Harold Goddard, alias Mr. Smith, pounded the table in the control room. His anger surging, he whirled on one of the TV monitors and smashed the screen. His only accomplishment was cutting his hand. He drew it back, looking in shock at the blood welling up and running down his fingers. Shit. He’d done that to himself.
The realization increased his fury, but it also helped to ground him. He had to assume he was under attack from a group of men and women who had superhuman powers. He had to keep his cool. But what the hell was he supposed to do now? Against all odds, the invasion team had made it past the boat dock. They’d gotten into the house. They’d even defeated the psychic scrambler he’d installed out front. And before that, they’d taken out his surveillance system. Now he was Goddamn blind. He didn’t know how many of them were coming. He didn’t know who they were. He didn’t know what had happened to any of his men.
He tried to raise Lambert on the comms system. Nothing from him or anybody else.
He’d heard gunfire somewhere outside and then from his automatic system at the patio door. But they must have gotten past it because the system in the hall had also triggered. Then nothing. And no one who had gone out had come back.
He tried once more to raise the men he’d sent to the dock. Again nothing. A while ago, he’d heard a pop from one of the land mines he’d activated on the back lawn—followed by silence.
Maybe it had gotten some of the invading deviants. But others were definitely in the house. How many? And had the hallway blast gotten them?
He spared precious moments to stick a thumb drive in the computer and download all his important files. Then he checked to make sure his Glock was in the appendix holster. It hadn’t disappeared since he’d felt for it the last time.
Where were the bastards now? Should he stay here? Or try to go out the front? He pressed a hand to his temple. His mind felt muzzy, like someone was pumping nitrous oxide into the air. Sort of like he’d done at Olivia Langston’s house. But that was impossible. There had been no time for anyone to set up anything like that.
With effort, he steered his jumbled thoughts back to his best tactic now. Was the safe room his best bet? If he locked himself in there, could they get to him? Or would that just be delaying capture for a few minutes?
Cautiously, he stepped out of the control room and saw—a ghost.
His eyes almost bugged out of his head as he focused on the stunning visage of Olivia Langston. But it couldn’t be her. She was dead. He must be making it up. A jolt of fear stabbed him like a red-hot blade. Or was somebody making him see things that weren’t there?
Ordering himself to stay calm, he studied her image. Her long auburn hair streamed back from her face as though she were the figurehead on the prow of a boat racing through the waves. Her skin was as white as marble, her white gown rippled around her legs, and she carried the scent of the sea with her as though she’d risen from the deep to come back and haunt him.
“No,” he gasped.
When she said nothing, he managed, “They drowned you.”
“Yes,” she answered in a serene and even voice. “A very painful death it was. Think about your lungs bursting with the need for air. And when you finally have to drag in a breath, there’s nothing there but water. Have you ever swallowed wrong? Of course you have. It hurts when you have to cough that little bit of liquid up. Think about how much worse it must be to drown.”
He shuddered, imagining the pain of her death. Yet she was standing in front of him, talking like a living, breathing woman. Somehow, she must be making his fogged brain believe something that wasn’t true. Raising his chin, he asked, “Then how are you here?”
“I came back for retribution. You almost got Matt Delano and Elizabeth Forester in the bayou. And before that, Stephanie Swift and Craig Branson. But they all got away. Some genius mastermind you are.”
The slur hurt. Pressing his back against the wall, he growled, “And how would you know that?”
Instead of answering, she asked her own question. “How many people have you killed recently? Travis Carson. Gabe Bowman, me? Anybody else?”
He struggled to keep himself from shaking. The only way he could stand was to lock his legs. She couldn’t be here. It was impossible. It had to be a trick. She must be alive. Which meant he could kill her.
Christ, what was he thinking—standing here talking to her? He could kill her.
With a trembling hand, he reached for the gun, but something froze his muscles. He couldn’t free the weapon from the holster.
“Oh, sorry. It looks like you can’t move, like when you had me strapped to that table with my hands manacled,” she said. “How do you like it?”
He tried to speak, but no words came out. His chest was so tight he could hardly breathe.
