Authors: Joni Hahn
Lowering his arms, Dylan turned away with a bitter laugh. “You’re dreaming.”
Whipping around to face him, she said, “Why? Because you think I’m incapable – or corrupt?”
His eyes met hers across the room. “Use whatever word you want, sweetheart. Bottom line is, I don’t trust you.”
Sighing aloud, Mitchell motioned toward the bed. “Dr. Hamilton, please sit down.” Turning to Dylan, he pointed at the desk chair. “You too, McCall.”
Lowering onto the mattress, she pushed up her glasses and glared at Dylan, before turning to Mitchell.
“My credentials are impeccable,” she said. “Outside of Dr. Capri, you won’t find anyone more qualified to work with Matheson’s technology.”
Dylan barked out a cynical laugh. Of course, she’d say that.
“What?” She sat up straight, defiance ripe in her tone.
Mitchell held up a hand to halt Dylan’s reply.
Dammit
.
“I realize that, Dr. Hamilton,” Mitchell said. “According to your background check, I should have no reason to doubt you.”
She turned to Dylan with a smug smile, an eyebrow cocked over one eye.
“However,” he continued, “your agreement to work for Cyrus has made me skeptical.” He gave her a small, condescending smile. “I’m sure you understand.”
Dylan gave a slow nod. Finally, someone spoke some common sense.
“Well, then,” she said, on a gust of breath, “I’ll just be on my way.” Standing up, she pulled down the hem of her shirt.
Mitchell said, “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave, either.”
Dylan did a mental fist pump.
Take that, sweetheart
.
“You can’t hold me against my will. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Holding up the file in his hand, Mitchell said, “I have orders from Homeland Security to hold you as long as I see fit.”
She pulled back her head. “Homeland Security? I thought you were a private agency.”
“I’m a former SEAL C.O., Dr. Hamilton. I have connections.” He tossed the file on the desk beside Dylan.
“
I’m not a criminal…
” She spoke through gritted teeth.
Clint’s composed voice broke into her tirade. “Teague, calm down. Just listen for a moment…”
She held up her hands in supplication. “I’ve had no part in Cyrus Matheson’s criminal machinations.”
“
Teague
,” Clint said, with a note of exasperation. “We want to give you a chance to prove us wrong.”
Dylan whipped around to look at Clint, his body tensing. “We do?”
Tilting her head, she stared at Mitchell with small eyes. “How?”
Mitchell said, “We believe the key to finding his clones lies in his genetic technology. Help us find that key.”
Dylan jumped up from the chair, disbelief slithering through his veins. “You can’t possibly mean-”
Mitchell held up another hand, before turning to Teague. “Dr. Hamilton, I want you to work for D.I.R.E.”
“The position requires you to live here at Headquarters,” Mitchell said, his hands behind his back. “Any communication with the outside world would be monitored by our team until we deem you no threat.”
They saw her as a villain. A common criminal. They wanted to use her knowledge and steal her freedom.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Teague willed away the double vision that assaulted her. Sitting on the bed again, she took a deep, calming breath and let it out.
The effects of her multiple sclerosis usually hit her at stressful times and lasted for hours, if not days or weeks. With each episode, she wondered how much longer she could do her job.
Her dream of having a happy, healthy baby of her own grew more remote each day. With her family medical history and the symptoms of her MS, she didn’t have much time – or the resources - to figure out how to correct the imperfections in her code.
Dylan pointed at her. “No threat? She took a job with Matheson. Who accepts a job offer without researching the employer?”
She couldn’t deny Dylan’s logic. Desperation had rushed her decision to work for Cyrus Matheson. Though she suspected something sketchy about him, never in a million years would she have guessed he kidnapped people and cloned humans.
Her gaze swept over Dylan’s attractive form. He appeared different to her now, not a man of arrogance or conceit, but one immersed in a need for revenge. She proved a convenient target for his animosity until he destroyed Cyrus and his people.
That morning on the beach, he’d conducted himself with confidence, skill and quick thinking. If Matheson wanted to strengthen his security force, she could see the benefits of Dylan McCall.
“What do you think, Teague?” Clint said.
She bit her bottom lip. Orphaned by parents with poor health, she would be a fool not to use her knowledge to ensure any baby she conceived would live a long, healthy life.
Then, she wouldn’t be alone.
If she had access to the technology, she could work on her DNA while searching for the key to the clones. Once she found it, she would gain the agency’s trust and earn back her freedom.
What she also had to consider was this increasing attraction to Dylan McCall. The man was impossibly egotistical, but good God, was he beautiful. He didn’t trust her and would watch her every move. If he caught her working on her own agenda, she’d never get the opportunity to leave D.I.R.E. and find a sperm donor.
She had no choice.
Looking at Dylan, she said, “Gentlemen, you have yourselves a geneticist.”
