Page 62 of I Dream of Danger
Shit.
After long years of training, his dick had learned to obey him. It didn’t get out of control any more. In fact, it had been so obedient the past couple of years it was practically dormant. Ghost Ops had taken every ounce of attention and energy he had, when they were on the run and in hiding, so bedding a woman became this huge energy suck. Not only because he had to plan the exit before the entry, as always, but now also because he had to work really hard not to leave a clue as to who he was. That involved having fake docs on him at all time, it involved remembering his fake name and fake legend, exactly as if he were working undercover.
If anyone figured out a way to fuck without leaving DNA anywhere, he’d have been right on it.
It was exhausting and a lot of work for a one-night fuck, because two nights was pushing it. Jon didn’t seem to have any problems. From what Nick saw, Jon got laid a lot on a regular basis, and had no problem whatsoever with telling the women lies.
For Nick, it got very old very fast.
So, now his dick was waking up and smelling the roses. Or at least smelling Elle. Because over the smell of her fear and exhaustion was the smell of her. Something fresh and springlike and absolutely unmistakably her.
No other woman in the world smelled like her. Looked like her. Was her. Which explained the half-woodie in the presence of Jon and Mac and Mac’s pregnant wife, though he knew better.
Nick put his hand on the small of Elle’s back and she stiffened again, which was enough to take the starch out of his dick. She was disoriented enough without coping with his horniness.
Nick laced his hand with hers, ignoring the fact that she didn’t close her hand around his but kept it loose. He tugged and she walked forward, turning her head slightly at the drop in air pressure as the door shut.
Mac, Catherine, and Jon were standing in front of her, Catherine with a welcoming smile. Mac didn’t do welcoming smiles, but at least he wasn’t scowling, which was something.
Nick whipped the hood off Elle’s head, her pale hair lifting slightly with a crackle, then falling back down in light shiny curls.
“Honey,” he began, but Catherine gasped.
“Dr. Connolly! You’re the one Nick went out to rescue?”
“You know me?” Elle asked.
Three deep male voices echoed. “You know her?”
Chapter
Ten
Arka Pharmaceuticals Headquarters
San Francisco
Lee suddenly stood up. “I need to check something,” he said, and walked out the door. But not before Flynn saw the sweat beading his forehead.
Something was wrong with Lee. Seriously wrong.
Former General Clancy Flynn had watched him carefully all day. Lee was a slick one, always cool and calm and emotionless. Two of the secret programs Flynn and his company had financed had earned him a lot of money in return. And the new one was going to be a bombshell. Creating faster, stronger, smarter soldiers was every general’s dream, but it was the private sector, and Flynn’s company Orion Security in particular, that was going to make it a reality.
They were close. There’d been a trial in Africa, where Orion had a potentially huge contract to guard a convoy conveying diamonds from a rich mine in the rebel-army-infested interior to the coast. At first it had worked like a dream. He and Lee had watched as the team moved with increased precision and speed, like a well-oiled machine. Visibly enhanced, a joy to behold. And then the breakdown, where they self-immolated.
But those first hours were promising. Lee said he had pinpointed the problem—a question of dosage—and one trial had gone very well and another trial was scheduled for next week.
But this new development…
If Flynn hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it. The potential. There was no limit to what he could earn with enhanced soldiers with powers like those.
Lee was onto something that would change the world, it if didn’t kill him first.
If Flynn didn’t know better, he’d say Lee was drunk. But Lee didn’t drink, he was a teetotaler, something Flynn couldn’t understand. The world was full of pleasures Lee seemed immune to. He was a driven, dedicated man, and he was falling apart.
The signs were clear.
Lee had spent the entire time drumming his fingers restlessly on the desktop and jiggling his foot. He’d swallowed often and adjusted his shirt collar as if it were too tight, though actually it was loose. Lee had lost at least ten pounds since the last time Flynn had seen him.
