Fired Up

descendants, Humphrey Hulsey, was responsible for creating the new version of the drug. What did they want with Chloe?”
    “It all goes back to the usual problem. The formula is inherently unstable and the results unpredictable. They figured that maybe Chloe could work the lamp to correct those issues.”
    “Hell. I need to talk to Chloe, but I don’t have time right now. I’ll call you back after I get my people into that gym.”
    “Don’t send anyone in without plenty of backup.”
    “Oh, sure, like I’ve got plenty of backup available. Haven’t you been listening? I’d send Zack in, but unfortunately he and Raine are in L.A. this week. There is one illusion-talent, who may or may not be available, in the Seattle area. He gets results, but it’s usually best not to ask how.”
    He cut the connection to Jack and started talking urgently to the man who had answered the other phone.
    The illusion-talent listened in silence.
    “I’ll take the job,” he said. He cut the connection.
    Fallon tightened his hand around the phone and took a deep breath. He did not consider himself the imaginative type, but something about the illusion-talent’s ice-cold voice succeeded in chilling his senses for a couple of heartbeats. He did not like using the guy, but sometimes he had no choice when it came to agents.
    He punched in Jack’s number. There was no answer. He tried Chloe’s cell and then her office phone.
    “You have reached the office of Harper Investigations. We are unable to take your call, but if you leave a name and number we’ll get back to you.”
    He cut the connection and sat at his desk for a while, wondering why Jack and Chloe had gone off the radar. There was only one reason that made any sense. Something had happened to Chloe while she was inside the gym. Jack was protecting her.

54
    JACK’S VOICE CAME THROUGH THE DARKNESS, PULLING HER back to the surface. “Chloe, can you hear me?”
    “Sure.” She could feel his hand wrapped tightly around hers. She opened her eyes and looked up at a familiar ceiling. “No place like home.”
    “Welcome back,” Jack said. His stark features were drawn hard and taut. She sensed a subtle pulse of psi.
    “You’re not sleeping again,” she accused.
    “Not for the past twenty-four hours,” he said. “I’ll live.”
    “What day is it?” she asked.
    “Thursday. I carried you out of that Rollins gym the night before last.”
    “And he’s been sitting here at your bedside ever since,” Rose announced from the other side of the bed. “We all have.”
    At the foot of the bed, Hector got to his feet and ambled across the quilt to lick Chloe’s face. She grimaced and patted him.
    “Please tell me he hasn’t been drinking out of the toilet bowl again,” she said.
    Rose looked at Jack across the width of the bed. “Definitely back to normal. I’ll get her a glass of water. She needs fluids after that fever.”
    Memory came slamming back. Chloe clutched Jack’s hand.
    “Am I okay? You didn’t let Arcane do anything to me, did you?”
    He smiled a little. “As far as Fallon knows you’re resting after your traumatic ordeal.”
    “What time is it now?”
    Jack checked his watch. “It’s just going on seven o’clock in the evening.”
    “That certainly explains why I have to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.” She pushed the covers aside and got to her feet. Belatedly she glanced down and saw that she was wearing a nightgown. The gown and the bed were damp with sweat.
    “Rose insisted on being the one to undress you,” Jack said.
    She felt herself grow warm, not with fever this time. “Well, it’s not as if you’ve never seen me naked.”
    “No. But Rose seemed to think you would be embarrassed later. Something about your intimacy issues combined with being vulnerable because you were asleep.”
    “Right. Intimacy issues.” She pushed herself off the bed and hurried down the short hall into the bathroom.
    Hector padded after her and settled down outside the door to wait for her. Abandonment issues, she thought. What the heck, we’ve all got issues.
    She looked into the mirror and saw a woman who had just survived a raging fever. It was not, she thought, an attractive sight. Her hair was matted with dried perspiration, her complexion was wan and dehydrated and her eyes showed clear evidence of the strain and exhaustion. She was not exactly a candidate for Miss Perky of the Month, but she was alive, reasonably sane and when she