Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1) (43 page)

So . . . fucking . . . perfect. It was killing him.

She sank her fingers into his shoulders. Their eyes locked. The look on her face pierced right through him. Her naked soul blazing out.

“I love when you’re wide open to me,” he said.

“Same here. I wanted you the second I laid eyes on you.”

“Me too,” he told her raggedly. “Like I want to breathe.”

Her slender body rode him, light and lithe. Each hot clench branded him with pleasure. Each gliding, rhythmic stroke satisfied him to the core of his being and stoked a frantic need for the next.

He clutched her, riding the rising swell of power, surging, cresting.

Crashing through them.

When he opened his eyes, it was a moment before he recognized himself.

Inside, he felt different. She did that to him somehow. The mystery was sweeter when he didn’t try to figure it out. Which was totally unlike him. But he needed what she offered. Had to have it. More, please.

He pressed his hot face to her hair, which was damp. A tang of salt overlaid the scent of honey and flowers. He breathed her in, trailing his fingertips through her hair, motionless otherwise. Could have stayed that way for hours.

But she sat up, and gazed down at him. “Noah,” she said.

He braced himself. He knew what she was going to say. Her mind was wide open to him now.

“Do you trust me?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Say what you need to say. Don’t try to trap me with words.”

“I’m coming with you tomorrow,” she said.

His whole body clenched up. Pain flared in his jaw. “We’ve been through this,” he growled. “We’ve got multiple plans in place to track Mark if he doesn’t get close enough. You don’t have to risk it.”

“But if he sees that I’m there, he’ll come for me,” she said. “He can’t help it. And you can finish this. Otherwise it’s going to drag out into a long, ugly war.”

“He wants war, he’ll get war.”

“I’m the one who doesn’t want it,” Caro said forcefully. “I want a future with you. I want my man. I want our life. That can only happen if I’m there with you tomorrow to meet Mark. You know that I’m right.”

He shook his head. His voice felt trapped, like a rock blocked his throat.

“No,” he forced out. “You can’t be there.”

She pressed her hand to his heart, as if she knew somehow exactly how to chill
his combat program. His data scroll started to slow down instantly.

“It’s not up to you anymore,” she told him. “It never really was to begin with.”

Their eyes locked, and she read his mind as effortlessly as he could read hers.

“And no, you can’t lock me up,” she said. “Mark Olund does evil shit like that, but people who love and trust and respect each other don’t. I won’t be stupid. I’m not volunteering for actual combat, believe me. But I’m taking my chances tomorrow.”

He hung onto himself until he could speak normally. “Caro, I just want to keep you safe.”

“You gave me what I need to stay safe,” she said. “It’s an incredible gift. I’ll always be grateful. Now trust me. The way I trust you.”

He closed his eyes. The combat program made his body tense, buzzing with desperate urgency. Kill plans winking and flashing, fountains of scrolling data, all tinted hot red. And her hand pressing his heart. Keeping him steady.

She was right, that her presence made their odds better. And he fucking
hated
it.

“You’ll follow orders,” he said harshly. “Do as I say. Show yourself when I say, disappear when I say. Go where I tell you. On the double.”

Her smile was radiant. “Of course.” She bent to press a soft kiss to his jaw. “Just one more thing.”

“Spare me.”

“Sleep,” she said.

That took him entirely by surprise. “What? Huh?”

“I mean real sleep,” she said. “Not that fake soldier sentinel bullshit. I’m talking real, normal, human sleep. That’s what you need.”

He was baffled. “I don’t remember how. It’s been years.”

Caro tugged the covers down from the bed, nudging him until he rolled off them. She slid between the sheets and held out her arms. “It’s easy. Come on, try it. I’ll hold you.”

He wasted no time taking her up on that offer, settling her lithe body over his non-dominant arm. She snuggled close, petting his chest hair, easing her smooth thigh over his. Felt great. But he wasn’t sleepy. Nor was he likely to be, ever.

But who gave a shit? This was right where he wanted to be. He’d fake it if it made her happy. Forever.

But eventually, he actually did synch himself to the slow, hypnotic pulse of Caro’s colors. If he focused on that, he almost succeeded in not thinking about what he was risking tomorrow.

Almost.

