Love Me Or Let Me Go Read online

  "You sense emotions?" Now he looked downright intrigued.

  "And always know a lie when I hear it,” she added before moving on quickly. “Look, if you could tell me the danger you are referring to, I can tell you whether I can help with the problem."

  "You can sense lies?" He asked the question as if she had not said anything else. That had caught all his attention.

  She laughed; she could not help it. "That makes you more uncomfortable than the thought that I can read minds? That's telling."

  "Sorry,” He grumbled, sounding more put out than apologetic. “I guess that doesn't make any sense."

  She gave him a wry look. "You'd be surprised.” She crossed her arms and gave him a stern look of her own. “So enough beating around the bush. Why am I here?"

  "We only hire the best people in their fields for this project and unfortunately that comes with a certain stress level that not everyone can handle. The project we have been working on is important for a lot of reasons. Very important. I do not exaggerate when I say it could mean the continued survival of our species."

  That sounded sufficiently ominous. As well as moving, almost patriotic in tone. And not completely the truth. "And the other reason?"

  "Other reason?"

  "You practically shouted there was more to this very generous job offer than my PhD, or even my psychic ability, which you were not even sure of."

  "Ah." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps we can leave it at that for now."

  She laughed just a little. "Perhaps we can't. If you are not prepared to tell me everything then I'll just be on my way."

  "It's really a superfluous reason,” he cajoled. “I had no intention of even bringing it up."

  "I am sure those are your intentions,” she said narrowing her eyes. “Now understand mine. I know it all, no lies I have to sift through, or I walk."

  He cleared his throat again, looking none too pleased but resigned now. "Very well. I just ask that you keep in mind our primary aim."

  "Major,” she said letting her exasperation at his stalling show. “Spill it."

  "McAlister Weer."

  She was quiet for a whole minute. The name like a gong in the quiet room making her whole body react, in all kinds of ways, some of them were even pleasant. Most were not. She finally spoke quietly. "I am very confused. You are telling the truth, as far as Mac being the reason I’m here.” She gave him a firm look. “The primary reason despite your fictitious platitudes to the contrary, but he is not,” she stated emphatically. “Nor has he ever been a party to bringing me here. Explain."

  "How do you know that?" Major asked with open curiosity instead of answering.

  "Major,” she said loudly. “Why am I here?"

  "Humor me,” he said raising his hand in a placating gesture. “How can you be sure McAlister isn't involved?"

  "We have a connection, I guess you could say." She sat back and tilted her head when something he felt caught her attention. "That makes you happy.” She blew out a breath suddenly knowing what he was not saying. “That's why I’m here, isn't it? Because you think I can find McAlister Weer for you."

  He did not even bother to deny it this time. "That connection is what we are banking on."

  She gave him an incredulous look. "You expect he will come here looking for me? He won't,” she assured him firmly. “We said our good-byes a long time ago, and I want it to stay that way."

  This time it was the major who looked puzzled. "May I ask why you are so determined to avoid him."

  Mira shook her head and licked suddenly dry lips. "Let's just say we have a history I don't intend to repeat."

  "But you are still married?"

  Why that question would feel like a bomb going off in her belly she did not want to think about. "Technically." Was all she was willing to say on that subject.

  "But you haven't seen him in years?" The Major was going on as if he could not see what his casual interrogation was making her feel.

  Good, she thought raising her chin. At least I’m not obvious.

  "I have not been in the same room with him in over 6 years,” she finally answered quietly. Hoping that would be the end of it.

  "But you have seen him?"

  She didn’t answer. She had a feeling he would not believe a lie and she was not about to explain Mac’s dream visits to this man. Or that every once in a while, she felt like he was close, checking up on her from a distance. No, she had no intention of mentioning any of that.

  "May I ask where?"

  "You can ask,” she said as politely as she could manage. “I won't answer."

  "You don't need to protect him,” he finally said. Trying to gauge her reaction. “I can assure you we mean him no harm."

  She almost did scoff at that. If anyone could take care of himself it was McAlister Weer. "What do you want him for?"

  "The leader of the project we would like you to work on is vital to our survival, the Doctor in charge of the project, the brain behind it is getting on in years, and we are very much afraid that should he pass there will be no one to continue his work."

  "And you think Mac can and will continue that work?” Mira did not even try to hide her disbelief. “Stick around for years working on one project? He’d be bored and walk before the ink was dry on his nondisclosure agreement."

  "This is not that kind of project,” The Major assured her.

  She felt his surety as well as saw it. "What does that mean?"

  "This project will demand Mac use a great capacity of his intelligence and psychic abilities daily. It is mentally and physically draining. We are aware that Mac requires a certain level of stimuli or he becomes...restless? This project will give him everything his searching brain needs and then some. He will not need the challenge of new places or ideas as he constantly does now."

  That had her looking more closely at the man. "You know Mac pretty well."

  "Yes,” he agreed almost jovial. “I have known Mac since before you were born."

  Now she was really confused because he was telling the truth. "Then what do you need me for, sounds like something he would jump at the chance to be a part of."

