Someone is shouting.
A mixture of garbled words and rising voices cut through the thick cement floors separating the bottom and first floor. They rose higher, gaining traction before dropping again. Exhausted, I sag against the double vanity in the bathroom, groaning as I shove an arm through one of Chris' white t-shirts.
A pair of grey sweatpants hang on my hips, clinging to me only by the power of the drawstring forcefully tied to keep them up. His shoes, a few sizes too big, swallow my feet. My toes peek out of the slides, flashing a sparkling cobalt blue.
I don't want to leave this bedroom and venture downstairs, but something is wrong. Chris wouldn't elaborate when he directed Charlie away from me. I'm not sure if I'm more disappointed about not knowing what's going on or not being fucked.
It should be the former, but it's more likely the latter.
Squaring my shoulders, I leave the quiet of the upstairs main bedroom and take the wide white marble steps two at a time. The voices rise again, carrying so clearly I can identify Charlie's baritone shouts and Chris' low, calming tone. Two other people are in the room.
Both male and by the way they're speaking, law enforcement. A frown pulls at my lips and I fight hard to keep it away. I make it my business to make sure the cops don't make my business theirs.
Whatever this is, it's not good.
"You've got to be kidding! Are you seriously asking if I had anything to do with an attack on Blue's life?" Charlie rages as I round the corner. "I'd give my life for hers! I'd never do anything to harm her."
"That's yet to be seen, Hendrix." A familiar voice responds, sending tickles down my spine. Could it be...? How had he found us? "Do you have any idea why this is happening and how if neither of you are involved?"
"How do we know you aren't involved?" Charlie threw back. "You were there! You could've sent those assholes after us and we'd be none the wiser. There's still the question of why a DEA agent was snowboarding the mountains."
"Jason? Wha—how are you here?"
He swings around as I move toward Chris, a smile lighting up his face. It doesn't reach his eyes. They're haunted—hunted—as though he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"Doctor Hawthorne," he greets me, stepping backward and closer to the man accompanying him, "I'm glad you're alive and well. I was beginning to worry."
His coldness stings and I can't explain why. I barely know him. Wanting him close for no other reason than to spend my days hearing his deep voice and listening to his rich laughter is a dangerous thing.
All of this was dangerous. He shouldn't be here. Jason should be on the other side of the planet and far away from us. Specifically, far away from me.
Until we figured out who came after us in the mountains, anyone in association with us for too long could be a target. Iris was still searching, but she'd come up with nothing from the facial recognition software. It's almost like those people didn't exist.
Whoever they worked for had scrubbed their existence from every database I could access. But, I refuse to give up. I will protect my family—my men—no matter the cost.
"Why would you worry?" I ask, baiting him. Someone needs to explain his presence and his connections. "I'm just some woman you met on the slopes."
Hurt flashes across his face so quickly, I nearly miss it. I'm sad to see it go as his face smoothes out into an expressionless mask. After spending time with him, and experiencing how animated he is, it's a painful twist in my stomach when it surfaces.
I'd hoped we would never have to hide from each other. Sadly, I'm the only person who'd been in true form. He was a cop and I let him get close. I let him into our world.
"Yes. They were attached to you like a shadow at the ski resort."
"And?"
"And I've been here for over an hour, but I haven't seen you. There were over a dozen bodies in your mansions, plus the fire damage and the shell casings we found." For a moment, the man beneath peeks out, bringing fear and sadness to the forefront of his gaze. "Someone wants to hurt you and I feared they had."
"It would take more men than that to touch, Blue," Charlie spits. "Believe us. We'd never let anyone hurt her if we could stop it."
Confused, I tilt my head and study him. "You know what happened in the mountains? How?"
"Of course. It's everywhere. To be perfectly honest, I'm surprised it hasn't hit the news networks."
I kept it off the airwaves. There is no way to prevent information from slipping out, but Iris has done a fine job of ensuring any videos or mentions of the event are removed from the internet and what people call the 'dark web.' It's closer than most realize, and it houses a haven for those with dark desires and big wallets.
I don't want anyone catching wind of what went down and exploiting it. No one is going to make a dime off of me or my men. I'll scour the internet until the end of days to keep them anonymous.
"Not everything makes the main news stations. We're simply a few people who were unfortunately targeted by a group of deranged individuals. Nothing more, nothing less."
Lie. That's all I could do.
Jason's eyes flicker up, rising to stare over my head at Chris and Charlie. Steeling my spine, I face forward and refuse to turn. I'll sell the lie—for now—and worry about the fallout later.
"I'm sure there's more to it than that. Right, guys?" Jason's tone changes as he asks, edging on mocking. "Or am I to believe neither one of you knows who attacked the house and could have killed Blue? Where's the third guy? What was his name—ah, yeah—Michael?"
"He's unavailable," Chris mutters. "Would you like to leave your card for him to contact you when he's ready?"
Jason's relentless. "Unavailable? What's keeping him from being here? Is he unconscious? Critically injured? Dead?"
While he speaks, my eyes drift down his frame. He's as tall and broad as memory serves, with muscles I want to trace with my tongue. His black t-shirt and dark jeans are matched to big, black combat boots. Jason doesn't look like a cop, but the badge hanging from his belt makes my stomach turn.
"You're with the alphabet soup?"
His face scrunches. "Alphabet soup?"
"Yes. The overreaching agencies that are supposed to protect everyone... you know, the handful of known acronym carrying organizations who hire people to carry badges and mete out justice."
His face shutters. "We aren't bad people, Blue."
