Cardinal, (Citizen Saga, Book 2)

by Claire, Nicola

  Chapter 21

  But What A Way To Go

  Trent

  Oh, God. I was so going straight to hell for this. Part of me wanted Lena to fight. If she did, one last time, I'd let her slip away and damn the fact that the others wouldn't have had time yet to finish the task I'd set them. If Lena pushed, I'd put her first. Before everything.

  But she didn't.

  She stilled, statue hard before me, and then slowly, bit by incremental bit, she melted into the kiss. Opened her lips, invited me inside. As though she lacked the strength to resist this. To refuse this. To refuse me. Her. Fuck, I don't know anymore.

  But she kissed me back.

  She always kissed me back, and the euphoria that thought produced made my desire sky-rocket. All thoughts of why I was using this particular tactic to keep her contained left my addled brain, replaced with pure, unadulterated lust.

  I groaned, as I pushed her back against the wall, one hand fisted in her glorious hair the other already making its pleasurable way across the taut skin of her stomach towards her breast under her shirt.

  The flames that had been left untended for the past few hours, since we'd last kissed like this, flared back to vibrant, passion-fuelled life inside. I clamped down the fervent need to lift her up off the floor and wrap her legs around my waist and take her hard against this wall, right here, in the open, observed by several cameras. Both ours and Harjeet's, at a guess.

  I held onto my sanity by a thin thread, the heat of her mouth enticing me to abandon all reason. The heat from her body begging me to throw caution to the wind.

  Just lift her. Just rock against that hot, and fuck me, probably wet, centre. Make her want you as much as you want her.

  I groaned as she whimpered, her delicate hands fisted in my hair, pulling me tight against her lips, giving as much as she was taking, eager and just as hungry as me for more.

  All thought of claustrophobia had left her. I could have easily just walked her back into her room and shut the door. Sealed out the rest of the world and taken her. Finished what we'd started. And by God, I wanted to. Fuck, my cock was begging me to.

  But I held back. I held onto my sanity, even while my libido cried out that I was insane. I held onto Lena, as though she was worth more than a trick to distract; a reward for winning a battle, even if it was a small battle between just Lena and me.

  I wanted her. Dear fucking God, I wanted her. But not like this.

  Not when I couldn't trust her. And she didn't trust me.

  How many minutes had we been kissing? Had it been long enough? I didn't want it to end, but the longer this went on the harder it was to have good intentions. The harder it was to remember why I couldn't fuck her against this wall. The harder it was to rationalise why I started doing this, and it had nothing to do with my aching erection, or the obsession I had with this Elite.

  Si hadn't given the signal through the earpiece I was wearing. Letting me know Alan had placed the bugs and cameras in Harjeet's private quarters, while Emir and Paul kept the D'awan and his shadow entertained somewhere else.

  At least that meant only Si would be watching this show on the vid-screens. Unless Harjeet had someone keeping an eye on things, and if he did, we were so screwed.

  But no news, in this case, was not good news, and so getting all hot and bothered with Lena right now was definitely out.

  Not that my body agreed with that. No, not a fucking chance. I swear I was starting to whimper too, and it had nothing to do with ecstasy and everything to do with the painful bulge in my pants.

  Which, in the next instant, was definitely in more ecstasy than agony as Lena's hand slipped into my snapped open jeans fly and wrapped around my swollen shaft.

  My head fell back, my lips parted on a, "Oh, hell yes," as my eyes closed when I felt her direct me back towards her room.

  I should have been fighting this. I should have been acting the gentleman and calming things down. This was no way to treat an Elite. No way to teat Lena. But as her hand started a firm stoking motion, and her teeth grazed the side of my neck over a sensitive spot, my hips jerked in her hold.

  And all bets were off.

  I made a sound. A hungry, desperate, ravenous sound.

  She soothed with soft kisses and tender noises against my heated skin.

  God, I was an animal and Lena deserved so much better than this.

  And then she was trying to remove my jeans, crouching down with her face right there.

