“There aren’t many answers I can give you, beyond how I met your men and was lucky enough to be rescued by Jaxon.”

If Nick was surprised by her use of Jax’s first name, he gave no indication. His manner was as direct as always, though his tone was kind and patient as he began the interview. Nick might be one tough son of a bitch, but Jaxon had never seen him treat a woman with anything but courtesy. Unless she deserved to be treated otherwise.

“You’re Kira Locke,” he stated, startling her.

“Y-yes . . . But how did you know my name?”

“Quite simply? I’m a PreCog. I sometimes ‘know’ things or ‘see’ events before they happen. Earlier, I had a vision that my men would return early and bring you with them. But I couldn’t see the reason, which is what I was asking the others about when you and Jax walked up.”

Poor thing was stunned. She stared at Nick, mouth hanging open. Jaxon and everyone at the Institute who was involved with the Alpha Project had years to come to grips with the often terrible reality that not everything that went bump in the night was the wind. Kira’s learning curve was going to have to be a lot quicker.

Jaxon laid a hand over hers, rubbing the soft skin on the back with his thumb, trying to comfort the anxiety he could scent coming from her in waves. She glanced at him in surprise but didn’t pull away. Heat seared his hand, spread through his fingers, his limbs. Shot to his groin. He had to let go or embarrass himself in front of her and his boss. Withdrawing, he forced himself to concentrate on putting her at ease.

“We all have special abilities, which you know. You’ve seen some of them, and it’s going to take some adjustment for you to fully accept. But right now, what’s important is telling Nick what led you to us.”

“Okay. This is going to sound nuts.” Realizing the irony, she laughed. Then she licked her lips and took a breath, obviously trying to regroup. “Until tonight, I was a lab assistant at NewLife Technology. They’re worldrenowned in the medical field for making strides in treating cancer, AIDS, and just about any illness or disease you can think of.”

“I’ve heard of NewLife, and they’ve made some excellent strides,” Nick said. “Go on.”

“A few months ago, I began to notice some unusual happenings. The doctor I work under, Gene Bowman, started staying late and sending everyone else home, including me. That was remarkable enough because the man’s a dictator when it comes to all of us putting in extra hours. Not necessarily due to his dedication to finding a cure for whatever we’re researching, but because he doesn’t believe in doing the grunt work for himself when he’s got the rest of us being paid to do it.”

“So you became suspicious of his project?”

“More like curious, at first. Then I found out from some of the other techs that Dr. Bowman wasn’t working alone. Another doc was working with him, behind securely closed doors, and his assistants were being sent home, too.”

“Who’s the second doctor?” Nick asked.

“Ivan Rhodes. He’s a few years younger than Bowman, but they’re both brilliant. They’re also very subtle about reminding the peons just how great they think they are.” Her nose wrinkled as though she’d bitten into a lemon.

Jaxon began to form a profile. “Passive-aggressive types?”

“Exactly. The kind who’ll say something with a smile, and you nod, thinking, Did he just insult me? They’re pros at twisting their words, or yours, especially if it will take you down a peg or two.” She shrugged. “I could’ve found another job in the field a long time ago, but the odds of finding a doctor to work for who doesn’t have an ego? Good luck with that.”

Nick stood and went around his desk, taking a seat in his chair. “That’s interesting, but a couple of stuffed-shirt doctors working late, especially when searching for a cure for any number of diseases, isn’t exactly alarming. What changed?”

“You’re right, and I probably would’ve dismissed it altogether if the two of them hadn’t started acting strange. To me, anyway. I mean, these guys weren’t really buddies, but all of a sudden they were whispering in corners, acting excited about something. A couple of times they seemed to have a difference of opinion that got kind of heated. I heard Orson Chappell’s name once, and Bowman said something about a meeting with him and the board members.”

“Chappell,” Jaxon said, sitting up straight. “I got a vision from one of the men I eliminated tonight. He told a man in a lab coat he wasn’t being paid enough to deal with ‘Chappell’s freaky God complex,’ as he called it. The guy in the lab coat asked whether he’d rather be Chappell’s next subject, making it a threat. The man told the lab coat guy to stay out of it. He was nervous, scared his companion was going to squeal to Chappell, and he was worried about cops.”

Kira turned to stare at him. “What did the man in the lab coat look like?”

For a second, he was thrown. He’d expected her to question his vision, or laugh it off as ridiculous. That she seemed to take him at face value filled him with something very much like pride. It was one thing to be accepted by his Pack brothers. But from an outsider, this woman . . . For some reason that seemed significant. Special.

“Fortyish. Medium height and build, brown hair. I didn’t get the color of his eyes.”

“That could be Dr. Rhodes, but it’s hard to say. He fits that description, but so do a lot of men. NewLife is a big place.”

“Chappell is the CEO of NewLife.” Nick cocked his head, a funny look clouding his face. Sitting back in his chair, he fell silent, staring into space.

“That’s right.” When he didn’t respond to Kira, she turned to Jaxon, keeping her voice low. “Is he doing his woo-woo thing?”

He had to smile at her description. “Yeah. Unlike me, he doesn’t have to touch an object to receive a vision, though he can and that will sometimes make the vision clearer to him.”

“Will he be okay? Your vision really wiped you out,” she observed.

“He’ll be fine. He’s more powerful than any of us, in either form.”

Even so, Jaxon couldn’t help but worry two minutes later when his boss finally snapped out of his trance. His eyes seemed more shadowed, darker than usual, and for just a second, as his gaze bounced between them, Jaxon could’ve sworn he saw a flash of something like regret there.

“Nicky? You cool?”

The man shook himself and swiped a hand down his face. “I’m good. Where were we?”

“Orson Chappell.”

“Right.” He seemed to be having trouble shaking the haze.

“Did you see something important?”

“Just spaced out for a sec. Nothing too clear.”

He won’t look at me. He’s lying. A chill chased down his spine. But there was no time to press Nick on what was wrong, not that he’d tell Jaxon anyway.

The older man stood abruptly. “You know what? It’s damned late and we’re all tired. We’ll finish this tomorrow after we’ve all had a decent night’s sleep and some breakfast. I’ll see you both back here at eight.”

“Sure,” Jaxon said slowly. What the hell? He frowned, not bothering to mask his concern. “Kira, would you wait outside for a minute?”

“No problem.” Glancing between them, she rose and slipped out, shutting the door behind her.

“All right, fess up,” Jaxon said quietly. “What happened just now?”

“Nothing you need to be concerned about.”

“Bullshit. You look ready to pass out.”

“I’m fine. It’s you who’s ready to crash, not me. Now get the hell out and take care of our new addition before she wanders off.” He softened his words with a smile.

Stubborn bastard. “Fine. But I’m here to talk if you need me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

No sense in beating his head against the wall. Once his stubborn boss made up his mind to keep his lips firmly shut, not even a crowbar could pry them open.