Telepathic Cravings Page 18

  Nolete swallowed the fear that tightened her throat and closed her eyes. The metal lab table was cold against her bare back. She lay, strapped and naked, but it was nothing new. Without looking, she was positive goose bumps rose on her skin. Since she’d been detained several weeks earlier, she’d lost count of the number of times she had been in this position.

  She shifted her weight, trying to ease the numbness in her ass. How long had she lain here? Lord only knew. Flexing her fingers and wiggling her toes, she tried to keep the blood pumping into her hands and feet. The wrist and ankle straps constricted blood flow. She had to do something to keep her mind busy, so she counted back trying to figure out what time it was. The windowless lab had no clock, just a sink, some antibacterial cream and a closet.

  She shivered and opened her eyes. Damn. She didn’t know if she could take another round of their “experiments.” The skills she’d tried to hide for so many years had been tested and prodded, pushed to the limit. When they first arrested her and brought her here, she’d fought the scientists, and any experiments. But after several weeks of very little food, and more and more time in the lab, she’d broken down. She was beyond the point of caring. She realized she would never make it out alive; they couldn’t have that. If the public at large found out about the experiments, there would be investigations. And, if that happened, the Center would lose their Federation funding. If they knew about the electroshock or the drugs, the public outcry would ruin their pampered lives here.

  As she tried to move her mind away from those memories, she thought of her life before her arrest. Before Drake had turned on her and handed her over to some of the sickest people on the planet. Sharp pain twisted in her stomach and her heart ached. Her eyes filled with tears. She’d never believed he’d been the one to do it, but she’d learned the hard way. If she ever made it out of quarantine alive, which she doubted, she would never trust another human being again.

  She licked dry lips and tried to swallow. Concentrating on the doorknob, Nolete tried using her mind to move it. Nothing. Sighing with frustration, she closed her eyes again. There was something missing in her. Panic clawed at her throat. Even as a child she’d had those other senses, but now, now she was like a blind woman, feeling around in an unfamiliar room.

  The door slid open and then closed.

  “Well, Ms. Ashford.” Doctor Killigan’s smooth oily voice sent a chill down her spine. “I see that you are ready for another round.”

  She didn’t respond, didn’t open her eyes. Killigan liked it when she fought him. Nolete was convinced the jackass got off on it.

  “Telling Edwards you lost your ability to move things. Did you think that would help?” He tsked, his voice mocking her, but Nolete refused to give in. If there was one thing she had left, it was her resistance to his baiting. They would do what they wanted, but she didn’t have to make it easier for them.

  The door to the closet opened and closed and she fought the urge to open her eyes to see what he had chosen for today.

  “I have never understood why you paras think this is a bad thing. If we can figure out everything there is to know about you, there could be something which could make you stronger.”

  She listened intently, waiting for the hum of the electromachine to kick in. It was Killigan’s favorite. The only sound she heard was metal against metal. Fear slithered through her at what was coming next. A moment later, the prick of a needle bit into her arm.

  He massaged her arm, helping the drug to spread. “Now, let’s see what happens with this one.”

  Chapter 1

  Nolete walked through the halls of what ten years ago had been her nightmare. She shivered as she fought the memories of those days, weeks, months—she had no idea how long she’d been imprisoned.

  She could still hear the screams and the crying. It haunted her to this day. If she hadn’t lost her abilities, she might still be there. Once Killigan realized she hadn’t been lying, he’d ordered her released instead of killed. She reached the door to Killigan’s favorite lab. The same sickening panic curled in her stomach.

  “Agent Ashford?”

  She turned to find Marcus Carlyle standing at the end of the hallway with an understanding smile curving his lips. Dressed in his customary expensive suit, silk shirt and tie, Marcus intimidated a lot of people. She’d always felt comfortable around him.

  “Do you know what happened to Killigan, Mr. Carlyle?”

  He shook his head. “No. Killigan disappeared with a lot of files and drugs right before the arrests.”

  “He’s the one you want.” He nodded in understanding. “I just don’t know why it was allowed to go on for so long.”

  “People were afraid. Johnson scared them.”

  “So, let’s punish the ones left behind. And their children.” She couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice. Tears gathered in her eyes, and she turned away. Her parents had died before she’d turned a year old, and the pain of being alone, of having no one to go to when she finally was released, still throbbed. She didn’t want her supervisor to see her weakness, to know it still affected her.

  “Agent Ashford—Nolete—I know this will be hard for you, but I feel, as does Shana, you’re the best person for the job. You can ferret out the culprit.”

  The considerate tone in his voice embarrassed her and got under her skin. She couldn’t handle kindness. Not anymore. “I know who the head of this mess is.”

  “Johnson.”

  She glanced back at him, knowing Ripley Johnson had been implicated in the two terrorist attacks that year, both of which had affected Marcus’ new wife and her brother.

  “Yes. He’s behind it, but this trash on the street, Killigan’s in charge.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The worst of the memories washed over her. Her stomach roiled. She drew in a deep breath and swallowed the bile clogging her throat. The drug tests were far worse than any of the other experiments.

