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  “Damn civilians,” the general muttered. “This one’s a piece of work. As loony as they come.”

  The general motioned to a greenpod, and they squeezed into the small vehicle. It moved silently and quickly down the winding road through the forest. He heard the shouts before they reached the helipad atop a cliff overlooking a valley.

  A man stood near the boulders hedging the cliff, crazed as he flung his arms around and screamed. His face was red, his voice hoarse from shouting. Brady recognized him—he was another high-ranking politician in the President’s cabinet. Brady stepped from the greencar, not expecting the amount of brass and rank on the secluded mountaintop.

  Elise was there, one hand aiming the laser at the raging man with the other hand planted on Lana’s shoulder to prevent her from entering the potential line of fire. Two more black-clad protective service members with weapons drawn stood nearby, one a safe distance behind the lunatic and the other near the cliff.

  Their weapons weren’t stunners, the laser weapons capable of incapacitating a horse with one glancing shot. They carried weapons meant to kill. Brady moved forward, reaching for his own weapon as he sought to decipher the scene before him.

  “Lana, stay back!” Elise snapped, tossing a glance over her shoulder at the brunette trying to wriggle free of her. One of her arms was now wrapped around Angel’s waist.

  The man at the center of attention ceased screaming and lowered his head, panting. He wore a sheathed laser at his hip, and his hand was clenched around something small enough to conceal it from view.

  The general approached, catching Elise’s eye. He issued a hand command Brady recognized. Shoot to kill. Elise nodded in understanding.

  “Arnie?” Lana called.

  The man at the center of the circle shifted.

  “Arnie, it’s me. Can I come stand by you?”

  “Hell, no,” Elise snapped.

  “Elise, stop!” Lana cried and shoved away.

  Elise lowered her laser as Lana blocked her shot and approached the man named Arnie.

  “What’s going on?” Brady asked hoarsely, stopping beside Elise.

  “If he moves too quickly, take your shot,” Elise replied. “He shot one of my men last week. He’s psycho.”

  “Wasn’t he the former Vice Pres—”

  “Watch Lana.”

  Brady slid away until he had a shot not blocked by the brunette. Lana reached Arnie and spoke to him too quietly to hear. Brady crept as close as he dared. Elise followed his lead. He heard Arnie’s mumble, Lana’s voice, more mumbling in response. Arnie held out his fist to her without opening it.

  “Arnie,” General Greene said at last.

  The man’s head rose. His eyes were glazed, his pupils large enough to swallow the color of his irises. Drool crusted one corner of his mouth. Lana shifted, and Arnie bolted towards the cliff.

  “No!” Lana’s shout broke the tense formation around them. She darted after Arnie and snatched his belt. Elise rushed them, and Brady followed. Arnie tripped, the content of his fist flying free over the boulders to the cliff’s edge. Lana jumped over him and squeezed between two boulders, all but flinging herself towards the object.

  Elise grabbed at Arnie, who twisted free and followed Lana. He wrapped his arms around the brunette as she rose with the object in hand. Brady sheathed his weapon and leapt over the boulders, confronting the struggling duo.

  Lana squirmed in his bear hug, pushing them closer to the edge. Arnie struggled to grab her wrist. His footing slipped, and Brady’s heart dropped as he saw them careen closer to the edge. Arnie snatched the laser weapon at his hip and shoved it against her temple. Her movement stilled.

  “Give it to me, Lana!” he shouted.

  She squeezed her eyes closed without complying.

  “Arnie, you sick bastard, let her go!” Elise shouted, leaping atop the nearest boulder with her laser aimed at him.

  “I’ll finish what they started in the war!” Arnie shouted.

  “Let her go!” the general bellowed.

  Lana’s eyes opened, and she stared at Brady, emotions flying through the expressive gaze. Arnie waved the laser as Brady crept closer. Light flashed and Lana gave a strangled cry as the laser gun glanced off her wrist. Blood splattered her. Her hand opened reflexively, and Arnie released her to claw at her wrist. Lana twisted away. She fell, and Brady lunged, snatching her belt as the two went over the edge.

