Delta Force Desire (10 page)

Kit glanced at Zoya and Lawrence. Griffin's hand was gripping her arm, not letting her move from their position. Zoya was holding her shoulder, and her robe was red with blood.

Lawrence held a gun at her and Griffin. He glanced at his wife. “We need to go with them and they'll heal her. Please, do it for Zoya.” He sounded anguished.

“You did this?” Zoya asked.

Lawrence ran his hand through his hair. “They needed help. The United States is out of control. They're using the Locker to control every bit of data on the internet. They have to be stopped.”

Griffin pointed his gun at Lawrence. “Drop it. We'll get the women out of here. We'll find Zoya medical help. You don't have to turn us over to Incognito.”

Lawrence shook his head. “They'll kill me. They'll find me. I agreed to help them. I already took the money.”

“If this was your plan, why didn't you call them when we first made contact?” Kit asked. He could have brought them to the hotel room and Kit, Griffin and Zoya would have been trapped inside.

“They wanted to test you to see if you were as good as everyone says. They wanted to see if you could breach their network. They wanted proof you were Lotus,” Lawrence said.

Kit had passed their test, and now Incognito had confirmed her identity and wanted her to work for them. Lawrence seemed to think he was doing the right thing, or maybe he had let the money convince him it was the right thing.

“They shot Zoya. You have to know they'll kill you either way,” Kit said.

Lawrence's eyes were filled with fear. “We can't escape.” He jabbed a hand through his hair.

Zoya moaned. “Find Arsenic.” She sounded tired and winded.

Kit wasn't sure she had heard her correctly. “Arsenic isn't well.”

One of the first engineers on the Locker had recruited the computer scientists and engineers who had worked on the project. Arsenic had suffered a massive stroke and had been hospitalized. He hadn't recovered and couldn't talk or walk. He was in a vegetative state, a shell of the genius he once was.

Zoya's eyes were glossy. “Find him.”

“Arsenic is out there?” Lawrence asked, sounding bewildered.

“Yes,” Zoya said.

Kit tried to process that and couldn't. Was Zoya losing blood and hallucinating? “Where should I look for him?”

Zoya said nothing.

“You betrayed me, Zoya. You kept secrets. Your secret world on that blasted computer. You never let me inside,” Lawrence said. His hands were shaking, and sweat dripped down his face.

Lawrence lowered his gun and shot Zoya. Lawrence turned his gun on himself. Another shot and Lawrence fell to the ground next to his wife. Kit screamed and turned away.

“I count two shots. That means two of you are alive.” The voice from between the cars again, cold and gruff.

Griffin pressed a finger over his lips. He would get them out of this. Kit couldn't look at Lawrence or Zoya. Why had Lawrence chosen that way out? They could have escaped.

Griffin knelt on the ground and aimed his gun. He fired. A yelp from someone; he had hit his target.

“Run!” Griffin said.

They dashed from the concrete pillar, and Griffin grabbed her arm and pointed to a black car. “Get in.”

It was locked. Griffin broke the driver's side window with his elbow, opened the door and hit the unlock button. Kit climbed inside. Griffin tore off the steering panel. Kit heard footsteps and turned around. She didn't see anyone. Where were they? She felt them coming. Terror gripped her, making words impossible.

Griffin connected two wires. The car started.

He backed out of the spot, narrowly missing the cars parked behind them.

“Are we being followed?” Griffin asked.

She twisted in her seat to look behind them. She didn't see anyone in pursuit.

“If Incognito has men posted everywhere, we might have been dealing with that one attacker,” Griffin said. “The other posts might not have assembled as backup in time.”

Driving the wrong way down a one-way lane, Griffin skidded the car out of the parking garage. They hit the street and Griffin didn't slow down.

* * *

Griffin alerted Connor they had two bodies in the garage and possible Incognito assassins waiting at the conference center and hotel, looking for them.

When he disconnected his call, he turned to Kit. They had been driving for ten minutes and he hadn't spotted a tail. He didn't know their next move. Kit had been silent. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Kit was pale but calm. “Lawrence shot Zoya and killed himself.”

They had witnessed a deeply disturbing incident. She wasn't accustomed to violence and death. “Yes.”

