Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)

by Shannon McKenna

  “Right up the street,” she told him. “Park anywhere.”

  He pulled over. “I may never see my car again.”

  “Let me off at the curb,” she urged. “Believe me, I understand.”

  “No. It’s insured.” He got out, and came around to open her door, but she was already out. Noah slung her duffel over his shoulder. “Now where?”

  “Long goodbyes are harder. It’s a hike. Sixth floor. Spare yourself.”

  He ignored the advice. “Lead the way.”

  Noah pushed the battered entrance door of an old tenement building. It opened with no resistance. “Front lock’s broken,” he commented, expressionless.

  “The landlord’s been informed,” she said. “He says it’s unfixable.”

  He kicked aside some loose tiles from the black and white mosaic pattern that covered the floor. So many were gone, the effect was like missing teeth.

  He followed her up on up. The sixth floor had a frayed runner of carpeting, scattered with garbage. A cockroach scuttled beneath a door and disappeared. A sleeping man in a shabby winter coat and knit cap lay slumped against a door.

  He opened a reddened eye as they approached.

  “Hey, Freddie, what’s up?” Caro asked. “Lose your keys?”

  “Bitch locked me out,” Freddy rasped, and coughed violently.

  “That blows,” Caro stepped over the man’s legs. “Take it easy, Freddie.”

  Freddie’s dull gaze flicked up to Noah and then looked back at Caro beseechingly. “Can I crash with you, beautiful?”

  “In your dreams,” Caro said lightly.

  Freddy took a longer look at Noah. “Ain’t he something. Moving up in the world, are we? Nice shoes, buddy.”

  Noah quelled him with a glance. Freddie seemed cowed. “You never brought home no boyfriend before,” he said warily. “What’s up with that?”

  “He’s just walking me to my door,” Caro said.

  “Uh-huh.” He got up awkwardly and stumbled down the hallway, managing the stairs somehow.

  Caro stopped in front of a door in which all three of the brass numbers had fallen off, leaving the ghosts of six-zero-eight on it. She put a key in a knob lock.

  “Are you kidding me? A fucking knob lock.” His low voice was flat. “With neighbors like that.”

  “I’m not worried about the locks,” she said. “Or Freddie. He’s harmless. Thanks for accompanying me, Noah. You’ve been very gallant.”

  Noah’s eyes narrowed. “You only let me see this place because you’re leaving.”

  Something must have flashed over her face, and of course, he caught it. The way he caught absolutely fucking everything.

  “Son of a bitch,” he murmured. “I nailed it. You’d never let me see this dump if you were staying. But what the hell. It doesn’t matter anymore, right?”

  “Stop,” she said wearily. “It’s hard enough for me as it is.”

  “So make it easier,” he urged. “Come home with me. I’ll make you a breakfast, and sit you down with a fresh cup of coffee. You can tell me everything. Please, Caro.”

  “No.” Her voice was gaining strength.

  “Then give me a few more minutes in your apartment. Just that. And I swear, I’ll go.”

  “You said that before. You’re lying. You’ll just keep pushing.”

  “Please, Caro,” he pleaded. “Please.”

  She let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. He was just prolonging the pain. And this was so painful.

  Fuck it. He could come in if he was so desperate.

  She pushed open the door.

  Chapter 15

  Noah stepped in, and stopped on the threshold.

  Caro murmured behind him for him to get out of her way. Finally, she shoved him forward, came in behind him and shut the door.

  The place was a startling contrast to the squalor outside the door. The floor had been covered with roll-out straw floor mats. One wall was painted a sunny pale yellow, one a robin’s egg blue, one pink, one a spring green. Damaged plaster on two walls was decorated with leaves and branches folded from green and brown paper.

  Two narrow windows were draped with cloth. The light shone through it on an array of crystal perfume bottles, pink-tinted prisms from a broken chandelier and colored glass wrapped in fine copper wire. What morning light there was refracted through all the glass and crystals, filling the room with shifting colors.

