Torrent (Cosmic Forces Book 1) (7 page)

“
I
’m going after him
,” Alyssa said to Omar.

“I’m going with you.” Omar was on one knee, holding his arm with one hand, and his leg with the wounded one.

“No. Listen. You need to stay here, stay hidden. I’ll get you help. I have to go make sure those privateers don’t get to them.” Disgust with Omar flowed through her. “You and I will talk later.”

“I fucked up. I’m going with you.” He rose from his kneeling position.

“No. You’re bleeding too much.” She put her hand on his chest. “Just stay. Okay?” Alyssa turned away. “I have to go. Now.”

She slipped out the door, shirt flapping behind her, the balmy Houston air touching her back. She had to reach the family and warn them. Alyssa ran as fast as she could, darting past and over obstacles, keeping her eye out for the ever-wandering searchlights.

She knew of a shortcut, through the tunnels. She had a flashlight hidden there, one that only she and Jesse knew about. It was in case they needed an escape. She would have to risk someone seeing her go into the tunnels, for it would make the journey quicker and she had to beat the privateers to the apartment.

She made it to the entrance to the tunnel and pushed away a board, grabbed a light. And ran.

The tunnels led to a spot a block away from the apartment. When she reached that spot, she opened the board, scanned carefully to be sure that no one was around, killed the flashlight, shoved it in a corner and slipped out.

She hoped she was ahead of the privateers.
Not if they’re running. They have a head start.

She was out of breath. She paused, put her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

That was when she heard it: shuffling and heavy breathing behind her. Whirling around, she bit her tongue to keep from yelling.

“Omar. You idiot.”

A few paces behind her, Omar smiled, his teeth white in the dimness. “Forgive me. Please. I have to make this right. I fucked up.”

“Idiot,” she murmured again, under her breath. “Let’s go. You have to keep up on your own.”

She made it to the building and glanced behind her as she opened the door. Omar was less than half a block away. He would catch up. She ran inside and up the steps, taking them two at a time until her legs began to burn and she stumbled and fell. Catching the curse word that almost slipped out, she got up and began to run once more. This time she took the stairs one at a time.

This was it: her floor. Without pause, she ran toward their door, fumbling her way in the dark, thankful she’d kept their hallway clear of debris.

She stumbled over something, fell, landed with a thud on—

—a body?

Oh, God. No. No. No. Tears formed in her eyes.
The privateers. They did it. Oh.

She wasn’t at her door yet, so what had the privateers done? Had they brought her family out here? Chased them out here?

Sobs that she couldn’t control for long built in her chest. She didn’t want to touch her face; her hands were wet with blood.

A light flickered on. A flashlight?

It shone on her. She couldn’t see who was carrying it. She raised her hands to shield her eyes and leapt from the floor.

“Alyssa.” Jesse’s voice?

“Jesse?” She kept her voice low though she wanted to scream the horror and grief in her heart. Whose body was this at her feet?

“Who…” She didn’t want to say it.

“The privateers. They came to hurt us. Torrent intercepted them. He killed them, then came to the door to tell us where to find you. He said Omar was hurt and you were in a building on Fifth.”

Alyssa shook her head. She took the light from Jesse and shone it on the bodies on the floor. Both of the privateers. Dead.

“Gillie? The girls?”

“Safe.”

“No one heard?”

“No one came out.” Jesse shrugged. “You know how it is.”

She knew only too well. It was easier to mind your own business than risk the ire of the Leaguers, or worse, the privateers.

“Torrent?” she asked.

“He’s in my room,” Jesse said. “Not too good. He was stabbed.”

She heard a noise behind her and turned the light in that direction. Omar was leaning against the wall, making his way toward them slowly.

“What the hell happened to your leg?” Jesse pointed.

She walked away from a blabbering, mumbling, stuttering Omar and headed into the apartment, directly to Jesse’s room.

She passed a wide-eyed and tear-stained Belinda and Sonya.

“Alyssa.” Their voices were a wail.

“Go to the hallway, and take care of your brother,” she told Belinda. “Help her.” She pointed to Sonya, trying to keep her voice from being too harsh.

She passed by Gillie’s pallet, shone the light on him. She placed her hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat, something to reassure her in this night of horror. She kissed his forehead and made her way back toward Jesse’s room.

