by Kate Douglas
“Hell, no. And I bet you haven’t either.” Mac finished his beer and stood. “C’mon. She said she’d meet me at the apartment. You coming?”
“Oh. Yeah. I’m coming. Hopefully more than once.”
“Jackass.”
“Love you, too, sweetheart.” Dink shoved Mac’s shoulder. Laughing, Mac stumbled, grabbed Dink to keep from falling, and pulled him off balance.
The sharp staccato of gunshots filled the room. Glass covering a photo on the wall behind their table shattered.
“Down!” Still hanging on to Dink, Mac threw him to the floor. They scrambled on hands and knees into a hallway that led to the restrooms.
Another burst of gunfire sent chips of wood flying over their heads. Women screamed. Someone cursed. A man shouted.
“What the fuck? What’s going on?” Dink leaned toward the open doorway. Mac dragged him back.
“Idiot! Get back here. Those are real bullets.”
“Shit.” Dink flattened himself against the wall. A minute later, the sound of a siren grew closer and then stopped out in front. The two of them stayed hunkered down in the dark hallway, listening as law enforcement entered the bar.
“You two in the back. Police. Come out with your hands up.”
“We’re coming.” Mac stood up and pulled Dink to his feet. That was when he noticed blood dripping from his right arm. “Shit. I must have been hit.”
The police officer lowered his gun once they’d stepped out of the hallway. “My buddy’s been shot,” Dink said. He glanced at the pattern of bullet holes on the wall. “Crap. We were sitting right here. Did you catch whoever was shooting?”
“No.” The officer shook his head and glanced at his partner questioning patrons in the front of the bar. “Whoever it was took aim from the doorway. No one got a good look. They were all too busy diving for cover.”
He checked the red slash running across Mac’s bicep. “Looks like it just grazed you, but I bet it hurts like a son of a bitch. You’re damned lucky.”
Mac’s arm was beginning to throb. He caught Dink’s eye. “We were just getting up to leave. I stumbled. We were screwing around. Dink shoved me; I tripped.”
“And you pulled me down.”
“One of us could have ended up dead.”
The cop walked over to the wall and pointed to a pattern of holes in the wood paneling. “Would have been head height if you hadn’t ducked.” He turned and looked at both of them. “You’re right. One—or both—of you could have ended up dead.”
Mac climbed the steps to his apartment. His arm throbbed, but the paramedics had treated him at the scene. He’d decided he really didn’t need to go to the ER. Dink had chosen to stay.
Once the news crews showed up, he’d been in his element. Dink was definitely aiming for the right career—he came to life when someone shoved a microphone in his face. Mac, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to get away once the police had gotten all they needed from him for now.
He wondered if Zianne was waiting. He hadn’t meant to be this late, and his head was so screwed after the shooting that he honestly didn’t know if he wanted to see her or not.
She met him at the door, her eyes filled with worry, a whispered curse on her lips when she saw the bloody bandage on his arm. When she drew him close and kissed him, Mac decided he was glad she’d waited.
And just as glad Dink hadn’t come home with him tonight.
Their lovemaking was fierce, as if part of Mac realized he could have died. As if Zianne knew the same. Fulfilling and frantic, an act that left both of them gasping and shaking, bodies replete yet wanting more. Mac’s mind was at ease for the first time in days, in spite of the fact someone might have tried to kill him.
The wound on his arm was completely healed.
He didn’t ask Zianne how. Pulling her close against his chest, Mac nuzzled her thick, dark curls. “Thank you. Because of you, it appears I’ve got another shot at the grant, but it will be administered by someone other than Dean Johnson.”
“I’m glad. Now you can concentrate on your work. You have much to do. It will be easier with access to the faster computers they have in the lab.”
“How do you know this?” Mac brushed Zianne’s hair back from her eyes. Damn those eyes. He looked into their violet depths and was lost. But not tonight. Tonight he needed answers. “How is it you know me? That you know so much about my work? I’ve never discussed it with you, and yet you know things.”