  Tim’s Angel was crying. Arnie clutched at her bloodied hand, too maddened to heed his danger. The belt slipped, and Brady slung an arm around her, pulling her back hard. Arnie’s weight dropped, and Lana and Brady landed in a heap.

  “Don’t drop me, don’t drop me, don’t drop me!”

  His head dropped back against the ground in relief. The woman sprawled atop him shook, her blood smearing his hands. He nudged her off and rolled onto his side. Lana curled into a ball, holding her arm to her chest. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her into his body.

  “Don’t drop me, don’t drop me, don’t drop me,” she repeated.

  He pulled her arm away from her chest. She resisted, clenching her hand hard despite her pain. Her hair smelled like vanilla, her skin of sweat and woman.

  “Lana, you fool,” Elise scolded, squatting beside them. “God, look at you!”

  Elise grabbed her wrist, but Lana resisted again.

  “Move, Elise,” the general snapped, pushing the guard commander away.

  He held out his hand, and Lana held out her wrist. He pried her fingers away, glancing up at her when she gasped in pain. Her fingers opened to reveal a keypad similar to the one Brady delivered.

  “Good girl,” the general said with a satisfied smile as he took it.

  Brady reached into a cargo pocket and pulled free an emergency bandage wrap. He gripped her trembling arm and placed the seal on her wrist. She gasped at the sudden pinch as it snapped into place, and her body went limp.

  “So ends that walking tragedy,” Elise said, standing at the cliff’s edge and peering over it.

  “He’s at peace now,” General Greene responded. “Major, take Lana to the doc and get what rest you can. You’ll report to Elise tomorrow morning.”

  Elise sheathed her weapon with a glance at him. She gave a sigh of disgust and retreated.

  “You always give me the misfits, sir,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Welcome aboard, Major.”

  The general’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Brady jostled Lana’s still body in his arms as he rose. He climbed over the boulders. One of Elise’s men was waiting with a gurney. Brady placed her on it and gripped the handle, walking towards the road. Elise fell into step beside him after checking on Lana.

  “Stupid civilian,” she muttered, though he heard the concern in her voice.

  “Who is she?” he asked.

  “She’s the Supreme Operations Specialist here on site. She controls everything, the East Coast infrastructure, the emerops depots, the recovery effort,” Elise replied. “Good woman, disciplined and smart. Greenie pushes her around.”

  “He’s the former supreme commander,” Brady said. “It’s his job.”

  “You army-types are different.”

  “What was so important she flung herself off a cliff to get it?”

  Elise gave him a sidelong glance. “Here’s a friendly warning: there are a lot of secrets up here you normal army-types don’t need to know.”

  “We’re part of your outfit now,” Brady reminded her.

  “That’s what Greenie said.”

  She said nothing more, and they strode up the winding road to the medical facilities. Brady lifted Lana gently off the gurney and entered, following Elise through the waiting area into the bay beyond. Dan lay on one bed, asleep.

  “Doc!” Elise shouted. “C’mon, Doc!”

  Brady set Lana down on a bed and stepped back. She was the opposite of Elise: delicate and sweet, quiet and soft-spoken. He brushed hair away from Lana’s pale face. Whatever the madman Arn
ie had in his hand had provoked her gentle spirit into action he would not otherwise think her capable of.

  She wasn’t the kind of woman who would ever belong in his world. Where that thought—or his sudden disappointment—came from, he didn’t know.

  “Doc!”

  “I’m here, Elise,” the same man who greeted them at the gate said with some irritation as he entered through a side door.

  “I want updates hourly,” Elise ordered.

  “I’ll contact you when she wakes,” the doctor replied, unfazed.

  Elise turned her attention on Brady. “The barracks are by the helipad by the cliff. Or do you prefer to stay with your friend?”

  He nodded.

  “All right. Hourly, doc.”

  The doctor ignored her, and Elise left.

  “Is this a laser wound?” the doctor asked, releasing the seal around Lana’s wrist.

  “Yeah,” Brady rasped.

