Hybrid Zone Recognition (18 page)

I was not aiming to stir up trouble on the team. I couldn’t control what Michaels did or did not feel. And I certainly didn’t want to walk around on egg shells, monitoring my every interaction for something that might set him off. He would have to learn to deal with me for who I was. Just like I was learning to deal with him and his issues.

Uugh, busted by my own logic. Ignoring who he was did not equal learning to deal with him. It was the exact opposite.

“I’ll try, Olivia.” I meant it. I would try to understand what he was feeling towards me, but that didn’t mean that I echoed his feelings.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

The relief in her voice was annoying. “That doesn’t mean that I belong to Michaels,” I added sternly.

“Understood,” she said without sincerity. Clearly, she did not agree with me.

“And, that doesn’t mean I won’t say something if I think he’s getting out of hand.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

By the look on her face, one would have thought I’d promised to marry him. I’d only agreed to try and work with him better. That knowing look in her eyes made me suspicious. What did she know that I didn’t?

“You ready?” she asked.

“For what?” I asked suspiciously. She was up to something.

“To rejoin the others,” she said innocently. “What else could I possibly be referring to?”

That was exactly what I was wondering and what still had me glued to this bench. I had the feeling I’d just signed a contract that I hadn’t read. Dad gum fine print.

From my seat on the bench, I could overhear strains of conversation. One overly loud one in particular caught my attention. “Miranda?” I said, looking quickly to Olivia for confirmation. “She’s here?”

Olivia nodded and held out her hand, which I gratefully accepted. Seemingly without effort, she pulled me to my feet.

“I know I’m not your best friend,” she said, nodding in Miranda’s general direction, “but, I hope you do consider me a friend or at least, not an enemy.”

I looked into her face, which was so similar to mine. “I think we could have been sisters separated at birth.”

Her eyebrows almost touched her bangs. “We do look freakishly alike, don’t we?”

We were the same height, too. We spent a few seconds studying each other’s faces before the laughter took over.

“Well, you know what they say,” I exhaled. “You can never have enough friends.”

“Do they? I thought that was money.”

I frowned in concentration. “You might be right. In that case, does two count as too many friends?”

She eyed me thoughtfully. “Little low in the friends department?”

“Most require too much time and work. The first, I have little to spare, and the second, I have too much of.”

She nodded in understanding. “Fortunately,” she sniffed, “I happen to be mostly self-sustaining.”

“Is that right?”

“I also believe honesty is always the best policy, life is worth living, and pasta is God’s gift to mankind.”

It took a moment for me to process the unrelated list. I agreed with the first two, and it was true that I rarely met a pasta I didn’t like.

“This might work,” I told her.

“Friends it is?” she asked.

“Friends it is,” I repeated.

That was two deals I’d struck with her in a matter of minutes. Dang, she was good.

Chapter 12

W
e left the mudroom and
entered a short hallway that opened into a large great room. The first thing that hit me was the smell. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply in appreciation. Someone had been cooking. God, I hoped there was some for me.

“Macy!”

I opened my eyes to see Miranda rapidly crossing the room. She engulfed me in a bear hug that made me wince in pain.

“Sorry, sorry. They said you were injured.” She stepped back, locking me in place with her hands on my shoulders. She gave me a quick once over, then she screwed her face up and asked, “What the heck are you wearing? You look like a shipwrecked pirate.”

I laughed. “And you smell like garlic.” I sniffed again. “And oregano.”

She sniffed me in return and drew back in disgust. “I have to tell you, sister, that’s a whole lot better than what you smell like.”

I imagined it was. You could have put my picture in the dictionary next to the definition of filthy, along with a warning not to inhale when in the presence of.

“Come on then, let’s get you something to eat.” She pulled me into a sideways hug as she ushered me into the room. “You can’t be all that hurt if you are focused on food,” she said happily, and then muttered, “Let’s hope your funk doesn’t ruin everyone’s appetite.”

I wasn’t about to argue. I just let her lead me to dinner. She knew better than anyone I could eat while at death’s very door. Tonight, even “my funk” would not deter me. And, if the other’s couldn’t eat, well, that would be more for me.

As she led me to the table, I caught Michaels’ gaze following me. My stomach did a little flip when I saw the brief flare of pain in his eyes. He quickly turned his attention elsewhere, in what I thought was an effort to shield himself from me. That made me feel even worse.

It wasn’t my intention to hurt him. I wasn’t trying to provoke him or stir up his alpha male whatever. Nonetheless, I felt like I needed to apologize, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think of what to say that didn’t sound insulting.

Miranda led me to the table, and I noticed the others were spread throughout the room, involved in easy conversations. They were all talking and laughing like old friends. It was a nice feeling. Hadn’t had too many of those lately.

The meal tonight was lasagna. I took a seat and offered her a grateful smile when she served me a very large piece. After she’d plated the lasagna for everyone, she sat beside me. Cedars took the seat next to her. The others filtered in and filled the opposite side of the table. An obviously reluctant Michaels took the vacant seat next to me.