Chapter 32

Mark spoke into his wrist com. “How many thermals can you see?”

Static buzzed until Ty responded. “Four, inside. Three men, from the size of them. There’s a smaller one with them who could be a woman.”

Mark pondered that. The possibility that Asa Stone had actually kept to the terms of their bargain made him even more suspicious than an obvious betrayal. Stone was playing a deeper game. That fact stood out. Mark had studied the man exhaustively in the past few days.

He tracked the multiple images on the monitors that came from the vidcams of the slave soldiers, as well as the images from the brain-linked drones that the slave soldiers controlled. Brenner was on his way to verify that Caroline Bishop was physically at the meeting place. The others he had outfitted with cloaking gear and sent out into the forest to encircle the ruined, abandoned nineteenth century mansion.

Mark hated the place. It was a bizarre choice. Parts of it had collapsed and been taken over by invasive trees, or covered with a strangling ivy. Too big, too rambling. Full of potential hiding spots.

The drones were equipped with cutting edge visual tech, but watching the scenes through inferior mechanical eyes irritated the hell out of Mark. The drones and the slave soldiers could both detect heat signatures, but no one besides Mark could read and analyze an energy sig. The Eyes Guys had been anomalous, developing that unique skill amongst themselves in the Midlands hellhole. Brain training by brute necessity.

He saw no human thermals other than those Ty had already specified in the crumbling building or in the woods. Just small woodland animals. Still, he was uneasy.

Brenner careened toward the main entrance on a motorcycle. He’d been the obvious choice of canary for this coal mine. His annoying verbal glitch made him Mark’s least favorite slave soldier. Thirty million dollar investment or not, Mark was hoping Brenner would die on this mission. It would save Mark the hassle of killing him.

Brenner slowed to a stop. His vidcam image jerked and bobbed
as he dismounted, but
it soon steadied, allowing Mark to see the man who walked out the front entrance. His appearance matched the sketches and descriptions that Mark had unearthed about the mysterious Asa Stone. Mark had found no obvious explanation for Stone’s connection with Obsidian, though, and the blank spot bothered him.

Stone was subtle, arrogant, and fearless. A bad combo. He did not give a fuck how many crime bosses he inconvenienced. He appeared to have a death wish.

Today was his lucky day. He’d come to just the place to get it granted.

Stone was a big, thick-muscled brute. Buzzed-off dark hair and cold gray eyes. Mark was sure he’d never met him before, but something about his face was naggingly familiar. He would need to see Stone’s sig to pinpoint it. But he’d satisfy his curiosity soon enough.

Stone gave Brenner a once-over, dismissed him, and focused on the vidcam attached to Brenner’s coat. “Who’s this clown?” Stone said, addressing Mark directly.

“Olund wants to see the girl before he comes in himself,” Brenner said stolidly.

Again, Stone’s level gaze reminded Mark of something, or someone. The way he was so absolutely convinced that he had the upper hand.

Mark looked forward to teaching him how things really stood. Guys like that were always so surprised.

Stone jerked his chin toward the entrance. Brenner followed him into what had once been a grand entrance hall with a vaulted ceiling and tall windows, most of them broken, letting the weather in. Drifted leaves, dirt and moss were scattered across a filthy floor barely recognizable as marble. Birds swooped and fluttered in the ceiling and a snake slithered into a pile of smashed masonry. Brenner walked alongside the man down a long gallery with broken windows. Mark could hear glass crunch rhythmically beneath the two men’s boots.

“We’ll talk in the chapel,” Stone said. “It still has a roof.” He pushed open a creaking door.

Mark surveyed the room with distaste as Brenner followed Stone into the room. He hated churches. He had childhood memories of extreme unpleasantness in churches. Life on the streets, with all its squalor and danger, had been preferable to that. And then came the Midlands freak parade. He never caught a break.

Unless he carved it for himself. With a bloody knife.

Many more broken windows encircled the base of the domed roof. A bolt of bright winter sunlight poured through the remnants of a red stained glass window, spotlighting a metal cage protected by clear bulletproof panels and casting the rest of the room into ominous shadow.

