Generation 18 (Spook Squad 2)
“Everything all right, sir?”
“Fine.” Gabriel somehow managed to keep his voice even. “We found a bloody sweatshirt in the trash can. There is blood sprayed across the mirror. I want samples taken from both and sent to the labs ASAP. And next time, O’Neal, kindly make sure you do a proper sweep of the crime scene.”
The detective flushed and nodded, and Gabriel shoved his hands in his pockets and walked from the room. He heard Sam murmur something to O’Neal, then her footsteps as she followed.
He punched the elevator button. She stopped behind him, her gaze burning deep into his back.
“If you’ve got something to say, then say it,” she said. “Don’t take your anger out on other people.”
Normally, he didn’t, but she had an uncanny knack of seeing what others didn’t, and it both irritated and alarmed him. He turned to face her.
“I’m not Jack. I’m not using you for my own purposes. If I were, I’d keep you as a partner.”
She crossed her arms, her expression cynical. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
It wasn’t supposed to make her feel anything. “Sam, that birth certificate Jack gave you might be a fake.”
“I know that.”
“Then you should realize that the only true clue we may ever get lies in uncovering whatever that unknown chromosome in your system is. Remember, someone looped Finley’s computer to stop us from accessing the test results. They may very well have bombed Central Security for the same reason.” He hesitated, then added, “Damn it, Sam, don’t you want to know what you are?”
She rubbed her arms and stared at him for several moments. “Who I am, yes. What I am? I don’t know.” Her voice was soft, face troubled. “I really don’t know.”
“Then you’d better decide quickly. People died because of the secrets in your past. How many more have to do so before you find the courage to face what you might be?”
She stiffened. “You’re a bastard, do you know that?”
“Maybe I am. But at least I’m a realistic bastard.”
They waited in silence for the elevator, then got in and headed back to the ground floor. She led the way out of the building. The rain pelted down, a cold gray curtain that quickly drenched them both. Not that she seemed to take much notice as she marched up the street to the nearest cab rank.
“What now?” she muttered, once they were both inside the cab.
“Now we go back to my place and view the security tapes from both Harry Maxwell’s building and this one.” The address he punched into the console was hers—she’d catch a cold, or worse, if she stayed in her current clothes, and he didn’t have anything that would even come close to fitting her.
“Well, gee, don’t you know how to show a girl a good time?”
He ignored the sarcasm in her voice. “We’ll stop and get some takeout, too. There’s not much in the way of edible food at my place.”
“There’s a surprise.”
She crossed her arms and stared out the side window, angry as all hell and fighting not to show it. He ran a hand through his wet hair and half-wished he could take back the words he’d said in anger. But, damn it, if she didn’t start investigating just who and what she was, all hell could break loose. Her psychic gifts were coming to the surface. Why that was happening now, when she was almost thirty, he didn’t know. But Sethanon had feared the emergence of those gifts enough to place at least one guard on her—though, oddly enough, he seemed reluctant to harm her physically.
It made no sense. Nothing about her past made any sense.
But he had a bad feeling they’d better start finding some answers. Jack had warned them that a war was starting, a war in which Sethanon planned to subjugate the human race as well as any nonhumans who sided with them, and he had a feeling Sam was a key to what might happen. Why else would Sethanon be so interested in her? And if she was a key, then he sure as hell was going to keep forcing her to chase her past and the memories she’d lost. Because they could be very important for everyone’s survival. So perhaps she was right. Perhaps he was no better than Jack.
Except that she’d liked Jack. And she sure as hell did not like him.
Which was a damn shame, because if she weren’t his partner, he would have been tempted to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.
—
Sam leaned back in the chair and stretched. She’d been sitting at this console for close to ten hours and her butt felt numb. As numb as her mind.
She rubbed her forehead. The ache had set in behind her eyes again, and her stomach was beginning to cramp—probably as a result of all the coffee Gabriel had given her in the last few hours.
It was time to give her eyes another break. Sighing, she turned away from the console. His apartment wasn’t what she’d expected. Given his long hours, and the time he spent working on Federation projects, she’d expected his apartment to be sterile—a place where he came to sleep and regain strength, and nothing more.