The Impossible Alliance (20 page)

“Yes, but I was wrong about the amount. So is modern science. There's at least another gram in that stone. I also forgot to mention that astatine is the most radioactive element known to science. Our science. But there's something else besides the astatine in that crystal. Trace elements that don't match anything I've seen before. There's at least one new chemical element in that crystal, perhaps two. Karl wasn't sure and neither am I. I'd have to examine the stone. But I do know that the presence of those particular elements are allowing the astatine to bind with the chromium and corundum in unusual ways—very unusual ways.
Jared?
”

Something in the way she whispered his name drilled straight up his spine. “Yeah?”

“Do you know what a ‘flash lamp pumped laser' is?”

He flipped through his memory, dragged the corresponding file to the fore. According to a spread
American Scientist
did five years ago, a flash lamp pumped laser was simply a laser that used ruby rods as its operating medium. But also according to the magazine, ruby lasers weren't very powerful.

Until now?

“Alex, are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“That depends on what you think I'm saying.”

“That this particular ruby, with that particular combination of extra elements, will be able to power one hell of a laser?”

She nodded slowly.

His air bled out. “But that's not what you were saying.”

She shook her head.

“Spell it out, sweetheart. You're out of my league.”

She took a deep breath and turned to the next page in
the spiral notebook. To the last diagram he'd sketched. She tapped the center with the tip of her finger. “A ruby laser fueled by rods made from this particular crystal will be powerful enough to take out satellites in outer space. General DeBruzkya will have his very own, very private, deadly effective star wars.”

She closed the notebook and leaned back against the headboard, staring across the room.

The overhead light flickered as if on cue. Underscoring the sudden precariousness of their mission, of the entire blasted world order. A new world order. The likes of which had never been seen, much less contemplated before. Not by men with a conscience. With that much power at his disposal, Bruno DeBruzkya would see that the ancient legend come to pass. He would truly own the world. And then it hit Jared. What had already hit Alex.

Karl Weiss hadn't sold her out. The man had been hoping like hell his friend, his connection, would be able to figure out a way to get him and that gem out of Rebelia for good.

But there was more.

The relatively lax security at Veisweimar castle, Sokolov's willingness to kill Karl before the laser had even made it past the sketch stage in a scientist's notebook, the fact that Karl himself had supposedly lured her into the deadly trap and then tried to warn her with his very last breath.

“DeBruzkya doesn't know what he's really got, does he?”

Her eyes glistened as she shook her head. “Nope.”

The notes were written in two different languages DeBruzkya and his thugs didn't speak. Delmonican and chemical. DeBruzkya's ignorance was easy to understand. Jared didn't speak the languages, either. But at the moment, the second scientist who'd been invited into that makeshift lab, however unwillingly and unknowingly—Alex is Hatch
Warner, aka Alex Morrow—was speaking a language he did understand. In fact, she was screaming it.

Silently.

The piercing agony of losing someone she'd truly cared about. The all-consuming fear of not knowing if that person had realized before it was too late that, in the end, she had understood. She had forgiven.

Jared closed the file he'd created and shut down the computer. When the screen went blank, he leaned forward and set the laptop on the nightstand. He carefully loosened the spiral notebook from Alex's pale arms, stopping to unhook the crimped end of the wire as it snagged at the V of the sea-green sheath still clinging to her curves. He ignored the brief glimpse of perfection itself as he dropped the notebook to the floor and leaned forward again, this time to smooth the tears from her cheeks. “It's okay, honey. He knows.” Oh, God, those eyes.

“Does he?”

He tucked her curls behind her ears. “Sure he does. Karl was your friend, Alex. He knew you.”

“No, he didn't. Karl didn't know me at all.” Her shrug was almost helpless, the soft twist to her lips beyond sad as her shimmering, reddened stare met his square on. “Neither do you.”

What on earth was she talking about? Of course he knew her. And she knew him. Better than anyone did. He didn't care how many days they'd spent together. She knew him better than Sam Hatch or his own mother had known him. But when she shook her head, the fear slipped in. The almost blinding panic. She had concealed something. But what?

“Alex…what are you trying to tell me?”

The fear locked in as the silence dragged out. Her throat began to work. He glanced down at her hands. She'd bunched the stretchy fabric into her hands so tightly, her knuckles were stark white against the green. He might be afraid, but she was absolutely terrified.

“Sweetheart?”

