Prototype (17 page)

P
rivate,
” Reid says in a tone that has far too much delight in it for my taste. He dismisses a small group of men and walks toward me with a computer tablet clutched to his chest.

“Major.”

“You’re late.”

“Colonel Updike said you would have a schedule for me?” There is no sense in offering any excuses. He will only use them as ammunition against me.

Reid sits on the edge of one of the desks and scans the chatter-heavy room before answering. “You’re getting off easy, Wade.”

I am careful to hide my surprise. He has called me nothing but Mrs. Burke since I arrived. “Easy how?”

He passes over the tablet. “This is yours. I forwarded your schedule to your personal in-box; memorize it. Don’t miss any of your training sessions. You never know when they’ll come in handy. Obviously, we’re tasking you to help with Declan Burke.”

I tighten my steadily warming grip around the tablet. I stand here listening but cannot believe this is happening. I am taking orders from Clint Reid. “Okay.”

He hands me a small plastic container. Inside is a single, nude-colored earbud. “Your com-link. In your ear. Every second you’re on duty. Got it?”

I nod.

“Lieutenant Colonel Tucker is planning a mission he’d like you to sit in on today,” he continues, “but until then, you need a few things to get started.” He nods behind me. “Birmingham is going to take you around to get everything—locker, uniforms, weapons.” He straightens. “Back here in one hour, Private Wade. Try not to be late this time.”

I swivel around and approach Foster. His arms are folded across his chest, his stance wide. A smile lengthens the longer he stares at me.

“What is so amusing?”

“You. Ranked under me. I find that beyond entertaining.” He motions to see my tablet. “Let’s look at your schedule, Private.”

I roll my eyes and hand it over. Everyone is having far too much fun at my expense. “Do you know anything about this mission Noah is planning?”

“I’m as clueless as you, but I’ll be at the meeting.” He squints at the screen and rolls his fingertips over the top, reading what must be my schedule. “Looks like you’re in the gym every morning for combat training.”

My heart leaps into my throat.
Combat?
“Colonel Updike said—”

“I’m sure it’s only because of what happened in San Fran. You’re lucky the team got there when they did. You do pretty good in a fight, and you know how to shoot, but another situation like that on your own and you’ll be dead or captured.”

Or worse: Declan’s mindless, compliant wife.

“Weapons training,” he continues, sliding his finger over the screen. “Weight training per doctor’s orders. All this on top of your scheduled hours monitoring feeds. You’ll have no time to eat or sleep, Wade.”

As if I
want
to sleep. I take the tablet back. “I can live with that.”

Foster reaches out and tugs a strand of my cropped hair, a smirk lighting his expression. “That’s the spirit. Come on. Let’s get you suited up.”

It takes nearly an hour to get me “suited up.” I am left with little choice but to wear the standard-issue black pants, shirt, and jacket like everyone else. I am also assigned my own set of HK pistols, which hang heavy on my sides.

We run to our scheduled meeting to make it in time. We arrive at a desk in the command center, where Noah leans with crossed arms and legs facing everyone. His eyes widen slightly when he sees my new haircut, and I admit to butterflies, wondering whether or not he approves. It is as if this is the moment of truth; will he want me for me, or will he realize I am not the wife he remembers and let me go?

Reid sits perched on the desk beside him, a cinnamon-colored brow raised at me and Foster. Leigh, Miles, and Farrah sit in chairs in front of them. Farrah spares me the same look she always has in the past, the one that says I do not belong here. She and I will never be friends, and I am okay with that as long as she does not do anything to cause trouble.

Miles rolls an empty chair toward him and motions for me to sit. “Jesus, Wade. I forgot how hot you look with a gun on your hip.”

Noah shifts in my peripheral and I am careful not to look over for his full reaction. I do not want to see that he cares one way or the other, nor do I want to show any indication that I need to know. Especially since he has made it clear he wants to work things out with Sonya, guilt-ridden though the effort may be.

Miles winks as I sit, throws an arm over my shoulder, and leans close to my ear. It is intimate enough that I expect him to whisper, but he makes sure everyone can hear. “Remind me later to tell you about this dream I had about you . . . me . . . a—”

Foster smacks the back of Miles’s skull. He points a rigid finger at Miles, who chuckles in response. “Watch yourself.”

