The Judas Contact (Boomers Book 1) (3 page)

“You are correct, and I’ll even resist the urge to tell you to stay when they put a steak in front of you.” Rory grinned and Ilsa’s answering laugh reminded her that, all science aside, the woman was kind, compassionate, loyal, and possessed good intentions. She needed to protect her friend.

All ethics of the chip aside, years away wasn’t the comfort it should be. Michael and the other Boomers were from a century or more in the future. Years and years away, and each of them possessed a chip.

“Let me grab my purse.” Ilsa stripped off her lab coat and retrieved her security pass from the lapel.

“Okay.” Rory returned to her own purse and opened it up. She checked the tablet’s status.
Ninety-three percent complete.
She extracted her lipstick and a compact. She took her time about checking her own appearance and touched up her make-up. But the camera tracking her from the corner stayed zeroed in on her. Three more cameras adjusted their angles.

Someone was watching them.

Not in the security booth. In fact, I’m counting eight cameras in that room. Four are linked here. The four watching you are not.
Concern edged Simon’s mental voice.
You two need to leave now.

She couldn’t agree more. Dropping the compact back inside the purse, she looked down the length of the lab. “What are you in the mood for? I was thinking seafood.”

Not that she particularly cared where they went, but the food choice warned the Boomers something was up. Her neck prickled under observation. Ilsa walked back toward her, blonde hair tugged back into a ponytail.

“Crazy as it sounds, I love the idea of the park. Hot dogs, pretzels, some sunshine, and catching up… I know it’s not the ritzy places you like, but would you mind?”

“Not at all.” She slung the purse over her shoulder. “I wanted to see you, not food, anyway.”

Ilsa bounced the last step and wrapped her arm around Rory’s shoulders. “Me too. I spend so much time in the lab. I miss seeing my peeps.”

Arm-in-arm, they headed for the door, so Rory faced the portal as it swung inwards and admitted four security guards in their head-to-toe black. The men wore neutral expressions like battle gear.

“Dr. Blaine, we’re sorry, but the director has requested we detain you.”

Ilsa’s steps faltered. “What?”

“Your guest needs to leave, and you need to come with us.” As if by prior decision, the four spread out with one guard reaching to take Rory’s arm.

“I don’t understand.” Ilsa pulled Rory back a step, shifting to stand in front of her in an almost protective gesture. “This is highly unorthodox, Mr…?”

“Dr. Blaine, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” A taser slipped into the man’s palm. Rory’s heart rate slowed as she examined their options. The four men stood around six to six-foot-three inches tall. They seemed to weigh between one hundred and eighty and two hundred pounds. The guard reaching for Rory’s arm favored his left leg, where the knee didn’t quite flex. They were balanced, controlled, and direct. Their expressions didn’t shift.

She could take down the man closest to her and intercede. Speed would be the key. She needed her shoes off. Without hose, they would fly off, and a kick and thrust with her right leg would send that shoe straight at the leader’s face.

“Rory, I don’t know what’s going on…”

You have more guards incoming. They just began initiating a lockdown.
Simon’s mental voice went cold.
Extract the scientist, Rory. Now.

 Not one to debate when the pressure was on, she squeezed Ilsa’s arm. “No worries, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.” She gave Ilsa the barest of shoves and slammed her heel down on the closest guard’s foot. His yelp ended in a scream as her second blow collapsed his knee. She threw her purse up, intercepting the needles of the taser, and jerked it out of the lead guard’s hands.

Ilsa’s startled scream echoed in her ears, but she didn’t slow down. Her left shoe flew as she flung her leg out and then she was on the three guys. Up she went, catching the first man’s shoulders and using his own momentum against him. He hit the floor and she swept her legs out to take down the second man. The third guard seized her in a chokehold, but she twisted with him, wrapping her legs around his midsection and squeezing until his eyes bulged. She drove the side of her hand against his throat and his grip loosened as he dropped like a rock.

The second man staggered to his feet and Rory bounced, flipping up and driving a fist into the soft skin at the base of his skull. He went down like a tree falling. The four men lay in a pile and she glanced over at Ilsa’s shocked face.

“Time to go, girlfriend.” Guilt assaulted her conscience, but she grabbed Ilsa’s arm and retrieved her purse. In the corner, the dogs barked and banged their cages.

