Like lightning, he knocked the men flanking him into each other and blocked the informant's punch. Then he kicked one thug down and punched the other in the face. Even at this distance, Kisho recognized a broken, bloody nose.
Reynolds grabbed his informant by the back of his neck and whispered something into his ear.
The team watched as the grubby asshole nodded as if his head were on strings and apologized profusely.
“I'll be damned. Your boy can fight,” Fallon murmured.
“He's not my boy,” Kisho snapped, but he couldn't help feeling pride that Morgan had held his own. And that made no sense. Morgan was nothing to him. So why did his beast purr at the thought of the man defeating those weaker than himself? Not Morgan. Reynolds. Keep your distance.
“Fucker can fight,” Tersch offered. “I definitely think it's time we took a closer look at him. I don't like how close he's been getting to Ava and Olivia.” Jules nodded. “I want you to stick to him like glue, Hayashi.”
“Why me?”
The look Jules gave him made him more than uncomfortable. “Just do it. Think of it as an order, if it makes you feel better.”
“It doesn't.”
Tersch chuckled. “Good to know I'm not the only one you're always screwing with, Jules.” Their conversation turned to Delancey while they waited for Reynolds— Hell, now I'll have to call him Morgan—to rejoin them.
Kisho caught Jules's gaze and noted that his eyes glinted with rage. The man had a major beef with their old commander. Kisho thought Jules had a personal stake in taking the man down, because Jules blamed himself for believing in his old boss. Kisho, Fallon, and Tersch had followed Jules's lead into the Circ experiment. Not because of Delancey, but because they believed in Jules. And they'd nearly been killed because of it.
Kisho couldn't count how many of his friends and fellow sailors had died, some from a toxic reaction to the Circe serum, others from the madness that inevitably encroached on the serum survivors, while others had turned into mutants—Circs that no longer resembled anything human and had the mental capacity of nothing more than savage beasts. There was still no understanding as to why Kisho and his team had made it. Nor could anyone adequately explain why Circe's Recruits, who lived with Doc in Jersey, had come through happy and healthy. And now all the lucky bastards had mates, while the threesome had a kid and were close to giving birth to the second natural-born Circ in history. Mind-boggling.
He wondered what would become of him, if he'd ever find that same happiness the others had found. Watching Fallon with Olivia was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, Kisho couldn't be happier for Fallon. The man deserved a woman to love him, and Kisho had no doubt that Olivia loved her husband beyond words. But their closeness only emphasized how out of place Kisho was. He'd never find a woman to love him, because he didn't want a woman to love him.
He wanted a partner, a male he could respect, love, and who would be his and his alone.
Kisho remembered the conversation as if they'd had it yesterday. “Gays don't belong in the military, son. But that's not a problem for you, is it?” The knowing, disapproving look in his dad's eyes had forced Kisho to answer with an untruth. At seventeen and needing to hold on to the acceptance he'd only just discovered with his newfound father, he hadn't thought twice. He'd lied, and continued to lie, to hold on to those he loved.
“Right?” Tersch punched his shoulder.
“Ow. What?”
“I said, that vision you told us about. Delancey was there at the lab in Brazil. You remember—the one they emptied before we could get there? So what else have you seen lately?” Kisho rubbed his temple. “Not much. It's been murky. Mrs. Sharpe is pushing me to focus.” But her efforts gave him nothing but headaches. Because every time he tried to see the future, Morgan Reynolds's annoying face popped up. As quickly as he'd spy Morgan, Kisho would shut down, not wanting to dwell on a future where his team would reject him before he'd die, alone, unhappy, and in a great deal of pain.
Jules frowned. “I hate to push, but we need to know as much about Delancey's involvement as we can. We know he's somehow tied to the group trying to take out Admiral London's new project.” The psychic warriors who were to be the next step in warfare's evolution.
“What you might not realize is that the project has found success in a few other not-so-friendly places. We don't get on board fast, we're screwed.”
Kisho blinked. “How do you know?”
“Admiral London and I had a conversation the other day. The Chinese are already doing some impressive work, and the Russians aren't far behind. Strangely enough, South America has their own consortium. A handful of countries working together.” Fallon frowned. “Why would they join forces? I mean, what are the odds Brazil is going to bow to Venezuela or Ecuador? Got to be one guy pulling those strings. Like Delancey, maybe?”
“So why does he choose a drug lord from Venezuela to run his 'army?'” Tersch grumbled.
“Why not choose an in-house guy? At least someone who's native to Brazil, where the mercs seem to be coming from.”
“Venezuela borders Brazil, so it's likely he speaks the language. But we don't know enough about Montaña to guess at the connection. Maybe our new teammate can help answer,” Jules said, his expression grim. “If Reynolds can help fill in some of the blanks, he might not be such a waste of space.” The look he shot Kisho made Kisho groan.
“Okay, already. I'm in. I'll try to get the information you need so you can rip Delancey apart.” Their old commander, Captain William Delancey, had earned their trust, then betrayed them by throwing the team into the Circ project. The bastard had known the Circe serum wasn't stable, but he'd wanted only to further his political career and line his pockets with dirty money.
Now the bastard worked with Colonel Ricardo Montaña, a wild card. The South American drug dealer had connections and the means to help Delancey avoid the team. Not only that, but Montaña and Delancey were in bed in some scheme to hurt Admiral London's newest project.
Like Jules, Kisho was pissed they'd trusted the wrong man. Admiral London had stuck by them through the worst of it, and Kisho and the others intended to help him out however they could. Finding and killing Delancey, as well as Montaña, would be a step in the right direction.
Kisho glanced at Jules. He had to force himself not to flinch at the feral smile Jules gave him.
“From his neck to his goddamn cock. I'm going to rip Delancey open and make him watch as he bleeds to death.”
“Bad time to visit?” Morgan's voice preceded him. He moved with surprisingly little noise for a man his size. So fluid, so graceful. Almost like a Circ.
Kisho narrowed his eyes. Could Morgan be Circ? Olivia had come to them as a civilian, but somehow, they still weren't sure how, she had Circ genetics. If Morgan were Circ, that would certainly explain Kisho's intense attraction. How the man could move the way he did, and why thoughts of Morgan pleased his beast to no end.
No one spoke.
Morgan sighed. “I'll bite. What did I miss?”
Tersch gave Kisho an expectant look.
Fallon stared at him. “Well? Use that charm that has anyone with breasts singing your praises. In your own way, you're as bad as Reynolds. Hell, Olivia wants me to neaten up our room and write her sonnets, to get in touch with my sensitive side. I figure you owe us poor slobs.”
Kisho coughed, embarrassed at all the attention.
Morgan didn't miss a trick and directed a frown at Fallon before turning back to Kisho.
“What'd he say?”