Prototype (20 page)

“Would never dream of it.”

Noah holds out a hand for me, half his focus on Farrah. “Let’s go say our good-byes.”

T
he good-byes are exhausting. Noah knows so many people, and because he has to maintain the image that I mean nothing, it makes it hard not to question if the kiss and declaration happened. We never run into Declan because he is busy searching for me. Not a soul in the room has a clue anything is going on.

Even Lydia Farris acts as if I had not threatened her life a half hour ago. I hate being so near and having no opportunity to speak with her about her “void.” Do we dream the same thing? Does she feel the tug of an arctic abyss? Did Ruby? Do all the clones?

“Okay, I think that’s it,” Noah says with a final glance around. “They all think I’m off to fuck your brains out.”

I gulp. “Excuse me?”

He laughs and bends to speak in my ear. “Playboy—
me
—rents date—
you.
What else are they supposed to think?” His hand skims down my side and cups my butt. I squeal and jump in surprise. “There. That should seal the image.”

“Mr. Tucker, if you do not remove your hand . . . ,” I say in a warning tone, but I cannot help but laugh. I am grateful to the mask for hiding my overheated face.

He circles an arm around my waist and pulls me tight, still whispering in my com-free ear as he says, “You were perfect tonight. Thank you.”

We are so close I can feel the beat of his heart against mine. He leans back to capture my gaze. The heated swirl of amber steals my breath. The room full of moving bodies blurs at the edges of my vision, and the chatter of voices becomes a steady hum. If he does not release me soon, we will never make it to the hub tonight, and I refuse to take this further until he is one hundred percent mine.

I clear my throat. “We should go.”

James Tucker’s voice breaks up the molten tension surrounding us. “I heard you’re on your way out, son.”

Noah stiffens and turns to face his father. “I am.”

James glances between his wife and son, then says, “A private word first.” He lifts a hand toward me and guides MyAnna to my side. To me, he says, “I trust you won’t mind if I steal him for a moment, Constance?”

I look to Noah for some kind of signal. If he would prefer not to go, I will happily refuse James. Of course, James could just as easily tell me my opinion does not really matter anyway. It is frustrating to be this powerless. But Noah takes his father by the elbow and leads him out of earshot. Once they stop, Noah surreptitiously removes his com so no one can hear their private conversation.

“What are they talking about?” I ask.

MyAnna faces me and smiles. “Why don’t you just stand there and look pretty. That’s what you were paid to do, isn’t it? Leave the
family
matters to the
family.
”

Through my com I hear Leigh say,
“Oh hell. A pod-wife.”

It takes everything I have not to claim my actual right to ask and receive an answer. Not only that, but I am a complete stranger to her. Is this how she treats all women she meets? For her sake, I hope not. She is in the same precarious boat we are all in.

“Wife number five?” I say. “What is the shelf life for a James Tucker wife, anyway?”

Her mouth opens on a silent gasp. In my com, Miles snorts on a laugh and Farrah threatens his life if he breaks their cover.

I turn and step away from MyAnna. What I said was underhanded and cruel, but I have a feeling there is a long line of women who would tell me she deserved it.

Near the corner of the dance floor, I stop and take calming breaths. I have removed myself from the area where the Tuckers speak privately, but I am easily in Noah’s eye line. I catch his gaze to be sure, and he nods once to let me know I am okay here.

But maybe not. Declan walks through the room as if on a mission. Straight for me. Or so I believe until he stops five steps away to speak with Daxton Thomas. I palm the soft folds of my dress with clammy hands and take a deep breath.

Remain calm. Look natural.

My heart slows as whatever Declan and Daxton talk about turns heated. Declan’s hands fist, and Daxton jabs a finger in his chest. Heads swivel toward them and conversations stop.

“What’s going on?”
Miles asks.

“I cannot hear. The music is too loud.” Can I get any closer without raising attention?

One quick sweep of the area reveals Charissa Thomas watching from the edge of the dance floor. She leans precariously and swallows half a glass of champagne. She exchanges her empty glass for a full one that passes a moment later.

She is my way in. I head over and touch her arm. “Monica, is that you?” I say in a pitched, cheery tone.