“What happened?”

“I’ll explain everything once we’re out.” Rory jerked open the door and looked down the hallway. Four more men spilled through the three doors. “Michael? I need a hole.”

A blast echoed through the building and alarms went off as the four men racing toward them collapsed. A hole appeared in the wall, punched through by sonic bullets that detonated on impact. Blood trickled from the ears of the fallen group, but they were still alive.

“What the hell is going on?” Ilsa’s heels dug in, but they didn’t have time for explanations.

“We’re leaving. Now. Stay close to me, and I’ll get you out.” Another explosion rocked the far side of the building. The concourse was too exposed and the elevators could be locked down. She diverted away from the fallen men and pulled Ilsa with her.

“Head to the roof. Garrett’s waiting.” Michael’s tone brooked no argument. Behind her the door crashed open and booted feet echoed in pursuit. “Still think this is overkill?”

“Smartass.” But she grinned, palming a comb from her hair and sliding it through the keycard access. The door hesitated before it popped open. She dragged Ilsa in with her and shut it, tucking the comb into the jamb as she did so.

“Rory?” Tension and fear piled on top of each other in Ilsa’s voice.

“I’ll explain everything, I promise. But right now, we need to run. Okay?” She pushed her toward the stairs and pointed upward. The door sizzled behind her as the comb fused the door shut, buying them time. Three stories below, a door slammed open.

Simon—how many?

Too many. Run.
He didn’t have to tell her twice.

Everything was happening too fast. One moment Rory was dropping in to take her to lunch and, the next, Director Chambers’ goons wanted to detain her. Ilsa dragged her heels as Rory all but shoved her up the stairs. “We can’t go this way. It leads to the roof.” And to the private labs in sections eight through ten. Not only could they not get into those labs, they stood a real risk of being shot on sight.

But her friend was implacable. “Up, Ilsa. Just keep climbing.” Below them, doors slammed and booted feet hit the stairs. For a dizzying moment, all Ilsa could imagine were the jackboots of Nazis marching, the images overlaying the surreal moment. She twisted to argue as a security guard lunged around the corner.

“Rory!” Fear ripped through her gut. The guard was huge, his expression a fierce mask and his arms, easily as big as her thighs, tried to lock around her sorority sister. The black-haired beauty, with her seeming delicate fragility, stunned her by latching her hands onto the railing and literally flying over it, legs wrapping the bigger man and spinning him. He slammed into the wall and Rory delivered three sharp jabs, two to his eyes and a third to the bulging vein in his neck.

He dropped and Rory snagged ahold of her arm and pushed her again. “Let’s go. We’ve got more incoming.”

“What are you?” Adrenaline surged through her system, and she tried to drag to a stop. Her mind couldn’t process everything happening at once. Rory spun away from her and she managed to look back as two more men flew down the stairs. It wasn’t possible. Rory never stopped moving. She barely looked at them and flew up, body twisting, fists jabbing, feet striking, and her opponents went down like dominoes. The smart skirt she wore was torn in strips, flapping around her legs like three banners.

Blackish bruises discolored her calves and two of her toes were purpling. “You broke something.”

“Don’t make me tell you to keep moving again.” Something cold infused that warning and Ilsa fled upwards, obeying her friend. Four more flights then they raced past heavy metal barriers on a stairwell remarkably different from every other floor—at Section Ten, Rory hesitated. Ilsa’s chest burned as she wheezed for air. Her idea of a workout was a brisk walk at lunch and hours spent on her feet in her lab. Her quadriceps burned and she was fairly certain she’d strained something in her ass.

Something crashed against the metal door and Ilsa flattened herself against the wall. Rory spun in a half-circle and stared at the door. A furred face appeared in the tempered glass window—a face that wasn’t remotely human. A roar of fury pounded against Ilsa’s ears and she shoved her hand against her mouth to keep the scream at bay. Keen intelligence shimmered in the creature’s eyes and hate surged in it as the beast ignored Rory and glared at Ilsa.

“What the fuck are you?” Rory’s murmured question, so obviously not directed at her, kickstarted Ilsa’s brain from fear to analysis.

