Legend of Michael Page 11

  Cassandra barely contained a gasp. Dead. Adam wanted her dead.

  “Are you fucking insane?” Brock demanded. “She is the only thing, besides himself, that Powell gives a shit about. If she dies, he’ll go nuts. He’ll put his guard up—and I’ll never get to Red Dart before it’s too late.”

  “Not if it looks like an accident,” Lucian said. “And while he grieves, for a brief time his guard will come down. Use the opportunity to get me Red Dart.”

  “I want to talk to Adam,” Brock demanded.

  Lucian and the other two Zodius soldiers laughed. “Adam does not talk to humans,” Lucian said, amused.

  “I wouldn’t be human if you gave me the damn serum.”

  “Earn it,” Lucian said. “Get us Red Dart.”

  “Powell wants me to romance his daughter,” he said. “He’s grooming me to be his son-in-law. His right-hand man. This is bigger than Red Dart. We’ll know every move the government is making.”

  “We don’t need to know what they are doing,” he said. “We’ll have Red Dart to control humans. We simply need the Renegades out of the way.” Lucian’s laugh filtered through the air, low and deep. “Besides, in six months you haven’t gotten into that bitch’s pants. I’m not placing any bets on you now. We already know she’s susceptible to Michael’s influences. She’s a liability. You want the serum. To be one of us, you will kill her.”

  Cassandra had heard enough. She could barely breathe. She started to back away, realizing that being caught was a death sentence. A twig broke. She froze as she felt their attention shift in her direction. Her mind raced. She hadn’t been seen yet, and she didn’t want to be. She contemplated backing up slowly or simply charging to safety, to heck with noise—and the need to run won out. She sprang into action, straining with every stretch of her muscles to get around the corner of the building to the more public forum.

  A motorcycle screamed in her ears as she rounded the corner, the headlights streaming in her face, blinding her. A second later she was swept off her feet as a powerful arm wrapped around her waist. Warmth washed over her, and a sense of security that defied the precarious way her feet dangled above the street. Michael. Suddenly, the questions and accusations about his motives didn’t matter. He was here. That was all that mattered. And she had a chance to survive this night.

  Chapter 9

  The two Zodius soldiers traveling with Lucian faded into the wind, leaving Brock with only one Zodius to beat his ass. Anger flashed in Lucian’s eyes a moment before Brock was slammed against his rental car, the air walloped from his chest as his back hit metal. Brock flinched at the pain along his spine and vowed the day he was finally a GTECH he would kill Lucian. Rip him apart limb by limb. Oh, how he would enjoy every minute of that blood bath. And he would be a GTECH. He’d played his cards too well. Either Adam or Powell would give him that serum.

  “You stupid sonofabitch!” thundered Lucian. “You were followed!” He glared at him suspiciously. “Or did you tell Powell you were meeting me? I swear to you, Brock, if I find out you’re working both sides, I will rip you apart piece by piece.”

  “If anyone was followed,” Brock grunted back fiercely enough to defy the truth of the accusation, “it was you. I wouldn’t even be here if you’d left me the fuck alone. As of last night, you have the Green Hornet bullets. Those bullets are golden. They’re the only bullets that can penetrate the Renegades’ body armor and take them down, until you can use Red Dart on them. That is your proof of my loyalty, and it should be all you need.”

  “Once I test the bullets and they prove effective,” he said, “perhaps it will.”

  “Damn it, Lucian,” he ground out. “Those bullets are meant to be used with Red Dart. Use them to wound the Renegades. Tag them with Red Dart and capture them. Don’t use the damn things until we have Red Dart. I’m the only person who could give them to you besides Powell. He’ll know I betrayed him.”

  “Maybe that is what I hope for,” he growled.

  Sorry P.O.S. was trying to mess with his head, and it wasn’t going to work. “Let me do my job, Lucian. And that job includes fucking Cassandra Powell, not killing her.”

