Deadly Genesis (Boomers Book 2) (12 page)

Too far…
Simon reminded her, jessing her to the earth, and she rolled, spreading her arms to catch the lift and then diving. The wind whistled against her ears and pushed her hair back from her face. The earth raced up to meet her and she turned, skimming the ocean, and back up.

Can you read my mind?
She laughed as the old song her mother loved to listen to wormed its way into her head.

Yes.
Sadly, he didn’t quite get the joke and then she caught a trace of mental laughter when she mouthed the words. She barrel rolled and buzzed the house, pirouetting and diving like a bird on the wind. Elation flooded through her and her smile grew. She loved flying—there was no other feeling on the planet like it. She shed stress with every swinging pass. Simon’s regard followed her and she turned her head to look down at him. He was so much larger than life, better than any other man she’d ever known. Patient. Kind.

Sexy as sin.

And he was in her head. He saw all the broken bits of her and didn’t run away. He defended her against herself and the world. But he couldn’t see the world the way she did.

Amanda…
A note of trepidation entered his mental voice, and she grinned. He saw the thought before it fully formed, and she swooped down. Plowing into him, she wrapped him up in her arms and climbed. He might be taller than her and broader of shoulder, but she bubbled the warm air around them and carried him upwards as if he were light as a feather. His gripped her, holding tight, but the uncertainty on his face gave way to a smile.

“You okay?” she murmured, nuzzling his cheek with a kiss and spiraling upwards until the cold air threatened to rob the air from their lungs.

“Yes. Aren’t I too heavy for this?” As if he couldn’t read her thoughts or maybe she’d just taken him off guard. She liked the fact that she could still surprise him.

You are a constant source of surprise, Amanda.
That pleased her, too.

“No. I can carry one person, maybe two, for a short distance. And I wanted you to know what this was like. I want you to feel the freedom.” She bit her lip and studied the grave expression in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Can you trust me? You, who see what a wreck I really am? Will you?

He didn’t answer immediately, and she found no fault with his caution. She wasn’t sure she fully trusted herself. The breeze nudged them along and she turned in lazy circles, skydancing to the music in her mind.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “I trust you.”

The words snapped the last of the shackles weighing her down, freeing her from Marley’s chains, and she slid away from him, gripping his forearms. The heated bubble still held him aloft, his weight only dragging on her lightly.

Listen for the cues in my mind. Do exactly as I do. I want to show you how to fly.

They had so many problems—not the least of which was her damaged mind. So maybe she would deteriorate and maybe there was no fix for her. That was okay. She could show Simon what flying really was.

Shhh. We will fix it.

You can’t know that.
She spun him around again, angling toward the sea.
I don’t need to be a scientist or even understand half of what Ilsa says to understand her tone. She’s upbeat, determined, and very clinical most of the time. I saw real fear and upset in her. She hates saying she doesn’t know something.

It doesn’t matter. What she doesn’t know she can learn and until then…
The determination in his voice carried her higher.
Until then you have me.

Tears filled her eyes and she nodded slowly.
And you’re stuck with me.

Not a bad thing at all…

It was all getting too maudlin for her, and she didn’t want anything to tarnish the buzz of flying.
Hold on tight.
And that was the last warning she gave him before turning and plummeting back to the earth. His arm snapped out tight. He gripped her right forearm and she gripped his left. When she threw her left arm out, he threw out his right and they skimmed over the water, racing the waves to the shore and then up again.

On their third pass, his laughter delighted her.

“You got it bad, man.” Garrett leaned against the doorframe to the office. Simon stared at the screens of collating data, not really seeing the information anymore. The more they pieced together, the more disturbing the picture became. Amanda seemed to have been all over the world—and, in nearly every location, disaster had followed hot on her heels.

“Did you speak to Ilsa?” He tabbed through the images, sorting them chronologically.

“She’s not comfortable with it. She needs to take a sample directly from the chip and, considering you’re the brain man, she doesn’t want to risk the test.” The apology in Garrett’s gruff voice betrayed his concern.
Had to fall in love with the mental defect—poor guy.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take, particularly if it helps her.” He didn’t comment on the abrasive thought. Garrett was entitled to his opinion. He wasn’t in love; he was furious at the cavalier treatment their faceless enemy took with Amanda’s life. They punched through it like a nuclear bomb, devastating the woman. That she could still smile despite the mental rape—and, make no mistake, it
was
a rape—merely encouraged his respect. He held her together, but she deserved better.

“Well, I don’t think it’s a risk Ilsa’s willing to take. And if you want my opinion—”

“I don’t.” Simon spared him a look. “I know your opinion. You, Michael, the others—everyone but Rory’s team wants to cut our losses. She is not a loss, she’s a person, Garrett. She was taken and experimented on. You of all people should appreciate the lengths we need to go to help her. Consider if we’d written you off as a loss.” Pain flickered through Garrett’s expression and his shoulders drooped. He’d spent most of his life in a cage, watching his mother endure brutal experiments and eventually take her own life. Yes, he really should understand the cost of having control stripped away.

“Okay, then let’s tackle this strategically. She has to put you out to sample the chip…”

“No, she doesn’t.” Ilsa walked up behind Garrett and ducked under his arm. They fit together like two perfect pieces of a puzzle. The easy affection he showered on the woman was a reflection of too many years of self-denial. She leaned her head back against Garrett’s shoulder and stared at Simon. “I can do an awake surgery, insert the needle and take a small sample. The lab is in shambles though and we need to replace some of the equipment. That said, it’s a bad idea, Simon. Even if you are…genetically compatible…”
…it will just hurt you more if we can’t save her.

He gave the doctor a brief smile. “Your concern is noted. I appreciate it. But we need to know.”
If my decision making process is compromised because of genetic compulsion, it is better to know now before she takes us both down the rabbit hole of madness.

