Man of her Dreams

O’Riley’s gaze locked with the governor’s. “I understand what I have to do, sir. I never make the same mistake twice.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

O’Riley watched Remington hurry to catch up with his buddies. He shook his head, a smile tempting his lips. Would wonders never cease? Their new, fearless leader wasn’t just putting on the dog for his faithful followers after all. He actually did have the guts to follow through with a suggestion.

Be that as it may, this was still O’Riley’s show and he had every intention of doing it his way. Darby Shepard wouldn’t be sacrificed until he was certain the elimination was absolutely necessary.

He might be considered a hardcore bastard by most, but he still had a heart.

AIDAN WALKED the dark street, using the night as camouflage for getting the lay of the land. This was his first trip to New Orleans. Though he had studied the necessary maps and cultural background of the city, nothing took the place of firsthand knowledge.

His target had recently changed her place of residence. Apparently her new notoriety came with a price—her privacy. She’d taken a temporary furnished apartment in the Garden District. The school board had insisted she take a leave of absence from her teaching duties until the hoopla surrounding her recent celebrity status died down somewhat. According to Center’s intelligence, however, the board intended to let her go permanently. The school was a private institution; the wealthy parents whose children attended didn’t want a teacher who possessed such special talents, though it was her special talent that had saved the life of one of those very children.

Darby Shepard—Eve—would have little say in the matter of her future. If his assessment cleared her of being a threat to Center, it would take leaving New Orleans and changing her name for her to get back any semblance of a normal life, he concluded.

He thought about the woman he’d studied on paper before coming here. Her physical features were appealing. Long silky brown hair, pale brown eyes…the color of wet sand. Tall, slender. Yet she looked strong, athletic. Smart, judging by her university scores. But then, why wouldn’t she be? Like Aidan, she’d been genetically designed in a lab. Every possible advantage had been assured before the first cell division.

Eve represented the only female Enforcer. Some considered that to be the reason for failure. Perhaps the female of the species just wasn’t strong enough for the extent of the gene manipulation to take fully. A remote predisposition for frailty, some theorized. But Aidan didn’t think so. He’d watched Eve’s history at Center. She’d faked her failure. He was certain of it.

Something about the little girl she had been drew him on an unfamiliar level. He had no real memory of her. It had likely been removed years ago after she was eliminated from the program. But as he’d watched her development from toddler to preadolescent as electronically chronicled by Center, he’d felt a kind of bond with her. They had been educated together, side by side. The only two who possessed the full status of seer. To a degree, they had been separated from the others to protect their elevated ability to read human responses. They had, in effect, been trained and educated in a kind of solitary confinement most of the time. As children, they’d only had each other. Of course, Aidan had been mainstreamed with the others after the age of twelve, when it was deemed he could more readily handle all that he would sense in a multipopulated environment.

Now he and Eve were to be thrown together once more. Only this time, he would be the one judging her true ability. And she would not fool him. He wondered if she ever really had. Perhaps he had known and had simply chosen to keep the information to himself…to protect her.

In any event, things had changed. His assessment would not be influenced by childish delusions.

To a certain degree, she was now the enemy.

He would be her judge and her executioner, if necessary.

When he would have turned the corner from Broadway onto St. Charles, two men stepped out of an alley and blocked his path. The dim glow from the streetlight scarcely offered any real illumination, but his night vision rivaled any technology the military possessed. Light was not required.

“Gimme your wallet, man,” the taller of the two growled. He waved the knife in his hand for emphasis.

According to Aidan’s research, this area of the city had a much lower crime rate than certain others. That these men would attempt to mug him surprised him to some degree.

“Is this your usual territory?” he asked the man who’d spoken. Not that it mattered, really; he was merely curious.

“What the hell you talking about? Territory? Just gimme your freakin’ wallet!”

“Yeah, man, maybe you don’t like your face the way it is,” the other one offered as he, too, showed off his weapon of choice.

Aidan frowned. The weapon lacked any length to speak of. Perhaps a four-inch blade. Foolish choice, in his opinion. “Contrary to popular thinking,” he said to the second fellow, “size does matter when choosing a weapon.”

The taller one lunged for him. Aidan stepped aside in a flash of movement, allowing his adversary to hit the sidewalk face-first. The other made his move then, but he was too slow in addition to lacking a suitable weapon. Aidan grabbed his wrist, twisted viciously, snapping his arm with little effort. The pathetic excuse for a switchblade clinked to the ground seconds before its owner crumpled, howling in pain.