“Why have you gone after the children from Dr. Solomon’s experiment?” she asked.
Suddenly, the power of speech returned, but not the power to move. “Because you’re dangerous,” he shot back. “You’re proving it now. I was so right to keep you drugged.”
“All we want is to be left alone.”
“And alligators can fly.”
“Where do you keep your information on the children?”
He didn’t speak, but her gaze shot to his pocket. Reaching out she removed the thumb drive and closed her fist around it.
“Do you have paper records?”
He pressed his lips together. But he couldn’t stop the image of the filing cabinet in his office from leaping into his mind.
“And now I know you’d like to get away from me,” she soothed. “Go on. I’ll give you a chance to escape my evil magic. Go out the back. If you can get down to the river, you can make your escape that way.”
For a moment, he thought that was a stupid plan. Escape how? But the image fixed itself in his mind. Along with the urgent need to get away from her.
He didn’t wait for her to say more. He dashed toward the back door, heading for the river. And as he ran, too late, he remembered that he’d salted the lawn with land mines—which he’d activated from the house. One had even gone off. But only one. There were a dozen more. Oh God, no. He couldn’t remember where they were. He slowed down, moving more cautiously now. But he had to keep going. He had to get to the river. His escape boat was at the dock. Wait—was it? It didn’t matter. He’d swim if he had to.
Gabe moved up beside Olivia, who was now trembling with reaction. The illusion of her ghost costume and the wind effects were gone, and she was dressed in the dark shirt and pants she’d worn for the raid.
“Good job,” he whispered.
She leaned into him, overwhelmed by her own performance.
That was Oscar-worthy.
Thanks.
From outside the house, they heard an explosion. Turning, they started toward the door, Gabe leading the way because Travis knew where the mines were planted.
They saw Smith’s crumpled body. Or part of it. The leg with the foot that hit the device was missing, and blood poured from his femoral artery.
The man was moaning, gasping, crying out for help, sounding weaker by the second. Then the voice stopped, and there was only silence.
“We’d better get the records from the office, then get out of here,” Rachel said. “It’s only a matter of time before the police show up.”
Gabe led them to the office, since Travis had explored the house while the others had been in captivity.
They grabbed the pertinent files and stuffed them into the pack Jake was carrying.
As they reached the front door, Rachel held up a hand. The psychic scrambling…thing…could still be working.
She heard muttered curses behind her.
Are you still there? She sent to Craig and Stephanie.
Yes. Thank God you’re okay, Craig answered. What happened? We could follow some of the action. But not all of it.
Tell you later. Can you see or feel anything that might be projecting the anti-psychic field out there?
Yeah, we’ve been studying the house. I think I see something along the eaves. And something else in the shrubbery, but we didn’t want to take a chance on going after them in case someone figured out what we were doing and came charging out with guns.
There’s nobody left to come out. Blast them, Rachel ordered.
Craig and Stephanie did as requested, and Gabe heard a sizzling noise and smelled charred wiring.
After taking a cautious step outside, Rachel beckoned to the others, Let’s split.
They all headed for the SUV down the road. It was a tight fit, but they managed to pile in, with Jake driving again. As they made for Route 50, they heard sirens.
Jake laughed. “A day late and a dollar short.” He added, “I think we’re all too tired to go very far. I made reservations at the Historic Inns of Annapolis. We can treat ourselves to some major coddling.”
As they approached the bridge, Rachel said, “I know we’re all on our last legs, but I need one more thing from you. Give me energy, like we did when we snuck up on the murder boat. We need to disable the camera and plate reader at the toll booth so nobody knows we were here.”
They all joined in the stealth operation, erasing any evidence that they had been on the Eastern Shore.
Completely wiped out, Olivia dozed off on the way to Annapolis. She opened her eyes as they pulled up at the hotel complex. But she was still on the wrong side of coherent.
