Page 41 of Lust
Liza received another flash of the dead bodies and the blood-covered Faithful.
“It was a mess, Parker,” Liza breathed. “Why would they do that?”
Solemn eyes met hers. “I don’t know. But there’s more to it. And I don’t believe Daisy’s suddenly turned a new leaf. The two are connected. We need to take precautions.”
“She got hurt protecting Max.”
“She got hurt knowing she would heal fast.”
* * *
Liza spentthe next twenty minutes running at full pelt on the treadmill in the gym. Electrodes on her chest and temples fed information back to AIMI who compiled data for Parker on his laptop. He’d tested the biohazard samples from his suit and, true to his hypothesis, it was tetrodotoxin, the same chemical pufferfish produced. Similar to what the bombardier beetle squirted.
Parker had inspected Liza’s mouth and identified glands at the back of her throat, but they found nothing on her palms. They must be too tiny or under her skin.
She rubbed her hands together as she jogged on the treadmill in the gym, eyes forward and steady on the wall before her.
“Stop,” Parker growled from his perch on a workout bench, his laptop balancing on his knee. Sometime between testing the samples and coming into the gym, he’d sourced a pair of sweats, but remained shirtless and shoeless, which meant only one thing—he planned on sparring. “This is getting nowhere. You’re supposed to be triggering your stress response.”
She hit the stop button on the treadmill and waited for the belt to slow. “Keep talking, brother. Maybe we’ll have success after all.”
An eyebrow quirk was his response. With a smooth glide, he got off the bench, put the laptop to the side, and pointed with his finger for her to get on the sparring mat.
“I’ll be back,” he said and left the room.
Puffing, Liza strode to the mat. She eyed the boxer’s tape on the floor next to the weightlifting chalk but dismissed the idea. Knowing her brother, he’d have an exact notion of how this sparring match would go.
While she waited, her thoughts shifted to Joe, and she knew she’d have to see him in the next day or two, or the sin in her system could shift to unbalanced in the blink of an eye. Panic caused her pulse to beat a staccato rhythm in her chest, bouncing against her ribcage. Parker had been right. If she wasn’t careful, and she blacked out as Sloan had once, then anyone in her vicinity would die. Just like that.
There is no known antidote.
Sloan had accidentally sent her family to sleep, but Liza could kill them with poisoned breath. Sloan said her lips had been numb, and that was only from having a light mist touch her skin. But what if next time she inhaled an actual direct hit of the poison?
There were too many variables to consider, and she couldn’t afford to see Joe until she knew the answer to all of them. There were no maybes in this world.
Parker entered the room with a collection of weapons. Liza couldn’t help wondering if she was using this as an excuse to avoid Joe, and he was using it to avoid Daisy. She’d been around Joe for two days without any ill effect, and around her family for the same. She was fine sitting in close quarters in a car, or touching Joe intimately in the garage. Deep down she knew her lack of control over her power wasn’t why she avoided Joe.
The same look echoed in Parker’s eyes. This was a distraction for him too.
He liked to think he was infallible, but he wasn’t. If only he let someone in, he might not have to deal with his issues alone.
“What’s your poison?” He held out the weapons and then smirked at his joke.
“You’re so funny, Parks,” Liza mocked. Then made a show of shopping for the best weapon. “You should start your own comedy act.”
He had a katana, nunchaku, and a ninjato sword. But it was the curved karambit knife that took her attention. Sleek, dark, and sharp, the blade resembled a raptor’s claw, had an ergonomic handle, and a safety ring she was well versed in using.
Being a cop, she’d had little use for these sorts of weapons. Her hand hovered over the karambit and Parker gave a knowing snort.
“How did I know you would take that? Mary would be proud.”
“Hello, old friend,” Liza crooned and fitted the knife to her right palm.
She stepped back, swirled the blade around her finger in a showy display, and then crouched into an attack position, muscles loose but ready.
Parker discarded the two swords and kept the nunchaku—two sticks joined by a chain—returning her display with a flourish of his own. The fact he chose a weapon that didn’t draw blood was cocky, arrogant, and so very like him. It said he didn’t need that extra violent step, he could decimate her without it. With his free hand, he beckoned her.
Oh, how Liza would enjoy watching him fall.
