over it after they synthesized that stuff they injected into Charlie. They’re still talking about all the bells and whistles you have that they want. Last time they requested some item—and justified the request by saying you had it—Milton told them to stuff it.”

Dr. Thomas laughed. “I can just see him doing that.” He stood and dropped the remains of his lunch in the trash too. “Shall we?”

“Sure, sir. I know roughly where we’re going, but I’ll follow you.”

“Drop the sir,” he said. “My name is Reg.”

She stopped dead. “I can’t call you by your first name. It’s not right.”

“You can and you will. Everyone else who works for me does.”

“They do not.” She stood straight. “I’ve heard them call you doctor and Doc Thomas.”

“And I correct them when I’m thinking about it.” He led the way out of his office, and she trotted after him.

Was she making a mistake? Her brain whirled feverishly with questions and probabilities as she went down the stairs and another long hallway to yet one more dually protected door. One thing was certain, Frank and Tony would be green with envy once they found out that she—a mere woman—had daily access to a lab they’d lay down their lives for.

“Ha!” she mumbled under her breath.

“Ha, what?” Dr. Thomas—Reg, she mentally corrected herself—asked without turning around.

“Nothing. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“I may not have your enhanced genetics—” he pulled the door open for her “—but I have very sharp ears.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Faith gazed around the lab. While she didn’t recognize most of its contents, every wall and alcove was bursting with equipment. She walked to one of the long walls and began reading labels, checking off the name of each item with the database in her mind. “It’s going to take me days to figure out what each of these things is.”

“But you know how to find those answers, right?” He’d closed the door, but he still stood next to it watching her.

“Oh sure.” She walked to another item and touched it. “All I have to do is look up the name for this in my head, and I can find out what it is and what it’s used for. When I need more information, I link to the CIA’s mainframe. It’s the same process as when you institute a search, except I’m doing it with my mind rather than a keyboard.”

“Excellent and precisely what I was hoping for. It’s almost one. Where do you need to be this afternoon?”

“That holodeck thing in the underground arena. We’ll be doing some simulated MMA scenarios.”

“You should get moving, or you’ll be late. Let me run interference with Milton, and I’ll get back to you with his answer.”

She should leave. She’d clearly been dismissed, but she couldn’t stop one word from escaping. “When?”

Rather than being annoying, her lack of control over her mouth seemed to amuse him. “As soon as I have an answer. Now get moving. You’ll have lots of time to catalog what’s in my lab next time you’re here.”

“How do you know there’ll be a next time?” Faith tossed her hands skyward. “Don’t mind me. I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this. I may not have been here long, but the CIA has taught me about protocol and manners and—”

“Go.” He made shooing motions with one hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

Faith spun, tugged the door open, and fled down the hallway, taking the stairs three at a time in her hurry to escape. She’d behaved abysmally, been forward, treated the doctor like a friend not a boss.

Yeah, the list is long.

The minute she was outside, she broke into a run, pushing hard. She’d made a fool out of herself. The next thing she’d hear from Dr. Thomas was that Milton said no. Hell, he’d probably never even talk with Milton. She’d proven herself way too high maintenance today. He was looking for a lab assistant, not someone to provide a running commentary on everything from soup to nuts.

Faith was so engaged in kicking herself, she ran right past the underground arena entrance and had to double back.

I have to get over myself right now.

Wiping her mind clean so none of the freak women would be able to read it, she waited for the elevator to drop her two hundred feet to their shielded practice arena. The end of today couldn’t come fast enough. She wanted to hide in her apartment, crawl into her bed, and pull the covers over her head.

Only reason he looks so good to me is because all my friends found someone special.

Fancy words. If I believed them—and I don’t—I could forget about Reg and move on.