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“What?” Brin raised her head, but he dropped over her fiercely, covering her lips and sliding his hips up to mesh with hers. She gasped, but as his palm pressed her thigh, she parted her legs and he drove forward, pinning her to the mattress, pressing so tightly the friction burned. She cried out, but not in pain. Her legs curled around him, drawing him deeper still, and he dropped into the sensation. He ground his hips, and she met each motion. He slid over her, felt her breasts press into him, nipples hard and rough. Sweat lubricated their motion and they fell into a rough rhythm.
The room blurred and Alex closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Brin’s taut, muscled body and moved with her, chasing the sounds of her pleasure with his motion. He closed his eyes and clutched the sheets, digging his fingers into the mattress and fighting for control. She sensed his urgency and bucked up into him with a soft cry. It was more than he could stand.
Tears flowed down his cheeks and blended with the sweat of their coupling as they climaxed. His body tightened, shuddered and grew still, but he didn’t move off of her. He lay there, limp, drained and gasping for breath as she kissed his cheeks, ran her fingers through his hair and brushed his shoulders with long, sharp nails. Slowly his mind, heart and lungs dropped back through levels of sensation. He felt her heartbeat against his chest. He lowered his head and managed to brush his eyes on the sheet in his hand in a pretense of wiping away sweat. He didn’t want her to see his tears.
Brin stroked his hair in silence for a few moments.
“What was that?” she asked.
“You didn’t enjoy it?” He stiffened at the thought it might have all been for himself, that he might have stolen their final moments of intimacy in selfish lust.
“I didn’t say that. It was wonderful. It is wonderful. But it was so intense. It was like you were trying to pull me into you, or through you. I—”
Before she could go on, a soft thump sounded beyond the door. They both glanced up sharply. The sound repeated and Alex couldn’t stifle a chuckle. He rolled slowly off Brin, wrapping her in his arms. She reached down quickly and drew the sheet and comforter farther up the bed.
“Savannah?” Alex called. “Are you out there?”
They lay in silence for a moment longer. The bump repeated and a soft voice called out.
“No.”
They both laughed, and moments later, childish giggles sounded in the hall.
“Go lay down, baby,” Brin called out. “We’ll be out in a minute.”
“I want to come in,” Savannah called petulantly. “I want to wake you up.”
Brin started to speak again, but Alex stopped her. His hand shook as he gripped her arm, and he released her as if he’d been bitten. He let his voice break a little to help explain away the tremor.
“Let’s get dressed and let her in,” he said softly. “I miss both my girls, you know? I don’t want to miss a moment with either of you.”
She watched him. He saw her glance at his hand, and he willed it to be steady, just this one time. It remained rock solid, and she stroked his cheek, then laughed.
“Okay, hotshot. I’ll get dressed first, then you. I have to get out and make breakfast. I have a big day. I have a meeting with Rand this morning, something new—and big. He wants me to go over some new research.”
“Big brains and nice breasts.” Alex laughed. He lunged for her, but she was too quick, slipping off the edge of the bed. He watched her, and a lump filled his throat. He didn’t try to speak, and moments later she had her nightgown on and stood, waiting on him.
“Rise and shine, hero,” she said, smiling brightly. “I get the shower, you get the child. I’ll trade you in twenty minutes.”
He grinned at her, rolled out of the bed and fumbled in the dresser until he found a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt. He turned just in time to see Brin disappear into the hall, and Savannah’s bright, inquisitive face peering back in through the door. Growling like a bear, he charged.
His daughter squealed, spun and scampered off down the hallway. Alex pursued, but not too quickly. Some races are better if you come in last, and he knew where she was headed. A soft couch pillow to hide behind and screams for cartoons would come next. He smiled and dived after her, sliding onto the couch, spinning and curling her in close. Before she could even ask, he’d clicked the remote and brought the big-screen TV to life. Alex buried his nose in his daughter’s soft hair and closed his eyes as she giggled, squirmed and laughed at the prancing animated nonsense on the screen.
