Unstoppable Read online

  Unstoppable

  Heather Long

  Contents

  Unstoppable

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Heather Long

  Unstoppable

  Joss Archer

  Codename: Lieutenant

  Abilities: Soldier, Security Specialist, Private Contractor

  Mission: Identify and Capture Bio-Enhanced Humans

  * * *

  A private contractor with military experience, retired Army Lieutenant Joss Archer took a job where she thought she could make a difference. In her world, superheroes wear dog tags, not capes. Dedicated to defending her nation and loyal to a fault, she is ready to resist any manipulation when she’s captured by what she believes are bio-enhanced mercenaries. The more she learns who her bosses are working for, the more she realizes she may be on the wrong side of this war…

  * * *

  Drake

  Codename: Tank

  Abilities: Enhanced strength and impenetrable skin

  Mission: Locate Michael & Rex

  * * *

  A man on a mission, Drake has never questioned their goals in traveling through time to prevent the horrible world he and the other Boomers grew up in from ever coming to pass…until now. His fellow Boomers are pairing off, but worse, they are making emotional decisions regarding their mates’ safety over and above the mission. Betrayed, now the Boomers are missing two of their own, stuck tending to a violently wounded hero who hates them all, and Drake has to not only protect his captain’s lady, but he has to break the soldier they captured to find out where his people are…

  * * *

  What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? He’s about to find out.

  Chapter 1

  Sweat trickled along Drake’s brow. A droplet traced the path so many had wandered already. It slid along his nose, dangled precipitously for an agonizingly long second before splashing down to splat against the concrete next to his hand. The damp spot offered proof positive of how long Drake waited, flat against the roof, under the blistering sun. All night, then all day, and awaiting the twilight changing of the guard outside the Rhea Silvia Research Center.

  On the surface, the Silvia Center seemed an idyllic park, thick with trees and surrounded by a ten-foot brick wall. Eight buildings occupied the Center. The classical revival style with Georgian influences made it seem more like a private residence than a medical facility. Drake trusted the information they extracted with regard to who owned the facility in truth, if not on paper: R.E.X. Labs. Research, Engineering, and Xenogenetics was held privately and on the cutting edge of every major biometric breakthrough of the prior decade. Their people would also be on the leading edge of a deadly genesis which would sweep the globe, leaving a gross disparity between those in wealthier positions of power and those with nothing—more and more, Drake had come to believe it.

  Nations would fall before the corporate engines of a handful of conglomerates. The borders may have stayed the same, but in name only. According to his grandmother—or at least the woman who’d called herself grandmother to all the orphans in his crèche—it all happened not because they conquered, but because they convinced. By the time the general public realized their gross error, it had been far too late. They’d given their lives over to corporate megalomania.

  A fly hummed close to his ear, but Drake refused to let it distract him from his watch. Eight buildings to choose from and one of them had to be housing whatever cells they’d put Michael and Rex into. The Captain and the shapeshifter had been taken prisoner in a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

  A soft beep echoed in his ear. “Any movement?”

  Oh, the voice of ground zero in their current predicament—Aurora “Rory” Graystone, also known as Halo in the modern day. She was a hero, a costumed freedom fighter who sought to protect the people of her city and the team she led. Once a target of the Boomers, she’d become the Captain’s most valuable partner. Michael falling in love with her had turned all their plans on a dime. Either out of a need to protect her or maybe simply to prove a point—who knew what the hell went on in Michael’s head these days, Simon notwithstanding—Michael had knocked her out, then went to assist her so-called friends to capture the enemy and had been captured in return.

  It gave him a damn headache thinking about it.

  “Drake?” Rory persisted. “Movement?”

  “None.” Maybe if he kept his answers short, she would take the hint. The less he moved or spoke, the less chance of anyone noticing him. He was a mile from the campus, tucked neatly atop a bank building, out of sight of the surveillance cameras. He had one job—map the security protocols, shift changes and, if they were damn lucky, find a sign of their missing Captain. If he isn’t dead.

  He’s not dead. Simon’s mental voice washed over him. I’d know if he were dead.

  Nonplussed by the telepath’s reach or response, Drake maintained discipline and didn’t shrug. Too bad you can’t tell us where he is, then.

  Too many people. No frustration marred Simon’s tone. If I had a specific area to search…

  Did you search this place? It might save them time if Drake didn’t have to map the whole Center to find a weak point to penetrate.

  They have it shielded. The walls are thick concrete with metal reinforcements and layers. There’s a low-level hum, a charge running through the walls. It makes accurately detecting who is inside impossible. No judgment, only practicality in the mental voice. We are blind without more information.

  Pity.

  “Let me know if you need me to relieve you.” Rory managed to not sound sulky, though bitterness edged her words. She’d been pissed when she’d woken, and her fury gave them all pause. Thankfully, Amanda had been there, which kept her from flying off the handle. That and the presence of Ronan, their latest rescue, who seemed one heartbeat away from true insanity.

