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“Is CommTECH still searching for them?”
“Striker, yeah. They think she’s dead.”
Since the imprisonment in La Paz, Miriam Shepherd’s team had been turning over every stone in their path looking for information on Striker. She was desperate to get her hands on him, which set off all kinds of alarm bells. The kind that made the team think their leader had somehow given them away.
He stared at his friend, willing him to fully reenter the world. They needed him. “The Mercer twins are running the hunt.”
Doc reeled back on his heels. “Then we can’t let Striker out of the Red Zone. The world needs to think he’s dead along with his woman.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem right now. We can hardly get him to leave her bed, let alone the zone.”
“But later, when…”
Yeah, none of them wanted to talk about what would happen when she eventually slipped away. But that didn’t stop Mace from planning. Somebody had to be ready to contain Striker when he lost his mind and went after CommTECH.
“Doc!” Striker shot to his feet. “Doc! Get in here!”
They ran into the room. Striker was leaning over Friday, his hands shaking as he gently held up her limp arm.
“What is it?” The medic was at his side, Mace behind him.
“Look.” Their team leader elevated the scientist’s arm slightly, turning it so that the inside of her bicep was visible.
“What the hell?” Mace snapped. His eyes shot to Striker’s. “That wasn’t there yesterday.”
“No.” His voice trembled. He couldn’t take his eyes off Friday’s arm. “What does it mean?”
The three men stared at the tiny tattoo on the inside of the woman’s arm.
It was a perfectly coiled rattlesnake.
A diamondback.
A baby diamondback.
“I need blood samples.” Doc’s voice shook. “I need to check something.” He rushed off to get the equipment he needed.
Striker leaned over Friday and kissed her lips. His touch was so gentle that it made Mace ache for something he knew he’d never have and had never thought he wanted.
“You’re coming back to me, aren’t you, bébé?” he whispered.
Mace cleared his throat and took a step away from the bed. He felt as though he was intruding. This moment was private, just for them.
Doc came running back into the room. He unhooked the IV line running to the bag of fluids above Friday’s bed and attached a vial to the cannula. They watched it fill with blood. Once he had all he needed, he hooked the IV line back up to her arm.
“I need your blood, too, boss,” he said to Striker.
“Why?” Striker asked, which was evidence of just how exhausted the man was.
“Seriously?” Mace said. “You are beyond sleep deprived if you don’t know the answer to that question. There’s a baby snake on your woman’s arm. That shit had to come from somewhere. Guess who’s the prime suspect? Lack of sleep has made you stupid. Give Doc your blood.”
With a growl of irritation, Striker stuck out an arm, the other hand still
stroking the image of the baby snake. “You think I infected her? How? Kissing her? Having sex? I’ve had sex with other women since I woke up. Far as I know, none of them have snakes.”
Now that comment was like a kick in the gut. If having sex meant infecting women, then Mace hated to think what he’d left in his wake. When he’d first woken up, he’d anesthetized himself to the shock of being in a new century by sleeping his way through most of Texas.
“Don’t be an idiot. We aren’t infectious. This is something else. Something new.” Doc put the vials on the table behind him. “Help me get her undressed. I need to check her skin.”
