CHAPTER FIFTEEN
As Lara stood in the doorway of the hospital room, she envisioned the look on Damion’s face when he’d heard Chale was crashing, and her stomach knotted. She shouldn’t care about Chale—he was a GTECH. Damion was a GTECH. She was supposed to be their assassin, and they, as Renegades, were implicated in the murders of everyone she loved. Nothing she’d known to be the truth, up until the moment she’d met Damion, felt quite right. And she did care if Chale died.
She cared that it would be because of her, and she cared about how that would affect Damion, about how certain she was that it would hurt him deeply. It was time to face facts. She could reason away Damion’s protection of her, by way of them needing her, needing information she possessed, even if that didn’t feel quite right. Yet, a cold-hearted Renegade, a killer—as she thought all of them to be—wouldn’t be hurting like Damion was about someone close to them. Lara glanced down the sterile hospital corridor where medical personnel congregated, and without taking time to second guess herself, she rushed toward them, rather than trying to escape.
Footsteps sounded almost instantly behind her. “What happened?” Caleb asked, rushing to her side, Michael with him. “Where is everyone?”
Lara stopped walking and turned to them, surprised they didn’t grab her and haul her back to the room she’d departed. “Emma ran into the room and told us Chale was crashing, and they all took off.”
Caleb cursed softly and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. She saw the obvious angst in his face, before he and Michael exchanged a silent look. Caleb then rushed for the room where everyone had gathered, leaving her with Michael, who, she surmised, had been silently assigned the duty as her babysitter.
Michael glanced at her arm. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed? Or making a run for it?”
Yep. Definitely her babysitter. “I’m fairly good at doing exactly the opposite of what I’m supposed to do.”
He studied her with calculating, crystal blue eyes. “Then we have more in common than I first expected. Damion, on the other hand, believes in doing exactly what he’s supposed to do.”
“You say that like it’s a sin,” Lara replied.
“I say that like the fact that it is,” he said. “The rules are the rules with Damion. He doesn’t break them. Not for anyone. Yet he brought you here against orders. You might not realize how significant that is, but we do. And so does Damion.”
Her nerves prickled. “What are you accusing me of?”
“Nothing yet,” he said. “I’m reserving judgment on what I think about you until I have more details. But it’s fairly clear to me that either Damion has a strong reason for trusting you, or you have a real knack for manipulating him. You need to know right now that I plan to find out which it is before you hurt him or anyone else here.”
Lara studied him, this fierce male who controlled the wind like no other GTECH. Digesting the power of his statement, and how it conflicted with everything she thought of this man, and once again, the Renegades. Despite the threat in his words, she didn’t feel intimidated or afraid for one simple reason. He was telling her he would protect those he cared about, and that was something she understood, something she related to. “Then I guess it’s my turn to say we have more in common than I first expected,” she said softly. “Because I, too, will kill to protect those I care about, and those I’ve lost.”
“And you think we killed your family.”
“I guess I’m going to have to repeat your words once again. I’m reserving judgment. But if I find out you, or anyone else here, killed my family—I promise you, Michael—I don’t care how wicked your reputation with the wind. I’ll kill you.”
Voices sounded near the room, and they both turned to find Emma, Caleb, and Kelly stepping into the hallway, along with numerous other personnel who quickly scattered. Caleb motioned to Michael to follow him and the others down a hallway, even as Damion appeared in the doorway behind them.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” he demanded.
Lara took one look at the tightness of his jaw, the tension in his body, and she moved toward him, not waiting for an invitation. “How’s Chale?”
“I’m just as fine as you are,” Chale yelled from the room. “At least that’s what Suzie told me last night.”
Lara stopped in front of Damion, who was shaking his head at Chale’s remark. “Try to ignore his misplaced, rarely funny, sense of humor.” He then called over his shoulder. “And you’re not fine, damn it. You almost died twice today.” Then to Lara, “I have to wait for Emma to sit with him. But you need to get back in bed before you fall down.”
After hours of touching him, depending on him, it was all she could do not to reach out and touch him now, to comfort him. She sidestepped him and entered the room, half expecting him to stop her, but he didn’t. Instead, she heard Caleb and Michael speaking to him, murmuring something she didn’t understand. She was by the bathroom, about to enter the main room, when black spots splattered in her vision. A sudden flash of images in her head had her swaying, and Lara grabbed the door frame, trying to force away a sudden piercing pain between her eyes. She blinked and shook her head, thankfully regaining her composure with ease, and then walked toward Chale.
The minute he saw her, he cursed. “Damn. I hate when people see me without my hair fixed.” He was pale, his body shivering like he was cold.
“Stop joking around,” Damion chided brusquely, joining them, his shoulder brushing Lara’s as they stopped at the edge of the bed. “There is nothing funny about what’s happening here.” Damion glanced at Lara. “And I told you… you should be in bed.”
