Chapter 7

Jane.

I firmly said, "We have to leave now," as I picked up my bag from the table and put on my shoes.

Paul appeared to still want to continue his earlier conversation as he stood beside the couch with his arms crossed. He clenched his jaw and reached for his keys.

Slowly, he followed me to the door and muttered, "Jane. You won't tell me what's going through your mind, will you?"

With my hand on the doorknob, I hesitated. I took a step toward him and put my arms around his neck, turning to face him. I pressed my lips to Paul's and said, "I'm not avoiding you."

I could tell he wasn't quite convinced, even though his demeanor relaxed.

"Let's concentrate on whatever's going on at the facility, and this 'thing,'" I continued, kissing him once again. "Okay, let's discuss everything else later."

Slowly, he nodded, uncertainty and hope mixed in his gaze. I smiled slightly at him and turned back to the door, letting go of him. I looked over my shoulder and saw the longing in his eyes before I opened it. I knew what he wanted, but we couldn't let ourselves get sidetracked right now.

As soon as we stepped into the hallway, I felt his hands on my waist, pulling me closer to him. His lips found mine once more, a fierce urgency driving him. I yielded, allowing myself to be consumed by his passion, and when our kiss finally ended, I looked up at him, my eyes filled with longing.

Paul said against my lips, his voice rough with longing, "I need you."

With a smile on my lips, I moved away a little as my breath stuck in my throat. “Not now, Paul,” I whispered, trying to convey both the urgency and the patience we needed right now. “We have more important things to attend to.”

His eyes remained fixed on mine as he nodded, but there was a tinge of disappointment in them. That's when I decided what to do. We couldn't let ourselves be distracted any longer; our focus had to remain on the task at hand. But I knew he needed something to remind him of me, something that would keep him grounded and focused.

I inhaled deeply as I reached down to unzip his pants. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't protest as I wrapped my hand around him, feeling him harden beneath my touch. He groaned softly, his fingers digging into my hips as I began to move my hand up and down slowly.

Even when we had important things to do, I wanted him to know how much I wanted him. With a sense of resolve, I concentrated on giving him the best handjob he had ever had. As I worked his length in my hand, I could feel his body tremble beneath me, his breaths growing more ragged with each passing second.

I zipped up his trousers and gave him a sly smile as I finally withdrew after what seemed like an eternity. His eyes were full of arousal and thanks, and his face was hot. "Thank you," he said in a raspy voice that was almost audible.

I winked and took hold of his hand as we made our way outside to the car. "Save it for later." I had made sure that we were on the same page and that he wasn't always on my back before it was time to concentrate on our task.

I would have preferred a calmer drive to the facilities. I continued to focus on the road in front of me, occasionally glancing over at Paul. He had one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against his thigh, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

I knew I’d dodged his question, but I didn’t have an answer—not one he’d want to hear, anyway.

"What do you believe Richards wants?" The silence was broken when Paul eventually inquired.

I gave a shrug. “Could be anything. Maybe something’s wrong with the creature.”

I instantly regretted bringing up the merman as Paul's hand clenched on the steering wheel.

"Well, we'll see," he murmured.

The crowd was the first thing I saw when we drew up to the facility.

“Is that... a protest?” As we got closer to the gates, I frowned and asked.

Paul shook his head. "I'm not sure. But that’s a lot of people for this place.”

The crowd was packed tightly outside the main entrance, voices overlapping as people shouted and waved signs. Some appeared to be concerned citizens, while others were reporters with cameras. At the gates, security officers tried to keep the peace, but it was obvious that they were overcrowded.

"What on earth is happening?" Paul murmured as he parked.

We stepped out, and the noise hit me like a wave.

"This way!" A reporter yelled and pushed a microphone in the direction of a man carrying a banner that said, "Stop Torturing Non-Humans!"

The reporter asked, "Have you seen anything?"

The man gave a headshake. “No, but everyone knows what goes on in there. Those tests? Those animals? They’re hiding something.”

“Excuse me, coming through!” As we moved closer to the gates, Paul called while displaying his ID.

We had to maneuver past the crowd, which hardly moved. Someone bumped into my shoulder, nearly knocking me off balance, but Paul grabbed my arm, steadying me.

"Hold on to me," he whispered in a hard yet hushed voice.

I took hold of his arm and nodded as we pushed ahead.

“What do you think they’re all here for?” I looked at the signs and asked.

Paul muttered, his jaw clenched, "No idea. But it’s not good. This type of attention won't make Richards happy."

When we arrived at the gates, we showed the security officers our IDs. As the cries of the mob behind us became louder, one of them broke down the barrier and let us in.

Paul murmured, "This is absurd," as we made our way to the main entrance. "How on earth did this happen? Was there a leak of information?"

With a knot in my stomach, I said, "I don't know."

A group of men in dark suits emerged as we got closer to the glass doors. At the center of the group was Richards, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever.

But it wasn’t Richards who caught my attention.

“Is that... the governor?” I stopped in my steps and said.

Paul narrowed his eyes and froze next to me. "Why in the world is the governor here?"

The governor, flanked by two security guards, was deep in conversation with Richards as they walked toward a waiting car.

Paul and I looked at each other, my heart racing. Whatever was going on, it was more important than I had anticipated.