Leigh adds another love tap on the back of his head. “Seriously. Can you not be that guy for five minutes?”

“Not even if you paid him in porn,” I say. “Believe me. I have tried.”

Everyone laughs, even Farrah, who has been trying to ignore us from Miles’s other side. Well . . .

Almost everyone.

Noah clears his throat, and the sound is enough to strip all traces of humor from everyone’s face. “Eyes up here.” He holds up the invitation given to him by Declan a while ago in his office. “I have a way to find the cloning facility,” he says, and taps the envelope against his palm. “Once we find it, I want to blow it off the map. We’re only getting one shot to make it count.”

 • • • 

Over the following two weeks, we plan down to the most insignificant detail the mission to take place at the Fire and Ice Masquerade Ball. Noah will take Leigh as his “hired escort,” much to Farrah’s obvious disappointment; at least it was to me. Based on my observations, she watches Noah on a more than professional level. But what woman in her right mind would not? Noah is beyond attractive; his confidence alone is enough to snag positive attention.

Miles and Farrah will attend as guests Landon and Opal Winchester, personal friends of a particular board member who happens to be out of the country for the next two months.

Leigh’s only job is to provide backup to Miles and Farrah so Noah will not have to. The whole purpose behind Noah “renting” his date is to avoid any personal involvement with her. It will not look good for him if Leigh is caught, but at least there will be no obvious direct link to the resistance.

Because the ball will be held inside Burke Enterprises, utilizing an entire floor and the majority of the building’s security, Miles has the rare opportunity to access Declan’s servers. In them, we hope to find the location of the cloning facility. Maybe even prove they are cloning girls in the WTCs.

Reid, Foster, and I have no involvement the evening of, except to provide visual support from the hub and to help organize the details beforehand. I sit quietly during the planning stages because they need me only on the off chance they have a question about Declan—his habits and reactions.

The weeks pass quickly, and I am so caught up in my new schedule, searching for my parents, and spending time with Adrienne that I manage to squeeze out of following through with Dr. Malcolm’s tests. I tell myself every day to get them over with. That I should do it for Leigh. But the more I think about what he said about the EM balance, the more I fear the results. What if there is something wrong with me?

You are perfect,
Dr. Travista’s voice reminds me.

I want to believe him, and I would if not for the abyss that calls to me every night. If not for the fact that these dreams started the night She died.

The day arrives, and everyone is tense. There is so much riding on getting this one thing right—much to Leigh’s disappointment. If this works, she will not have to be cloned. I know she will do her job, and do it well, but I wonder if it has crossed her mind to make sure it does not.

I wait in the command center for everyone to arrive. Farrah enters first and looks absolutely stunning. Her red dress is held in place high at the neck by a choker necklace and drapes smock-like to the floor, leaving her shoulders bare.

Underneath she wears a waist cincher that holds tools she may need to get into Declan’s office. The front of the dress parts up the center and gives her easy access to them if need be.

Around her thigh she has strapped a leather garter for her gun, a knife, and a tiny canister of aerochlor. The only straps showing are the silver ones that circle up her ankles and calves from her heels.

No one will know how thoroughly armed she is, and I know only because I saw the items laid out for her just this morning.

Noah comes in behind her wearing a tailored tuxedo. While the ball is red-and-white themed, he wears black pants with a white shirt, white jacket, and white bow tie. He catches me staring like a fool, and a grin twitches his lips. It is a good thing I am not walking, or I might have tripped over my jaw.

I do, however, stumble over my words in an attempt to recover. “Wow. You look . . . really great.” “Great” is not the best word choice, but “undeniably sexy” seems inappropriate given our tense relationship.

Miles arrives and I am not at all surprised to find he dared a red jacket and bow tie over his white shirt and black pants. “I dare you to try and use the word ‘great’ on me,” he says, popping the ends of his shirtsleeves. He bathes me in his naturally sexy grin and winks.

“Daring me just earned you a ‘great’ too,” I say with a chuckle, grateful for the distraction. “Maybe even a
just okay.
”

He feigns stabbing himself in the heart. “That’s just wrong, Wade. So, so wrong.”

