Deadly Sight (6 page)

They ate a late lunch on tray tables in the living room, which felt cave-like with the windows draped in thick curtains. She’d taken out her contacts, and her eyes glowed an unearthly shade that was more than a little unsettling. He was fascinated, though, by how Sam continuously cycled through no less than four television shows. “You’re going to wear that remote out,” he commented.

“Get your own if you’re worried about it,” she shot back.

The tough, mouthy version of Sammie Jo was back, apparently. Which one was the real person and which one the act? It was hard to tell. He had to give her credit for distracting him, though. He’d made it all the way through the meal without one flashback.
Small steps, buddy. Small steps
.

“So how do we go about gathering all this supposed intel the neighbors possess?” he asked.

“Can you bake?” she asked obliquely.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, all I can bake are brownies out of a box. That’ll do in a pinch, but if you can do anything better like some muffins or bread, that would be helpful.”

“You want me to bake my way to mission success?” he challenged incredulously.

“Exactly. The neighbors will bring food to welcome us to the neighborhood and give them an excuse to scope us out. We’ll reciprocate, of course. Enter your baked goods. Then I’ll draw them out and get them gossiping. And that’s when I’ll get the dirt on Proctor and whatever else is going on around here. By tomorrow, news of Luke’s murder will be all over the county if it isn’t already. Everyone will be talking about him, too.”

“And when will this food exchange commence?”

“I give it another hour.”

She wasn’t far wrong. It was actually more like an hour and a half, but he was still impressed. When the doorbell rang, Sam raced for the bathroom to put in her contacts while he answered it. The first neighbor to arrive, casserole dish in hand, was a retired school teacher who lived next door, Maddie Mercer. She struck him as the type to peer out of her windows at all hours of the day and night at the slightest noise or movement. He was worried about the quantity and quality of her prying. Miss Maddie could be a problem going forward. She did, however, make the best homemade macaroni and cheese he’d ever tasted.

As more neighbors commenced dropping in, he lost track of their names, addresses and connections to one another. And he was usually pretty good at that sort of thing. But Sam made it look effortless, and by early evening seemed to have the genealogies of most of this portion of West Virginia unraveled.

She picked unenthusiastically at a green bean casserole someone had brought over, but he had no qualms about digging into the surprisingly tasty food. At the moment, he was working his way through a plate of some succulent barbecued meat dish.

“What is this I’m eating?” he asked her.

“Don’t ask. If it tastes good, just go with it. In this part of the country, it could be anything from pork to possum.”

The meat abruptly lost its savor, and he went back to Miss Maddie’s macaroni and cheese, which even Sam had declared “fantabulous.”

She waited until he had a mouthful of cheesy goodness to say without warning, “So. I assume you know about the
other
radio antenna array in the NRQZ. The classified one the NSA runs that pretends it’s a Naval Communications and Signal station.”

He choked but managed not to kill himself swallowing. “I can neither confirm nor deny any knowledge of any classified sites in this area.”

“You seriously claim not to know that the NSA has a gigantic antenna array at the navy’s Shady Grove station?”

“I don’t confirm or deny anything,” he retorted.

“Ahh. I know that game. That’s a yes. If you could deny it, you would. Or you’d lie. Why didn’t you? Afraid I could read you and recognize a fib?”

Damn, that woman was quick. Only way to fight fire was with fire. He shot back at her, “How old were you when you ran away from home?”

“Fifteen,” she blurted, looking startled.

Lord, that was young. And naive. So easy to get in awful trouble at that age. His heart ached a little for the scared, angry kid she must have been. “Why’d you go?”

“The usual reasons. I was pissed off at the world, sure I could get it right on my own and sick of the crap at home.”

“What kind of crap?”

“The usual kind that makes kids run away.” She got up and carried their paper plates to the trash can in the kitchen. “I did the dishes, honey,” she called out to him in a saccharine voice.

Hmm. Abuse? Alcohol? Drugs? Arguments? All of the above? Abruptly, he felt incredibly lucky to have had the upbringing he had. He might not have had a dad, but his mom had been a great single parent. He’d have to give her a call when he finished this mission and tell her so.