  Lucian snarled. “The only person getting fucked is you if you’ve exposed our plans to Powell. Adam doesn’t just want Red Dart out of Powell’s hands, he plans to use it to gain control of the Renegades and force his brother to join him. You have no idea how pissed he will be if you screw that up. So I suggest you get me that Red Dart crystal with the GTECH method of application. That’s the only way you can prove your loyalty. And turn the lights out on Cassandra Powell before I snap your delicate little human neck.” The wind whistled around them a moment before Lucian disappeared.

  Brock balled his fist and jerked his sore body off the hood, punching at the air. Damn it to hell, this was ending, and it was ending now. He had come too far from the shit hole, Chicago public housing where his father beat the crap out of him every day to allow Lucian or anyone else to use him as a whipping dog.

  The writing was on the wall—GTECH was the future. He wanted to be that future. And he would not be played a fool by either Powell or Adam to get there. Powell had promised that Brock would lead a new generation of GTECHs. Stronger. Faster. Able to capture and control those GTECHs already in existence. He’d find a way around Red Dart once he controlled all the other GTECHs. The most important thing was being the one at the top of the food chain.

  He charged toward his vehicle, already removing his cell from his belt to call Powell. If the information he had to share tonight didn’t convince Powell to step up the pace and give Brock the new, improved, GTECH serum that PMI had been working on, then nothing would. And then, Brock would know Powell did not deserve his loyalty, though he wasn’t keen on being one of Adam’s followers. But that would be better than remaining human. And following Adam would mean Powell’s baby girl was going down. A little detail he’d keep to himself, of course, since he’d be Cassandra’s assassin if need be.

  Brock punched the autodial.

  ***

  After turning in early Powell woke from a dead sleep at the sound of his cell phone ringing. He grabbed it from the nightstand and irritably eyed the caller ID before punching the answer key. “This better be good, West.”

  “Michael has left Zodius,” he said. “He’s now with the Renegades.”

  Powell sat up, instantly alert. Michael. The fucking bane of his existence. It was bad enough that someone in the White House had leaked Red Dart to the Zodius. Now, the Renegades would know as well. And now, if Michael was involved, Cassandra would be in danger. No one was supposed to know about Red Dart until this was over with control back in his grasp.

  “What exactly happened, West?” he demanded impatiently.

  “Lucian demanded a meeting. Adam intends to use Red Dart to force the Renegades to join him. He also believes Michael is using your daughter to find it and destroy it before that can happen.”

  “That’s insanity,” Powell blasted through the phone. “My daughter is not helping Michael. Damn it to hell, West! The man tried to kill me. And the very fact that Caleb could trust Michael, an X2 positive that had been with the Zodius for two years, proves my point. All GTECHs must be controlled. We can’t trust any of them.”

  “I agree, sir,” West said. “Give me the serum, General. I’m ready to fight. I’ll force the GTECHs back under your command.”

  Powell could practically hear the man salivating over the serum that few knew he still possessed. The government was afraid of the serum, afraid it would make more Adams. They wouldn’t be afraid after they saw the results of Red Dart in action. But then, most humans were afraid; he was not most humans. And he could not wait until they got over their fear; he had to make more soldiers and properly protect this country.

  “There are risks, Lieutenant Colonel West.” Like death.

  “Soldiers take risks, sir.”

  That was enough for Powell. He wanted to take risks—Powell would let him. “Ge
t my daughter home safely, and we’ll talk.” Powell walked to the corner bar of his bedroom, poured a glass of bourbon, and sipped the amber liquid. “Put a surveillance team on my daughter,” he said. “Make sure they are equipped to put down a GTECH. Michael Taylor is to be killed on sight.” Powell wasn’t going to allow Michael to use his daughter to get to him again. No one made a fool out of him and lived to brag about it. He ended the call and dialed yet another.

  “Hello,” came the smoky female voice that never failed to rocket heat through his loins. Jocelyn. One of the most knowledgeable weapons experts on this planet, and the woman who’d made both the Green Hornets and Red Dart possible.

  His attraction to her was an unexpected complication that drugged him further upon each contact. He’d involved her for her resources and for the pain she could cause his enemies—a shared vengeance for one enemy in particular. Michael. She had a history with him as treacherous as his own. And a desire to see him pay.

