by Cathy Pegau
Shaking off a sudden chill, I stepped into the empty car. What a jerk. I passed my ID over the panel. “Change of plans. One-thirty-five, please.”
“Yes, Miss Baines,” it replied. At least the electrons at Exeter were sincere.
Despite the additional validation that something dodgy was going on at Exeter, the reminder that I still had to use Zia weighed heavily as the elevator rose. My job wasn’t over yet, though if I had time and opportunity I’d attempt to look harder at Pritchard and Clemens. The dull pain in my head returned as the elevator reached my floor.
Downing a few medtabs before getting back to work was foremost on my mind when I entered Zia’s outer office. When I opened the door I noted two things: Her door was ajar though she didn’t seem to be inside, and there was a package on my desk.
I set the lists down by my console. Nothing on the cream-colored box indicated who it was meant for or where it had come from. The shape and satiny finish suggested high-end clothing. Zia must have ordered something, though she’d never received personal packages here before. I ran a finger along the smooth top, wondering what was inside.
“Open it,” Zia said from behind me.
I peered over my shoulder at her. She stood just outside the kitchenette, stirring a cup of coffee. A mischievous smile played on her lips.
I slipped the lid off with a faint rustle of the filmy golden paper layered inside and folded back each thin sheet. As I lifted the last one, silver glimmered; my heart thumped hard. I brushed my fingertips across the silky dress. Though folded, it appeared similar to the halter style I’d worn the night before. It had a different embroidered design, and the fabric was richer, more luxuriant than anything I’d ever felt.
“You looked so beautiful,” Zia said. She was closer now, just behind my right shoulder. “I was afraid Clemens had ruined yours.”
Flushed with disbelief and pleasure, I faced her. “It’s wonderful.” I tried to give her a mock frown, but it was hard to do around my smile. “You’re not trying to buy my affections, are you?”
For a moment, pain touched her green eyes, like I’d insulted her or brought up something terrible. But she realized I was teasing and grinned back. “No, Liv. I don’t think you’re the kind of girl who can be bought.”
It was my turn to feel a twinge, but I kept it off my face. “I can be if you keep plying me with expensive clothes.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard her laugh, but it sounded bright and new. My heart skipped. “I didn’t get it to win points,” she said. Something warm and more serious filled her eyes. “I got it because I like seeing you smile.”
The teasing air left the room as we stared at each other. This was how she did things “right,” how she showed she cared and laid the groundwork for a relationship. Zia wasn’t perfect, especially if she was involved in a cover-up concerning the K-73 filters, but at that moment she was damn close. I had to dig my fingernails into my palm, or she would have seen me cry.
Ignoring our unspoken agreement, I stepped forward and touched my lips to hers. “Thank you,” I whispered against her mouth.
Zia gripped her coffee cup with both hands and the color on her cheeks deepened. “You’re welcome.”
She brushed past me to go into her office, casting an almost shy glance over her shoulder before disappearing inside.
I sighed quietly as my smile waned. Like a heroine in a sappy historic vid, Zia Talbot was smitten. And, God help me, she wasn’t the only one.
Chapter Fifteen
I’d tried to make this just another job, tried to tell myself that it was only physical attraction. Tried, and failed miserably. Admitting my feelings for Zia would only lead to heartache. I had to shut them away, finish the job and get the hell out. I had to—wanted to—pretend they didn’t exist.
But I couldn’t.
With the dress box tucked under my arm I rode the PubTrans train back to the flat late that evening, wondering what it was that made her so different, so difficult to just lead on and use without getting emotionally involved. Granted, casual sex for the sake of a job wasn’t my modus operandi, but I’d had casual affairs before. What had she done—what hadn’t I done?—to quell the warning bells and voices of logic that told me to back off? I needed to know so I wouldn’t repeat the same mistake in the future.