For some reason that seemed to help. She managed to draw a deep breath, even managed to loosen her fingers slightly. “I need to tell you some—” Another breath, this one achingly shallow. “Well, it's, ah, not something I can say. Or, well, something I seem to be able to say, so I'm…just going to show you. Okay?”

He forced himself to sit there. To not reach out and grab her and haul her close. To let her do whatever it was she seemed determined to do—while he prayed.

“Sure.”

She sucked in another breath. Unlike her last, this one seemed to reach all the way to her toes. Then she slowly raised her hand. At the base of her neck, she skirted her hand to the side. There she reached up and fingered the lobe of her right ear. Funny, until that moment he hadn't realized they weren't pierced. He shoved the observation aside as her fingers lingered, as the terror in her hands finally locked into her eyes.

The hell with this. He reached out—

But her hand was gone, and…so was her ear.

Completely.

Cleanly.

The side of her face wasn't marred in any other way, or in any way at all. Her entire right ear was simply
gone.
It was as if the cartilage had been neatly trimmed down until its edge was almost flush with the smooth skin of her face. He dragged his gaze to hers as he struggled to absorb the sight.

The naked shock.

She simply shrugged. “Welcome to the real freak show. Front row, center seat.”

T
he second that word came out of her mouth, Jared snapped out of it. A millisecond after that, he realized what was really going on. Alex wasn't terrified. And she sure as hell wasn't waiting, calmly or otherwise. She was dying. And it was his silence that was killing her.

So he said the only thing he could. The truth.

“I want my money back.” He anticipated her flinch, whipping his own hand up and grabbing hers before she could raise it again, before she could return what had to be Harold Blaine's most amazing masterpiece yet. He leaned close. Close enough so she couldn't escape. Close enough so there would be absolutely no mistake. “I want my money back because I don't see a freak.”

She didn't say a word.

But the tears had returned. With a vengeance. His hands still locked to hers, he leaned forward, this time, smoothing the silent rivulets with his lips.

She stiffened. Almost imperceptibly, but it still tore through him, through his heart. Especially as she pulled
away to slip her hand into the leather bag she'd tucked at the side of the bed before she'd fallen asleep earlier. The one he now knew why she never seemed to be far away from. It wasn't the bag. It was the gold vial she withdrew from within. That's what the adhesive he'd noticed when he'd located the manifest was for. What that box had been for.

Her on-again, off-again, on-again hypersensitive hearing made sense now. Perfect sense. Given just how powerful her hearing was, he'd lay odds the entire outer ear was a cleverly disguised microphone array. Harold Blaine was truly brilliant.

And Alex was absolutely beautiful.

He closed his hand over hers before she could open the vial and apply it. “It's not necessary. You don't have to wear it.” While they were on the job, yes. But not here. Not now.

Not while they were alone.

“Yeah, I do.” She shrugged. “Harold designed it for Sam—for me—when I was a kid. I've been wearing it so long I guess it's become a part of me.” He waited for her to open the gold vial and apply the adhesive, then waited as she reattached the prosthetic and turned to slip the vial back in her bag. The moment she finished, he slipped his fingers into hers, knitting their hands securely, intimately. Then he leaned forward, closer than he had before.

“Alex?”

“Yes?”

“I want to become part of you, too.”

He anticipated the smile, had even prayed for it. But not the impish gleam in her eye. “You sure I'm not just a charity—”

“Don't even say it.”

Her smiled grew. “Good.”

It was. And it was about to get better. He had no idea what tomorrow would bring and he refused to waste another second on what he knew lay beyond. Not tonight.
Tonight was for her and for him. For them. He smiled into her grin, determined to keep it light. At least one of them was going to walk away from this bed with one hell of a memory. He owed her that much.

He loved her even more.

“Wait right here. Don't move a single muscle.”

Her smile broadened. “Okay.”

“You moved.” Jared rose from the bed and turned his back on that playful tongue sticking out at him. He'd get even soon enough. For now, he had a mission. And that mission started with a locked door—because nothing and no one, host included, would interrupt them this time. He pulled the bedroom door shut and threw the lock.

Loudly.

She laughed as he turned around. He tugged the shirt to his tuxedo out of his pants and released the remaining studs one by one as he returned to the bed. Alex mirrored his eager preparations, pushing the blanket off those long, gorgeous legs and swinging her bare feet to the floor.

“You moved again.”

