by Pegau, Cathy
“The craving for sweets should diminish over time,” she said, finishing the treat. “The toxbots need the fuel, but they’re short-lived, so I shouldn’t have to feed them much longer.”
When Sasha was brought in three days ago, the medicos had to improvise a counter-measure against Christiansen’s new amber formula. The standard antidote was ineffective unless given within thirty minutes of ingestion, anyway, and it had no impact on the amber coursing through Sasha’s system. A shot of nanos designed to cleanse the blood and tissues in cases of extreme heavy-metal toxicity seemed to be working, but the bugs required an increase in available fuel or they’d start eating away at the patient’s body.
On the plus side, it gave the medicos another avenue to explore for amber counter-measures. When other manufacturers started changing the formula, and Sterling had no doubt they would, the medicos would need all the help they could get to keep up.
“How was your visit with Jules?”
Sasha bit into a second cake. She swallowed and said, “Very nice. Thank you for getting her on the approved list. I told her she should take my job at the market.”
Sterling felt his eyebrows stretch toward his hairline. “Think she’ll do it?”
“Doubtful. She likes to dance too much. But she’s grateful you were able to get her out of the halfway house and into a better flat.” Sasha leaned toward him and placed a light kiss on his mouth. She tasted like honey. “And so am I. Thank you. Again.”
He gave her fingers a squeeze. “I should do these good deeds more often.”
Sasha laughed, and he smiled. God, she was gorgeous when her eyes lit up like that. Making her happy filled him with a contentment he’d never felt before.
“How’s Kylie?”
“Getting better,” Sterling said. He had tried to get Sasha admitted to the same private facility his sister attended, but her parole status forced her to come here. Sasha didn’t seem nearly as perturbed by it as he was. “I spoke to her this afternoon. She sends her love.”
Sasha waved the cake at him. “Send her a box of these from me.” She popped the last bit into her mouth.
Someone knocked on the door then entered without waiting for a response. Still seated, Sterling turned. A harried-looking woman in white scrubs, carrying a handheld, let the door swing shut behind her. “Miss James.” She frowned at Sterling. “Agent Sterling.”
He nodded as she approached the bed. “Doctor Clark.”
Sasha’s fingers tensed and grew cold in his hand. She’d said the concentration of amber in her system was dropping. Was there something else going on that she wasn’t telling him?
Clark stood on the other side of the bed and consulted her comm. “The amber in your system is nearly gone, so we’ll discontinue the toxbot treatment. But...” At her hesitation, Sasha’s hand closed around his. “The nanos generated and maintained by your offender chip are either defective or damaged. It needs to be replaced.”
Sterling felt her fingernails dig into his flesh. “Replaced?” She turned fear-filled eyes on him. “Nathan?”
Before he could offer any words of comfort, Clark tapped her handheld, oblivious to the emotions of her patient. “You’re to report to the Corrections building within a week of your release for rechipping. If you fail to report, a warrant will be issued for your arrest and incarceration.” She gazed down at the screen. “Huh. I guess your Level Two parole status allows a certain amount of trust, or they would have held you here until they were ready to come by and get you themselves.” Clark shrugged and tapped again. “You’ll be given complete instructions when you’re discharged tomorrow. Have a good evening.”
With barely a glance at either of them, the doctor turned on her heel and left.
Sterling and Sasha stared at the door as it slowly swung closed. In his hand, her fingers trembled. She swallowed several times. When she looked up at him, her eyes were wide with dread, the dark circles under them like bruised fruit. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.
His heart dropped. He’d promised to get her chip deactivated, and he wasn’t about to break that promise. Leaning forward, he kissed the corner of one eye then the next, tasting the salt of her tears.
“I’ll take care of it.”
* * *
Two days after her discharge, Sasha and Nathan entered the front doors of the building shared by the Colonial Departments of Justice and Corrections in the heart of Pandalus. Narrow panels flanking the door housed the security scanner every visitor was required to pass through. Two human guards stood nearby, with their hands resting casually on the butts of their pulsers.
Nathan held up his CMA ID to the reader and the guards. The reader beeped acceptance. The guards nodded. Sasha had her ID in hand, but before she could hold it up, the scanner beeped. Like the door at the halfway house, it had read the chip in her neck. One guard nodded again, but there was a glint of wariness in his eyes.
She put her ID away. Did the scanner say she was supposed to get rechipped? Or did they always act so suspicious of parolees?
“Nathan,” she whispered as he led her away. She half expected the guards to call to them, to stop them and drag her back to the NCRC.