  He saw a futon mat on the floor, a folded silver comforter and a pillow on it. A shelf held a hot plate and an electric teakettle, a plate, bowl, glass and cup. One fork, spoon and knife stuck out of a repurposed jar. There was a small sink with a sponge and bottle of dish soap. A shelf with a limited array of food on it. A hanging basket with a few pieces of fruit and a red sweet pepper.

  The duffel thudded from his hand onto the floor. “Nice,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She slipped off her shoes, set them by the door. “I fixed it up a little. Good for morale.”

  “Looks great. Is this a no-shoes type of place?”

  She gave him a stern look. “You won’t be here that long.”

  Noah stepped out of his shoes and hung his jacket on a hook by the door.

  “Make yourself at home.” Caro’s voice sounded weary.

  “You know something?” He looked around again. “When I came up the stairs, and saw that corridor, I felt sorry for you. I was expecting to feel sorrier when I got inside. I figured it would be a dingy hole.”

  She waited, arms folded. “I see. And?”

  “I don’t feel sorry for you anymore,” he said simply. “This place says it all.”

  Her eyebrow tilted. “Ah . . . OK. Is that a compliment?”

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded in acknowledgement. So she didn’t like praise, or even being noticed. “It’s pretty,” he said. “All you. But I hate that goddamn cheap lock. Your neighbors don’t thrill me, either.”

  “Freddy’s not my problem,” she said.

  The edge in her voice clued him in, and he looked at her face more carefully. “Meaning that somebody else is?”

  She looked hunted. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But I still heard it,” he said. “Who’s your problem, Caro?”

  She waited a long time to answer. “Just a guy,” she said. “Following me. Can’t tell you any more than that. It’s happened twice. I don’t know who he is.”

  “What did he look like?” Noah demanded.

  A troubled look came into her eyes. “You might be about to find out, since you insisted on coming here with me. Check your rearview mirror when you leave. And be careful. Please.”

  “If I still have a car.” He regretted the words the second he said them.

  “I wish I had your problems,” she muttered.

  “At least let me help you with this one thing. Tell me what he looks like.”

  “Big,” she said. “Long dark hair. Ponytail. Hawk nose. Tattoo on his neck.”

  He relaxed. Just Zade, being careless. “Could be a coincidence.”

  She looked puzzled. “I doubt it.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes open,” he said, trying to calm her. “You’re sure you’ll be OK?”

  “Just shut up, Noah. And go.”

  “Am I being kicked out?”

  “You could leave on your own. That would be easier for me.”

  He moved toward the door. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”

  “For the last time.”

  “Doesn’t have to be the last time, Caro.”

  He knew that it was pointless, but he said it anyway. It had to be said. This was his cue to walk out the door like he’d promised. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t stop looking at her, standing there with tears of fury glittering in her eyes.

  And something else as well. Her sexual awareness of him. He was so attuned to it now. After one night he knew her well. He loved it when her furious gaze ran hungrily over his body, lingering at the bulge at his crotch.


  “Oh, please.” Her voice was hard. “Really, Noah?”

  He shrugged, unembarrassed, and just waited. Her sig painted the room, but he’d almost stopped noticing it by now. He’d internalized it.

  Right now, he was more interested in the sexual hunger pulsing out of her. And the regal angle of her chin. He loved that. So strong and proud and fucking hot.

  “You son of a bitch,” she said. “Jerking me around.”

  “No. I’m not,” he said. “I meant what I said.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Fuck,” she muttered to herself. “You are making this so difficult.”

  He took a slow step closer to her. “I’m not the one who’s doing that,” he said. “Tell me what’s wrong, Caro.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk.”

  “There’s a lot we can do without talking.”

  He had her with that. Once again, she was turned on and pissed off in equal measure.

  “Fine,” she hissed. “If you’re offering.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  She kicked off her sneakers, stepped out of the jeans with sharp, angry gestures. She stumbled, almost falling, as she stripped off her socks, cursing under her breath. The coat fell, the shirts, all pulled off in a tangled wad, plus the bra.

