Page 7 of He Is Jensen: Part One

She pales. “Oh, God. I haven’t heard about this at all.”

“We’ve kept it as on the down-low as possible, but that won’t be the case for long.”

“I want to help. I do. I will, but I’m an astrobiologist, Jensen. I don’t know the slightest thing about street drugs.”

“This isn’t a typical street drug. The drug is created from military technology, and by that, I mean of anotherworldlynature.”

The look of utter horror on her face defies my suspicions that she had knowledge of ICE before this and that she might have been in Germany helping Julian. She sits down next to me, the space barrier between us forgotten. “Pleasetell me I’m misunderstanding, and you don’t mean an alien organism, because an alien organism in our environment could have devastating, unpredictable results. Maybe not immediately, but over time. It’s what we fear at NASA, what we work sunup to sundown to prevent.”

“I don’t know if you would call this an organism. Then again, maybe you would. We don’t know at this point exactly what we’re dealing with. The lab reports have identified an unknown component. What we do know is that almost threeyears ago, the Army created a serum made from a DNA sample obtained in a…shall we say, unique aircraft, back in the 1950s. They proceeded to tell a group of two hundred soldiers they were being immunized against a chemical agent the enemy had obtained. Those men became what we now know as GTECH Super Soldiers. Not long after the injections were completed, the DNA that created the serum was destroyed, and with it, the ability to replicate it. Our scientists believe this street drug is a synthetic recreation of the serum.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “He really went through with it.”

I stiffen. “Hewho? What does that mean, Layla?”

She draws in a taut breath and expels it. “I was approached by someone named General Powell several years back to help with what he was calling the ‘Project Zodius’ immunization program.”

“Powell was responsible for recruiting soldiers under false pretenses to Area 51 and the mastermind behind injecting them with the DNA.”And then trying to control his creations with torture devices that their immune systems later destroyed,but I leave that part out.“So, he approached you, and then what?” I ask.

“I was eager to help save the lives of our soldiers,” she says, a tightness to her tone that makes me suspect she was thinking of her father and brother, both killed in combat only a few years before. I think of Caleb, too, and wonder what’s worse. Losing family to war or fighting a war against your only remaining family member, as Caleb is forced to do with Julian? “I’m not sure what the false pretenses were, as I was told the soldiers were volunteers who knew what they were getting into. And so, to that point, I was intrigued, too,” she admits. “The scientist in me reveled at the chance to study the unknown.”

“But you said no.”

“I had to. Powell wanted this immunization program ready for use in a few months. I knew he was treading on dangerousterritory, pushing too quickly with an unknown pathogen, and I wanted no part of it. In fact, I went to my superiors and requested they get involved to ensure he was stopped.”

“And what happened?”

“I was told, in no uncertain terms, to leave it alone. As in, it would be dangerous to pursue any action against Powell, with a distinct underlying threat. I was shocked.” She pauses. “Are they dead? The men he injected?”

“You didn’t let anything happen. Powell was too powerful. No one could have stopped him.”

“Did they die?” she presses. “Please, Jensen. I need to know.”

“No,” I confirm. “They didn’t die.” Wedidn’t die,I add silently.

“Thank God.” Her shoulders relax marginally, but her eyes narrow on me almost instantly. “There’s more, right? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Once I tell you this information, Layla, you can’t unknow it. That threat to leave Powell alone was nothing compared to what we’re talking about now. This is the kind of secret people get killed over.”

“You’re special ops, which means you checked me out before you came here.” There’s a slight rasp to her words, as if the words are uncomfortable in her mouth. “You must know any liability I represent is short-lived.”

I inhale sharply at what seems to confirm my biggest fear. Her working with Julian had been a better answer than the other potential reason, the one Caleb swore to be the truth of the matter. Layla was in Germany as a part of a medical study for an experimental, noninvasive treatment for a rare, rapidly-progressing lung cancer that attacks nonsmokers.

I see the truth of it in her eyes—I see her death in her eyes, herfear. Regret, anger, and an undeniable ball of protectiveness settle where my breath had been moments before and then shoot through me with the force of a nuclear bomb. She doesn’t looksick. She hasn’t lost her hair. The cancer has to be a cover story—she really is working for Julian. Her anguish is guilt-driven fear. Of me. Of what she’s done. That has to be it.

I can pull her back from the dark side, but I can’t pull her back from the grave. But her eyes—her beautiful amber eyes—tell the truth that I want to be a lie.

Before I can stop myself, I do what I’ve wanted to do for fourteen long years. I stand and pull her to her feet with me, close to me, and cup her face. “I won’t let you die.” My lips press to her lips, tongue licking into the sweet recesses of her mouth. She moans, and, holy fuck, she tastes as perfect as I always knew she would. I’m hard as a rock and molding her closer when something crashes into the patio door. I jerk back from Layla, right as the kitchen sink shatters.

Chapter four

Jensen

Idrag Layla tothe ground, the second-skin body armor I’m wearing offering us both some degree of protection, but the sound of shattering windows throughout the house promises Zodius soldiers will be on us any moment. Seconds tick by in slow motion as a foreboding silence settles around us and smoke rises in the air, flooding us with fumes and toxins meant to force Layla from the house. Julian can kiss my Texan ass. The only person leaving with Layla tonight will be me. As if mocking my vow, another smoke bomb explodes through the broken patio door, and then another.

“I can use some help here, anytime now, Maddox,” I murmur into the invisible mic I have tucked inside my ear, already pushing to my feet and taking Layla with me. Cursing when my second-in-charge remains radio silent.

“What’s happening?” She sucks in air and wheezes, her balled fist between her breasts, panic flaring in her eyes. “Oh, God. I can’t…breathe. We have to get out of here.” Her gaze flickers to the patio door a moment before she bolts.

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