Scarlet (18 page)

Red could hear the disappointment in his voice. "I really
am
sorry. Perhaps if we'd met sooner," she added, knowing she was only making things worse. She'd never been in this position before and wasn't quite sure how to handle it. She'd made a royal mistake by giving in to her attraction. What would Morgan say when he found out? Had she just ruined the best thing that had ever happened to her?

Raphael ran a finger over her furrowed brow and smiled. "Relax, she-wolf. You were destined to be Morgan's mate. Fate would not have saved you for me."

"How do you know?"

"I've never been that fortunate," he said, but his eyes were back to twinkling mischievously.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. "There is someone out there for you. Someone who will capture your heart and refuse to give it back. I can feel it."

"Now you speak of fairy tales," he said, losing some of his bravado.

"No, I speak the truth," Red said, giving his hand a squeeze before releasing him to step inside. 'Thank you for dinner... and everything else."

"My pleasure." He inclined his head and strode into the night.

*    *    *

It was late by the time Morgan returned to the share space he'd rented. He'd stayed out longer than he'd intended with Pete. He punched in the number that he knew would connect him to Gina. She answered on the fourth beep, out of breath as if she were running to catch the call. He glanced at the time. He thought for sure she'd be asleep. His sharp gaze took in her appearance. Her hair was disheveled and her lips looked kiss swollen. Morgan's chest clenched.

"I thought I was going to wake you, but I see you're still dressed," he said. "Did I interrupt something?"

Gina blushed. "No. nothing. Dinner just ran longer than I'd expected."

"Were you alone?" he asked the question mildly, feeling anything but. Morgan watched her closely. Since he couldn't smell her, he'd have to rely on visual cues to determine if she was lying.

"I was with Raphael," she murmured.

Was that guilt he detected in her voice?
Morgan's body tensed with rage as memories from the past flooded him. He'd been engaged to Karen Martin for almost a year when he found her in a rest pad with Raphael Vega. She'd been groaning and scratching at his back, half crazed and out of her mind while he fucked her. It had taken everything in Morgan's being to walk away without killing them both.

In the end, he'd realized that Raphael had done him a favor. He needed a mate who would be loyal, even when he wasn't around. Karen was not that woman, but he'd thought Gina was. Now he wasn't so sure.

He pictured Raphael and Gina lying together. His vision clouded and his body began to shake. The wolf snapped at his haunches and snarled. Claws sprang from his fingertips. Morgan tasted blood as his teeth were ejected, replaced by long incisors made for ripping flesh off the bone. She was his mate. How dare that vamp lay a fang on her. He'd kill them. He'd kill them both if he smelled Raphael on her body. His nostrils flared as Morgan fought for control.

Gina pressed her palm to a panel on the wall and light flooded the room. The rest pad behind her came into view. It was still made, the blankets military tight. Morgan's shoulders relaxed a little and he was able to push the wolf back inside.

"When are you coming home?" she asked, ignoring the obvious changes in his appearance. "I miss you so much."

He took a deep breath. "I haven't been able to find the cells. Something weird is going on here."

"What do you mean?" Gina leaned closer to the screen.

Morgan had been so distracted by her swollen lips and tousled hair that he hadn't noticed the dark circles under her eyes or the fact that she looked like she'd lost weight. Gina wasn't holding up any better than he was. Guilt deflated the last of his anger. "I went to the place where they were supposed to be storing the cells and the new Scarlet vaccine."

"And?"

"There was nothing there."

She frowned. "What do you mean there was nothing there? They didn't have the cells?"

"I mean the space was empty. There was absolutely nothing in the locked room."

"Then why keep it locked?" she asked.

"That's what I've been wondering," he said. "It doesn't make sense."

"Maybe they moved them," she suggested.

Morgan shook his head. "No. I've been tracking the shipments and following the arrivals. That lab should've been bursting with cryonic chambers, cell-storage facilities, and work spaces for the scientists. But there was nothing there. Not even a scrap of synth-paper. The warehouse was spotless like the room had never been used."

"I don't understand," she said. "If the lab hasn't been moved, then where is it?"

"I don't know. It should've been there." He scrubbed a hand over his face.

"What are you going to do?" She crossed her arms, bracing for his answer.

"The only thing I can do—follow the employees." He blew out a heavy breath. "There's supposed to be fifty people working in there, collecting pay credits. I intend to find them."

Gina shook her head. "How are you going to do that?"

Morgan growled and pulled at his disheveled hair. "I'll go room to room if I have to."

"That's not a plan. It's suicide." Gina grew quiet, her expression distant. "Maybe it's time for you to come home. You can regroup while you come up with another plan."

Morgan met her gaze. God, how he missed her. He wanted nothing more than to return to Nuria and hold her in his arms, but he couldn't. Not until he found out what had happened to Sarah and Joshua and the missing employees. He knew there was a very good chance he'd lose her if it took much longer. He'd seen that look on a few occasions, and it always came before good-bye. But he'd come too far. Risked too much to turn back now. "I can't. Not yet anyway. Just give me a few more days. That's all I ask," he pleaded.

