Chapter Fourteen
Fourteen
Helen didn’t need any of her unusual abilities to tell her the man standing in front of her was dangerous.
Even looking up from where she was, his power unnerved her, as if he was standing too close for comfort.
Something dark and ruthless lurked behind those silver eyes gazing down at her so dispassionately, taking in the whole scene in the elevator.
She didn’t particularly care for the way he just stood there watching her either.
She felt like some new trainee being judged incompetent at handling a simple job.
“Need help getting up?” the stranger asked.
His voice was low, like a man who knew people would listen to him. Slightly husky, like he didn’t talk much. Not that he was offering her any help either, because his hands were still in his pockets. One dark brow lifted, waiting for her answer.
Helen’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t need any help, especially from him. Moving her limbs tentatively, she stretched her right leg. No pain. She pushed herself to a crouch. He still just stood there, watching her as she tried to stand up and lost her balance.
She frowned, looking down at her right leg.
She had felt a twinge and then it had given out, but there had been no pain.
She tried getting up again, this time slowly and carefully, her eyes grimly on those jeans-clad legs as she straightened to her full height.
Damn, she was hoping he would be shorter but no such luck.
Finally she looked up, expecting to see scorn in his eyes.
There was none. Those silver eyes, though—they were damn compelling.
Danger.
Her whole being lit up like a thousand lightbulbs and she fought the urge to take a step back. Not liking how he was making her feel, she casually looked down at her hands. Blood. And grime from…? She frowned. The oily stuff she had felt while she was rolling around on top of the elevator.
Oh well. Then all her clothes were covered with the stuff. She looked back at the man as she wiped her hands nonchalantly down the side of her bodysuit. Fashionably spy-black to hide blood and grime, of course.
So, he wanted her to talk first? Maybe he was just speechless from admiration. “Did De Clerq send you?” she asked politely, taking a moment again to reexamine her hands, as if having a dead man at her feet was an everyday thing.
De Clerq was strangely silent in her earpiece. Maybe they were all speechless with admiration at what she’d done.
He didn’t respond immediately as his gaze slid down the length of her and back.
It was irritating her. His dark brown hair was combed back neatly, reminding her that hers was probably hell to look at.
A dark lock curled over his forehead. She quickly took in the masculine features—nothing soft, from the look in those strange eyes that glittered back at her to the uncompromising set of those lips.
He looked too damn comfortable in his faded jacket.
His weathered jeans fitted him too damn well.
So casual. So ordinary. And everything about him sang danger.
It was her turn to arch an eyebrow. What? Were they going to just stand here?
“Do you still have the SEED?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Number One is going to set the stage upstairs to provide distraction. He’ll demand to see Weber immediately and cause enough trouble to get more security going upstairs.
Weber is still occupied. It’s evening and most of the floors are empty, so you won’t have trouble moving from floor to floor using the stairwell.
” He pointed to the direction she had to take, then looked down at her legs. “Are you injured?”
Helen straightened even more. She recalled her leg being twisted around like a limb in a wrestling match while her upper body was trapped above the elevator.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” she replied smoothly. After all, she didn’t feel any pain. “What floor am I on again?”
“Twelfth. Can you make it?”
“If I don’t, will you carry me?” she retorted. She gave him a cursory up and down glance. “Might dirty that nice clean outfit.”
He moved for the first time. Just one step. And she didn’t like that she had to tilt her head up to look at him. She took in a breath. A heady sensation rushed through her. Gads, the man even smelled of danger. Either that or rocking around in the elevator had made her light-headed.
“Supersoldier-spy,” he said softly, and there was no mistaking the mockery in that husky voice. “Surely twelve flights of steps is nothing to you, injured or not.”
A challenge was a challenge. “What are you going to do? Stand here to time me?”
His speed took her by surprise. One moment she was inside the elevator with him. The next she found herself being lifted by the waist, shifted, and set back on her feet. It was so fast, she didn’t have time to retaliate.
“I’m taking the elevator down of course,” he told her as he took a step back.
She stared at him as he leaned forward to press the button.