“I’ll kill you!”

The first man had regained his footing and was making another dive for Aidan. One swift kick and he was on his knees. A well-placed blow to the back of the head and he wouldn’t be getting up again this side of daybreak.

Aidan walked away, leaving the one writhing in agony and the other unconscious.

He decided that the crime statistics of this city couldn’t be trusted, which wasn’t an actual problem but more of a nuisance.

Continuing along the tree-lined avenue, he watched for the side street that would take him to the eighteenth-century villa-turned-apartment building. The mansion sprawled around a lushly landscaped rear courtyard, which greatly increased its value, according to the real estate information he’d perused on the Internet.

As he approached the building from the rear access, he didn’t fear being seen since he wore all black—shoes, slacks, shirt and the full-length duster. He reached into his duster’s interior pocket and removed the slide card required to open the electronic lock on the back gate. The technology worked much like the keycards on hotel rooms, only this one was a little more high-tech. Excellent security, unless one gained access to the necessary computer chip. Duplicates could be made of anything if one possessed the right technology. He had not needed to bother with a duplication since he had leased the only vacant apartment.

Inside the enormous courtyard, Aidan paused to survey the area that apparently appealed to the wealthier of the species. Lush plantings, along with a large, ornate fountain, gave the space a tropical feel. Admittedly, the area presented a certain atmosphere of luxury. He turned his attention to the balconies overlooking the courtyard.

Darby Shepard occupied the apartment on the third floor to the left of the building’s rear entrance. Despite having moved in only a couple of days ago, a box of blooming flowers tumbled over the lacy ironwork enclosing the balcony. He looked to the empty balcony to the right of hers. That one would lead to his temporary quarters.

He studied the windows on either side of the French doors on her balcony and calculated that the window between their balconies looked directly into her bedroom. She would be sleeping there now. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, reaching toward her room. Yes, she slept. He sensed no movement of her mind.

In his experience, even his elevated skill didn’t allow him to read a person’s every thought, especially if they blocked efficiently. He could, however, sense mood and emotion, even intent, quite easily. Thoughts were more difficult. Broadcasting was far easier than reading. She would block him the instant she sensed his awareness level, but he had years of training under his belt that she did not possess.

He would be the stronger one.

Not bothering with the interior stairwell that would lead to their apartments, he scaled the vine-covered trellis. He braced one foot on the edge of his balcony and the other on hers so that he could peer through the window of her bedroom.

To his surprise the window wasn’t even closed, much less locked. He pushed the window inward a bit and surveyed her room. The bed stood across the room directly in front of his position. Her hair spilled across the white pillowcase. It looked longer than he’d expected. In the recent photos he’d seen, she’d worn it up in some fashion. But now it was down and splayed over the pillow next to her like a veil of silk. Her long legs looked golden against the white linens that barely draped her body.

Eve was no longer the little girl he remembered. She looked very different…very attractive. His mouth parched as if he’d been many hours without drink. But he had not. This was a physical reaction to her beauty. Just as the hardening sensation in his muscles was. She was beautiful…even more so in repose. An almost overwhelming urge to touch her seared through him. But that would be a mistake.

He watched her a while longer, then climbed onto his balcony and unlocked the French doors the old fashioned way—with a credit card.

Sleep was essential for now. When daylight came, he would make his presence known to her. His profile was simple, a cover she would no doubt trust without second thought.

He did not anticipate that Operation Prophecy would take long. Assessing her skill and memory imprint should be simple. He looked forward to learning about this new Eve.

Aidan stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed.

Sleep came quickly and so did his dreams.

DARBY SAT bolt upright in bed. Her breath rushed in and out in labored gasps. Perspiration beaded on her skin.

Dreaming…she’d only been dreaming.

Of a man. Not the horrible man she’d led the police to, but another stranger.

He’d stood in shadows but she’d felt him watching her. His gaze had moved over her skin like a lover’s caress. She shivered even now, wide awake. The darkness had prevented her from making out the details. But she sensed something familiar about him.

But that wasn’t possible.

She shivered again and her gaze locked onto the window.

Had she left it open that far?

Rubbing her arms against the sudden chill of the autumn night, Darby climbed out of bed and crossed the room. She peered out over the courtyard that had drawn her to this place. It was so beautiful. She’d always wanted to live in one of these old houses but didn’t see the need for the expense. After all, her parents’ home sat completely empty.