The Lost (13 page)

“Twelve? In high school? Must have been rough.”

That stark laugh came again. “Luckily I was a big kid. Made it easier to blend in, but I always felt out of place.”

And not just in school, she suspected. Even now, as successful as he was, Adam still seemed to be an outsider. In some ways, she understood.

“When my family first came here, we were different. We were determined to show we were worthy of being here. In the Marines, I had to prove myself again, so I know what it’s like,” she urged, and tracked her thumb down to the perfect cleft in his chin, circled the edges of it, and watched as that shimmer of sky blue rose again along with warmth and need.

“So maybe we’ve got something in common.” The ghost of a smile teased his lips before he raised his hand and grasped hers, moving it away from his body. But he didn’t release her hand. A pleasant buzz of connection dallied where skin met skin as he rested their joined hands on her thigh.

“It’s almost like the vibes from a massager,” she said.

Adam peered down to where their hands lay. The paler blue of her aura had spread over his as if accepting the union. “I wish I knew what it was. I’ve been trying to find out for years—”

“Years?” she jumped in. “Doesn’t your father have information about your background?”

“I’m not really sure what my father does or doesn’t know.” He withdrew his hand from hers, severing their connection. He couldn’t explain to her about all of his father’s nasty need-to-know CIA kind of crap. Or maybe he didn’t need to, he considered. Maybe she already knew because she was a part of whatever was going on.

“Adam?” she questioned, her gaze traveling across his features as she sensed his withdrawal. She reached for him, but he backed away and the hurt blossomed on her face.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

“You seem to have a lot of questions all of a sudden.”

She jerked to her feet, snagged her cane, and gave him needed distance, pacing awkwardly before she rounded on him.

“You think I had something to do with what happened today?”

“Two men try to grab me and suddenly there you are with an aura that I’ve never seen on anyone else before.”

A disbelieving snort burst from her. When she spoke, her body quivered with tension as she jabbed a long, elegant finger in his direction. Each poke caused a shudder against his aura, as if she were physically touching him. “I didn’t even know who you were before today.”

He rose from the coffee table and approached until he was almost nose to nose with her. “But now you know
who I am. What I can do, especially for you,” he pressed and, for good measure, skimmed his hand down her left arm again. There was no denying the shock of power that had her jerking away from him.

“Damn you. I didn’t ask to be brought into this. I wouldn’t ask—”

“Because you’ve already been through enough conflict?” he asked, and grabbed hold of her waist, but his touch was soothing once again, as his concern for her and compassion for what she had suffered replaced his doubt and fear.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but she was shoving away from him, leaning heavily on her cane as she headed for the door.

He chased after her and stepped into her path, forcing her to stop. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, and reached for her, his touch gentle, tender, as he brushed his hands up and down her arms, only the most intense control keeping him from any seepage of his vitality.

She tilted her head up defiantly, fire kindling in her hazel gaze. “I had nothing to do with today. I’ve never seen those men before.”

It would take an Oscar-worthy actress to fake the earnestness in her voice or the resoluteness of her features. In that instant he knew he had only one decision to make.

Trust her or continue to be alone.

Dragging in a ragged breath, he held it for long moments before he expelled it shakily and said, “I believe you.”

There was no denying what it had taken for him to reach that decision, Bobbie thought.

It was clear from the way his shoulders sagged with
frustration and the shadows in his eyes that stole the life from them. She stepped near and wrapped her arms around him, offering comfort, laying her face alongside his and whispering, “We’ll work together to find out what’s going on.”

“Why would you do that?” he asked, his body still stiff in her arms, his hands hanging loosely at his sides.

She inched back a bit and he glanced at her. So many emotions played across his face that it was impossible to take a read of him. Bringing her arms around, she rested a hand on each cheek, sensing the tingle of power once more, but pushing it away.

“Because I don’t want you to feel so alone anymore.”

Something broke free in him then. He finally encircled her waist and rested his forehead on hers. Long moments passed as the comfort of the embrace drove away earlier fears and upset. When peace finally overtook them, the contact slowly transformed.

Adam nuzzled his nose along the side of her face. “Thank you for that, but I guess we should work on it tomorrow. You look a little tired.”

She turned toward him, her lips brushing along the line of his jaw as she said, “I am. I should go.”

“You could stay.”

Stay.

The word echoed in her brain over and over.

Stay.

Seemingly a simple action, but not. Staying meant opening up so much more of herself to him. It wasn’t just the physical wounds that were still too fresh. Her emotions were a jumble and surprisingly fragile. She had always considered herself to be strong inside and out, but
the deaths of her men continued to haunt her, as did the guilt. That made it difficult for her to really feel anything else or trust in her emotions, not to mention that she had been hoping for peace in her civilian life. If today was proof of one thing it was that being with Adam might entail risk. She was unsure whether she could handle that on a daily basis.

“It’s too soon,” she replied, and with a resigned smile, he nodded.

“I understand. I’ll drive you home.” He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and took a step away from her, but she snared his hand.

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can, judging from what I saw this afternoon. But my father raised me to be a gentleman.”

She hugged him hard and said, “I appreciate the offer, but I need my car in the morning.”

“I’ll make arrangements so it will be there first thing,” he said. She recognized that he was determined, and in a way, she kind of liked it. It was nice to have someone who cared. With a dip of her head and a playful shake of his hand, she accepted his kindness.

He smiled, a broad and relaxed grin with a playful dimple that only made him even more handsome and caused a hitch in her heartbeat.

