Project Terminal: Legacy (6 page)

She frowned, standing up from the chair she’d settled in. “You’re going to take on the people in the project alone?”

“I’ve trained for missions like this, and there will be few military personnel. It’s mainly scientists at the facility.”

“I’ll go with you.” She folded her arms, her chin jutting in determination.

He grinned, stuffing clothes inside a dryer. “Not that I wouldn’t love to unleash your temper on a few soldiers, but it’s best if you go home. Take care of your restaurant, it needs you.”

“Another day or two won’t matter. You’re not going by yourself, and that’s final.”

He let out a breath, turning to face her. “It’s not open for debate.”

“Exactly.”

He faced a human brick wall. “I won’t put you in anymore danger, Laura.”

“I survived a zombie attack, so I think I can survive some jackass science nerds.”

He didn’t have the energy to argue. “We’ll run out to Doug’s place this evening and see if he has any news. He was supposed to get to your blood sample this morning, so maybe he has some cursory information for us.”

She crinkled her nose. “As long as I don’t have to see the blood, I’m fine.”

“I thought only needles scared you,” he teased.

“Blood, needles, it’s all the same to me.”

The day passed quickly, finding a new motel—staying in one place would make them an easy target—buying food, always keeping an eye over his shoulder. Doc and the others would be desperate to find them, and he hoped they wouldn’t think to question Doug. He wanted to keep the man out of it as much as possible.

When night crept over the horizon, he and Laura made for Doug’s home. Pulling up the scientist’s drive, he noticed light from inside leaking through a small crack in the door. Why would the door be ajar? Instinct left him wary of any inconsistencies, even minor ones.

“Wait here,” he told Laura, dismounting. He checked the clip in the Glock.

“What? No, it’s creepy out here.”

He scowled at her. “Something’s not right, and I don’t know if we’re walking into a trap.”

“Well, if we are what am I supposed to do? Go running into the swamp with the alligators? Because I sure as hell can’t drive this motorcycle. I’m safer with you.” Her eyes flashed in the low lighting.

He bumped the Glock against his thigh. “If you’d stayed at the motel like I asked, this wouldn’t even be an issue, Laura.”

“Did you see those druggies in the room next door? I’m not going to stay there and be part of some drive-by shooting.”

He rubbed his free hand over his face, he’d never met such a handful in a pretty, little package.

“Stick behind me, and if I tell you to run, you run like a bat out of hell. Got it?”

She squared her shoulders. “Got it.”

He eased toward the front door, his ears keen on any unusual sound, his gaze sweeping every tree, every stand of high grass. Pausing at the open door, he peeped inside. The living room lay in chaos, shards of glass littering the floor, furniture upturned.

“Wait here,” he whispered.

For once, Laura didn’t argue. He checked the rooms, no sign of the scientist or an intruder.

“Wow, what happened?” Laura asked, coming inside after he nodded for her to enter.

“Looks like someone trashed the place looking for something. And I have a feeling it has to do with us. I’m going to look around outside.”

“You think Doug’s okay?” she asked before sucking her top lip between her teeth.

He didn’t answer and strode outside to do a sweep.

Chapter 7

Laura stared around the fresh disaster making up Doug’s living room. She didn’t know the man, but the idea he’d come to harm helping them didn’t sit well. Baseballs from his collection lay scattered over the floor. She knelt, picking one up, noting it was signed but she didn’t know the game well enough to recognize the name. A bad feeling settled inside her gut, a prickling racing down her neck and backbone. She slowly turned toward the door and dropped the baseball.

Doug stood in the doorway, or at least what had once been Doug. Sunken, glassy eyes watched her from behind the Coke-bottle glasses, thin lips pulled back over his teeth.

He’d become a zombie thing. She sucked in a breath to scream for Damian, stepping back from the horrible monster. A ball caught under her heel, and she lost her balance, taking a hard fall on her butt, knocking the wind from her lungs. The thing was on her, hissing. She punched it in the face, trying to draw air into her lungs. It kept coming, teeth snapping for her throat. She was in the alley all over again fighting for her life.

It lurched away from her. Damian had it by the shirt, and an instant later lodged a bullet in its head. She lay back, sucking ragged breaths down, the stink of the thing clinging to her new clothes.

