Darken (Siege #1) (15 page)

“No.”

He might not have been touching her, but Gavin sensed the tension that stiffened Cora’s body.

“It’s obvious you know exactly what Sinclair did,” Gavin said. “So why don’t you just give us the information we’re here for and then we can leave, or I can respond to one of the requests for an interview I’ve received.”

“That would be a violation of the gag order,” she pointed out.

Rather than argue, he stared her down until she pressed her lips tightly together. Her fingernails clicked rapidly against the table then suddenly stopped. From under the clipboard, she pulled out a folder and slid it across to them. “This arrived five days ago.”

“Yet you didn’t contact anyone.”

“The Board determined that since Sinclair was not acting on our behalf, it would be best to keep ourselves removed from the situation. When you contacted us, that was no longer an option.”

Cora opened the file and found a photo of herself staring up at her. Subject 8 was scrawled along the bottom in red ink. With trembling fingers, she flipped it over, then the next page and the next.

Gavin caught enough glimpses of the pages to realize Sinclair had been monitoring Cora for a lot longer than a week. The sliver of control he’d been desperately holding onto snapped.

Tendons stretched and his skin rippled as adrenaline pumped through his body, triggering the unnatural enzymes in his body to kick in. His heart rate accelerated, increasing the supply of oxygen to his bulging muscles and the sleeves of his shirt tore along the seams. He surged forward, stalking toward Nielson. Fear drained her face of all color as she watched the monster break free.

Nielson shoved her chair back, scrambling to raise the gun she’d hidden under the table. She pointed it, not at him, but at Cora. He suppressed the instinct to rush the doctor, knowing she wouldn’t hesitate to kill Cora. Assessing the situation, he realized with Cora present the chances of successfully disarming Nielson wasn’t worth the risk.

“Move back,” she ordered, motioning with the gun and he craned his neck around to look at Cora.

The sight of him changing wasn’t a pretty one. He’d seen his face in this state before. His brow and cheekbones protruded while the muscles along his jaw flexed then hardened, broadening his face.

Cora’s eyes widened as she witnessed for the first time the monster SIEGE had turned him into. He saw the rapid fluttering of her pulse along the side of her neck, heard the slight catch in her breath. Her horrified expression pulled him back from the fury.

He drew in a deep breath through his nose and curled his fingers into fists, letting the bite of his nails into his palms relieve some of his tension. He took another few breaths until his muscles relaxed and the tight stretching of his skin faded.

“What did he do?” Gavin asked with enraged deliberation.

“He injected her with the PH-9E serum,” Nielson replied.

“What’s that?” Cora’s fear was audible. “What will it do to me?”

“It’s one of the Posthuman Project serums. As for what it will do to you?” The doctor shrugged. “The data he sent suggests this serum is a variation of the final one given to subjects one through six, however at this stage, the subject—”

“She’s not a test subject. She has a name,” Gavin snapped.

“At this stage, Miss. Evans should have been experiencing significant changes both physically and psychologically. Once the blood results are back, we’ll have a better idea as to the extent of any genetic modifications that she’s incurred.”

Cora shoved back the chair, forcing Gavin to step to the side. She frantically closed the folder.

“I want to leave,” she said. “Right now.”

Gavin didn’t hesitate. He grasped her hand and led her back to the elevator, ignoring the call from Nielson to wait. He thought he was doing the right thing bringing Cora there, trying to get answers, but it was a mistake. A massive, fucked up mistake.

SIEGE, Sinclair, Nielson: they were all the same. And now they all had samples of Cora's blood.

Chapter Fifteen

CORA HUDDLED IN THE passenger seat of the Jeep, hopelessly wanting to turn back the clock. But how far back to go? An hour and she’d never see what the experiments had done to Gavin. A week and no one would suspect Sinclair had done anything to her. Two years and Lela would still be alive. Six years and Cora would still believe it was only lust not love she felt when she looked at Gavin. Ten years and Cora could make the choice not to be friends with Lela, never giving herself the chance to interact with Gavin.

If she could do that, maybe her life would be something other than this mess. A heavy sigh escaped her, and she rested her head against the door frame.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that,” Gavin said.

She rolled her head to the side to look at him. He held himself stiff, his face unreadable, and she realized he was worried about her reaction. She didn’t blame him. It had been scary to witness the transformation, yet underneath the unnaturally large muscles and the enraged focus, he was still Gavin.

She wanted to reassure him, yet what words could possibly take away years of pain and fear? Reaching over, she smoothed a finger down the side of his face.

“I love you,” she said softly.

His lips twitched and she liked to think he was smiling in return.

“You going to tell me now?” Gavin asked.

“About what?”

“I saw how you reacted when she asked you about side effects. I get why you didn’t want to tell her, but I need to know.”

