She rolled suddenly, her hand coming up and toward him, a knife slicing fast toward his jugular with deadly accuracy. The movement was smooth and practiced. He caught her arm, slammed it down to the mattress, twisting almost to the point of breaking her wrist, his thumb finding a pressure point to force release. She never made a sound. Didn’t cry out in pain, even when he dug his fingers in hard enough to bruise.

Jess was enormously strong, genetically enhanced, and worked out daily in order to lift his own body weight all the time, yet it was difficult to subdue her. “Wake up, Saber,” he hissed, giving her a little shake.

The knife dropped from her hand and slid off the bed, but she rolled, ramming her elbow toward his jaw. He took the blow on his shoulder and caught her by the throat, slamming her down to the mattress.

Saber fought back, her eyes wild, haunted, his name on her lips. “Jesse!” She called for him again, the sound so filled with pain, so raw with terror, he felt actual tears stinging his eyes.

“For God’s sake, Saber, wake up. I’m here. I’m here.” He pinned her wrists, holding her down so she couldn’t continue the attack. “You’re having a nightmare. That’s all it is, just a bad dream.”

He knew the exact moment she became aware. Her body stilled, stiffened. Her gaze jumped to his face, examined every inch of his features, searching his expression for reassurance. He slowly released her and lay back beside her, turning so his body curled protectively around hers.

“Someone’s in the house, Jesse, I heard a noise.” She shuddered and leaned her burning forehead against the coolness of his.

“It was a nightmare, baby, nothing more.”

“No, someone’s in the house. Downstairs.” She clutched at his shoulders. “Lock my door. Is my door locked?”

He smoothed back her hair with gentle fingers. “No one can get in, you’re safe with me.”

“Turn on the light, we have to turn it on. No one will come in if the light’s on,” Saber insisted desperately.

“Shh.” He pulled her into his arms, burying her small, delicate face against his chest. She was trembling, burning hot against his skin. Tenderly he rocked her back and forth. “Nothing is wrong, Saber. I would never let anything happen to you.”

Her heart slammed hard against his chest, her pulse racing so frantically, Jess tightened his hold.

“It wasn’t a dream. I know I heard a noise, I know I did.” One hand curled into a fist, beating a tattoo against his shoulder. The other stroked the bulging line of his biceps in agitation.

There was something intensely intimate about the feel of her fingers tracing his muscles, despite the circumstances. His body stirred in response, painfully tight, urgently demanding. He ignored it, imposing the strict discipline that had kept him alive for years. He simply held her, rocking her gently, stroking her hair soothingly, not answering her wild imaginings.

It was some time before her body ceased trembling and she lay quietly in his arms.

Jess brushed a feather light kiss over her silky curls. “Feeling better?”

“I think I’m making a fool of myself,” she replied in a small voice.

“Never that, honey,” he murmured with gentle amusement. “You had a bad dream. Probably that rotten music you listen to.”

She nuzzled his chest, liking the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. “Country music is good music.”

“After the other night I decided I could get to like it. What in the world were you playing, anyway?”

“You don’t like rap?” Her laughter was muffled. “How did I know you wouldn’t like that particular group?”

He tugged a curl a little bit too hard in punishment, then rubbed the spot soothingly when she squealed. “Because I write number one hits all the time and not one of them has ever been rap.”

“Egotistical maniac,” she accused. “Not everyone has to listen to your music.”

“That’s true, baby, I don’t care if the entire world stops listening.” His lips brushed her hair again. “Except for you. Not only are you required to listen, but you’re required to like it.” He gave the order gruffly.

She laughed softly, relaxing against him. “So sing to me.”

There was a long silence. Jess cleared his throat. “Say, what?”

“Sing. You know. Ooh baby, baby, dum de dum. Sing.”

“I don’t sing, I write. Music and lyrics. Write, Saber. And I sell them to other artists. I work for the navy. I don’t have a band.”

“Why is that, Jess? You’re obviously independently wealthy, you have a reputation as a songwriter, yet you’re still in the military. You’re in a wheelchair.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“You know what I mean. Why are you still in?”

“Who said I was?”

“I’ve lived here ten months. I know you’re doing some kind of job for them. Or am I not supposed to know?”

“You’re not supposed to know.”

She settled deeper into his chest, looking up at him with humor in her eyes. “Fine then. I’ll be ignorant. Sing to me, Jesse. If I can’t have the light on, and we can’t discuss how utterly stupid it is for you to stay in the military, then you can at least sing.”

“Is this what I have to look forward to the rest of my life?” he asked, bunching her hair in his hands.

“A fate worse than death,” Saber agreed drowsily.

At least she hadn’t demanded to know what he meant. Jess mentally shook his head. He couldn’t afford any more mistakes like that. Saber didn’t stay in one place very long and lately she had become restless, looking over her shoulder. Was she getting ready to leave? She had said she wasn’t running anymore. He couldn’t take the chance of making her more nervous, because he damned well wasn’t going to let her go, and he was finding out every single one of her secrets whether she liked it or not.

“Jesse.” Saber sounded petulant.

