The Judas Contact (Boomers Book 1) (15 page)

Sweat beaded along his back, but not even his breathing changed. Her gut tightened, but she kept going, filling the sample vial with the fluid. It took less than five minutes to get what she needed, but worry soaked through her by the time she finished and extracted the needle. “Okay, just lie like that for another ten to fifteen. If you heal as quickly as Garrett does, that’s all you’re going to need.” Thank God her voice wasn’t shaking as hard as her insides.

“You will not do this to Rory.” The flat order vibrated with menace and she had no trouble believing the threat.

“No, not at all. I just need a blood sample from Rory. I promise.” Michael reminded her of a pit bull—extremely dangerous when threatened, but loyal and fierce in his devotion. She carried the samples over to the table and marked them, disposed of the needles and swapped out her gloves before looking at Rory. She hadn’t moved from her position next to the table, but she had rolled up her sleeve and held out a bare arm.

“See, Michael, just gonna be some blood. You stay still and, doc, let’s do this while he has to stay still. I think we should probably jet as soon as you’re done so he can cool off.” The light words did not make Ilsa feel better, but she circled the table under Rex’s watchful eyes and avoided meeting Michael’s. A blood sample was a lot easier to get and, thankfully, Rory’s vein was also easy to find. She filled two vials and taped a Band-Aid over the spot.

“You don’t heal like they do, do you?” She’d noticed the faint limp when Rory entered. They’d mentioned something about broken toes following their escape from the labs.

“Nope. I’m just regular ol’ me.” A quick grin and she turned to show Michael her arm. “All done and we’re good to go, soon.”

“Good. Thank you, doctor.”

Ilsa dared a look at him this time and, despite the inherent growl in his words, his expression was relaxed.

“Thank you. I’m sorry that hurt.” And she was. She preferred research because that meant she could minimize pain. Or at least anesthetize it.

“You’re trying to answer questions for us. We asked you to do this.” He inclined his head ever so slightly. “The pain is almost gone.”

A small smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “Good. Give it a few more minutes just to be on the safe side. As soon as I have results, I’ll let you know.”

“Doctor?” Michael’s voice halted her. “Garrett is one of us. Do not lead him on.”

She frowned.

“Michael.” Rory snapped at him and rose, blocking Ilsa’s view of the soldier. “Ignore him. Garrett likes you. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“Okay.” She didn’t want to discuss Garrett with them. They couldn’t understand how lonely the man was, nor how much he craved what they had in abundance. Five minutes with the pair and she ached with a similar loneliness. She wanted to hold Garrett’s hand. She wanted to touch his face. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. Michael and Rory couldn’t seem to stop touching and Garrett wasn’t allowed to.

It wasn’t fair.
At all.

It took her an hour to set the samples up. She started the Smart Cycler working and checked the results on Garrett’s sample in the Spartan. The slide was sealed to prevent any contamination, but she’d blocked off the machine in drapes. She stored his samples, sanitized the device, and loaded Michael and Rory’s up. When she finally glanced up, her audience was gone. Michael and Rory presumably had left to return to whatever they were investigating.

Rex probably went to check on Garrett. She should check on him, too. She sat down at the computer and pulled up the file she’d begun, recording her results, her tests, and her theories. She flipped to the screen with the recordings from the FMRI. Something in the Wall Street picture had triggered the chip.

Someone.

She glanced at the wall clock and ignored the rumbling in her stomach. Surely the Internet had some kind of photo identification software. If she could track the photo, maybe she could find a news article that identified the people—or at least when it was taken. She did a search and found a site that offered to look for any other instances of a photo. She uploaded the one she’d used and hit search.

It returned nearly a hundred results.

Starting at the top, she began to read.

“Garrett.” His mother’s voice slipped into his dreams and dragged him away from the only escape he was allowed. “Garrett, you have to wake up.”