  “It’s never something simple. Everything here is an emergency or nothing at all,” the doctor complained.

  Brady watched him clean the wound.

  “You’re filthy,” the doc said, glancing up at him. “Go back and shower in the nurses’ locker room. I can’t have you spreading any contaminants you might be carrying. You army-types are worse than Elise’s crew. You shouldn’t be here at all with all the filth you look like you’ve rolled in.”

  Brady chewed back a retort about how this particular army-type had been battling insurgents to reach them on the Peak. No one here understood that they were surrounded by an enemy even Brady couldn’t figure out yet. Unaccustomed to the abrupt treatment, he clenched his jaw and obeyed.

  Chapter Five

  LANA AWOKE LETHARGIC AND in pain. Her wrist throbbed despite the warmth in her blood caused by the sedative–pain reliever. She gazed at the soft ceiling lighting before tilting her head to see whose quiet voices she heard. The figures were blurry. She raised her injured arm, relieved to see she still had a hand.

  With a start, she realized she’d been sleeping. She had too much to do to sleep! She had to find the other keypad. If Arnie smuggled one out of the command center, he may have the remaining keys in his quarters. Lana sat up. The world spun. She shook her head and pushed herself off the bed, hugging her hurt arm to her chest. Nausea washed over her. Her surroundings blurred into light and shadows, and she felt the sickening sense of falling off the cliff again.

  “Doc!” The warbled voice was gravelly. A warm embrace caught her mid-fall over the cliff, and the scent of soap and man penetrated her bewildered senses. She sagged against the hard frame.

  Hold on, Angel.

  She couldn’t tell if the voice was aloud or in her head until she remembered that the Guardian was likely dead. He hadn’t responded to her calls in over three days. Saddened, she made an effort to stand on her own legs. The grip around her was too tight.

  Whoever kept her from falling swept her off her feet and placed her again on the hospital bed. Lana sat as soon as he released her and started to her feet again, only to feel a hand planted in her chest that pushed her onto her back.

  Warm brown eyes gazed down at her from a sun-bronzed face. He was vaguely familiar, his gaze intense. His features were chiseled, masculine and firm, his brow low and slashed with two dark eyebrows.

  Major Brady, she remembered.

  Another form crossed her vision, and she sought to make it out as well. Before her eyes could focus, pain jolted through her. Her heart bolted and her body convulsed. The fuzzy, unfamiliar world around her burst into clarity.

  “One more?” the doc asked, peering into her face.

  “No!” she managed.

  He flashed a smile.

  “God, Doc, that hurts like hell,” a male’s voice said from nearby.

  “Well, Dan, it’s good for you to know I can put you close to death. And bring you back, if I feel like it,” the doctor said, stepping away.

  “You’re a sick man, doc.”

  “Lana, hon, you okay?” the doctor asked.

  Major Brady was staring hard at the doctor, as if ready to pounce if he raised the adrenaline charge gun again. She gazed at the handsome man, unable to shake the sense she knew him somehow. He was large, as were all the genetically engineered, secretive counter-insurgency special forces in the regular army. His shoulders were broad, his chest wide, his stomach flat, his hips lean. He was one large muscle with a direct gaze that made her overly self-conscious.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  The doc helped her sit. Major Dan, a man with blond hair and dark eyes, sat in the bed across the aisle from her. He flashed a smile. Lana looked from him to Major Brady, with his darker features and hair.

  “Doc, I really have too much to do to stay here,” she said. “Can you clear me?”

  “Shut up and lay down,” the doc replied.

  The man who couldn’t speak above a whisper pushed her down, silently concurring with the doctor. Her gaze dropped to his large hand. His battle suit was rolled to his elbows, revealing roped forearms and a Thomas Jefferson quote tattooed on his inner forearm.

  All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent. She glanced up at him again, not expecting someone from the lower class and trained for battle to wear such a classic quote.

  He turned away and spoke in his broken voice to the man called Dan. Lena frowned, wondering if the doc’s adrenaline gun had overcharged her and made her hallucinate. She swore she heard the Guardian’s voice again. The doc reappeared, frowning, and armed with another medicine gun.