  "As I said,” he cleared his throat. “I know Mac, the only thing I have ever seen him jump at ...not to put too fine a point on it, is you."

  She refused to touch that. "So you brought me here, assuming Mac would follow and be so intrigued when you presented him with this new project that he would stay?"

  "Something like that."

  "What aren't you telling me?" she asked with clear suspicion.

  He raised a brow at her. "That is a loaded question."

  "About the project and Mac,” she clarified.

  "It won't be a simple matter, even after he arrives to convince him to re-join the project," Franks admitted.

  "Re-join?” she asked. “He was a part of it before? But you think this time he will stay?” she shook her head at him almost pitying. “If the project cannot keep him, I hope you are not banking on me doing so. Believe me it won't work."

  "He didn't leave the project before.” His answer had her blinking, but he continued before she could ask for clarification. “What do you know of Mac's father?"

  Mira understood then and started to laugh. "Let me see if I understand this? Your plan is that he will come looking for me and end up working for his father? I take it back," she said. "You don't know Mac."

  "Let me worry about that,” Franks said brushing that off. “Will you stay? Knowing everything? Believe me when I say this is as important as anything else you could possibly do. And while I can't tell you everything about the project itself until you sign a confidentiality agreement, I will say that your particular abilities are very necessary above and beyond the other reasons we might like you here. You would be given free rein to make what changes you need to in the lab, as well as anything else you consider might improve working conditions. As it stands our employee turnover is too high. We could use your expertise in making the needed im
provements. And you would have a chance to work with some of the finest minds in their fields.”

  He passed her a packet that stated in a whole stack of pages all the things she was not allowed to talk about. "Here is a brief synopsis on the field of study we are interested in. Your ability and degrees in regards to the effects of emotions on work output could be invaluable.”

  She eyed the stack of papers dubiously. "Don't I have to have clearance for this?"

  "When you began seeing Mac we checked up on you. You have security clearance and have had it for years."

  "Wonderful,” she muttered. Then spoke louder. “You did get the part where hiring me will gain you nothing with Mac?"

  "Like I said.” Franks shrugged without repeating the assurances he had already given her. Then he left her alone so that she could read through the paperwork before she signed it. She didn’t blame him. It was going to take a while.

  Mira was not even through the first page when she became aware of a presence in the room. She held her breath knowing it couldn't be Mac so soon, but also aware that it was a feeling much like what she got when Mac was near, not as powerful or consumed with conflicting emotions but similar all the same. She looked over, almost scared of what she would see.

  It was not Mac. It was however someone she recognized, though they had never met.

  "You're his father,” she said with surety.

  "You're his wife,’ came the gruff reply.

  She shrugged. "Technically."

  "I suppose I could say the same." The man with the faded version of Mac’s blue eyes looked her over in silence for a few more minutes.

  Her empathic senses were confused to say the least. He was looking at her with curiosity and something that felt a bit like hope. But why would she bring him hope?

  Then he broke the silence and finally spoke. "Let's go."

  He turned to leave as if expecting she would jump up and follow. When she didn’t immediately do so, he turned back to give her an impatient look. She stood, nearly knocking over her chair in the process. Whatever else he was feeling, he broadcasted impatience loud and clear. Once she was trailing him his mind was immediately on something else. Something that had his emotions tumbling over each other so fast she could not quite catch them.

  Like his son, she thought. Emotions followed thought and theirs moved faster than anyone else she had ever met, making it hard to grasp exactly what they were feeling from minute to minute. "Where are you taking me exactly?" she finally asked as he led her past security to a part of the building she had not seen on her way to the interview.

  "To the lab of course,” he answered her like the answer was obvious and she should have come to it on her own. “You should see what you’re getting into."

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Are you sure you should be showing me this?" She asked looking around at the lab. "Your major made it seem like I would need to agree to the job before I was given certain information, and a tour of your top-secret lab would definitely be information I can't have yet."

  Ignoring her completely he punched his code into the security pad and then looked into the iris scanner. The doors opened with a swoosh and they were past the first security check. Of course, all that meant was that they made it into the elevator.

  "Being in charge has to come with some perks," Doctor Weer muttered. "Lord knows most of what gets shoveled my way is pure bullshit." He sounded so belligerent and his words were so unexpected that she nearly laughed. She restrained herself trying for professional now that she was not longer in an interrogation and just followed meekly at his heels as he led them through three more checkpoints. Only one of the guards at any of the security posts even questioned the doctor for bringing a stranger into the top-secret lab.

  It was at the last check point before the main lab. The big muscled fellow that was good looking and probably drop dead gorgeous when he was not rigidly displeased, eyed them both with open hostility.

  While everyone else they had passed made sure to look anywhere but at the Doctor, as if scared he would notice them, the big bruiser of a man with the military cut brown hair and rigid bearing actually glared at him. On him, the black security guard uniform looked military, and she had no trouble picturing him in the thick of battle against insurgent forces. "Who the fuck is this?"