“I don't understand it.”

“He was in over his head and he wanted a way out. If Incognito had caught him, they would have killed him.” Or tortured him and then killed him. “If they didn't, the United States would have thrown him in jail.” Traitors never fared well, and Griffin had no sympathy for the man who had sold out Kit and Zoya. Griffin wanted to distract Kit and take her mind off the deaths of her two associates. “Tell me what Zoya meant about Arsenic.”

“Arsenic was amazing with a computer before his stroke. In the middle of the Locker project, he was hospitalized, and he didn't return.”

Sounded shady, like someone was hiding something. “What else do you know about him?” Griffin asked.

“He's an off-the-charts genius, but he's quirky. Probably some undiagnosed form of autism. He was a lead designer on the Locker. He had a hand in selecting every member of the team.”

“Where is he now?” Griffin asked.

“The last I heard, he was recovering in a medical facility in Maryland. His mother lives in the area.”

“What's the name of the facility?”

“Morningside Acres in Bel Air.”

“I'll call Connor. We're headed there.”

Kit touched his arm. “If Zoya suspected that Arsenic was alive, Incognito would know it, too.”

He hoped not. Lawrence had seemed surprised by the information. “Maybe not. Do you know Arsenic's real name?”

“No real names were to be exchanged. It was part of the security around the project. But it happened,” Kit said.

“We'll get his real name and check the patient records at the facility where he's staying.”

Forty minutes later, Kate West had sent a list of possible names for Arsenic. By looking at patient admission dates, they believed John Conrad was Arsenic, mastermind behind the Locker. John Conrad had a thin trail of records prior to being enrolled at Morningside, giving away that John Conrad was likely a government-issued identity.

“He was completely gone,” Kit said. “Even if he's there and knows who I am, he couldn't speak to me.”

“Zoya directed us to find him. We need to follow her lead. It's the only one we have.”

“A lead or a trap?” Kat asked.

“Could be either. But I'm prepared to handle both.”

* * *

After some sleep, a military flight and an hour in their rental car, Griffin and Kit were pulling into the campus of the Morningside Acres Rehabilitation Center located in the suburbs of Bel Air in Maryland. The road leading to the main facility was lined with purple and yellow flowers, and the green grass surrounding the property looked like it was manicured with scissors.

Based on his medical insurance claims, John Conrad was in-house. A call to the front desk, and Griffin was informed Mr. Conrad could have visitors. If she and Griffin could walk in, so could Incognito. If they hadn't already approached him, they must not have connected Arsenic to John Conrad, or Arsenic was too far gone to be of use to them. Whoever Arsenic/John Conrad had been before working on the Locker had been scrubbed from official government records.

How had Zoya known so much about Arsenic?

Griffin parked their rental car and walked to the visitor's entrance.

Griffin took her hand in his. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Haven't slept enough and I'm hungry, but I'm fine.” She was high-strung, thinking about Arsenic, Lawrence and Zoya. She couldn't sleep well.

Griffin looked apologetic. “I forgot about food. We'll eat soon.”

An orderly pushed a man in a wheelchair into the patient visiting area. Though his eyes were open, the man didn't move his head to acknowledge her. No flash of recognition in his eyes. He was frail and still.

He wasn't Arsenic. Even considering the hard years of living in a rehab facility poststroke, this wasn't him. “This is John Conrad?” she asked the orderly.

The orderly nodded. “I've been taking care of Mr. Conrad since he arrived. He doesn't get many visitors. I was happy to hear some old friends were coming to see him. I will be honest with you, though. He doesn't recognize many people, so please don't be hurt if he doesn't know who you are.”

Kit faced Griffin and shook her head. “It's not him. We've made a mistake. This is the wrong man.”

The orderly frowned.

Griffin's mouth drew into a hard line. “We're sorry to have wasted your time.” He guided Kit out of the building.

“I don't understand this,” Kit said. “Zoya said Arsenic is alive, but that was not him.”

“Are you sure? Do you want to look again?” Griffin asked.

Kit shook her head. “It wasn't him. I'm certain of it. What now? Where do we go from here?”

