“Can’t you sit still?”

Hicks shifted and the white paper lining the medical bench beneath him crinkled. Dr. Melissa Averton glared up at him over her thick plastic glasses. He offered her an apologetic grin. “I did sit still the first time, and the second time and the third time…”

He let his words trail off, allowing her to finish his sentence for him mentally.

She frowned and glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the wall. “Shoot, Hicks, I didn’t realize it was so late. You need to get some rest.” For Dr. Averton, “shoot” was probably some terrible obscenity, but it ranked about a one in ten on his scale. She straightened, lifting her needle away from the IV PICC she’d set up in his arm.

He had no intention of stopping her. They needed her genius mind to keep working—their lives very literally depended on it. “You and I both know I don’t need much sleep. I’d rather finish this tonight.”

And it was true, he didn’t require much rest. An endless supply of energy continuously regenerated by his DNA, which gave him the strength to stay awake three times longer than an average person. After volunteering for Project Mayhem, a once-certified, now-rogue operation under the control of the traitorous Gen. Rainier, Hicks had come out…changed. Not in any physically noticeable way, other than that he’d lost any excess body fat and packed on even more muscle.

No, the biggest difference was in his senses, which were honed into frighteningly high definition, and in his energy level.

Dr. Averton let out a long sigh, and he suddenly noticed the lines of fatigue and shadows hollowing out her cheeks. “I don’t think I’m the one that needs to rest, Doc,” he said kindly.

The first time he’d seen her, she’d had a broken arm and a few cracked ribs. The good old general had tried to take her out. The men of Mayhem must’ve had some luck left, because he hadn’t succeeded. Melissa was the only person who could save Hicks and his fellow guinea pig soldiers. The only one who could crack the code and make more of the serum that had made them this way. Because the changes were permanent—their very DNA had been recoded—but they’d die without continued injections of the serum. Melissa’s ultimate goal was to ensure they no longer needed it.

Reaper, Hicks’s team leader, had rescued his now-fiancée, Caroline, and Dr. Averton from the lab that had changed them. He’d also destroyed all of the general’s research and stolen his supply of serum, ensuring he’d have a difficult time creating more super soldiers.

“I’ll sleep when I crack the code.” She swiped at her smooth forehead with her free hand, pushing her dark, thick, brown hair out of the way. She was an attractive woman by anyone’s standards. And yet he’d always felt brotherly toward her. He wasn’t sure why.

“You’re not like the rest of us. If you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be able to help the team.”

In answer, she stuck her needle back into the IV and drew out another ball of blood from his arm. “And you and your team can’t have a real life until I figure out how to fix what Gen. Rainier and Dr. Winters did to you. If I could get my hands around her neck right now…”

“Seeing as how she’s already dead, that might be a tad bit hard to pull off,” Hicks said, his lips tipping into a smile.

She removed the tourniquet from his arm, grabbed a cotton ball from her examination table and held it over the spot where the IV needle punctured his skin. He watched as she withdrew the needle—barely a sting—yanked open a new box of Band-Aids and slapped a neon pink bandage on his arm.

Hicks arched a brow, “You do realize my entire team is made up of men, right?”

She at least had the grace to blush. “The drugstore was completely out of regular Band-Aids. It was either this or Cinderella.”

“Then I’d say you made the better choice.” What the hell was she doing running out to the drugstore anyway? She was the head researcher in this brand-new shiny lab provided by Tom Cotter’s money. In some ways, the senator was getting the last laugh. Gen. Rainier had killed him, yes, but Cotter had left his entire fortune to his daughters, Caroline and Nightshade, and the women had used their newly acquired wealth to buy this mansion, which had become the men’s new compound, and outfit the lab inside of it. “Can’t you hire an assistant or something to do that kind of stuff for you?”

Melissa carefully eased the vials of blood into a tiny tray filled with small vials. “I don’t know anyone I can trust with this. Gen. Rainier has his fingers in everyone’s pockets. The government. Private contractors. Foreign entities. I don’t think it’s safe to tell anyone what we’re doing here.”

Hicks raked his hand through his equally dark brown hair, which he’d let grow long in the past couple of months. It now hung almost to his ears. “We’ll find someone.”

“Hicks, I—” Dr. Averton’s words were cut off by a loud ring. She shoved her hand into the deep pocket of her white lab coat and pulled out her cell phone, frowning when she looked at the screen. “Whitney?”

Hicks slid off the bench and tugged on his T-shirt, pretending to give her some privacy while he secretly listened in on the conversation. He couldn’t really help it. His hearing was another thing that had been amped up by the change, and he could hear a woman’s frantic voice on the other end of the line. “Melissa, I didn’t know who else to call. Something’s very wrong. My car is gone and someone broke into my apartment. They might still be there.”

“Slow down,” Melissa said in a matter-of-fact voice, “you’re not making any sense.”

“Someone’s in my apartment!”

She’d shouted the words loud enough that Hicks could have heard them without his enhanced hearing.

“Where are you?”

I’m in the bathroom in the lobby of my building.”

Unable to keep quiet anymore, Hicks gently touched Melissa’s arm. “Who is that?”