“Are you okay? Did it bite you?” Damian fell to his knees next to her, stroking her hair back.

“Hollywood crazy,” she mumbled.

“What?” His eyebrows drew together.

She pushed up to a seated position. “My life’s turned Hollywood crazy.” He helped her to her feet. “So what now?”

“I don’t think this is an accident. I think someone from the project got to him.”

“With the virus?” She grew sick to her stomach.

“Which means they’re close on our asses. We have to get out of here
now
.” He grabbed her hand and froze. Laura looked to the front door behind him and gasped.

“Damian.” A tall woman stood with two armed men pointing guns at them.

Damian turned and stepped in front of her. Laura peered around his bicep.

“Doc,” he said in reply. “I assume you had something to do with Doug’s death.”

The woman frowned. “You’re sloppy. A year ago we wouldn’t have gotten the drop on you like this. No, don’t think about it.” Damian had moved his hand behind his back to his gun. “Place it over there on the ground, so one of my men can retrieve it.”

“I’m getting tired.” He bared his teeth, his muscles flexed. He did as commanded and one of the soldiers snagged it off the floor.

“And this is the woman with the immunity I take it?”

Laura moved from behind Damian, initial fear giving away to anger.

“My name is Laura, and I take it you’re one of the psychotic idiots responsible for nearly killing me. Twice.”

Damian shot her a dark look, which she read as
shut up
, but she’d speak her peace.

“Let me tell you something, you need a foot squarely up your ass. What were you thinking manipulating the rabies virus? And why the hell would you kill Dr. Martin?”

Her lips split in a smile. “Feisty thing you have here, Damian. I bet she’s a real hellcat in the sack. I know how you like that sort of thing.” She gave him a sultry look, ignoring Laura’s glare. “We used Doug as a distraction while we moved in. I’d hoped you’d come by tonight, we couldn’t risk taking you in town at the motel. Too many witnesses.”

How well did they know each other? The insinuation rankled Laura further. She balled her fingers to fists, but before she could charge forward, Damian’s hand snapped closed around her upper arm in a bruising grip.

The five of them stood in standoff.

“Your catching up to me this quickly tells me I’ve been tagged, right?” Damian’s voice sounded sinister, and though the look on his face appeared impassive, he studied the armed men.

“Of course. You’re an asset to the program, we have to be aware of where you are at all times.” Doc tucked her brown hair behind her ears. “So why don’t we come to an agreement on the woman?”

“Laura,” Laura snapped.

“Now I know you can handle these two men,” Doc continued, ignoring her, “and the two waiting by the back door. But chances are she’ll get caught in the crossfire and then be useless for the both of us. We can handle this like the civil individuals we are. She comes with us, we run a few tests, and then everyone’s on their way home. This might’ve been prevented if Doug had turned over her blood vials, but he’s hidden the damn things.”

Damian made a low sound much like a growl. “Or better still you leave now and no one goes home with a broken neck.” He leveled his gaze on the men who shot looks back and forth.

Doc shook her head and stepped out of the room.

“Stay down,” Damian commanded. Laura glanced up, but before she could respond he shoved her to the floor. Gunshots erupted, and she crabwalked behind the overturned couch and peeked around.

Damian’s military training amazed her. He moved swiftly, grabbing the end of one gun, wrenched it free and fired on the second man within the span of seconds. The first gunman made to run but Damian shot him, before turning to face two others rushing in from the kitchen. His gun jammed, and he charged forward like a bull, shoving them through the kitchen door.

She looked back to the open doorway to find Doc inside surveying the damage. Fury exploded and she balled her fists, storming toward the woman, drawing a hand back to punch her square in the face.

Doc deflected the attack and flipped her over, placing her flat on her butt.

“Krav Maga training, just so you don’t try that stunt again.”

Laura clenched her teeth together and got to her feet, stumbling away. She turned and squeezed the baseball she’d snagged off the floor. Winding her arm, the ball flashed through the air, catching Doc in the face. Blood splattered from her nose as she collapsed.

“Fast-pitch softball champion three years in a row, bitch.”

* * * *

“Damn.” Damian couldn’t help but smile in Laura’s direction. “Maybe I should’ve let you handle a couple of the men too.”