Charissa leans back and turns as if on a tilt-a-wheel to face me. She is mask-free now, and her dark hair is starting to come loose around her face. Her hazel eyes lean toward a lovely shade of green, a perfect match to Adrienne’s. “No, dear, not Monica.” She smiles and extends a hand. “Charissa Thomas.”

I giggle and accept her handshake. “How embarrassing. You look the spitting image of a good friend.”

“You’re Noah Tucker’s date.”

“Yes. Constance Wiseman.”

She raises her champagne to her lips, showcasing the branded luckenbooth on her left hand. She tilts too far back to take a drink and I reach a hand behind her just in case.

“Is everything all right?” I ask.

She laughs, her apple cheeks turning a brighter shade of red. Her eyes glisten. “No.”

She angles her glass at her son and my ex. I still cannot hear them because, while heated, their discussion is very low. Declan leans very close to Daxton now and jabs a rigid finger at the ground. Daxton in no way stands down.

“See that?” she says.

The entire room sees them. “Oh, I had not noticed them before. Are they fighting?”

She does not seem to notice my inquiry as anything other than genuine curiosity. “Breaks his promises, that one.”

“Which one?”

“Declan
Burke.
” She sways and I take her elbow. She wraps an arm behind my back and brings us together. Most of her weight is on me and I fear I will go down with her if I am not careful. “Broke his promise to take care of her.”

“Take care of who?”

She turns her head and rests her lips against my ear, but she does not whisper. The sharp pitch makes my eardrum ring. “Olivia. My baby girl.” She pulls back with raised brows and nods as if she has enlightened me about something tremendous. “Andrew Burke promised. Declan Burke promised. They all promised.” She lists again, then links our arms so she can hold my hand. “He’ll get her killed.”

Daxton’s raised voice draws my attention back. He throws his arms up and yells, “Why wait? Maybe I’ll just tell them all right now.” He sweeps an arm to encompass the room. “I’m sure they’d all love to know about what’s
really
going on with that wife of—”

“Daxton!” Charissa rushes forward, forgetting to release me. Her hand crushes mine. “You can’t.”

Evan arrives in an almost too calm manner on the other side of Charissa and glares between Declan and Daxton. “What’s going on?”

Declan points at Evan. “Did you know?”

Evan squares his shoulders and loosens the hold he has on his wife, his gaze skipping to Daxton. “Know what?”

“My wife was here,” Declan says. “She asked your son if he was plotting against her.
Against me.
Come to find out, he’s the one who’s been leaking everything to the press.”

Charissa squeezes my hand so hard my knuckles rub together, making me wince. “She is here?”

“
Was,
Mother. She
was
here.” Then to me, Daxton says, “You know, this is a private—”

“Oh, don’t you dare,” Charissa says, clinging to my hand. While she had scarcely been able to stand on her own before, righteous anger now gives her a steel spine. “You plan to make everything public anyway. And you don’t care who gets hurt in the process, do you?”

Daxton stares in stunned silence at his mother.

I try removing my hand from her grip. While I had wanted to be near enough to hear before, this is far too close for comfort. “Mrs. Thomas, my hand . . .”

Declan watches me struggle, but his eyes are distant. Finally, he looks at Daxton. “What else have you been planning? And don’t try denying it, because your mother speaks as if you aren’t done.”

“You deserve what’s coming to you,” Charissa snaps at Declan. Spittle flies from her lips. To Daxton, she says, “But not at her expense.”

Evan grabs her arm, taking her attention. “Darling, you’re drunk.” Banked rage rims his eyes, but he stands steady and prepared to lob whatever balls come.

She glares at her husband. “He won’t stop until he knows the truth.”

“
Ah,
” I whimper as she rubs my knuckles together once again. I cannot free my hand. Not without drawing too much attention, at least. She is much stronger than she looks. “Mrs. Thomas, please . . .”

Noah’s voice fills my com.
“I’m coming. Hold on.”

Charissa goes on with a single-minded focus. “They’re both putting her in too much danger. We have to stop this, Evan. We’re the only ones who can protect her now.”