  Wow, Mira thought. Talk about extreme differences in reactions from one person to the next. Either complete and utter fear for the good doctor served with a desire to please, or the exact opposite. Though the emotions she was getting from the soldier was exasperation peppered with fond frustration, so she knew whatever his tone, he did not want to kill them on sight. Which was reassuring giving the laser beams he was attempting to shoot from his pretty green eyes.

  "Doctor Miranda Weer meet soldier boy. Soldier boy is under the mistaken impression that this is a military base not a lab, and that he is in charge. Ignore him, I do."

  Mira cleared her throat. "Doctor Miranda Fletcher, actually. I never used my married name, even," she said looking the good doctor in the eyes, "when I considered myself married."

  "Dennis Grim," soldier boy answered, his attention shifting her way with suspicion and a growing interest, she noted. "I don't go by soldier boy, I go by Nevada, especially since I'm fucking forty-six, and sure as hell not a boy." His eyes trailed from her hair, snagged for a moment at key areas, like her face, breasts and finally her legs on the way to her toes in one leisurely sweep. Since she had discovered long ago that no amount of trying on her part could hide the fact that she looked, for all intents and purposes, like she belonged in some Arabian knights harem fantasy, she had long since stopped trying to down play her looks and instead embraced both her curves and her exotic bone structure in a way that, she hoped, looked professional and pretty, rather than sexy.

  She was not sure why a skirt that admittedly hugged her hips, but landed below her knees, and a white blouse she had made sure only hinted at her shape could distract a grown man from his job, but clearly something about her ensemble did. Or maybe the cute low healed mules were the issue? They did do great things for her legs, Mira thought with a touch of self-deprecating humor as the big man continued to look her over. Maybe she should have gone with the flats.

  Dennis Grim, code name Nevada seemed to like them anyway. His eyes were back on her legs when his head snapped up and his attention finally went back to the doctor. "Did you say Weer?"

  "Yes," the old man said snidely. "The woman you are currently ogling is my daughter in law."

  Mira winced, humor forgotten, she wanted to say ex daughter in law, but since she had never gotten around to an actual divorce she could not really correct the Doctor. And since she had no interest in returning the man’s obvious interest, she let it lay. "Which is something I would prefer not to spread around. Not when, if I take this job, I will want people to talk to me, and they won't necessarily feel like they can if they think I am close to the boss."

  Code name Nevada cleared his throat and kept his eyes carefully off her legs. Apparently while it was acceptable to eye up random strangers, he drew the line at married woman, or at least women related to the Doctor in charge of the lab he worked for. She wasn't sure which it was for this man, but Mira had no doubt once they turned and walked away it wouldn't keep him from staring at her ass. The emotion she was getting from him was not contrition so much as curiosity and banked sexual interest and challenge. He certainly was not listening to a word she said.

  She nearly groaned; she just knew he was the type of man who would see her off limits state as an attraction. If she did take this job he would need to be dealt with, but for now she kept her face carefully blanked and just studied the dynamics of the place, code name Nevada included.

  "Does the Major know you are giving tours to civilians now?"

  Weer snorted. He ignored the question and looked at Mira. "See? Apparently having put himself through rigorous physical and mental conditioning in the military has given him the mistaken belief that
only another individual who has done the same could possibly be in charge." He turned back to Nevada and glared up at the six foot plus powerhouse. "I don't need to clear anything with Franks, this is my god damn lab." Then he took hold of Mira's arm and led her to the last door. It clicked for them so he was right, he was in charge. But Mira would bet good money that soldier boy would be on the phone with Major Franks before the door closed at their backs.

  "This," Doctor Weer said with lack of inflection. "Is the lab." He did not feel particularly proud of it from what she could sense. More the large state of the art facility made him, for want of a better word, cranky. He did not leave her curious about that for long. "It's supposed to be the secondary fail-safe facility in case something happens to me or my main lab, but as far as I can see it's just a big shiny building with a whole lot of mediocre minds struggling to keep up."

  Mira felt her eyes pop at his words. Gee Doctor, she thought. Tell me how you really feel.

  "Come on," he said with obvious cantankerous leanings. "I'll introduce you to the Doctor in charge of this rabble. Probably a waste of time to meet anyone else. They come and go so fast around here it's impossible to keep them straight. Hopefully, with an expert in whatever the hell you do, that will change."

  That he wasn't holding out hope went unspoken.

  Mira thought about explaining, 'whatever the hell she did' but let it go. She had the feeling if she did take this job, she was going to find that the crusty old curmudgeon at her side was a whole lot of the reason for the high turnaround. Even now lab technicians and probably even a few top scientists in their fields were scuttling out of their way with one look at the Doctor beside her. The tension and fear in the room was building the farther they ventured in.

  "How often did you say you visited this facility?" she asked mildly.

  "Twice a year," came his displeased mutter. "It's a god damn requirement of my contract, though everyone else would like to forget about that."

  She did not ask who the contract was with, or who everyone was. The presence of so many ex-military, who did not seem ex in the least was answer enough. Clearly, though the doctor was in charge, his funding was military and came with certain chaffing expectations.