Overload Flux (15 page)

For once, she wasn’t wearing her wrist knives. He flattened both his hands on the counter to keep them still, grateful for the distraction of the residual pain. He’d been alone with her often in the past ten days, so he didn’t know why being in her apartment now felt intimate and charged. He wanted physical contact with her—a need that left him almost breathless.

“Luka, I owe you an apology.” She stood next to him at the counter. He hadn’t felt her approach, and her voice was quiet.

“What for?” How was it she took him by surprise so often?

“I should have anticipated they’d exploit your routine.” There was vulnerability on her face that he’d never seen before, and she wasn’t skittering away from him like she usually did. His intuition started to stir, and he let his talent guide his question.

“How did you really find me so fast?”

She looked at him consideringly, then seemed to come to a decision.

“I followed your scent. It carried in the fog all along the route they took you. I was afraid they’d kill you if I breached the door, so I had to lure them out.” She gently covered his recently healed left hand with hers and lightly caressed his still swollen and bruised fingers with her thumb. “It gave them time to hurt you.”

His intuition flared arc-white as he made the connections. Her extraordinary hearing and reflexes, her familiarity with death, hidden depths, legends and memes, improbable truths... “If hybrid planets can be real, then so can you. Are you a death tracker?”

* * * * *

He really was amazingly brilliant, Mairwen thought. The dawning wonder in his expression made her cautious brain scream at her to get away, but the rest of her wanted to get closer. She kept her hand on his.

“Yes.”

“Invisible, unstoppable military assassins with amazing supernatural powers, the force of stellar energy at their fingertips?” His gentle teasing eased some of the tension in her. “So mysterious that even the military’s covert ops division knows nothing about them?”

“The Citizen Protection Service knows everything about us,” she said with a touch of acid. “They created us.”

“Created? Like cyberneuro implants, skulljacks, enhancement drugs?” He named the commonly known modifications the CPS gave its Jumpers and minders.

“No.” She wondered what to tell him so he’d understand.

“The CPS discovered a treatment and procedure that only works on a very few people. They can’t tell in advance who it will or won’t work on, so they secretly test as many people as they can get away with. Nothing happens if you fail, but if you’re the one in a billion that passes, you become CPS property. They tell your family and friends you died, they mask your DNA, and a CPS telepath cleans you of as many of your childhood memories as they can and still leave you functional.”

She touched her fingertips to his mistreated knuckles. “We’re hunters, but we don’t always kill.” She gave him a brief, wry smile. “Sometimes we leave the killing to others.”

He topped her hand with his right one, his fingertips cool on the back of her hand. “Are you an uncatalogued minder?” Like he probably was. Unfortunately, she was nothing so normal or benign.

“I’m an alter.”

The shock on his face didn’t surprise her. Ever since the discovery of the grisly horrors that resulted from the secret experiments during the First Wave era, altering humans was considered appallingly immoral and illegal. He deserved to know the whole truth. “The procedure, if you live through it, transforms subtrans-DNA to expand all the senses, inputs, nerves, synapses, to a lot higher than normal humans. The alteration changed my body chemistry and my brain.”

Instead of pulling back from her as if she were contagious, as she’d feared, he pulled her to face him, close enough to feel the heat of his body.

“No wonder you’re so amazing,” he said with such a sweet smile that her heart stuttered. The smile faded. “The CPS wouldn’t have willingly let you go.”

“No. None of us makes it out of the program alive.”

His face showed he recognized the implications of that. She liked that she didn’t have to connect the dots for him.

He turned her hand over, palm up, and stroked her thumb with his. “What’s it like? The expanded senses part, not the being dead part.”

She’d never tried to describe it before, never imagined wanting to. “Sort of like… turning up the volume on a music player so you can hear every note of every instrument all at once, except that it’s everything. Smells, sounds, colors, images, tastes, touch.”

“Did your extraordinary control come with the alteration, too?” His buttery scent curled up into her nose. The power of his regard when focused on her was dangerously, deliciously potent.

