We're clear. Ian indicated they had located one of the cars and were safely away. We can circle around and pick you up.

Jeff? Ryland wanted medical care for the man as soon as possible. There was no telling what was going on in the over-stimulated brain. He raced across the roof and leapt to the covering of the next building. It was slick from the rain and he slid precariously, fell on his backside just as a barrage of bullets whistled by him.

He needs medical attention. Give us your position.

Ryland crawled across the roof, not taking a chance on skylining himself with trigger-happy guards. If Cowlings was telling the truth and he'd already been a target twice, chances were good the guards had been ordered to shoot to kill. The roof had a door leading to a small stairwell. I'll make it to you. Stay in position. Shots have been fired. Stay out of the area.

The door was locked. Ryland didn't waste time, he simply crawled to the far side of the building and peered over into the street. There was a small overhang to shade the entrance to a store. Ryland dropped onto it, fought for a purchase in the rain-soaked wood, slid a few inches before he caught himself. From there he jumped to the sidewalk. The landing was hard, jarring him.

There was an alley a few feet to his right but he didn't trust that it would bring him to the street he needed. He forced air into his body, slowed his breathing, and melted into the shadow of the building. There was only the sound of the rain as it poured from the skies. The roar of the wind as it showed its fury. Clouds boiled overhead, black cauldrons of spinning dark angry threads spawning veins of lightning arcing from cloud to cloud. Ryland's luck held and the lightning didn't flash close to him, allowing him to slip silently through the street to the corner where the car was waiting with the motor running and the passenger door open.

He leapt into the seat, slamming the door closed as Gator took off so fast they fishtailed in the rain-soaked road. Ryland turned to look at Jeff lying so quiet and pale on the backseat. "Is he alert?"

Ian shook his head. "He's been down since the seizure. Gator and I carried him to the car, but we couldn't bring him around. I hope the lady doctor knows what she's doing or we're going to lose him."

There was silence in the car. Too many had been lost already. None of them knew if it was inevitable or not.

LILY stared out the window as the limousine glided through the rain-wet streets. She'd left her little car in the parking lot and was thankful that John had come to get her. Where was Ryland? Had he made it to the house yet? She felt almost numb with terror for him. She didn't expect to feel this way. She couldn't, think of her father, or the conspiracy. She couldn't think about the other men somewhere out in the ferocious storm fighting their way to freedom. She could only think of him. Ryland Miller.

She ached for him. She closed her eyes and he was there, behind her eyelids, sharing her skin. It was revolting and juvenile and illogical, but none of that mattered. She couldn't force her thoughts away from him. She had to know if he was alive or dead. If he was injured. It frightened her how strong her need was to see him, to touch him, to hear the sound of his voice. She didn't dare reach out to him telepathically, not when the stakes were so high and his total concentration was needed where he was.

The garage door opened smoothly and the limousine rolled into the huge garage. To her relief there were several other cars parked in the garage. For a moment she laid her head against the headrest and let her breath out slowly. The limousine halted and her chauffeur turned off the motor.

"John, thanks for coming to get me in this awful storm. I'm sorry for dragging you out, but I was so tired and I didn't want to stay at Donovans overnight." Nothing could have induced her to stay at the laboratories now that Ryland was no longer there. It was strange, almost terrifying, how bereft she felt.

"I'm glad you called me, Miss Lily. We were all worried about you. Why were there so many guards poking through the car? They've never done that before." The chauffeur turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow, but he refrained from saying a single word about the disappearance and reappearance of storm-drenched cars in their garage.

"I'm sorry, John, it's a classified thing to do with the military." She slid from the car, swaying with weariness. She could hear the wind howling at the doors of the garage and she shivered. "What a ghastly night."

He glared at her as he opened the driver's side door. "You didn't eat today, did you? Not a single thing."

Lily leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "Stop worrying so much about me, John. I'm a sturdy woman, not a delicate waif."

"I have a feeling I'll always worry about you, Lily. This thing with your father… I'm damnably sorry." John shook his head. "I thought he might be found, but he'd never stay away from you this long. And if it was a kidnap for ransom, or even secrets of some kind, we would have heard."

Lily could see the lines of age in his face, the tinge of gray to his coloring. She put her hand on his arm. "I know how much you loved him, John. I'm sorry for both of us." His sorrow was beating at her, profound and deep, slashing at her unprotected mind.

Lily closed her eyes for a moment, worried about Ryland Miller and his men. She wanted to check with Arly and make certain they had arrived and were safe within the thick walls of her home. Compassion welled up as she studied her chauffeur. John suddenly appeared fragile and looked his age. It caught her by surprise. She didn't want to lose John.

"He was my friend, Lily, my family. I knew your father when he was a boy. My father worked for his family. I think I was his only friend growing up in that house. His life was hell in that house. His parents and grandparents had been carrying on some sort of experiment to have a child of great intelligence. He was unloved, merely a product of breeding the right genes. His parents never talked to him unless it was to insist on his studying. He wasn't allowed to play sports or play with toys or even associate with other kids. They wanted a highly developed brain and everything he did even as a child was to that end. And when you"-he hesitated-"came along," he improvised, "Peter vowed he wouldn't be like his parents. I talked to him many times about his absentmindedness. I know it hurt you when he couldn't remember your important events." He shook his head sadly. "He did love you, Lily. For all his strange ways, he did love you very much."

But Peter Whitney had been like his parents. Exactly like his parents. He had followed in their footsteps until something had opened his eyes. Lily put her arms around John as he got out of the car, hugging him. "Does everyone in the household know I'm not his biological daughter?"

John Brimslow stiffened, jerked back to glare down at her. "Who told you that?"

"He did," she said. "In a letter."

He passed his hand over his face, then gripped her arms. "You were everything to Peter." He cleared his throat. "And to me. To all of us. You brought sunshine to us, Lily. Rosa could never have children. Arly dated a multitude of women but he never could tolerate anyone's company but his own for very long. We're a family of misfits, Lily. You've always known about me, I never hid who I am from you. We built the family around you."

Lily smiled at him, grateful for his words. "John, do you know how my father came to adopt me?"

John shifted uncomfortably. "Your father went overseas. Some people might say he bought you, Lily, I don't know how much money was involved, but does that matter now? You didn't have a family and neither did we."