“Surely you have a better pickup line than that one, man,” Chale chided, and then moaned with pain before coughing.
Lara rushed toward the water pitcher and poured some in a paper cup. Damion came up beside her, their glances momentarily meeting, before he took the cup and handed it to Chale, who gulped it down and then tossed the cup toward a trash can.
“Did they teach you bedside manners in assassin school?” Chale asked, eying Lara.
“I wasn’t aware I had one,” she said, her lips lifting slightly.
“You aren’t trying to kill me,” Chale said. “That sounds like a pretty good bedside manner to me.”
“Wait until she decides to kick you or bite you,” Damion offered with a smile. “Then you’ll change your mind.”
Suddenly, Chale’s eyes were shut, and Lara sucked in a breath. “Damion?”
“He’s asleep,” he said. “The Green Hornets shredded so much muscle and tissue that his body is working harder than usual to heal.”
She wanted to ask more about the healing sickness, but didn’t dare show her ignorance—at least not before she decided exactly how she felt about the Renegades.
“The sudden slumber is his body’s way of demanding energy to heal,” he continued, “which is exactly why you need to get some sleep.”
Lara sat down in the bluish-green, hospital-style recliner. “I’ll rest here, where I can keep an eye on you.”
He arched a brow. “You’re keeping an eye on me?”
“That’s right.” Her body relaxed into the cushions, reminding her how bone-weary she really was. “Got a deck of cards?”
“A deck of cards?”
She grimaced. “You know… cards. Kings, queens, jokers. That’s what people do to pass time. They play cards.” A sudden sense of confusion hit her. Why did she know that? Where had that statement come from when she didn’t remember ever playing cards in her life? A flash of a man she knew to be “Skywalker” rushed through her mind, of him shuffling at their kitchen table, of her sitting across from him. She sucked in a breath at the vivid image, at the emotion that welled in her chest.
“What is it?” Damion said. He was kneeling beside her, with his hand on her leg—but she didn’t remember him moving.
She blinked into his hazel eyes and wanted so desperately to tell him what she’d seen, what she felt, what she feared—that she wasn’t who she thought she was, that Powell wasn’t who she thought he was, that she wasn’t really the good guy in all this. “I want to trust you, Damion,” she admitted. “I do, but—”
“No buts,” he said. “I trusted you by bringing you here when Caleb forbade it, for fear you were trying to infiltrate our operation. I listened to my instincts and took a risk. Now it’s your turn. Take a risk, and trust me, Lara.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Who said anything about easy?”
Her gaze dropped to his hand on her leg, and she wondered at how right it felt there, how right his touch felt. Only a short while before, this man would have been her enemy. And maybe he still was, but no… he didn’t feel like her enemy. She inhaled and lifted her gaze to his. “This really isn’t even about trust, Damion. I just don’t know what’s real anymore. I have these memories surfacing, like pieces of my past that conflict with the past I know. I… can’t even remember what my parents looked like, and… I keep remembering two different names.” Was her last name Martin or Mallery?
“What names?” he prodded.
“My names.”
He grabbed the stool and sat down, before rolling close to her again. “Lara isn’t your name?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head and feeling suddenly sick. What if she found out horrible things about herself that made Damion hate her? “Yes… no. I don’t want to talk about this.”
He rested his palms on his thighs and considered her a long moment. “You’re afraid of what you’re going to find out about yourself, aren’t you?”
Her chest tightened, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, her eyes prickled. “Wouldn’t you be if you were me?”
“Of course,” he said, surprising her with his honesty, and earning more of her trust. “I’d want to know the truth before anyone else did. There’s no reason that can’t happen. But you have to let Kelly run her tests and rule out any other cause for the mixed memories. Make sure it’s not physical. Then, let her help us figure out how to separate truth from fiction.”
“I already feel like someone has been in my head messing around, Damion,” she admitted. “How am I ever going to know fact from fiction, if I allow someone else to do the same? I need to think about this.” She reminded herself that his willingness to let her decide didn’t mean he was honorable. She had every reason until today to believe the Renegades had killed her parents and had lured her father into a web of trust, and then murdered him. To dismiss those concerns would be as foolish as ignoring that they might not be reality.
Damion seemed to read her expression, her caution, and he sighed heavily, then rolled to the edge of the bed and pushed an intercom button. “Anyone got a deck of cards?”
She softened inside at his actions, at his understanding—that he’d pushed her as far as he could and should back off. She didn’t want his actions to be a form of manipulation that somehow replaced torture. She wanted it to be real—she wanted this growing bond she felt with Damion, the only thing that felt certain and real, to really be sincere. Please, please, don’t be the enemy, Damion. But then, if he wasn’t the enemy, what did that make Powell, or even herself?