Cold trepidation weighs in my stomach. Pieces of our earlier conversation start to slide into place alongside the current topic. But I refuse to believe it. I am missing something else, or looking too hard at the information provided.

Daxton shifts the weight on his heels and narrows his eyes. “Protect who? Emma Burke? Why would you want to do that?”

Declan glances between the three of them. “I think I’d like to know the answer to that, too.”

Charissa finally lets me go so she can approach Declan. I stumble back but am caught around the waist by Noah. He asks if I am okay, but I ignore him, torn between running and staying to hear where this leads. Except I fear where this leads. I do not want to know this truth.

Mrs. Thomas shoves Declan in the chest. “You were supposed to protect her. That was the deal.”

“What deal?” Declan looks behind her to Evan. “What deal?”

Noah walks us back several paces, but nowhere near out of range. I cannot take my eyes off the scene.

“In exchange for our cooperation,” Evan starts slowly, “your father promised our daughter would be safe. We changed Olivia’s name to protect her from the resistance. They’d find her and use her against us, otherwise.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Declan asks.

“Oh God,” I whisper. I already know. My worst nightmare unfolds before me.

“Part of keeping Olivia safe was to place her into a good marriage. With you.”

Charissa shoves Declan again and begins sobbing. “And you killed her. Turned her into one of those . . . those . . .
things.
”

Evan takes his wife around the middle and drags her back, but his eyes remain glued on Declan. “Emma is our daughter, you son of a bitch. And with my dying breath, I promise you’ll pay for what you’ve done to her.”

I
cannot breathe. These people—
these traitors
—cannot be my parents. But they are. I know because I look like my mother. I see it in the color of her eyes. The rounded tip of her nose. Her bone structure. We are the same height and have the same slim build.

She gave me away.

A sob thickens in my throat. Tension builds behind my eyes and throbs in my temples. But I cannot cry. Not here. Not yet.

“Holy fucking shit,”
Miles says.

“Keep it together, 2,”
Leigh says, but it is too late. Tears already break the surface and slide under my mask.

I cannot hear anything anyone says, though the floodgates are open. Questions and accusations are being flung like plasma fire between Daxton—
my brother
—and Evan—
my father.
Declan stands looking as numb as I feel. Charissa sobs into her hands, a heavy weight in Evan’s arms.

“Noah,” I whisper, though I barely hear the word myself.

His arms tighten around my waist and I realize my knees have given out. “Hold on,” he says. “We’re leaving.”

But going where? There is no distance too great from this.

He weaves us through the crowd, down the stairs, and into the teleporter bay. “Give me your com,” he tells me, his expression calm. I wish his tranquility would leak into me, because I am a gale-force storm about to strike land.

I remove it with shaking fingers, staring into his eyes. Needing them to hold me together. “Did you hear that?” I ask, but it is a ridiculous question, because of course he did. What I really want to ask is if what I heard was real. It does not feel real.

“Get inside,” he whispers, and helps me into the teleporter. “Base camp, we’re going radio silent.”

He pockets our coms and types an untraceable code on the illuminated keyboard, then a port number. We appear in the park he took me to on my first night, and it is just as empty now as it was then.

I strip off the mask and savor the warm night air on my wet face. The breeze is a tangible thing I can ground myself to. So is the tickle of grass against my exposed toes. And Noah’s scent.

A sob shakes loose in my chest. “It is not real. What they said. It cannot be real.”

Noah takes the mask from my fingers and hurls it into a copse of trees. “Come here,” he says, and his arms surround me as I fall into them.

I stain his shirt with tears, clinging to the fabric, holding on to what is tangible. Trying to focus on what I
know.
I know I have Noah and Adrienne, and that I have finally found my home, though it is not where I expected it would be.

If I’d been asked just over a month ago, home was with my parents, Stephen and Lily. Until now, they were faceless names typed in a WTC record. The family I have been desperate to reunite with. But they do not exist. That is why I have been unable to find them. I lost so much time on this. Too much time. Wasted time. I am
always
wasting time.

Heat ignites and soars through my bloodstream. I push away from Noah and scream behind clenched teeth. I rip the wig from my head and throw it. Turn my back on Noah and clutch the hair at my temples.

