Page 21 of He Is Jensen: Part Two

“You’ll get your proof.” The words are absolute, as if whatever he was looking for in that inspection, he found. As if that changes something. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m reading into his reaction.

He shifts his attention to my shoulder. “Let me check out my handiwork and decide if I need to throw a couple stitches into the wound.”

“You don’t,” I assure him, but I let him unwrap my arm and study the damage. “It’s almost healed, and the pain is all but gone. It must not have been as deep as it felt.”

He tosses the T-shirt in the trash, and I glance at my arm, confirming the wound has already begun to close.

“If ICE heals you this quickly,” he says thoughtfully, “then surely Julian was right when he said ICE would cure your cancer.”

Julian told me the same thing, but I didn’t dare to really believe it. I wet my suddenly dry lips and curse the hope that flares inside me. I don’t want another crushing blow like the failure in Germany. “It doesn’t really matter unless we find an antidote for withdrawal. Until then, I’m dead when we run out of ICE.”

Jensen reaches for me, and I hold up a hand. “Don’t. Don’t feel sorry for me. God, please don’t feel sorry for me.” I laugh without humor, and that reaction is a symptom of bottled-up emotions I can only hope Jensen doesn’t notice. “That’s exactly everything I don’t want from you or anyone else,” I add, and I hate how raspy my voice has become, how telling of what is really going on inside me.

He stares at me, his gaze probing, seeing too much. “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore. You have me. And you have the Renegades, who are my family, who can be yours. If you let them inside, if you trust them.”

Not family. The people obligated to care for me, like the families at the cancer treatment center. The idea of that just destroys me. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Layla,” he presses gently, trying to reach for me again.

I scoot off the lab stool and back away from him, thankful he doesn’t pursue, yet upset that he doesn’t. “We need to find a common denominator in the ICE deaths. A variation in the ICE formula. A blood type. Sickle cell. Arthritis. It could be anything. It could be that they are all smokers. Or they’re diabetic. I need to run tests, and I need the records you have so I can get to work. Bodies would be better.”

“We have the records and—” He motions to the sink in the corner when I survey the blood staining my skin, remnants of the earlier incident with the tracking device. “You can clean up your arm there and bandage it.”

“Thanks.” I head in that direction and start washing up.

“We’ve tried to get the bodies,” he explains, undeterred by talking to my back, “but the government won’t give them to us.”

I dry my arm and tend to it then grab a lab coat hanging on a coatrack, eager to get to work. “I don’t understand. Why give you the records and not the bodies?”

“They have their scientists working on the issue. We have ours. We get what they deem relevant.” He walks to a desk and powers up a laptop. “As I said, we have a tenuous relationship with them at best. We all want Julian to be brought to justice and humanity to be safe. Unfortunately, the government believes safety means all GTECHs, us included, have to be controlled or eradicated. And since they’ve tried control and it didn’t work, they’re leaning toward eradication.”

I shake my head. “Powell really created a mess with the GTECH program, didn’t he?”

“Welcome to a little slice of my life.” He motions to the computer. “Let’s get you online with our scientific team.”

I close the distance between us as he dials the phone and sets up the teleconference. Not long after, he offers me the chair in front of the desk and pulls another up to sit beside me. His finger hovers over a computer key.

“Ready to meet your new co-workers?”

I nod, surprised at how ready I really am. For the first time since I found out about Julian and his evil plans, I might just have a chance to do something about it. To stop him.

Jensen punches a key. A pretty blonde woman appears on the screen wearing a lab coat, her hair pulled back in a conservative knot.

“Layla,” Jensen says, a hand motioning to the screen. “Meet Katie Stein, director of science and medicine for the Renegades, and a royal pain in my ass. Nevertheless, damn good at what she does.”

“The only ass is Jensen,” Katie retorts, but there’s no mistaking the tease in her voice. “But I’m sure you’re figuring that out by now.”

I barely contain a smile as I note Jensen’s grimace followed by a low grumble.

“Am I late?” comes another female voice a second before yet another pretty blonde appears on the screen. Her hair floats in silky strands around her shoulders as she murmurs something to Katie.

Jensen leans closer to me. “That’s Addie,” he murmurs, his voice for my ears only. “She’s the lifebond of Creed. The king of dark and cranky.”

“I heard that, Jensen,” Addie declares, pursing her lips at the camera. “Don’t be an asshole. Creed isn’t cranky. He’s protective and cautious. He’s also your friend. And he’s waiting for you in the east wing of Neon with some of Layla’s personal items.”

Amazingly, I find myself laughing at Jensen’s exchange with Addie, and it feels good. These people are friends who know and love each other, nothing like the stiff, cold existences inside Zodius. And the lead scientific director is a woman. Another something Julian would never have allowed.

Addie eyes me. “I wanted to let you know that I went inside your house to pick up your things. I felt a bit like an intruder, but I tried to make up for it by picking out the things that seemed the most important to you.”