Last night hadn’t included much sleep, not to mention all the shopping and chores today. He called it a night early, and went into his room to face a strange bed. He still struggled with them. After seeing his own bed soaked and dripping with blood—

He slammed the door shut on that memory as hard and fast as he could. That particular chamber of horrors could swallow him in clinical depression for days.

He fell asleep surprisingly fast, but woke up abruptly in the middle of the night. His watch said it was nearly 2:00 a.m. Blue light flickered underneath his door. Sam must still be up and watching TV. He pulled on a T-shirt over his sweatpants and went out to check on her. She was wrapped practically to her nose in a fuzzy blanket and staring blankly at a bad comedy movie. Her eyes glowed like cinders nestled deep in the shadows of her face. But oddly, he felt like he was getting used to the sight of her surreal eyes. He doubted she was seeing a thing on the television.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Everything okay?”

She glanced up as if startled out of deep thoughts. “Yeah. Fine.”

He sat down beside her. “You don’t look fine.”

“I’m good,” she insisted.

He wasn’t buying that for a minute. “Tell me about it. How did your logic go? If we’re going to be partners and it’s going to put my life in danger, I have a right to know.”

“Nothing in my past is going to endanger you.”

Thinking about her past, huh? “They’re just memories. They don’t have the power to hurt you unless you let them.” Her gaze snapped to him as he continued, “All that exists is right now. The past is gone and the future has yet to happen. People get too wrapped up in regretting the one and fearing the other.”

“My, that’s philosophical of you, Mr. Pierce.”

“Just keeping it real. Whatever’s bugging you isn’t here right now. It’s a calm night, you have your cable TV back, and you look warm and cozy. Enjoy the moment.”

She ventured a small smile at him. In the light of the television, her eyes glowed a surreal shade of yellow that was a little unnerving. “The company’s not half-bad, either,” she murmured.

Their gazes met. She leaned toward him and he met her halfway. But he merely gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. He made a policy of never taking advantage of a woman’s emotional weakness to hit on her. “Want some hot chocolate?” he asked. “I hear it’s a surefire cure for all that ails a girl.”

“Who taught you so much about women?”

“My mother.”

“You’re a mama’s boy?” she asked in surprise.

“It was just the two of us when I was a kid. We were close.”

“Do you talk to her often?”

The wistful undertone in Sam’s voice took on new significance for him. “We talk as often as I can come up for air. She’d like you. She approves of spunky women.”

His mother had approved of another young woman a long time ago. The pain started to come, but he shoved it back ruthlessly, focusing instead on the woman seated next to him.

Hunger flashed across Sam’s face. It must be terrible not having any parents. He was a grown man and didn’t exactly need his mother to tell him how to live, but it was still powerful to know someone out there loved him with a mother’s fierceness. It had saved his life more than once in the past five years.

He made two cups of hot chocolate and carried them back to the living room. They sipped in companionable silence.

“Why didn’t you lay a big, wet kiss on me just now?” Sam asked without warning.

“Because it wouldn’t be sporting to take advantage of you in that way.”

“
Sporting?
Are you English or something? That’s not the first time you’ve said something that sounded like the British Broadcasting Corporation.”

“Or something,” he answered evasively.

“If you don’t start telling me about yourself, I’m calling Jeff tomorrow and getting all the dirt on you.”

He groaned. “I quake in my boots at the stories he could tell you. We were fraternity brothers in college.”

She grinned knowingly. “Several of the Code X guys are old frat brothers of his. You all must have been really close.”

“We were. Who else is in Code X from the old gang?”

“Aiden McKay and Trenton Hollings.”

“Which are they? Jeep tossers or eagle eyes?”

“Neither. The researchers are working on different gene sets for each one of us. Aiden swims like a fish and can hold his breath forever, and Trent is
fast
. His quick twitch reflexes are off the charts. I hear Jeff’s recruiting someone else as we speak. I think Doc Jones has some mental modifications in mind for the next test subject.”

“Who’s Doc Jones, exactly?”

