A Father's Sacrifice. Mallory Kane

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      “They were kind enough to give me a tour of one that’s based—well, nearby. Its first level is fifty feet underground.”

      Natasha’s eyes widened.

      “My lab would have been on the third level down. The day-care center and the living quarters were on the fourth level. NSA offered me two choices. Ben could stay there with me, or he could be placed with strangers under a fake name until I finished their damn project.” The idea still sent nausea clawing up from his gut.

      “I can’t bear to let him out of my sight. He wouldn’t understand. He’d think I’d abandoned him.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “And I couldn’t bury him under fifty feet of rock and dirt, either.”

      “No—of course not.” Her voice sounded strangled. “So you offered them a third choice.” She cut her eyes at him then back to the ground in front of them.

      What was the matter with her? Dylan’s defenses rose immediately. Did she disapprove of his choice? Ben was his son—and he was protecting him in the best way he knew how. “That’s right. If they wanted their precious supersoldier, they’d give me what I wanted.”

      “So they set up this fortress for you, and now you believe Ben is safe.” She pressed her lips together in a thin line and wrapped her arms around her middle.

      Dylan stared at her. Whatever was hidden under her cool exterior, it was exposed now. She looked haunted. He could understand her being upset about Ben being confined to this place. He hated it, too. But her reaction was out of proportion.

      “We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think it was safe. Protecting my child is my first priority.”

      She didn’t look at him. Instead she turned her head and looked at the house. An almost unnoticeable shudder rippled through her.

      “Ben is happy here,” he said defensively. “He has the run of the entire house. He has his own camouflaged, secure play area with a wading pool and sandboxes and specially built toys.”

      He wasn’t sure why he felt he had to justify himself to her. He just knew that when she looked at him, her green eyes dug deep inside him to a place he hadn’t explored in a long time. A place that hurt.

      She nodded jerkily.

      “Look, Agent Rudolph. I love my son. I’m protecting him. Did you see how quickly and easily that intruder was caught? I’ve got the best security money can buy.”

      She turned those green eyes on him. “Then why are you still worried about his safety?”

      He felt as though she’d head-butted him.

      Anger flared in his chest, and a worm of guilt gnawed at his gut. He jammed his hands into his back pockets to keep from clenching his fists. Careful to speak calmly, he gave her the truth.

      “Because despite all this, I know there can never be a place safe enough. There is evil in the world, murderers and fanatics who will do anything, even harm an innocent child, to get what they want.”

      She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Then explain something to me. If you’re so concerned about Ben’s safety, why don’t you just stop? Tell the NSA to shove their neural interface.”

      Shock cut through him like lightning. “You think I’m doing this for them? For the government?” A harsh laugh scratched his throat. His chest tightened as he tried to wipe away the vision that never left his mind. The sight of that hulking twisted metal at the bottom of the ravine. The sick certainty that it was his fault.

      As Natasha watched Dylan’s face in the soft light of dawn, the truth hit her like a bucket of icy water.

      Ben’s awkward braces. His nerve damage. The fervor that burned in his father’s eyes.

      She’d been so preoccupied with overcoming her own fears and her concern for the child that she’d missed the obvious.

      “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “The interface. You’re doing it for Ben.”

      Dylan’s face registered sadness and desperation. “He’s in a growth spurt right now.” His voice was tortured. “His body is sucking energy into growing bone. Even with intense physical therapy, the neurological damage is progressing faster than his body can fight it. He’s losing muscle, and with loss of muscle goes the loss of nerve tissue.” He scrubbed a hand across his face, and started walking again.

      “We’re so close to success. Campbell is working on the final debugging. He’s already finished the prototype implant. It’s ninety-nine percent done. But in order for it to work it needs viable nerve and muscle to stimulate. I only have a few weeks before the damage to Ben’s body is too great.”

      “A few weeks?”

      He nodded. “I need to implant the interface and tie the microfibers into Ben’s nervous system before the nerves that control his legs all die.”

      Natasha matched her pace to his. “So it’s Ben who’s running out of time,” she said, sadness gripping her heart in its heavy fist.

      He nodded. “There aren’t enough hours in a day. I could complete it tomorrow, or it could take a year. I’ve got to believe it will happen tomorrow. If I could, I’d let NSA move the prototype, but it’s much too fragile.”

      “Who’ll be operating on Ben?”

      Dylan’s brows raised. “Me, of course.”

      She was surprised. “You? Don’t you think you’re too emotionally involved?”

      “It doesn’t matter if I am or not. There are only three neurosurgeons in the world who have the expertise to handle this intricate microscopic surgery.”

      “Only three?”

      He nodded grimly. “Two besides me.”

      “Who are they?”

      “There’s no way you’d know them. One is Mohan Patel, at the University of Mumbai in India. The other is Frederick Werner. He’s at Johns Hopkins. I studied under him.”

      “Why couldn’t one of them do the operation?”

      “Because Ben is my son.” His expression darkened. “I don’t need someone else to do the surgery. I’ve been preparing for this for three years. Besides, it’s all moot if I can’t complete the nerve mapping in time.”

      “And the code? It’s still buggy?”

      “There’s at least one more error we can’t find.” He sighed. “Campbell and I have looked at it too long. We need a fresh eye. And now we’ve got a hacker trying to steal the code almost certainly to sell to some foreign government. That’s why I asked NSA to send me the best.”

      They reached the entrance to the back stairs. Dylan pressed his thumb against the pad and keyed in the current pass code. He held the heavy security door open for her.

      As she walked past him, he caught her arm. His hot touch branded her through the sleeve of СКАЧАТЬ