He dragged the chair to him and placed it under his arm. He had to jump into the doorway, taking the wheelchair with him. And he had to land on his feet or he’d fall backward onto the basement floor-and Ben’s dead body.
Stiffening his back, he blocked out everything around him. Sight. Smell. Danger. He visualized his legs with veins and arteries and flashing nerves firing like sparkplugs in a car. He sent the signal from his brain to the nerves as he crouched low and leapt. He felt the power rush through him, the coiled readiness of the genetic enhancements springing into action. Though he hated what Whitney had turned the Ghostwalker program into, Jesse loved the rush using his physical enhancements always gave him. Loved it. Before he’d lost his legs, he’d lived for it.
He landed in the doorway and took a step forward, then a second. Exhilaration swept through him. He was doing it! He was walking again. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to stand, to feel his legs under him, to walk upright, his body once more his own and under his command. He felt tall. He hadn’t been tall in a year. It was amazing to walk, to feel free. He’d learned appreciation for things most people took for granted, and he swore to himself he’d never take them for granted again.
His legs began to shake, warning him he was overdoing. He set the wheelchair on the floor near the back door and took another step to walk around it. He didn’t want to stop, wishing he could just walk out into the rain and keep going until he found Saber.
Jess reached for the back of the chair, and his legs gave out, dropping him to the floor with no warning. One moment he was standing, the next he had crashed onto the tiles, the force of the fall splitting open his knees. He tried to go with it-he knew how to fall-but it happened too fast and he slammed his head against the wall.
Cursing, dizzy, he dragged himself into a sitting position and hit the wall with his fist in a fit of frustration. So much for the new and improved legs. With a little sigh he reached for the chair again. The back door swung open and he rolled, bringing up his gun, his hands steady when the muscles in his legs spasmed and cramped. He lay on his belly, his body stretched out, legs jumping, with his gun aimed.
A low, one-two whistle eased the tension in him. He rested his forehead on his arm for a moment, frowned when he lifted his head and saw his arm was smeared with blood. Wiping at his face, he rolled over, sat up, and sent the exact same one-two whistle back, but he didn’t lower his weapon until Logan stepped into the room.
“You look like shit. Who beat you up?” Logan crouched beside him but kept his weapon clear and ready as he examined Jess’s face.
“You ought to see the other guys.” Jess pulled his face away from Logan with a small glare. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“You’ve got a hell of a cut on your face.”
“My sister was tortured and someone kicked the crap out of my woman. I don’t think a little cut is anything to worry about.”
“Really? Well, you’re bleeding like a stuck pig. I thought maybe one of them got you with a knife.”
If Logan was looking for an explanation, he wasn’t going to get one. Jess reached for his chair. “Where’s Patsy?”
“Saber’s got her safe in the van. She wanted us to take Patsy to the hospital so she could come look after you herself.”
Jess winced. “Go to hell, Logan.”
Logan frowned. He’d always teased Jess about being in a wheelchair. Jess had never reacted with anger. “You all right?”
Jess dragged his chair close with one hand and locked the wheels. “Yeah. I’m just pissed that I brought this on my sister.”
Logan stepped to the door of the basement and peered down. “Holy crap, Jess. You were pissed off.”
“The bastards got off easy.”
“Couldn’t you have left one alive so we could interrogate him? The two we got earlier aren’t part of this. They were amateurs hired by some bozo as sacrificial lambs, maybe to set you up to see what you could do. But this was professional.”
“No, I couldn’t leave one of them alive. They tortured my sister. What would you have done?”
Logan swung his head around, his gaze meeting Jess’s. The easygoing mask slipped to reveal the predator underneath. “If I’d gotten to them first, they would have died hard and mean. They were lucky.”
There was a moment of silence. Logan turned away as Jess heaved himself back into his chair. Jess wiped at the blood on his face, his hand lingering to hide his expression. Having walked made sitting in the chair all the more difficult, as if it was the first time all over again. His lungs burned for air and he fought down rising panic. He didn’t dare look at Logan. He needed out of there. He needed Saber.
The back door was still open and he thrust at the wheels hard, propelling his chair out onto the porch. It was light outside, and raining hard. The wind felt good on his face, but the tightness in his chest didn’t go away. He heard the door of the van slam and looked up.
She came to him out of the rain, water plastering her hair around her face, slicking back the springy curls. Her eyes were enormous, almost purple, her mouth inviting. The sight of her shook him, warmed him, eased the terrible weight in his chest. She had bruises coming up on her face, her cheek was a little swollen, and she walked with a limp, although she was trying to hide it. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Her gaze locked with his and his heart somersaulted at the relief there. The shimmer of tears-for him.
“You made it.” Her voice was husky, as if she might be choking.
“Was there any doubt?”
She stopped in front of him, swallowed hard and shook her head. “No, of course not. But it’s good to see you.” She pressed her palm to the cut on his head. “Since we’re taking Patsy to the hospital, you can get this looked at.”
He didn’t tell her he was using an experimental drug for an experimental program and he needed his own doctor, he simply caught her hand and pulled her to him so he could taste her wild, exotic flavor and lose himself in the dark excitement of her soft mouth.
Chapter 15
Saber really didn’t like Dr. Eric Lambert. He and Lily Whitney-Miller had arrived at the house with Captain Ryland Miller in the evening after things had settled down in order to take care of the cut on Jess. She expected to dislike Lily, knowing the woman knew all about her past, yet it was Lambert who set off her initial alarms.
Unlike Lily, Eric Lambert wasn’t a GhostWalker. He might work with them, but he had no firsthand knowledge of what they suffered, what their lives were like. He studied them, and he patched them up when they went down, but the bottom line was, he experimented on them-just as Peter Whitney did.