Red Night ((Book 1) Timewalker Chronicles) Read online

  Yeah. Right. No chance in hell of that happening.

  She edged closer to his heavy mahogany desk and the clutter splattered across its shining surface. Most likely, he would notice if she started tapping on his keyboard, but maybe she could get an idea of what he had around just by looking. What she really hoped was that her pulse would stop pounding in her ears.

  Trent Georges had disgusted her. So why would his partner in crime turn her on? According to the history she’d been given, he was equally responsible for the outbreak. Just as many souls hung over his head. So, why didn’t she feel their oppressive weight destroying the attraction when it came to him?

  The only possibility appalled her. Destiny. Fate. The meddling of the Archiver with her life. And his. A silent “No” fell from her lips. Her jaw dropped at the realization and she couldn’t tear her gaze from his muscular frame. Luke Lawson had wavy chestnut hair, just long enough to bury her hands in and sigh as its softness whispered over her skin. Chocolate brown eyes that would melt her on the spot if he’d actually been looking at her. Broad shoulders. Full soft lips. And his hands. Heaven help her. Every inch of her body begged to be worshipped by those incredible hands.

  This can’t be happening. She remembered her mother’s throaty laugh when she’d boldly declared The Prize to be a joke. Alexa refused to believe the Archiver had the power to choose a mate for her before she’d even been born. Her mother had been happy to let the matter drop after a sly, “We’ll see, daughter.”

  The Prize. The perfect man for her. A gift given in return for sacrificing her life to save others. A man genetically manipulated to be compatible with her DNA. A man who would sire the perfect daughter. A little girl who would be the next of her line to be Taken. A man who would boil her blood and be the ideal companion for her, for the rest of her life here on Earth 8. He was chosen by the wisest beings in existence, beings chosen by God Himself to protect all the planets, and the races on them, from themselves.

  And her man whistled, at six o’clock in the morning.

  Her man was responsible for the end of the world.

  Luke was still crisscrossing his office like an enraged army ant rebuilding his fallen fortress. And he was all hers. If she could keep them both alive long enough to claim him.

  Chapter Two

  They must’ve made a mistake this time at the big meddlers’ meeting. The Archiver who summoned her ordered her to do whatever was necessary to prevent the outbreak. That included eliminating the scientists responsible. Luke couldn’t be hers. She was supposed to kill him. If she didn’t, M-6 would. He was the third victim of the Red Death.

  Even as she flirted with the thought, she knew there was no mistake. The cabbie, Trent, and all the men in the small army of staff that worked in this complex had failed to draw her attention. Nope. The only man she wanted was him. The whistler.

  There was always the chance he’d be reasonable. How cruel a fate to be forced to kill her mate. Or anyone else for that matter. She wasn’t at all sure she could do it. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to find out.

  The urge to unmask her presence and tell him everything was nearly impossible to resist. If he were her true match, he would have to respond to her. To believe her. But what if he didn’t? Could she risk billions of lives on a theory inspired by a hormonal surge? No.

  Frustration built until it was gnawing a hole in her stomach two hours later. She couldn’t allow Luke to get out of sight, so he’d led her on a merry chase around the complex. To the lab. Back to his office. More pacing. Conference room for a meeting where a bunch of stiffs argued over details that wouldn’t matter in a week if the Red Death struck. Back to his office. Even more pacing. And mumbling. And cursing. She wanted to slap him upside the head and tell him to get on with it. He needed to go home so she could destroy any files he had there. He needed to get her inside the lab so she could wipe out all the bugs. And what was he doing? Sitting at his desk for the last half hour, working. There was nowhere she could hide in his Spartan office and relax for a minute. Two chairs, one huge wall-to-wall bookcase stuffed to overflowing, and his desk occupied the small room. That was it. The plain tile floor didn’t look comfortable, and the hallway was no better. No rest for the wicked. Problem was, she couldn’t keep this up much longer, especially without food. She’d been cloaking herself for longer than she would’ve believed possible.

