Circe's Recruits 1: Roane (4 page)

Kelly gave him a stiff nod and left. Evan picked up the phone, sighing at the mess on his expansive mahogany desk. Hell, he couldn’t see the desktop anymore. Time to let Kelly organize again, as she’d been threatening to do for weeks.

“Hale?” he said into the phone, recognizing the number. “Fill me in.”

“Sorry, had a bit of a…distraction here.”

“I heard.”

Hale sighed. “I’m not sure what happened. We spotted her with two of the PPA’s assholes, Hoff and Dunn. They tranq’d her, but she managed to escape. We caught her and brought her in, but not before she ripped Roane a new one.” Hale chuckled. “We were halfway here when she lit up the vehicle with the sweetest perfume you’ve ever smelled. She went into heat in a split second.”

“I have nothing on file that she’d changed before.”

“I got the impression it was new to her, too. She looked panicked when we took her, and we overheard her complaining about being sick when Dunn and Hoff found her.”

“Where is she now?”

“In the shower with Roane.” A wealth of meaning filled that small statement. “We’ll be bringing her in shortly. I don’t think she’s rogue, just confused and afraid.”

“And?”

Hale paused. “Nothing. We’ll be there in an hour.” Hale disconnected.

Evan stared at the phone as he hung up. In the shower with Roane? Since when had Roane ever personally cared for anyone outside of his squad? Then again, Caitlyn was the first female Circ -- hell, the first Circ period -- they’d encountered who hadn’t been feral.

Evan could only imagine what the squad went through when the mating heat overcame them. Seven years to the day after they’d been given their injections, they’d experienced their first heat. Since then, every few weeks the men were flooded with hormones that made it virtually impossible to resist the call to procreate. Unfortunately, they could only go to another mature Circ. And Circe’s Recruits were all male.

He shifted uncomfortably, frowning at his lack of professionalism. The men didn’t need his lurid interest, though he blamed most of it on scientific curiosity. Instead, Evan concentrated on the girl. Caitlyn Chase. She’d been under Pearson Labs’ care for more than half her life. Then three years ago, they’d told her to leave, without reason. He could only guess that Elliot had lost his patience. The owner and head scientist at Pearson Labs, Elliot Pearl had a reputation as brutal and coldly efficient. Whatever the man’s motivations, he had every intent of making them real.

Eight years ago, when the military had okayed Project Dawn, Evan had been as excited as anyone about being on the team. They’d actually created a formula to build super soldiers, men able to carry out tasks for Uncle Sam with an almost certain degree of success, thanks to manufactured preternatural abilities. Using his own idea to carry the serum to their subjects on the backs of a genetically altered virus, Pearson Labs had successfully outfitted two platoons of super soldiers.

Circe’s Recruits -- seventy-eight men who were stronger, faster, and more intuitive than their fellow soldiers, airmen, Marines, and sailors. For five years, they’d carried out dangerous missions with resounding success. They manifested their abilities by changing, physically transforming into hulking beasts with slashing claws, fangs, and hardened skin.

And then the virus inside them, thought dormant, mutated the Circe serum, eroding their mental processes.

Many Circs suffered from psychotic breakdowns and became savages, with no thought other than to satiate their base desires.

Of the seventy-eight men, fifty had fallen into psychotic breakdowns, death their only means of control. Of the remaining twenty-eight, they’d lost twenty-three while tracking down and combating their out-of-control brethren. Only Roane, Hale, Derrick, Zack, and Ace had survived.

Elliot Pearl had conveniently ignored his failures and concentrated on all the good they’d done. The government hadn’t seen it that way. Project Dawn had been disbanded.

Pearson Labs moved once again into the private sector. And Evan -- “Doc” to his men -- took over their small squad of Circs.

With his substantial fortune, he put his all into helping the men who’d survived -- they were his responsibility. There had been plenty of time for self-recrimination while they’d battled the government’s interest. Evan had used every connection he’d ever made to force the United States military to leave Circe’s Recruits alone. Not to mention threats of blackmail and political fallout, should the public know what the government had sanctioned.

The squad faded away, no longer on anyone’s radar but Elliot’s. The bastard thought he could recreate Project Dawn, conveniently ignoring the madness that had befallen them just three years ago. In that time, Doc and the squad worked to control new variations on the “super soldiers” Elliot and the other scientists had created. In so doing, they also strove to eliminate all of Elliot’s mistakes.

