“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 THROUGHthe 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...whateverthiswas. 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 beanotherway, one that had nothing to do withhim.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 alonein 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 hewasher 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 betoday. 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?”