“If he's the wrong man, then the right man is out there somewhere, and we have to find him before Incognito does.”

* * *

Kit hated sleeping in hotel rooms. She missed her bed and her family. She missed her routine. The one comfort was the sound of the water from the Chesapeake Bay lapping against the shore. They were only a few hundred feet from the waterline.

Griffin had gone to buy food. He'd wanted her to go with him, but she needed time alone. She'd promised to keep the door locked and not open it for anyone.

Arsenic was somewhere in the world. Was he willingly working with Incognito? Kit hadn't stayed in touch with anyone from the Locker project. It had seemed safer, and she had been advised not to.

Kit trudged to the bathroom to brush her teeth before bed. She stumbled and fell against the doorjamb, catching herself with her hands. When she righted herself and looked in the mirror, she saw a familiar face. Turning slowly, her heart hammering hard, she met his ice-cold gaze.

Arsenic.

Chapter 9

N
othing in those eyes was vacant. Arsenic was the same as she had remembered. Too thin, tall, with sharp eyes and a beak-shaped nose that reminded her of a hawk.

He aimed a gun at her head. “Why are you looking for me? What do you want?”

How had he known? “It's me, Kit Walker. Lotus. Zoya told me to find you.” Kit could say this without selling Zoya out, since she was dead.

“I know who you are. Where is Zoya?” he asked.

Sadness tightened her throat. “Dead.”

“You're lying!” His voice lacked conviction.

She wished she was. “Incognito is hunting us. Killing or capturing everyone who's worked on the Locker. Incognito followed us to Gamer Con. Zoya's husband sold us out. He planned to hand us over to Incognito but ended up killing himself and her.”

Arsenic's eyes narrowed. “I told her not to go to Gamer Con.”

What was the relationship between Arsenic and Zoya? He spoke of her with a closeness and softness in his voice.

“I'm sorry for your loss. It was truly awful,” Kit said.

“How did you escape them? Did they follow you?”

Arsenic's arms were lifted above his head, and the gun clattered to the floor. Griffin had moved so quietly, Kit hadn't heard him enter the hotel room. Griffin shoved Arsenic into the dresser.

Griffin held the gun on Arsenic. “Who are you?”

Kit stepped in front of Griffin, causing him to lower his gun. “Griffin, stop. This is Arsenic. He's scared, too. He's here to find out why we're looking for him.” Though he had broken into her hotel room and pointed a gun at her, she sensed he wasn't planning to harm her. He wanted to protect himself.

Griffin grabbed Arsenic and hauled him to his feet. “Talk fast.”

“You came looking for me. I needed to know why,” Arsenic said.

Griffin released Arsenic but didn't take his eyes off him.

Arsenic laughed, a sick, maniacal laugh. “Building the Locker was a mistake. I shouldn't have signed on for the project. I should never have let anyone have it. It's too strong. It can be used for the wrong reasons.”

“It's protected the United States' networks for years,” Kit said carefully. Lawrence had implied the US was using it for nefarious purposes. Kit wasn't naive, but she believed that the work she had done had been in support of a country she loved. Had she been wrong to believe it was being used for good?

“It does those things, but once it's been compromised, it's a failure. A six-hundred-million-dollar failure. Every day some young hotshot comes up the ranks and learns a new way to break into systems. Ways you and I never thought of and using technology that didn't exist five years ago. How can anything protect itself against that?” Arsenic asked.

“Will you help us counter Incognito's attempt to gain full control of the Locker?” Kit asked.

Arsenic shook his head. “I don't want to get involved with another Locker. It was hard enough to get out the first time.”

Kit tried to keep up, but she was missing an important part of the story. “How did you get out? We were told you had a stroke.”

“Months of planning and many allies. I tried to pull Zoya out, too, but she refused. She had already fallen for Lawrence and declined to leave the project and go underground with me.”

Kit heard the grief in his voice. “I didn't realize you and Zoya were so close.”

“She's my daughter.”

Surprise rolled over her. She hadn't before made the connection. A fresh round of grief struck her thinking of how Arsenic must feel to learn about his daughter's death in this way.

