The Judas Contact (Boomers Book 1) (17 page)

“No.” The resolute rejection from all three shut her down.

Abandoning Michael, Rory circumvented Garrett and wrapped an arm around her. She was wearing her uniform, the white spandex armor that didn’t seem all that tough and accentuated every curve. Her black hair was swept back from her face and a mask rested on top of her head like some kind of headband or odd shaped sunglasses. “Sweetie, whatever this is—it’s physical and a threat. If you’re here, we’re all going to be focused on protecting you and not containing it. I know you want to help, but the best help you can give us is to be out of the line of fire.”

“You’re not even sure it’s a threat.” But she relaxed a fraction with Rory’s arm around her. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend they weren’t in the middle of another crisis, that her roommate wasn’t some kind of superhero, and she wasn’t trapped by some mad scientific plot invasion from the future. But pretense only lasted so long.

“True.” Rory nodded,
sshhing
Michael when he opened his mouth. “But we don’t know that it isn’t. Would it help if I promise we will do our best to contain and do no harm? Once we have it secure, you can come back and take a look at it—”

“The hell she will.” Garrett growled and pinned Rory with a look. Michael took three steps in and suddenly the testosterone punched the air up to cloying and thick. The men glared at each other.

Sighing, Rory turned her back on the two of them. She wrinkled her nose. “Ignore them for a moment and look at me.”

A hard order to obey when Garrett’s ferocity left her belly tingling and warmth cocooned her soul. She’d never had anyone who wanted to protect her like that. Sucking in a noisy breath through her nose, she forced her gaze to meet Rory’s violet eyes. “I’m listening.”

“You’re a civilian. No matter how brilliant you are, you cannot take on a physical threat. Whatever this creature is, it’s not a scientific problem for you to solve. We need you alive to do your work. You need to let us do ours.” Her former roommate’s argument offered a big fat red bow of logic, but it didn’t change her reluctance. “Garrett will look after you.”

“I’m not worried about that.” And she wasn’t. She pulled away from Rory and rubbed her hands against her face. Arguing with them wouldn’t get her anywhere. “Look, I know Garrett will keep me safe. I
trust
him. I just think I could be more useful to you here.”

“Not if the creature is hunting you, Doctor Blaine,” Michael snapped with impatience. “Then you become a liability.”

“Seriously, Michael, tact. It’s a great skill. Look it up.” Rory made bug eyes at her man and he shook his head, ignoring her.

Ilsa suppressed a smile. They were cute together, though the fierce pair may not appreciate the label.

“Leave her alone, Michael. She’s given us a hell of a lot more than we deserve. We disrupted her life, remember?” Garrett motioned Michael back, closing the distance between them without actually touching him.

“I’m aware, Garrett. Right now, I’m interested in keeping our focus on the job, not on comforting her. We all have work to do.” The tension spiked between the pair and Rory gave Ilsa a hard look. She was the cause of the potential violence, so it was up to her to defuse it.

“Fine. I’ll go. Garrett, let’s get the rest of what we need and get out of here.” She didn’t miss the way his shoulders relaxed, nor the triumphant look Rory sent to Michael, but she didn’t have time to analyze either. She circled all of them, choosing to walk behind Garrett rather than between him and Michael. It seemed the more reasonable course to choose.

Rex winked at her as she stepped out of the room. He leaned against the wall across from the bedroom. “Good choice, doc.” The first was low, as if it was meant just for her, and he raised his voice for the rest. “Simon’s on the phone, Michael. He said you’re ignoring him again.”

Michael snorted. “He’s got to learn to be patient.”

For some reason, that generated laughter from the other three. An ache echoed in her chest, hollow of the shared humor. She didn’t linger, heading down the stairs two at a time. Garrett’s footsteps echoed hers as he followed. He said something about the kitchen, so she diverted there to pack sandwiches and cold foods into the cooler. He crowded behind her, but didn’t touch her or speak.

Fortunately, none of the others followed. Garrett never seemed to mind when she didn’t talk. She made the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches he favored and stacked turkey and Swiss together for herself.

