Beyond These Walls (11 page)

Leave it to Quinn to gloss over the fact he’d cold bloodied tried to kill me, and focus on word choice. No, I’m sorry, Indeara. Or I didn’t mean it. Or even better, I’ll never shoot you again. Nope. Not Quinn. Bastard.

The big jerk was saying, “McClain isn’t who or what he appears to be.”

“Oh.” I raised an eyebrow and rose from the couch. My blood heated and it took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to slug him. “And you are?” A bitter laugh burst from my lips. “At least Jake’s not hiding behind the skin of a flabby, white guy so he can ‘fit in’ in the human world.”

“You know all about hiding, don’t you?” Anger flashed in his eyes pinning me under their gaze. “You’ve spent your whole life protected from the real world. Protected by Calvin and Ivan. Hell, even by me.” Grabbing my arm, he gave it a shake. “Maybe it’s time to grow up. Quit trying to save everybody else and focus on yourself.”

Fuck it. My willpower crumbled as my palm met his cheek. Quinn’s head snapped back, and a thin trail of blood dribbled down his lip. Wiping it away with the back of his hand, he grinned, showing off sparkling white teeth now smeared red. A shiver ran across my neck. I took a step back distancing myself as I prepared for retaliation.

“I guess I deserved that.” He slowly rose from the couch, stalking my steps as I paced away from him. “But no more,” he warned. “The next time you make me bleed I’ll return the favor.”

As if I was afraid of him, I thought, taking another step back. He was a wannabe-human with bad borrowed skin. What’s the worse he could do? “I’m not scared of you.” The quiver in my voice was from rage, not fear, I assured myself.

He laughed. “Oh, but you should be. More than you know.”

Chapter 21

In the next minute, I found myself flat on my back on the couch, Quinn above me, his lips millimeters from mine. Thick, muscled legs pressed my lower body to the cushions while his tapered fingers pinned my arms. His breath tickled my cheek, warm and smelling like vodka, but not unpleasant. In fact, the way in which his body pressed against mine sent waves of longing through me. I fought the sensation, trying to focus my hate.

“Tell me you don’t miss this.” He nodded his head toward our locked bodies. “Miss me.” Before I could deny it, his lips captured mine, his tongue plundering my mouth, pushing me deeper into the softness of the leather against my back.

I tried to pull away, to save myself the pleasure/pain of his emotional assault, but resistance was, in a word, futile. And Quinn, the bastard, knew it.

Which left me with little choice.

I moaned, low and harsh in my throat, drawing on three years of pent up frustration. Quinn shifted, changing from captor to lover. Trailing a line of sensory devastating kisses down my neck he peeled my tank top up exposing my pink bra underneath. Not to mention my PM40. He lifted the weapon from between my breasts, grinned a wicked grin, and tossed it aside. It landed on the hardwood with a clang, but lucky for the downstairs neighbor it didn’t fire.

“Oh God did I miss you,” he said, his eyes filling with such lust, for a second or two, I lost my breath. His knee slid up the inside of my thighs, pushing them further apart. I felt the heat of him through my cargo pants and swallowed.

“I love the feel of you. The taste. Your scent,” he said running his tongue between the valley of my breasts. “It haunts me. No matter how hard I worked to erase it and you from my head.”

More than anything in the mutant world, I wanted Quinn to shut up, to choke on his loving words. Or maybe, I wanted something more…

My hands fisted in his hair, and I dragged his mouth from my breast, and stared into his beautiful eyes. “Don’t ruin this by talking,” I said, and then lifted my own mouth to meet his. I nibbled on the edge of his bottom lip. My hand stroked the hard muscles of his back, dipping lower and lower until I was rewarded with his masculine groan, and his jetting erection burrowing into my abdomen.

From there things got out of hand.

Until the front door of Quinn’s loft opened and framed in the doorway stood the blonde woman from the photograph, her green eyes blazing with violence. She stormed into the room and pounded at Quinn’s bare back. “What the hell is this?” She jabbed her finger in my direction.

“London,” Quinn rolled off me doing his best to conceal my near-naked state. “This isn’t—”

“Bastard.” Her fist smashed into poor David West’s nose, blood spurted from it, staining Quinn’s bare chest. “You swore you wouldn’t—” She swung again, but Quinn wrapped his arms around her to stop her assault.