Sure, she was beautiful, but it went beyond that. I’d met plenty of attractive people, talked to them, flirted with them. Had been tempted by a couple of the women and slept with more than a few of the men. But none of them, male or female, captivated me like Zia did. Her presence in the same room made me stand taller. Seeing her smile made me giddy, and if that smile was directed at me in particular it took my breath away. Working for her was exhausting, but I eagerly anticipated every assignment. Having her praise a job well done made me flush with pride, delighted to have pleased her.
And that’s when it hit me.
Swaying with the rhythm of the PubTrans car, packed in with several dozen other tired, cranky commuters, I realized what it was about Zia Talbot that I couldn’t ignore. She challenged me, made me want to be a topnotch assistant for her. She’d tossed me to the wolves that first day, forced me to meet her standards. My motive for living up to those standards wasn’t what she assumed it to be, but the end result was the same.
Despite my grumblings about being a peon in the corporate world, I enjoyed being her assistant because I enjoyed being near her. The job wasn’t as exhilarating as a successful bank hit, but her effect on me was intoxicating. Talking to her, hearing her laugh, seeing her green eyes light up when they met mine gave me more of a sense of wellbeing than any amount in my bank account ever had. Or ever would. I liked who I was when we were together, and I wanted to be that person. For both of us.
But it was all a lie, Liv, a petulant little voice piped into my head.
No. Not all of it. The reason I was there was a lie. There was no denying that. But all things being equal, I was one of the best damn assistants Exeter had ever seen. Clemens had said as much just before he spilled wine all over me. You didn’t become good at your job unless you took some degree of pleasure in it, though most of my pleasure derived from being with Zia.
Great, the voice scoffed, so when this is over you can go work for some other corporate VIP on some other distant planet under some other name. Have a good time.
“Piss off,” I muttered as the train came to a stop. I wasn’t speaking to anyone in the car, but they made a little extra room for me to exit anyway.
All that great ability as an admin wouldn’t change the fact I was about to betray and hurt someone I cared for. Possibly two someones, if Tonio and I didn’t get Sterling’s protection. My head started to throb as I joined the crowd ascending the stairs to street level, wondering what I could do to fix this.
The question was, which was stronger—my instinct for self-preservation? The need to diminish my newfound sense of guilt? Or my feelings for Zia?
Should I tell her what I’d been doing? That would alleviate some guilt, but she’d hate me, and it would get me arrested by Sterling or killed by the Greys. Possibly both. Go on with stealing from her then tell her? She’d still hate me, and I still might get arrested or killed. Could I go ahead with Sterling’s plan and find Zia after I “disappeared” from the ‘Verse? No, there’d still be the matter of her hating me, and I couldn’t bear the idea of seeing it in her eyes. That would kill me in a different way.
None of these choices ended with a happily ever after. In my world, what did I expect, roses and rainbows?
No matter what I did she was going to hate me, but I couldn’t just vanish without a word. So I’d take the coward’s way out. I’d go through with Sterling’s plan, hope he really could keep Tonio and me safe from the Greys, and record a slobbery, heartfelt apology to send to Zia. She’d be furious, but she’d get over it. Get over me. Maybe someday I’d be able to face her, give her a real apology. But I had to stay alive to do that.
I pulled ope
n the door of my building and frowned. Somehow I’d made it from the PubTrans station without remembering how I got here. Going about on autopilot wasn’t normal for me, but neither was letting myself become emotionally involved on a job, so perhaps my sense of normal was skewed these days.
I shook off the mental cobwebs my guilt created. It would do no one any good if I couldn’t think straight.
Speaking of not thinking straight…Natalia waited in front of the elevator, arms laden with packages and her vacant eyes staring at the closed doors. Her short coat did nothing to protect her mini-skirted long legs against the blowing snow outside, and her blond hair was somewhat mussed. Why did she always look like she’d just rolled out of bed?
I stood off to the side and behind her. Maybe she wouldn’t notice me from whatever planet she was on; I was in no mood for vapid conversation.
The elevator doors slid open. I considered waiting for the next car, but Natalia glanced over her shoulder as she entered. “Coming?”
