Generation 18: The Spook Squad 2 (16 page)

Michael nodded. “Dad’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

Gabriel lightly placed his hand against Sam’s back, guiding her through the tables to the private function room near the back of the restaurant. The holographic dragons played across the ceiling as they entered, the creatures diamond bright in the candlelit darkness.

“Lord, I still can’t get over how real they look,” she murmured, a smile touching her full lips.

Gabriel watched a sapphire-blue dragon flame a butterfly that danced near its tail. Warmth washed over his face, followed quickly by a hint of acrid smoke. The butterfly emerged from the flames unscathed, and the dragon looked miffed. “Han’s always working on the holographs. His aim is to make them as real as possible.”

A golden dragon dove for Sam’s head and she ducked, then smiled ruefully. “He’s just about achieved that.”

Gabriel motioned her toward the table set up in the middle of the room. She sat at one end. He sat to one side of her, but the table was small enough that his knee brushed hers. The touch sent warmth rushing to his groin. He might not be willing to admit his attraction to his partner, but his body sure as hell had no such inhibitions. Just as well he was sitting down.

A door opened near the back of the room and Han loomed out of the shadows, his smile almost lost under the bushiness of his mustache.

“Gabriel. Samantha. It is good to see you both.”

Gabriel clasped the big man’s hand. “You, too, old friend. Thanks for giving us the room when you’re so busy.”

“For you, anything. I have the deadeners on full. No one will eavesdrop on your conversation.”

“Good. The general should be here by eleven. Just keep an eye out for me. I don’t really trust him.”

Han nodded. “Do you want a drink while you wait?”

“Just ice water for me, thanks,” Sam said.

“Are you sure? I do make the best cocktails in town, you know.”

Sam grinned. “I’m still on duty. Water will do.”

Han looked at Gabriel. “And you, my friend? Are you playing by the book?”

“The SIU would go into shock if I did. I’ll have a beer, thanks.”

Han nodded and walked away. Sam interlaced her fingers and leaned her chin on them. The ring of smoke around the blue of her eyes gleamed like ice in the candlelight, but there was nothing cold about the smile that teased her lips. A moment later, her bare foot slid up his shoe and under his pant leg. The skin-to-skin caress had his muscles—and other parts of his body—jumping in delight.

“Why don’t you trust the general?” she asked.

When had her voice gained that sexy edge? “I just have a feeling about the man. He agreed to this meeting far too fast.”

“Maybe he just wants to help.”

Her foot was sliding up and down, up and down, and he was beginning to find it extremely hard to concentrate.

“The military is not known for its helpful nature,” he said dryly. “He’s got his own agenda for agreeing to this meeting.”

“Then why come here? Why not somewhere more secure?”

“Han’s is as secure as you can get, and the general might just relax his guard here.”

She nodded. Then Han walked in, and her foot stopped its teasing. Gabriel wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or annoyed.

“Thanks, Han,” he said, once the big man had placed their drinks on the table.

“I have ordered a tray of savories for you both.” A hint of amusement ran through Han’s voice. “Complimentary, of course.”

“Thanks,” Gabriel repeated, and knew he’d get the third degree from his friend later. But what could he say? That his temporary partner was pushing boundaries in a way she’d never pushed before? That while he was attracted to her, he had no intention of heading down that path while she was his partner?

Han left. Sam raised her glass and slowly sipped. Moisture glistened like tears on her mouth. God, it would be so easy to reach across the table, to wrap his arm around her neck and kiss those droplets away.

But he could not. Dared not.

She raised an eyebrow, and for a minute he wondered if she’d somehow caught his thoughts.

“So, what do we talk about until the general gets here?”

“How about the weather?” he said, keeping his voice bland.

She smiled that smile again, and heat twisted through his veins. “How about we talk about us?”

“There is no us,” he said gently, even though he wished it could be otherwise. “Not while we’re partners.”

“Then you’re not denying the attraction between us?”

“Only a fool would do that. And while I may be many things, a fool is not one of them.”

Amusement warmed the silver in her eyes. “I’m tempted to disagree with that statement.”

He smiled. “Undoubtedly.”