“Section Ten—this is the no man’s land. We need to get out of here.” R.E.X. Labs experimented in any number of weaponized options, from super soldiers to super technology. But not all of their experiments were successful and some were downright dangerous. Section Ten required clearance on the highest levels—despite the Director’s one time offer to bring her aboard these elite projects, Ilsa had refused.

She was a pacifist at heart. She preferred working with animals.

The creature roared again. “Rory, we need to go.” Ice slithered along her spine. Bile burned her throat.

“Yeah, we’re going.” By mutual consent, they jogged up the last twenty-eight steps, the beast’s roars following them to an impenetrable looking steel door, crisscrossed by sensors.

“We can’t get out this way.” Ilsa sagged against the wall. She could barely catch her breath. Every shallow pant lanced more flame into her already oxygen-starved lungs. Fingers against her wrist, she shuddered at the rapid-fire speed of her pulse. One hundred and fifty beats per minute was too fast. She needed to slow it down. The heart murmur she’d been diagnosed with as a child pinched with every squeeze.

“Back up a step.” Rory pulled her away from the door and pushed her against the other wall. “Head down.”

Wild fear raced through her,  and she ducked obediently. Ozone scorched the air and metal ground on metal. The sound ripped through the silence, halting even the mad pounding of boots and the creature’s roars below. Sunlight blinded her as Rory tugged her back into motion. A figure, bigger than the insane guard below, stared at them through the now melted door.
Melted.

A heavy portion of steel flowed like slag, hardening into a shapeless blob against the frame. Jerking her gaze up, she stared into the most potently beautiful green eyes she’d ever seen. They shimmered in the too bright light—as though suffused from the inside out. Her breath clogged in her throat and her heart felt like it had paused mid-beat, only to thump again with more brutal force.

“Give the doctor to me. The captain wants you off the roof.” He extended a leather-clad arm, his fingers stretched expectantly. She would never want to meet this man in a dark alley—or anywhere there wasn’t a lot of light for that matter. Beyond the exquisite beauty of his eyes was a raw tension in his face, both fierce and frightening. Her insides went liquid with the most curious sensation, but a slam from below drove any analysis away. Maybe her mind had snapped under the pressure, but she trusted this man and she took the hand he offered.

Cool leather gloved fingers fisted around hers and tugged her forward. She let him guide her through the opening, Rory flattening a hand against her back—whether to offer comfort or to make sure she didn’t flee, she couldn’t really say. Outside, Ilsa blinked at the sunshine. The roof seemed so ordinary after the mad exodus up the stairs. The two hustled her toward the southwest corner. The rolling landscape of the R.E.X. complex swam up toward her and she dug in her heels.

“No, no…no, I can’t—what are we doing?” Panic jacked up her spine, but her escort didn’t release her. He didn’t even drag her. Instead, he wrapped a steel banded arm around her and pulled her right up to his chest.
Oh my God. He’s so big.
She was a tall woman, taller than Rory and most of her sorority sisters. Five-foot-ten was nothing to sneeze at and was why she preferred flats to heels. But she barely reached this guy’s chin.

She beat a hand against his chest as he continued to fast-walk toward the edge—were they going to kill her?

“Shh.” Brilliant green eyes clashed with hers and her heart hiccupped. “You’re not going to fall.” The warm scent of patchouli and sandalwood tickled her nose and she sucked in a deep breath, filling her lungs with his underlying masculine wildness. A sharp sting pricked her neck, then euphoria surged up, blotting out the fear, and her muscles sagged with relief. The pounding of her heart stopped bruising her ribs.

“What did you do?” Rory’s agitation barely scored against the bliss enveloping her mind. It would be all right. Everything would be fine. She opened her mouth to tell her sorority sister just that. But they weren’t paying any attention to her. Over Green Eyes’ shoulder, she stared at the men racing toward them. Rory would kick their asses, didn’t they know that? But instead of engaging them, they just blew back, one at a time—slamming into the roof as though punched by invisible fists.

Huh.

Green Eyes climbed up onto the ledge and she turned to look over her shoulder. The ground raced up to meet them. She waited bemusedly for the pain, but it didn’t come. Green Eyes landed on his feet—like a cat—and the smooth motion gave way to a jagged race as he ran. Amazingly enough, the R.E.X. facility retreated over his shoulder.