Dawn Endeavor 1: Fallon's Flame (2 page)

He glanced at his friends in the front seat.
Make that, capable of thinking for
themselves.

Hayashi continued to drive through a small spatter of raindrops. At least the constant swipe of windshield wipers lulled Fallon's temper, if not his headache. He couldn't wait to get back and relax in the one place he felt truly at home.

The large mansion they occupied served its purpose well enough. Near enough to the Marine Corps base at Camp Lejeune and the air station at Cherry Point, he and his team could use air, ground, or water for transport.

Hayashi pulled up to a gate, inched the truck to a halt, and punched in a few numbers on the dash. Once the gates opened, he drove up the winding drive. The large estate housed a ten-thousand-square-foot home, big enough to contain four Circs with varying temperaments and give each of them the privacy their secret organization demanded.

The truck pulled to a stop outside the front door. The small droplets of rain turned into a larger, faster deluge.

“Need me to carry you in, princess?” Tersch offered.

Fallon ignored him and sucked up the pain as he exited the truck. He stopped so suddenly, Hayashi crashed into him.

“What—”

He held out a hand and concentrated past the agony in his brain and the cold rain leeching away his warmth. “Admiral London's inside with Jules,” he said, hearing the admiral's thoughts as he spoke with their team leader. “And someone else.” Someone who made him hurt far worse than any bruising Tersch had given him that evening.

He sagged and would have fallen had Hayashi and Tersch not grabbed his arms. He heard Hayashi snap his fingers in front of his face.

“Hell. Let's get him inside.”

Fallon had a hard time seeing past the burst of color beneath his eyelids. Sounds and images bombarded his tired mind like pricks of lightning—all piercing and unavoidable.

Then a soothing voice filtered through—feminine, powerful, alien. He didn't like the invasion and fought to rid himself of it.

“Dude, move faster,” Tersch grumbled.

“He'll be fine. Fallon, quit trying to make Tersch feel guilty for pounding you. You know how he gets.”

Fallon wanted to tell Hayashi he wasn't acting, but he couldn't form words, nor could he send a telepathic message without breaking the mental shield he strove to maintain. The female's strange thought patterns threatened to undo him.

“Fallon?” Jules's commanding voice reached him through a fog as someone lowered him onto a couch.

“Here, let me.” A soft hand grazed his forehead, and the pain vanished as if it had never been. Fallon blinked up into eyes he wouldn't soon forget. Dark, unfathomably deep, and set inside a mature, feminine face full of mystery and strength.

The woman had dark brown skin as smooth as a baby's. Her age seemed indeterminate, anywhere from forty to sixty; he couldn't tell. Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes, but other than that, she seemed like an ebony statue of calm. Short, dark hair frosted with gray framed her face with regal care.

A strand of delicate pearls surrounded her neck, and a single pearl graced each earlobe.

She wore a navy blue suit, her skirt showing off trim legs and slender ankles. When she straightened, he noted she wore no-nonsense pumps that matched her dress. They put her at a petite five feet four, if that.

“Better now?” she asked, her voice soft yet firm, resonating with an energy he couldn't identify but wanted to understand.

“Yeah,” he rasped and tried to stand.

Tersch yanked him to his feet. “Hell, Fallon. Next time you want a lady's attention, just ask for it.” “
You sure you're okay
?”

“
I'm good, thanks
.” Fallon cleared his throat, embarrassed to be the focus of so much attention. “Sorry. I think I had too much to drink.”

Hayashi and Tersch said nothing. Jules frowned. Jules could always tell when he was lying. He never drank to excess. Still, Jules didn't say anything aloud. “
Careful. She's strong.

And way weird
.”

Admiral London cleared his throat. “I'm sorry to have come at such an odd hour, but operationally it's been a busy month. I've come to impart some important information. Jules, perhaps the conference room would be best for this.”

Jules nodded. Their leader, Julian Hawkins, had patience, ability, and a keen perception of others. His obvious leadership had garnered him the attention of Captain William Delancey, Admiral London's old protégé. Invited to participate in Project Dawn, Jules had followed his captain's recommendation and allowed himself to be the first one infected with the Circe serum.

The U.S. Navy's first Circ, but definitely not its last.