“Let me get a shirt and keys,” he said. He rushed upstairs and loped back down the steps, shrugging on a pale blue polo shirt that brought out hints of teal in his eyes and hugged the muscles of his upper body. Then they walked hand in hand toward the kitchen. At the far end, by a door that must lead to the garage, his keys sat on the counter.

He snatched them up as they walked out into the space where the Bentley sat, bright, shiny, and almost red.

“Nice car,” she said as he walked her to the passenger side.

“It’s a sweet ride,” he replied, dragging a chuckle from her and causing him to raise an eyebrow in question.

“A family joke. Let’s just say, it’s comforting to know that you’re actually human despite the money.”

He arched up the other eyebrow. “Is that a problem for you? The money?”

Facing him, she ran her hand along the side of his head, smoothing down an errant spike of sun-bleached hair. “It is if you’re not a nice guy.”

He narrowed his gaze and examined her. “Am I a nice guy?”

Bobbie shook her head and chuckled. “So far, Adam. Only time will tell.”

N
obody fucked with Salvatore Bruno. Not the assorted slime balls he had dealt with as a Texas Ranger. Not the overseas mobsters whom he had infiltrated in his first stints in his special CIA unit. Not even the other people in his group who had come to understand he could be one badass motherfucker if they messed with one of his investigations.

As he paced back and forth in his bedroom, he contemplated why Alexander had decided that it would be better to snag Adam on his own rather than continue with their plan. Up until tonight, Salvatore had thought that they were all in agreement that it made more sense for Salvatore to introduce Adam to a potential mate and eventually reintegrate him with his people to advance the Genesis project.

He had thought that both Alexander Sombrosa and he were on board—that this was one time finesse would work better than force.

Given Sombrosa’s apparent double cross, Salvatore had obviously been mistaken. Which meant that he had to watch not only Adam’s back, but his own. He didn’t put it above Sombrosa to attempt to eliminate him so that he could do what he pleased with Adam.

To safeguard himself and Genesis, Salvatore needed more information about what had transpired that afternoon so he could set his trap for Sombrosa. Since Adam had mentioned that the incident had happened in the SolTerra parking lot, Salvatore used a back door that he had implanted to access the company’s network. He quickly found the security videos and reclined in his chair as he fast-forwarded through the day’s recordings until he got to the section that showed the attack.

Via the silent color videos, he observed as Adam and Bobbie fought off the two attackers who had emerged from the nondescript van. He snapped off screen prints of the two men. As he did so, it occurred to him that one of them seemed familiar, but Salvatore had a hard time matching the face to anyone he had met in Alexander’s cadre. Maybe Sombrosa hadn’t been involved in the attempt.

Was the man familiar because he was from an old case? he thought and printed out the photo so he could study the man’s face more carefully. Grabbing the photo, he rose and poured himself a scotch on the rocks. He took a long, slow sip, and the warmth of the alcohol traveled down his throat as he returned to his desk, his eyes glued to the photo. Something about the man’s face continued to drag worrisomely on his memory.

With a quicker, almost impatient swig of the scotch, he paced, alternating the sips of scotch with a swirl of the
ice and liquor in the glass while he searched his brain for a clue.

Suddenly it came to him.

“Shit,” he said, and slammed the almost empty glass on his desk. He unlocked the side drawers on his desk and pulled out his files, which included a highly classified National Security Association archive available to only a chosen few. He was one of the select individuals with high enough security clearance, in light of his participation in his clandestine CIA team, a team that had been involved in this particular NSA mission because of the peculiarity of the crimes.

Opening the file, he flipped through the papers and cursed once again when he confirmed why the attacker looked familiar. Twenty years earlier the man had been a prime suspect in one of Salvatore’s cases when he had been with the Texas Rangers, a twenty-year-old case involving a series of mysterious murders in the South Texas desert.

Twenty years, Salvatore thought, and tossed back the remainder of the scotch.

Sombrosa had to be involved in the attack. Why else would there be a link to the case in which he had taken Adam from his people? Anger returned at Sombrosa’s duplicity, but Salvatore knew he had to keep a cool head. Sombrosa would be furious that his men had failed. If they were still alive—he suspected Alexander dealt harshly with failure—plans were probably already underway for another attack.

Sombrosa would also likely be playing it cool, waiting for a call from Salvatore with a report on his matchmaking progress. Salvatore wasn’t going to disappoint him.
As long as Sombrosa thought he was clear of suspicion, Salvatore was one up on him.

Dialing, Salvatore baited the trap, nonchalantly advising Sombrosa that he was still working on setting up the date with Maya and earning a rather offhanded reminder from his supposed partner that time was running out. The reply wasn’t unexpected, but its too-blasé tone bothered him.

Not even Sombrosa could be that good a liar, could he? Salvatore wondered.

Before Sombrosa’s duplicity, Salvatore had been determined to arrange for Adam’s peaceful return to his Hunter clan and the commencement of Genesis. Now another objective would take priority: determining whether Sombrosa was behind the attempted kidnapping. If he was, there was no way Salvatore would trust Sombrosa with both his son and his precious project.

As Adam drove her home, Bobbie kept vigilant for anything unusual, but it was a quiet and uneventful ride to her condo. Adam eased into a spot by her front door and killed the engine, seeming hesitant to leave.

In truth, she wasn’t in such a rush for him to go. He fascinated her, and not because of his powers. Possibly in spite of them. She was more interested in finding out about the lonely boy who had grown up into such a seemingly confident and successful man. But then again, adversity often bred strength. She had seen it in the Marines. She had lived it.