He squeezed her tight, enjoying the contentment he felt at that moment. If only it could always be that way.
THE REST OF THE MORNING passed far too quickly. He nearly broke down hugging Savannah goodbye, and she wasn’t happy to hear he was leaving again. Alex watched from the doorway as Brin bustled the girl into the SUV, and didn’t turn away until the two of them were down the road and out of sight.
He packed lightly. There was no way to know what he was getting into—not exactly. It was better to choose his gear after he knew. His magic was camouflage, but it was a subtle art. He couldn’t carry too much, or too little. It wasn’t enough to take on the appearance of a new persona. It was absolutely inadequate to simulate change. He had to disappear. He had to melt into another reality where Alex Tempest didn’t exist at all—or if he did, he was disconnected. He had very little time.
Too many things could go wrong. If the doctor mentioned his condition to anyone connected to Room 59, the mission would be aborted. If there was any incident indicating he was less than one hundred percent, he’d never leave the country. Funding would dry up, and very likely his access to Room 59 would cease to exist, as well. There was nothing he could do to expose them, not that he would. They might contact him, but somehow he didn’t believe that they would. They were a tight, close-knit group, for all their independent operations, but there was one truth binding them all. The mission came first. The greater good overshadowed personal glory, needs and safety.
In less than an hour, he was out the door. Before he left, he went to the small garden he and Brin had planted behind the house. Very carefully, he clipped a single rose and a small violet. He carried them inside and sat at the table in the kitchen to write.
He started several notes to Brin. He wanted to tell her everything. Their love had always been based on trust, and not sharing—particularly at this moment—felt like a betrayal. In the end, he carefully shredded his first four attempts and wrote simply, “I love you,” on a card. He drew a heart and carefully slit the paper, sliding the stem of the rose through it like an arrow.
Then, with equal care, he drew a cartoon bear on a second sheet of paper. He laid the violet across it and wrote carefully, “I can’t bear to be without you. See you soon. Love, Daddy.”
He couldn’t remember ever tearing up so many times in the space of a single day. It seemed as though even the ability to control his emotions was being taken from him. He brushed it away, grabbed his things and slipped out the door, locking it behind him. He looked back only once, staring at the small, comfortable home wistfully. Then he turned and walked into another life as if he’d never existed.
7
Brin spent the first hour in her office, filing correspondence, answering e-mail and fuming over lost time. Meetings were a big part of her life as director of the lab, but they infuriated her. Every moment she spent schmoozing board members, entertaining investors and planning for the future of the company was time away from her research.
A lot of very talented men and women were involved in the same sort of research she conducted, searching for clues to the nature of degenerative diseases, testing and retesting possible cures. She knew most of the best and brightest by name, the rest by reputation. In a few she recognized kindred souls, minds and hearts dedicated to healing and life. In too many others, though, she found only greed, pride and the bickering nature of academia.
This time it felt different. She’d had an odd sense of impending accomplishment since the call from her CEO, Hershel Rand. He very seldom involved himself in the nuts and bolts of the company. He was a high-energy, high-efficiency administrator. He knew the worlds of money and corporate warfare as well as Brin knew her cultures and petri dishes, and the two rarely crossed paths. Other than annual budget talks and occasional pep talks, he let her run things the way she saw fit.
Now he said he had something she had to see, something he didn’t trust anyone else to handle. He knew how she worked, and more importantly, she thought he knew why she worked. He said researchers in China had presented some brilliant work—something that could shift the entire paradigm of genetic research. These weren’t the sorts of things he would say in idle conversation. Nothing was insignificant in his world; no moment was wasted. As Brin’s fingers slipped and she nearly spilled a file folder’s contents onto the floor in her haste to clear her desk, she smiled. She hadn’t been so excited about a meeting since her initial job interview years in the past.
She only wished Alex would be there to share it with. He didn’t fully understand her work, but he supported it—and her—and she knew he’d listen. When he was away, she felt isolated and kept things bottled up. He really was a vital part of her life, and she felt—too often—that she was operating under a painful handicap.