Jules led Admiral London and the woman to their secure conference room. Fallon and the others followed. Jules punched in the code on the door keypad, and the group entered and sat, waiting on the admiral.

“There's no easy way to put this.”

Fallon noticed Jules's frown. He must have seen something in the admiral's aura that bothered him. For Fallon's part, he couldn't hear a whisper of the man's thoughts.

His gaze met the woman's. She raised a brow, as if questioning his attention. Fallon sent Jules an apology. “
I can't read him at all. I think she's blocking me
.”

“Admiral, please, just say whatever it is you need to say,” Jules said quietly.

“I can't handle your assignments and my new duties at the Pentagon any longer. While it's been a true joy to be so close to the thick of things again, I have to get back to the bigger picture.” The admiral drew in a deep breath. “To that end, I've chosen Mrs. Alicia Sharpe to replace me.”

As one, all four Circs turned their attention to the unassuming older woman studying them with placid interest.

“I've known Alicia for over thirty years. She's a problem solver for our government. She's not NSA, CIA, nor does she belong to any other agency. She's not a scientist either. Alicia is here to manage the group. She'll be handpicking your assignments from now on, as well as a new staff to better suit Circ needs.” The admiral made eye contact with every one of them, his green-eyed gaze serious. “I trust her with my life and with yours. She won't let you down. I don't expect any of you to let her down either.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral,” Jules answered without a qualm. Jules trusted the admiral implicitly.

Fallon wished he could be so lucky.

Fallon felt uneasy, especially when the admiral favored Mrs. Sharpe with a warm smile. A sudden image of the woman, years younger and wearing nothing but a string of pearls as she bent over Geoffrey London, hit him hard.

He choked on his shock and shielded himself from seeing anything more. He was astonished to have seen anything at all.

“Fallon?” Hayashi murmured.

“Sorry, dry throat.” God, his eyes were going to burn out. Seeing the admiral naked and aroused wasn't his idea of a good time. But he had to admit, Mrs. Sharpe had been a definite stunner in her younger years.

She gave him a small smile before composing herself, and her lack of embarrassment tempered his discomfort.

“Geoffrey, I'm pleased to have your endorsement.”

And then some.

She shot Fallon a sharp glance before turning back to Admiral London. “I look forward to my time here. I'll be making regular reports to the admiral, as will you four,” she said, nodding at each of them. “You'll continue to maintain an open-door policy with the brass. But I hope if I do something you don't like or understand, you'd come to me with it first.” The look she shot Tersch was telling. The big guy didn't look any more pleased at this development than the rest of them.

Mrs. Sharpe continued. “This is the
dawning
of a new day, gentlemen. The true beginning of the navy's Circ project: Dawn Endeavor.”

Quiet filled the room as they absorbed the news.

Admiral London broke the silence. “That is all, gentlemen. Alicia, if you and I could have a few words?”

Fallon shot out the door before he caught more than he wanted to see in the admiral's head again. Close proximity to a person often increased his ability to read minds. Better for him to be far, far away from Admiral London right now.

“What the hell?” Tersch grumbled as the four of them left the conference room and headed for the kitchen. Predictably, they needed to eat. Circs had revved-up metabolism and the earlier fight had exacerbated his hunger. “This is a surprise I didn't see coming,” Hayashi said, confusion evident in his tone.

“You need to work on that foresight thing,” Jules murmured. “For a prognosticator, you're lacking.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” Hayashi accepted the plate of cold chicken Tersch handed him and set it on the large kitchen island. “Grab me the cheese on the bottom shelf.” Tersch grabbed the plate and held it far from his body. “Ech. What is
that
? Brie? Looks like snot.”

Hayashi took the cheese from Tersch. “You don't have to eat it cold. Heated and topped with almonds and cranberries, it's delicious.”

Jules made a face. “Tersch, gimme a beer.”

“Amen.” Tersch scowled at Hayashi, handed Jules a beer, and grabbed one for himself.

The team ate in silence for a while before Tersch turned his blue eyes on Fallon. “What the hell did you hear in there that turned you three shades of red?”

“More like what I
saw
.”