Torrent was on the bed, laid out on his back. He was almost at a position of attention. His arms weren’t by his sides, though. His arms were crossed over his torso, each hand touching the opposite shoulder.

She touched his forehead. It was too cool. Far too cool. There was a lot of blood on his chest, just under his sternum.

So much blood.

She felt for his pulse. Her fingers touched his thick neck, found the pulse strong. He wasn’t dead.

She peeled his shirt up, the fabric unyielding and wanting to stay in place, heavy with his blood. First she ran across the spot he’d shown her earlier, the one he’d sutured himself. A couple of the stitches had popped, but otherwise it seemed intact.

She raised his shirt higher and bit down on an exclamation. “This is unbelievable,” she whispered under her breath. She would need to light some candles to see better, but for now, she needed to see how bad his wound was.

There it was. A slash on his chest, over his ribs. It wasn’t a stab wound, and yet it was deep enough or had struck something enough to make him bleed quite a bit. She didn’t think that there were arteries there. Why hadn’t she paid better attention when she was learning about anatomy in school?

She pointed the flashlight at the wound. Something glinted.

Something shiny in the wound. How was she supposed to get that out? She had nothing here for surgery or medical care.

She watched his chest rise and fall with each breath. That massive chest tapered to a vee, highlighting a set of abdominal muscles that were ripped, even in repose.

There was something wrong here. All that blood. She looked at his arm. Nothing obvious there. She shone the light on the other arm.

Oh, no.
That’s where the blood was coming from. She took the pillowcase off the pillow on Omar’s bed, grabbed scissors from the drawer in the hallway, and cut the pillowcase into a long strip. A tourniquet would take care of the bleeding. She ran into the bedroom with it and set the flashlight on the table next to the bed, aiming it toward his arm.

Alyssa wrapped the tourniquet around his bicep, and was pleased to witness it stanching the flow. She picked the light up again and shone it on the wound. She couldn’t sew this up, could she? He had the materials. At least, he had earlier, because he’d sewn up the wound he had on his stomach. Where would his kit be?

She checked out the wound with the light again.
Wait a damned minute.
This one had something shiny in it, too. What was that? Had the blade broken off? Had it struck bone and broken?

She was hesitant to disturb the wound on his arm, for it was the one that had bled profusely. She moved the light to his chest. Swiveling the beam around, she found the shiny spot. Should she try to take out whatever that was? It protruded a slight bit.

Touching his skin, careful not to hurt him, she pressed it gently, trying to dislodge whatever was in there. It didn’t move.

“What the hell is this?” she muttered under her breath.

Should she wait for the light of day to figure it out?

Jesse came in, Omar following behind him.

Alyssa moved the fabric of Torrent’s shirt to cover his wound. She wasn’t ready to share what she’d found. Hell, she wasn’t sure what she’d found.

Jesse nodded toward Omar. “The round in his arm went through, came out the back. It’s not too bad. The leg, I’m not so sure about.”

“I’m fine. Just need rest,” Omar argued.

“Maybe you should take my room. That way neither one of you will disturb the other.” Alyssa lit a candle on the dresser. “I’ll go with you. I want to take a look at that leg.”

“You’re kicking up too much of a fuss.” Omar’s tone was whiny.

Alyssa was irritated with him. She wanted to spank him for behaving like a child. After all, this trouble was partially due to him. The privateers would never have known where they lived if Omar hadn’t associated with them.

“Just go.” She whirled around and headed toward the room she shared with the girls. She’d see to his needs, though a part of her wanted to kill her impetuous, hardheaded baby cousin.

T
orrent couldn’t speak
. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t move.

He could hear Alyssa talking to him. He could feel her touching him, raising his arm, tying a tourniquet. He could feel the warmth of her skin.

He couldn’t speak, see, or move because he was in R-H.

R-H was programmed into the interface. All of the Cosmic Forces had the capability of R-H, whether they wanted it or not.

R-H. Recuperation-Hibernation. The ability of the interface to shut down the Cosmic Forces team members’ functionalities with the exception of thinking, smelling, hearing, and breathing. The team members couldn’t move during RH. They shut down to recuperate.

Torrent was trapped in a body he couldn’t use or control while Alyssa prodded and poked at him. He knew she’d discovered it the second she touched part of his interior shield, designed to allow his body some protection, the moment she hissed the phrase, “What the hell is this?”

No!
he’d yelled inside his head.
Not this! No.