Always she looked him directly in the eye. Always. But not now. Zianne’s eyes weren’t meeting his. She looked away, and he wondered what she was thinking. If Dink was right, she already knew what was on Mac’s mind.
“Not yet, Mac. I promise I will answer all your questions, but not yet. Can you give me time?”
He pulled away from her, drawing her gaze until she focused on him once again. “I want to trust you, Zianne. But I feel as if you’re hiding something important. Something that could be a deal breaker.”
She smiled, but it was a lost and sad-looking smile. Then she gently touched his cheek with one fingertip. “Are we dealing, Mac? Is that what this is? I tell you things you might not want to know, or the deal’s off? We’re off?”
“Who are you, Zianne? Can you tell me that?”
This time her smile lit up her entire face. “I am the woman who loves you. The one you wanted. You called me with your dreams and gave me form. As long as I exist, I will love you.”
He sighed, and yet he lacked the will to question her more tonight. Mac pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re talking in riddles again, but it’s been a long day and I’m too tired to figure out what you mean. God help me, woman, I love you, too. Will you be here in the morning?”
She tilted her chin enough to kiss his lips. “No. But I will return by evening. And I will help you with your project, if you’ll let me. I have some ideas you might like.”
“You’ve been helping me all along, haven’t you?”
She shrugged and glanced away. “Yes. But unlike that other woman with the fake red hair, I will never steal your work.”
“What?” He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “How do you know about that? What do you know?”
She nibbled on her bottom lip, the way she did when she was nervous. “I know that the one named Jen ripped pages from the tablet while you slept, and that the other, Phil Bennett, stole the soft disks filled with your notes. I cannot tell you how I know, but ...”
“I know. If you tell me you’ll have to kill me.”
She frowned so seriously, Mac burst into laughter. “I’m teasing.” He rolled over on his back and brought Zianne with him. “Some day, you’re going to tell me how you know this stuff. I know one thing, though. You’re a computer nerd at heart.”
She sprawled across him, all warm and womanly, rested her chin on her folded arms and gazed into his eyes. “You have no idea, MacArthur Dugan. No idea at all.”
“You’re not kidding,” he said. Then he kissed her, and once again put his questions aside.
9
Zianne carefully slipped from beneath Mac’s heavy weight. Sitting beside him on the rumpled bed, she watched him sleep. She clasped her hands tightly and rested them in her lap. It was the only way she could keep from brushing the tangled strands of dark blond hair away from his face.
Would she ever have enough of touching him? Of loving him? She hated the lies. Hated holding back who and what she really was, but the elders stood fast on this point, even though Zianne no longer agreed with them. She’d told them Mac’s suspicions were close enough to the truth, and he appeared more curious than disgusted. Still, so close now, they feared his reaction.
Mac demanded the truth. Zianne wanted him to know. She hated pushing his questions away, controlling his ability to question her, but was her desire purely selfish? Would the truth end what had been the few surviving Nyrians’ best chance at freedom since the Gar destroyed their world?
Was it so selfish
of her to want what Mac offered? Love, a chance at a real life—even if it meant forsaking immortality?
Yes. No. She closed her eyes, surprised by the quick burn of tears. She would not forsake her people. No matter how much she loved Mac, her feelings were unimportant when held up against the needs of her entire race. Sighing, almost certain this strange human heart was breaking, Zianne shimmered into a column of pure energy and disappeared.
Where the hell did Zianne go during the day? Mac studied his notes, including some new additions from Zianne, and wondered if it really mattered. She was absolutely brilliant, the way she took his ideas and expanded on them. He didn’t mind working nights for results like these.
Zianne had no concept of rules, of what should and shouldn’t work, thank goodness. No, she merely knew what would work, and between the two of them, they were already doing some amazing stuff.
“At least I know you’re not a vampire.” He muttered it as a joke, but realized he was glad he could toss that worry aside. He’d seen her in broad daylight a couple of times, and while it sounded pretty stupid, he was relieved. Still, he wished he could get the damned theme from The Twilight Zone out of his head.
Or thoughts of Area 51, courtesy of Dink.
