Into the Mist (11 page)

She blew out her breath in frustration. “Okay, forget the babysitting part. I know I fucked up, but the keeping D locked up and me away from him bites, and you know it.”

He reached out and chucked her lightly on the chin. “I know it sucks, baby. But in this…this time I support Jonah's decision.”

Tyana looked away, trying hard not to be angry with him. It wouldn't change anything, and she really didn't want there to be bad feelings between them. Or with Jonah for that matter, though after tonight, she knew there wasn't a lot she could do about that.

“I want to see him today, Mad Dog,” she said softly. “I need to see him and make sure he's okay. If I have to fight my way through that goddamn door, I will.”

He sighed. “I'll make sure you see him after Marcus has been through to check things out, okay?”

She nodded.

“Did you and Jonah make up last night?” he asked in an abrupt change of subject.

She made a face and hoped to hell Mad Dog hadn't seen her and Jonah get all mushy. “Yeah, we're cool. That is until he pissed me off again this morning.”

He laughed. “Yeah, well him pissing you off is nothing new and vice versa. When you two start being nice to each other is when I'm gonna start looking for a new job.”

She grinned. Their relationship…well, it just worked. It always had. She had a deep and abiding respect for Jonah that had started as hero worship and evolved as she'd grown older. Which made it so difficult for her to disregard his orders for the first time.

Mad Dog cocked his head to the side. “I think I hear the chopper now. That must be Marcus.”

She stood eagerly, but Mad Dog pushed her back down. “Let Jonah handle it. You'll only get in the way, start butting heads, and D doesn't need that right now. Be patient. I promise you'll get to see him afterward.”

With a resigned sigh, she settled back on her seat and stuffed more orange M&Ms in her mouth. When Jonah rounded the corner, their gazes connected for a moment before he walked out to the helipad to greet Marcus.

“Down, girl,” Mad Dog murmured.

She threw an M&M at him which he caught and promptly popped into his mouth.

A few moments later, Jonah returned with Marcus, along with two men carrying a whole host of medical bags and equipment.

Her panicked gaze found Mad Dog's, and he reached out and covered her hand with his.

“He'll be all right, baby. Trust in that.”

She closed her eyes against the pain and fear that threatened to slice her in two. Damiano had to be all right. She simply wouldn't accept anything less.

“Come on, let's go shoot some pool. It'll get your mind off D for a while.”

She reluctantly followed Mad Dog into the game room, but her attention was focused on what was happening upstairs.

 

 

 

After three frustrating rounds in which Mad Dog kicked her ass, Tyana was ready to concede defeat. She was solidly on edge, and with every minute that passed, she was more tempted to charge upstairs.

Then Jonah appeared, standing in the doorway, his expression giving nothing away.

“You can go up and see him, Ty.”

She tossed aside the pool cue and shouldered by Jonah without a word. When she reached the stairs, she vaulted up two at a time. Marcus was just walking out of Damiano's room with his assistants in tow.

Though she wanted nothing more than to see D for herself, she stopped and grabbed Marcus's arm.

“How is he?” she demanded.

Marcus regarded her steadily. “I've upped his dosage of the serum, though I'm not sure how much good it will do. I've taken more blood samples to bring back to the lab for further testing. His instability doesn't seem to be physiological. I have a suspicion that it's psychological and that his triggers stem from his brain activity.”

She frowned. “What does all of that mean? Is there a way to help him?”

“I'm working on it, Ty. I'm adding a regimen of mild sedatives. If he remains calm, I think there's a better chance he can control the random shifting.” He paused for a moment then stared intently at her. “I think more and more that this is something he's going to have to beat on his own. From the beginning, I've approached this as a medical condition and treated it as such, but despite the manner in which he contracted his abilities, they fall in the realm of the supernatural, and as such, the key to conquering or controlling them is going to manifest itself within him. Basically he's been given powers that he's going to have to learn to use.”