The place was a shambles. Dirty, piled with rotten wood, broken furniture, upended pews and garbage. Its moldy walls were covered with scrawled graffiti, in stark contrast to the jewel-like perfection of the glass cage. Mark smiled thinly as he looked at it. So they thought they could protect her with a bulletproof box.

Stone lifted his wrist to his mouth. “Bring her out,” he said into the comm.

A door in the back of the glass box opened. A slender figure emerged. A big, helmeted man in heavy armor stood behind her, loaded down with lethal weapons.

Mark’s body tensed with raw excitement at the sight of her. She wore some black, skin-tight thing, stretched to the max over every curve and hollow of her body. Her hair hung loose, a mane of ringlets framing her face, flowing down to her ass. Her shadowy green eyes stared straight ahead. Her mouth was tight with tension.

She stood as if awaiting the firing squad.

Mark swallowed a rush of saliva. He ached to see her beautiful sig again. And then gobble it up, after he taught her what a bad girl she had been. He was so hungry.

“Why the box?” Mark waited, teeth grinding, as Brenner repeated his question.

“Just protecting my property,” Asa Stone said. “The brainwaves should work just fine right through the glass. That’s all we need her to do. Then she disappears. Happy now? She’s real and she’s here. Just like I promised.”

Rage made Mark’s combat program surge. He almost smashed the instrument panel. “I’m on my way. With my security.”

Mark waited, teeth grinding, as Brenner mechanically relayed the message.

“Two for you and two for me, as we agreed,” Stone said. “If he stays here to monitor her, you come in with one more.”

Caroline was disappearing from Mark’s field of vision as Brenner followed Stone with his eyes. “Turn so I can see the girl!” he snarled into the comm. “Don’t look away from her for one single fucking second until I’m in the room with her!”

Brenner spun obediently back to face Caroline again, and Mark feasted his eyes on her. He was burning with eagerness to see her, smell her. Touch her.

Maybe he shouldn’t have brought the safe. He had every intention of taking Caroline back for himself, but shit happened. It would be better to get the safe opened and take possession of its contents now. They could discuss who got to fuck the girl after the other issue was settled. He was a practical man, not a slave to his impulses.

Three clueless unmods and a helpless girl against himself, five slave soldiers, and a truck full of space-age killing toys that he could not wait to play with. Yeah.

Finally, this was starting to be fun.

* * *

“Hey. Spotted three surveillance drones circling up there.” It was Hannah’s voice in his earpiece. “Flying low, probably armed. Do I block the frequencies now?”

“No,” Noah said. “Let him get closer. I’ll signal when it’s time.”

Noah peered through the screen of his thermal shield helmet. He hated having to look through mechanical eyes, particularly in a combat situation, but the drones were sure to have good imaging tech, and their team had to stay hidden.

Mark’s truck sped closer. Two distinct heat signatures were visible in the cab.

“No one in the woods?” Hannah asked.

“Haven’t seen anyone yet,” Noah said. “Doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

“My brother, the optimist,” Hannah murmured.

“You’re ready to pull Caro out the second I tell you?”

Hannah made an exasperated sound. “As promised. Relax.”

Right. Sure. He watched as Mark’s truck rumbled past the marker.

“Now,” he said. “Jam all frequencies except for this one.”

“Done,” Hannah said, with satisfaction.

He recognized Mark as he got out of the truck. Tall, dirty blond hair, hawk nose, ice blue eyes. Dead heart.

Mark stood, arms folded, while some musclebound dude in a helmet and body armor hoisted a huge silver box out of the back of the vehicle. The GodsEye safe. Asa came out, as he had done before, and exchanged words Noah could not hear.

The three men went inside. Their heat signatures were soon lost to sight.

Noah risked lifting the faceplate on the shield, and peered bare-eyed at Zade and Sisko’s positions. “He’s in,” he said into the comm. “Get into position.” He scanned one last time for heat or energy sigs—

And saw a ripple of movement in the leaves. Not wind. He searched again. Close to Zade, too close.
There.
Animal?

No. The fucking tree wasn’t swaying back and forth, it was moving forward. Zade couldn’t hear it because of the protective headphones he’d wired into his helmet to block his stun and kill codes.
Shit.

“Zade! Behind you!” he shouted into the comm, as the attacker sprang.

Zade spun around and went down in a flurry of thrashing foliage.