Her gaze fired at him. “Hey, I have skills. I never knew playing softball would come in so handy one day.” Her eyes widened. “You’re hurt.”

He looked down, the front of his shirt bloodied, partly his own, partly the others. He’d taken a bullet in the shoulder, but they were safe. Thank God Laura was safe and unharmed.

She walked up to him and paled. “Oh God, there’s so much blood.”

He used his good arm to reach for her, cupping her cheek. “It’s not all mine, but we’ll have to dig this bullet out of my shoulder when we get back to the motel.”

Her mouth fell open. “What? You need a hospital, Damian. I can’t go operating on you, I’ll pass out.”

“You’ll do fine.” He returned to the kitchen, stepping over the bodies of the men. When he returned to Laura he held out a bottle of whiskey he’d grabbed. “Liquid courage and antiseptic rolled into one.”

He strode for the door, and Laura paused at the woman knocked out cold on the floor. “What about her?”

“She’ll sleep for a while, it’ll give us time.”

They left the house and walked down the driveway. She climbed on the Harley and wrapped around him. Adrenaline dulled the edges of the bullet wound as he muscled the Fat Boy over the rutted drive until he got to the highway. The ride back to the motel stretched on, and he’d never been so happy to see a seedy place. He grabbed a small box out of his saddlebag and joined Laura inside the motel room. He organized the supplies.

“I can’t do this.” Laura looked ready to pass out.

Damian sat in a chair, a pair of tweezers, scissors, bandages, dental floss, darning needle, and a scalpel, part of the med kit he carried, laid out on the small table next to him. “You have to, Laura. The bullet is too deep, I can’t do it by myself without making things worse.”

She rubbed a hand over her face and paced. “I’m going to throw up.”

He gave her his best smile of reassurance and took a swig of whiskey before handing her the bottle. “Get some of this in you and you’ll feel better. It’s cheap but effective.”

She wrinkled her nose but snatched the bottle and put it to her lips. After a long swallow, she gagged. “Oh God, that’s terrible. I need a chaser.”

She grabbed a soda out of the cooler and gulped some of it down, followed it with another drink of whiskey, then another shot of soda. She gave him a thumb’s up. “’kay, ready as I’ll ever be.” She picked up the scalpel. “Now, what do I do?”

He took the whiskey and poured it in the bullet hole. Pain shot through him and he couldn’t quell a gasp. Her look of confidence wavered, but he forced a smile.

“Okay, you’ll need to cut the wound bigger then use the tweezers to dig out the bullet.” He took a swig from the bottle. “It’s deep so you’ll have to really get in there.”

“You need a hospital, Damian.” Her gaze pleaded.

“I can’t do that, not with the project on our asses. And my vitals aren’t normal, there would be too many questions I couldn’t answer.”

Laura took a shaky breath. “Well, when your shoulder gets gangrene and your arm falls off don’t come crying to me to sew it back on.”

Despite the pain, he couldn’t help a short laugh.

The next hour and a half was hell, but he did his best to hide the discomfort from Laura. Fear pulled the color from her face as she attended to his wound, but she finished the job. With hands covered in his blood, she sat on the bed, staring past him after she’d bandaged the sutures.

“Thank you, Laura. You probably saved my life.”

Her gaze moved to her hands. She closed her eyes, then rose and went to the bathroom. Her retching soon followed. He took another hit of the whiskey and leaned back in the chair, a clammy sweat coating his skin. He needed a shower, but wouldn’t get one until the hole closed.

And as for the tracking device implanted inside him, it could be anywhere, he’d already felt over his skin but no luck.

“Fuck, why didn’t I realize they’d have a tracker in me?” he asked the empty room. Doc had been right, a year ago he’d been at the top of his game. Now his backslide taunted him. At one time he’d trusted them, even after they’d created the virus he’d held onto the notion of good intentions. It’d left him blindsided.

The shower kicked on and he wished he could stand beneath the cleansing spray with her. Despite his injuries his cock jumped at the thought and he groaned. He couldn’t give attention to either his injuries or his cock, not tonight. He had other plans that couldn’t wait. Laura came out of the bathroom, clean and redressed.

“I’m going out to their facility tonight.”