He eased back against the pillows, Saber’s head on his chest. “A song, huh?” Jess sighed heavily. “You’re so high maintenance.”

“Quit stalling,” she murmured.

Jess closed his eyes and allowed the feel of her satin skin, the clean feminine scent of her to seep into him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and sang Saber her song. The one he wrote for her, the one that beat in his heart, his head, every time he looked at her or thought of her. A slow, dreamy ballad.

She moves like an artist, graceful and free

Like the paint on a canvas that flows easily

Oh, but those haunting eyes

They make me realize

The depths of my emotions stirring inside

She’s the woman I dream of

A child at play

Crusading for others, in her own special way

When I think that it’s over, it’s only begun

When I look in her eyes…

Oh, but those haunting eyes

They make me realize

The depths of my emotions stirring inside

Like the flight of the butterfly in gentle breeze

Her delicate features are so clear to see

She’s a woman, a warrior who never gives up

Oh, but my elusive butterfly

She makes me realize

The depths of my emotions stirring inside

Jess felt her tears on his chest as his voice faded. His hands tightened possessively, one in her hair, one around her waist. He didn’t need words, her tears were enough. Did she feel the deep emotions stirring in him? Did she realize he was baring his soul to her? He allowed her to hide, not wanting to push her when she was so vulnerable.

Saber drifted off into a fitful sleep. He waited until her breathing was slow and even before he reached over the side of the bed and found the knife. Very carefully he slid it by the tip into the small pouch on his chair. He could examine it in the morning, lift any prints, find out if anyone other than Saber had handled that military issue knife.

He held her most of the night, sometimes sleeping, more often than not simply lying awake, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. Her fever abated somewhere close to dawn, and regretfully, Jess eased himself from her side, knowing she wouldn’t be happy if she woke to find him in her bed, reminding her of her tears and their shared emotional night. She wouldn’t know how to handle it, and with her so close to running, he wasn’t about to take any chances.

S ubject Wynter arrived early. I doubled the dose we first agreed on in order to infect her. Her system is much more resistant than believed. Will find a way to get more blood from her to work with. She continues to move away from her training with each day. I believe you are correct in insisting on isolation and daily training. The longer she goes without exercising her skills, the more rapid her decline. Subject Calhoun has had visitors frequently. Lily Whitney and Eric Lambert visit him on a regular basis but almost never when Wynter is at the house. Lily is under heavy guard during the time that she’s with Calhoun, so snatching her would be next to impossible. We will see how Wynter fights off the infection and whether Calhoun calls for medical care.

He snapped off the recorder, wishing he could linger, but he didn’t dare tonight. He was taking too many risks, and he couldn’t chance being caught. Death came swiftly to those who failed. He wanted the prize they dangled in front of him. Enhancement, both psychic and genetic. He could take what he wanted then. Yeah, and he was having fun along the way. The next time maybe he’d bring entertainment again. He loved the look in the whore’s eyes as she realized just what he intended to do. His seed had been smeared all over her face and on her protesting lips at the very moment she’d understood he would have her life too.

“No, honey, you didn’t please me nearly as much as you thought you did,” he whispered aloud and glanced up at the window, smiling with a cold, dark promise.

Chapter 4

Saber opened her eyes slowly, reluctantly. Beside her, the bed was empty. She felt achy and sore, but the fever was gone. What in the world had happened to make her so sick? She was never sick-never-and it had been a shock. She hadn’t handled it very well either.

She rolled over and caught the sides of the pillow to inhale deeply Jess’s distinctive male scent. It flooded her lungs and made her stomach do a strange little flip. He had lain beside her, holding her in his arms, singing her to sleep. Her mouth curved at the thought. He said he couldn’t sing, but she loved his voice. The thought of it, of his song to her, had a warmth spreading quickly through her entire body.

She took another quick sniff of the pillow, wondering whether she should wash the pillowcase immediately before she became obsessive over it, or leave it forever, slip it into her emergency pack so if she had to run fast she would always have it. No one was around to see her, so she rolled like a cat over the spot where he’d slept.

Jess. He smelled so good all the time. He smelled safe and clean and so very male. With a little sigh she forced herself to get up. She had awoken earlier than usual. She tended to stay up all night and sleep in the mornings and early afternoon. Having no idea what she was going to do with herself, she forced her body into motion, taking her time in the shower, savoring the feeling of the hot water on her skin.

She couldn’t get Jess out of her mind. The feel of his hard muscles, his enormous strength, the tenderness in his voice. For a moment she closed her eyes, allowing hot water to cascade over her head and just dreaming. Letting herself believe, just for a moment, that she could have a life. A home. A man. She wanted to belong to Jess Calhoun. Her eyes flew open in shock. Oh God. She was in trouble. She had to get out before it was too late. How had she let this happen?

She pulled on her clothes as she tried to calm her wildly beating heart. Her mouth went dry. Jess Calhoun was not for her, no matter how much she wanted him. When had it happened? When had she allowed herself to believe her own fantasy? She stared at herself in the mirror while she blew her hair dry, trying to make her mind focus on what to do next. A sane woman would leave. Self-preservation would dictate that.