***
“Did you get Dr. Hamilton?”
Cyrus watched Xander’s face as he escorted a clone into the solitary confinement cell. His new head of security excelled at his post, had been trained and created to protect him and his interests at all costs.
“No, sir. The D.I.R.E. Agency had a team on site and took her into custody.”
Anger flared his nostrils. Cyrus knew he’d always get the best out of Xander – his dominant genes assured it. Therefore, he had no need to scold or threaten. It would get him nowhere.
Pulling a prison guard uniform out of Xander’s bag, Cyrus changed out of his abhorrent orange jumpsuit and handed it to the clone. Every day spent in this filthy, smelly prison increased his anger. He’d requested solitary not only to make it easier to escape, but to get away from the body odor and hostility of the other inmates. Living without Keegan, his childhood sweetheart, proved hard enough in the real world. Surrounded by rage and violence, he hovered on the edges of sanity.
No more.
Xander held up a tablet that played the video of Dr. Hamilton’s rescue attempt. Not only had D.I.R.E. taken over his grandfather’s island and battled his team of security personnel, Dylan McCall had taken out several of them,
and
one of his choppers.
The footage reinforced why he’d used McCall’s DNA to help build his security team. In addition to loyalty and bravery, the man had astonishing dexterity and proved a quick thinker.
Based on how easily McCall had defeated his team, Cyrus needed to work on the genetic code and make them tougher. He had to bring his Altay Mountain testing facility into full operation.
He needed Teague Hamilton onsite.
Staring at the devastation Jaydan Rose and the D.I.R.E. Agency had caused to the island, Cyrus nursed the rage that bubbled inside him, allowing it to simmer on the surface. He’d formed his own, ideal domain on that island and they’d destroyed it.
So, he would destroy them.
Tucking his white shirt into dark trousers, Cyrus ran a hand over his whiskered jaw. Gads, he hated facial hair. He needed a hot shower, real food, and Keegan.
Another thing D.I.R.E. had taken from him.
Cyrus gave his clone a good onceover. Xander had missed no details with this one. He’d deprived him of sleep to ensure he had dark circles under his eyes, and had grown out his facial hair so the guards wouldn’t recognize his substitute.
Straightening the belt at his waist, Cyrus confirmed his uniform matched Xander’s to a tee, from the baton, handcuffs and pepper spray, to the two-way radio and surgical glove case at his belt.
He spoke to the clone. “Speak as little as possible, cooperate, and do not let anyone touch you.” Cringing, Cyrus rummaged in the bag further, retrieving a blade and syringe. “We don’t want to take back disease to the fold.”
“Yes, sir.”
Xander held open the cell door for Cyrus. He stopped in the doorway and turned around. “We’ll get you out of here soon. Once we retrieve Dr. Hamilton, there will be no stopping us.”
***
“Dr. Hamilton?”
Looking up from the electron microscope, Teague shoved an errant hair out of her eye and smiled at the petite woman standing a few feet away. Many of the agency women were beautiful in one way or another, which put her into the
fat chance
slot on the dating barometer.
Except for that year or so in college, she’d spent most of her adult life in the lab rather than dating. Men just weren’t interested in a woman that could debate politics, write her own software applications and discuss genetic medicine with intelligence. Most sought a woman that was creative and responsive in bed, nothing more.
Too bad none of them stuck around to discover that facet of her character.
“Yes?”
“I’m Jocelyn Chalmers, one of Clint’s associates. We’ll be working together.” Leading Teague out of the room, she said, “My fiancé is d’Artagnan Naylor, one of our super agents.”
“Super agents?” Teague said, before taking a sip of her morning coffee. The D.I.R.E. cafeteria had
the
best latte she’d tasted in a long time.
Jocelyn glanced at her with a frown. “Clint didn’t tell you about our enhancement program?”
Teague smiled at a passing technician pushing a metal cart. He did a double take and returned the smile.
“We discussed Matheson’s genetic enhancements,” Teague said. “Is that what you’re referring to?”
Shaking her head, Jocelyn pushed open a door. Clint and Mitchell stood before a wall of windows, a blonde woman beside them.
Teague frowned. Why did she feel the need to brace herself?
Clint greeted her with a smile. “Teague. You’re about to be initiated into the world of D.I.R.E.”
She glanced at each of them, wariness niggling her stomach. “So, I should consider the gun battle on the beach just a bit of hazing?”
The room erupted in chuckles.
The blonde said, “Good comparison. I’m Hope Powers, the Powers Technology liaison to the agency.”
Waving Teague forward, Mitchell said, “Hope is engaged to agent, Jaydan Rose. You saw some of his handiwork in the mansion foyer.” He nodded at Jocelyn. “You’ve met Jocelyn. You’ll be working closely with them.”