  Their shared desire to make Michael suffer had turned decidedly erotic, an aspect of their relationship untouched thus far, though that might soon change. He liked her as she was—angry and bitter, yet feminine. He saw no reason to tell her of Michael’s shift to the Renegades. No need to risk her falsely seeing him as rehabilitated. She was, after all, a woman, and generally weak, unwilling to take certain risks. Unlike Chin, who didn’t mind a fatality or two or three for the greater good.

  Exactly why she was not involved in Chin’s work. “We’re ready to test Red Dart on a GTECH.”

  An excited squeal filled the line. This work was her pride and joy. And as such, she refused, despite his prodding, to hand it over until she could test it herself, though she’d granted him demonstrations.

  “How wonderful,” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe this is finally happening. Chin told me it would be weeks before the soldiers were ready for Red Dart. When?”

  “Tomorrow night,” he said. “But I don’t want the lab’s location disclosed. Sedation will be required prior to the subject’s transport to the facility.”

  “Of course,” she purred softly. “Whatever is necessary. This is too important to take unnecessary risks.”

  Unnecessary risks. Yes. Exactly. She simply wouldn’t understand the necessary ones. So he focused on what they both would understand. “You’re certain it will work? You’ve found the right tranquilizer mixture to stun their immune system?”

  “I can never be certain in the lab without a perfect test subject,” she said. “But I’m as certain as I can be.”

  His lips thinned. “That is not the answer I want to hear.”

  She laughed, soft, silky. “You’re very demanding,” she chided. “It’s going to work, General.”

  A smile touched his lips, relief easing the tightness in his chest. “We’re going to save the world, Jocelyn. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “Oh yes,” she said. “I know. And I can’t wait to celebrate.” There was a seductive promise in the words that tightened his groin. She aroused him, but not nearly as much as the power that would soon be his as the greatest general who’d ever lived. Never again would another country dare strike against America. The GTECHs were like the ultimate nuclear bomb waiting to explode. And he alone would hold the remote. It was absolutely fucking beautiful.

  ***

  Skidding the motorcycle around a corner and to a halt behind a cluster of trees, Michael killed the engine to buy time and set Cassandra down on the pavement. He didn’t dare take her all the way to her car for fear she’d be spotted before he could distract the Zodius soldiers who followed them. The Zodius would scout before attacking and evaluate their prey as human or GTECH, which bought him about three minutes max.

  Flipping open his helmet, he growled, “Damn it, I told you to be careful. This is not careful.”

  “You also said trust no one, and I don’t,” she countered. “Not even you.”

  Anger coiled in his gut. “In case you didn’t notice, sweetheart, I’m the guy saving your sweet little ass.”

  “Guess you still need something from me,” she shot back sharply.

  He ground his teeth against that remark, reaching for the Wesson strapped to his leg and handing it to her. It wouldn’t do her much good, but knowing she had it made him feel better.

  “Between the eyes or don’t bother. They wear body armor now, since your father started popping them with tranquilizers for Lord only knows what purpose.”

  “Trying to keep from killing them,” she countered, palming the weapon. “He doesn’t want to kill them or torture them.”

  Right. Michael was buying that about as readily as he was Cassandra ever trusting him again, but now wasn’t the time for arguments.

  He watched her do a quick inspection of the weapon, taking comfort in her confident handling of the gun. She’d need that confidence if one of the Zodius confronted her.

  “Go to your room and lock the door, and don’t open it until I get there,” he ordered. The wind’s energy trickled down his spine, a charge he’d come to know as a warning. The Zodius were approaching. “Go now!” he hissed in a whisper. Instantly, Cassandra took off running, a good little soldier following orders, thanks to her father’s mentoring. One of the few good things that man had ever done for her.

  Michael flipped his helmet down and sat behind those bushes, waiting until the wind whispered along his spine with enough intensity to tell him he needed to act. The wind was his weapon, as much a part of him as the blood racing through his veins. It was a living being to him, able to communicate, and under his command at all times. No one wind-walked with Michael nearby unless he allowed them to. Not even Adam and Caleb.

