The Savior
There was another question.
Another answer.
The boy looked down at the quilt that had been pulled over his little body. As he began to cry, the man seemed exactly as heartbroken as Sarah felt.
The commando took the child into his strong arms and held him.
As those oddly glowing eyes lifted to Sarah over the boy’s dark head, she put her hand over her mouth. And wondered exactly how much more anyone that young could take.
Hell, most adults couldn’t handle half of what he’d lived through already. It was so unfair for anything to be added to his burdens.
“—about to go through the change. So we need to get a Chosen here before day breaks just in case.”
Sarah frowned and glanced over her shoulder. The female commando was talking urgently into a cell phone.
Change? Sarah thought.
When the Brotherhood’s physician arrived ten minutes later, Murhder retreated to the kitchen so that “Doc Jane,” as the female was called, could sit with the young privately.
Dr. Sarah Watkins was alone at the table, the blue bag of that hazmat suit halfway off of her, a backpack set off to the side. She had a cup of coffee in front of her, her stare floating somewhere above the mug. As he entered the room, however, she looked up at him.
And kept looking.
Had she really wondered what he was like in bed? Holy shit, that was hot. And what do you know, his libido was demanding he take this opportunity to show her firsthand that yes, he’d always been good at sex, current two-decades-long mostly dry spell notwithstanding.
But instead of wading into naked waters, he said, “How you doing?”
“I can’t seem to get my brain to work,” she murmured. “It’s the strangest thing.”
He sat down across from her, and fought the urge to try to pull her into his lap so he could hold her. They were, after all, strangers.
“Totally understandable.” He attempted to make sure his tone was gentle because sometimes you could hug someone without touching them, right? “You’re not used to anything like tonight.”
“I’m just a scientist.” She leaned to the side, as if she were checking on the young in the front room. Then she looked back at the mug. “Or I used to be. After this, I don’t think anyone’s going to be hiring me. The whole breaking and entering thing, stealing information, going to the authorities—it’s kind of frowned upon on any résumé to Big Pharma.”
“No one is going to know about this.”
Her eyes shot back up. “Are you kidding me? Kraiten will cover up that secret lab and call the police.”
“No, he won’t.”
“No offense, but don’t be naïve. And besides, I’m going to turn everything over to the Feds. As soon as I finish this coffee, I’m calling the agent who came to see me two days ago.”
“Kraiten’s not going to be a problem anymore.”
“Exactly. Because I have proof of what was being done in that lab of his.” She shook her head. “And if I’m finished in my field, it’s fine. I’d lost my passion for the work anyway. Time for me to find something else to do with my life.”
He traced her face with his eyes. She had a little mole on her cheek. And flecks of green in those pale brown eyes. She had taken her hair out of its ponytail, and the naturally highlighted weight was spilling onto her shoulders.
She smelled like a summer meadow to him, and her voice was hypnotic. He literally could spend an entire night just watching her mouth enunciate random syllables, his ears full with the sounds she made, his skin prickling with sensual awareness of every minute move she made.
“What exactly do you do?” he blurted, aware he’d been silent for too long.
“I’m a molecular geneticist. I work on curing cancer using the body’s own immune system.” Her eyes swung back to him. “We need to tell that doctor what they did to him. And I have scan results and information on the protocols—granted, they’re from two years ago. But after I go to the Feds, I’m sure they can get the most recent studies. There must be records—I mean, I’m assuming they didn’t stop. They gave him terrible diseases and—”
“The doctor knows what they did to him.”
Dr. Watkins—Sarah—blinked. “Does she know about the woman fighter, too?” When he didn’t reply, she prompted, “She said they’d done it to her as well.”
“The doctor knows everything.”
“Is there any chance Kraiten’s illicit program is doing that to anybody else, somewhere else?”
Murhder thought about what he’d seen when he’d tapped into that CEO’s mind. “The young was the last one he had left. He’s been trying to get more but has failed.”
The woman tilted her head. “You have the strangest way of saying things. And that accent of yours. It’s not French, it’s not … well, I know it’s not German. What part of Europe are you from? My fiancé was from Hamburg.”
Murhder stiffened in his chair. “Fiancé? You’re engaged?”
Sorrow suffused her face. “Was. He passed.”
The fact that he was relieved made him feel like a total asshole.
“I offer my sincerest condolences at your loss.” He eased the tension in his body. “May I inquire what happened?”
She sat back in the chair. Pivoted to the side again to check on the young. “Where did the couple go?”
“I’m sorry?”
“The man and the woman who were here with you?”
Footsteps sounded overhead and Murhder looked up. “I guess they are settling in for the night.”
“Oh.” She put her hand on the backpack and went to stand up. “I need to make that call and get those files to the FBI.”
That cannot happen, he thought.
Murhder reached out and put his hand on hers. Instantly, a bolt of electricity rode up his arm … and continued on to places that had not been awake in a very, very long time.
“The doctor isn’t done yet,” he pointed out as he shifted in his own seat. “Let’s hold on until she’s finished in case she needs to ask us anything.”
The woman retracted her hand. Rubbed it on her thigh. Clearly, she had felt the connection, too: Her arousal scent flared, and it was heavenly in his nose, an erotic combination of bergamot and ginseng.
He wanted more of it. He wanted it all over his naked skin, as he entered her sex and felt her claw into his back—
Murhder ducked one hand under the table and discreetly rearranged the sudden and very inappropriate erection that had punched his cock into the fly of his pants.
“Why are you smiling?” she asked.
Because I didn’t know the damn thing still worked, he thought.
“I’m sorry.” He pushed his heavy hair back. “It’s nothing.”
“God, don’t apologize.” She sat down again. “I could use a good joke, that’s all. This has been a rough couple of days.”
Even though there was so much more to worry about, he found himself needing to know what was under the baggy blue plastic suit she had on. What her hair would look like fanned out over his bare chest. How she would sound as he pleasured her.