"I never said you were," I shake my head, "but it's incredible how you reached that conclusion all on your own. Must be tiring—jumping through all those open windows of assumptions."
I ignore him, sizing up the second male standing near his left.
He's lanky, with dark hair and full pink lips. Thick eyebrows slash across his forehead, a foreboding image above his piercing dark eyes and straight nose. Despite his narrow frame, he appears strong and unafraid.
The unnamed DEA agent meets my gaze, unfazed. There's an infuriating taunt to the smirk on his lips and his stance is cavalier, a sure sign he knows something I don't. It sets my teeth on edge and sends my senses on high alert.
"Who's the other badge invading my home?"
Jason's mouth opens and shuts a few times. "This is Kellan Carnegie. He's a part of my team."
"Nice to meet you, ma'am." He says with a respectful nod in my direction. A distinct drawl curls through his words, slowing them into a sultry invitation I have no intention of answering.
"I'd say the same, but you're in my house uninvited."
"They invited us in," he motions to Chris and Charlie.
"Didn't you hear me, Carnegie?" I ask. "I said my house. They don't own any of my shit and have no right to invite anyone into my house, certainly not a pair of federal agents who have clearly lost their way."
"Now, hold on, Blue," Jason interrupts, "we didn't wander in here. We know what happened and we know wh—"
"Save it for someone else, Jason, and get the hell out of my house." When he doesn't move, I raise an eyebrow. "Did I stutter or are you hard of hearing?"
His teeth snap together audibly. "I heard you loud and clue, Blue. You want me to leave. What I don't understand is why you're angry with me?"
When I open my mouth to answer, a beacon cuts across my vision. The blue lettering flashes in quick succession, alternating colors and fonts. Still, the message is clear.
SUBJECT'S AUGMENTATION IS COMPLETE.
"Go, Blue." Chris urges. "We'll take care of Jason and Kellan."
"You mean escorting them out, right?" I still haven't turned to face him or Charlie.
A breath wheezes out of his chest, and I feel the shift of his emotions through the link. He's watching me closely, analyzing my tone, body language and linguistics. I give nothing away.
My posture is open, and my tone is light. There is some hostility in my bitter welcoming of Jason, but it's to be expected with the appearance of law enforcement when we're on an island far from the mainland. He's sure he'll hear an earful later and I won't disappoint.
Jason clocks the change between us, visibly stiffening. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about."
I'm surprised to hear Charlie's voice after so long. He'd fallen silent almost as soon as he realized I was in the room. Later, when I'd checked out Michael, he and I would speak about this.
"Have a nice evening, gentlemen." I nod to the pair of DEA agents. "Please do let the door hit you on the way out."
As I pass through the arched doorway, Jason calls after me. "I'll be seeing you soon, Blue. You can count on it."
Grudgingly, I hold my tongue and continue to the lab. Michael is waiting for me, slowly leaving the suspended animation of anesthesia to join the waking world with a newly improved body. His stats are better than I hoped.
At each iteration, the augmentation improves. Hopefully, it'll be painless. Until then, we'd be spending the next handful of weeks doing motor tests, building muscle mass and charging him up on needed vitamins, minerals and electrolytes. We eat four times more than most people, and we're always hungry.
And not always for food.
Michael's body sprawls across the floating gurney in the center of my lab. The operating arms slide upward, disappearing into the ceiling with a faint whisper. Blue light flutters from beneath the metal cradling his handsome form.
Lines crisscross his pale skin, lining where cuts were made to expose his muscles, skeleton and organs for augmentation. A quick shower will remove them, and he'll be left with faint scars along his limbs for a day or two. Then, they'll fade away.
As I move closer to his left and my shadow falls over his face, his eyes snap open. Eyes as green as moss slowly clear from the medical haze, taking me in with new, stronger senses. Before I can speak, he's up and standing.
Surprised, I shrink back, scrambling almost 14 steps. Michael silently follows. The man who looked upon me kindly for the last few weeks and in its place is an emotion I'd never thought I'd see in his in eyes: lust.
"M—Michael," I stutter, "it's okay. You're safe. Someone shot you and I had to make a terrible choice."
He sucks his teeth and points to his head. "I can feel you here."
"Yeah," I hazard a nervous smile, "we're all connected."
"Connected?" He parrots. "Explain."
"Like a server."
His confusion gives me enough time to scramble around him. "I can show you."
"How?"
"In the server room," I say, carefully backing out of the lab and heading west. I need to check the towers, anyway. Luckily, Michael's vitals hold strong and his dexterity has only improved with more motion. "Follow me."
He's a smooth predator in the halls. No sound echoes from his assured footfalls. Anxiety bunches inside of me the closer we get to the server room.
There are no winds here, and no one will hear me scream if something happens. I turn to walk the other way, but stumble when I find Michael is two steps behind me. He blocks my retreat, preventing me from sprinting to Chris or Charlie.
It's not fear in my heart. It's not fear making me wet and making my legs tremble. The way Michael's gaze scorches through me... I can barely breathe.
"This is the server room," I say, opening the door and walking inside.
"And this is where we're connected?"
Swallowing, I nod and hurry deeper into the room. At each tower, I bend over to check the connections and run a diagnostic. It's cold to keep the towers from overheating, and it makes my nipples poke out of the thin shirt I'm wearing.
I should have changed.
I'm halfway into the room when Michael corners me against a tower and undoes the drawstring holding Chris' pants to my waist. The grip he has on my arm intensifies and his nostrils flare.
"You're not wearing any underwear?"
"No." Charlie destroyed them and I didn't want to waste time trekking back to my room.
"Good."