Cora stared out the window, avoiding the sidelong glances he kept throwing her. She needed to tell him about the visions. The time for her excuses over. Besides, the more she learned about Sinclair and the Posthuman Project, the more she thought her visions weren’t so strange after all.

Gavin started the Jeep and drove back to the side road leading to Thompson Creek. A road sign flew by, and panic surged through her. She knew that road. Not from her years of living in Thompson Creek but from the vision she had only days before.

She squeezed her eyes shut trying to remember what Sinclair’s viewpoint had looked like. Yet, even as the images came back, she realized they were already passed the spot.

“Cora? You okay?”

Cora shook her head to clear it. “What? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You look tired,” he said.

“I am. I haven’t been sleeping well,” she admitted.

“Nightmares?”

“No, just … Dr. Nielson asked about anxiety and night terrors. Have you ever had those?”

He gave a chuckle laced with sarcasm. “You don’t get through the shit we went through and not have anxiety when you get out. I get night terrors sometimes. Sinclair’s calling card. Anytime he’s around, they start up.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Who the fuck knows? A lot of the genetic modifications he made changed the way our bodies use and produce enzymes and hormones. I wouldn’t be surprised if he implanted something in me.”

It almost made sense. When Gavin first told her about Sinclair and the Posthuman Project, she did her research. Finding specifics, though, on the project or even Sinclair had been next to impossible unless you counted all the conspiracy theories that popped up. She read a couple of those but dismissed them when they veered into mind control and astral projection. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss them.

“Is that what you’ve been having? Night terrors?” he asked.

“No. I almost wish it was.” She took a deep breath and looked at him. “I’ve seen things. Things that aren’t happening at that moment.”

Gavin nodded, and she wondered if maybe she wasn’t the only one having visions.

“I had hallucinations a few times,” Gavin said. “Noah had a lot of them back in the lab.”

“I thought they were hallucinations. I mean, I did when they first started, but then I found out that what I saw actually happened.”

The car rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the road, and Gavin put it into park before turning to face her.

“Psychic premonitions?”

She’d expected doubt and a significant amount of skepticism. What she hadn’t expected was how much it hurt to hear it in his voice.

“Visions, not psychic. It’s … It’s hard to explain. They don’t just show just anything or everything and it’s not something I can control.”

“Then what do you see?”

“You. At the bar, driving home, talking with your brothers.”

“Those are all pretty normal things. Why would you think they’re visions?”

“Because I saw you break your arm playing football with your brothers. Two weeks before it happened when I still lived in Denver.”

The struggle to accept the idea of psychic visions flashed across his face. Finally, he nodded, though doubt continued to wrinkle his forehead.

“Okay. I need everything. Not just the bits and pieces you think are important. Everything.”

“A few months after I moved to Denver, I started waking up in the middle of the night. I’d lie there completely awake, and then all of a sudden I’d start seeing images of you.” Cora cleared her dry throat. “Like I said, I thought it was hallucinations. Some kind of post-traumatic stress.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No. Now, at least, I understand why they started. Obviously, whatever Sinclair did to me after the accident was what caused this.”

Gavin stared out the windshield, his eyes squinting in deep thought. He ran a hand through his blond hair and managed to give himself an impromptu pompadour.

“You said you only see me. Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he wants me to know he’s watching you.”

“Watching me? Why would these visions tell you he’s watching me?”

Cora swallowed around the thick lump in her throat.

“When I have a vision, I’m not there. I mean, I see what’s going on but not through my own eyes.”

“Whose? Sinclair?”

“I had no idea who he was. I caught glimpses of his reflection in a window or in a mirror, but it wasn’t until I saw the photos from the security footage that I learned who he was.”

“And you didn’t tell me.” Gavin slammed the palm of his hand along the edge of the steering wheel.

“I couldn’t.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Really? You would’ve believed me if I told you that I was having visions of some guy following you and planning to kill you?”

He cranked his head to the side, and she heard the audible click of his neck popping. “The only reason you believe me now is because you have proof Sinclair did something to me. If I said something earlier, it would have come across as some sort of desperate cry for attention.”

“Maybe, or maybe I would have at least been aware of the danger.”

She gave a soft chuckle. “Like you were after Caleb showed you the photos of Sinclair stalking you?”

“All right, I could’ve been a bit more careful,” he conceded.

“You need to be.” She thought of the guns Sinclair liked to brandish and the image of Gavin caught in their crosshairs. “Sinclair isn’t just watching you. He’s picking the perfect opportunity to kill you.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“The gun he carries, and the fact that he’s lined up his shot so many times I’ve lost count.”

“Sinclair won’t kill me. He’d view it as a loss of observational data. I don’t know what he and Nielson are planning, but I’m not going to make it easy on them.”