Damn. I shifted the satchel strap on my shoulder. “Sure.”
We relayed our desired floors as the doors whispered closed. The car shuddered as it began its ascent.
“How was work?” she asked in her husky, just-woke-up-despite-the-fact-it’s-evening voice.
“Fine.” Keeping my answer simple seemed like a good idea. Natalia never impressed me as having a vast attention span.
She adjusted the package under her arm and sighed. “Chaz was disappointed when I didn’t stick it out at Exeter.”
Just as Tonio had said last night. Taunting Natalia about her failure lacked fulfillment now, and damning her for screwing up so I’d had to come in was petty and pointless.
Curiosity did get the better of me. “What happened?”
She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Talbot didn’t like me.”
I had to give Zia credit for her instincts on that one. Natalia was pretty, and not a terrible person despite the company she kept, but she wasn’t the brightest star in the sky either.
“That’s too bad,” I said trying to sound empathetic. “She’s really great to work with.”
I just had to get that zinger in there.
Natalia didn’t seem to catch it. “My mother always wanted me to be something respectable, like a secretary or a med tech,” she said as the elevator stopped at my floor.
The doors opened, and I stepped out. The thought of Natalia wielding a laser scalpel scared the hell out of me, but I turned and smiled at her like you’d smile at a slow child. “Very nice. I’ll see you later.”
Her blue eyes focused on me like a needler. “You look a lot like your mother.”
Air whooshed from my lungs like I’d been sucker punched by a Bidarki gorilla. Staring at her, I braced a hand against the wall next to the elevator to keep from falling over. When I could breathe again, I managed to squeak out, “What?”
The doors started to close; Natalia blocked them with one slender, manicured hand. She held my gaze, knowledge of more than the latest fashion craze or makeup tips burning in her eyes. “Spray for bugs, Liv. Your flat is crawling with them.”
Bugs? Willem. It had to be.
I’d heard the phrase “having your blood run cold” but never really understood it until that moment. Icicles shot down my limbs as liquid nitrogen swirled in my gut.
“Why is he…?” But my frozen brain sussed out the answer as the question left my numb lips.
Natalia flicked her gaze up a floor. Or maybe she was rolling her eyes at my stupidity. Ironic, that.
Willem was keeping tabs on us, which wasn’t a big shock. I just thought he’d been doing it by talking to Tonio and hovering around our flat more often than necessary. Not with audio or video. Besides, Tonio would have checked for bugs. Wouldn’t he? I couldn’t remember if he had, and I wanted to kick myself for not considering the possibility sooner.
Maybe Tonio knew they were there all along, said the voice of paranoia in my head.
No. He’d been too relaxed, too normal when we were alone in the flat. Too willing to kiss me and potentially do more.
So? It just means he’s playing a game. Like you are.
I couldn’t wrap my brain around that. Not yet.
“Why are you telling me this?” My fingers flexed, forcing skin, muscle and bone against paint and plaster as a more critical concern came to mind. “If Willem knows who she is…”
I couldn’t finish the thought, but Natalia nodded.
“Be careful,” she said as she let the doors shut.
It didn’t occur to me to doubt Natalia as I turned and sprinted to the flat, though I wondered why she’d told me in the first place. Maybe she didn’t like Willem any more than I did. She might have been more perceptive than I’d given her credit for.
If she was lying—and if she was I’d kill her—I’d look like a fool when I spoke to Tonio, but I could handle that. If she was telling the truth, if Willem had planted audio and video surveillance, I needed to warn Sabine and Tonio. And finish the job with Zia so we could get away from the Greys as soon as possible.
Complete abandonment was out of the question. That would piss off Willem, but it would also piss off Sterling. I needed Sterling for protection against the Greys.
I fumbled in my satchel, dropping the dress box onto the carpeted floor and spilling the silver silk into a shimmery heap. Finally coming up with my key card, I swiped it over the black lock box with shaking hands. The admit light turned green, and the innards clicked as I scooped up the dress and box.