I took that as my cue and hopped from the couch collecting my tank top and one of my guns. As I ran for the door Quinn’s voice nearly stopped me. “Indeara, wait.”

Not this time.

I ran faster, slipping from his loft and into the hallway. His voice trailed after me, “If you want to find Nobody, ask McClain.”

I nodded, but didn’t stop running. Not until I reached the blacktopped street. And then only long enough to stuff Quinn’s wallet into my cargo pants. A wallet I’d slipped from his back pocket while he was otherwise engaged.

All’s fair in love, war, and rescuing a cyclops.

Chapter 22

Resden Enterprise looked the same as it had on my last visit. With the exception of the unconscious guard slumped over the security console and the droplets of blood following my path to the elevator, blood from a gunshot wound in my stomach. A lucky shot from an, I glanced back at the bruised man, unlucky guard. The wound was far enough from any vital organs to worry me, but it still burned like a son-of-a-bitch.

Head, heart, or like Achilles the back of my foot. Those were my weaknesses. Well, those spots and lying, cheating body dwellers. I’d survive any other bullet wound, as long as my cells had time to heal.

I limped into the elevator, watching my wound try to mend itself before my eyes. Something crawled into the back of my mind, a niggling fear that entering Resden had been too easy. One guard. An electrical fence. A roving pack of hungry dogs. That was all that protected Resden, or was it? Would the elevator doors open to an ambush of gunfire? I checked the PM40’s ammo, readying myself for whatever lay behind door number 1.

So far Quinn’s security badge had gained me access to both the front door and the elevators. I wondered if I’d have the same luck in Arthur’s office.

But first I needed to check the lab. From memory I mapped out my strategy. The lab, located on the fortieth floor, took up the entire area. To search the whole thing would take hours. Hours I didn’t have. So I’d have to keep my inspection cursory and my eyes wide for any sign of Nobody, or the mutant vaccine.

Briefly I considered blowing up the building, but quickly discarded the idea. There were too many variables, like what if Nobody was locked inside. Anyway, blowing up Resden wouldn’t guarantee the vaccine’s destruction. In fact, it might be the factor that stepped up production, and ultimately led to the destruction of mutants everywhere.

While pondering the problem and suffering through a Muzak version of ‘
Animal Crackers in My Soup’
my phone vibrated from the pocket of my cargo pants. I pulled it out and checked the caller ID. McClain. Damn. I wasn’t ready to deal with him, or Quinn’s accusations just yet.

If Jake was responsible for kidnapping Nobody I’d all but signed my death warrant by bringing him with me. But could I believe Quinn? My foolish heart said yes, but my brain kicked its ass. Quinn was a liar. A betrayer. So what did that make Jake?

“Did you find him?” I answered when my phone buzzed again.

“Nice to hear from you too,” he replied, his voice sounding tired. “Where are you?”

“Did you find him?” I repeated.

“No.”

“Call me when you do.” I hung up, turned my phone off, and shoved it back in my pocket. Until I knew for sure Jake wasn’t playing me I’d keep my distance.

Better safe than not dead.

The elevator dinged and the doors slowly slid open. I tucked my body against the console and waited for a flurry of gunshots that never came. The corridor was dark and oddly empty. The faint smell of chemicals tickled my nose.

Quickly I inspected the hallway and the offices on each side of it, searching for Nobody. But I saw nothing. Using Quinn’s badge I entered the lab and nearly gagged at the sight of half frozen mutants suspended in glass jars like monkey-dolphins on display. The mutants looked merely asleep under the glow of the lab lights.

But they were dead. All dead.

I shivered, but couldn’t look away. This was how my grandfather saw the mutant race. Saw me. Like we were objects to be displayed, jeered, and studied by men with superior genetic codes. Resden wasn’t searching for a cure. No, it was seeking a means to end us, a way to erase the questions of science and the ideals of man.

My stomach rolled forcing me away from the mummified mutants. The rest of my search of the lab wasn’t as bad. But it had its moments, like when I discovered a cage of mutated mice, their tiny bodies swollen from puncture wounds. Test subjects for anti-mutant-virals. Resden grew mutant mice in order to destroy mutants.