He glanced at the clock. It was almost time to meet Dink and Zianne at Sloan’s for dinner. Dink had been looking into the investigation on campus, and Mac was anxious for news.
Once the warrants had been served, the dean had been arrested. Of course, he’d immediately made bail, but Dink was closely following Dean Johnson’s legal hassles. His investigative techniques were sometimes unorthodox, but he’d discovered stuff even the police hadn’t known to look for.
Mac wondered what else, if anything, Dink had found. Tucking his notepad and disks into his backpack, Mac slung the bag over his shoulder and headed down the stairs.
Dink and Zianne waited on the sidewalk. “What are you guys doing here? I thought we were going to meet at Sloan’s?” Mac took Zianne’s hand, tugged her close and kissed her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and tucked her close against his side.
“Zianne was just headed up to your apartment. I was early, so I grabbed her. By the way, I’m buying.” Dink tossed the invitation over his shoulder as he headed toward the bar.
Now that was unexpected. Mac laughed. “You? What’s the catch? I know it’s not out of the goodness of your heart.”
“Enjoy the moment, my friend. You’re spending an evening in the company of Channel Three’s new morning beat reporter.”
“You’re shittin’ me! Really? They’re actually going to turn you loose in the City by the Bay? With a cameraman and a mic?” Laughing, Mac caught up to Dink, shook his hand and pulled him into a hug.
“Yep!” Dink hugged him back before turning away to grab Zianne. He wrapped his arms around her and planted a big kiss on her mouth. “The news director called this morning. Said he liked the way I handled myself on the air when I got interviewed after the shooting. I’ve been sending them updates on what’s happening with the investigation since, and their reporter’s been in touch. I told him a week ago that news reporting was my goal. They’ve got a spot opening up in a couple of weeks and asked if I was interested. I don’t even have to interview.”
“Dink, that’s wonderful.” Zianne hugged him again. “But the job is in the city. That’s a long way.”
He kissed her cheek. “I’ll need to get a place in San Francisco. I’ll be low man on the roster, mostly working their cable channel, but it’s a start.”
They’d reached the bar. Mac opened the door. “After you, news guy. When you’re rich and famous, will you still remember your lowly friends?”
Dink snorted. “You’re kidding. If anyone here ends up rich and famous, I imagine it’ll be you and Zianne, especially now that you’re working together. C’mon. Let’s eat. You can tell me what new stuff you’re building. You know I’m expecting something capable of blowing up the known universe.”
“Not yet,” Zianne said, laughing. “That’s next week.”
Mac glanced at her and sighed. He trusted her, and yet he couldn’t help but wonder. When he really thought about what they’d developed in just a matter of weeks, their concepts and ideas were so alien, so unheard of, that Mac wondered where they came from.
He’d come up with a basic concept, but Zianne would run with it. Mac followed her lead but they worked together, taking the programs as far as they could. Mac thought of himself as the nuts and bolts guy. Zianne’s job was fine-tuning the software. Her abilities were incomparable.
Their work had quickly drawn a lot of attention. Government attention, which meant large sums of money in their future, yet Mac still knew nothing about her. He knew he loved her, but even that powerful emotion was clouded in questions—questions that remained there, hovering in the back of his mind, as if their noise had been muted, as if his need to know wasn’t strong enough for him to risk alienating Zianne.
What the hell was she doing to him? He might as well be bewitched. He raised his head and caught her watching him with a sad little smile on her lips.
And once again, Mac realized he didn’t need answers. Not now. He leaned over and kissed her, and the three of them found a table in the back of the crowded bar.
It was the same table where he and Dink had sat not so long ago, the night they’d almost been shot. Mac glanced at Dink. “Recognize this spot?”
“Yeah. At least they patched the holes in the walls.”
“The guy’s still out there. They haven’t caught him yet.”
Zianne glanced from Dink to Mac. “This is the same table where you were shot?”
“Yep.” He glanced around, but the place was full. “There’s no place else to sit. You okay with it?”
“I guess.” She smiled at him. “As long as you are.”