Brin swept the rest of the mess off her desk and into a large box. She could file it later, when there was idle time. Her hand whipped up in a nervous gesture that displayed the watch Alex had given her for her first Mother’s Day—the year she got pregnant with Savannah. Five minutes. She’d better go upstairs to Hershel’s office.
She made the elevator just as the doors began to close, slipped inside and sighed with relief. The ninth-floor button was already lit and she smiled. She didn’t usually get this worked up, but Hershel had been excited and her mood had fed off his ever since.
Elaine, Rand’s executive assistant, was at her appointed place, the phone tucked under her ear and her glasses halfway down her nose. She waved Brin past, into the CEO’s office. The door was open.
The office was empty, another odd fact. Hershel never left his door open, especially not when he was out of the office. Brin slipped inside and eased into a leather chair. She bit her lip and wondered if she’d have long to wait. Nothing about this day, or this meeting, was normal—why expect the normally punctual Rand to be the exception? She had just fixed her gaze on the skyline beyond the great window when her boss popped up from behind the desk, scaring her half to death.
“God! You just about gave me a heart attack!” She laughed then, but there was little humor in it.
“Sorry. I had some new equipment installed this morning and the cords keep tangling around my chair wheels.” He offered up a feeble smile, stood and crossed the room in quick strides. “Let’s get down to it, shall we?” He stuck his head out the door. “Elaine, turn on my voice mail and go get yourself a latte. Don’t come back until I call you.” He shut the door to his office firmly.
Brin frowned. She had never known Elaine to leave her desk without someone to fill in, and she had never known Rand to let her. She studied his face as he slid back into his chair, rolled forward and regarded the plasma monitor set into the top of his desk. Whatever he saw there made him smile and he relaxed a bit.
“Everything okay?” Her voice sounded weak, even to her.
“Fine. Just making sure we’re really alone, if you know what I mean. Now, as I said, we have some research material coming in from China. You’ll be impressed—I guarantee it.”
“All right. But why not have it sent electronically? We’ve got the best network security in the business.”
“You don’t understand. This is huge. World-changing huge. I couldn’t risk having it sent electronically, no matter how impressive security is. It will be arriving late this afternoon, and after I review it, you’ll get a chance to have a go at it.”
“What type of research is it?”
“Sorry, Brin, not just yet. All I want you to do right now is clear your schedule. This project is going to be your number-one priority for a while anyway. And I have to insist that you not discuss this. Not with anyone on your team, not with Alex. No one. Do you understand?”
She paused for a moment, the crease in her forehead deepening. This was so out of character for Rand that it scared her. “I understand. And I don’t discuss my work, except in the vaguest of terms, with anyone. I doubt they’d understand anyway. But my team—”
“Is out of the loop on this one. Totally out. It’s you and me. I need your help on this one, but it has to be our secret,” Rand said.
“Understood. I don’t have a problem with that, but any serious research is going to require assistance.”
“I knew you’d understand. Once things get past the initial stages, we’ll find ways to compartmentalize the research. Now, I have another meeting. I’ll let you know when it arrives.” He gestured in the direction of the door, dismissing her. His face, which had shown traces of humor when he popped up from behind the desk, now lacked any humor at all. In fact, it seemed almost pressed in on itself, creased and tight with stress.
Brin nodded slowly and made for the door. Whatever was going on was huge—that was certain. And it made her nervous as hell. It also irritated her that Rand was so nervous he’d called a meeting with her to not tell her what was going on. He could have had her meet him after whatever the big deal was arrived. Every move he’d made on this one was out of character. There was only one thing that would make her feel better—Alex. She only hoped that she wasn’t too late to catch him.
Cell phones were prohibited inside the building. Not only did they lead to slacking off, but they also interfered with a lot of the equipment they used and could be a security risk. Brin made for the roof of D-wing. It was only five stories high and there was a small lounge out there for those people who liked to escape the sterile air of the lab. In that small area, the cell phone dead zone was lifted. She hurried out the door, smiling as five pairs of eyes met hers and looked askance of her.