Arsenic took a tissue from the box on the dresser and blotted his bleeding nose. “A friend at the inpatient clinic calls me when someone shows up to visit me. Can't be too careful.”

“How have you stayed hidden?” Kit asked.

“I waited until someone fitting my general description was admitted to the hospital. Then I gave him my government-issued new identity that I was supposed to use when I finished the project. I forged a fresh one for myself, one the government was unaware of.”

A simple matter for someone like Arsenic. He was smart and well-connected. “If we find and stop Incognito, then the threat against you will be eliminated.”

“One quality that I liked about you, and one of the reasons I picked you for the project, is that you're naive. Your innocence is refreshing. There are no good guys or bad guys, just people who have an agenda. Stopping Incognito won't mean that I can live my life on the grid. Someone will always want a piece of me.”

But not everyone was willing to resort to violence and kidnapping to meet their objectives. “If Incognito uses the Locker against us, they'll have access to the United States' classified intel. They'll know names of undercover operatives and mission secrets.”

Arsenic shrugged. “So what?”

“If covers are blown and information made public, agents and operatives will be killed,” Kit said.

“That's a risk every operative for the United States knows,” Arsenic said. “I'll make a deal with you. Don't blow my cover. As far as Uncle Sam knows, I'm incapacitated and won't recover. Don't follow me. Don't alert anyone that I'm alive. If you grant me this favor, I'll consider helping you.”

“Consider helping us?” Kit asked.

Arsenic's face was unreadable. “I'll be in touch when I've made a decision.”

Kit exchanged glances with Griffin.

“If that's the best you're offering, then fine. We'll keep your secret,” Griffin said.

Arsenic nodded once and left their hotel room.

“What do you make of that?” Griffin asked.

“He is a little peculiar,” Kit said. “But I think he'll help us. I think he'll do the right thing.”

“We need to head back to California,” Griffin said.

“No rest for the weary?” Kit asked, already knowing the answer.

“You can sleep on my shoulder on the flight.”

Sleeping on his shoulder was like sleeping on a rock. “Not as comfortable as you might think.”

“You can lie across my lap,” he said.

That had interesting possibilities. “Could we sleep here tonight?”

“If Arsenic knew we were here, then someone else might know,” Griffin said.

Kit took a deep breath. Another plane flight. “Can I at least negotiate for a coffee?”

* * *

Griffin preferred spending the night in a safe house more than he liked a hotel room, and as safe houses went, this one wasn't bad. Arsenic's appearance was a testament to why they were safer under the radar. Griffin had used a fake identity provided to him by the West Company to check into the hotel room in Maryland, but Griffin would not underestimate Incognito.

Griffin watched Kit pushing food around her plate.

It had been a long flight and he was tired, but until she slept, he wouldn't either.

“Two more people died. How many more will because of this project?” Kit asked. Reality was catching up with her.

“As many as Incognito kills until we stop them,” Griffin said. Which could be dozens. Incognito had come too far and had proven nothing would slow them down.

Kit circled the small wood table and pushed it away from him. She sat in his lap and laid her head on his shoulder. “Hold me. Please.”

He rested his arms against her waist. Hugs were okay. She didn't have anyone else to confide in, no one else whom she could talk with about what had happened. This was a friendship hug. Griffin liked the scent of her hair, and her body pressed to his felt good. He wouldn't let this morph in to anything else. “The woman who prefers the computer above all else is asking for human contact?”

Kit kissed the tip of his ear. “I could have been killed today. I could be killed tomorrow. I suppose that's always been true, but with assassins gunning for me, the probability is higher than random chance.”

She had her arm around his shoulders, and the other hand stroked his face. Comfort and friendship were shifting into decidedly sexual territory. It happened when they were alone and when she touched him. Heat scorched him. Sleeping with her was off the table, and everything leading to that point had scared her.

He had to keep control. Did she know what she was doing?

She shifted then, moving astride him. She rocked her hips into his.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

“You look so hot in jeans and a T-shirt,” she said. “I need to feel your skin against mine.”