  A slight tremor vibrated through the waves of light she could see cascading around her and she hoped he couldn’t see her. The struggle to remain hidden drained her energy, and would soon force her to act in reckless desperation. Exhaustion made her hands shake and her right eyelid periodically twitch. All she really wanted was to devour several pounds of chocolate, then lie down and sleep for a week.

  Fat chance of that happening.

  But at least he wasn’t whistling.

  Surprisingly, she missed the sound. As obnoxious as she’d first thought his habit, the noise had calmed her nerves, just a bit. Oh, well. She’d wanted him to stop, and now he had. No sense whining about it.

  Alexa sat in the brown leather chair across from his desk and studied him. Luke was scowling intently at his laptop computer. No matter how hard she tried to remember to control herself, her foot rebelled and periodically tapped the floor, betraying her irritation. His concentration was so complete he didn’t hear it.

  Enough! Time to get this fool out of here before she collapsed.

  She sprang out of the chair and pulled the power cord out of his laptop. He frowned but didn’t stop working.

  As quietly as possible, she glided around his desk to check the computer screen. Battery back-up. Hell.

  Resisting the temptation to touch him, she arched one arm around his broad shoulder and pushed in the power button. A delicious mix of coffee and aftershave lotion invaded her lungs, made her want to…

  “What the…” Luke reached around, plugged the computer back in, and started to reboot. Stubborn man. An ornery giggle nearly escaped before she could swallow it down. This could get interesting.

  He rebooted the computer. She crashed it. They went through the dance again. She knocked over his coffee when his arm got close to it. Journals and papers flipped onto the floor. She loosened all the adjustment knobs on his brown leather chair when he bent to retrieve them, so he was simultaneously dropped several inches and flipped back into a reclined position when he sat back down. Leaning in close to smell him again, she blew in his ear. The line of his tall frame beckoned her and she and imagined herself on his lap. Now, that situation had definite possibilities.

  Luke got up, fixed his chair, sat down, and stared, dumbfounded, at his computer screen again. “All right. Enough.” With an impatient shove, he closed the laptop and slammed it into its case. He grabbed a couple of periodicals off his desk and headed for the door.

  Alexa would have jumped for joy, but she barely had the energy to keep up as his much-longer legs ate up the distance between the building and his black vehicle. The door said Cherokee, and for a fleeting instant she wondered if the Nation of United Tribes had started producing vehicles. This world was so like her own, and so not home.

  She waited until he had the driver’s door open to knock the magazines out of his hand. While he retrieved them, she crawled over the front seats and into the back. The moment the engine came to life she curled into a ball, prayed he wouldn’t find her, and allowed exhaustion to overcome her.

  When she awoke, she knew two things. It was dark. And she needed food. Her hunger went beyond the normal twinge of the stomach. The searing hunger pangs spread to her entire body, made every muscle quiver. She crawled into the back seat and looked around. She was in a garage. There was enough room for another vehicle, but parked there instead was a motorcycle with the words “Harley Davidson” on its side and several different styles of bicycles. A row of small windows stretched across the large door. Beyond them night had fallen.

  A quick glance at Tinkerbelle’s green glowing dial assured her t
he day was gone. Ten o’clock. Time was racing. The Red Death would soon be waving the final flag.

  There was a single door she prayed led into his house. She grasped the door handle and breathed a sigh of relief when it turned easily in her hand. “Ready or not, here I come.”

  He was still awake. A light was on and background noise came from the other side of the house. She didn’t care. All she cared about was food. If she didn’t eat soon, the whole world could self-destruct and she wouldn’t even notice. Her mother had always laughed at times like this, when she’d nearly gone mad with hunger after practicing her cloaking. Dad had accused her of being unreasonable and grumpy. Well, yeah. So, what? A girl couldn’t save the world on an empty stomach. But it wasn’t just her stomach that screamed for food. Her entire body felt hollow, like someone had sucked the marrow from her bones while she slept.

