grinned. “Let’s just say he’s put on a little, umm, muscle mass. The guy can pick up a Jeep and throw it if he wants to. Literally.”
Gray’s mind went blank. He couldn’t believe the implications of what she was saying. His old friend had used far-out, experimental science to make a … a … superhero of himself? “Has he become some sort of freak?”
The woman flinched at the word. “Yeah,” she said grimly. “A freak.”
He asked cautiously, “And are you also one of these test subjects?” She didn’t look like she could pick up a Jeep, let alone throw it.
“Yes,” she answered flatly. “I’m a freak, too.”
“You throw Jeeps?”
“No. My special abilities are somewhat different than Jeff’s.”
“Indeed? Do tell.”
That was definitely a wince tightening her facial features. What in the hell was going on with her?
Chapter 2
Sam warily eyed the dark-haired man lounging in the chair across from her. She had to admit, he was a hunk. Although that wasn’t exactly the right word for him. He looked … patrician. Not a word she used frequently, or that frankly ever came to mind. But it fit him. His features were classically handsome. Heck, flat-out well-bred.
“Do people actually call you Grayson?” she asked abruptly.
He looked irritated at the change of topic. Must be the intensely focused type. In her experience, such men made great lovers if they could get over their other hang-ups. But this guy seemed wired pretty tight. Probably would be as boring as they came in bed.
“My friends call me Gray. Why?”
She snorted. “The name suits you.”
A flash of heat flared in his gray-green gaze. Hmm. Maybe not so boring in bed, after all. Were he not Jeff’s friend, she might be tempted to find out for sure.
“What’s your super-ability, then?” he demanded.
She never just up and told people about herself like this. But Jeff had been clear. She was to brief in Grayson Pierce fully on Code X. And orders were orders. Taking a deep breath, she removed her sunglasses.
He stared like everyone did at her eyes. No human had eyes that color. At least no normal human did. She knew good and well that she looked like an alien with her eyes uncovered like this.
He mumbled, “Okay, so your eyes are a unique shade of … of gold. And it’s very striking, by the way. Surely that’s not why Jeff sent you here.”
Striking. What a polite word for weird. Her eyes were brilliant, freaking yellow. She responded drily, “I imagine he sent me here because I can read a newspaper from a hundred feet away.”
“That’s it! An eagle,” he exclaimed.
“Excuse me?” That was not the usual reaction she got from people when they saw her real eye color or first heard about her eyesight. Usually they called her a damned liar and demanded a demonstration.
“You reminded me of a predator earlier, but I couldn’t figure out which kind. It’s a bird of prey. A powerful one like an eagle.”
“My eyesight is better than an eagle’s,” she responded, more than a little flummoxed. “They rely on spotting movement, whereas my superior human brain can better process and analyze acuity-based input.” She broke off before she could descend into even greater geekdom. She wasn’t about to give this guy the slightest advantage over her if she could avoid it.
“Seriously?” he blurted.
“Seriously.”
His face lit up. “Surveillance. I’ll bet that’s why Jeff sent you here.”
“Could be. My eyes don’t require any electronic enhancements to do their thing.”
“If you were to look at a person, how far away could you be and still make a positive facial ID?”
She shrugged. “A mile or so, day or night.”
“Huh?”
“I see as well at night as during the day.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Call Jeff if you don’t believe me.”
“I think I’d rather see a demonstration in person.”
There it was. The skepticism and mistrust. This was more like it. She was back on familiar territory with this man who, up till now, had put her so off her stride. She shrugged casually. “Sure. When it gets dark.”
“Why not now?”
She glanced at the heavily covered windows. “Sun’s out. Small drawback of my eyesight—I have about ten times as many rods in my eyes as you do. Cones see color, but rods are light receptors. And that means I’m a wee bit sensitive to bright light.”
“After dark, then. It’s a date.”
Surely he’d meant those words innocently. But their double meaning sent a ripple of something she’d rather not name through her body. He really was gorgeous in a mysterious, brooding way. He was far too clean-cut for her usual taste, though. She went for wild guys. Losers with no ambition or, more important, no sense of self-preservation.
Gemma Jones said Sam had a death wish but pushed it onto her lovers rather than face it in herself. Whatever the heck that meant. Sam had had enough of well-meaning but clueless counselors after she’d landed on the streets in her teens and periodically got dragged into shelters by various do-gooders.
She stood up, acutely aware of Gray’s sharp gaze on her. For a moment, she almost regretted her choice of leather, then thought better of it. Let the guy look. It wasn’t like he was ever going to get a taste of any Sam candy. With a toss of her head, she announced, “I’m going to go catch a few hours’ sleep. I do my best work at night.” And she darned well meant that double entendre.
She lived nights, truth be told. But she wasn’t about to share any more of her personal life than she had to with this man who already knew enough about her to make her feel naked. And frankly, the sensation was unsettling. Grayson Pierce was far too attractive for his own good. She needed to get away from him for a little while. Get her feet back under her.
She had yet to hear about the guy whose pictures were spread all over the kitchen counter and why Jeff had asked her and Gray to check him out, but that would have to wait until she could think clearly. Until she’d achieved a little emotional distance from the disturbing man staring intently at her.
“The second bedroom’s pretty small,” he offered, “but it’s clean and reasonably comfortable.”
It sounded like he’d had to go to some effort to achieve both. “Thanks,” she muttered. She relished