“So, is this reluctance to get involved with a partner the reason why you’re trying to ditch me? So you can feel free to play?”

He hesitated. It was tempting,
very
tempting, to go down the same route, to play the bastard card yet again. But he just couldn’t do it. And maybe if he
was
honest, she’d understand his reasons and stop pushing. “In truth, no. I have a habit of killing partners. I don’t want you—or anyone else—to join the list.”

She nodded, and he had the odd feeling she wasn’t exactly surprised. “Then this ‘no involvement’ rule is one you’ve had from the beginning?”

Again he hesitated. “Not really.”

She raised her eyebrow. “Then you
have
been involved with a partner?”

“It went badly,” he said, “and I realized my mistake. Hence the rule.”

“How badly?”

“She died.” He paused, not wanting to get into a discussion about an event that had happened long ago, even if that event still haunted him today. “I can’t make that mistake again. I
won’t
. While you’re my partner, nothing will ever happen between us.”

“And if I happen to ask for a transfer? What then?”

Then he’d definitely be tempted. But to what end? As much as part of him longed for something deeper, his changer half—the half that had already lost its soul mate—wasn’t looking for anything more than a casual relationship, and that was exactly what he had with Sandy. Free and easy, with no commitment or restraint on either side. And in the brief time he’d known Sam, he’d learned one thing—she wasn’t the casual type.

“And are you considering asking for a transfer?”

“At this point, no.”

“Then it’s a moot point, isn’t it?”

His wristcom chose that moment to ring. Almost gratefully, he answered it.

Stephan’s grim features greeted him. “There’s been another murder.”

Something clenched in Gabriel’s gut.
Surely not Miranda
. “Where?”

“Up in Greenvale. The neighbors reported hearing two women screaming. The local cops have called us in.”

Tension flowed from his body. Greenvale was nowhere near Strathmore. “So it’s definitely connected to our serial killings?”

“From what they said, yes.”

“Damn.” Gabriel glanced at Sam. “There’s been another murder. Are you able to handle the general alone?”

“I’ve been a cop for ten years. I don’t think an interview with a general is beyond me.”

He wasn’t worried about her interviewing techniques; he was worried about leaving her alone with a man instinct told him they couldn’t trust. He looked back at the wristcom. “I’ll head there immediately. Have you heard anything about Miranda?”

“No. I called the old man, and he’s still waiting to hear from Jess and Alain. You?”

“Nothing.” If he didn’t hear something soon, he’d call Jess and see what was going on. “You home?”

“Yes. Call me if anything happens.”

He meant Miranda-wise, not case-wise. “Will do.”

Gabriel disconnected and met Sam’s gaze. “Miranda’s one of my adopted sisters, in case you were wondering.”

She smiled slightly. “One of? How many do you have?”

“Four adopted and two full sisters.” And one dead brother, he thought grimly. Lord, he did
not
want to lose anyone else. He guzzled the rest of his beer and stood up. “I have to go. Be careful with the general. Remember, he probably has his own reasons for being here.”

She nodded. “I’ll give you a call and let you know what happened.”

“Do that.” He dug the car keys out of his pocket and dropped them into her hand. “Take my car. You can pick me up in the morning.”

She nodded, and Gabriel walked from the room. Han was in the process of heading into the kitchen and stopped in surprise.

“You’re leaving your pretty lady so soon?”

“She’s not
my
pretty lady—or my anything else, for that matter.”

Han’s smile was disbelieving. “I saw you together, my friend. Lie to yourself, if you wish, but I have seen the truth.”

“What you’ve seen is the natural attraction of a man for a beautiful woman in a formfitting outfit. Half the men in this restaurant looked at her that way.”

Han’s smile was gentle, almost mocking. “As you wish, my friend. What can I do for you?”

“Keep an eye on her for me. As I said, I don’t trust the general, but I have to leave.”

“She will come to no harm in my restaurant. I shall monitor them, if you like.”

“I like. Thanks, Han.” He clapped the big man on the shoulder and quickly left. In the shadows of the bridge, he shapechanged and headed for Greenvale.