Jake went in and registered for the group, collecting room keys. The complex had several buildings. Gabe grabbed his and Olivia’s bags and led her along State Circle toward an imposing red brick building with a high-pitched roof sporting several dormer windows. As they made their way along the brick sidewalk, she found herself waking up to the reality of what came next. The closer they got to the entrance, the more her stomach knotted and her nerve endings sizzled. She stole a quick glance at Gabe, but his gaze was fixed on the looming building, and his thoughts were sealed away from her.
After he unlocked the front door, she followed him down a short hall to their room. It turned out to be a small suite decorated in colonial style with dark wood furniture and formal draperies. Beyond the parlor was a bedroom with a king-sized bed and a luxury modernized bathroom.
Gabe focused on the king-sized bed. “You probably need to sleep,” he said. “I can take the sofa out here.”
“No,” she said, closing the distance between them and grasping his arm. Her touch made him jump, then turn slowly to face her. She lifted her chin so that she could meet his eyes.
“I’m not going to push you into anything,” he continued. “I know you need time to adjust to…” He stopped and shrugged. “If you can adjust,” he added, his tone barely audible.
“Don’t,” she said.
“Don’t what?”
“Put up barriers between us.”
He kept his tone even. “I’m not…the man you fell in love with.”
“Yes, you still are, and a lot more.”
When he stayed where he was, she took a step toward him, knowing she had to be the one to prove the point. When she was only inches away, she reached for him, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close, reveling in the feel of his solid masculine body. When she had gotten close to Travis, she had longed for this kind of physical contact. Now she had it.
He stood for long moments, as though he were simply enduring her attentions. Then his arms came up to embrace her, and she let out the breath she’d been holding.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
He cleared his throat. “Before we go any further…if we go any further, you need to know what you’re getting into.”
She answered with a small nod.
His next words were not spoken aloud. I’m Gabe Bowman. I have all his memories, all his skills, and all his aspirations. But I’m also Travis Carson. I have his memories and his skills. He swallowed. And his needs and desires. He found you when he was lost. You brought him back to life, and you bonded like the other couples who were children of the Solomon clinic. You’re still bonded. Only Gabe Bowman is part of that equation now.
Stop talking about yourself in the third person. I found out who you are in no uncertain terms when we went back to Smith’s estate to make sure he couldn’t do to anyone else what he’d done to us.
As she felt some of the tension ease out of him, she tightened her hold. I don’t have any doubts about what I want and what I need…from you.
At the same time, her hands began to slide up and down his back, pulling him close.
He lowered his head. She raised hers, and their mouths came together with a mutual expression of need.
His lips moved against hers, caressing and questing. She was doing the same, reveling in all the sensations she had craved.
He didn’t have to speak for her to know what he was thinking. They had been in a rather messy battle, and they would turn any bed into a pigsty now.
The shower.
Their mouths broke apart so they could watch where they were going, but they didn’t turn each other loose. Together, they stumbled into the bathroom, which thankfully had a large walk-in shower. He reached behind her to turn on the hot water, fumbling to adjust it as she began to pull off his clothing. She dispatched his shirt and started on his zipper while he did the same for her, both frantic to shed what had become encumbrances.
They left a pile of muddy, grass-stained clothing on the floor as they stepped under the spray, clinging together because they needed the stability. His hands moved everywhere they could reach, over her arms, across her shoulders, down her back to the swell of her butt, raising a firestorm everywhere they touched. She was doing the same, reveling in the feel of his slick skin under her fingertips.
He tilted her away from himself so that he could lower his head to find her breasts with his mouth, licking and sucking and bringing her nipples to hard points of sensation.
She wanted to wrap her fingers around his penis, but he warned her against it, silently telling her that he wanted this to last.
He might want that, but she knew it was an impossible goal. They were both too needy, too greedy to postpone fulfillment for long. He leaned back against the wall, lifting her up so that he could slide into her. There was no fumbling, no call for her to help him find the right place. He knew. And he knew exactly what she needed to reach climax.
He moved her body forward and away, the rhythm quickly growing frantic. She knew he was judging her reactions, following her progress toward completion. When her inner muscles began to contract, she felt him let go, both of them exploding in a burst of satisfaction that took them to the moon and back.
She collapsed against him, still hardly able to believe that they had just done this together. Her body responded to his, and he gave back everything he took.