He didn’t reveal the strain of holding her together—nothing emphasized it more than when they flew. He could lose himself easily in the chaos of her mind, threading together and binding their minds until where she went, so would he. Currently, he maintained control, but they couldn’t afford major distractions, and he still needed to interrogate the prisoner. When Amanda completed coloring her hair and showering, they would go into the city. He didn’t want to risk her exposure, but physical distance affected them. At least with her there, he could maintain her mental equilibrium through touch and still scan the prisoner. If needed, he could erase their encounter completely from the soldier’s mind.

Straightening, Ilsa nodded. “Give me the afternoon. I’ll get it together.”

“I have to go into the city.” A new image appeared on the screen, and Simon turned to study it. Amanda stood at the edge of a club line, her open trench coat revealing long legs and a glittery dress. She barely stood out against the colorful crowd. Unlike the others waiting, however, her attention focused like a laser beam on a person at the edge of the screen.

Forgetting his audience, he searched for where the picture came from to find other images with the same location and time stamp. The program pieced it together and provided him with a panoramic shot.

Simon recognized the club. Michael approached Rory for the first time there—and on that date. Amanda stared at Michael.

Son of a bitch.

He dropped into the chair and changed the search parameters. Pulling up their own facial details, he cross-referenced her other locations with Boomer activity. He glanced at the doorway, but Garrett and Ilsa were gone. A mental sweep found them in the lab, cleaning and taking stock of what she would need. Garrett also called Michael to warn him about Simon’s crazy ass plan. Shuffling that concern aside, he checked on Amanda. She sat in the bathroom upstairs, timing the color setting for her hair and tapping her feet to the music playing on the MP3 player he’d loaned her.

A smile curved his lips. Flying had helped her. The gnaw of fear shredding her confidence had faded to an aching nibble. It may not have been the wisest choice, but he was glad he made it. The computer began to chime. In addition to Ilsa’s laboratory, Amanda appeared to have been in eight of ten locations near, or very nearly after, one of the Boomers. She followed Michael in four while he trailed Rory and twice she seemed after Simon.

He mulled over the information. It was pretty damning, but they lacked context. She didn’t fake her amnesia. She truly had no recall of the events that took place during her incarceration. What fragments she’d found were all nightmarish images of being held captive with faceless men and women hurting her.

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, Simon deleted the search and secured the file behind a series of passwords. Their security might not have been compromised, but it didn’t look good.
Amanda?

Yes?
Her perky response stabbed at him. She was in such a good mood.

Did you mean it when you said you wanted to piece together those missing months?
He didn’t want to hurt her. Rooting through her mind to find the missing pieces to fill in the gaps could very well do that.

Yes. You’ll do it? You’ll scan me?
So desperate for answers. A fist squeezed around his heart. He wasn’t in love, and he wasn’t afraid to lose her, but why risk her? His mind rebelled against the very notion. They came here to save the future—they all knew that sacrifice might be demanded of them. But could he sacrifice her sanity for answers?

Simon, it’s my life and my sacrifice. They made me a victim, you can help me take that part of my life back. I need it back.
Fervor flowered in those words with the deep conviction that it was the right thing to do.
You can’t fight an enemy you can’t see. Help me? Please.

Closing out the rest of the searches, he secured them with another series of passcodes. Rex might be able to hack his way to the files, but the encryption would buy them time and, if necessary—his resolve hardened—if necessary, he’d delete the information entirely. He could protect her from the others until they learned the concrete details.

Finish cleaning up. We’re going into the city. I need to interrogate the prisoner and wipe him. When that is done, we’ll find your missing memories.
Away from the other Boomers and the threat they might pose. But he tucked that thought away, hiding it from her. No need for her to be afraid.

He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

Rory perched on the edge of the desk and watched Michael pace. His dark and forbidding expression might have terrified the others, but she knew him too well. He’d been angry since he stormed into their shared room at the warehouse. He said nothing, just slammed the door and started pacing. Her right arm still ached from the fight on the roof and the half-cough choking her chest sounded worse than it actually was. Sipping her coffee, she waited for him to come down from fury’s mountain and talk to her.

“Nothing. The soldier knew nothing about anyone he worked for, just some sketchy details about his assignment and it didn’t occur to him to question why they were sent out to bag and tag your team.” He spat the words like he would empty the clip on an automatic weapon.

“That’s the perk of being a soldier sometimes. You follow orders, you don’t question them, and you don’t need the details behind the whys and wherefores.” She didn’t like it, but she understood it. Cradling her coffee, she watched the wheels turning behind Michael’s eyes. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

“I was a soldier, Rory.”

“Still are, sweetheart. You live and breathe the mission.” It was a light tap against his nose for his determination to keep everyone on the track of their endgame. An endgame they couldn’t quite see anymore.

“I still questioned my orders. I understood why we were given the mission. Hell, I volunteered for it.” And there it was, the piece that chewed on him. He volunteered for a one-way ticket to the past to try and save his world from misery and cataclysm. That someone else would take on a mission without similar goals or depth of emotional investment eluded him.

“We can’t ascribe meaning to his motives without knowing everything about him. Most soldiers volunteer because they believe in their country or their commanding officers. He may truly believe that the end justifies the means whether he knows what the end is or not…”

“Following orders isn’t an excuse or a justification.” He glared at her smile. “Why are you laughing?”

“Darling, because you are so determined to do the right thing and believe so much in your mission, you’re missing the big picture. Everyone started somewhere. This guy was just low on the command chain, so he didn’t know enough to help you with your mission—”

“He was a threat to you.” His throat flexed with the tension weighing down on him.

“No, he wasn’t. They were carrying tranqs. They wanted prisoners, not bodies.” She sipped her coffee.