Possibilities raced through Reid’s mind. Low-altitude jumps or long swims without breathing tanks. Injuries healed without the need for medical intervention. Experts trained in calculating strategy more efficiently. In short, the perfect warrior. “What’s the problem?”
“It’s not perfected. Dent wants more controlled testing in the lab. Greenhill higher-ups want to show off the new technology now to lock in a military contract with the Navy. It’s his baby, but Greenhill’s made it clear that they’re rolling out the upgrade with or without him.”
Apprehension trickled down Reid’s spine. The admiral. Fuentes had mentioned they were scheduled to impress him. Was the upgraded suit part of the demo? According to the file West had, the accident wouldn’t happen for two more weeks. Something could have changed the timeline and bumped it up. “How do I stop it?”
“Here.” Speaks yanked off his cap and fished out a blue paper. His auburn hair rose straight up in the wind as he handed it to Reid.
“451291218? What is this?”
Speaks pointed to the paper. “D” equals four, “e” equals five. “DELILAH. Get it? Not that original and weird since DELILAH actually helped take Samson down.” Reid’s lack of excitement must have faded Speaks’s smile. “I know. Get to the point. It’s the file number for the formula. If you want to save Samson, you have to wipe out DELILAH.”
“Any ideas about how to do that?”
“My guess is that it’s locked up tight. It may not be in the lab. I know I wouldn’t keep it there.”
He shouldn’t ask, but without the team, he had to brainstorm where he could get the input. “Where would you?”
“In a can. In my freezer.”
Yep. Shouldn’t have asked. “Can you hack into Greenhill’s security system at the base so I can get in the lab?”
Speaks snorted. “Of course. When do you want it done?”
“Tonight.”
Reid leaned against the bar and nursed a beer. The local country dive wasn’t The Song, but it had its own worn-down charm. It appealed to the locals and military personnel stationed in Yuma. Cheers and shots of encouragement rose from the back room. Fuentes and Moore played pool while the rest of the Project Samson team watched. They’d invited him to play, but all he could think about was not failing them. He had to find DELILAH. Speaks claimed the best time to hack in was two in the morning. Waiting to hunt for the formula put him on edge. If he didn’t find it tonight, he’d have to search elsewhere tomorrow. Where? He didn’t have a clue.
Teri, the lab tech, strolled in and sat on the other side of the bar. She’d shed her work persona for a night out. The tight jeans and a low-cut blouse she wore captured male attention. Her gaze strayed his way, and she gave him a coy, I’m-interested look.
He pushed away from the counter. Company was the last thing on his mind, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed to find out more about DELILAH. She would know about Dent’s plans and the upgrades.
“Hey, Teri.” He leaned his elbow on the bar and propped his boot on the bottom of her stool.
“Hi, soldier.” Teri smiled. “Why are you hanging solo tonight?”
“Wasn’t planned. I guess I’ve been too busy to do anything about it. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Really?” She plucked a mini pretzel from a basket in front of her. “Buy me another beer, and I’ll listen to your life story.”
He signaled the bartender to bring her a bottle. “Personally, I think listening to you would be more interesting.”
She laughed. “Oh, no. I love a good mystery.”
Information worked both ways. He had to give it up to receive something in exchange. “All right, I’ll bite. What do you want to know?”
“Your tat.” She tugged up the short sleeve of his sky blue shirt. “Why a dragon with piano keys?”
“I played keyboard in a band when I was younger. I thought it was cool.” Close enough to the truth. He’d gotten the ink in his early twenties. She didn’t need to know he still played or that he’d chosen the image in honor of his grandfather.
“Are you a lifer in the army or just passing through?”
At the time of the helicopter accident in the desert and Dalir’s second chance, he’d just signed his re-enlistment papers. Now, he did the same work with Dalir, just with a better pay grade and no uniform. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else. The risk, never knowing what to expect, making a difference, it suited him. “Lifer.”
She leaned closer, not in an overt way but just enough to give him a better visual of her breasts. “Why did you volunteer for Project Sampson?”
He made himself peek at the glimpse of lace and waited for it. The surge of lust. The tingle in his groin. Nothing. “What’s your guess?”
She sunk her teeth into her full bottom lip as her gaze dropped below his waist. “Bigger, better toys.”
Nope. His cock didn’t even pop up and wave the slightly interested flag. He’d slept with women before on missions. They easily fit into the one-and-done scheme, but not this time.
Her gaze narrowed with a contemplative expression. “Who is she?”
“Who?”