  “Greenie says you have to go back to work. I’ll give you a charge of—”

  Fire tore through her, and she gasped, the pain nearly driving her unconscious before it ceased.

  “Jesus, doc!” she cried.

  Warmth flowed through her, and the pain dissipated.

  “It’s better than an apple a day,” the doctor said cheerfully. “It’ll keep you from collapsing for about twelve hours. You gotta tell him you need sleep.”

  “I don’t have time,” she replied, feeling worn despite the charge. She rose with effort. Her legs were a little wobbly, and she waited for them to steady her.

  “You’ll have to find time. Your chem tests came back all over the place. How many of the anti-sleepers have you been taking?”

  She gave him a look.

  “That many?” he said, crossing his arms. “I’ll put you on quarters for tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Doc, but I really—”

  “You should listen to him.” Brady’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

  “Thank you, deep-throat,” the doc said with a look at Major Brady.

  The look the major gave him was as intense as one of the doc’s adrenaline shots. She had a feeling the doc would need his own pain meds if he kept taunting the two tense soldiers.

  “Come back tomorrow,” the doc ordered. “Here’s your stuff.” He handed her a bag with her micro and her personal vault. Her micro was bright with an alert.

  She accepted it and activated her channel on the net, not surprised when she heard the general’s voice.

  “You gonna live?” he asked gruffly.

  “Yes, sir,” Lana said, lifting the bag to see the alert. The micro was finished decrypting the messages. Her head hurt too much to read, and she lowered the bag.

  “We have another issue. Come to the hub.”

  “Yes, sir.” She paused to rub her face hard with the meaty parts of her hands. She felt weak and tired. “Doc, I need to pick up my prescription for—”

  “Heeeeeeeeell no.”

  She shook her head and walked out of the bay into the foyer, tucking the micro and vault into her pockets. Elise always had extra anti-sleepers.

  Another wave of dizziness washed over her. Lana’s head buzzed, and she staggered, leaning against a wall. She sank down against it when her vision grew narrow. The body heat of someone kneeling beside her made her blink, and she braced herself for the doc shoo
ting her up again.

  “Drink,” Brady’s rough voice instructed. She felt the pressure of a cup against her lips.

  The cool liquid entered her mouth. She swallowed. Then coughed at the tart aftertaste. She drank more, forcing herself to swallow it. The tunnel vision receded.

  “What is this?” she asked, blinking as her gaze cleared.

  “Down South, we call this energy water,” he said. He removed the cup. “It’s a mix of high-potency vitamins, electrolytes, and herbs. It’ll help you more than that shit the doc gave you.”

  Lana met his gaze, hearing his Southern drawl for the first time. His nearness was comforting, his body warmth making her feel a little less cold.

  “You need to learn to shoot,” he added.

  “I tried. I’m no good at it.”

  “It’s a good skill to have. You could’ve popped that maniac before he dragged you over the cliff.”

  It’s a good skill to have. His use of Guardian’s words confused her already drained mind. Maybe all regular army-types thought this way.

  “Thank you, Brady,” she said. While the night’s events were still a bit hazy, her memory was clear enough to feel gratitude towards the man crouched beside her. “You saved me.”

  “I’m just happy you’re alive,” he said, touching her face in an unexpected display of tenderness

  Lana studied his chiseled features, which didn’t seem capable of much emotion at all. His ragged voice held genuine warmth, though, so she took his words at face value. The large soldier made her feel tiny hunched next to the wall. His direct gaze made her overly self-conscious again. She wondered if her hair was as messy as she suspected.

  “I’ll walk you out,” he said, standing.

  He offered her a hand. Lana accepted it and allowed him to pull her up and steady her with warm hands on her arms. She’d never interacted with the army-types before, but she found herself liking them, if they were all like Guardian and Brady. Brady led her to the door without releasing her hand and opened it for her.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, uncertain what to think about the small touches. They made her insides feel even warmer than the doc’s drugs.

  “No more cliff diving,” Brady said as she stepped into the night. “And get some rest.”