“Gemma Jones. She’s one of the leading geneticists in the world. Brilliant woman, if a bit of a geek.”

“Mental modifications like how?”

“Are you volunteering for the treatment?” she asked.

He reared back, shocked. He would never change himself into a—

A sniff interrupted his train of thought. “Don’t want to be a
freak
like me, huh? Why am I not surprised?” She surged up out of her blanket and stormed into her bedroom. The door closed with an ominously soft click.

What in the hell had he done? He never called her a freak! He might have thought it, but a guy couldn’t be convicted of just thinking a word. Except she must have seen it in his eyes...he sighed...and he ought to be man enough to admit it.

He went to her door and knocked gently. “Sammie Jo? Can we talk?”

Nothing.

“Sam? Please. I’m sorry.”

Still nothing.

“I’m an ass.”

Still
nothing.
Damn.

“You’re not a freak.”

The door cracked open. Her teary gaze looked like molten gold. A quicksilver tear trembled on her cheek. She looked supernatural—stunning and beautiful.

“I truly am sorry. Your special abilities take a little getting used to. Please bear with me while I adjust.”

“Now I know what the guys were talking about.” He must have looked confused, because she clarified, “Jeff and Aiden were comparing notes about how it sucked when their girlfriends thought they were completely bizzaro.”

“You’re not bizzaro,” he declared. “Just your clothes are,” he teased gently.

“Hey! I dressed conservative to come to Hickville.”

He made a face. “I’d hate to see your idea of far-out attire.”

“That can be arranged,” she threatened. A smile broke through and lit her face.

Without the wild makeup her skin was like satin, and its creamy contrast to her hair was striking. “Is that your natural hair color?” he asked.

“Actually, yes.”

“Impressive.”

“It’s just genetics,” she commented dryly.

He leaned against the door frame as she opened the door fully. Her pajama pants were baby-blue flannel with cute cartoon sheep sprinkled over them like fluffy marshmallows. The thin white tank T-shirt she wore stood in starkly sexy contrast, announcing in no uncertain terms that she was all woman and nicely endowed. She obviously hadn’t needed much help under that leather jacket to create that impressive cleavage.
Must concentrate. Build rapport
. And avoid sexual thoughts since she also appeared to be some kind of mind reader.

“Have your eyes always been that color?” he asked curiously.

“No. They used to be light brown. The changes to my DNA changed both the inside and outside of my eyeballs.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No. The treatment was just a series of shots, and the changes were gradual. I’ve been in the program long enough now that Gemma thinks my modifications are permanent. We’ve stopped the shots to see if the changes remain.”

“And if they don’t?”

“I’ll go back to taking the shots.”

Wow. She didn’t hesitate for a moment when she said that. “So you wouldn’t consider letting your eyesight return to normal?”

She shook her head. “Once you’ve experienced life this way, you don’t want to go back.”

“How’s that?”

“I see everything so much more clearly than I used to. It would be like getting used to 3D, HD television and then going back to a 1960s vintage black-and-white TV.”

That actually made sense. “What about health side effects?”

“I’ll deal with them if and when they manifest. So far, the only real downside is the whole business of sunlight. It has forced me to live more like a vampire than most folks. It took a little getting used to. That and learning to remember other people can’t see what I can.”

That gave him pause. What did she see when she looked at him? “I’d be afraid of going blind or something terrible later on,” he commented.

She shrugged. “There are no guarantees in life, are there? I could be hit by a car tomorrow, and then it wouldn’t matter what happens to my vision down the road. Weren’t you the one who was just telling me to live in the moment and not fear the future?”

He scowled at having his words turned back on him like that. “Fine. You may be right. But still. I’d worry about the consequences of doing something so drastic to myself.”

“It’s not like I got a tattoo,” she declared indignantly. “Now
that’s
something permanent and regrettable down the road.”

He laughed. “You’re telling me the original wild child doesn’t have a tat or two tucked away somewhere on her person?”

She rolled her eyes. “I may dress goth, but I like the skin I came in just the way it is. I never went for tramp stamps.”