The River (23 page)

"I thought I was in a hospital," she murmured.

He gave her a look that said he wished to God she
was
.

"This is the Centre for Enlightened Living," he said dryly.

She froze.
"CEL!"

"What?"

She told him about Schroeder's code, about his strange message.

"CEL = DEATH!" she said. "But what's it mean?"

Jake raked a hand through his hair. "They're producing a Fountain of Youth serum. And selling it on the black-market to the highest bidders―including politicians and world leaders."

Del hissed in a breath.

The article in the magazine!

"Project Ankh," she said softly.

"They injected me before they brought me here to your room, Del. It's agony. They think your father has the formula for perfecting the serum. For making it painless, permanent. That's one of the reasons why they kept you separate from us. They want to use you to get to the file. Your father told me you were injected too, while you were unconscious."

She shivered, vaguely recalling something…eyes.

"So I have a self-destruct bot running loose in my blood?"

When he nodded, her gaze shifted to her arm, half-expecting to see something move beneath the skin.

"Where's everyone else, Jake?"

"The guys are back in the lab with your father." His eyes darted around the room and he lowered his voice. "There's a camera on the wall above the door. Maybe audio too."

Del's gaze shifted slightly and she saw the tiny flickering red light on a small silver eye.

Standing, she moved toward the bed.

"Scoot over and lie on your side, Jake. Away from the door."

His brow arched slightly and a half-smile formed on his lips.

"Just do it," she sighed.

Climbing onto the bed, she stretched beside him, facing him so that their mouths were almost touching.

Whoever was spying on them would assume they were kissing.

"My, my," Jake whispered. "Aren't you crafty?"

She rolled her eyes at him, trying hard not to laugh.

"Ok, Kerrigan. Give me an update."

His arm curled over her, pulling her closer.

"Don't want the camera to see your lips moving," he said with a grin. "Unless they're moving on mine."

"Shut up, Jake!"

She snuggled closer, just in case.

It didn't take long before she knew everything, including the fact that Gary turned out to be a government hacker. She was relieved to hear that the other men were safe, but she was upset that no one had a clue where Francesca was. When he told her that Miki had drowned, her mouth quivered and she gripped his hand tightly.

Jake's gaze was intense. "Del, we have to get out of here!"

"I know."

"We might not make it…the security is pretty tight."

She touched a finger to his lips, shushing him.

She didn't want to talk anymore. She was exhausted and scared. She was drained from living with a disease that wanted to kill her. Based on how awful she had felt the last few days, her remission was over. She wanted,
needed
, to feel alive.

She leaned close and pressed her lips against his.

She wanted to lose herself. Forget how damned afraid she was. Forget VanBuren, Paughter, the Director―everything.

Her lips coaxed his.

"Del, wait a minute."

She kissed him harder, flipping him over on his back and climbing on top. Briefly taking her lips off his, she quickly peeled off her shirt. Then, unhooking her bra, she tossed it on the floor.

"Del―"

She silenced him again with her mouth.

When would Jake learn to shut up?

Jake tried to push her away, but she clung to him and she slid out of her jeans before she could change her mind.

He opened his mouth. "Uh, you―"

"Could you please stop talking?"

Wearing only a sheer pair of panties, she straddled him, smiling triumphantly.

"One of us is wearing too many clothes. And it isn't me."

"Wait!"

She was tired of waiting.

She bent down, bit his lower lip. Then she devoured him.

His hot hands slid along her ribs and she gasped at the contact.

"I thought you wanted me," she moaned when his head jerked away. "What the hell is your problem?"

"The camera!"

She stiffened.

Crap!
She had forgotten about the damned camera.

He gave her a wicked smile. "You're giving them quite a show. Not that they mind, I'm sure. But I'd prefer to keep this between you and me."

Keeping her back to the camera, she slid to one side.

It was humiliating to be baring it all in front of VanBuren and his security hounds. The thought made her sick.