Tersch snorted. “I didn't know you saw things. I thought you just heard voices, you know, like the crazies in the psych ward.”

“Dick. No, I don't normally see images, but if the sender is thinking hard enough, I can sometimes see what he sees. The admiral projected some powerful shit. I got an eyeful of Mrs.

Sharpe and Geoff going at it.”

“Oh man.” Tersch grimaced.

“Well, it was a memory from years ago. The woman looks good in nothing but pearls.”

“Dude, she's old.”

“You think any woman over the age of eighteen is old,” Hayashi said drily.

The flush on Tersch's face was worth the man's weight in gold. “Hey, that girl looked a lot older than eighteen. Her driver's license said twenty-three! Not my fault the chick was barely legal.” He paused. “Never going to let me live that one down, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Guys, seriously, what do you think about this?” Jules asked. Under the bright kitchen lights, his eyes shone like diamonds. Fallon thought the comparison apt. He'd never met a tougher man than his team leader.

Fallon gave the question some careful consideration. “Mrs. Alicia Sharpe revs with energy.

What kind, I'm not sure. I don't know if we can trust her.” He turned to Jules. “What does she look like?”

“She's golden.”

“What does that mean?” Hayashi asked. “I've never heard you describe an aura as golden before.”

“That's because I've never seen one that color before. She's different. Different good or different bad, though—that remains the question,” Jules muttered and grabbed a chicken leg before Tersch could finish the entire plate himself.

“Damn.” Tersch glared at him. “Well, I for one don't like her. She gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

Hayashi blinked. “The what?”

“The willies, the shivers. She scares him, right, Frederik?” Fallon asked, trying to sound helpful while he poked fun at their resident Viking.

“Jackass. No, she doesn't
scare
me. I just don't like her.”

“Well, that's too bad, gentlemen, because I already like you.” Alicia Sharpe strode into the kitchen. She stopped next to Tersch, looking downright tiny in his shadow. “Now, how about a nice cup of coffee while we get to know one another better?”

One month later

Olivia Lynn stepped out of her car and stared up at the picture of gothic horror come to life. Okay, granted, the mansion didn't look that old. Gothic certainly didn't describe the house.

With its tiled circular drive, fieldstone facade, and bright white columns, the place could have been featured in a home and garden magazine. The lit chandelier, visible through the grand window over the door, hinted at a spacious, welcoming interior. The surrounding darkness, however, called to mind monsters and things left best uncovered.

Shifting winds rustled the leaves of the water oaks, hickories, and pines that bordered the house and seemed to stretch for miles. The scent of a storm lingered, wild, wet, and cold. Cones dropped, and wildlife scattered in the shadowy woods around her. Stifling a shiver, Olivia shut her car door and walked across the flagstone path to the brightly lit doorway.

She knocked, not sure what to expect. The journey for this particular assignment had made sense, right before she'd veered away from the Marine Corps base. Her foray through the dark roads surrounded by dense forest had unnerved her. The secure gate at the end of her ride had given her some confidence, but the winding drive up to the house had filled her with trepidation.

She swore she'd seen yellow eyes glinting at her from between the trees.

Taking a firm grip on her imagination
and
her satchel, Olivia did a last-minute inspection of her appearance. Her tailored wool suit showed off her femininity while maintaining the professional demeanor needed for a woman working in a man's world. The pale pink silk blouse complemented her olive skin tone, and the neat twist she'd put her hair into lent her a scholarly appearance.

Pleased she at least looked the part, Olivia mentally reviewed her strengths and weaknesses. To her surprise, the door suddenly opened. She hadn't heard or felt anyone approach.

“Perfect.” A short African American woman with hazel eyes and lips to die for stood inside the doorway. Dressed in jeans and a ragged sweatshirt, she appeared a few years younger than Olivia. The woman's beauty stunned Olivia for a moment, as did her effortless smile, which seemed to lift the gloom around them. She radiated positive energy. “Another woman in the house. It's about damned time.”

Olivia stood still, bemused by this greeting. Though the environment wasn't exactly military, the mission fell under navy control. This beauty queen didn't fit with Olivia's preconceived notion of those on the job. A sailor, someone in a uniform or suit, maybe? But not Ms. Sexy USA.