“Tonio!” I called, bursting into the flat.
Easy, Liv. If Willem learns you know about the bugs, he’ll be down here in a heartbeat.
I forced myself to take a slow breath and not search every corner for bugs or vid feeds as I gently shut the door. “Tonio,” I repeated in a calmer tone, “you home?”
Even as my words finished echoing in my throbbing head, I knew the flat was empty. Damn! Where was he? I could call him on his comm, but what if Willem had tapped it?
And what if Tonio is tighter with him than you realize?
“Shut the hell up,” I muttered so Willem’s “ears” wouldn’t hear. Tonio and Willem couldn’t be that close. I’d seen the look on his face when Willem threatened me; Tonio wasn’t that good an actor. After repeating that to myself on the way to my bedroom, I believed it. Mostly.
Trying not to think about any surveillance Willem may have planted in my room or the lav, I stripped out of my work clothes, took a fast shower, exfoliated and depilated as necessary, then slicked my hair back with some salon goo from Miss Alana’s. A little dab went a long way in my shorter tresses. Wearing a touch of makeup, the new dress over nothing but lacy panties and a pair of black knee-high boots, I fished my pulser out from beneath the mattress. It felt heavier than I remembered. Shoving the weapon into my satchel, I was back out the door in under thirty minutes.
At the elevator I hit the down button, my toes tapping an impatient tattoo. Time seemed to be moving too quickly while everything else traveled at the speed of a glacier. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do everything I had to do in the next several hours. I knew I didn’t want to do the things I was going to do in the next several hours. Not this way.
The light above the elevator door blinked on, indicating its arrival. With my hand inside my satchel clutching the pulser’s grip, I held my breath and thumbed the power switch. The gun warmed as the doors slid open on an empty car.
I nearly wobbled in relief on my eight-centi heels. I’d more than half expected Willem to be standing there, his ice-blue eyes boring into me as he reached for his pulser. He might not kill me—I still hadn’t finished the job—but he’d find a way to make me wish I were dead. Of that, I was sure.
Powering down the pulser, I entered the car and rode it to the lobby, forcing myself to stay calm, to breathe normally.
Someone once said, it’s not how you handle Plan A, but how you handle Plan B. As I left the elevator and strode outside into Pand
alus’s winter night, I was working on Plan E.
My first stop was a small, cramped store several blocks away. I asked the clerk at the front for electronics, and he waved toward the right. Scooting past racks of stims, seds and candies, I grabbed a pay-as-you-go comm and tossed one of my untraceable emergency chits to the clerk.
Leaving the store, I tore open the package and activated access to the Central Network. The screen glowed to life. I skimmed the user information, displayed as required by law, as I scrolled down.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I stabbed the “Accept” icon at the bottom of the legalese. Code violations were the least of my problems.
Keeping the comm on audio only, I entered the digits Mom had given me on her last visit as I hurried to the nearest PubTrans station another three blocks away. I could have taken a taxi, but I wasn’t sure I had enough in chits to get me where I was going undetected. PubTrans was cheap and anonymous.
“Hello?” Her voice was rightfully wary, considering there was no ID to let her know who was calling.
“It’s me,” I said, hoping the low-quality electronics in the comm, and my rapid breathing, didn’t distort my voice too much. For some reason, not identifying myself seemed prudent. Maybe it was sheer paranoia on my part, but as of thirty minutes ago there was no such thing as being too careful.
“Oh.” The soft, almost inaudible buzz of the comm’s connection hung between us for several moments then she said, “I’m surprised to hear from you like this. What can I do for you?”
My mother, bless her devious heart, picked up on my caution and responded in smooth tones. But I could hear a thousand questions behind each word.
“Get out of town,” I said as I dodged slushy spray from a passing ground car. “Now.”
“But—”
“No buts. Get on the next train or air trans. I’ll contact you when I can.” If I lived long enough.
There was another pause. Finally she said, “Let me help.”
“No! You don’t even know what’s going on.” Why couldn’t she just do what she was told?