He thought about it and realized he was fine. The attack seemed like it had happened to someone else, and in a way, it had. He’d changed since then. His entire life had changed, and it was all for the better.
After dinner, they headed back to Mac’s. He glanced at Dink, walking next to Zianne, laughing at something she’d said. Damn, he was going to miss him, but it was probably for the best. He loved Dink, but not the way Dink needed to be loved. Maybe once he got to San Francisco he’d find a guy who put him first. A romantic kind of love, not just a best friend who happened to swing both ways.
“Damned light’s burned out again.” Mac stopped at the bottom of the stairs to his apartment. “Can you guys see okay? I can go up for a flashlight.”
“It’s fine. Just don’t let go of the handrails.” Zianne went on ahead. Dink was right behind her.
“You can trust me. I’ll catch anyone who falls.” Laughing, Mac took up the rear, but it was like walking into a damned cave going up to the fourth floor. He stuck his key in the door.
It clicked open before he had a chance to turn the key in the lock. “That’s weird. Must have forgotten to lock it this morning.” He reached in and flipped on the light as he opened the door enough for Zianne to walk in ahead of him.
She screamed. Mac grabbed her arm and pulled her back as two men rushed them. Dink swung at the first guy and connected, but the huge man barely responded to the impact. Instead he cursed, shifted to one side, and punched Dink in the midsection.
Dink went down hard as Mac grappled with the second man. Someone on the floor below shouted. Mac couldn’t tell what he said—he was too busy trading blows with his assailant. The guy was strong, though, and fighting scared. It took a few punches, but Mac’s fist finally connected with his jaw and he toppled.
Spinning around, Mac kicked at the one who’d just punched Dink. He missed the man’s soft belly and connected with his thigh, but it was enough to make him stumble. Mac grabbed him by the collar and planted his fist in the man’s face, but he twisted out of Mac’s grasp and broke free. Blowing hard, with blood running from his nose, the guy crouched beside Dink’s supine form with a knife clenc
hed in his right hand.
Blood poured from a wound in Dink’s belly. Mac’s gaze flashed from the bloody knife to his bleeding friend. He glanced up just as the thug came at him with the knife. The flash of the blade caught Mac off guard, but he twisted out of the way just in time. Grunting with the missed attack, the guy shoved past Mac and raced out the door.
Somehow, in the dark, he must have missed the step.
Mac heard the scream as he went over the railing. The solid thud when he hit the ground had a sickening, final sound to it, but there was no time to appreciate the victory. The one Mac had knocked down was up again, coming right at him. He was big, but he moved fast.
This one didn’t bother with a knife. He whipped out a gun, but before he had a chance to fire the thing, what looked like a bolt of lightning slammed into him. He screamed, dropped the gun, and fell to his knees. Stunned, Mac backed away as the crackling energy circled the man like a flaming rope and dragged him out the door.
Another scream, another dull thud as the body hit the ground four floors down. Mac fell to his knees beside Dink, blotting the impossible out of his mind. There was no time to consider what he’d just seen, not now with blood pouring from a deep knife wound in his friend’s belly. Mac applied pressure, but it was obvious a main artery had been severed. Hot blood pumped out between his fingers.
“Zianne? Where are you? Can you apply pressure? I need to call nine-one-one.”
“I’m here, Mac.” She fell to her knees beside Mac. “Oh, Dink. Poor baby.” She glanced at Mac, took a deep breath, and softly whispered, “Please, Mac. I love you. Don’t hate me.”
He didn’t have a chance to respond. Zianne disappeared. Mac was blinded once again by a crackling bolt of pure energy, a flash of searing light that filled the room before it coalesced into a miniature tornado and dove deep inside Nils Dinkemann.
Stunned, Mac sat back on his heels and stared at Dink. Light seemed to flicker behind his closed eyelids, and his horrible wound closed as Mac watched. Dink’s blood had pooled on the floor around his body, but even that blood was disappearing, flowing in reverse as if something sucked every drop back inside. He’d almost bled out—now Dink’s color was returning, his chest rising and falling slowly as he took first one breath, and then another.