Hands wrap over my shoulders. “Say something, Emma. Talk to me.”

I laugh hard from deep in my chest.
What a joke.
“Emma. Emma?” I spin around. “That isn’t even my
name.
”

Noah stands coolly in front of me, supporting me with only a look. Ready for the barrage of anger he must guess is coming. But I am unsure if he can withstand it.

“I risked everything,” I say. “I walked away from you and Adrienne and stayed away all those months because I was scared to return. Scared you would reject me. So I focused on finding them, because they would never reject their own daughter, right? Why would they? I gave you up for them.” A barely restrained sob restricts my throat. My temples throb. “I lost you for them. And they did not even want me. They never did.”

He takes me by the upper arms. “You can’t believe that.”

“Everyone wants to design my future for me. From the very beginning. My parents changed my name and sold me into marriage. Declan wants me to be his obedient wife and give him an heir to his madness. Doctors—even yours—want me to be a good test subject. You want me to be that girl you fell in love with who would collapse entire nations if it meant saving just one woman from slavery.”

Noah flinches and drops his hands. I have hurt him but cannot stop the flow of emotion ravaging the air in the form of words containing only a fraction of the venom absorbing my heart.

“What about what I want?” My voice carries on the warm breeze, and luckily, we are very much alone. “I do not want to be Olivia Thomas, and I do not want to be Emma Burke, and I do not want to be calm and willing for the doctors, and I do not want to be Emma Wade, destroyer of evil men.”

He takes my arms again so fast and so hard, I am jolted back into reality. Amber burns in his eyes. “You are none of those things.”

“You are more right about that than you realize. If you are expecting me to be anything like the woman you married—”

“I knew who you were the moment we talked in the gallery last year. No matter how hard I tried denying it, no matter how hard I forced old images on you, you radiated with a strength I didn’t recognize, and that scared the hell out of me.”

“No. That is not true. You said I reminded you of Her.”

“You want to know who I saw when I looked at you? The woman I knew She could be, but Her past wouldn’t allow it. That’s why I’ve been looking for you from the moment you walked away. You, Emma. I love
you.
Not Her. I love you because you are none of those things you think I want, and more.”

He cups my face and presses his forehead against mine. “God . . .
Emma.
Be whoever you want, and believe me, I will love you anyway.”

Tears stream at a steady pace over my cheeks. He knows exactly what I need to hear, but . . . “What if I do not know who I want to be?”

He pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. “But you do know.”

“Not anymore.”

He tucks my hair behind my ears. “You told me in San Francisco, remember? You want to be a mother to Adrienne. So even if everything else is up in the air, at least you know you want that.”

Adrienne. Of course. With everything twisted around my mind, I had forgotten the one positive thing that has driven my decisions these past weeks. My daughter. Noah is right. I do know who I am.

Adrienne’s mother.

I nod because I do not trust my voice to work. Neither of us speaks again after that. I already feel better having vented my frustration, and what has not healed is supported by his arms around me. By the time we prepare to return to the hub, I know one other undeniable thing about myself: I am the woman Noah loves.

 • • • 

Noah ports us into his office. I am grateful for the privacy of our arrival because my face feels hot and swollen from crying. That and I am not ready to face those who witnessed our indiscretion at the ball. All I want is to splash cold water on my face and curl up in bed. Not to sleep, necessarily, but to be alone with my thoughts.

We cross his dark office in silence, the room lit only by the glow of his computer’s screen saver—a mosaic of pictures of Adrienne. Noah pauses with a hand over the door’s activation switch, then lets out a long breath. His next intake halts as if he wants to say something, but he does not.

“What?” I press.

“I have to go see Sonya. Now. It shouldn’t wait.” He says this softly, as if he can lessen the impact.

I had already assumed this and thought I was prepared, but I am nervous for him. I am also worried she will make things too hard. Can she talk him into staying with her somehow? Turn him against me by reminding him of how I deserted my family? Play on his guilt? Guilt is funny like that sometimes. It can make us do things we do not want to do.

Noah faces me and gives me a lingering, soft kiss. When he comes away, his nose circles mine. “Should I come by after?”