Jake sat up and inched off the bed.

In one swift movement, he tore off his shirt and flung it toward the camera. He gave a loud grunt when it settled over the lens. Then he stalked toward the bed, his blue eyes blazing with desire, and before she could blink, she was pinned under him.

"Jesus, Jake!"

His mouth came down, hard, impatient. His hands moved over her body possessively, sliding sensuously to her breasts. He caressed them until they throbbed with pleasure. Her body was on fire. Every inch of her craved for his kiss, his touch.

"Jake…"

His mouth greedily tasted her, grazing her throat, her jaw…lower. He returned to her lips and his touch softened, deepened. It became honey sweet.

She was lost.

This might be their only chance.

That single thought spurred her on and made her almost manic with desire. She felt insanely euphoric, drugged. She didn't usually throw herself at a man.

But Jake wasn't just any man. He was fate.

And if this was their only time together she wanted it to be something to remember―hospital room and security cameras aside.

He sighed in her ear. "This is crazy."

"I'm crazy," she said, locking her gaze on him. "About you."

"I've been crazy about
you
since day one."

"I know."

She fisted his hair as he kissed a trail, lower.

"One night, Jake. This may be all we've got."

His mouth found her breast and she gasped.

"So you'd better make it good."

Nineteen

H
ans was edgy. Even an early morning romp with an overeager clerk in the mailroom hadn't relieved the pressure he felt building up inside.

He thought about his partner.

Vance Paughter had been away awhile. Now he wanted a complete status report. That meant a face-to-face meeting.

And that made Hans nervous.

Last time they saw each other, they had both looked about forty.

Hans anxiously paced across the hardwood floor, his shoes clicking as he moved. Then he stopped in front of the mirror and flexed his arms.

"Now you look thirty. He's not going to like this one bit."

He suspected that Vance kept his age roughly around forty, so that Del and the others would trust him. The man was cunning and resourceful. A year ago, he had insisted on doing the job himself.

Whatever it took to get the doctor to give up the file,
he had said.

Hans flicked a glance at the clock.

In five minutes, he'd head to Vance's three-room suite. It was almost as large as the main floor of an average home. Sixteen hundred square feet of luxury. Situated directly above the entrance to the cave, it had a magnificent view of the Nahanni River.

He frowned, miffed.

Perhaps it was time to ask the Director for a bigger office, maybe his own suite. After all, he deserved it. Especially after everything he had done for the Centre in Vance's absence.

He strode into the hallway, locking the door securely behind him.

Faith peeked up, but he ignored her and turned down the main corridor toward Vance's suite.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked hesitantly on the door.

"Enter!"

When he stepped inside, Hans was greeted by what appeared to be an empty room―empty except for a few pieces of expensive mahogany furniture. A few feet away, a large round table and eight unoccupied high-backed chairs blocked his way.

He swiftly closed the door and weaved past the chairs, coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of the room.

He frowned.
Where's Vance, for Christ's sake?

Then he saw him.

At the far end of the room, Vance Paughter sat in a leather chair, the top of his head barely visible. He faced the floor-to-ceiling window that stretched across the entire back wall. Above him, an atomic mushroom cloud of cigarette smoke hung suspended―a cloud of doom.

"I see the place is still in one piece, Hans," Vance said without turning.

"Everything is as it should be."

"Sit down and give me a verbal report."

Hans pulled out a chair and when it squeaked, he cringed. Then he sat quickly and opened the laptop that was sitting on the table in front of him.

"Specimen report first."

A smoke ring lifted into the air.

Hans glared at the back of Vance's head.

The man's arrogant demeanor ticked him off. After all, they were partners. Hans deserved some measure of respect. Unquestionably, speaking to the back of Vance's head wasn't his idea of a face-to-face. But he wasn't about to say anything. Vance would find out in due time just how exceptional he had performed.