“No,” she said. “Nineteen years of CPS training.”

She tried to read his expression, to see how he was taking it, but all she could think about was the empty, icy feeling in her chest that was spreading to her barely healed shoulder and making it ache, too. The only heat in her came from where his hands held hers. Everything warm had been viciously beaten out of her long ago. “It’s a dangerous process and a brutal program. Only a few of us survive it.”

She fought to keep even uglier memories moldering in their graves where they belonged.

Before she knew what was happening, he was standing with his arms around her, and she felt the warmth of his shoulder against her face, with only his thin knit shirt between them.

“
Fyrirgefðu.
I’m sorry,” he said softly. His voice rumbling through his chest and his warm breath’s moisture against her skin sent a tremor through her.

She realized her eyes were filled with unshed tears, a peculiar sensation. It was easy to ignore because he felt so very good against her. She slid her arms up his well-muscled back. She drew in the scent of him and listened to the rhythm of his heart. The ice in her chest was melting in the flood caused by his heat.

He stroked her back gently. “How long has it been since you, uh, left school?” The timbre of his voice resonated deep.

“Four years.”

Another tremor ran through her.

“Are you cold?” he asked, and slid a hand up to the nape of her neck. His thumb gently caressed her hairline, and sent tingles through her.

“I’m fine.” She was almost intoxicated by the feel of him, and her breath was ragged as she struggled to clamp down tight controls on her body’s feedback to keep the tremors at bay.

“I think you should look up the meaning of the word ‘fine’ sometime.”

A laugh escaped her, and he tightened his hold on her. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh.”

“I don’t, usually. You’re a bad influence.”

He laughed, and it rippled through his body and into hers. She pulled back so she could see his smile. His amusement changed to a look of intent, and he kissed her. It was warm and cool and wonderful all at once.

She opened her mouth to his, inviting him to deepen the kiss, and an electric shock of pleasure coursed through her at the complex taste of him when their tongues touched. He pulled her in tight against him, and she felt like she was being imprinted by their heat signature. Nothing of what she’d read or seen matched the reality of this moment.

From deep within her arose a trembling that threatened to shake her apart, and she had to break off the kiss and bury her face against his collarbone to get control of it.

His breath was as shallow as hers. “What is it?”

“I didn’t think I was capable of feeling this much for anyone,” she said, then regretted revealing her impairment. The strength of her feelings terrified her. “I’ll be–”

“You’re not going to say ‘fine,’ are you?” He stroked her hair with gentle fingers, and his unhurt hand caressed the small of her back.

She sighed and tried to release her tension. “Sensory overload can cause... problems.” She didn’t want to think about them now. “I’m more susceptible when I’m tired.”

She’d used a lot of energy in tracker mode earlier, but she suspected the strength of the tremors had more to do with the depth of her response to him. The CPS issued dire warnings on the life-threatening dangers of strong emotions, and tried to eradicate them permanently out of all trackers to improve obedience and efficiency. They’d evidently failed with her.

She reluctantly stepped back, and he let her go slowly. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his eyes dark with intensity.

She knew she wasn’t, but it pleased her that he thought so.

“So are you,” she said softly. “You need rest. Time to heal.”

“You do, too.” His tone was light, but his expression was an odd mix of concern and invitation.

She shook her head. “I’m on duty. Use the bed.”

She wanted more than anything to curl up next to him, preferably entwined with him for comfort, but it would inevitably lead to other, more interesting activities that she had little experience with and wasn’t sure she could handle. She’d barely handled one potent kiss from him. More important, right now he needed a guard more than he needed a bed companion.

He gave her a long look and started to say something, but hesitated because of whatever he read in her expression. “All right.”

He turned and stepped toward the bedroom. When he turned back, his expression was dark, intense. “Just so we’re clear. I want you, Mairwen.”

She forced her arms to stay at her sides instead of reaching for him. She met his gaze. “Yes,” she said, both acknowledging his desire and expressing her own.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he said, and went into her bedroom.