Peeling open his eyelids, he grunted and stared up into the gaunt, beautiful face of the woman who shared his green eyes. “I was dreaming.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She kept her voice low, the husky whisper barely audible through the plexi-steel separating their cells. Fingers pressed to the glass, she waited expectantly. He dragged himself upright and mirrored the pose, fingers spread. Over the years, his hands had grown until they went from being tiny to greater in length and width than hers, despite his being so young. “But it’s important.”

He shook off the dregs of sleep and stole a look around the laboratory cells they lived in. The exterior rooms were dark. Machinery beeped, monitoring their vitals, always taking their readings, and recording them for the scientists who were likely in their own homes and beds, sleeping free of observation. He and his mother were alone, as alone as they could ever be.

“What’s wrong?” Sometimes, when his mother woke him, it was to tell him stories of the beforetime—before she’d been captured. Before the world went to hell. Before—when who and what she was mattered.

Other times, she woke him because her hope faded and she could only hang on because Garrett was there. She’d stopped eating two weeks ago. He didn’t think his mother would walk back away from the precipice this time. Nearly ten years in captivity…his whole life.

“Mom?”

She shook herself, rousing from the study of his face. “Some days, you really look like your father. I miss him, you know. He was the only one who could touch me. The only one who didn’t shy away from what I could do or what I was. He would have loved to know you. You know that, right?”

He did, because she told him all the time. “Yeah, I know. He wouldn’t have let them cage you, Mom.”

“No. He wouldn’t have. He tried to stop them. For a long time he was successful.” She sighed and her gaze went distant. He wished he could follow her to whatever sight she saw beyond this cell—to what it was like to be free. “I miss him, Garrett, and I’ve waited years to get back to him.”

Grief spasmed inside his chest and he understood. She’d held on because of him.

“You’re ten tomorrow. I wanted to leave you a better world, a stronger world. A world that wouldn’t hate or punish you for being different. I’m sorry, baby, that I couldn’t give that to you.” Her voice cracked on the last words. “But I want to see your father again and I can’t—I
can’t—
do this anymore.”

“It’s okay, Mom.” He glanced past her to the machines. They ticked away, reporting her pulse and respiration. Both were dropping. He flattened his hand against the glass, wishing with all his might that he could melt it like he could people, flood it with an illness that would destroy it. Then he could reach in and hug his mother.

She needed a hug.

“It’s not. I should be stronger.” Defeat rippled in those words. “I’ve tried for so long—”

“You’ve been strong. You’ve always been strong.” She had endured so much. So many tests, so many invasive procedures, so much pain—and all just to be with him. He’d never scented her hair. Never touched her skin, never felt the warmth of her as she held him close. Tears clogged in his throat, but he forced them away. She had been strong for so long. It was his turn.

“They are going to come for me today. They’ll need new samples. They’ve dropped their guard over the last few months.” Since she’d stopped fighting them every time. He understood what she was saying. They didn’t bring the armed guard in anymore. The scientists were pleased with their cooperative lab rats. “Garrett, when they come. Promise me you will not look.”

“Mom…”

“Promise me.” The quaver resolved into a firm, unbendable tone. “You will turn your back and you will lie down and put your hands behind your head. You will show them you are not involved. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The promise cut into him. “But I could help.”

“You can’t and they would most likely just hurt you to punish me. But I am not going to stop this time.” A tear leaked down her cheek, a silent, solemn testament to the sadness in her heart. “I am sorry I’m not stronger.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too. You will get out of this place. They will come for you. I know they are still out there. Hold on a little bit longer, okay?” She stroked the glass separating their hands and he imagined the touch of her fingers against his.

“I will.” As long as it took. He would hold on and then he would kill them. Kill them all for breaking this beautiful woman.

She sighed and rested her head against the glass, eyes closing. She would sleep now. Sleep and wait for the scientists to walk into her cell.

Garrett jerked awake. Tears soaked his face and he stared around the dark room, gaze latching onto the woman curled up in the chair across from the bed. Her blonde hair fell over half her face and her right cheek was tucked up against her palm as if it was a pillow. He scrubbed away the dampness from his cheeks and forced his respiration to calm down. He hadn’t thought of that night—of his mother’s final choice—in decades.