Evan sat at his desk, pushed aside a stack of fallen folders, and dug out his keyboard. He reviewed his data. Since the project folded, the squad had uncovered and killed forty-six Circs. Four lived in anonymity, but Evan kept his eyes on them. As much as he wanted to bring them in for testing, they deserved to live as best they could before full maturity set in.

From what he’d determined, the Circe serum increased all the senses, enhanced intuition, and made stronger, quicker, more effective fighting machines. Once full maturity blossomed, the mating instinct took over at monthly and sometimes bimonthly intervals.

Hence the squad’s mating heat, which threw even these solid, dependable warriors into manic, lust-filled states.

“In the shower with Roane,” sounded in his mind again. A female Circ in heat. The possibilities that allotted for intrigued the hell out of Evan. He had no hope that the men might let him observe their next heat with Caitlyn, but perhaps he could ferret more information from them and her when they arrived. Anything they told him would remain in strictest confidence, and it might help explain a few things. Such as why the PPA was after Caitlyn, and why Roane was suddenly acting very unlike himself.

* * * * *

Caitlyn groaned as awareness returned. Her body ached, her teeth hurt, and her head throbbed. She felt as if she’d been beaten with a two-by-four all over the place.

“Hold on. We’re almost there.” The gruff voice sounded familiar.

She opened her eyes and found herself carried by a giant, dark-haired male. She wore an overlarge T-shirt and shorts -- not her own -- under a bright blue sky. The sun beat down on them, as hot as it had been in the outdoor plaza. In seconds she made the connection. He was one of the he-men from the alley.

“What do you want with me? Are you PPA?” She squirmed in his arms, uncomfortable at how much she wanted to stay near the steady thrum of his heart.

The man paused. The group with him slowed as well. Caitlyn shifted to see four more men as muscular as this one surrounding them. A sandy-haired man smiled and winked. A Native American and his gray-eyed friend nodded at the same time. The fourth male, a large African American, gave her a grin that made her feel surprisingly safe, despite being given by a man who could crush her like a bug with those large hands and huge biceps.

“We’re not PPA.” The man holding her said in a harsh voice. He stared down at her with dark brown eyes, his gaze intent.

“Well, somebody beat me.” She swallowed loudly and tried to appear in control. But damn, how could she maintain that facade while in this giant’s arms? “I feel sore all over.”

Her captor didn’t blink. “What’s the last thing you remember about today?” The others grew still.

“I was attacked on the beach. I ran, ducked into an alley, and met you guys. Then I must have passed out.” Or been knocked out by whatever Simon or Vincent shot me with.

She tried to push out of his arms. He squeezed her tighter, and she finally surrendered to his overpowering strength.

The African American man gasped. “You don’t remember --”

“Derrick,” the sandy-haired male cautioned. “Let’s get Doc to take a look at her.”

“Oh, come on, Hale. You can’t be telling me she doesn’t remember taking three --”

“Derrick, shut the fuck up,” the man holding her growled. Literally growled.

“That’s just not right,” Derrick grumbled. “Talk about love ’em and leave ’em.”

“Derrick,” Hale snapped. “Put a sock in it.”

“Or a foot,” the gray-eyed man said. “Ace usually goes with the foot.”

“Up yours, Zack,” the Native American returned.

Caught in the byplay, it was a moment before Caitlyn realized they’d begun moving again. She continued to study the men around her, curious that she didn’t sense a threat from any of them. She’d always had a decent sense of others, but now, she could almost guarantee none of these men would hurt her. A woman’s intuition times twenty.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that all five of them were heart-stoppingly attractive. Not pretty by any stretch, they all possessed a certain quality, a raw readiness and strength that she found particularly striking. None more so than the man carrying her.

“I got the other names. Who are you?” she asked quietly.

“Roane.”

“Our fearless leader,” Hale said with a grin. “He’s a good man to have on your side.”

“Or inside you,” she thought she heard Derrick mutter.

One look from Roane, and Zack and Ace grabbed Derrick, pulling him behind.

“We’ll meet you inside,” Zack said, glaring at Derrick.