She held the phone away from her mouth and said, “my sister.”

“Where does she live?” He and the other guys were practically imprisoned in their new home while Dr. Averton tried to figure out how to fix them. They decided to stay close to headquarters, but Hicks was sick and tired of staying put. He ached to do something, help someone.

“I—I’m not sure.” Melissa placed the phone back to her mouth and said, “Give me your address.”

“I live at the Q, 22 South Main.”

That was less than an hour away. Hicks was confident he could shorten the drive by a good fifteen to twenty minutes. He grabbed his holstered Beretta off the counter, where he’d placed it when he entered the lab and clipped it on to his belt. “Text me her number and tell her I’m on the way.”

“But Hicks, you shouldn’t leave—”

“I owe you. Plus, you can’t concentrate on your research if you’re worried about your family. I’ll take care of this for you. Trust me.”

Melissa hesitated for a second and then heaved a short sigh. “Take your dose of serum before you leave. Just in case.”

“I’m on it, boss.”

* * *

Hicks raced down the stretch of highway from their country estate into D.C. proper in the shiny new Dodge Viper provided by the doctor. He could’ve taken their standard issue Humvee or one of the new Jeeps parked in the huge garage, but whatever he ate, drank, and shit was Army issue, so driving a sweet piece of machinery like the 450 hp Dodge Viper was a freaking high-class dessert he was going to savor.

The fact that he was doing something to help Dr. Averton was the whipped cream and cherry topping.

She was working so hard to save them, and although Hicks had done everything he could to support her, he didn’t know diddly shit about formulas and serums in DNA. Give him a high-powered M50 with a digital scope and he could play it like a fiddle, but bullets didn’t help out in a lab. Most of the time he felt like a blundering bear around all that dainty research equipment. He knew the other guys felt the same way.

This was his first real opportunity to get out from the mansion turned prison and stretch his legs. Legs that required constant exercise. Ever since he’d taken his first dose of the experimental serum for Project Mayhem, he’d been restless.

He and the rest of the team had been caged like animals while the project scientists poked and prodded them and changed who they were. The moment they’d started protesting their inhumane treatment, they’d been locked up in glass cages.

And although they’d escaped and set up their own place, they still couldn’t leave…and not just to avoid Gen. Rainier’s spies, who were undoubtedly everywhere. There was a terrifying chance that they might lose control again.

One night in the secret government lab, he and the men had lost control—no, somehow, they’d been controlled—and he still didn’t know why or how. All he knew was that General Rainier and his lackeys had turned them into monsters as some sort of demonstration. The team had murdered innocents in a bloodthirsty rampage, only to snap out of the haze and stare around them in horror.

Whatever Gen. Rainier and the others had done to their DNA was beyond Hicks’s knowledge, but it terrified him to his very core. He terrified himself. He’d joined the service to save lives—not take them—and even though his actions had been out of his control that night, he’d still been the one to deliver the death blows to innocents.

He missed a good night’s sleep like he missed chocolate cake, but a big part of him was glad he couldn’t sleep. His dreams were full of the lifeless eyes and open-mouthed, silent screams of the technicians he and his men had murdered.

Fuck. He had to quit thinking about this shit before he contemplated suicide.

Hicks ripped his phone out and dialed his team leader, Reaper, to fill him in on the mission. Reaper answered, but Hicks could hear the distraction in his voice. “What?”

“Someone pulled a B&E at Dr. Averton’s sister’s apartment. I’m on the way to do a carryout. I should be back in a couple of hours.”

There was a long pause. “You left the compound?”

Hicks squeezed the phone in his palm, fighting off the wave of irritation. He’d known Reaper would be pissed. “Had to. Doc’s sister is in trouble.”

A loud groan sounded in the background on Reapers end of the line. “Fine, but we’re talking about this when you get back. Leaving the compound while Rainier’s out there is reckless. You’ve risked the team.”

“We owe Dr. Averton our lives, the least I could do is give her sister a ride.” But dammit that wasn’t the only reason he’d left. He was going crazy being kept caged inside, even if his cage was a mansion.

“We’ll talk later. Caroline’s gotten some kind of virus. Check in with me when you get back.” Reaper disconnected the call.

Hicks tossed his phone into the passenger seat, his excitement dulling.

Leaving the confines of their new headquarters might be a risk. They still didn’t know what had triggered them that night, whether it was a word or a sign or even a smell, but he had the soul of a soldier, and he wasn’t happy unless he had a fight.

When he’d overheard Melissa’s conversation with her sister, it had felt like a gift-wrapped package delivered straight into his hands. Maybe he could use this small excursion to test his control.

Besides, Dr. Averton was the only one who could fix them. He’d put all his faith in her; he didn’t have a choice. And if her family needed his help, by God, he’d lay his life on the line for any of them.

Hicks rolled his closed fist over the steering wheel and punched the gas, pushing the Prowler to its limits. The engine roared and thrummed to life underneath him, the rush of fuel propelling the car across the empty, dark road, just like the adrenaline in his veins kept him going. He needed this. He needed to get the hell out of his head and the hell out of that mansion and do some good.

And Whitney Averton was his ticket.