  All thoughts left me. Just her lips. My straining erection. And that sinfully gorgeous mouth.

  She tugged on the jeans cuff as it caught on my boot. I bent down to help her, making her move back, unfortunately away from where I wanted her most. And then she pushed against my shoulder, tipping me over onto the bed. I expected her to follow. Wanted her to follow.

  Needed her to follow.

  But all I heard was the cool click of the lock on the door and the keypad activating, undoubtedly with a new lock-code.

  I blinked in my surroundings. My empty surroundings. Just Lena's room, but no Lena.

  And smiled.

  She'd fought back, all right. And fuck, she'd done it in style.

  I lay back on the bed, wrapped a hand around my aching shaft and tried to think through the desperate need consuming my body.

  She'd fought back. So I'd let her go. For now.

  But fuck! It just made me want her more.

  I let an amused chuckle out, placed a hand under my head, making myself comfortable, and then replayed every touch of her lips against mine, every sweep of her fingers across my heated flesh, every delightful sound she'd made just now.

  It was some time before I could move, but I felt a hell of a lot better for it. The woman was driving me utterly crazy. And after checking the door was indeed locked with a new code, I took advantage of her bathroom... and had a very cold shower.

  Lena Carr was going to be the death of me.

  But what a way to go.

  Chapter 22

  A Thrill, A Dance, An Escape

  Lena

  My fists trembled as I clenched my fingers on the other side of the closed door. That had been harder to do than I'd thought. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply through my nose, purposely releasing the images in my mind's grip. Once I stopped envisaging that impossible hunger in Trent's eyes, the sensations he'd elicited were easier to ignore.

  This man was going to be the death of me.

  I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders and headed in the direction of the tech room. My bare feet making no sound on the hardwood floor.

  The halls were empty and still as I walked them. So when I approached the door I could hear Simon talking quietly. Almost too quietly, as though trying to hide his words. The bugs must have been removed by now, but maybe he feared more.

  When I stepped into the room I found him alone, so who he'd been talking to, I didn't know. A quick glance at his multiple vid-screens told me he didn't have a telephone line open. In fact several of the screens were blank. Unusual. Normally he utilised every one, either watching Harjeet's compound or the city streets.

  He smiled up at me, strain evident around the edges of his eyes, which quickly averted from my face. A slightly sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. The images so quickly banished, of Trent in my room, on my bed, came rushing back in. But this time I tried to look at them from a distance. Not so easy to do with my body refusing to forget his touch.

  Trent locking me in, changing the code on my keypad. Hours before I'd want to test. Trent insisting I stay and talk to him, even when I'd cracked the door code, his flat palm against the grain of wood on the door. Trent glancing at his watch, appearing angry, frustrated, then swiftly moving to distract me with a kiss.

  A kiss I had fallen for.

  Heat washed up my cheeks as something cold and hard settled inside my chest. For a second I really didn't know how to take this. This mistrust that I'd thought we'd overcome. At least to some degree. I felt
quite ill at what he'd done, unsure of the reasons why, but certain it was because he didn't believe in me. The weight of disappointment was so very vast.

  I shook my head, sucked in a deep breath and walked toward Simon. Of all the rebels, he was the weakest link, in some regards. Soft hearted. Too intelligent for his own good. Often he overlooked what happened around him, choosing to live inside his vid-screens and electronics instead of out there in the real world. His skills were utilised here, not on the streets where his long blond hair could get him wiped. Simon was an asset, definitely.

  But he was also a liability.

  "Have you seen Tan?" I asked, casually, leaning my behind against the bench, so I could see his face.

  He fidgeted at first, then latched on to my question. It was clearly not the reason why the base was deserted and why Trent had just stabbed a knife right through my heart.

  "Left earlier this morning. Haven't seen him since."

  "Can you locate him on iRec?"

  "I haven't tried," Si admitted. "Wouldn't he get arrested if he was checked?"

  I shrugged my shoulders, feeling more comfortable with that move the more I used it. Loving the way it made those who knew me uncomfortable. An Elite acting like an informal Citizen.