“It’s all right.” He placed his left hand at the small of her back to guide her to the bank of elevators. He always treated her with genteel manners befitting the son of Revivalist ranchers. It was something she was happily getting used to and hoped she could continue to enjoy for a while.
He swiped his ID over the panel beside the elevator, and the door opened. Several other people entered the car behind them. Nathan tapped floor icons as they were called out.
Standing side by side, he laid his left arm around her shoulder, leaned closer and whispered, “Ready?”
Sasha smiled and whispered back, “I’ve been ready for over four years.”
The elevator stopped at the third floor and they made their way out. Justice and Corrections employees passed them in the hall, barely acknowledging the existence of the couple walking together. Nathan turned down a side hall and stopped at a door marked Offender ID Tech Support.
Sasha practically vibrated with nervous tension. What if the tech couldn’t deactivate it? What if something went wrong and the nanos fried her brain or killed her?
“Here we go.” He grinned at her, knocked twice and opened the door.
Behind a high table, a dark-haired man in his early forties sat surrounded by bits and pieces of electronic debris. He tapped a handheld while reading the screen of a device on the table. Nathan closed the door behind them and cleared his throat. The man looked up, smiled.
“Hey there, Sterling. Glad to see you aren’t dead.”
Nathan reached across the table and shook the man’s hand with his left. “That makes two of us.”
“Three of us,” Sasha added.
The tech laughed. “You must be Sasha. I’m Mickelson. Nice job taking out Christiansen.”
Sasha’s smile faltered. She didn’t feel bad about killing Guy, not really, but it wasn’t something she wanted praise for either. “He was going to kill Nathan.”
“He wasn’t the first one to try, and probably won’t be the last.” He looked at Nathan. “Natalia told me you managed to shut down Christiansen’s operation in damn near one afternoon. How did you do something the entire Department couldn’t for the past seven years?”
“Just lucky, I guess.” Nathan shrugged, nonchalant.
He’d told Sasha of Kylie being dropped off by Genevieve Caine—who promptly vanished, as far as anyone could tell—and Natalia rounding up Justice Department agents to swarm the warehouse. That branch of Christiansen’s operation was finished. Kilos of drugs had been confiscated, and the warehouse grounds and electronics were being scrutinized. There was talk of keeping Christiansen’s death hushed, starting a rumor that he’d gone
into hiding so the JD could take over as a front for sting operations. Having a foothold in the amber trade would be a huge advantage for the department.
The unintended success of his unauthorized mission didn’t, however, preclude Nathan from the wrath of his superiors, even with the visual evidence he’d collected in his eye’s recorder. An official reprimand was placed in his personnel file at the CMA. He was put on a month’s probation, coinciding with paid medical leave, and required to review and sign a copy of the CMA’s policy on interagency operations. He’d face an Internal Affairs review board in three weeks. It was still a very real possibility that he’d lose his job.
Sasha’s role was kept to a minimum. Just enough to be seen as a positive action in the eyes of the Corrections board and not require a parole status downgrade or re-incarceration.
When Sasha had expressed concern that he’d risked his career as well as his life, he had shrugged, said something about people he cared about being more important to him than any damn job, then made love to her. Carefully and creatively, as their right arms were less than useful.
Sasha found herself grinning and her body warming at the memory while Mickelson rummaged around in one of the drawers beneath the table.
Her white knight. Who would have thought?
“So, let’s get this taken care of,” Mickelson said as he pulled out a tool kit. “Have a seat on the stool there.”
Nathan took her coat and she sat.
While Mickelson checked his kit, she asked, “Are you the only one here?”
“Pretty much,” he said. “I float from department to department. Go where they need me. Budget cuts are a bitch. The other tech is out doing field tests for me. Figured we wouldn’t want her around.”
Nathan laid his hand on her knee. “He’s the best in the business and a friend. You’re in good hands.”
“Ah! Here it is.” Mickelson came around and set his tool kit and a sealed red and white plastic packet on the table behind him. “Now, just turn your head to the right. A little more. There. Stay still. This will be over in a minute.”
Sasha breathed slow and deep in an effort to keep still. Nathan’s hand slipped into hers. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. The angle of her head made it impossible to see what Mickelson was doing.
“Just a little sting.” It felt like some big bug had taken a chunk out of the left side of her neck, and Sasha hissed in pain. “Sorry,” he said. “Your neck will numb up in a moment.”
Sensation diminished then disappeared, and Sasha had difficulty swallowing. Pressure against her neck, a series of clicks and whines. Though there was no pain, he stretched the skin of her neck smooth and manipulated another tool. Daubed at the site. More pressure.
“There you go,” Mickelson said with triumph in his voice. “A beauty, I must say.”
