Last Strike Read Online Free PDF Page A

changed. Because of her. His eyes were sensitive to light, his physique indomitable. His hair had been thick and close-cropped, now he kept his head shaved. The researcher in her wondered if it was a side-effect or simply his new preference. She didn’t dare ask.
    The rumors had started shortly after he’d been declared fit for duty and pulled into Messenger’s service. They claimed he was mute, the atomic bomb of field operations, a lethal reset button. She knew the rumors were nonsense and she’d followed his service as closely as possible, always regretting what her team had put him through. He’d trusted her as he woke up in that surgical suite and she’d systematically ruined the man he’d been.
    “I believed Dr. Gerardi and the explanation of program goals. I believed we were doing the right thing by saving your life and testing new enhancements.”
    His gaze narrowed, missing nothing. “And now?”
    She was caught, trapped with no good answer to give him. How fitting that her life rested in his hands now as his life had once rested in hers. She’d abused his body in the name of science, giving him just cause to return the favor years later. “If you’re here for vengeance, just get it over with.”
    “I’ll make it quick,” he replied slowly. “ If you tell me what I did to end up in your lab.”
    She had small hope anything she told him would earn her a quick and merciful death. While he clearly debated his options, she racked her brain for the details of the man he’d been, searching for words that might give him some measure of peace. He’d come into the facility wounded in both body and mind. “I asked for you,” she began. “You were nearly dead and your mind… you were lost, grieving over a mission you’d barely survived. I thought -” She stopped short, had to catch her breath when he pinned her with that strange gaze. “I thought you deserved a chance to heal. You deserved restoration.” In the beginning, she’d thought they were doing amazing, powerful, good work.
    “Restoration?” His graveled voice was a low whisper, his eyes flashing with a scarcely leashed violence. “I was your toy. Some nameless thing you pumped up and down with one injection after another at your whim. You turned me into a monster.”
    “No,” the protest was automatic, fueled by years of guilt-ridden nightmares. Nothing she’d pumped into him would’ve turned him into Messenger’s assassin. “The tests were brutal, I know, but the results -”
    “You don’t have any idea. A print out or blood workup couldn’t possibly give you any idea.”
    Did he actually remember those tests and experiments? He couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Her stomach clenched. She lowered her gaze to the plastic covered floor. She deserved anything he dealt out. “The goal wasn’t about testing your pain limits,” she said, hoping he’d hear the truth. “Pain was a temporary side-effect. Our intention was creating a better soldier who would suffer less in combat. Soldiers who’d overcome, who’d be faster, stronger, and smarter leaders. The goal was to take results from the lab and save lives in the field.”
    Once more he lowered his massive body to look her in the eye. “What do you think, Doc? Happy with the results?”
    She wasn’t. Not at all. And Last Strike was considered a resounding success. For a moment, captivated by his relentless gaze, she had the crazy idea he might help her if he understood she wanted to blow the lid off the UI program. But he remembered. Remembering, he obviously hated her, with good reason. Maybe, if she could do something to right that wrong, he would help her, give her a head start to escape. She didn’t have anything to lose by asking and taking any positive action was far better than waiting for a notorious killer to finish his assignment. “I can help you,” she blurted out suddenly.
    He made a sound that wasn’t laughter, though his lips tilted in a faint resemblance of his