She shook her head. “That's not logical, Marcus. There has to be a scientific cure, some explanation, some way to fix what happened. It was a chemical agent, not some act of a supernatural being. God didn't come down and gift him with superpowers. Science did this to him, so science has to be able to fix him.”

Marcus's expression grew grim. “This wasn't science, Tyana. It was men playing at being God, and maybe they succeeded to a degree. Whatever was in that chemical agent altered his DNA. I can't fix that. I can only bandage it.”

She fell back against the wall, tears stinging her eyes. She scrubbed angrily at her face with her sleeve. “I won't accept that. I won't accept that there isn't something we can do.”

Marcus reached out and lightly touched her arm. “I'm sorry, Ty. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but I won't lie to you. You have to accept that Damiano may always be this way, and if he can't learn to harness his powers, they might destroy him.”

She pushed past Marcus and into D's room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his gaze directed out the window. He looked up when he heard her enter, and she could see the haunted shadows in his eyes.

She fell to her knees in front of him and gathered him tightly in her arms. His arms came around her and held on just as tightly.

“We'll beat this,” she said fiercely. “Goddamn it, D, we'll beat this. Do you hear me?”

He slowly pulled away, and his gaze flickered over her face. His expression tightened in pain when his hand brushed over the bruise on her cheek. “I hurt you,” he said hoarsely.

She kissed his hand and shook her head adamantly. “You didn't hurt me, D. You would never hurt me. It wasn't you.”

“You should probably stay away from me,” he said in a low voice. “It's for the best.”

She framed his face in both her hands and forced him to look at her. “I'm never leaving you, D. Never. You don't have to do this alone. I'm going to find a way to help you. I swear it. We'll do this together, just like we've done everything else. You and me against the world.”

He smiled then, his brown eyes warming with love and affection. “How is it you turned into my fiercest protector when I spent so many years looking out for you?”

“Because now it's you who needs protecting. It's time I took care of you.”

He yawned and frowned. “Marcus gave me a sedative. It's making me a little woozy.”

“Then rest,” she said softly. “And know that you'll always have me with you. No matter what.”

“I know, little sister, I know.”

She hugged him once more then heard Jonah at the door.

“He needs to rest, Ty.”

She rounded furiously. “Back off, Jonah.”

He stared hard at her but didn't leave. She slowly turned back to Damiano and hugged him tightly. “I love you,” she said fiercely.

“Love you more,” he said with a soft laugh. “Now go before Jonah has a coronary.”

She touched his cheek one last time, knowing this would be the last time she'd see him for a while, longer if Jonah tossed her out of FMG after she pulled off her latest plan.

Then she turned, her eyes burning, and walked past Jonah and down the stairs. She needed air. She needed to be alone to grieve.

Chapter Ten

This was the part of her plan that sucked. Not the sneaking out of the house with a wetsuit, radio and GPS or the quick change she'd done crouched among the rocks dodging the incoming surf. It was the swimming.

Tyana swam through the dark waters toward the adjacent island with precise strokes. Her radio and GPS were stuffed into a waterproof bag and secured to her waist. The knife Mad Dog had given her was strapped to her leg. Everything else had been left behind.

Midway, she paused and flipped onto her back to rest, thankful that her rigorous training kept her in shape. The water wasn't rough, but she knew it would get hairy when she neared the rocky island. She'd need all her wits and strength to make sure she didn't end up a rock ornament.

After a few moments, she flipped back over and struck out again. She was on a tight schedule and needed to be on that boat before Jonah or Mad Dog discovered she was gone.

She'd left a note for D, not that Jonah wouldn't know exactly why she was gone, but she wasn't so callous as to simply disappear without explanation.

Jonah would know, and he'd come after her. She'd just have to make sure she stayed one step ahead of him and accomplished her goal as quickly as possible.

The current began to drag more forcefully at her, and she didn't try to fight it. She swam hard as it pushed her to shore and rested when it began to suck her back.

Three steps forward, two steps back.

