Anarchy Found (28 page)

Never mind that, Lincoln. One moment at a time.

I feel like an asshole for making her happy when I know what will happen later. But I can’t help it. I deserve a little bit of happiness at the end.

Don’t I?

“I don’t want to go to work, Lincoln, but I have to.”

“I know,” I say, lifting her up off my lap and making her stand on her own. I wash her body from top to bottom, lingering on her breasts, tracing the curves of her hips, tugging on her nipples and kissing the frothy bubbles running down her stomach. “But I’m gonna drive you to work today, Molls.”

“Molls?”

“What?”

“My brother used to call me that.”

“He did?” I ask.
Fucking stupid asshole, Lincoln. You got through all this and you fuck it up with one word.

“Yeah,” she says, a touch of sorrow in her voice. “He died six months ago. I miss him so much.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. And I am. I’m sorry for so many things.

“It’s not your fault,” she says, forcing herself to smile though her sadness. “He took so many risks at the end. I begged him not to be so stupid after what happened to our dad.”

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “Come on, we better get dressed.” I don’t want to hear about her father or her brother. Not now. Not after we had this perfect morning. “I’ll ride with you in your car and Sheila can follow us in mine.”

“Sheila drives your car?” Molly laughs, like this is ridiculous.

“There’s a lot more to Sheila than you know.”

“What is she? I don’t get it. I didn’t think the technology was there for such an advanced form of artificial intelligence.”

“It’s not,” I say with half a laugh. “To the general public, anyway. But in secret…” I hesitate, wondering if I’m saying too much.

“Yeah,” Molly says. “I bet there’s so much shit happening in tech research and development that people don’t know about. Military stuff, private stuff.”

I reach over and turn the water off, then grab a towel from the rack outside the shower and start rubbing her down. “You have no idea.”

“What will you do?”

“What?” I ask, looking up at her as I dry her legs in long, slow strokes.

“You explained what you
do
,” she says, emphasizing the word. “But not really what you will do with it. All that research and stuff you talked about. What will you do with it, Lincoln?”

“Cure mental illness, remember?” I say, smiling at her.

“Really?” she says, stepping out of the shower and grabbing another towel to wrap up her hair. I watch her ass as I dry myself off and then follow her into the bedroom.

“You’d like that, right? I just want to make you happy.”

She shoots me a smile over her shoulder, oblivious to the hidden meaning behind my words. “Super-smart.” She laughs. God, I love her laugh. “Super-sexy.” She winks at me, glancing down at my junk. “And super-Alpha. And I mean that in more ways than one, Lincoln Wade.”

“So do I, Molly. So do I.”

She either ignores that remark, or takes it as innocuous. Either way, it buys me more time and lets me drop the conversation and get dressed as I watch her do the same.

“By the way, you lied to me about something.”

“What?” My heart races for a moment as I go looking for my missing glove in the bathroom.

“You told me at the dance that you’d make me wear sexy lingerie every night if I was yours. And I’m yours now, right? So where’s my sexy shit?”

Jesus. How sweet is she? She’s not going to make this easy. “I’m good for it, Molls.” I like the nickname and it’s out of the bag now, anyway. So I’m going to use it.

“I know,” she says, buttoning her blouse and slipping her feet into those cute-as-fuck saddle shoes she likes to wear. “I trust you. Ready?”

I nod and feel a pang of guilt and sadness in my heart. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” We walk outside to her car parked in the driveway and I pull up my Sheila app on my phone and text her to follow us.

“How does that work?” Molly asks, handing me her keys and pointing to my phone as I open the passenger door for her. I love that she already knew I’d want to drive and went to that side automatically.

“She’s wired in everywhere,” I say, waiting for her to settle, then closing her door and walking around to the other side of the car. I get in and start it up. “Put your belt on, Molly.” I point to her seatbelt, but she is busy checking her face in the mirror.

“Bossy,” she replies. But she drags the belt over her shoulder, still looking in the mirror. “I look so tired. Good God, I hope my prick of a boss is not in the mood to scream at me today. I can’t take it anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, backing out of the driveway. I check the rearview to make sure Sheila is following. She doesn’t take control of the car much, but I planned for it and the windows are tinted dark enough to avoid any weird looks.

“That guy is such a dick, Lincoln. I swear, he calls me ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart.’ I can’t fucking stand him. At least when I was in the military people respected me. This guy treats me like trash.”

“Is that right?”

“He’s pissed at me for not making more progress with the suicides.”

I glance over at her.

“I’m not turning you in.”

“Why? It’s your job.”

“Because if these people are connected to Prodigy, then they need to be stopped. What if there’s another school?”

I stare out the window, momentarily stunned silent.

“Lincoln? Have you ever wondered?”

“There’s no other school, Molly.” I reach over and grab her hand to give it a squeeze. “We took them out and put an end to it.”

“But maybe they never gave up? What were they trying to accomplish with that program anyway?”

I don’t want to have this conversation with her. Not after last night. Not after her plea for me to be her hero.

“I mean, I get why they’d want to make superhumans, right? And I get that the only way to really do that was with biological and behavior modification. But to what end?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

“So you don’t know?”

I shake my head.

