“I was attacked on the beach. I ran, ducked into an alley, and met you guys. Then I must have passed out.” Or been knocked out by whatever Simon or Vincent shot me with.
She tried to push out of his arms. He squeezed her tighter, and she finally surrendered to his overpowering strength.
The African American man gasped. “You don’t remember --”
“Derrick,” the sandy-haired male cautioned. “Let’s get Doc to take a look at her.”
“Oh, come on, Hale. You can’t be telling me she doesn’t remember taking three --”
“Derrick, shut the fuck up,” the man holding her growled. Literally growled.
“That’s just not right,” Derrick grumbled. “Talk about love ’em and leave ’em.”
“Derrick,” Hale snapped. “Put a sock in it.”
“Or a foot,” the gray-eyed man said. “Ace usually goes with the foot.”
“Up yours, Zack,” the Native American returned.
Caught in the byplay, it was a moment before Caitlyn realized they’d begun moving again. She continued to study the men around her, curious that she didn’t sense a threat from any of them. She’d always had a decent sense of others, but now, she could almost guarantee none of these men would hurt her. A woman’s intuition times twenty.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that all five of them were heart-stoppingly attractive. Not pretty by any stretch, they all possessed a certain quality, a raw readiness and strength that she found particularly striking. None more so than the man carrying her.
“I got the other names. Who are you?” she asked quietly.
“Roane.”
“Our fearless leader,” Hale said with a grin. “He’s a good man to have on your side.”
“Or inside you,” she thought she heard Derrick mutter.
One look from Roane, and Zack and Ace grabbed Derrick, pulling him behind.
“We’ll meet you inside,” Zack said, glaring at Derrick.
Hale opened a small, wall-mounted box next to the door, revealing a keypad. He punched in several numbers, and a lock released. Pushing open the large oak door in front of him, he waited for Roane. Before they entered, Caitlyn scented salt in the air.
“Are we by the ocean?”
No one answered her. They moved into a homey entryway, which led into a large family room. Plush, coral-colored cushions lay on the wicker furniture. Two sofas faced each other over a glass table. Photographs of the men together and apart decorated the mantle of a white-tiled fireplace. A young woman and an older man were also in several of the photos…sitting at least twenty feet away from where they stood. How the hell can I see that far?
Roane chose that moment to turn down a hallway. He caught her closer to his chest, and heat gathered between her legs. Startled, she studied him, intrigued by his innate sensuality. He remained oblivious to her scrutiny, and she reluctantly turned her attention back to her surroundings.
By all appearances, they’d entered someone’s home. A large home, but a residence all the same. They walked past several bedrooms and what looked like a study. At the end of the hallway sat a wide oak door. The master bedroom, maybe?
To the left of the door was a placid watercolor, a nicely done rendition of the dunes of Cape May, according to the footnote at the bottom, which she shouldn’t have been able to see from so far away. They approached the door. Hale lifted the picture to reveal another keypad. More beeps and then the door opened, the sound of air hissing like a pressure lock.
Growing more nervous, Caitlyn flinched when Roane’s large palm eased her head against his chest. “Easy,” he murmured, and like that, she felt better.
They entered a roomy, steel-walled elevator. After moving down what felt like several stories, the elevator stopped, and they exited into a sterile hallway. Rooms lined both sides of the passage, some walled in glass, some not. What looked like lab equipment and computers crowded each room. Clean, blue ceramic floor tiles, cheery yellow walls, and overhead inset lights lent the entire space a professional, yet comfortable, atmosphere -- the total opposite of Pearson Labs’ oppressive pea green walls, stark gray cement floors, and flickering fluorescent lights. The rooms in which Caitlyn had been tested reminded her of torture chambers, though that could have been due to the labs’ less-than-friendly scientists.
To her surprise, all the rooms here remained empty save one, the one they entered.
“Caitlyn.” A handsome, gray-haired man smiled at her. His blue eyes twinkled behind gold-rimmed glasses. He wore slacks and a dress shirt under an oversized lab coat, all covering a wiry frame. “Welcome to the compound. I’m Doc.” Roane set her down gently. She wobbled on her feet, clutching at his arm so as not to fall on her face. Weakness invaded her limbs. She felt not at all herself but managed a shaky smile.
“Thanks. I think.”
Muttering under his breath, Roane took her in his arms again and deposited her on the lab table in the center of the room. He didn’t immediately let go, but trailed his fingers down her arms to her hands, where he swept his thumbs over her palms. Had she not known better, she’d swear he was purring. She felt possession in his touch, and the rightness of it confused her.
“You two can go.” Doc motioned Roane and Hale to the door. Neither man moved. Doc raised his eyebrows. “Problem?”
Roane scowled and slowly stepped back from Caitlyn. “We’ll be down the hall if you need us,” he said, more to her than to Doc. Then he stalked off before anyone could say a word.
“That’s what I didn’t say before,” Hale said cryptically, glanced at Caitlyn, then followed Roane out the door.
When Caitlyn shifted her gaze from the door to Doc, he was watching her.
“Can you explain what’s happening to me?” Caitlyn meant the events of the day, but Doc answered her with a much more detailed version than she’d wanted.
“My pleasure.” He pulled up a swivel stool and began. “From the notes I’ve gathered, your father served ten years in the army special forces before he was killed.”
“Yes.” Her family had been coming to pick her up from a weekend at the labs when they’d been hit by a semi. What did that have to do with the PPA and this venture down the rabbit hole?
“During his military days, your father underwent the typical vaccinations of a basic entry workup. But he also received a little something extra that manifested in you, Caitlyn.”
“Come again?”
“Your father was given a particular enzyme that stimulates brain development, particularly in areas of the cerebellum and in the limbic system. The cerebellum plays a vital role in joining sensory perception and motor control. The limbic system includes such vital areas as the hypothalamus, the amygdala, and the olfactory bulb, which you Circs tend to use almost exclusively when --”
“Doc, stop. You’re giving me a headache. What does all this mumbo jumbo have to do with my father?”
Doc flushed. “Sorry. Your father was given an experimental drug, unbeknownst to him.
Out of everyone dosed with that particular ‘vaccine,’ only one percent of the soldiers experienced any aftereffects.” He sighed. “You happen to be one of those aftereffects.”
“How so?”
“According to Pearson Labs, you possess the ability to secrete a powerful pheromone. Is this true?”
“Yes, but that ability went away years ago.”
“Did it?” Doc asked quietly.
“I thought it had. The lab kicked me out, said I no longer held any interest to them. To be honest, I was glad. The experiments using my ‘pheromones,’ as you call them, used to give me a whopper of a headache. The tests became less and less fun and more and more draining.”
“So they kicked you out.”
“Yes.”
Doc took off his glasses and rubbed the lenses with a corner of his white coat. “Elliot Pearl had high hopes that you would be the one to bridge the gap. You see, you were his first Circ, what we call people who have doctored abilities far beyond normal men and women.” The skin on Caitlyn’s forearms rippled, and she swore in astonishment.