So much for dressing to
kill,
Sam thought, watching Gabriel’s retreat. Even if he had admitted his attraction, he’d actually taken about as much notice of her as he would have a gnat doing the cancan.

She leaned back in her chair and toyed with her drink. As a seductress, she’d been a miserable failure. Beyond his initial surprise, he’d given no reaction, and made no comment about how she looked. Nor had he had any obvious physical reaction to her caressing him suggestively with her toes.

Maybe he really did prefer tall, leggy blondes to short, slender redheads.

She sipped her water and stared at the dancing dragons. After a while, a waitress came in and placed a platter of hors d’oeuvres on the table. She nodded her thanks and glanced at her watch. Ten past eleven. The general was late. She hoped he wasn’t reneging. The evening would be a total waste if he did.

As if on cue, the door opened. Han came into the room, followed by two men. Heat tingled a warning across her skin.

The general wasn’t human, nor was the man who accompanied him.

“Would you gentlemen like a drink?” Han asked.

“Two coffees,” the general replied, his tone almost offhand.

“Two coffees it is.” Han’s gaze touched hers. “I’m only a call away if you need anything else.”

She nodded. It was good to know Han was close. There was something about these two men she didn’t trust, and it was more than just the warning itching her skin.

Somewhere, sometime, she’d met the general before. There was something horribly familiar in the way he walked.

The two men sat opposite her. The general’s companion was in his mid-twenties, with red-gold hair and green-gray eyes. He could have been Harry Maxwell’s brother. Could have been
her
brother.

Maybe he was.

If Hopeworth was playing with genetics, and if she was somehow connected to Hopeworth, then anything was possible.

“Samantha Ryan, I presume?” the general said.

She took a sip of water and nodded, and the general glanced at the man beside him. “My attaché, Duncan King.”

The younger man held out his hand. For a second, Sam regarded it warily, then she reluctantly clasped it. Power shot through her fingertips—a power that was similar to the kind of energy that she felt in storms, and yet somehow different. It was a little “earthier” than the ethereal energy of the storms.

One other thing she noticed was that part of the power that surged between them had a sucking feel—as if he were a drain and everything was swirling toward him. King was psychic, and he was attempting to read her. She tore her hand away.

The general’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You mentioned a murder case on the phone. Are the thirteen men you requested information on suspects?”

“No, but they may be victims.” She scratched her palm under the table. Her hand burned where King had touched her.

“Ten of the thirteen men are dead. Why would you consider them possible victims?”

So the general knew about the recent kite murders. Knew, too, that the other seven men were dead. “We have two separate murder cases involved here. Benson, Lyle and possibly White were killed by a vampire-like creature we call a kite. We believe Cooper and Haynes are the next likely victims.”

“Which is why the SIU currently has both under protection?”

She nodded. “We thought it best for their safety.”

The general’s smile suggested he didn’t believe that excuse. “And the other eight people you requested information on?”

“Their names came up during our investigations into a recent series of murders.” She hesitated, meeting King’s icy gaze. “All the victims were in their mid-twenties, were adopted from Greenwood State Care and had red hair. Just like your friend here.”

“I see.” If he detected her slight lie, he gave no indication of it. “Then you have heard of the Generation 18 project?”

She raised her eyebrows. Gabriel was right—the general was just a little too eager to talk about military secrets. He had an agenda of his own, and if the heat washing a warning across her skin was any indication, it boded her no good.

“It’s been mentioned, yes.”

The general leaned back in his chair. “By whom? Allars or Haynes?”

He was direct, if nothing else. She shrugged lightly. “We pieced together details from what they’ve both said. Which wasn’t much, believe me.”

“Nor should it be. One was little more than a lab rat, and the other had behavior modifications.” He hesitated, as if waiting for a reaction.

She crossed her arms and returned his gaze steadily. After a few seconds, he continued.

“The first eight people on your list—Allars included—have nothing to do with Generation 18.”

A point she already knew, as Allars had already told her that those eight—the names on her birth certificate—were test subjects rather than scientists. And that they’d been involved in a project called Penumbra. But for his safety, and maybe even her own, it was best to pretend ignorance. “Then what were they involved in?”