She shrugged. “Some men can't draw. I can't follow orders. Bad, bad agent.” She disobeyed a third time, stretching as she stood, causing him to fumble the final stud on his shirt.

“Do that again.”

“Do what?” She caught his stare and followed it to her own body, down to the exact spot that had captured his attention.

The V.

The edges of the dress had parted far enough during her stretch to expose nearly all of her left breast to his greedy gaze. Hell, he could see the base of her nipple as it puckered beneath his stare. He tried very hard not to groan—and failed.

She grinned. “I get it. I mean, most men are pretty visual. I managed to pick that up even before I became one myself. But something tells me that a man who can freeze-
frame any sight he wants is probably a bit more sensitive to whatever's currently in front of the naked eye….”

He didn't respond. He couldn't. He swallowed another groan, instead.

The tempting witch knew exactly what she was talking about. And she definitely knew exactly what she was doing. He stood there, frozen, four feet from that bed, four feet from
her,
as Alex lifted her hands and hooked her fingers beneath the shoulders of that clingy fabric. His next groan tumbled out in perfect time with the excruciatingly slow peel that followed. Soon he was staring at the creamy upper curves of those amazing and achingly feminine breasts.

But there, she stopped.

He held his breath in anticipation as she pulled her hands away, waiting for the fabric to fall down on its own accord, nearly cursing in frustration as that blasted clingy fabric did what it did best. Clung. In all honesty, the dress might have ceded to his fervent desire if her nipples hadn't hardened beneath his gaze, thrusting up just enough to snag and hold the edge of the silky right
there.
He swallowed firmly.

“Like what you see?”

Oh, yeah.

She grinned. “Cat got your tongue?”

No, something else had latched on to it and refused to let go. But he still had command of his feet. He used it, closing the distance. Bringing his aching body, his aching palms within inches of that fabric and what puckered beneath.

She stepped back.

His hands shot out instinctively, closing about her arms before she could take another step. “Not so fast, sweetheart.”

“I was just going to finish the show.”

“I appreciate the consideration. Truly, I do.” He lowered his mouth to her ear, the one he knew would be able to pick up the raw anticipation he couldn't quite keep from his voice. “But we're partners, honey. A team. And, as
someone once told me, partners work together. Now, I also hope you enjoyed the show as much as I did, because it's time to get ready for act two.” He dipped his head lower and bathed her lips with the red-hot desire burning through him. That lush, bottom curve, the top, the intoxicating seam in between, over and over until they finally parted on a husky moan.

Still he waited.

He drew a lazy circle between her soft lips and her hard, slick teeth. It was his turn to chuckle softly as she tangled her fingers in his hair and used the strands to pull him close and hold him there. He relented for a few sizzling seconds and then withdrew again, sliding his mouth down the endless column of her throat until the heady, salty sheen drove him back up. He nipped the throbbing pulse beneath her jaw, then dragged his mouth down to the scarlet mark he'd left behind two days before in this very room. He traced the outer edge with the tip of his tongue, then soothed it with the flat. By the time he returned to her lips, her shaky breath mingled with his.

This time Alex didn't wait for him.

She invaded his mouth, sliding her tongue along the length of his, enticing him into her own mouth on a decadent promise.

He followed. Delving deeper and deeper, until he could think of nothing but tearing off that damned dress and sinking onto the mattress behind them, sinking into her. Her nimble fingers returned to the waist of his trousers and deftly unhooked the catch. The soft rasp of his zipper hauled him back to his senses. He closed his hands over hers a split second before she tugged his pants down. “Uh-uh. It's still my turn.”

He pulled away just far enough to hook his fingers into the sea-green fabric that was surprisingly still clinging to the curves of her breasts. Then again, not so surprising. There was more than enough to hold it there. He trailed his
fingertips across her skin, tracing the curves, mesmerized by the sight of her creamy skin against his darker skin.

“Hurry,” she begged, “before I faint.”

He chuckled. “Oh, darlin'. My memory's not so far gone I can't remember basic first aid. Then again, we should probably make sure.” He stared at the shock in her eyes that he could joke about it. It amazed him, too. But not as much as his determination to live in the moment. He'd spent his whole blasted life dreading the future. Right now, he intended on glorying in the moment. In her.