Alex’s cell phone was first on her speed dial, permanently recorded in every contact log she had. “Alex,” she said quickly and the phone dialed. There was a dead-air pause and then it rang. And rang. Suddenly, Brin felt as though she might cry. Her call was forwarded to voice mail and she stomped her foot, cursing her luck for having been too late.
“I just wanted to call and let you know that I miss you already.” She swallowed hard, fighting back tears at the thought of how empty the house would be that night. “I love you.”
She slapped the phone shut and sighed, staring at the clouds for a moment before she shuffled through the door, back into the carefully sterilized and conditioned air. Now she wished that research would hurry up and arrive. At least then, she would have something to focus on other than Alex’s absence.
8
Alex stepped out onto the tarmac and heaved a sigh of relief. It had been a long flight to Seoul and his back ached. He couldn’t be sure whether the pains and twitches were from exhaustion or a byproduct of the MS, and just that uncertainty alone was enough to keep his nerves on edge and disrupt his rhythm. He stretched, yawned and headed toward the south side of the airport. He’d arrived in a private Room 59 jet that traveled under a counterfeit corporate name. If someone checked, the phones would be answered, but the address was nothing more than an abandoned warehouse near the docks in New York.
His contact in Seoul would provide his gear and take him into China. There was nothing like running around the fence to get to the barn to eat at a man’s nerves.
About three hundred yards away from where the plane he’d come in on was parked, another plane waited. This one was smaller and not anywhere as close to being well-maintained. A small Asian man puttered about beneath it, checking the landing gear and whistling. Alex recognized him immediately as Yoo Jin-Ho, a contact he had used before in both Korea and Southeast Asia. Jin had the typical dark hair and eyes of his native Korea, and his skin was still ageless and smooth. It was a small relief to see a familiar face, but something was off and it took Alex a moment to place it.
What was unrecognizable was the bright smile on Jin’s face. The last time Alex had seen him, he’d been beating the hell out of a South Vietnamese asset who’d turned double agent. Jin’s smile widened, and he climbed to his feet, wiping his hands on his gray coveralls and then extending one in a handshake.
“Good to see you again, my friend. I trust you are well?”
“Fine as frog’s hair. It’s good to see you, too, Jin,” Alex replied.
Jin nodded. “Your jumper is in the plane with the rest of your things. We’re flying a load of televisions to Beijing today. I hope you are up to some heavy lifting.”
“I’ll go change,” Alex said, “and check my gear.”
He turned and marched up the short stairway into the plane. It was a small cargo plane and, judging from the smears of oil on each side, the engines had failed more than once. When not assisting the agents of Room 59, Jin ran a small freight service out of Seoul. He had a couple of planes, one other employee—his son—and a boatload of guts. Alex had liked him at first sight and he welcomed the opportunity to see the man again.
His hands had begun to tremble, and he made a conscious effort to remember to keep them out of sight. Jin was no fool, and if he caught a whiff of something, anything, wrong, he’d bow out. Jin wasn’t a coward, but he didn’t like taking stupid chances. There was no way to complete the mission without him.
The tremors were very slight this time, but enough to remind Alex that he wasn’t one hundred percent. He had to lean on the cargo netting in order to pull on his jumper, and it made him want to hit something. Already he felt exhausted and wrung out, even though all he’d done so far was sit on the long, boring flight from the U.S. to Seoul and review the mission parameters.
Jin had placed a large duffel bag in the back of the plane. It contained everything Alex needed for the mission except the explosives. It wouldn’t do to be caught entering China with those. Aside from that, he was well equipped. Jin had come through for him yet again. Alex settled in, lost in thought.
When Jin’s face popped back over the pilot’s seat a few moments later, the sound of his voice startled Alex, and he sat up, shaking his head.
“I’ve filed the flight plan and almost finished the checklist. We should be able to take off in about twenty minutes.”