“Why are you so quiet?”

I let the question hang there. I’m not ready to give this up yet, but I’m not ready to give up what I’ve been working towards, either.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“No,” I say, squeezing her hand again. “There’s nothing to worry about. You’re the only thing I care about now.”

“Well, I’m glad, you know? I’m on your side, Lincoln. And if you felt like these people were a threat, well, I believe you.”

“Good.” I manage a convincing smile, because she smiles back. She chats about work the rest of the way. What she’s willing to lie about, what she thinks she needs to share.

I’m not the least bit worried about getting caught. There is no chance of that at all. Not before it’s all over, anyway.

“Park in space thirty-three,” Molly says when I pull into the station lot. Sheila is still behind me, and she takes a spot a little further down. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Uh, no,” I say.

“What?” she asks as she opens her door and I turn the car off.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Lincoln, you can’t go in there, that’s crazy. You’re killing people.” She whispers it, even though we are still in the car. “It’s my job to arrest you.”

“Relax,” I say. “They don’t know anything. And I just want to see your work. Check it out. Make sure you’re safe. That’s
my
job.”

“It’s the police station, Lincoln. It’s safe.”

“It’s a very corrupt police station, Molly. You might’ve only been here for a couple weeks, but surely a person as in tune with the line between good and evil as you are can see that.”

She lets out a long sigh. “Just please, don’t make a scene.”

“What scene?” I wink at her. She does not think that’s funny because her mouth drops open in shock. Like,
Are you kidding me
? “I promise. Pinky swear and all that girly shit.”

That makes her shake her head with a smile and she gives in.

When we get inside, she greets a kid behind the desk as he buzzes us through to the interior of the department.

“Are you nervous?” Molly asks, holding on to my arm as we walk in. “You kinda look like you belong in handcuffs.”

I chuckle at that. But she’s right. I’m wearing my leather with the bright red anarchy patch on the shoulder, faded jeans from yesterday, and a white t-shirt. My hair is still slightly wet from our shower this morning, and my boots are thudding across the polished floor like they are heralding a menace. “No, I’m not nervous. Where’s your desk?”

“Over there,” she says, pointing to the far side of the room.

“Masters!” a fat man with a wrinkled white shirt and a protruding belly bellows from a fishbowl office. He must be the prick.

“Wait there, OK? I’ll be right back.”

“Got it,” I say, pulling her back for a kiss. She smiles into my mouth and I have to tuck down an urge to smack her ass. Humiliating women is not something I’m into though, so disrespecting her at work is out of the question.

She walks off and enters the fishbowl. Her boss points to me, still only twenty or so feet away, and Molly explains who I am. The boss nods, then pushes a button on the wall that lowers all the shades so I can’t watch.

I crack my knuckles, make my way over to the closed door, and lean against the wall to wait this out.

Chapter Thirty-Eight - Molly

“Who the fuck is that guy?” Chief asks me, pointing to Lincoln.

“My boyfriend. He just wanted to see where I work.”

“Hmmm,” he says, fingering a panel on the wall. The shades begin to lower and I have a moment of panic that I’m in serious trouble. Did he see that anarchy patch on Lincoln’s jacket? Does he realize I know more about the suicide cases and I haven’t even bothered to write up a report? “Since when do you have a man?”

I grunt out disgust. “What business is that of yours?” I like how I was all paranoid about breaking the law by helping a serial killer one moment, and offended by this misogynist asshole the next. I’m flexible like that.

“No need to get lippy, sweetheart. We had an incident last night.”

I glare at him, still pissed off about his question and even more angry about his derogatory term.

“Someone tried to kill Alastair Montgomery around three AM.”

“Who?” Jesus, thank God Lincoln was with me all night. I know this one wasn’t him.

“His son.”

“Atticus? What the hell? Why?”

“Apparently Junior went into his office and shot at him.”

“Did he kill him?” I have a wave of panic.

“No, but he tried. Missed, and then security came and took him down. I’m not clear on the rest of the details. They didn’t call us, instead Montgomery checked his son into Cathedral City Asylum.”

“Why would Alastair do that?” God, just hearing that name gives me the shivers. “That’s attempted murder. Atticus needs to be formally charged and booked.”

“Apparently Junior has a history of mental illness and this is not the first time it’s happened. He’s under the treatment of a psychiatrist and he was admitted as an inpatient. Judge Livingston signed off on the order, so we’re sitting this one out. But Montgomery senior wants your pretty ass over there ASAP to talk details.”

I mull that over for a minute, ignoring the fact that he once again sexually harassed me. “Why would I need to sort out anything? If Livingston signed off, then we’re done for now. I should be working on—”

“You should be working on whatever I tell you, Masters. So get out of my office, get in your car, and don’t come back until it’s sorted. You do whatever Montgomery wants you to do.”

“Since when do I work for him? You know, I’m sick and tired of the way this department is all buddy-buddy with Blue Corp. Did it ever occur to you that something strange is going on? I mean, four suicides in less than a month and now Atticus Montgomery, who seemed perfectly lucid the last time I saw him, is locked away in an insane asylum for trying to murder his father? This just doesn’t add up. I think you have answers, and I want you to fill me in right now.”