She chose the angle of entry and put all her concentration into making sure she wasn't yanked off course. The waves pounded at her as she swept between jagged rock outcroppings. Pain shot through her leg when her knee cracked into a rock just below the surface, but she gathered her wits and used it to push off and propel her closer to shore.

Her feet glanced off the bottom, and she reached down, digging for a foothold, only to be dragged back and slapped again against the rough surface of the rock.

With the next wave, she plunged beneath the surface and grabbed at handholds to pull herself forward. She was almost there, damn it.

She broke the surface, gasping for air, and planted her feet on the bottom as she fought the current. Then, with the next oncoming wave, she lunged for the shore, finally crawling and collapsing onto the sand.

Her leg ached like a mother, but she didn't have time to evaluate her injuries.

She hauled herself up and limped up the incline and into the dense foliage and rock that sheltered the tiny island. She hit the button on her watch, and the green neon glow illuminated the time. She had twenty minutes to make the rendezvous point.

She made it to the opposing beach with five minutes to spare, bursting out of the thick, vine-ridden underbrush. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the boat in the distance.

Right on time.

The boat stopped a quarter mile from shore and flashed a single beacon toward the beach. Ignoring her pain and exhaustion, she plunged into the surf and waded out to do battle again with the rocks and current. At least this side wasn't as bad as the western front.

Several long minutes later, she reached the boat and threw her hand up to grasp the side. A strong, male arm hoisted her up and over, and she collapsed on the bottom, sucking air like a fish out of water.

The boat sped off as she caught her breath and mentally took stock of her condition. Aside from a few bumps and bruises and the pounding her knee had taken, she'd escaped relatively unscathed.

She pulled herself up, clutching the side as they rolled over a swell, and took position beside the guy manning the boat.

“How far until we rendezvous with the chopper?” she shouted.

He pointed to the onboard navigational system that charted their course, and she could see their ETA was fifteen minutes. Enough time for her to collect herself and prepare for the next leg of this insane venture.

She examined the tear in her wetsuit and wiped at the blood seeping from the cut. It stung like hell, but it didn't appear too serious. She slouched in her seat and tried to relax as much as possible as the minutes ticked by. Finally the boat slowed, and the guy cut the engine. They came to a stop, rocking and dipping with the waves.

A few seconds later, the sound of a chopper heading in their direction echoed through the night. When it hovered overhead, Tyana heard a thump as the rope ladder hit the deck of the boat. Her driver grabbed the lower rung and motioned her to hurry.

He held it in place while she gripped the rungs and hauled herself up. Another pair of hands gripped her wrists when she neared the top, and she found herself lying facedown on the floor of the helicopter as it soared away.

Damn, what a night. In other circumstances, she would have enjoyed the rush. Right now she was just trying to get her bearings.

Really big hands wrapped around her arms and jerked her upright. She found herself looking into the dark brown eyes of Tits, a bald-headed, bad-assed, mean-tempered son of a bitch. He liked to call himself a cross between an African American and a European mutt, whatever the hell that was.

He gave her an earpiece with a mic extending around to her mouth, and she grinned tiredly up at him as she put it in place. “Tits, love the earring, dude. When did you get it?”

He fingered the gold hoop dangling from his fleshy earlobe. “You like it? Did it myself.”

She tried not to shudder. “It's you. Definitely you. Now what's up with the meet and greet? Had no idea I rated such special treatment.”

He flashed his perfectly straight, disgustingly perfect white teeth at her in what looked more like a snarl than a smile. “And miss out on this story? Hell, girl, this will only get better when I get the call from Jonah asking me where the hell you are. That's when the fun begins.”

She gave him a sour look. “Don't egg him on. It'll only make things worse for me.”

He patted a thick envelope on the seat beside him. “I got your stuff here, but you don't get it until you spill.”

“Blackmailing bastard,” she muttered. With a resigned sigh, she gave him the much abbreviated version of the story behind her run-in with Eli Chance and her subsequent meeting with Esteban in Paris.