While the women gave her an enthusiastic welcome that warmed her heart, she couldn’t afford to get close. She had every intention of betraying them, and then leaving.
“We’re ready, Mitchell.” Dylan’s deep voice came over the room’s speaker system.
Goose bumps sprouted on her arms. She took a sip of coffee to warm her insides.
Mitchell said, “Teague, we’re putting up McCall against St. James and Rose, two of our top agents, in a close quarters combat training exercise. This is one of many tests to determine the best scientific enhancement for his skills. In addition to your work on the genetics technology, you’re going to be working with Clint to get Dylan up and running.”
“Scientific enhancement?” she said, walking over to the windows.
A maze of makeshift buildings and doors filled the yard below, mannequins and other obstacles dotting the course at intervals. Gun in hand, Dylan stood in an open doorway in the far corner, two armed men hiding in the walls, ready to spring. Each wore copper and gold armbands like the one strapped to Dylan’s arm - the straps missing.
“And, what do you mean by up and running?” She glanced at Mitchell, before settling her gaze on Clint. “What purpose do the armbands serve other than communication devices?”
With a boyish grin, Clint shoved the shaggy, blond hair from his forehead. “I’ll answer all of your questions after the exercise. Trust me, you’ll have more.”
She looked back at Dylan whose deep frown and creased forehead spoke of concentration. He hopped in place, cocking his head from side to side, loosening his muscles. He took a deep breath and blew it out, before settling a large gun at his shoulder.
He said, “Let’s do this.”
Clint spoke into a headset. “Saint, Rose, ready to roll?”
With affirmations from the men, Clint set off a buzzer. With light, sure feet, Dylan made his way through the maze, gun at the ready. He picked off targets as they sprang up, much like he did on the beach. His reflexes were lightning-quick, his muscular legs lithe and steady.
He took out targets with expert precision, never missing a beat. His gun remained ready to fire, his feet never flat on the ground. The bulky agent burst through a wall, sending wood and sheetrock flying in all directions. Her heart leapt in her chest.
“
Good God
…”
Dylan dropped to the ground and rolled, firing up at the agent without breaking his rhythm. Paint sprayed the agent’s shirt with bright pink splashes. Dylan backed out of the debris, gun firing.
A wooden target sprang behind him. He whipped around and fired, before rushing further into the maze. The other agent crouched behind a door, ready to spring. Running down a corridor at full speed, Dylan planted a foot on the opposite wall and ran across a few steps, firing down at the agent through an open doorway, missing him. The agent held his hands facing Dylan. The gun flew from his arms and into the agent’s hands.
Teague gasped. “How did he do that?” she said against the glass, her heart pounding.
Dropping to a low squat, Dylan swung out a leg, knocking the agent off his feet. Grabbing something from his rolled up shirtsleeve, Dylan threw it down at the agent’s chest. Pink paint splattered the agent’s shirt before Dylan ran through another doorway. With a knife to a mannequin’s throat, Dylan scaled a wall in two, long strides, before dropping onto the other side. He hit the finish button.
Questions bombarded her brain. Her mind told her she didn’t see the agent bust through the wall like newspaper, or the gun fly from Dylan’s hands of its own volition.
Yet, she
had
seen it.
Mitchell stared at his timer before glancing at Clint. He gave a wide grin. “We know why Cyrus wanted his genetics.”
Teague glanced back and forth between the men. “So Cyrus Matheson kidnapped Dylan to gain his athletic ability and create clones in his image?”
Mitchell gave a brief nod. “Based on intel from Hope and Jaydan, they don’t necessarily have to look like him to have his abilities.”
Hope’s low voice matched the solemnity in her round eyes. “I also saw a clone that looked exactly like my brother, Riordan. So, Cyrus could manipulate the genetics at will.”
Teague’s mind whirled. If the clones were made to protect Cyrus’s best interests, they wouldn’t rest until he was released from prison.
“So, these clones could be anyone, and be anywhere?” she said.
Mitchell nodded. “We have no idea how many he created or how long his operation existed before we discovered it.”
Jocelyn said, “His grandfather was a founding partner in the Eugenics Master Race initiative back in the nineteen thirties, so he has a family history of manipulating the human race. My father worked with the program as well.”
Jocelyn had to be younger than her own nearly thirty years. There’s no way her father could’ve worked with the initiative.
Frowning, Teague gazed at her. “Your father?”
She nodded. “Yes. In his arrogance, he thought he could change the outcome of World War II and bring the plan to fruition.” With a quick glance at Mitchell, she said, “Thank God, Mitchell and Dar put a stop to it.”
Glancing around the room, Teague wondered if she’d stepped into a dream, or some type of mind control chamber. Did Jocelyn honestly think Mitchell Jacobs had played a role in World War II? The man wasn’t alive at the time.