Sasha turned to him. Mickelson held a pair of forceps. Secured between the thin tips was a blue and white sliver the size of a fat grain of rice.
An NCRC offender status chip.
Her status chip.
Her hand went to the left side of her neck. She felt the cool stickiness of the liquid bandage he’d applied as it set. Sasha stared at him in disbelief. “You removed it?”
“I did.”
“I—I thought you were only going to deactivate it.”
“I did that first, so you wouldn’t die when I went in,” Mickelson said with a grin. “The anti-tampering ’bots were still functioning, but the inhibitors that quelled the physical cravings for amber were pretty much shot.”
That wasn’t possible. She’d needed the ’bots to stay clean, to resist the amber in Kylie’s blue marble box. Hadn’t she?
“You mean, nothing’s been keeping me from wanting amber since we were at The Morrissey?” She stared at the tech, looking for any sign he was joking.
“Just your own determination,” Nathan said.
The pride in his voice made her chest tight. She kept looking at Mickelson so Nathan wouldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes.
“I would have had to deactivate and remove it anyway,” Mickelson continued. “I just tweaked what the order originally called for.” He shrugged. “As far as Corrections is concerned, you’ve been approved for permanent deactivation, not rechipping. We’ll just ‘forget’ to give you a new chip. Your NCRC ID will be conveniently lost in the system. I can’t completely erase it, but anyone querying the department databases will get redirected to a zero search results screen, as if you’ve never been remanded.”
Nathan squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to him. “You deserve to have your life back, Sasha, without anyone or anything hanging over your shoulder.”
A flurry of emotion overwhelmed her. Relief. Gratitude. She threw herself into his arms, and he grunted as he caught her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought him closer for a long, deep kiss that made her head swim.
Free. She was free. Free to do whatever she wanted, wherever she wanted. With whomever she wanted.
Sasha buried her face in Nathan’s neck, taking in his earthy scent and dampening his collar with the tears she couldn’t contain any longer. “Thank you,” she whispered. “This is more than I expected.”
“But no less than you deserve.” He eased her away to look into her eyes and caress her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You did something you knew would be difficult, that risked your life, to help me get Kylie back. I’m grateful, but more than that, I’m awed by your strength and compassion.” He touched his lips to hers. “And I can’t imagine my life without you. Stay. Please, Sasha. Stay with me.”
He wanted to be with her.
A man like Nathan Sterling wanted a woman like her.
And why the hell not? She deserved to live a normal life with a man who truly cared for her, a man she’d do anything for in a heartbeat, no matter how many times he asked. He knew what she could be; it was high time she started believing it herself.
“Just try to get rid of me,” she said, and kissed him again.
When they broke the kiss, Nathan smiled at her. He had the best smile in the ’Verse.
He turned to the tech. “I owe you one.”
Mickelson waved his hand in dismissal. “Sure. Though if you can get me a date with Natalia, we’ll call it even.”
Nathan chuckled. “I’ll check, but I don’t think you’re Natalia’s type.” He took the forceps from Mickelson and handed them to Sasha. “You get the honors.”
She laid the chip on the table and Mickelson held out a small metal hammer. It was heavier than it looked. Nathan nodded once.
Sasha smiled then swung the hammer until all that remained of the chip was the tiniest bits of plastic and dust.
* * * * *
Step into a futuristic world of high stakes
and sizzling romance…
Break every rule with author Cathy Pegau.
Liv Braxton’s Felon Rule #1:
Don’t get emotionally involved.
Smash-and-grab thieving doesn’t lend itself to getting chummy with the victims, and Liv hasn’t met anyone on the mining colony of Nevarro worth knowing, anyway. So it’s easy to follow her Rules.
Until Zia Talbot, the woman she’s supposed to deceive, turns Liv’s expectations upside down in a way no woman ever has.
Rulebreaker
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About the Author
Cathy Pegau’s muse always finds some sort of science-fiction, fantasy or paranormal bend to the stories it offers. A self-proclaimed scienc
e geek, she studied wildlife biology at universities in North Dakota and Alaska. As an enthusiastic student, she spent summers aboard a research vessel scooping muck from the ocean floor and winters cataloguing the critters there to see what gray whales were eating. One of her first biology jobs found her trundling across the Wyoming prairie—and avoiding rattlesnakes—for a black-footed ferret reintroduction program. She hooted for spotted owls in Southern Oregon and got lost overnight the first week. But that’s another story.
Now, she lives in Alaska with her husband and kids, several pets and the occasional black bear that roams through the yard.
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ISBN: 978-14268-9498-5
Copyright © 2013 by Catherine Pegau
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
