Page 9

Mirage

Mirage lay on the new mattress he’d ordered to replace the soft one he’d been given, thinking about the man who’d been behind the door of the silent suite.

Mirage had been sneaking down to the lab for the last few weeks, investigating the foreign elements in the serum that altered his neurophysiologicalstates.

The doctor and scientist in him couldn’t ignore what they were injecting into his blood.

He liked the physical enhancements, but a part of him didn’t want his emotions fucked with. Mirage felt too much. He sensed others too deeply.

And he never wanted to erase his love and admiration for his parents.

The pain of their deaths was still there, though not as debilitating as before. He could tolerate the memories and look back on them with gratitude for the many good times they’d had.

Mirage was positive his parents, who believed in healing lives, not taking them, wouldn’t be happy with his new profession. But maybe he’d do a job that resulted in saving a life or even a country, and they’d smile down on him with pride.

Another few weeks passed, and despite Mirage’s continued late-night trips to the laboratory, he hadn’t seen the man who’d made his heart race, but somehow, he knew he was still around.

Somewhere lurking in the darkness.

Mirage stood in front of the window, watching the city go by while consuming his third microwaved meal in the last hour.

He wasn’t an overeater, so he assumed his body needed more sustenance to maintain the energy he was exerting every day in training.

The phone in his apartment, with no keypad, rang. It was one of two people: the managing scientist from the lab requesting he come in for analysis or the same female voice he assumed operated in an administrative capacity because she never said hello or engaged in pleasantries. She did her job and hung up.

“Speak,” he answered.

“You’re required on brown floor five, suite two,” the female instructed, and then the line went dead.

He threw out the rest of his Salisbury steak and potatoes with the little chunks of ice in the center and went to his bedroom to change into his black joggers, Jordan tennis shoes, and a chestnut-colored oversized hoodie.

Mirage left his condo and made his way to the elevator.

He rounded the corner on the Browns’ unit. He’d been in a few rooms on this level for assessments and testing but never to suite number two.

When he passed room four, he picked up a familiar feeling. One he couldn’t forget if he tried.

Mirage stopped and inhaled a deep whiff of vanilla and rich leather. The same fragrances he’d caught outside the silent suite.

He turned in a circle, but no one was there.

Where are you?

His heart rate increased…again. It was an unfamiliar sensation as not much got him excited anymore.

It felt a bit odd but not unwelcome.

The doctor in him always relished a good enigma.

He stood outside suite two and took a couple of calming breaths to regulate his pulse. It was imperative he retain a stoic fa?ade so no one knew he was adjusting the levels of his serums.

Mirage opened the door without knocking.

There were three men in the room. He recognized the one in the too-expensive suit.

The other man sitting at the long conference table eyed him with intrigue as he shuffled through the two files in front of him.

Mirage ignored them both. He was more focused on the man with his back to him at the other end of the room, staring out the floor-to-ceiling window.

His presence seemed to fill the room.

There was an air of mystery and importance about him.

His posture was rigid, his silhouette outlined against the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the glass.

Mirage was stunned by the stranger’s broad back and wide shoulders. He was clad in a stylish, chestnut-colored trench with an oversized hood that cast a shadow over half his face.