He went hard at the idea and shifted his hips away. “You don't know what you're saying.” He set his hands on the seat of his chair. He could not reach for her again, not in friendship or for any other reason. His control would snap and he would have sex with her. She had asked him to. She had done things to imply she wanted him and her current position left little to the imagination. But he couldn't. Her virginity was a red flag waving back and forth, warning him to keep away. Leaving her untouched was another objective he had added to the mission.

“I get hot just looking at you,” she said.

His body hardened to a painful degree, and his brain shifted into full-on lust. Desire clamored at him to strip them naked. Logic slowed him down. He couldn't sleep with her. His mission was to protect her. His doubts about his ability to do that pressed on him. He had managed so far, but how much of that was luck?

Sleeping with a man for the first time was an experience she should have with someone special, someone who would treasure the memory, love her and give everything a woman like her deserved the first time: flowers, promises and romance.

In the safe house, they had two borderline uncomfortable beds, no wine and no champagne, and no love between them.

“Tell me what you like,” she said, reaching between them and rubbing the front of his jeans. They had been down this path before. If he let her continue, she would stop. She would become nervous, and he wouldn't have to do anything. He'd let her burn herself out.

In his current state, he wanted nothing more than to get her on her back and pound into her until she was chanting his name. Instead, he would keep his hands on the chair. She could say whatever she wanted and he would play this game, but he would not touch her.

“I like what you're doing,” he said.

She shivered. “What about your favorite position? Do you like a woman on top? Or do you like being in control?”

“I would ask you that question, because every position feels good to me, but you don't know what you like,” he said.

“You could help me figure it out,” she said. She licked her bottom lip. “I'm a big fan of experimentation.”

A little further and she would freak out and stop. This wasn't how she'd want her first time. “How do you want me to do you first? Against the wall with your legs around my waist? Or on the bed, on your hands and knees, being slammed into from behind?” he asked. He meant the words to be crude because to imply that sex between them would be anything more than a physical act was wrong.

Her eyes grew wider and he waited. Any moment now, she would stop.

“Whatever you want to do, I want you to do it hard.” She reached into his pants and he went almost mindless.

She wasn't backing down, and he was past the point where he could stop this. He removed his shirt, knowing she liked him bare-chested.

She smiled and ran one hand over his chest, her other hand still in his pants, stroking him. “Hard and hot.” She kissed his skin, running her mouth across every inch and then skating lower until she was face-to-face with his arousal.

She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants and then pulled him free.

Now she would back off. No way was this happening.

She looked at him and traced his length with her fingertip. She sucked in her breath. A woman had never looked at him this way, thinking, pining for it.

“Kit, consider what you're doing.”

“I don't know what I'm doing. I haven't done this. But I think you'll let me try.”

Some men might find an experienced woman sexier, but the awe in Kit's face and the wonder in her eyes was enough to send him over the edge.

She stuck out her tongue and licked his tip. His right hand left the chair and forked into her hair. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking just the tip, and his body bucked involuntarily. He worked to keep himself pinned to the seat. Then she put him further into her mouth. He let out his breath in a hiss.

The heat and suction of her mouth were incredible. She wrapped her hands around the base, and her mouth and hands moved in sequence.

He should have stopped her long before now, but her bobbing head and the sensation rolling over him made that impossible.

Then she lifted her eyes and met his gaze. He went off. Realizing it might be too much for her, he pulled her away. She had a look of shock and excitement on her face.

“I did it,” she said. “Did you like it?”

What could he say to her? She seemed vulnerable, anxious for praise, and he wanted to find the right words. “It was phenomenal. Great technique.”

“I'll have to try that again.”

Possessiveness hit him like a knife to the stomach. He pulled her against him. “You will not do that with another man. Not while we are together.”

Kit touched the corner of her mouth. “Then you and I will do that again.”

“Will you let me do the same to you?”

He reached into her pants, slipping his hand over her panties, and found her wet, almost dripping through the silky cloth. “You want more. You want me.”

He wanted to push his fingers inside her and give her a series of orgasms that would leave her dizzy, but knowing he was the first man to do this with her, he wanted it to be tender, as well.

“I told you I wanted you.” She sounded breathless, and her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

Promising himself this wouldn't escalate into intercourse, he stood, swept her into his arms, and laid her on the narrow bed.