  "Wang Chao has already tried that route," I pointed out. "He prefers an element of surprise over repeat performances. In any case, Tan wouldn't stay long enough in one place to be caught."

  If anyone could walk the streets of Wánměi lost in the crowd it would be Lee Tan.

  "I'll give it a go," Si offered, relaxing more and more as I pursued this and not anything else.

  "Where did my gear go to?" I asked, moving off from the bench. Si tensed.

  OK. So I was getting closer. Had the rebels taken my savings and didn't want me to know? Money wasn't an issue for me. Strangely enough. An Elite who couldn't care any less for credits. Or had they taken my equipment? And if so, why?

  "Down the back by Emir's station. In the cupboard," Si advised, shoulders still held rigid. "Did you need something?"

  "Just wanted to see what Trent managed to grab. I was a little too busy at the time to pay attention."

  "I'm sure you were. Blasting a hole in the door, wasn't it?" Every lifeline I threw him he grabbed.

  I huffed out a laugh. It was expected. And walked back to Emir's desk, the communications console abandoned for what I didn't yet know. Crouching down I withdrew my duffel, amused to note the credits were still stacked inside. So, not the money. Then maybe the devices. I pulled a few out, and flicked through the rest, but without knowing what had been here to start with, I couldn't tell what was missing now.

  But there were no listening devices and only one mini-cam. I sat still, staring at nothing, trying to reason out what Trent had Alan, Emir and Paul doing. Si was clearly the co-ordinator, watching on those vid-screens of his, switching them off as soon as I approached. I glanced over my shoulder and checked on him. He had the iRec system up on one screen, the hallways of the compound on another, and now some streets around Little D'awa and the greater Wánměi. Covering his tracks quite nicely.

  I shook my head. Whatever Trent was up to he didn't want me to know.

  Disappointment was swallowed up by anger.

  I grabbed a small bag from a side pocket on the duffel and loaded it with the gear I'd need tonight. Getting it out of here unseen by Simon would be impossible. But what I'd taken shouldn't give too much away. Just my usual arsenal of thieving equipment. They'd all expect me to want to be armed with those.

  I stood up and returned to Simon, the bag slung over my shoulder casually; out in the open, nothing to see here.

  "Find him?" I asked.

  Si shook his head. "If he's out there, he's remained off-grid. Exactly what I'd do."

  "Hmm," I said, as non-committally as I could.

  "What are you going to do, Lena?"

  "I think I might know where he is," I offered.

  "You're going now?"

  "What else is there to do?"

  "You should take someone. Alan or Trent."

  "Tan will run and this is between him and me," I pointed out. All truth, hiding the real lie.

  "OK, but be careful. You'll want to test later tonight."

  "If I'm not back by curfew, then I deserve to test," I quipped.

  I turned away, but stopped before I reached the door. Spinning back I caught Si watching me, concern and indecision warring on his face.

  "Have you cleared anywhere else other than here?" I asked.

  "For bugs?" Si queried. I nodded. "No. We need the cameras in all the communal areas, so there isn't any point trying to get rid of those."

  "What about the bedrooms? Or the vans?"

  He blinked. Then all hesitation left his features. The tech guru was back.

  "You think we need to?"

  "Harjeet knows all."

  He blinked again.

  "This is bad," he said, under his breath. Then stilled, his eyes slowly coming up to meet mine. "You don't trust him." Not a question.

  "Right now, Simon, I don't trust anyone."

  I held his gaze until he looked away. Then turned on my heel and left the room, wending my way through the silent corridors, down the stairs and towards Harjeet's stall. The sounds of Park Road met me first, followed by the humidity. The sun was high, not a rain cloud to be seen. I could practically see the heat waves as they shimmered over the pavement. A sea of colourful sun umbrellas could be seen beyond the sparkling vibrancy of Harjeet's clothing stall. Little D'awa out in force but shielded from the oppressively thick sunshine.

