Last Strike by Regan Black Page A

cool air whispered between their bodies. “I think I can break his ability to track you.”
    He rounded on her abruptly, bumping her with his oversized shoulder. On an annoyed curse, he quickly reached out to steady her. But she didn’t stay at arm’s length. She never would, he realized, far too late to do the right thing and dodge her. His honor, going unused for years, was out of practice. Daria slipped close and wrapped herself around him, a faint smile on her lips and hope gleaming in those deep, brown eyes.
    She bent her head and kissed his chest, on either side of the cross necklace, and squeezed him a bit tighter. His angel. As much as he wanted her close, he had to send her away, far from his darkness.
    “It’s a matter of fight or flight,” she said, her voice soft.
    Definitely. He needed to fly away from her. His arms hung loose from his shoulders, not quite touching her where his body had a choice. He couldn’t wrap her up as he wanted to, he might crush her. Besides she might get the wrong idea that he could protect her. That clearly wasn’t true.
    “Doctor,” he began, regretting how the words made her flinch. He’d hurt her no matter what he did. The sane choice was putting this back in perspective. “We don’t have much time to arrange new protection for you.”
    She tipped her head up to stare at him, a small frown drawing her golden eyebrows together. “New protection? Why?”
    He nodded. For a smart woman, she was being a fool to cling to him. “I’m a risk to you.”
    “Yes.”
    The single word lacked fear. She sounded dazed, dazzled to his ears. A residual effect of the blow to his head. Just when he’d pulled himself together enough to seize on her unexpected agreement, she started talking again.
    “Not in the way you’re thinking.” Her small hands ran up and down his sides, his arms, before she laced her fingers with his. “Fight or flight, as I said. With you, they put the tracker into your adrenal system. I found the notes a couple of hours ago. I believe I can counter it.”
    It had to be another outrageous, medical claim. Nonsense she was making up to ease his concerns. The question slipped past his lips anyway. “How?” He was desperate to believe her. Believe in her.
    “We’d have to go to the lab to be sure.” She squeezed his hands. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you?”
    He shook his head. “I don’t like needles.”
    She winced, making him regret the admission. “What about before the UI program?”
    How would he know? His first life was little more than a fog with the occasional break to reveal… nothing of much importance. He started to shake his head again and stopped. “I was afraid of water. I think.” Maybe he’d been afraid of everything, though that didn’t feel right either.
    Her brown eyes went round in her lovely face. “But your name...” she smothered a giggle. “You joined the Marines .”
    He shrugged a shoulder, trying not to bask in the admiration in her gaze. “I guess if it’s true, I didn’t let it hold me back.”
    Her lips parted and he battled the urge, the need, to kiss her again. What would she say if he told her she was his only fear now? He feared he couldn’t keep her alive. Feared he wouldn’t keep his hands off her. Feared the horrendous fallout if he let her get any closer.
    She cleared her throat. “Based on what just happened, on your reactions and responses, I believe if I overload your adrenal system, your body will fry the tracking factor.”
    She thought it was body chemistry? He wasn’t a brilliant researcher like her, but he wasn’t an idiot. And losing the tracker wouldn’t change Messenger’s hold over him. He’d lived through their testing, survived their vote to put him down and made something of his life anyway. Something ugly was still something.
    He didn’t appreciate the concept that his willing, murderous service to the cold bastard boiled down to conditioning. Mind control wasn’t any