Free Running Scared (Mercenaries) by Anne Kane Page B

go wake him now, or do you think you can wait until morning?”
    He was kidding, right? He’d actually go wake this Trace guy up? “I’ve been searching for years. I think it can probably wait until morning. I should probably go try to get some sleep.”
    A hint of a smile curved Jackson’s lips, and he gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Yeah. That grouchy bear thing gets worse if you try to wake him up. I’ll call a team meeting after breakfast and you can tell them whatever you remember. We’re a democratic bunch -- we vote on whether or not to take a mission. For what it’s worth, I’ll put in a good word for you. And I won’t mention what I just saw. I like to see families get reunited, and it’s rare in this godforsaken place. You should go try to get some sleep now. You look tired.”
    She got the feeling that he didn’t smile often, and even now it didn’t quite carry to his eyes. There was something sad lurking in the depths of those dark eyes, something almost haunted. It hit a chord hidden deep inside her. “I am, but sleep is hard to come by. Truth is, I could probably sleep forty-eight hours straight if I could just get my mind to stop running in circles.”
    Jackson nodded sympathetically. “Know the feeling well.” Reaching out, he gently tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
    His fingers brushed her cheek, sending an electric spark of awareness sizzling across the surface of her skin. She’d never felt anything like it, had never reacted to a man’s touch in such an intense way. She turned her face into the palm of his hand, sucking a deep breath into her lungs as she wordlessly asked for more.
    Time slowed as Jackson lowered his head and brushed an achingly sweet kiss across her lips. Heat ignited deep within her, blazing to life at the instant of contact. Eyes closed, she savoured the sweet, sensual caress of his mouth as it moved across hers. He was incredibly gentle, barely touching her and yet she yearned for more. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him close, meld her body with his, remove the clothing that kept them from joining, skin to skin.
    What the hell? She’d never reacted to a man’s touch like this. She was cool. Calm. Always in control. This man was a danger to everything she’d ever learned in the harsh world of the streets. There, letting anyone get too close was dangerous, possibly fatal. And yet…
    Jackson straightened up, his body withdrawing, leaving her feeling cold and bereft. She had to restrain herself from reaching out to pull him back to her.
    “Sleep well, my little flower.” Soft as a feather duster, his voice soothed her ragged nerves, calming her down as nothing else could. He turned, gliding out of the room in perfect silence, leaving her to stare at his retreating back in bewilderment.
    What was it about this man?
    * * *
    Jackson forced himself to keep walking, not looking back. Saralyn touched him in a way no women had ever managed, thawing that corner of his heart that he thought he’d lost when his family had been massacred all those years ago.
    Tomorrow, he’d gather the team and convince them to help her. Right now he needed to do some research of his own. When he’d first looked into the computer room, he could have sworn Saralyn was physically connected to the computer banks through the fingers she had splayed across the screen. Years ago, the government had conducted experiments on street orphans, turning the unfortunate waifs into human/computer hybrids who could do just that. The cybernetic beings had been incredibly talented, able to connect themselves to all types of electronic equipment with a mere touch. The government had been ecstatic at first, picturing a whole new step in man’s evolution.
    Their elation had been short-lived. The newly created cyborgs had proved too volatile to control. They turned on their handlers, refusing to be controlled. Their self-reliant attitudes caused panic and pandemonium in the