He was completely at her mercy now. She’d figured too much out. Would she betray him to the rest? Would they kill him? Had all the help he’d given them count for something—for anything at all? Did the fact they thought that he was Gillie’s father count for anything?

Then Jesse had come into the room, and Alyssa had covered Torrent’s wound and left.

Torrent breathed a sigh of relief inwardly and allowed hibernation to take over once more.

H
e heard
her before he felt her. He heard her come in, recognized her step. It was sunny in the room. He could tell because of the bright light that shone through his eyelids. How many hours had he been resting? When would his body be ready to awaken?

“Hey, you.” Alyssa’s voice was low. “Glad you made it through the night. Ready to share your secret with me?”

Hell, no.
As if he had any control.

A cloth, wet, room temperature, touched his face, right on his jawline. It traveled upward, and as it did, she leaned closer to him. He inhaled deeply, taking her scent in, a scent he’d come to recognize as hers, and only hers. The cloth and the hand holding it passed lovingly over his face, touching his cheekbones, his forehead.

“It’s time to wash you up a little.” Her voice was low. “Today was the day you were going to stop by and visit with your son.”

My son? Oh, yeah, that’s right. Gillie, my pretend-son for this damned mission.

“And instead, you’re lying on my brother’s bed, and you’ve saved our lives twice now. And you’re unconscious. That’s a fine reward for your efforts, isn’t it?” She moved the cloth upward. “I’m sorry.”

His breath hitched when he felt her body leaning on his to get a better reach. Her soft curves pressed against his side. As her hand traveled upward, her body went with it, leaning in to him, her breasts against his chest. The hardened peaks on her full mounds poked at his flesh, making an internal shudder pass through him. He marveled at the interface’s ability to shut this much away on the outside while the inside of him was a raging hurricane of desire. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled away, because his body was fighting the R-H and that was no way to recuperate. If anything it would slow him down. He wanted to jump up and wrap his arms around her and make her his. How much longer until he was better, damn it?

He felt her raise his shirt, then he felt a wet cloth running over his abdomen and his chest. She skirted the area of the new cut and the one he’d sewn up. He breathed another sigh of relief, thankful that she’d abandoned her quest to figure out what she’d been investigating last night. All he needed was her to find out what was inside him. What he was.

She hummed a tune, one he thought he might have heard before, but he wasn’t sure. He heard her breathing change. It picked up speed. Was that because of him? Or had she seen something? He had to know what was in her head. What was she thinking?

“Is it wrong that I’m attracted to you? My sister’s ex-something?”

Hell, no. I feel the same way.
Of all the damned times to not be able to communicate.
I want you.

With slow, circular motions, the cloth made its way across his torso. Torrent held his breath and tried to concentrate on anything but what Alyssa was doing with the cloth because it was making his pulse pound a ferociously primitive beat of lust.

You’re killing me.
He was surprised his cock hadn’t hardened to a rocklike state from her ministrations. Was the R-H controlling that? He allowed his breath to come out when she raised the cloth and her hand from his body.

“I must be the crappiest sister in the world for being attracted to my dead sister’s ex-boyfriend—lover—one-night-stand—whatever. What was she to you?”

She was nothing. How could she be? I never even met her.
How he wanted to break free of the interface and the hibernation and talk to her. The torture in her voice broke his heart. She was not only beautiful, but honest and honorable. She was as much that as any soldier he’d ever served with.

I’ve never even wanted a woman like I want you. And I don’t even know why I have these feelings. Damned interface isn’t functioning very well.
And he was glad it wasn’t. This feeling had taken over his mind and his heart, but he’d never felt so complete. Not even before Cosmic Forces, and definitely not after.

“Heaven help me for the way I feel.” Her tormented words tore at his soul.

He heard the cloth being dropped in water, then wrung out, the sound of water being squeezed out and dropping into a metal container.

He half-wanted her to continue the sponge bath; the other half wanted her to stop teasing him mercilessly.

“Be still, now. It’s secret time. I need to figure out what that thing I saw last night was.” Her voice sounded like it had tears in it. Tears? Why was she crying?

She poked and prodded at his skin.

She gasped. “Oh, god. What is this?” More prodding.

Then the sheet came up over his body and he heard her footsteps departing.

She’d given up? Or had she found out? Did she think it was part of a weapon that had broken in him? Damnation. He needed to get out of this hibernation state.