Cora stared at him incredulously.
How is he not taking this seriously?

“This isn’t some game, Gavin,” she snapped. “Sinclair is going to try to kill you.”

Gavin studied her for a long quiet moment until he must have come to some realization because his eyes narrowed on her. “Why did you move back to Thompson Creek? Why take a job at the bar?”

Her standard fib about not liking Denver was on the tip of her tongue, yet it refused to roll off. So many times she gave him lies or half-truths, and it never served either of them well.

“You came back to try and stop Sinclair,” he guessed. “You had no clue who he was or why he would want me dead, but you thought you could stop him.”

“I came back because I needed to,” she said, “And because I wanted to.”

The silence that fell between them stretched an eternity. Cora tried to read his blank expression. Whatever he was feeling or thinking was so deeply hidden she wondered if he was even aware of it.

Eventually, he pulled back onto the road, driving until they came to a roadside diner. He parked the Jeep and they went in and ordered dinner. Throughout the meal, Gavin questioned her about the visions, wanting specific details so he could determine which had already passed and which were still possible futures. With all of the visions she’d had, it was impossible to tell him everything, so she recounted what she remembered and then told him the rest was written in her journal at home.

It was dark by the time they got to town. He parked around the back of her building, and as they walked to the front, he placed a hand on the small of her back. Her steps slowed as she tried to delay the inevitable loss of contact once they were inside. Eventually, they made it upstairs and he sat on the couch while she went to get the journal.

“This is most of it,” she said. She handed him the book and then sat in front of him on the coffee table. “I didn’t start keeping track until maybe a month or so before I moved back.”

Gavin opened the book, his eyes skimming over her notes.

“What does the star mean?” He pointed to the small mark in the margin.

“It means it happened. Most of them I don’t know if they did or not.” She shrugged. “They’re so generic in what happens you probably wouldn’t even know.”

“Gavin and a blond woman going into his apartment,” he read. “Night. The man took off his gloves. Wrinkled hands, but not elderly.”

“See? This is what it’s like most of the time. Especially when I wasn’t here. I had no idea what you were doing, where you were, who you were with.” She gave a slight smile. “God, I sound like a stalker.”

Gavin returned her smile but didn’t say anything. Instead, he continued to flip pages, and as he neared the end of her notes, he slowed, taking the time to read each word.

“You’re in these ones,” he said.

Cora nodded. “I’m in them, but I’m still inside of him. I’m watching myself with you.”

He gave a sexy smirk. “You realize how kinky that sounds, right?”

“You’re just as bad as Keeley,” she said, shaking her head, though she couldn’t quite pull off a serious expression. “This is serious stuff.”

“You’re right, and we should definitely be serious about it. In the morning.”

He tossed the journal on the coffee table beside her and then scooted to the edge of the couch. The movement caused her to spread her legs to make room for him. He hooked his hands high under her legs and pulled her forward and onto his lap.

“Gavin.” His name came out on a sigh as she ground herself against him. Her skirt left her bare to the sensation of his jeans rubbing against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. “We should stay focused on Sinclair.”

“I’d rather focus on you.” He leaned in, his mouth hovering over hers.

“Is this a good idea?”

“Fuck, yes.” His pelvis lifted and the hardening ridge of his cock pressed against her pussy.

She caught his lower lip between her teeth and gently tugged before closing her mouth over his. Her tongue darted in, enticing his into a sensual dance. The taste of him was heady. Rich and masculine and something that was uniquely Gavin.

A moan escaped her as his hands cupped her ass cheeks, his fingers curling in and slipping beneath the edges of her panties. She pulled her mouth from his and threw her head back as she rocked against him.

His lips skimmed across the exposed line of her neck, latching on at the point where neck and shoulder met. She shivered, and her nipples tightened in anticipation.

Cora gripped the bottom of her shirt and pulled it off over her head. Seated on Gavin’s lap, her breasts were level with his face. He lapped his way down her collarbone, and through her black-lace bra, captured her beaded nipple with his teeth. He tugged on the puckered nub, then released it and did the same to the other nipple.

Gavin twisted them around until Cora’s back pressed to the seat of the couch. He tugged at her thong and she lifted her pelvis to help him get the delicate fabric out of the way. He slid his rough fingers through the soft curls and then between the folds of her pussy.

Her hips rose and fell as she desperately sought a deeper touch. He responded by slipping two fingers inside her, but the touch was too brief as he pulled out and circled her clit.

“Harder,” she said, straining closer to his touch and groaned when he followed her order.

Then his fingers were gone and he was tugging her up from the couch. He placed her in front of him and walked her to the bedroom.

He fiddled with the clasp of her bra then the loosened material sagged, and she let it fall to the floor. She started to reach for the zipper along the side of her skirt, but his hips bumped into her and she moved toward the bed.