  One more tiny problem. She didn’t have enough energy left to hide her presence. The floor dipped and spun under her tennis shoes. Her stomach rolled and threatened the plush green carpeting in the hallway with a nasty deposit. “Damn.” The whispered curse flew from her lips before she thought to stop it.

  Leaning heavily against the wall, she felt her way down the dark hallway. The flickering of his television lights allowed her to find the kitchen.

  The kitchen was separated from the other room by a row of cabinets on the floor and a chest high tile countertop bar and eating area. If she crouched below the bar level she wouldn’t be seen. She was nearly too hungry to care. As quietly as possible, she eased open several cabinet doors until she found something edible. She examined the blue liquid in an unopened bottle that said “Gatorade”. After a quick glance at the label, she decided it wouldn’t kill her, and promptly drained it dry.

  Her entire body sighed in relief as the sugar rush surged through her bloodstream. The stainless steel refrigerator door beckoned her from where she sat slumped on the cold tile floor. She needed more. What were the chances of him having a large turkey on wheat waiting for her, heavy on the mayo? Slim to none was her guess. But she was beyond being picky.

  Luke was moving around in the other room. She heard a door open and close. Her eyelids drifted closed and she leaned her head against the oak cabinet door. How could she pull this off? How would she tell a complete stranger his bug was going to wipe out the planet? How would she convince him to destroy his life’s work?

  A quick peek up over the edge of the counter assured her that he hadn’t moved in her direction, so she sank back onto the tile floor. Luke Lawson seemed like a decent man. He’d held his own against Trent. He’d been courteous to all of his staff during meetings when she was sure he would’ve been just as happy strangling some of them. What was going on inside his head? Would he think she was insane and call the police? Kick her out on her ear?

  It didn’t matter; she had to find a way to make him believe her. Without help, she couldn’t get into the lab. She was no magician or electrical whiz. She wasn’t a spy or even a very good sneak. Nope, she was just a normal everyday girl who happened to be able to be invisible once in a while. But you didn’t need to be seen to be infected by a virus.

  As much as she hated to admit the truth, she needed him, needed his help. She had to trust him. Unfortunately, thinking about it and doing it were two very different things.

  * * * * *

  Luke couldn’t believe this day from hell. First, Trent came to him with a crazy scheme for a new strain and animal testing on the Ebola mutation. No one else in the project meeting had any objections to Trent’s insanity. And, last but not least, he was sure he’d been followed all day. By an angel.

  He’d finally done it, lost his mind. Willingly given himself to the insanity of her until he realized he was looking over his shoulder and actually hoping to catch another glimpse of silver hair. His angel had the fair face of an innocent young woman, but the haunted blue eyes of a woman who knew too much. His. The woman he’d dreamt about nearly every night since he was sixteen years old. The woman who’d marked him as her own when he was still just a boy.

  On the night of his sixteenth birthday a strange man in a white robe had led him to her in a dream. In truth, he’d never believed it was real. But he’d never been able to stop thinking about her either. And in his dreams? No sane man would admit to the things he’d seen in his dreams.

  Never before had his visions invaded the waking hours. Today, all day long, he’d caught glimpses of her flickering in and out, an illusion that stalked him. That’s what he’d believed anyway. He’d even hung around work longer, hoping to see more of her, until a couple of books had fallen from his bookcase. His computer had gone crazy. And, he swore he’d heard a feminine voice whispering in his ear to go home. A voice that made his spine tingle and his pulse leap. Not good.

  He’d given in and gone home. Just as he’d feared, she vanished. He was thirty-two years old. Too old to believe in nonsense.

  He’d spent the evening in his study, on the telephone. Trent wasn’t the only one with contacts in the Army’s Biological Defense Program and the NIH. Luke hadn’t worked very hard to convince the colonel the study was too dangerous. Especially once he read through the colonel’s copy of Trent’s M-6 report. Half of it, lies. Trent was obviously willing to do anything for a few million in grant money. Including risk the lives of everyone in the Hot Zone, a place Trent never entered unless he absolutely had to. The jackass always preferred someone else take the risks.

