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battle for dominance could have cost her life.
As she pulled off her boots and yanked down her pants, suddenly she realized
why Hunter was so panicked. She could be cut down like a dog that was thought
to have rabies!
Turning slowly with her arms extended, she fought not to double-check the
places that had healed. All she could do was say a little prayer. When she saw
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Hunter again, she would seriously thank that man for making her eat raw
venison.
"Is this okay, or do I have to lose the underwear?" she called out dryly. But
her insides were jumping.
"Aw, baby. You look like a Victoria's Secret model, Trudeau, but you're gonna
have to lose the bra and panties."
She smiled. Leave it to Winters to kick the bullshit. "Ha, ha, ha," she said
flatly into a monitor, placing her hands on her hips. She squinted to see him
better through the distorted glass. She could make out his boyish face, shock
of brunette hair, and the way he wiggled his impish eyebrows at her. "In your
dreams."
"Every last one of 'em," he said, laughing. "These de-cons are wreaking havoc
with my water bill."
"Knock it off, Winters," McGill said with a smile in her voice. The heavyset
blonde in her mid-forties ran the lab, and she pushed away from her desk to
bring blood-drawing supplies to the cutout in the decontamination cell. "Some
shaman you are. If you can't tell she hasn't been mauled while she's wearing
that getup, then her stripping all the way down wouldn't do you much good
anyway. Get a new set of contact lenses."
"Thank you, Clarissa," Sasha said with a wry smile. It was nice to have
another female present who had her back. "Next time I'll wear cotton drawers
so Winters has a better excuse."
"Well, our resident psychic should have known that I wait for these
decontamination moments with you, Trudeau. I have fantasies about the tank,
baby one day it'll be me and you under glass."
"For that, Bradley would have to pull out his ancient spell books," Sasha
said, laughing.
Joking around, even for a moment, was the MASH humor she needed to regain her
balance. The rest of them needed it, too. Who wanted to be the one to make the
call to have a friend and coworker put down? These decons were always tense.
When Bradley didn't answer, she squinted through the thick glass trying to see
the expression of the lab team's dark arts expert, loving it when Winters
could break his moody facade. The man was only about thirty-five but had the
countenance of a British aristocrat which made him seem so much older. She
could only see half of Bradley's face above his endless rows of satellite
equipment. His brow was furrowed and his glasses had slid down his nose. His
eyes seemed tired, like he'd been up all night tracking her on radar.
"How about it, Bradley," Sasha called out, needling him. "Do you have anything
in those spooky books of yours, like saltpeter spells, that can cure a horny
computer lab tech? Or can we just do away with these stupid decontaminations
altogether? What do you say, guys? I'm gonna start wearing swimwear under my
fatigues if you all don't stop gawking and hurry up to give me the all clear."
"Patience, patience, just turn around for me slowly so I can capture the body
image& on my screensaver," Winters said, laughing.
"Ooooh, I will hurt you bad when I get out of here," Sasha said, chuckling.
Bradley finally smiled. "Don't knock the decons, Trudeau. Winters can't help
it. I live for these moments, too. Love the black lace this time."
"Oh, so the guys are joining forces again, are they?" Sasha shook her head.
"Can I get dressed?"
"I cannot believe you guys give her such a hard way to go. Don't worry,
Trudeau. I'll slip something in their coffee that'll make both these lab rats
behave."
"You ladies are so mean to guys locked in a lab eighteen hours a day. Can't
even go looking for hotness on the Internet without "
"Heads up, brass in pursuit. Corridor five and closing," Bradley announced.
"Trudeau, you're clear. Get dressed."
Sasha snatched up her clothes and began yanking them on. She quickly thrust
her arms through the cutout so Clarissa could draw her blood. By the time she
was lacing up her boots, the entire chain of command for the project was
there: General Donald Wilkerson, Colonel Matt Vlasco, Lieutenant Colonel Ralph
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Waters, Major John Adams, Project Leader and Geneticist Dr. Xavier Holland.
She watched the doctor's staff begin scurrying around after the exchange of
appropriate salutes and greetings. She noted how Doc walked from monitor to
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