Uugh, I hated all this drama and tension. In a fit of spontaneity, I reached for Michaels’ hand under the table and laced my finger through his. I didn’t know what I was saying in hybrid lingo, but I was trying to convey my sorrow at offending him. I kept a tight hold on his hand until his fingers wrapped around mine. I hoped that meant he accepted my apology.

“Well,” Miranda said when no one picked up a fork, “do you need a formal invitation?”

Obeying her directive to dig in, I let go of Michaels’ hand and replaced it with a fork. The next fifteen minutes were filled with silence as everyone ate.

After my third helping, I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my stomach. “You outdid yourself this time, Miranda.”

“There’s more,” she said with a gleam in her eye.

There was only one thing we ever had after lasagna—cheesecake.

Using my last piece of garlic bread to mop up the sauce from the lasagna, I absently queried, “Would the more entail cream cheese and sugar?”

She rolled her eyes, but she was clearly enjoying this. “Among other things.”

I was going to have to work for it then. “Nuts?”

“Possibly.”

“Chocolate chips?”

Her smile widened.

“Caramel?”

She got up from the table and reappeared with a chocolate turtle cheesecake. Wow. It was my absolute favorite. It brought me to tears.

She sat the cheesecake on the table and wrapped one arm around my shoulder. “You okay?”

I pretended not to notice the quiver in her voice. We didn’t like crying. Not alone and definitely not in front of a crowd. I took a deep breath, determined to hold back the tears. It had to be a release of tension. I wasn’t seriously crying over a cheesecake.

I snuck a look at Michaels. He was frowning at me again, which, of course, made me laugh. “I’m fine. It’s just been an interesting couple of days. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

“You’d better. And, I’ll tell you all about mine.”

I glanced at Cedars. I’d swear he was blushing. “No thanks. I think I’ll skip that debriefing. Update,” I quickly corrected. “I meant update.”

Everyone responded with laughter except for Michaels. He opted for a quiet smirk.

Miranda got up to clear away the dishes, and Cedars trailed her to the kitchen like a lovesick puppy. The others had already cleared out, so that left only me and Michaels still at the table. When I glanced at him again, he was back to his frowning. Okay, enough with the Mr. Grumpy Pants.

I leaned in, hitting his shoulder with my chin. “Would now be a good time for your world altering revelation?”

He seemed unprepared for the question. The room also quieted considerably. I guessed they were all invested in this conversation. He scooted his chair back and sort of angled it towards me, but he seemed unsure how to start.

“You inferred that you were some other kind of doctor besides medical. Why don’t you start there.”

He nodded. “I am a Doctor of Genetic Manipulation. But currently, I am the Operations Director for the Organization.”

I really was not expecting that response. Was he joking? He must be joking.

“There is not a school in the world that offers a doctorate in that. Try again,” I ordered.

His tone was matter of fact when he said, “There is actually. Olivia’s the acting Director.”

I looked at Olivia as she moved to stand behind him.

“He’s telling the truth, Macy. There really is a school dedicated solely to research and development in the field of genetics. There’s a whole other sphere of knowledge pertaining to genetics and hybrids that the rest of the world doesn’t know about. We teach it at the school. That knowledge is what created us.”

Her voice had been soft when she’d spoken, almost imploring me to believe. She’d said it with a straight face, too. Were they all in on the prank? I couldn’t help staring at them. What were they expecting me to say?

Miranda, who had made a swift exit when the conversation began, returned to stand on the other side of the table from me. Guilt was etched in every feature of her face. I had a feeling she was about to confess.

“I’ve been to the school, Macy.”

Well, I had been meaning to address her lapse in judgment when she failed to tell me about her prior association with Michaels, but this went well beyond that. Just when exactly had she found the time to go visit a make believe school without my notice. I was sure my eyes reflected the doubt I had.

“My whole absence wasn’t spent between the sheets,” she said defensively.

Uugh, not why I was upset.

“I’ve looked over their curriculum,” she continued. “It looks like a pretty good program, if you ignore the illegality of it.”

“You managed to travel to this school and review the curriculum all the while entertaining Mr. Cedars?” I knew it was petty and not the best setting to have this discussion, but she had deceived me. And, she started it.

Knowing how I felt about lying, she exchanged the defensive tone for one of pleading. “I was in Houston when you called. I only visited the school a day and a half. That was plenty of time to tour the campus and look over the curriculum.” She was fidgeting with her shirt, but grabbed the chair in front of her when she realized it.

I fixed my gaze on Michaels. “And you had no contact with Michaels prior to then?” If she lied to me now, we were through.

“Well,” she said, her voice uncertain.

I thought so.

“He did contact me, only to introduce himself, when we were camped out in the woods.”

I swung my head to face her.