  She stood before him naked, cheeks red. Mad as hell. Hot as hell. He could hardly breathe, he was so turned on. So afraid of screwing this up. Sex on a cliff’s edge.

  She turned to unfold the comforter on the floor. The sight of her naked body bending over like that jacked him up to maximum lust levels.

  He drew back just long enough to rip off his own clothes, vibrating with urgency. He kissed her frantically, sliding his fingers between her legs. She was already juicy and soft. She opened to him with a gasp, her nails sinking into his shoulders.

  He stopped short. “Are you sore?”

  “I’m good. Never better.”

  “Answer the question I asked. Not a different one.”

  “Don’t give me orders. I want you inside me. Right now.”

  He rolled on top of her, and then went still. “Condoms?” he asked hopefully.

  She shook her head slowly. “Implant.”

  “Oh.” He hesitated, studying her face. “So we’re good, then?”

  She pulled him closer. “Obviously. Shut up. I keep saying that.”

  “Yeah. Makes me hot.”

  His body wasn’t giving him a choice, not with her luscious form on full display.

  Bracing her slender feet against his chest, he growled as he shoved every inch of his naked shaft slowly inside her.

  “Yes,” he gasped, shuddering. “Oh yes. So fucking . . . good.”

  He seized her hands, winding his fingers through hers. Those pale, lush tits bouncing got him even hotter. The deep, rhythmic pump and glide picked up, sooner than he wanted it to. He couldn’t help it. Her panting turned into cries of pleasure as her body took him in. So deep.

  It overtook them long before he was ready. Both of them were rushing it, on edge, burning up. She gripped his ass, hips bucking with frantic eagerness, and he didn’t have a hope in hell of resisting the pull. Straight to the finish.

  The energy thundered over them, through them. Huge and obliterating.

  He stayed on top of her, eyes squeezed shut for a long time. Unwilling to face it.

  He was done. They had come together, but time had run out. This was the mercy fuck before she booted him out of wonderland. He pulled out, turned away and sat on the floor with his back to her, trying to pull on his clothes.

  The air was thick with unsaid words.

  He finally dared to look at her. Still pale, but her lips and nipples were a hot rosy pink.

  “Come home with me,” he said, because he just couldn’t help it.

  She got up and took down a faded green robe. Wrapped it around herself.

  “No,” she said. “Go. We’re done here.” Her voice was hard.

  He picked up her coat. Hung it up on the hook where he had hung his own, and reached into his pocket for the little thing, small and hard between his fingertips.

  The tracking tile that’d been on his Delaunay painting. What to do with it had come to him the second she handed the thing to him back at his house.

  So obvious, so necessary. No one could fault him for it.

  He adjusted the folds of Caro’s coat, and slipped the tile into her pocket. He could not let her disappear into nowhere, knowing that she was in danger.

  She stood so straight and unrelenting, her arms crossed over her chest. Not another word from her. She was just waiting for him to get lost.

  “Be careful,” he said to her. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “I will,” she said. “I always am. Goodbye.”

  Noah opened the door and propelled his body through it. The door clicked shut.

  Freddie grinned up at him from halfway down the stairs between the sixth floor and the fifth. “Lucky boy,” he croaked. “Everybody’s been wanting what you just got.”

  Rage he hadn’t allowed himself to feel roared up like jet fuel. He ran down the steps and fixed Freddie with his most terrifying stare.

  “Just so you know,” he said. “Anyone who disrespects her gets his liver torn out. Then I feed it to him, piece by piece. Is that clear?”

  Freddie’s smirk vanished. So did the leering gleam in his watery brown eyes. “Ah. Yeah. Clear. Got it.”

  “Spread the word,” Noah said. “As a community service.”

  Freddy nodded, blinking rapidly. Noah moved on down the staircase.

  He stumbled out onto the street, and tried, out of force of habit, to do an analog dive. It didn’t work. His body still throbbed with the overload of sensations, emotions. He didn’t want to put them in the deep freeze. He did not want to chill, after all that heat. He’d changed radically. After one single goddamn night.