I shook my head and opened the cage door, freeing the mutated beasts. But they refused to leave the safety of the gilded cage, choosing instead the demons they knew to the world beyond their walls.

I couldn’t blame them. Tears welled in my eyes and I thought of Quinn. For the last three years, I blamed him for leaving the mutant world. Hated him for it. But now, a part of me understood his need. Not that part that had been shot. That part was still pissed off and wanted to kick his lying ass all over again.

I shook my head. I was losing my mind, standing in a lab full of dead mutants, and moaning over what could have been. Thankfully, nobody was here to see my breakdown.

Nobody.

Was he being poked and prodded like the mutated mice? Or worse? I had to find him. I glanced at the clock above the door. It read 4:03 a.m. It would be light soon and humans would begin to file into Resden for a day of mutant killing. I didn’t have much time.

With one last look at the frozen faces of my fellow mutants I jogged from the lab and up the stairs to Arthur’s office on the 41st floor. By the time I reached the right floor, I’d blocked out the horrors caged below.

For now.

Chapter 23

I swiped Quinn’s badge through the lock on Arthur’s door. But the lock remained glowing a stubborn red. I guess I’d have to do things the old-fashioned way. My boot smashed into the door just above the handle with enough force that my heel pushed through the wood leaving my leg dangling, half in and half out, of the door. I valiantly tried to maintain my footing, but it was a lost cause. I tumbled to the floor, my boot still lodged in the woodwork.

It might have been laughable had it not been so damn frustrating. I tugged at my leg, but it wouldn’t give. Finally, I kicked off my pink boot and pulled my foot free. I got to my feet and reached through the hole to unlock the door. It opened easily, and I quickly ducked inside.

The room hadn’t changed since my meeting with Arthur. It was still imposing, much like the man, and still held too many secrets. Not for long, though. If his office held any clue to Nobody’s whereabouts I’d find it. I started with a casual peek through Arthur’s desk and the computer on top of it.

Surprisingly no password protected the computer. It didn’t need to I figured out after spending a minute searching the files on his hard drive. It was vacant, devoid of anything, let alone anything important. Damn.

His desk held little appeal too. Besides being beautifully designed and handcrafted, it was also almost empty. The only object on it was a faded photograph of my mother, her smile bursting with love and happiness. The photo wasn’t like the dying woman I remembered. I turned the photograph upside-down and finished my inspection.

In the bottom drawer of the desk, a bottle of pills sat along side a fifth of whiskey. Both of which saddened me for some inexplicable reason. My eyes scanned a few paper documents arranged in the drawer as well as Arthur’s calendar. Nothing popped out at me as sinister. Or more sinister than a weekly doctor’s appointment and a memo warning all Resden employees of a possible mutant breach. I assumed that mutant was me.

I stood, stretched, and headed for the large metal file cabinets lining the back wall. Inside the cabinets rows of file folders hung with tiny plastic labels, all neatly typed with names of dead mutants. Inside the folders the mutant’s name and date of death were listed in clinical notations.

Feeling vaguely ill, I scanned a few of the files. Cause of death:
Mutant Plague.
Mutant Plague. Mutant Plague
. Every damn file shared that one unique feature.

Scientists had pondered the plague, poked and prodded the dying, and ultimately declared our genetic malfunctions self-selected disease transmitted by unknown method. It wasn’t airborne nor transmitted by contact. But it swept through mutant society in generational waves, killing thousands in every age group. Our mutated genes would be the death of us science said. But what about Emily? She, a human woman, died of the mutant plague too.

I scratched my head, pondering the significance of a drawer full of dead mutants. Why would Arthur Resden, one of the richest men in the world, bother tracking the plague deaths of mutants? It didn’t make sense.

Unless…I swallowed hard, dropped the file in my hand, and slid to the floor. It couldn’t be. My mind flashed to my mother’s ravaged face, her cells dying from mutated blood. Plague, the doctors said. Six months to live. I was ten at the time. Too young to understand why mommy couldn’t get out of bed. But Calvin, my dad, had never left her side. He held her close as she succumbed to a mutant disease.

Or had she died for her father’s greed?

I didn’t get a chance to finish the thought, instead I caught a flash of metal out of the corner of my eye seconds before it smashed into the side of my head.