Chapter Two #2
His lips quirked at using her nickname as a pun. There was no halfway when it came to Helen Roston. Everyone fondly called her “Hell-on-wheels”, “Hell-ery”, or joked that she was a hell of a woman. Now she was hell-bent on getting his identity.
“If she insists on seeing you? You know how she can be.”
“You can give her my communication number.”
He’d been a little worried about her but if she was well enough to ignore a direct order to rest and instead rush here to talk Kirkland into telling her about her monitor, she couldn’t be in too much need of a lengthy downtime.
He couldn’t decide whether to reward her or punish her for disobeying orders. He’d wait, see what she’d do first.
A strong woman like Helen would have her guard up once she found out his identity.
He’d better take every advantage given him.
Keeping her off-balance was one way. In her sensitive state, she was at his mercy.
Surely, as a trained operative aware of having been imprinted, she’d be aware of that fact.
In her condition, it’d be easy to keep her in a state of arousal for a while.
It’d be interesting to see how long she would last.
HELEN WENT THROUGH the lobby and pressed the elevator button.
Dr. Kirkland was waiting for her. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about anything, not really, but he was the only person from whom she might be able to get some answers.
She mentally went through all the points she was going to bring up.
Focus. I need to keep focusing on the points.
Everything was riding on her body being able to handle the serum. She’d read about the possible aftereffects, had been prepared for disorientation, pain even, but not this...this...whatever this was. Armando Chang had tried to warn her.
She entered the elevator. Reaching out, she realized both her hands were clenched. She sighed, unclenched them, and entered her code. She’d been trying so hard to block out her sensitivity, she hadn’t noticed how tightly wound up she was. A few days’ rest? What rest?
“There has to be a way out of this problem,” she muttered. There had to be.
Oh, but there was, but there had to be another way, one that had nothing to do with him.
Instantly, the memory of his dark shadow looming over her bed taunted her.
She gritted her teeth with frustration as sensations she shouldn’t be feeling while standing alone in the middle of an elevator started to bloom, making her weak in the knees.
No, she hadn’t prepared herself for this at all.
She charged out of the elevator, hurrying down the corridor toward the Medic wing, trying to focus on her destination rather than her condition. If she didn’t have a tight grip on herself, she’d be standing here lost in sensation. That wouldn’t be good.
Hearing voices, she collected herself and slowed before turning the corner. She came to a dead stop. Talk about the devil. Jed McNeil was standing in the hallway with two men in camouflaged fatigues, his attention on a piece of paper.
Helen stared at him. It was ridiculous how her heart rate zoomed up at the sight of him.
He was dressed in black, exactly how she’d seen him in those few moments when she’d remote viewed the ship.
Side by side with the other two uniformed men, he looked fighting fit, lean and dangerous, the tight black shirt molding his athletic body like a second skin.
As she headed closer toward the group, the man to Jed’s right paused in the middle of a sentence and nodded at her before resuming. Jed didn’t look up, continuing to read the piece of paper in his hand, as if he hadn’t noticed the hesitation.
She realized then that he wasn’t going to look up to acknowledge her at all. Determinedly, she walked up to them, murmuring “excuse me”, as she brushed past. No reaction from Jed.
Should she greet him? Why not? “Agent McNeil.”
His lashes were long and dark. A lock of hair curled over his forehead and she suddenly felt the urge to comb it with her fingers. What would it feel like?
It dawned on her that this was the first time she’d stood still long enough to really look at him. The first time she’d met the infamous Number Nine, she’d literally landed at his feet, having just fought off an attack. The next time didn’t count either; she hadn’t been herself.
Not that she was herself now. But if he really was her monitor...
He lifted his gaze from that piece of paper. His full attention felt like a jolt of electricity. She stared into those strange light eyes of his, trying to see whether he’d somehow betray he was her monitor. But his gaze was cool, impersonal, curt, even.
“Agent Roston,” he said. And started to walk away, followed by the two operatives.
Helen stared after him, stunned at the quick dismissal.
“Wait!” she called out.
That stopped him. He turned.
“Do you need something, Agent Roston?”
She could feel her temper rising. If that was his polite way of saying he had something important to do and she was bothering him, he failed miserably. After all, she was part of his team now. “Yes, actually I do. Can I see you in private as soon as possible?”
“Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? It had to be today. She had to know if he was Hades or not. “Can it be sooner?” she asked, trying to sound polite.
“Tomorrow,” he reiterated softly, “will be soon enough, Agent Roston. You’ve been given a few days off.”
What was that supposed to mean? “What if it’s an emergency?”
She tried to appear cool and calm as he quietly studied her for a moment. These small silences he took were unnerving, especially with those eyes which seemed to see too much.
He cocked his head a fraction. “Well?”
“Well, what?” she asked, a frown forming.
“The emergency, Agent Roston.”
She shook her head. “It’s private, Agent McNeil,” she said, and instantly regretted it.
A hint of amusement entered those glacial eyes. He retraced his footsteps until he stood in front of her.
“It’s a private emergency?” His low raspy voice made the question sound even more intimate. “Is this private enough?”
He wasn’t standing too close but something about him made Helen feel as if every male inch of him was pressed against her. She almost leaned closer, to see whether she was imagining the heat emanating from his body, but resisted the temptation just in time.
She stared at the black fabric spanning his chest and wondered at the solid strength it projected. What would it be like to smooth her hands over it? Immediately the palms of her hands started itching.
What the hell was the matter with her? She mentally slapped herself, lifting her gaze off his body to his face. The amusement was palpable now, even though his expression remained unreadable. She hoped he couldn’t sense the highly agitated emotions that were swirling inside her.
“No,” she said.
“No?” One eyebrow raised.
The other two operatives looked on with interest as Helen struggled with unfamiliar frustration. On one hand, she wanted Jed alone so she could confront him. On the other hand, she wanted to call his bluff. She had a feeling, though, that it wouldn’t be an easy task to ruffle Jed McNeil.
But she wasn’t nicknamed Hell for nothing. Time to be brash.
She gave him her best innocuous smile. “It isn’t exactly an emergency, but it has to be now, while I’m still suff...
under the effects of the serum. Since the commandos will be going on my missions, I thought I’d better test each of you for physical prowess,” she drawled, “you know, see whether any of you can keep up.”
She kept the smile on her face, as if she hadn’t just pulled a tiger’s tail.
He didn’t move, yet she could feel the subtle change in the air.
He was holding back; she was sure of it.
Besides, judging from the amused looks on the other two men, there was no way the man would back off from that kind of challenge.
“SYMBIOS 2 locks exhaustion and pain,” Jed said politely. “Do you want me to exhaust you or cause you discomfort?”
“Perhaps SYMBIOS 2 will outlast your efforts and you’ll be the one left exhausted and in discomfort,” she pointed out softly.
The corners of his lips quirked in that mocking way that both fascinated and irritated her.
“I have three meetings today, back-to-back. I’m at your disposal any time after that.
” His gaze traveled down her body. “Stay comfortable, Agent Roston. All the commandos wouldn’t want you suffering from the effects of the serum now, would we? ”
He didn’t wait for an answer, turning back to his waiting men and walking off. Helen stared after his retreating back, not at all sure who had won that round. Damn. He’d distracted her so that she hadn’t asked how to get hold of him and when exactly that last meeting would end.
TO HER RELIEF, DR. Kirkland’s door was open and he was alone. Right now, she didn’t want his assistant or any other Medic listening in.
“Helen,” he greeted her warmly. “Come on in. Close the door behind you and have a seat.”
“Are we alone?” Helen asked. “No cameras, no recorders, no hidden robot under your desk?”
He smiled, shaking his head. “No, not even a robot under my desk. This will be just a doctor-patient confidential session.”
“Good.” Helen sat down. “It’s very uncomfortable for me talking about my current problem.”
“You explained it quite well when we talked the last time. The SYMBIOS serum was meant to deflect your pain receptors as well as limit certain chemicals in your brain so you could function at one hundred percent immediately after remote viewing. It certainly makes sense that as the serum wears off, your body compensates the chemicals it’d been tricked into thinking your system lacked.
Hence, the over-compensating problem since they had been present all along, camouflaged from your brain. ”
Helen pursed her lips. Everything sounded so nicely scientific and ridiculously logical when someone in a white coat explained it. She wondered how Jed McNeil would explain it.