“It was the second day, and I was bored out of my mind,” she said hurriedly. “He at least provided someone to talk to. You were all serious with your radio silence.” She put air quotes around radio silence. The fact that she was now mocking me didn’t help the situation.

“And, the reason you didn’t tell me any of this?”

She pulled the chair out and sat down. “Honestly?”

“I’d say it’s about time.”

She frowned at me and then looked apologetically at Michaels. “I didn’t believe him.”

Michaels looked up to the ceiling and shook his head.

“The whole idea was really out there. I thought he was just a whacko and there’d be no need to tell you anything. When you did finally rescue me from exile, I’d already forgotten about it, and I had the added distraction of your grossness.”

“He didn’t tell you not to speak with me?”

“No.”

“Did you know they were going to kidnap—”

“Detain,” Olivia interrupted.

“Kid-Nap us?” I finished, eyeballing her.

“No. I didn’t know what Michaels looked like then. The only contact I’d had with him had been over the phone.”

“You used your phone during the stake out!”

“I was weak. I admit it!” she yelled, standing up.

I stood up too. “You told Michaels that I smelled bad!”

“He called to follow up with me. And, what I actually told him was that you could melt the petals off a flower from twenty feet away!”

This was ridiculous. It must be true. Miranda wouldn’t prank me. We hated practical jokes. There was nothing practical about them. They were just mean.

I felt like I had just fallen off the planet into another universe. One where I was the least smartest person in the room. Except for Miranda. She was currently nowhere near my list of smart people.

Scanning the room, I noticed all their faces were still set, like there was more yet to come. I yanked my chair back under me and focused on Michaels.

“What else?” I demanded.

“The school is also the source of talent for the Organization.”

I crossed my arms and sat back. “What exactly does this Organization do?”

“Whatever is necessary to protect the country.”

“Such as stop the Consortium and its plans?” I snorted my derision. “Doesn’t seem to be working out in your favor, does it?”

One look at his face told me he was not happy with my comment or my attitude. I couldn’t say that I particularly cared at the moment.

“And just who decides what is designated as a threat to the country?”

“That would be the board overseeing the Organization.”

“And where does the board get their information?”

Clearing his throat, Juarez stepped closer to the table. “Courtesy of moi. The Organization has…
access
,” he said with a tilt of his head, indicating his use of invasive gathering methods, “to every agency, bureau, and entity within the United States Government and beyond. Basically, my team gathers information from wherever we need to. In addition, I have created various computer programs that filter the information for us.”

How convenient and scary to think of the things he must know about. I guessed nothing could remain hidden from him. Nothing included in a database, anyway, which was just about everything these days.

“Does the government know of your existence?” I asked.

Michaels answered this time. “The President and select security advisors. A few in Congress know, and every branch of the military has a representative that works directly with us to provide aid in whatever form we deem necessary.”

The United States Government was complicit in deceiving the American public at a much greater depth than I had suspected. It not only was fostering illegal research of hybrids, but it employed the use of that research to what…backhandedly control the world? In short, I had left reality and entered the land of freaking comics.

“So,” I began, huffing loudly, “you and your little supped up friends go around saving the world from evil villains, who are about to enact their dastardly plans on the earth. Like some science fiction movie. Is that it?”

Michaels’ glare was glacial, and I met it with one of my own. Belatedly, I realized I’d just insulted everyone in the room, but come on. What they were asking me to believe belonged in fairy tales and sci-fi novels.

Placing both my elbows on the table, I leaned forward and clasped my hands tightly together. “One more thing, what does any of this have to do with me?”

Michaels’ anger was almost palpable as he continued to glare at me. When he didn’t respond, I raised my eyebrows at him in challenge. I wanted so badly to say, cat got your tongue, but that would just be throwing more fuel on the fire. He already looked like he might explode at any moment.

Olivia, ever in her role as mediator, stepped in to fill the tense silence. “We have been observing you for some time.”

I dismissed her with a wave of my hand. “Yeah, I got that already.”

Not dissuaded, she continued. “We have never come across someone like you.”

“I find that hard to believe,” I snapped angrily, turning my glare on her. “Apparently, I’m not even an expert in my field. I bet any kid at your school could outperform me.”

“It’s not a matter of performance,” Michaels said. Though still clearly angry, he had regained some measure of control and rejoined the conversation. “The way your brain works lets you see things the first time that others do not.”

I’d heard some similar sort of nonsense from Director Garrison already. I was about to say as much when he cut me off.

“Let me finish before you open your mouth again,” he snapped.

Goose bumps raced down my arms as anger flushed through me. “Do not speak to me that way.” It came out as a very quiet snarl, but the menace behind it was scary, even to me.

He took in my posture and the look on my face, and something akin to resignation flashed in his eyes. He tilted his head in acknowledgment of his mistake. That simple gesture had the need to pummel him easing off.

More reservedly, he continued. “If I put a thousand different scenarios in front of you, you would pick the solution every time, the first time. For whatever reason, your brain is wired to find the right solution.”