Garrett stacked two cases of water onto the counter and poured the coffee pot’s contents into a thermos. They’d been at the house just for a few days, but it felt like weeks. Maybe that was why she was so reluctant to leave. Sacking up the sandwiches, she tucked them into the cooler. She sealed up all the containers and put them away. They’d used the last of the bread, but she was sure that those capable of handling the more
physical
threats could purchase more if they needed it.

Shutting the cooler, she pulled her hands away when Garrett picked it up. Resentment bubbled up inside of her, but she swallowed it back down. She was perfectly capable of carrying a cooler, but he didn’t take any notice of her, loaded it on top of the cases of water and carried the whole lot.

Trailing after him, she was surprised that none of the others came to see them off. The rational part of her mind suggested they had work to do. The creature might be on foot, but they weren’t sure how long it had been on the move. In the garage, she waited while Garrett loaded the last of the supplies and bags into the van. He shut the side door and looked at her. “It’s going to be fine, Ilsa.”

“I know. You guys will handle the heavy lifting. I’ll just load up like the rest of the cargo.” Her mouth pinched together, biting off the words. She was better than this and she knew it. The argument against her staying was a compelling one. She didn’t need to make it more difficult than what they were already facing. But she didn’t want to leave.

He opened the passenger door and gave her a small smile. “You are not cargo. You’re a valued ally and resource. I—we—don’t want to lose you.”

That sounded moderately better and she dredged up a smile for him. She never behaved like a brat. Why she felt like acting like one now, she didn’t know. “I get that—intellectually.” She tapped her forehead and climbed into the van, tucking her legs in. Garrett waited until she was settled before shutting the door.

“It’s hard to be the one who waits,” he told her as he slid into the driver’s seat. He turned on the engine and engaged the garage door to open. “But it hardly diminishes your value. If Michael thought he could get away with sending Rory off, too, he would.”

“Yeah?” Strangely, that did offer some comfort.

“Yes.” Garrett shrugged, turning the van around, and then they were driving down the long stretch to the main road. “He wants her safe.” The sunlight stabbed at her eyes. It was late in the day. She’d expected it to be closer to morning, but the sun already hovered on the western horizon. She’d lost track of time in the house, with its shuttered windows and lack of natural light. Garrett motioned to the glove box. She popped it open and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. He already wore a dark pair of wraparound shades.

“Thanks.” She murmured, guilt stabbing through the resentment. He took care of her, even when she got bitchy about it.

“You’re welcome.”

“And I’m sorry you have to babysit me. I’m sure you’d rather be dealing with the problem.”

“No other place I’d rather be.” He stretched out a gloved hand and, for the barest of seconds, she imagined it was to touch her leg, but it closed on the gear shift. His fingers flexed as he switched gears and it stayed there.

So close.
But, ultimately, too far.

Pulling a knee up, she wrapped her arms around her leg and clasped her fingers together. Better to keep from touching him. Her gaze stole down to his hand. The gloves would protect her from his touch. But her left wrist throbbed in gentle reminder. He didn’t want her touch. He didn’t want the contact.

He protected her.

She sighed. Reason warred with emotion. She preferred intellectual debate to those settled by physics but, unfortunately, their argument was rational. Her presence would be a liability. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Garrett cast a look toward her.

“For being bitchy and difficult. I don’t get why I’m doing that today. You’re all correct. I just—I just wish I was more helpful.”

“You’ve had a lot to cope with, Ilsa.” His gentle voice carried so much kindness it made the guilt stabbing her heart sharper. “We understand. It will all work out. We’ll return to the house soon enough.”

“Will we? Or will we finish the work and you’ll send me away for my own safety?” She hadn’t missed those conversations, when he thought she was so wrapped in her work that he could speak freely. She’d heard them all, but preferred to give him a modicum of privacy.

“One crisis at a time.” The answer didn’t offer any comfort. She turned her head to look out the window. She could stare at him all day, but staring led to wanting. Better to not want what he wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her have. The sun descended quickly in the autumn. The air outside would turn cooler. She’d worn sweatpants over her shorts and a light jacket over her tank. But they couldn’t warm the chill of loneliness inside.