When he eased her down, they clung together under the spray, swaying slightly, trying to take it in.
In the afterglow, she sensed Travis with her the way he had been with her before everything had changed. And she knew they had lost nothing, only gained more than she could ever have imagined.
As the water sluiced over them, she let herself open to his thoughts. He had been two different men who had somehow merged into one—were still merging in ways they were still exploring.
There won’t be hot water left for anyone else in the hotel, she finally whispered in his mind. Maybe we’d better use the shower for its primary purpose.
The suggestion led to hands slick with soap and bodies that heated again, never mind the water temperature. This time, they had more restraint. They washed each other, dried each other, and stepped out of the shower ready for round two.
Sorry. I have to dry my hair, or we’ll get the pillows wet.
Not a problem.
She watched him watching her, his expression greedy as she did a quick and dirty job on her long, thick mane. When it was almost dry, they staggered across the bedroom together and climbed under the covers, rocking in each other’s arms before making love again. This time it was slow and delicious rather than frantic.
She felt his smile as his mouth traveled down her body, finding her center and teasing her until she was begging for release.
But not this way, I want you inside me again.
He wrapped her in his arms, and at the same time, she felt his hands in places on her body he shouldn’t be able to reach.
How are you doing?
Don’t know. But I like it.
Me too.
Words became impossible as they climbed together above the earth’s atmosphere, then streaking back like a meteor to land in this lovely, comfortable bed.
The miracle of Travis bringing Gabe back would never be lost on either of them.
As they lay tangled together, she tried to absorb the reality of the man who held her close. It was still a wonderment.
For me too. But the thing I know best is that I love you.
She knitted her fingers with his. He could read her thoughts. She didn’t have to say that she loved Travis. And she felt the joy of having Gabe, too. The totality of what she had with this man was just beginning.
She read his silent response, all his feelings open to her. She waited a beat before asking, You’re sure you want me to call you Gabe?
He laughed softly. That’s an easy decision. All the people in my life already know me as Gabe.
Are we going to join the others in…Lafayette?
Decorah Security has a New Orleans office, but what about your business? You have a reputation here.
I think I can build one in Louisiana. I want to be with the rest of the group, at least for a while. They saved us. We wouldn’t be here without them.
And they wouldn’t be free of the threat of Mr. Smith hanging over them—without us.
Yes. But I need to stop in at my office and tell Frank what happened.
Will he believe you?
Frank…yeah. He collects agents with talents you couldn’t imagine.
Like what?
He hesitated for a moment, and she knew the answer to the question wasn’t something he spoke of with outsiders.
I’m not an outsider.
Right. Okay, like, the Marshall cousins are all werewolves.
She might have thought he was joking, but she knew from his thoughts that it was true.
I’ll fit right in. He made a dismissive sound. In fact, I used to feel jealous of their powers. Wait till they see what I’ve got.
She laughed, liking the sound and the new sense of freedom enveloping her. They had gone through hell in the past few days, but they had come out together, and she knew the future would be glorious.
“Something else we have to take care of,” he said aloud.
She caught the thought in his mind.
“Your aunt. She hired Gabe to find out what happened to Travis.” She paused for a moment. “Does she give any credence to the paranormal? Would she believe…” She lifted one shoulder. “That you were dead, but you found me and held on, and then Gabe gave you a body again?”
“She’d probably think I was trying to get out of admitting failure at not saving him.”
The scene when Gabe interviewed the feisty old woman made her shake her head. But she wasn’t going to give up on the idea. “What if you told her something that Gabe Bowman couldn’t possibly know?”
“That might work.”
“Is the guy who rented Jake the boat going to remember him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s gonna be hard to explain how it ended up in pieces at Smith’s estate.”
“Maybe one of the others will have some ideas about that.”
“Or it’s gonna be the St. Stephens mystery of the century.”
They talked for a few more minutes, warm and cozy in bed. But they were both too tired to keep their eyes open. As Olivia drifted off, she found Gabe’s hand again, secure in the knowledge that he would be there when she woke beside him.