  Luke chuckled to himself. He’d never liked Trent. Luckily, Trent had a few too many enemies in the Army. They’d been looking for an excuse to kick him off the project and transfer him out of BL4. Luke had happily supplied one. Day after tomorrow, more importantly, the day after their annual fundraiser, Trent was going to be in for one hell of a shock. The whole mutant project was going down. Every culture was to be destroyed. Luke was looking forward to doing the honors. He wished the colonel would let him do it tomorrow, but Trent was too good at schmoozing the moneymen. No one wanted to fire him until after he’d brought in the cash.

  Luke leaned back in his brown leather sofa and propped his feet up on the mahogany coffee table. He’d won, beaten the slimeball at his own game. Tonight, he was going to sleep like a baby.

  Shuffling? Was that his refrigerator door? Soft, muffled sounds drifted from the kitchen. Luke froze.

  Someone was in his house.

  Silent as a stalking panther, Luke eased off his couch and glided like a shadow into the adjacent room. He hadn’t turned his alarm system on yet, but he had too many friends who knew too much about electronics, security, and international espionage. They had insisted on installing a video surveillance system in his house. The cameras were on twenty-four seven.

  Quickly, he scanned the split screen on the large monitor. For a moment he couldn’t move. His heart skipped a beat. She was in his house. Solid. Real. Classically beautiful, and not at all what he would’ve expected in a dream. Dressed in white from head to toe, she looked more like an angel than a thief. Capri pants. Short-sleeved shirt. Tennis shoes and bobby socks. She looked like a teenager on her way to a picnic. And she wasn’t armed.

  For a split second he wondered if he was dreaming. Had he fallen asleep on his couch?

  Luke pinched himself. Hard. It hurt like hell. No. This was no dream, but a real, flesh and blood woman. The same woman he’d seen flickering in his peripheral vision so many times today, he’d thought he was going crazy. So, what the hell was she doing crawling around in his kitchen, stealing food? She didn’t look homeless or malnourished. His gaze rested on the generous curves beneath her blouse. Quite the opposite. “Interesting.”

  The thought crossed his mind that he should be concerned. But he worked in a lethal environment on a daily basis. Life took on a whole new perspective. He never had the privilege of panic. This small, unarmed woman wasn’t high on his worry list. He’d take his chances on her not being a true member of the heavenly host. If she struck him down with a lightning bolt, we
ll he’d take it up with God when he saw him. But nothing was going to stop him from finding out what she was doing in his house.

  He gave her no warning, just strolled into the kitchen, pulled open the refrigerator door, and turned around to where he knew she was sitting. “Anything in particular I can get for you?”

  She gasped, her mouth forming a perfect ellipse, then disappeared into thin air. The smile he’d had in place to accompany the sarcasm fell like a two-ton rock and landed in his stomach. He shook his head to clear it, blinked several times. She was still gone. Vanished.

  An angel, huh? Yeah, right. Years of Sunday school teachings were running rampant in his head. Maybe he was hallucinating. How many cups of coffee had he had today, anyway? Ten?

  Fervently, he hoped she wasn’t an angel. She was most definitely the woman he’d seen in his dreams. If she was an angel, he’d surely burn in hell for the things he’d fantasized about her.

  No. She must be real. The camera couldn’t lie. Neither could the heat in his chest.

  The sound of glass shattering on the tile floor in his study broke the silence. The tight band around his chest eased. She was still here. Breaking things. He smiled. An angel wouldn’t break furniture. “There went Grandmother’s lamp.”

  He followed the sound to the dark doorway of his study and squinted into the inky blackness of the room. “Don’t walk around. That lamp was glass.” No response. Then crunching. Obviously, she wasn’t a great listener. Slowly, enunciating every syllable, he took his voice up a couple of decibels. “I’m going to turn on the light. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “No!”

  The word froze him in place. He waited in the darkness while the silence stretched on. “Why are you in my house?” Silence. “And why were you following me around all day?”