The idea both thrills and terrifies me. “I would not turn you away.”

He smiles. “Good to know.” He stands back with a heavy sigh. “Time to face the music.”

We are not two steps outside his office before confronting what we dreaded most. Sonya. She lays a stinging slap across my face, then his. Her bloodshot eyes are wide with fury, her hair a mess. She still wears her day clothes despite the late hour, and they are untucked and rumpled.

Sonya raises her hand to slap me again, but this time Noah snatches her by the wrist and twists her arm away. “That’s enough.” His tone holds no room for argument. “If you need to blame someone, blame me.”

But she ignores him. It is as if she and I are the only two who exist. “I
asked
you for the truth,” she says.

“I never lied to you.”

She laughs with no humor. “No. You just skirted around the question. You’re good at that.” She yanks her hand free of Noah’s hold and glares at him. “You should have ended this weeks ago. Saved me the humiliation. I’ve been walking around with people looking sorry for me. The poor idiot who can’t hold on to the man she loves.”

Noah glances furtively at me. “Let’s not do this here.”

She throws her arms up to encompass the dimly lit and empty hallway. “Why not? We’re alone, which is a step up from how the two of you have been carrying on.” Angry tears roll down her cheeks and she swipes them away. “You couldn’t even have the decency to let me go before you started screwing on camera.”

I gape at her. “We are not sleeping together.”

“Who told you that?” Noah asks, hands hooked to his hips.

She wipes at her nose with the back of her hand, then sniffs. “It doesn’t matter. I know it’s true.”

Noah throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Whatever. Where’s Adrienne?”

“With the only person in this godforsaken place who saw fit to look out for me.”

His eyebrows shoot upward, waiting for a better answer. I would like to know who has my daughter as well.

“Farrah,” she says, and folds her arms, almost daring him to do something about it.

Pieces click together. I thought maybe Sonya saw everything for herself, but she would never leave Adrienne alone in her room just to go watch a mission unfold. That leaves one other option: Farrah told Sonya. She did it to hurt either Noah, whom I firmly believe she has feelings for, or me, the woman she cannot stand.

“You left my daughter with
Farrah
?” Noah says in disbelief, then heads off in the direction of the living quarters, leaving me alone with Sonya.

“For what it is worth,” I start, gaze cast down the hall after him, “this is not how I wanted things to turn out. It was never my intention to—”

“Don’t you dare. If you didn’t intend for this to happen, you should have
left.
You told me you were leaving, so why the hell didn’t you?”

“I could not leave my daughter again.”

She throws her hands up over her ears and pinches her eyes shut. A low, gravelly moan sounds through her clenched teeth. Then she tosses her arms out to her sides. “You’re so selfish, Emma. Everything is about you. The second you came back you made sure everyone saw how fragile you are, how needy. All anyone wants to do is shelter you from the things
you
perceive as danger. You wreck everything you touch. You left him a ruined man last year, and you’ll do it again. You’ll leave because that’s what you do. Only this time Adrienne will be hurt too.”

“No.” I can scarcely get this one word through the tightness in my throat.

“Yes. I’m right, and I’ll be here to pick up after you again. And again.”

Does she have so little self-respect? Even if she were right, why would she do that to herself? But it does not matter. There will be no pieces to pick up, because I am not going anywhere.

I open my mouth to respond when my vision goes completely black. Frigid air winds around me and tugs downward. I tunnel into the nothing of my abyss as easily as I would slip into a tub full of ice-cold water. But this is not happening. I am awake.

Right?

In the span of an eyeblink, I find myself back in the corridor, shivering, knees weakened to the point that I am beginning to collapse. Shooting a hand out to the wall, I steady myself and draw in a deep breath.

“A fainting spell? Really, Emma? That’s the response you want to go with?” Sonya shakes her head and starts to leave, then thinks better of it. She puts a finger in my face. “This isn’t over.”

I watch her follow after Noah, my heart pounding in my ears. A fainting spell? No. That was my nightmare seeping into my waking hours. That was my abyss showing signs of impatience. Something hungry and dark comes for me and shows no sign of stopping until it has me.