Page 19 of Feral Mate

“Research is good. I always enjoyed gathering as much information as I could. If you know the parameters for what you can find, it can be key to your success.”

“Agreed. Tell me Dr. Payne, have you been able to recover the memories of your own research?”

“Bits and pieces, but most of it is gone. The hell of it is, they tell me I stole proprietary data. I don’t remember that at all, and if I did steal it, not only don’t I remember doing it, I don’t remember what it was or what I did with it. I hope you’re ensuring that all the data you’ve collected is safe and secure.”

“I have. Right now, I’m working on figuring exactly what mutations to your DNA sequence would be the most helpful.” She checked the IV again, adjusted something and then said, “For the most part I’m finding all that I need. Try to get some rest and let your body heal. I will look in on you tomorrow.”

* * *

Mason woke as his inner snow leopard snarled in warning. With the dialed back sedation, the difference between actual sleep and unconsciousness was becoming more greatly exaggerated, and he could feel his body actually beginning to heal itself.

He came back from the depths of sleep to see Perkins plunging a syringe into his IV line. Mason was sure that even if he’d been awake, the painful rush of medication as it surged through his veins would have brought him back for sure. It was just this side of agony and made his body arch up out of the bed.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” he snarled.

She smiled down benignly—that is if you considered a great white shark, swimming up from beneath you, its mouth gaping widely and showing rows of jagged teeth to be a benign sight.

Ignoring the question, Perkins commented. “Emery worked late last night. Her last stop was here to see you.”

They were watching her. Was she aware of that? Did NLGP suspect something?

“She was checking up on me. What’s the harm in that? My guess is in order to come up with the best gene therapy, she needs to collect as much information as possible.”

Perkins tapped the IV line. “Nothing really, but she should have been home sleeping. She’s got a lot of work ahead of her, and NLGP has big things planned for which we need her help. I don’t want you to become a distraction.”

It would have taken a blind man not to see that Perkins was suspicious. Last time he heard, his vision was twenty/twenty. He needed to do whatever he could to bolster Emery’s explanation without putting her in a corner.

“I think it’s just another case of a scientist playing Florence Nightingale. You know, healing the sick and all that. Besides, it was pretty well known that she had a crush on me—always making goo-goo eyes behind my back.” Mason managed to pull off a chuckle. “I could never decide if it was flattering or creepy.”

Perkins regarded him coolly. He could tell he’d given her something to think about but hadn’t completely dispelled her suspicions.

Leaning over, she ran a long nail down the bridge of his nose, over his lips, chin, and then down the column of his neck. “Why is it I don’t quite believe you?” she all but purred at him. “You and your team always thought you were so much smarter than everyone else, and yet you never realized the true value of your research. So many women thought you were the ultimate combination of brawn and brains. What would they think of you in your weakened state? Probably not much. But I like you like this—at my mercy. But don’t fret, dear Carson, I will ensure you enjoy your stay. Maybe we’ll even bring Dr. Smoak into the fold.”

Mason tried to lurch up to get at Perkins and her evil, smiling face, but the restraints held him in place. He fell back onto the bed as Perkins spun on her heel and sashayed out of the room. Every muscle in his body was tense, his nerve endings were on fire, and he was covered in sweat. Whatever it was that Perkins had pushed through his IV made him woozy, nauseous, and shaky.

Perkins stopped outside in the hallway. The door hadn’t closed all the way.

“I’m tired of waiting,” she said. “I want him given the accelerated healing treatment. We’re running out of time and there are those who are demanding results. I don’t want to waste more time or other experimentation on a specimen that could keel over at any minute. If he’s to be worth all the trouble we’ve gone to, he needs to be in prime condition.”

“I thought the EnGen project…” said a man Mason couldn’t see.

“Was a complete and utter failure,” interrupted Perkins. “We were told to leave the dragons alone—that they were too volatile and too difficult to control.”

Their voices droned on, sounding more like bees buzzing around than words. He was fading into the darkness when he realized two orderlies were coming inside, wheeling a stainless-steel gurney with a squeaky wheel.

CHAPTER 10

EMERY

Exhausted from her lack of sleep and nerve-wracking day, Emery managed to drag herself back to her flat over the bakery. She’d managed to smuggle out the documents and information she had obtained in her laptop bag. The night before she had figured out places she could hide the documentation she knew she would be gathering, and had been surprised to find she had several—the cardboard tube of the paper towel holder attached to the bottom of her floating shelves in the kitchen, behind two electrical outlet covers, and between the picture and the slide in backing of a picture frame.

The more she’d looked, the more places she’d found to hide things. If they had to flee, it would take time to retrieve them, but they would also be safe if they had to leave and come back at a later date. Emery figured if they were scattered around, even if someone found one stash, they might not find the others.

Emery was a huge fan of espionage thrillers and had learned some common tricks of the spy trade for being able to tell if anyone had entered her abode. It would be difficult to do when the bakery was open as they’d be heard walking around by the employees and patrons of Rolf’s. Quickly, she checked her outside door and found the small piece of the matchbook cover she’d left between the door and its frame. To even see it, someone would have to be looking for it.

Assured that no one had entered her flat via the door, she entered cautiously, turning on the lights as she searched the large open space and bath. One thing about her flat, it would be difficult to hide in. None of the windows opened, and there was only one door. Once she was sure she was safely locked in for the night, she plopped down on the couch—nervous and edgy.

She needed to go to bed. With a groan, she managed to get up off the couch and drag herself to bed, pulling off her clothes and letting them drop to the floor as she did so. She didn’t even turn down the covers, simply flopped onto the bed, reaching down to grab the down comforter she left folded on top of the pretty quilt. Having covered her naked body, she fell asleep. He joined her, but this time it was to spoon his warm body against hers, wrapping his arm around her waist from the back and snuggling against her. Emery knew it wasn’t real, but she would take the comfort he could offer her and be glad of it.

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