  “Positive. The tests he was doing here were leading somewhere. Part of it was because he was a sadistic bastard, but the rest was because he was striving to develop a drug to be used on paras. I’m sure of it. That being said, Killigan might be working for Johnson. Now that we know he’s still alive, it might be something to look for.”

  “We are. And we want to bring in a scientist to help you.”

  Immediately every muscle in her body stiffened. “Why?”

  “You need help with the compounds that make up the drug. If you know what they need to make it, you can narrow your search.”

  She nodded, knowing there was no argument—no rational argument—against it. It didn’t stop the chill that slithered down her spine. Working with whomever they found to help would be far better than dragging out the investigation. She knew that. No matter how many times she told herself she was over the memories, the mind-numbing fear still crept into her dreams at night. She shuddered, willing away the memories, the panic that always sickened her.

  With the help of Carlyle and a few others, the public opinion about paras was changing. If news got out about the drug now hitting the streets, all could be lost. It was time the Federation faced the past. They needed to know what went on in the name of security. But she damn sure wouldn’t trust another scientist.

  “We need to head back so I can arrange meetings with a few of the candidates.”

  She nodded. “Not anyone…”

  “No. No one who ever worked here. In fact, several of them have been off Earth researching for the last ten to fifteen years. All of them specialize in chemistry.”

  Carlyle began to walk back down the hallway, and Nolete turned to follow him. Something kept her from completing the action. She returned her gaze to the lab door. A chill sank into her bones, but she ignored it. If she didn’t get past this irrational fear, she would never catch Killigan. She had to face the demons, particularly the one who slipped into her dreams, disturbing her sleep, her psyche. With determination, she stepped forward and opened t
he door.

  * * * *

  Drake Conners watched with amusement as David Adams ran from the room, in search of a bathroom. He bit back the laughter because kicking another male while he was down just wasn’t right. Genoa, David’s wife, wasn’t helping though. She was laughing hysterically.

  “Genoa, that’s not very nice.” He crossed his arms and gave her a stern look.

  She laughed harder. “Oh, please. He deserves it. It’s his fault I’m in this condition. And here I thought all he could feel was my emotions, not sympathy morning sickness.” She rubbed her rounded belly. “I should’ve listened to you when you told me that I could get pregnant.”

  “You shouldn’t laugh at him.”

  She wrinkled her nose and wandered around his living area, her full, purple skirts swishing with every step. He knew she was trying to pretend they had just popped back to Earth for a visit, when she was seven months pregnant, just to say hello to him.

  “Genoa, tell me what you want.” He couldn’t help the irritation threading his voice.

  She turned and stared at him, her eyes widened innocently. “What do you mean?”

  “He means he’s not an idiot,” David said, as he returned from the bathroom, his face washed of most of its color. “Go ahead. It’s your idea.”

  She humphed and crossed her arms, staring daggers at her husband. “Why don’t we sit down?” Then she turned to Drake, her lips curving into a smile. Most men melted at the sight, but Drake knew her too well. That sensuous look and her quick mind had made her one of the Federation’s best spies up until her marriage to David. She was a master manipulator. “Genoa, just spit it out.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she placed a hand on each hip. “Marcus wants you to help with an investigation.”

  Irritation turned into confusion. “An investigation? I have no skills that would help with that.”

  “Yes you do.”

  “Genoa—”

  “Hold on a minute here.” David stepped between them, shaking his head. “Let me give you some background into what is going on. All of this is classified, of course.”

  Drake nodded. “Of course.”

  “Seems there’s a new drug on the street.”

  “Nothing new in that. There is always something new to entice the drug addicts.”

  “This one is worse, Drake.” The smile faded from Genoa’s face and voice.

  “Worse? How?”

  David sighed. “It’s aimed toward paras.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, from what Marcus tells me, it increases their abilities and their strength while they’re high. It’s very addictive.”

  His mind jumped from one thing to the next, trying to take in everything they were telling him. “Do they know what the basic components are?”

  “Not sure. And that’s where you come in. The lead investigator and Marcus both believe if we can figure out what it’s made of, they can narrow their search. It apparently is very much like PCP from the twentieth.”

  “The media doesn’t know?”

  David shook his head. “No. If the public knew, it would be disastrous. Especially for my family.”

  The implications were horrifying. Drake knew David and his sister Shana were paras. He also knew Shana and Marcus’ little girl and David and Genoa’s baby would be affected. Thanks to some hard work within the Federation, the public perception was turning. The labs had been shut down, and paras were gaining new acceptance. They still had a long way to go, even with the government reversing their position. If this information was leaked, it might destroy everything they had worked to overcome. Something like this could set them back years.

  He looked at Genoa, his best friend and confidant. Her eyes pleaded with him for help. Even though he knew what she was doing, he was helpless to deny her. He sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You won’t regret this.” Genoa avoided making eye contact with him when she said it.

  Drake knew she was up to something else, but he ignored the feeling and decided to concentrate on his mission. God help him if he failed.

