Page 82 of Hunter

“Not by choice. That bastard Emerson’s got something on me—just like he’s probably got something on you. That’s his specialty, digging up garbage and using it to his advantage. I wanted to atone for my sins, but he forced me to come here. Now the joke’s on him. It turns out I’m not going to live long enough to enjoy my retirement. So I don’t have to do his dirty work anymore. I’m taking Hunter out of here. I thought Dr. Kelley could turn him around. If she’s gone, I’ll have to do it myself in the time I have left.”

As she heard her name mentioned, Kathryn stopped in the act of reaching for the pole.

“You had her killed, didn’t you?” the doctor demanded. “And you wanted it to look like Hunter did it.”

Anderson shrugged. “That was my plan,” he said, laughing, as if he were enjoying a private joke.

“What did you have against her?”

“Nothing personal,” Anderson shot back. “But she gave me the perfect opportunity to prove that Swinton’s methods produced unstable subjects unsuitable for secret missions.”

Kolb answered with a low curse.

“While we’re discussing Dr. Kelley,” Anderson said, “would you mind telling me why you moved heaven and earth to get her on the team here? And why you arranged to have her shacked up with our friend in that nice cozy cottage?”

“Because I thought if anybody could get through to him on a human level, she could.” She looks a lot like Ben Lancaster’s wife.”

“Oh, really?”

Hunter’s head jerked up, and his unsteady gaze fixed on the doctor.

“Yes,” Kolb said. “I was willing to do anything to get her. Even—” He stopped short.

Kathryn felt a trail of shivers travel across her skin. She looked like Ben Lancaster’s wife? Kolb had donewhatto get her here?

Anderson sneered and glanced at Hunter. “So, what was the big deal? Hunter doesn’t have any of Lancaster’s memories. Or do you think he’s genetically disposed to get the hots for blue-eyed redheads?”

“You’re wrong about his memories,” the doctor shot back. “You may remember Lancaster wasn’t dead when he arrived here. I was able to save some of his brain cells; I transferred them to Hunter.”

“What?” Anderson practically shouted. “How dare you.”

“Maybe you should thank me. You haven’t exactly had a tremendous success rate bringing your subjects to maturity. Maybe the brain cells were crucial to his survival. Maybe they’re the reason he’s the only one of your Lancaster clones to make it.”

Anderson started toward Kolb, his hands balled into fists. “You’ve invalidated our tests.”

“I don’t give a damn about your precious tests, you moron. I care about the dignity of human life.”

Anderson made a low sound and raised his fist.

“Stay where you are,” Kolb ordered as he moved toward Hunter. “I’m taking him with me.”

“I don’t think so,” Anderson answered in a voice that had turned surprisingly mild.

To the doctor’s right, a door that had been cracked an inch quietly opened to admit the figure of Reid, holding a gun. It appeared he’d been there most of the time, waiting for a signal from Anderson.

In the space of a few heartbeats, the whole situation changed.

“To your right!” Kathryn shouted.

The doctor whirled, saw Reid, and fired. But the security man had also pulled the trigger. The noise of two sidearms being fired reverberated in the close confines of the room even as both men collapsed to the floor.

The shots seemed to reverberate through Hunter as well. He had been sitting at the table as if he were no longer capable of free movement. The gunfire released him from the paralysis. He sprang to his feet, leaped across the space that separated him from Anderson, and struck the researcher on the back of the neck with the side of his hand.

Anderson crumpled, and Kathryn found herself moving toward Hunter across a room where bodies sprawled across the floor. She reached him and fell into his arms, folded him into her embrace.

“Thank God, you’re all right,” she gasped, too overcome with relief to say more.

His arms tightened spasmodically around her, then he pushed her from him.

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