same. Geez,
she'd thought the house would blow down with every orgasm. So why the lack of
data during the approximate times the weather had gone downhill? Why had the
storm she'd experienced disappeared and left no evidence?
We've
never been able to substantiate reports that Petty Officer Begnaud has ever
directly affected the weather, because meteorological proof other than
localised damage his never been found.
Now
she understood what her boss at the Agency for Covert Rare Operatives—ACRO—had
tried to tell her. If Remy affected storms, he did it… invisibly.
Which
was utterly absurd. She'd seen a lot at ACRO, enough to turn her conceptions of
what was possible and what wasn't upside down, so while she couldn't rule out a
form of telekinesis that controlled the weather, she couldn't wrap her brain
around phantom storms that didn't appear in satellite photos.
Not
so ridiculous, however, was the theory that weather affected Remy's behavior.
Atmospheric
pressure, sunshine, humidity… those elements and more had forever influenced
human, animal and plant life in ways not completely understood by the science
community. Some could be rationalized, some couldn't. As a parameteorologist,
it was her job to explain the unexplained. Or at least prove the unexplained
does, indeed, exist. Mysterious phenomenon like ball lightning, a controversial
subject that sat solidly between two camps—believers and disbelievers—was a
personal favorite. Remy, however, might just top ball lightning as her new
fave.
The
power-that-be at ACRO would be disappointed if Remy couldn't control the
weather, but they'd find a use for him even if some lesser connection existed.
What they planned to do with him wasn't her concern; her career was, and her
future depended upon her ability to learn the truth.
Learn
the truth in any way possible, something ACRO's chief of operations, Devlin
O'Malley, had made clear.
"Mr.
O'Malley, I have a few questions," she said.
His
fingers traced circles on the oak desk that separated them. He wore the same
black BDUs every operative with an exceptional talent wore when they walked the
halls of the main ACRO compound, and though he was the big boss, his white ID
badge identified him as no one more important than
an
operative assigned to the Medium department in the Paranormal Division.
Haley
fingered her own tag, bearing the light blue of the Science Division. As a
"civilian " with no special abilities, she wore what she wanted,
which usually meant pantsuits, but today she'd opted for a skirt, which left
her feeling strangely vulnerable in front of this blind man whom she'd spoken
with only twice, very briefly, before now.
"It's
Devlin. Mr. O 'Malley was my father, "he said finally.
She
nodded. His name suited him. Strong, mysterious, sexy. As dark as his short
brown hair that was always spiky, like he couldn't keep his fingers out of it.
"Devlin,
I've got some problems with the assignment I was given."
"Such
as?"
"I
don't want it, " she said bluntly. "I don't have the kind of training
your other operatives do. And I'm not a first contact person. I'm a
scientist."
A
scientist who was being asked to take a crash course in first contact
procedures, which meant boning up on self-defense maneuvers, learning covert
operation techniques, and studying the psychological art of seduction. She'd
gone through months of initial operative training when she first joined the
agency, but it hadn't been the extensive military-type instruction the field
operatives with special abilities received. Now, suddenly, ACRO wanted to
remedy some of that.
"Not
all first contact personnel have special abilities. More importantly, you're
the only person at ACRO with the knowledge and background necessary to
determine Remy Begnaud's talents. You're the only one we need, " Devlin
said, his own military background more than clear in his don't-interrupt-me tone
as he stood, then paced, outlining his plan for her. "You have plenty
she'd thought the house would blow down with every orgasm. So why the lack of
data during the approximate times the weather had gone downhill? Why had the
storm she'd experienced disappeared and left no evidence?
We've
never been able to substantiate reports that Petty Officer Begnaud has ever
directly affected the weather, because meteorological proof other than
localised damage his never been found.
Now
she understood what her boss at the Agency for Covert Rare Operatives—ACRO—had
tried to tell her. If Remy affected storms, he did it… invisibly.
Which
was utterly absurd. She'd seen a lot at ACRO, enough to turn her conceptions of
what was possible and what wasn't upside down, so while she couldn't rule out a
form of telekinesis that controlled the weather, she couldn't wrap her brain
around phantom storms that didn't appear in satellite photos.
Not
so ridiculous, however, was the theory that weather affected Remy's behavior.
Atmospheric
pressure, sunshine, humidity… those elements and more had forever influenced
human, animal and plant life in ways not completely understood by the science
community. Some could be rationalized, some couldn't. As a parameteorologist,
it was her job to explain the unexplained. Or at least prove the unexplained
does, indeed, exist. Mysterious phenomenon like ball lightning, a controversial
subject that sat solidly between two camps—believers and disbelievers—was a
personal favorite. Remy, however, might just top ball lightning as her new
fave.
The
power-that-be at ACRO would be disappointed if Remy couldn't control the
weather, but they'd find a use for him even if some lesser connection existed.
What they planned to do with him wasn't her concern; her career was, and her
future depended upon her ability to learn the truth.
Learn
the truth in any way possible, something ACRO's chief of operations, Devlin
O'Malley, had made clear.
"Mr.
O'Malley, I have a few questions," she said.
His
fingers traced circles on the oak desk that separated them. He wore the same
black BDUs every operative with an exceptional talent wore when they walked the
halls of the main ACRO compound, and though he was the big boss, his white ID
badge identified him as no one more important than
an
operative assigned to the Medium department in the Paranormal Division.
Haley
fingered her own tag, bearing the light blue of the Science Division. As a
"civilian " with no special abilities, she wore what she wanted,
which usually meant pantsuits, but today she'd opted for a skirt, which left
her feeling strangely vulnerable in front of this blind man whom she'd spoken
with only twice, very briefly, before now.
"It's
Devlin. Mr. O 'Malley was my father, "he said finally.
She
nodded. His name suited him. Strong, mysterious, sexy. As dark as his short
brown hair that was always spiky, like he couldn't keep his fingers out of it.
"Devlin,
I've got some problems with the assignment I was given."
"Such
as?"
"I
don't want it, " she said bluntly. "I don't have the kind of training
your other operatives do. And I'm not a first contact person. I'm a
scientist."
A
scientist who was being asked to take a crash course in first contact
procedures, which meant boning up on self-defense maneuvers, learning covert
operation techniques, and studying the psychological art of seduction. She'd
gone through months of initial operative training when she first joined the
agency, but it hadn't been the extensive military-type instruction the field
operatives with special abilities received. Now, suddenly, ACRO wanted to
remedy some of that.
"Not
all first contact personnel have special abilities. More importantly, you're
the only person at ACRO with the knowledge and background necessary to
determine Remy Begnaud's talents. You're the only one we need, " Devlin
said, his own military background more than clear in his don't-interrupt-me tone
as he stood, then paced, outlining his plan for her. "You have plenty
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