Reid taps Farrah on the shoulder. He hands her a white half mask with beaded strings hanging chin length from the bottom. White ribbons hang from the sides and will tie around her head. The white masks he gives to the men are half as well, but with little to no embellishment.

“We should go,” Noah says. He glances around. “Leigh isn’t here yet?”

Everyone looks around except Reid, who says, “She still has another ten minutes. I’ll send someone to make sure she’s almost ready.” He snaps at an analyst nearby who was listening in. The guy runs out of the command center without pause.

“Okay,” Noah says, “but she
has
to meet me outside no later than eight fifteen.”

This part of the plan has been drilled and drilled some more. Noah is meeting someone beforehand and will pick up his “date” outside the building. Farrah and Miles are leaving now, teleporting to a spot across town where they will meet a car to drive them over. Noah, who is leaving from his office upstairs, is taking another route. No one is allowed to teleport directly into the building for safety and security reasons.

I give Farrah a hug and wish her luck. Miles hugs
me,
then tilts me back in a romantic gesture that I swear is calculated to be a test on Noah’s patience. These last two weeks have been full of situations like this, but only in front of Noah.

For half a second I believe Miles will actually kiss me, causing my heart to stampede in my chest. Instead, he grins and taps his nose to mine before hauling me back up and making my head spin.

“All right,” Noah says in a near growl. He glances between me and Miles, frowning. “Playtime’s over. Let’s go.”

“Good luck,” I tell Noah, and his attention stops on me.

“Thanks.”

The three of them take off, and since I am not needed for another half hour, I decide to go say good night to Adrienne. I head for Sonya’s room, where Adrienne will be staying the night, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. Sonya is expecting me, but this does not make sitting in the same room with her any easier. Especially while I read Adrienne her bedtime story—the same one I have read every night for a week now in Noah’s room. He has been stepping out to give us time together, or maybe he needs to avoid being alone with me. Regardless, this will be my first time with an audience.

The door to Sonya’s room slides open after one knock. She is moving aside to let me enter when Foster comes racing down the hall, yelling my name. Sonya walks out with Adrienne sitting on her hip, eyebrows pinched.

Foster slides to a stop near us, his chest heaving on deep breaths. “Damn heels. Went down some stairs. The guy threw the football too long and hit her.”

“Hit who?” Sonya and I ask at once. Adrienne rocks on Sonya’s hip, trying to get free, but Sonya has a practiced death grip on her.

“Leigh,” Foster says. “Think she broke a hip or a leg or something. Screaming like she’s dying.”

Sonya and I race down the hall behind Foster and end up in the hospital wing, where Leigh curses in such a sharp tone that Adrienne slaps her palms over her ears. A comical cringe screws up her little face. Reid has a bunch of doctors racing around, and Sonya passes Adrienne to me so she can examine her patient.

Reid points to me with a straight arm. “You. Strip out of that uniform.”

I start in surprise. Did he just ask me to
strip
? “Excuse me?”

He ignores my question. “Birmingham, take the kid. Someone get this dress off her”—he points at Leigh, who lies squirming in a red dress, then to me—“and onto her. Now. We have less than five minutes to get her out of here.”

I am speechless as everything happens around me too fast to keep up. Someone else has Adrienne, because Foster is yanking my jacket off from behind. Somehow I get out of my boots and clothes, giving little thought to the fact that I am surrounded by men. My mind races around the fact that Reid is sending me to the Fire and Ice Ball.
Me.
In the same room as
Declan.

Dread pools cold in my stomach as reality sinks in. “You cannot seriously mean to send me to the ball. I could be recognized.”

Reid scowls as if I am dense. “You’ll have a mask.” He turns to shout, “Someone get me a wig. Blond. And where are those masks? We need one with full facial coverage.”

“This is insane,” I mutter, and race to hold up my bra, which someone has just unclasped with no warning.

“If you have a better idea, I’d love to hear it,” Reid says, taking the dress someone passes to him. “You’re the only other woman capable and knowledgeable enough to run this mission. You don’t go, we could fail, and that’s a fact.”