"You've said that before."

"I mean it this time. If I haven't found the cells by the end of the week, then I'll put in notice and head straight back to Nuria."

She swallowed hard and tears shimmered in her hazel eyes. "Please hurry. I'm not sure how much longer I can take being here all alone."

Her words echoed in his mind. Morgan bit the inside of his mouth to counter the pain he felt. She was lonely—he could hear it in her voice. See it in the lines etching her beautiful face. And he was in no position to ease her. How long before she sought out another to comfort her? He pictured Raphael biding his time and the wolf's hackles rose. "I understand," he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. "I'll be home soon."

She gave him a watery smile.

"I love you, Gina." If only he could reach through the screen and pull her into his arms. Morgan ached at the sight of her. How he'd made it this long without her, he'd never know.

"I love you, too," she whispered.

"I'll call again as soon as I can."

Her bottom lip trembled. "Don't let it take another week."

"I'll do my best, but I can't make you any promises."

She looked away and made a quick swipe at her face. Morgan looked down to give her some privacy. "I have to go now. I need some sleep," he said gruffly.

"Yeah, me, too," she said. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Have a good night," he said, staring at her for a minute more.

She laughed to herself. "Too late for that, but thanks."

Morgan disconnected the feed. He'd considered asking Gina what she meant by her comment, but he didn't think he could stand to hear the truth. Urgency spurred him on. He had to find the cells soon or there might not be anything to go home to.

chapter thirteen

Roark Montgomery sat behind his desk and hit the buzzer that would summon Michael Travers into his office. He tried to wait patiently, when he felt anything but. He stared at the communique he'd intercepted from Raphael Vega. It had been addressed to Michael, but didn't say much. Even so, the fact that it arrived right after the death of the unknown made him uneasy. It could be coincidence, but Roark wasn't willing to take that chance. He thought it best to keep the note.

His gaze dropped to a synth-document on his desk. He'd read the unknown report from the dissecting lab in Nuria. It hadn't said much. No details on how the man had died. He'd hoped for more, but all he'd really wanted to know was if the man was dead. He was. Mission accomplished. Roark grinned. Things were falling into place nicely.

Michael Travers entered the room on scurrying feet. The man didn't seem to have a normal walk; everything had to be overexaggerated and disjointed. Almost as if he'd forgotten how to move properly. Maybe he'd never learned as a child.

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" he asked, ducking his head in a curt bob like a good lackey.

"Yes," Roark said, suppressing the need to yell. Every time he was around Travers he had the overwhelming urge to beat him senseless. It had taken great restraint not to act upon those impulses. The truth was, he'd yet to find anyone else who'd do the questionable work Travers performed. If he had, he would've been gone long ago. Something about the man made him nervous. And it had nothing to do with the ease with which he could kill. Roark studied him. There was just something "off" about the man. "I have another package for you to deliver."

Travers' pasty face paled further. "Is it in the same condition as the last one?" he asked.

Roark arched a brow. "Does it matter?"

"No. I just wanted to know if I'd have to heal it before I sent it off."

Roark relaxed slightly. At least he wasn't asking too many questions this time around. "This one
is, fresher,
so all you need to do is drop it off in the same spot as the last package."

"Will I find it in the same location?" he asked, shuddering slightly.

"Unless I say otherwise." Roark pulled at the sleeves of his jacket. He was already growing weary of this conversation.

"When do you need it done?" Michael asked.

"I was thinking that now was as good a time as any. That is, if your schedule is clear. I'd hate to interfere with any of your plans." Sarcasm dripped from his words, leaving a sting of acid behind.

"I'll get right on it." Michael nodded, swaying on his miserable feet.

"What are you waiting for?" Roark bellowed. "Go!" Did he have to do everything for himself? Why was it so hard to find competent help? He was trying to make the world a better place and all around him were rejects who couldn't tie their boots without help. They would be the first to go once he came into power and rid the planet of the Others. There was no room in the world he imagined for people like Michael Travers.

Michael flushed and shuffled out into the hall. He was in such a hurry to leave he forgot to close the door behind him.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Roark called after him.

He looked back and his eyes widened before he rushed forward and quickly shut the door. "Sorry, sir. It won't happen again," he said.

*    *    *

Michael strolled down the corridor to the door that led below ground. He needed to find out what Roark was up to. He hadn't heard anything from his brother Raphael since his recent visit, but that didn't mean there weren't problems in Nuria.

He debated whether to contact him. And say what? That he suspected Roark was up to something? That was nothing new. His boss was always up to something. There was a time when he knew what most of that was, but those days were long gone. Ever since Roark was shot by Gina Santiago in Nuria, he'd shut Michael out.

Fear marched over his skin. Did Roark suspect his involvement? No, if that were the case he'd be dead already. Roark wasn't one to put off an execution. But something had changed. His boss was becoming more and more secretive, and it made Michael nervous.