Damion laid down his cards on the rolling table that he and Lara had stolen from near the bed almost an hour before. “Straight flush,” he announced and wiggled an eyebrow. “I win again. That’s four straight hands, but who’s counting?”
“Apparently you,” Lara said, tossing down her cards. “Shuffle, and let’s go again.”
Another two hands later, she threw down her losing cards and ran her hand through her hair. He loved her hair, so soft, like silk against his skin.
“You know,” she continued with a glower. “It wouldn’t hurt you to let me win a few hands.”
“You get what you get honestly with me,” he said softly, a hidden meaning in his words. He wanted Lara—wanted her in a bad way, in a way he’d never wanted a woman before. A way that defied the possibility that she was the enemy, that she’d unlock her memories and neither of them would like what was discovered.
She grimaced, when he’d expected something a little more intimate in reply. “Oh good grief,” she chided. “That’s exactly what Skywalker used to say and…” She paled and swallowed hard.
He stilled, his gaze searching her face, noting the instant distress in her eyes. “Who’s Skywalker, Lara?” She squeezed her eyes shut, and Damion shoved the table out from between them and rolled closer, taking her hand in his. “Talk to me, Lara. Tell me about Skywalker.”
“I don’t know,” she said, forcing heavy-lidded eyes open. “Someone who keeps finding his way into my thoughts, when… when…” She pressed her lips to his.
Heat rushed through him, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and kissing her. Her arms snaked around his neck, her tongue reaching for his in hungry reply that threatened his restraint. “If this is your way of avoiding my questions,” he said, his lips lingering over hers. “It’s a pretty damn good strategy.”
“It’s not that,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his as if she needed another taste of him. God, she was driving him wild. “When you kiss me,” she panted. “I—”
He framed her face with his hands and leaned back to study her. “You what?”
“I—”
“How’s Chale doing?” Kelly asked, rushing into the room for the second time since they’d started playing cards.
Lara pulled back from Damion, as if burned, and he silently cursed Kelly’s timing. He wanted to know what Lara had been about to explain. Not only had he missed out on what was sure to be another kiss, he was pretty confident he had been about to make a breakthrough with her, that she would have opened up to him.
“He’s sleeping soundly,” Damion said, reluctantly turning to Kelly. “No signs of distress since you checked in earlier.”
“Excellent,” she said. “His vitals are strong and the worst is over.” She rolled a blood pressure machine toward them before shooing Damion off her rolling stool. “Let me sit down and check the patient I’m really here to see.”
He stood up and gave her the seat. “Her head hurts,” he told Kelly, and when Lara opened her mouth to object, he said, “You furrow your brow when you’re fighting the pain.”
“Is that right?” Kelly asked. “Your head still hurts?”
Looking busted and surprised at his observations, Lara conceded. “Yes. It hurts.”
“Lean down, and let me find the location of your injury,” Kelly ordered.
Lara bent over and let Kelly check her scalp. “It’s fine.” Lara straightened, and Kelly gave her a puzzled look. “Describe the pain.”
“A dull throb that worsens whenever I have flashes of images.”
“Memories,” Damion supplied.
Lara glanced at him and then back at Kelly. “I don’t know.” She sounded frustrated and a bit defeated, but no longer on guard. “I just really don’t know much of anything right now.”
Kelly pursed her lips. “You do know that the only time GTECHs get headaches is when they’re vitamin C deficient, right? And let me have your arm so I can take your blood pressure.”
“Honestly,” Lara confessed, offering her arm to Kelly and obviously trying not to look at Damion. “I’ve never heard of this vitamin C thing that Damion told me about.”
“Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “Adam isn’t exactly one to tell a woman anything but to bend over and pant.”
Damion and Lara shared a shocked look, and he almost choked on a bark of laughter. “I do believe you’ve been around too many soldiers for too long, Doc. You’re starting to sound like one of the guys.”
“Sorry, Lara,” Kelly said with a shrug. “But I’ve got fifty women here who endured hell from that man in his sex camps, Emma included. It’s hard not to get a little bitter about it.” She released the cuff on Lara’s arm. “Your blood pressure and your heart rate are fine. And no, you’re not vitamin C deficient, and nothing is off in your blood work. So if you aren’t willing to do the CT scan right now, which I know you aren’t, then you need to rest—as in a good twelve to fifteen hours of healing sleep—and then we’ll reevaluate. There are a few other tests we could try. A brain wave test might give us a clue as to any irregular activity. But right now, you need sleep to heal. And eat.” She pushed to her feet and eyed Damion. “Feed her, and then get her to bed.” She glanced at Lara. “I don’t think you need to stay here in the hospital, but you shouldn’t be alone either.”
Damion’s eyes met Lara’s. “She won’t be,” he assured Kelly, fully intending to keep her close in his room. He wanted this woman, wanted her beyond reason, beyond the risk that she might still prove to be an enemy. “I plan to take care of her.”