  He was vaguely surprised to see that his car was still there. Seemed like a week had gone by since he left it.

  Zade’s ring tone sounded. He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, but then Zade himself walked around the corner. Noah slid the phone back into his pocket.

  “Well, well,” Zade said. “Imagine my surprise.”

  Noah had nothing to say. His hard drive was wiped.

  “I remember you saying to me yesterday that this was a mystery, to be unraveled carefully and discreetly,” Zade went on. “Guess I just didn’t hear the part when you said, ‘with my dick.’”

  Noah’s breath hissed through his teeth. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

  “Oh yeah? That’s Olund’s ex! I told you to flirt with the girl, not fuck her!”

  “Not his ex,” he said. “She wasn’t his lover.”

  “Yeah? Did she tell you that? What makes you so goddamn sure?”

  He had no doubts at all. Mark was covered with scars just like his. If Caro had seen such a phenomenon before, it would have been visible in her sig.

  But last night was none of Zade’s business. “Drop it.”

  “Fuck no,” Zade said belligerently. “I sat around all night in this shitty neighborhood, fending off the creeps who wanted to feel my fine ass for free, or buy drugs from me, or whatever else was squirming around inside their pointy little heads so I could pick up this woman’s tail again, and you drive up with her loaded into your Porsche? What, you forgot? You’ve been boning this girl all night, but did you call and say, dude, I’ll pick up the tab for your tacos and beer and you wait while I take her home and fuck her—whoa!”

  Zade grunted, startled as Noah slammed him against the brick wall, his hand wound into the folded collar of Zade’s thick shearling jacket.

  “Do not speak about her like that.” He barely recognized his own voice.

  Zade made no move to defend himself, though he was supremely capable of doing so. He just stared at Noah, his dark gaze alive with suspicion. “Holy shit,” he said. “What the hell? Are you in love with this woman?”

/>   “No!” He couldn’t seem to breathe. All the strength ran out of the arm that clamped the other man against the wall.

  He let go, and just stood there swaying, fists clenched.

  Zade looked almost scared. “I’ve never seen you like this. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you OK? Do I need to call—”

  “No.” Noah waved his hand in negation. “I’m just . . .” He broke off, rubbed his mouth. “It’s the AVP. And stress hormones. The combat program is kicking my ass.”

  “Oh.” Zade studied him intently. “So. What about the Ice Maiden?”

  Noah frowned at him blankly. “Who?”

  Zade rolled his eyes, disgusted. “Your fiancée? Simone? She doesn’t deserve this kind of shit, you two-timing pig.”

  “We broke up,” Noah said.

  Zade’s eyebrows shot up. “Say what? Did she cry?”

  “No,” Noah said, uncomfortably. “She dumped me. Gave me back the ring. Told me I was a prick, not in those exact words. That was it.”

  “Wow. And your rebound is Mark’s fugitive ex? You’re keeping it interesting, I’ll say that much for you.”

  “Don’t call her that,” Noah snapped. “She’s not Mark’s ex.”

  Zade’s own unique design of augmented sensory processing, with different brain stim and implants, made him as good at reading people as Noah, in his own way. It felt strange, being observed so intently. Not that he had any goddamn right to complain.

  “So what now?” Zade said finally.

  “You’d better up your game, for one,” Noah said. “She saw you twice and remembered every detail. She thinks you’re a hit man for Mark, with good reason. She’s skipping town because of you. Mark’s trying to destroy her, but she wouldn’t tell me a goddamn thing.”

  Zade grunted. “She saw me, huh? Sharp eyes, for an unmod.”

  “And you dress to impress.”

  “Now is not the time for cracks about my personal style,” Zade said. “You practically broke my ribs on that wall, dude.”

  “Boo hoo, poor you. Go check yourself into the hospital.”

  Zade snorted. “So, what’s the deal? Why bring her back to this dump at all? You could have sent one of us to get her things.”