  “Roger.” Another single word response, and Rory finally gave him what he wanted. The earpiece gave another click as she disconnected. Relief sighed out of him.

  On the one hand, Drake felt a tremendous sense of guilt toward Rory. The Captain shouldn’t have drugged her into unconsciousness then left her with Drake for protection while he went out undermanned into an ambush. On the other hand, she proved day in and day out what an intractable pain in the ass she could be.

  Consider yourself lucky to be on recon duty. Simon’s dry mental observation amused Drake.

  She’s your girl’s best friend. Of all the changes the Boomers had undergone, Amanda and Ilsa were definite improvements for both Simon and Garrett. His brothers-in-arms were happier thanks to them. Pity Michael and Rory hadn’t had the same result.

  Their relationship is not our issue. We concentrate on getting Michael back.

  The telepath had a point, but he had to ask… And afterward?

  We concentrate on not letting Rory kill him.

  Smiling, he accepted the touch of goodbye as Simon left him to his observation. A flick of a look at his watch told him shift change would begin within the next sixty seconds. Over the last twenty-four hours, he’d clocked them promptly at every seven point five hours. Transition took thirty minutes, with the complete rotation finalizing at the end. No one left a station without their replacement in place. The smooth operation left no holes and little distraction for them to u
se to their advantage.

  Military precision reflected in the timing with the gate replacements arriving precisely on the thirty-minute mark—four figures dressed in full black, reinforced body armor, with high-powered semi-automatics strapped to their backs and forty-fives in their holsters. Knives in the boots didn’t seem to be standard issue, but more than a handful of those walking perimeter wore them.

  Setting his eyes to the viewfinder, he tracked the motion of the guard swap at the main gates. A sentry approached from the west, the gentle sway of hips offering a more feminine gait than some of her compatriots. She wasn’t the only woman, as he’d counted five so far amongst the primarily male security force.

  Mercenaries? Perhaps. Military training? Definitely. They walked like soldiers. Took one to know one, and Drake had done his time in special forces, after he’d been forcibly extracted along with all the other potentials from his crèche for a training camp. His superiors determined children made the best candidates for instruction in tactical thinking and combat maneuvers.

  Keeping count in his head, he measured the woman’s steps as she completed her circuit. Her replacement joined her, and they walked the sentry path together, not missing a beat of her earlier pace. Her replacement was taller, but obviously the subordinate. She walked with her gaze on a swivel, scanning everything around her.

  Drake smiled to himself. Sentry duty sucked balls. It was easy to grow complacent and sloppy. The monotony of walking the same routine, seeing the same sights—it could drive even the most competent and skilled to making mistakes or to stop looking. However, she didn’t seem to rely on her mere presence to be a deterrent.

  The force guarding the campus did not all live on campus. Many came and went by the eastern gate. He’d monitored those comings and goings as well. If he couldn’t find a breach in the security, maybe he could make one.

  Simon? I have a really bad idea.

  * * *

  Debriefing complete, Joss headed into the bunker to change. One perk of retirement—her deployments didn’t involve foreign countries as often anymore nor did she have to stay in a restricted locale. After stowing her uniform and locking away her weapons, she padded into the communal shower to rinse off the sweat before changing into street clothes.

  Who knew jeans would seem like such a luxury, or how light a backpack with her cell phone, a book, and a water bottle would feel? It wasn’t a sixty-pound rucksack. At the main office, she signed the log then went through the quiet, but efficient, search verifying she left the station with only the items she’d carried in with her.

  “Surprised you don’t want one of the luxury pods they offered us, Lieutenant.” Alvarez flashed her an easy grin. Though the retired sergeant once reported to her, he didn’t seem to hold that against her then or now. Private sector work didn’t typically rely on military discipline. One perk of this position was working with other professionals and retired military personnel.

  Amused, she leaned a hip against the metal table and waited for her backpack to exit the x-ray machine. Leaving required more security than entering some days. Whatever the center focused on in their research was way above her pay grade. All she cared about were the regular deposits made into her checking account each week, the standard search grids she walked on her eight-hour shift, and getting home in time for dinner.

  Really, the only thing her life lacked for was a cat.

  “I like my apartment, all eight hundred square feet of it.” She’d paid a pretty penny during her multiple deployments to maintain her grandmother’s rent controlled space. When the lovely old centenarian passed away a week before Joss returned stateside and three months prior to her mustering out of the army, Joss recognized fate for what it was. She’d grown up in and around that apartment, now she’d make her retirement there in a neighborhood she knew well, even if it continued to gentrify block by block. Continuity of family was a concept her grandmother taught her to appreciate.

  “Have a good night, Lieutenant.”

  “Alvarez, call me Joss or call me Archer. I’m retired, remember?”