And he did. In his private quarters, where she could finish telling him exactly what his kiss did to her in vivid, intimate detail. Though he was prepared to be a gentleman and sleep on the couch while Lara claimed his bed, he’d much rather be in it with her. To hell with examining right from wrong and consequences.
A sudden rush of nerves and anxiety hit Lara as Kelly exited the room.
“The doctor has spoken,” Damion said. “Let’s get out of here and grab some food and shut-eye.”
“And go where?” Lara asked, pushing to her feet, the not knowing killing her. Nothing was stable, nothing was controllable. It was driving her crazy.
“You can’t be alone, so either you come back to my quarters with me, or you stay here in a hospital room.”
And she knew what would happen in his quarters. She’d end up in bed with him. She knew it. He knew it. She’d never keep an objective mind if she slept with this man. “I don’t want to leave the hospital.”
“All right then,” he said, after a long pause. “I’ll get you some food, and then you can head back to your room.”
“Where I’ll have a guard at my door.”
“You’ll have me in your room.”
“Because I’m a prisoner.”
“You’ve vowed to kill all Renegades. We’d be foolish to leave you unattended.”
He was right. He couldn’t leave her unattended. She wouldn’t leave her unattended. But the idea of being here, where anyone could walk in on her while she slept… “And if I go back to your quarters with you?”
“I’m not going to tie you to my bed, if that’s what you’re asking. Not unless you want me to, that is.”
“I don’t,” she said quickly, but the ache that tingled in her breasts at his words defied her statement.
“I guess that means I should take the deck of cards with us.” He motioned to the clock. “It’s nearly two in the morning. I’m starving, and I know you have to be. So why don’t we go find some food, and then you can decide between the hospital or my room?”
“Yes, please,” Chale murmured, pushing to a sitting position. “Go get some food, and send some my way while you’re at it.”
Lara glanced at Chale and then at Damion, and suddenly, all the tension inside her faded into unexpected, much-needed laughter. “I guess this means he’s feeling better.”
“He’s feeling hungry,” Chale provided. “I want three cheeseburgers from Joe’s.”
Lara’s gaze caught on Damion’s, warmth shimmering between them with undeniable distinction. Chale wanted dinner, and she and Damion wanted each other. The question was—was she willing to allow their desire to turn into reality?
Fifteen minutes later, Lara sat across from Damion at a table inside “Joe’s Burgers,” after they’d had Chale’s food delivered via one of the hospital staff. “I can’t believe you have an entire city underground,” Lara said, marveling at the twenty-four-hour diner that sat in the middle of what appeared to be a sleepy town square, complete with every kind of shop and restaurant she could imagine. “How long has this been here?”
“You’ve really never been to Zodius City, have you?”
“Not that I remember,” she said solemnly, honestly. “At this point, I can’t say anything for certain.”
“Including that the Renegades killed your family?”
“Including that,” she agreed, somehow unable to even want to keep her guard up with Damion.
The awareness ever-present between them snaked a circle of silence around them, simmering in expansion, before Damion said, “Then tell me who you’re working for.”
“Not yet,” she said. “I can’t.”
“So you admit it’s not Adam?”
She wanted to say yes—damn it—she wanted to say yes to the point that she all but screamed it out, but she couldn’t betray Powell. He’d saved her life, and so far, that memory remained true in her mind. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said, going into avoidance mode. “How long has Sunrise City been here?”
He sat there, his face expressionless for long seconds, before he snagged a fry and rolled it in ketchup. “We started building it right after Adam took over Area 51. Like I said back at the cabin, we have schools and about anything else that’s needed to give the humans, and even the GTECHs here, a chance at a normal life. At least, the façade of one, which is a little piece of sanity we all need now and then.”
“Even you?”
He finished off a fry, having already downed three burgers to her one. “The army is as normal as things have ever been for me.”
“Where’s your family?”
“My father and younger brother are dead. My older brother and mother—well, the less they know about me, generally the safer they are.” He brushed his hands together, and the air prickled with his discomfort, with the sound of an invisible door being shut. “I’m about done. How about you?”
She hesitated, a bit taken aback by his brisk shift of subject and mood. She searched his face, remembering that moment when she’d been naked on top of him, when he’d told her he was good at taking the blame—when she’d felt his pain like her own. He wasn’t some nameless Renegade to her anymore. He was a man, and she wanted to know what made him hurt like that, what still made him hurt like that. God, she didn’t want to be his enemy, and she didn’t want him to be hers. She didn’t want to be the reason he hurt more than he already had. She saw it in his eyes, and she realized now, she’d tasted it in every kiss they’d shared.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’m done.”
“So what will it be?” he asked softly. “Back to the hospital or to my quarters?”
She knew her answer, and she saw in his eyes that he knew too, that they’d both never questioned where they were headed.