Alex hadn’t even heard the pilot return. “Good. I’m ready to get started,” he said. “The sooner I can get this over with, the better.” He checked the cargo netting over his duffel, and glanced dubiously at the boxed televisions lining the cargo bay.
“So, all of those are boxes are TVs?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s what my invoice says. You know what a law-abiding man I am,” Jin said.
“Do you know anything about the local asset I’ll be utilizing in Beijing?”
“I don’t know him personally,” Jin said. “He has a good reputation, gets the job done at all costs. Very John Wayne. Reminds me of someone else I know, eh?”
Alex chuckled and looked down at his boots. “You do know me too well. Usually I kill anyone who does.”
“I’ll take my chances. Now, I have to finish the last three things on this checklist and then we’ll take off. You might as well strap in.”
Alex slipped the harness over his waist and clipped the buckle together. No matter how many times he rode in one, he would never get used to the touch-and-go ride of these little puddle jumpers. He sighed and for a moment his mind was pulled back to Brin and Savannah. It made his heart ache. He was anxious to get this flight under way. The sooner he got started on this mission, the sooner he could be on his way back to them. The longer he was away, the less precious time he’d be able to offer them. He knew he had to tell Brin everything, and the thought of it filled him with dread.
Alex closed his eyes and pictured his two girls curled up together on the big bed, and he fell asleep with that image filling his thoughts.
9
Brin awoke the next morning to Savannah’s sweet face. Somehow, she had crawled into bed with her mommy, laying her head on the pillow where Alex usually slept and staring at her mother until she woke up—another thing Alex did. Brin’s eyes snapped open and a small gasp escaped her lips. That first glimpse of Savannah’s eyes made her think, just for a second, that Alex had somehow returned to her. Stupid. He was never gone less than five days, and quite often it was several weeks or more.
“Good morning, baby.” She kissed the tip of the girl’s nose. “And what are you doing out of your bed?”
“I have to go potty.”
There was urgency in that last, a little fear, as well.
“Let’s go, then.”
Brin threw back the covers and grabbed the girl, hurrying down the hall toward the bathroom. No telling how long it had been since that urge first hit. No telling how long the girl could hold out. She tugged her daughter’s pants down and placed her gently on the potty seat, then turned to take care of her own needs. Before she could even get the lid up, the phone rang, echoing down the hall and making Brin’s head hurt a bit.
“Who the hell would call at this hour?” She glanced at the clock in the living room and realized that it was past nine.
“Hello?” she mumbled, the phone halfway to her ear.
“This is Woodard’s Pharmacy. We have a prescription ready for Alex Tempest.”
Brin spent a long moment furrowing her brow instead of speaking. “Uh, okay. I didn’t know he needed a prescription filled. As far as I was aware—never mind. I’ll be down in a few hours to pick it up for him, if that’s all right.”
“That’ll be fine, Mrs. Tempest. Thank you.”
“Goodbye.”
Down the hall, Savannah had sounded the “I’m done” alarm. Brin hurried down the hall to help her.
“You go sit in the living room. Mommy will be there in a minute to get your juice. I just have to go potty first.” She pecked the top of Savannah’s head and shooed her out the door.
Was Alex sick? She didn’t remember his mentioning anything about a doctor or medicine. She wasn’t even aware that he hadn’t been feeling well. Suddenly, she felt like the worst wife in the world.
Savannah’s juice chant made her finish in a hurry. The next hour would be filled with getting ready and feeding Savannah her breakfast. No time to wonder what, if anything, was wrong with Alex. Savannah was cute and sweet and it truly was a blessing to be her mom. At the moment, the girl was a godsend. If not for her daughter, Brin would just sit around and worry all weekend.
After they finished breakfast, cleaned up the kitchen and went through the complex rituals involved in dressing Savannah for the day, Brin threw on her own clothes and they piled into the SUV. She had the usual shopping to do for the week. But first she had to stop at the pharmacy.