Hale opened a small, wall-mounted box next to the door, revealing a keypad. He punched in several numbers, and a lock released. Pushing open the large oak door in front of him, he waited for Roane. Before they entered, Caitlyn scented salt in the air.

“Are we by the ocean?”

No one answered her. They moved into a homey entryway, which led into a large family room. Plush, coral-colored cushions lay on the wicker furniture. Two sofas faced each other over a glass table. Photographs of the men together and apart decorated the mantle of a white-tiled fireplace. A young woman and an older man were also in several of the photos…sitting at least twenty feet away from where they stood. How the hell can I see that far?

Roane chose that moment to turn down a hallway. He caught her closer to his chest, and heat gathered between her legs. Startled, she studied him, intrigued by his innate sensuality. He remained oblivious to her scrutiny, and she reluctantly turned her attention back to her surroundings.

By all appearances, they’d entered someone’s home. A large home, but a residence all the same. They walked past several bedrooms and what looked like a study. At the end of the hallway sat a wide oak door. The master bedroom, maybe?

To the left of the door was a placid watercolor, a nicely done rendition of the dunes of Cape May, according to the footnote at the bottom, which she shouldn’t have been able to see from so far away. They approached the door. Hale lifted the picture to reveal another keypad. More beeps and then the door opened, the sound of air hissing like a pressure lock.

Growing more nervous, Caitlyn flinched when Roane’s large palm eased her head against his chest. “Easy,” he murmured, and like that, she felt better.

They entered a roomy, steel-walled elevator. After moving down what felt like several stories, the elevator stopped, and they exited into a sterile hallway. Rooms lined both sides of the passage, some walled in glass, some not. What looked like lab equipment and computers crowded each room. Clean, blue ceramic floor tiles, cheery yellow walls, and overhead inset lights lent the entire space a professional, yet comfortable, atmosphere -- the total opposite of Pearson Labs’ oppressive pea green walls, stark gray cement floors, and flickering fluorescent lights. The rooms in which Caitlyn had been tested reminded her of torture chambers, though that could have been due to the labs’ less-than-friendly scientists.

To her surprise, all the rooms here remained empty save one, the one they entered.

“Caitlyn.” A handsome, gray-haired man smiled at her. His blue eyes twinkled behind gold-rimmed glasses. He wore slacks and a dress shirt under an oversized lab coat, all covering a wiry frame. “Welcome to the compound. I’m Doc.” Roane set her down gently. She wobbled on her feet, clutching at his arm so as not to fall on her face. Weakness invaded her limbs. She felt not at all herself but managed a shaky smile.

“Thanks. I think.”

Muttering under his breath, Roane took her in his arms again and deposited her on the lab table in the center of the room. He didn’t immediately let go, but trailed his fingers down her arms to her hands, where he swept his thumbs over her palms. Had she not known better, she’d swear he was purring. She felt possession in his touch, and the rightness of it confused her.

“You two can go.” Doc motioned Roane and Hale to the door. Neither man moved. Doc raised his eyebrows. “Problem?”

Roane scowled and slowly stepped back from Caitlyn. “We’ll be down the hall if you need us,” he said, more to her than to Doc. Then he stalked off before anyone could say a word.

“That’s what I didn’t say before,” Hale said cryptically, glanced at Caitlyn, then followed Roane out the door.

When Caitlyn shifted her gaze from the door to Doc, he was watching her.

“Can you explain what’s happening to me?” Caitlyn meant the events of the day, but Doc answered her with a much more detailed version than she’d wanted.

“My pleasure.” He pulled up a swivel stool and began. “From the notes I’ve gathered, your father served ten years in the army special forces before he was killed.”

“Yes.” Her family had been coming to pick her up from a weekend at the labs when they’d been hit by a semi. What did that have to do with the PPA and this venture down the rabbit hole?

“During his military days, your father underwent the typical vaccinations of a basic entry workup. But he also received a little something extra that manifested in you, Caitlyn.”

“Come again?”

“Your father was given a particular enzyme that stimulates brain development, particularly in areas of the cerebellum and in the limbic system. The cerebellum plays a vital role in joining sensory perception and motor control. The limbic system includes such vital areas as the hypothalamus, the amygdala, and the olfactory bulb, which you Circs tend to use almost exclusively when --”