“Down?” she echoed. “Why? I have the key card. There’s nothing down there.”
His eyes glittered back at her as the doors began to slide. “You have unfinished business,” he said, and the doors shut.
Helen stared at the closed doors for a second. She remembered the man she’d tied in the vault. “De Clerq,” she said sharply. “Who…was…that?”
“Number Nine,” De Clerq told her.
One of the commandos. Figured. “Tell me he isn’t going down to the vault,” she said. She was mad at herself, for what her one mistake had caused her. “He doesn’t have to do this.”
“He finishes the operation. Now get the hell out of the building. Security’s already alerted about trouble on the top floor. Leave it to the others to get the rest of the operation. We need you back in the van pronto, with the key card.”
She had no choice. The electronic card was more important than her pride. She turned in the direction he had pointed and started to…limp. She looked down in surprise. The serum was definitely blocking any pain.
She followed the signs to the exit doors.
Right. Twelve flights of stairs. She could do it.
She pushed them open. The body of a man slumped against the railing.
No blood. But the angle of his head told her he was dead.
She remembered De Clerq telling her that there were two men outside the elevator, with one running off, presumably to get more help. This must be him.
There was no doubt in her mind whom the unfortunate man had bumped into. Mr. I-am-a-god-in-jeans. She started limping down the stairs, then decided to take two at a time. No way was she going to let any injury cause any more delays in this mission.
“Agent 51, can you hear me?”
One needed quiet when one was remote viewing. It was hard enough to do it in a van full of electronic equipment that disturbed his senses. Didn’t his monitor understand that he needed a modicum of silence? Some kind of white noise filter would be helpful.
But no, time and again they interrupted him with loud discussions about what was going on. He was pulled back in each time, catching drifts of conversation about what was happening inside Deutsche International.
Rage and frustration coursed through him.
He couldn’t savor those delicious emotions in the energy spectrum.
They were still going way too fast. And the fucking guys were constantly interrupting.
This last time almost made him yell at them.
Having a hard-on for so long with no relief was painful.
Didn’t they fucking know that? He needed to find a way to slow the images down…
get some relief…so he could…More snippets of conversation cut through his focus.
“What the hell is going on at that place? The list HQ faxed me has some big-time names on it.”
“I suspect COS Command Center has something to do with it. Security overload is perfect for a heist, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but they’re taking a chance with so many people on alert in there.”
Shut up! Shut the fuck up. But if he said what was on his mind, they would get mad and might not use him anymore.
He had to be good, bide his time with this thing.
Double dosage. He mustn’t be greedy. He had plenty recorded from the earlier session and he could spend all of tonight rewinding and rewinding and rewinding…
“Agent 51, you’ve been quiet for a while now.”
“They always look like they’ve fallen asleep when they’re doing this. How do you tell the difference?”
“As long as he answers when I talk to him.”
He’d better say something then. “I can hear you.” Maybe he could be tactful with his request. It was too late anyway.
Opening his eyes, he added, “But you need to speak softer. I can’t sense very well when there’s so much noise around me.
You pulled my whole consciousness back here and I’ll need ten minutes to get back into RV mode. ”
His monitor studied him for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. I apologize for the interruption. Are you sure the key’s still there?”
He knew it was still in the building. As for the location of that room he saw…
he hadn’t been able to pinpoint it exactly.
“I’m sure it’s there,” he answered truthfully, mentally crossing his fingers that they wouldn’t push him for the location.
He elaborated more, hoping it would satisfy them that he knew what he was talking about.
“I see the same long dark shaft. Same enclosed tunnel and space. I sense the point of entry to that place in a very high-up location.”
“So the key’s still up at Weber’s office somewhere then?”
“I don’t know who Weber is but yes, the key is around there,” he hedged.
“You’d better be right, 51,” his monitor warned. “Now, what could we do to help you get back into RV mode? The drug’s still good, right? You’re feeling the beginnings of downtime, right?”
“Oh no, I’m okay, sir,” he said, “but I need to go to take a piss, splash some water on my face.”