  Unfortunately, using his abilities wasn’t an option. He had to convince them he was human with his helmet giving him the cover of anonymity. Anyone could be following Brock—certainly Powell had a track record of distrust that would support having Brock followed. A façade of humanity also meant they’d want him dead before they’d want him reporting back what they would believe he’d heard in that alley—which had been every damn word, including the part about Cassandra.

  Revving the engine, Michael jerked the bike back into action, his intention to put himself in the path of the Zodius soldiers and give Cassandra time to depart unnoticed, while making them believe he’d been the sole person eavesdropping in those bushes. The two Zodius soldiers were instantly in his path, and he cut to the right toward the grass. They followed quickly on his tail, on foot, but he’d hoped they couldn’t wind-walk without risking exposure in such a public place.

  He hit the curb and took it with a hard thud that sent the wheel and then the bike flying. Instantly, his spine tingled; the two soldiers weren’t being as cautious as he thought. Fuck! They were wind-walking, and though he could stop them, he didn’t dare without giving himself away.

  Michael spread his legs and let the bike go, allowing it to fly forward while he tucked and rolled to the ground. He came down hard on his back into a rock formation that jarred his ribs and muscles. But he didn’t have time for pain. By the time he’d finished the roll, he’d drawn two guns—one with bullets and one with tranquilizer darts.

  The soldiers were charging at him, a foot away at most, and he landed a tranq dart in both their foreheads, but not before one of them got off a silent shot of his own. Pain exploded in Michael’s rib cage as the enemy’s bullet penetrated what should have been his impermeable body armor.

  The two soldiers stumbled and fell, giving him no more than a minute before their GTECH metabolism had them on their feet again. Ignoring his injury, Michael ground his teeth against the pain and kicked to his feet, feeling damn cranky and ready to get this over with. Sweat trickled down his brow, under the helmet, blood already matted to his T-shirt. He managed a quick sweep of the area even as he took aim at one of his targets. He’d noted no obvious witness, but he really didn’t give a crap if there was one. Let any witness and the dead bodies be Lucian’s problem.

  Ruthl
essly, he put a bullet into both their heads right between the eyes. He didn’t recognize either one of them, but that was no surprise. Adam’s scientists had assured him they could reproduce the serum with Adam’s blood, and hungry to grow his population of followers, he’d handed out the injections he’d confiscated from Powell’s stock like it was candy. That was, until he found out his scientists were wrong—they couldn’t duplicate the serum with his blood.

  “You really shouldn’t have pissed me off,” he murmured at the dead soldiers, feeling no remorse for killing them. He was a soldier and a trained killer; it was all he had been his entire adult life. He did what others wouldn’t and couldn’t do, because somebody had to do it. And he didn’t know how to be anything but those things—not even for Cassandra.

  Michael purposely left the tranquilizer darts behind. The army used the darts to slow the Zodius soldiers down enough to get a fatal shot off, which was exactly why Michael had used them. To stay off Adam’s radar as much as possible until he had Cassandra and the Red Dart crystal secure. Michael called the wind, fading into it as mist did into rain. His injury would soon force him to sleep in order to heal or risk collapsing. He had to get to Cassandra before he lost too much blood to protect her.

  ***

  “Sonofabitch!” Lucian cursed, towering over the bodies of his dead soldiers, grimacing at the sight of the trademark army tranquilizer darts stuck in their foreheads right next to the bullet holes. Powell’s army. Which meant Powell now knew Brock was working with the Zodius. Lucian’s Red Dart connection was gone. He balled his fists, punching at the air in pure fury.

  Sirens sounded in the near distance. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The last thing he needed now was more humans. He grabbed his phone and called for a cleanup team the Zodius kept in hot pockets of activity, ending the call with a frown as his gaze caught on some blood several feet from the bodies. He walked to it and squatted, touching it, using his rare “tracker” ability to read the metaphysical energy that certain living organisms produced.