  “Sure thing, ma’am.” The older man gave her a half-salute, half-wave and she shook her head. He was older and set in his ways. His sole purpose was to check in and check out the security force, a fairly low-key position for someone nearing his retirement years.

  “Good night.” It was half past seven by the time she exited the gates. Outside their brick façade, the city hummed with life. Sometimes she forgot how close they were to the city, or anywhere for that matter while she performed her circuits. The walls segregating the center from the city served as more than a barrier, they seemed like a border between the near serene world they could have and the chaos of the world they lived in.

  The latter punctuated the singular reason she’d agreed to work for the center. Turmoil engulfed their world, riding on the rhetoric submitted by the politics of hate. Conflicts across the globe reflected their constant struggle, except more and more, the enemy had grown to look like themselves—a people trying to live their lives only to be consumed by hate and fear.

  God, I need a beer. Checking her watch, she began the walk toward the subway station. A train home, a stop at the corner grocery, and she could be home with dinner on the stove and a cold beer in hand in less than thirty minutes. Living in Brooklyn wasn’t without its fundamental flaws. The commute cost her time accepting quarters on campus would avoid, but she also preferred her privacy. After exiting, she covered her hair with a baseball cap then set off.

  The station was a ten-minute brisk walk away, and she descended the steps at a jog. The hair on the back of her neck tingled. Swinging her head, she kept it casual as she scanned the area. She angled to look behind her as she walked through the turnstile. The light quantity of foot traffic didn’t offer her any worries. Still, she kept her vigilance high. Having participated in more than one bag and tag over the last several weeks, she recognized the number of bio-enhanced humans running around the city had climbed.

  More than one made it a dangerous number. Having participated in the center’s most recent relocation, Joss understood the very real threat presented by powered individuals. Sliding her phone out of her backpack, she slid her earbuds in and pretended to read the screen while moving in a swaying circle—snapping photos of a full 360° around her.

  She didn’t concentrate on the content so much as making sure she captured as many of the faces around her as possible. Chances were, she was just being paranoid. A hot breeze puffed from the track tunnel even as the vibration announced the arrival of her ride home. Pivoting, she caught sight of a shadow in the shape of a man on the far side of the tracks. He wasn’t waiting for her train nor was he anywhere near her. Still, the figure’s stance captured her attention and held her riveted. Without her flash, she might not get a good image, but she continued snapping photos as the train came in and, for a split second, illuminated his darkened features, highlighting what looked like a golden tattoo on his face. He stared right at her, and their gazes collided.

  All the air seemed to back up into her lungs. She couldn’t inhale or exhale, then the train separated them and she jerked back a step. A swift survey didn’t reveal the man to have suddenly joined them. The doors opened, spilling out a handful of passengers. Boarding, she crossed to the far side of the train and studied the far platform.

  It was empty. Glancing at her phone, she thumbed to the photos app and studied the different shots while still dividing her attention with the platform outside. She found a half-blurred image of the man she’d seen as the train jolted before accelerating away.

  The tattoos were visible in the image, but she’d looked right at him. Why was half of his face blurred? Had he been moving? But she’d stared right at him. They’d locked gazes more than long enough for her to experience the connection.

  How the hell had she missed the photograph? The shot before the blur didn’t have him in it. The one after, just as the train slid through, also showed him gone.


  Fuck. Her heart hammered, and she switched screens on the phone. If she’d been spotted by one of the enhanced, they might have found the Center. Finger hovering over the contact information for her boss, she hesitated.

  A single, blurred picture of a man twenty-five feet away in the dark didn’t offer proof of anything. A surreptitious glance around the nearly empty train car didn’t reveal anyone else. Clicking the screen off, she scrubbed a hand over her face. She was tired.

  Nibbling on a thumbnail, she studied the flash of lights along the train path beyond the window. If she saw the guy again, she’d report it. Better to be cautious than to cry wolf.

  Still, when she stepped off the train at her stop, she could help but scrutinize her surroundings. The feeling of being followed tracked her all the way home.

  Chapter 2

  It was like a scene from a bad movie, or maybe worse. At least Rory could turn a bad movie off. She ducked out of the way before she got caught in the crossfire when Amanda flew backwards. Her teammate halted her progress with a wave of power to avoid slamming into the wall. “For fuck’s sake, Ronan.”

  Flinging her hand forward, Amanda released a wave of energy from her palm and struck the winged man in the chest with the controlled explosion. Staggered, he fell back. His dark eyes blazed with rage.

  Before he could lunge forward, Rory stepped into the space between them. Simon and Garrett were just outside the doors with Ilsa, but the last thing she wanted was them sliding into the breach. Garrett had already stated his vote to put Ronan down or at least on ice.

  “Stand down.” Rory kept her voice even and as devoid of emotion as she could. Like everyone else, she was on edge. Screw that, she was over the edge. The combination of pure fury and grief left her raw inside and out. “I mean it, Ronan. I will put you on your ass if I have to, but we’re done with these temper tantrums.”