  * * * *

  Nolete looked back over the report covering the growing number of overdoses from Dream Weaver. That’s what they were calling Denoral, the name the Federation had given the drug. The tension gathered in her forehead. She massaged her temples trying to ease it.

  It didn’t help. A cold chill settled in her belly. They weren’t making progress. Worse, there had been rumors in the press about a new drug. The particulars hadn’t hit the programs yet. If it did…

  She sighed and moved away from those thoughts. Keeping positive, working her ass off, that was important. She picked up the report and read over it, hoping something would jump out at her. If they could figure where it was coming from, they could close in on Killigan.

  The hair at the nape of her neck stirred, and a flash of thought, not her own, streaked through her mind. Something sexual, hot, smoldering. Her body reacted immediately as a flush of heat spiraled through her. It had happened only once since her release from quarantine.

  She looked up and her pulse skipped a beat. Drake Conners leaned against the doorjamb. He wore his usual khaki pants, scuffed shoes and a blue shirt. His shaggy hair needed a good trim, and his clothes looked in need of a good pressing. He looked as beautiful as he had several months ago. Damn him.

  “Hello, Letty.”

  Chapter 2

  “Don’t call me by that name,” Letty said. A thread of anger deepened her voice. It skimmed along Drake’s nerve endings and sank under his skin. Years ago, he’d loved to tease her until she’d gotten so mad at him, her voice took on that icy edge, with a hint of heat beneath it. It usually signaled the beginning of the end of their fight. The end of it always worked itself out in bed. But…there was something different, something which struck him as odd. It took him a moment to realize there was a hint of vulnerability beneath the steel. The color had seeped from her face; her hands fisted on her desk.

  Drake stared at her and wondered why the name had slipped out. Well, he knew why. He’d been standing here watching her for a few minutes, her head bent over her desk, the weak winter sunlight filtering through her dark hair, bringing out the golden highlights. So many memories, ones he had told himself he had to ignore, blazed across his mind, across his heart. And with those thoughts, with those feelings burning a hole in his chest, it was the only name he could think of. She had always been his Letty. From the moment he met her, he’d known she would be his. The memory of sinking into her as both of them lost their virginity was as vivid as if it had just happened the day before. The familiar hum of desire he felt whenever she was near, rushed through him.

  “Okay. What are you working on there, Nolete?” The name was foreign to him. Just as the woman before him was. Cold and distant, this woman was a stranger, nothing like Letty had been at seventeen—open and so sure of her love for him.

  “Just an investigation.” She studied him as if he were an experiment gone wrong. “What do you want?”

  “Would it have to do with Dream Weaver?”

  He sensed her muscles tensing. Her green eyes darkened with distrust and she swallowed. “What do you know about that?”

  He stepped into her office and nodded to the door. “Nolete Ashford, authorize lockdown.”

  The door slid closed behind him and he realized the office was smaller than he first thought. As he walked to her desk, she stood, with her chin tilted up defiantly. The black uniform fit snugly over her breasts and hugged her hips. The familiar zing heated his blood and he cursed inwardly for still reacting to her in this way. But he had known it would be like this. She would always slip beneath his skin.

  “Now, tell me.” Her voice was sharp.

  What the hell had happened to the woman he knew? This creature before him was not Letty. She’d been so full of life and love, so sensuous she’d knocked his socks off. Just the thought of the way she used to glide her hands across his bare skin, h
er lips following the same path, sent blood rushing to his groin.

  Her face colored and she cleared her throat. “What do you know?”

  “Marcus asked me to help you with your investigation.”

  Although the asshole, along with Genoa, had never told him Nolete was heading it up. And Genoa, damn her hide, knew his history with Nolete. It was one of the reasons she’d convinced him to stay on Earth these last few months. But, of course, he’d not done one damn thing about it. He’d avoided her because he had been a coward. Her betrayal still hurt all these years later.

  Drake knew they had only two options. They would either end up at opposite ends of the room, both mad as hell, or they would end up in bed, sated to their toes, but with everything else left unresolved. Staying away from her had saved his heart and his sanity. Because being around her hurt too much if he couldn’t touch her. And if he touched her, they would both regret it…eventually.

  When he’d found her sitting in the office of the Federation Drug Enforcement Agency all the memories had come flowing back, twisting his gut. Damn. Why the hell did it have to be her?

  * * * *

  This had to be some kind of sick joke. There was one person in the world beside Killigan she could never forgive and he stood in front of her, telling her they had to work together.

  “Help me?”

  “Marcus said you wanted a scientist to help. Genoa suggested me.”

  She tried to think clearly. But it was getting harder by the minute. During their conversation, she’d caught glimpses of his thoughts. And the things he was thinking…

  Not good. Not good at all. Because as he was thinking them, she was hearing them. And it should irritate her that he was thinking of doing those things to her. In reality, it only made her hot to think about his hands on her body. Hell, her nipples tightened against her suit and there was that familiar tug in her stomach. And all of the sudden, she felt like they were seventeen and meeting for the first time. Embarrassingly, her hands shook, though she wasn’t sure if it was from anger or nerves.