Hans hid a scowl and tapped the screen, bringing up the latest report. "Specimens are down to three."

"Three? Why the hell so few?"

"W-well, uh…a couple didn't make it. We had to terminate early."

"What about the reserves?"

"The demand has increased the past three months because of our government friends. President Robertson just came on board―with his entire family."

"Goddamn Americans!"

"The good news is that Robertson paid enough to order five more nanomachine assemblers and three cell sorters," Hans said proudly. "But we need more specimens. We're down to two adults and they're already three-quarters depleted."

A detailed report flashed on the monitor and he listed off the statistics. Then he revealed his personal pride and joy.

"Pregnancies total eighteen, with five near their due dates. Four are mine. We have three babies―"

"Young specimens!"

Smoke erupted above Vance's head.

"Yes, young specimens," Hans corrected, grinding his teeth. "They're being processed. Two husks are in the morgue."

Husks. Another one of Vance's fancy terms.

"Good. Bot report?"

Hans wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs. "We had a minor issue with the new nanobots. Some of them malfunctioned and set off the rogue bots. We lost a man in accounting and three lab workers. We're still waiting on an assembler and two cell sorters, compliments of our military."

"And Colonel Mandrusiak?"

"He's been patient―so far. But he'd like to start implementing the rogue bots over in Pakistan. He still plans to use them to infiltrate the water system, wipe out Pakistan completely."

Vance grew silent.

Hans impatiently drummed his fingers on the table.

"What are your plans for our guests? I'd like first dibs on Francesca Baroni."

No answer.

"Vance?"

"Francesca and Del, we can use. And Jake Kerrigan. But the rest? You know what to do with them."

Hans frowned. "I'm not sure it's wise to have them all together. What if they try to escape?"

A snicker erupted from behind the chair.

"If they try, I'll know about it. Won't I?"

Vance rose abruptly from the shadows and turned slowly.

Speechless, Hans stifled a gasp with a quivering hand.

"How do I look?"

Vance wore a ripped Edmonton Oilers t-shirt and jeans that had seen better days. He was younger than Hans―maybe twenty. His smooth face was glowing, youthful. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief, as if he were privy to some private joke.

"You look…young," Hans said, stunned.

He had to give his partner credit.

Vance Paughter was brilliant. He had infiltrated Del's group in the guise of a kid, barely a man. One with an innocence that would never be suspect.

"Meet
Peter Cavanaugh
," Vance said.

Hans couldn't resist a smile. "Nice to meet you…
Peter
."

"Ah, it's great to be home!"

Vance―aka
Peter
―flopped in the chair across from Hans.

Clasping his hands behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling, reminiscing.

"I was Del's protégé for the past year. Even faked a crush to get close to her. And of course I was one of the first to volunteer to help her look for
Daddy
."

"I thought you were going to stop her from coming here."

Vance shrugged. "I tried to sabotage things in the beginning. I got rid of a canoe, stole Del's pills, gave her unfiltered water. But then the Director made me change my mind."

"Why?"

"Two reasons, I suppose. The Director realized Del would be more useful here. And we'd get Jake Kerrigan."

Hans gave him a blank look.

"You read the article we found, Hans. Jake is very close to completing Lawrence's research. If we can't get Lawrence to tell us where the file is, at least we'll have Jake."

"You were right, Vance. You said Schroeder would head straight for his daughter."

Vance let out a dissatisfied sigh. "Yeah, but I wasn't expecting him to barge in while she was tutoring me. For a second I thought he recognized me. Thank God he only had eyes for Del."

"And now we have something to hold over Hawthorne's head."

"Exactly. How is he, anyway?"

Vance took a moment to study Hans while he waited for the man to answer. What he saw made him furious. It was obvious where their supply had gone.

"The doctor is still his stubborn, old―"

"Hans?"
Vance murmured, his voice deadly quiet. "You've been dipping into the sauce."

Speechless, the pasty-faced man across from him flinched.