Tomorrow, she promised herself, as she ate a high-calorie protein bar that could have tasted like ash or ambrosia for all she noticed. Tomorrow, when she would spend as much time as possible with Luka Foxe and memorize every scent, every sound of him, right up until they terminated her for assaulting Malamig.

CHAPTER 11

* Planet: Rekoria * GDAT 3237.037*

E
arly in the afternoon, Luka and Seshulla Zheer sat in her office at the priceless antique she called a worktable, waiting for the expensive realtime intergalactic trid connection to be made with an equally expensive finder on New Ares named Elellor Jalinok, whom La Plata had hired to research the possibility of a hybrid planet. The man had an excellent reputation for uncovering the unusual. If the idea hadn’t panned out, he’d have just sent a report, so there must be something to it.

Zheer was sipping after-lunch coffee from a delicate porcelain cup that was almost translucent and reading the news in Mandarin as they waited. Luka cupped his hands around his larger coffee mug for warmth. Zheer kept her office chillier than he liked. For once, Luka felt no need to pace. As interesting as the case was, as much as he wanted justice for his friends, he was far more intrigued and unsettled by the last twenty-four hours with Mairwen.

That he’d slept at all last night while knowing she was awake in the next room was a miracle. He felt a growing emotional connection with her that fueled his desire. He’d had to consciously keep himself away from her since she’d reported for duty at noon, especially when they were alone in his office. She’d retreated to the passivity of a dispassionate security guard, but he saw the subtle signs that she was aware of him in the same way.

There was also sadness in her at odd moments, and he was afraid she was regretting admitting she had feelings for him. Whether she would—or could—ever let herself care for him was another matter. She had formidable self-discipline and a lot of secrets, but more than that, because of what had been done to her to transform her into a death tracker, he was sure she had no experience trusting anyone.

He distracted himself by rolling his shoulders and dropping his head to stretch his neck. The too-loose collar of his new off-the-rack shirt chafed. He splayed and cautiously tensed the fingers of his still slightly bruised and puffy left hand, welcoming the twinges of soreness because they could have been infinitely worse.

He caught Seshulla giving him speculative looks, but he didn’t care. There was no way she could guess that the kidnapping and assault had affected him far less than kissing the woman who had rescued him.

A pleasant chime interrupted his contemplation, which he’d decided was a better word for what he’d been doing than “brooding.” The trid blinked to life with the holographic image of an older, almost grandfatherly man seated behind a desk. After polite greetings were exchanged, the man pivoted straight to the point.

“There is an eighty-six percent chance that at least one living hybrid planet exists, and an almost sixty-percent chance it is being exploited by a pharma company.”

Luka expected the news, but the high percentages surprised him.

“Interesting,” said Zheer, “but you could have just pinged us with that data.”

“Yes, but I need input from you to narrow down the best probable locations for it.” He laced his fingers on the desk and looked straight at them. “Hybrid planets are a danger to us all. I want to make sure that when it is found, it will be dealt with properly.”

In other words, if La Plata hoped to use his information to exploit the planet for themselves instead of reporting it to Concordance Command, Jalinok would report it for them, regardless of the non-disclosure clause in their contract.

Zheer nodded. “We’re in complete agreement.”

By the end of the conversation, Luka believed La Plata had gotten its money’s worth from Jalinok. He’d identified six planets and assigned probabilities to each of them. They would all be detailed in his report, but two of them looked promising. Insche 255C was the best bet, with Noongar 18E a close second. Both were listed in Concordance’s exploration records as failed terraforms from the First Wave, so physical information about both should be available in exploration archives. After answering a few final questions, Jalinok signed off.

Zheer leaned back in her chair and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

“We’re headed for interesting times. We might have enough to keep Juno Vizla from having to pay Centaurus Transport’s shipping losses, but not enough to keep them out of court, which is why they hired us. If Loyduk Pharma
is
hiding a hybrid planet, a few additional discreet murders are the least of their worries.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe we’re discussing a secret, viable hybrid planet as if it’s real.” She sighed again and looked at her cup. “I need more coffee. You?”