He slid a finger across her bottom lip. “I vote we start here, with mouth-to-mouth.” He dipped his head before she could argue and plundered at will, stealing her breath and giving it back within a slow, drugging kiss. He captured her hands as they inched back to his waist. “You know, I bet I can still take a pulse, too.” He grazed his lips over her wrist, dampening the flesh, then drying it with a puff of air. He reveled in the shiver that spread up her arm as he bent his head again.

“Not bad,” she conceded, her breath coming in soft and shallow.

Jared chuckled. She was definitely getting into the spirit of it. She was holding up remarkably well, too. His own restraint was dwindling rapidly. Careful to keep his gaze locked on hers, he trapped her hands behind her back with one hand and tugged one side of that annoyingly resilient fabric past her left breast, the other past her right. He released her arms just long enough to peel the fabric past her wrists, then trapped her hands again. “I still remember my pressure points, too.” He peeled the fabric over her flat belly and trailed a finger across her inner thigh. “In fact, there's one right about here.”

He made the mistake of looking at her body then, at all that long, lean, sinfully smooth flesh enhanced by a single wispy triangle of cloth. His first thought was that he'd have to kill Marty for even knowing it existed. His second was that he thoroughly approved. Mint-green and unadorned,
the panties shimmered in the light flickering from the ceiling, catching it and highlighting her curves, setting him aflame.

Unable to stop himself, he skimmed his palms over the silky mound. She arched into his hands, drawing him back to the game at hand. Anticipation fired his blood as he knelt before her. He slipped his fingers between her thighs, rasping them higher and higher until he reached her panties. She moaned as he dipped his head and latched onto the inner seam with his teeth, tugging it aside and branding a kiss in its place.

“How am I doing so far, Doc?”

Alex struggled for air as Jared grinned up at her. To hell with renewing his medic's certificate. If the man kept this pace up, she'd have to award him the whole damn medical degree. She took another shaky breath. “Your technique is truly amazing,
Dr.
Coleman.”

Jared's grin was downright lecherous as he rose to his feet and trailed a finger from the hollow at the base of her neck to the valley between her breasts. “Oh, darlin', just wait'll you catch a glimpse of my bedside manner.”

Liquid heat poured through her as he finally released her hands to slide both of his beneath her breasts, cradling them in his palms as if savoring their weight. Starting at the tops, he traced his fingers around the swells with incredible slowness. All the while she knew what he was doing. Knew that those amber eyes were taking picture after picture, freezing them, hoarding them in his brain so he could drag them out later. Finally, mercifully, his hands were underneath. He cupped her breasts again, this time pushing them up and together as he dipped his head. She sucked in her breath as he drew a line of wet fire back and forth between the tips, over and over until she was certain she was going insane.

She pressed herself into his mouth, silently pleading with him to fulfill the fantasy she'd been obsessed with since that night they'd first run into each other in her uncle's
home. A shudder escaped her as he finally latched onto a nub and worried it between his teeth. Within seconds the fantasy had been seared away, allowing a magnificent, glorious reality to consume her.

She moaned. Unable to bear the sweet pain a moment longer, she reached out for his trousers again, determined to rip them from him in shreds if she had to. She peeled the zippered edges down, sucking in her breath as he sprang forth. His sharp inhalation echoed her own as she reached out and slid a finger down his thick, jutting shaft. Mesmerized, she drew it slowly up, savoring the hoarse catch in his breath as it grated through her right ear. The blunt tip jerked up as she caressed his smooth skin. She wanted—no, needed—to hold him in her hands, to squeeze him.

She gave in.

He captured her gaze then, and they both knew the time for teasing and gentleness had passed. Seconds after she grasped him, he sucked in his breath and jerked back to shuck his pants. A deep growl rumbled in his chest as he tossed them after her underwear. Two seconds later she was flat on her back, wrapped in his arms, reveling in the rock-hard muscle covering every inch of him as he pressed kiss after kiss on her mouth, her chin, her neck, her breasts and everywhere in between.

Desperate to finish her quest, she reached down between them and closed a hand around him, forging steel beneath her fingers as she slid them up and down his length. His hot breath and hoarse grunt carved out a hole in the pit of her stomach, causing her to clutch him tighter and quicken her pace. He grabbed her bottom and sealed her against him, rubbing his shaft over her, again and again. Just when she thought she was going to die from frustration, he reared up and cupped his hands beneath her bottom, parting her legs and tilting her hips just enough to receive him. A split second later he was deep inside her, buried farther than she'd ever thought possible, staring directly into her eyes as he touched her soul.