“You’re awake.” A yawn punctuated the sleepy words and she sat up, unfolding her legs and stretching them. A crease dimpled her cheek from where her hand had pressed against it. “How are you feeling?”

“Water.” His voice came out hard, husky, and hoarse. She rose in slow motion, her bound left wrist making him wince. He’d done that. Next to the bed stood a pitcher and a glass. She filled the glass with cold water and held it out by two fingers, careful to not touch him as he accepted the container.

He smiled slightly, downing the whole glass in one long swallow.

“How long was I out?”

She retreated back to the chair and perched on the edge, elbows resting on her knees. “Almost twenty-four hours. Rex came and he brought you up here. He’s still here, but ‘maintaining the perimeter.’” The last was said with air quotes.

He nodded slowly. The headache punching behind his eyes was gone. In fact, all of his mental aches seemed to be gone. The incessant buzzing that always seemed at a low-level in his ears was also missing. “What happened?”

“I shut down your chip and I think it rebooted. But we won’t know until it activates again.” She didn’t quite meet his gaze as her teeth dragged across her lower lip.

Levering upright, Garrett dragged the sheet back around his waist. He was nude. He’d have to remember to smack Rex for that later—although, in fairness, the shifter probably stripped the gear and burned it because he’d been sweating. It didn’t help that his cock was hard as a stone and Ilsa looked positively edible sitting there, sleepy-eyed and wrinkled from her nap in the chair.

He focused on her.

Target Identified: Ilsa Blaine, doctor and potential mate

Field: Neuroscience and related applications

Abilities: Designs programmable bioware, enhanced understanding of brain chemistry

Suggested defense: Protect her

Suggested offense: Do not harm her

The words scrolled across his mind’s eye, but this time they included updated images, including one of her standing in the kitchen, eating a waffle. Scrubbed of makeup, hair pulled up in a ponytail, and her shell pink painted toes curling against the lighter colored tile—his whole body revved at that image.

The addition of
potential mate
, however, was new and disturbing. “It’s active.”

“Does it feel different?” The scientist roused immediately and Garrett sighed. He appreciated her mind and her hunger for knowledge. Unlike the bastards that poked and prodded his mother, she wasn’t without heart or feeling.

“No,” he lied. “Not really.” He paused to think about it. Before, he’d cascaded images of her inside of the R.E.X. laboratory stairwell. This time, the majority of the images came from the house. But it might just be accessing his most recent memories of her.

“But?” Her eyebrows rose and she sat up. “Something is different.”

“It’s nothing I can put my finger on.”
Liar
. “Just—not as loud as it was.” That part was true. In fact, at the thought of R.E.X. labs, another information stream hit him: projects and developments, particularly the bio-enhancements that included limb regeneration, visual restoration, and neurostimulation to assist patients suffering from Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s...

“It’s also more as if, instead of plastering me with information, I just know.” Ilsa’s contributions to those projects were immeasurable. From the early development of the chip, the company’s breakthroughs were made in leaps and bounds. For at least fifty years, she provided the guiding principles of compassion and awareness. It was only after her death…

His heart squeezed at the thought of her life ending. Gut wrenching pain stabbed at his stomach and twisted like a knife. “You can’t go back to work for R.E.X. We’ll find a way to fund your research and development, but not with them.” The company made its bones off her work and somehow turned the world upside down. He wouldn’t change the progress she made, but he wouldn’t allow a band of thieves and murderers to use her to destroy them.

“Okay. We weren’t talking about me going back to work. In fact, I’m still waiting to find out why the director wanted to take me into custody.” Her tone was patient, too patient. “Is that some new information you got from your chip?”

Arrest warrant 20170210 issued on charge of bio-terrorism. Dr. Ilsa Blaine incarcerated for ten months pending a full investigation. Clearance restored in 2018. Return to work at R.E.X. facility, New York in autumn 2019.
Headlines populated the information, but he zeroed in on the photograph beneath the headlines. The dark smudges beneath her eyes. The shorn haircut framing her face. The cheerful gleam faded from her eyes, turned flat and opaque in the grainy image.