“Will you tell me about where you came from?” She hadn’t asked before, not wanting to be compelled by emotion when she needed to be guided by science and fact. She needed proof, not instinct.

“Nothing to tell.” His voice hushed as they followed the signs onto the expressway, accelerating away from the oasis of the Hamptons house.

“Really? You come from a future so bleak you traveled back a hundred and fifty years to prevent it and you have nothing to tell?” Was it any wonder she didn’t believe him?

“It was an ugly time, Ilsa. Ugly and barren of hope.” Despite his even tone, sadness flowed beneath the words.

“I keep trying to picture it in my head. You know we look at the future and we hope for flying cars, transporters, and eradication of illness. We imagine reaching out to the stars, colonizing the moon and Mars…” Had they done any of that?

“Hovercraft existed.” One out of five did not sound promising. “Many common illnesses were eradicated. But new ones cropped up to take their place. Colonization was limited to corporations with the resources to make it there.”

“But?” She looked at him now. As expressionless as his face could be, she could read the tension in his posture better with each passing day. He did not like this conversation.

“But it wasn’t pretty. The distinction between classes was drawn with a very powerful line. One percent of the world’s population controlled and dictated the fate of the other ninety-nine percent. Corporations formed the basis for the government with CEOs and boards of directors making the laws. They decided who got the inoculations and who didn’t. They used their forces to maintain order, restricting movement to zones. You did not leave the zone you were born in. Anyone who stood up to them or fought for a freer way of life had a habit of disappearing. The lucky were killed.”

In that moment, she knew Garrett had never been lucky. “And the unlucky?”

“They ended up in internment camps, for reprogramming or experimentation. Those with abilities were the least lucky of all.” The flat tone lacked any hint of emotion, barricaded behind a stone face and rigid control.

“How long, Garrett? How long were you in one?”

“Nineteen years.” He flexed his fingers on the gear shift. “Nineteen years before they found me.”

The sun continued to sink below the horizon, blanketing darkness across the road. Headlights cut through the gloom, but they only highlighted the tautness in his expression. She reached over and laid her left hand across the back of his on the gear shift. He flinched, but he didn’t pull away. The gloves were hot to the touch, but she ignored that. He sounded so damn alone.

She said nothing, because words could hardly comfort the hell he must have experienced. She let go of the inquiry. No matter how curious she was, she didn’t want to ask him to relive that time. So she held his hand, careful to not squeeze or caress, nothing that might inspire him to pull away.

Laying her head back against the seat, she gave him his privacy, but continued to hold his hand. Her mind drifted, imagining a world where corporations ruled and, at some point, she must have fallen asleep because the hard jerking of the van dragged her awake. The wheels squealed and she tried to sit up but, illuminated by the headlights, was the snouted, furred face of the beast from the window. A scream clawed up out of her throat and then it was gone.

Garrett swore, he’d pulled a gun out and held it in one hand. A metallic thud landed against the top of the van and the roof overhead crunched inwards. The van spun and Garrett’s arm slammed across her chest, as they tumbled off the road. The world slowed down, metal screamed, tires squealed and Garrett shouted.

She seized his arm, the heat of his naked skin burning hers and then they were falling and she couldn’t hear her own scream over the crunch of metal.

Garrett’s head rebounded off the side of the van as it landed with a loud shriek of crunching metal. Fortunately, the gear in the back remained tied down and didn’t land on top of them. Above him, Ilsa hung from the seatbelt strap, eyes closed, and her limp, dangling hand brushed his cheek. Jerking away, he caught her already wrapped wrist with two gentle fingers and moved it. His heart pumped into overdrive. He needed to pull the toxin back out from her, but a growl punched through the dark air.

Smoke itched at his senses, burnt rubber mingling with scorched grass. Somewhere, the fuel leaked. He had to get her out of the van. The bent door and collapsed dashboard caged around his waist. The metal protested as he forced the steering column back. He needed to free his legs.

A snuffle whiffed through the air. Stilling, he cocked his head to listen and forced his seat back. The gun was pressed against his calf. If he could just reach it. The passenger door ripped off, but Garrett’s fingers barely grazed the edge of the gun. A furred face peered in, sniffing along Ilsa.