  It wasn't the best conditions to be attempting a heist, not that I'd be scaling any walls or flinging myself off the infinity pool railing at the very top of The Quay Resort. But usually I used the cloak of night, the security of a thunderstorm. This expedition, though, was anything but usual.

  I watched from the back of the stall as Harjeet's wizened old vendor called out to passers-by. The stall was empty of shoppers, but he continued to shout a greeting, attempting to entice clientèle out of the heat, into the marginally cooler shade of the shop itself.

  I cleared my throat as I moved to approach him. He didn't turn, just kept singing his greeting, weaving his web in order to trap. It was a type of lyrical dance, the notes flowing high and then dropping an octave, the edges sharp, not smooth, but garnering attention for that simple measure alone. Half of these people may not even understand D'maru, but the song the old man created made them turn and stare.

  "Good morning," I greeted in the same language, when he paused to suck in air.

  His wrinkled face broadened into a toothless grin, as he cocked his head and took in my jeans and t-shirt. Citizen appropriate, but clearly underdressed for here.

  "You wear," he said in D'maru. "Eyes," he pressed, then nodded toward the changing area; a single piece of thin fabric hanging forlornly off a cord strung across a dark corner in the back of the stall.

  It always surprised me that Harjeet sold his clothing from such an understated premises. But then, those who purchased Harjeet's true services never carried out the transaction here. For all his talents though, Harjeet was a fine tailor. But those clothes fit for Elite were not on display here.

  When I made my way through the over stocked stall to the changing cubicle, I noted my dress for today wasn't off-the-rack either. I stared at the fine material, the perfect stitching, the hidden pockets, and delicate crystals adorning the dress' décolletage and matching bolero jacket's lapels, and wondered if I could actually do this. Return to that world, albeit disguised as a different person, an Honourable, but not Honourable Selena Carstairs. Even if only for one afternoon.

  I hadn't realised I'd changed that much. I hadn't realised there'd come a time when going back was so damn hard. I'd been born Elite. Raised Elite. But with caveats. Now I was neither Elite nor Citizen. I was something else.

  I moved the outfit aside, noted there were complementing heels to wear and an expensive loo
king handbag that would store my equipment inside. And found the real tool I'd need to carry this off. Contact lenses, that when worn would have me iRec-ing as someone else. Someone the Overseers weren't after.

  Someone Wang Chao didn't know.

  I sucked in a deep breath and then began to dress. Each item of clothing was like adding a layer of protection over my skin. Changing me more than just physically. Inside my mind I donned the Elite persona I would need to possess, to own, if I wanted to carry this off. Earrings were in the fitted jacket pockets, as well as a diamond necklace, not quite as ornate as the one Harjeet had me wear to the celebration ball, but significant enough to show my status.

  I smoothed the navy and cream made-to-measure outfit down, feeling the luxuriant fabric under my clammy hands.

  I pulled on the silk stockings, attaching them to a garter belt, slipping my feet into the thousand dollar shoes with practised ease.

  I swept some understated make-up on my cheeks, outlined my pale blue eyes with dramatic kohl, added a shimmering lipstick to finish.

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, then reached down and picked up the contacts, slipping each one in place and blinking back the tears.

  My hair was next and Harjeet hadn't failed to provide suitable attire. A high-end wig sat carefully packaged in a hat box to the side. Dark brown, long and straight strands, perfectly model in every way, other than the fact it was false.

  My skin seemed paler than usual with the new shade of hair. My eyes were now dark blue to match my dress, but still, somehow, mine. I stood before an elegant woman, one I would have been perfectly at ease imitating in my former life.

  But one who was as foreign to me now as those people I knew walked the streets of Lunnon in Trent's poster, somewhere in a part of the world I could only dream of as being free.

  I stared for so long the old man in front of Harjeet's stall called out his usual two word statement, "You wear?" This time in question.

  I sucked in a deep breath, took one final look at the stranger in the mirror, and then stepped out of the cubicle and into over-populated, over-heated Little D'awa.