by Cara Bristol
He should cut her some slack. She might have saved the president’s life! The blaster had been set to stun so Mikala only would have been temporarily paralyzed like she had been, but still. An Aym-Sec security guard would be getting a commendation instead of a reprimand. He wouldn’t listen to her explanation! She hadn’t intended to throw herself in front of Mikala, but she’d panicked, her feet somehow had gotten all confused, and she’d stumbled in the wrong direction.
She risked a glance at his face.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He grabbed her and kissed her.
Chapter Thirteen
Self-control snapped. Carter hauled Beth against his chest and crushed her lips under his. She stiffened, but then melted against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He plunged his tongue inside her mouth and kissed her in an explosion of pent-up longing and fear. He could have lost her.
Seeing her throw herself between Cornelius and Mikala had scared him like nothing else ever had. What had the little fool been thinking? Cornelius had shot her, she’d gone down, and the bottom had fallen out of his world.
He tangled his hands in her hair, winding the strands around his fist, and plundered her softness, punishing and coaxing at the same time. She had to understand the danger and obey the rules. She was no bodyguard. If Mikala had been assassinated, that would have been a tragedy, but if Beth had been killed, his life wouldn’t have been worth living.
She moaned against his mouth, and he eased the pressure, sliding his tongue against hers. So good. So good. So sweet. She tasted like vanilla spice and all the warmth and loving he’d been denied since he founded Cyber Operations. He had to stop doing this. Put her away from him. Apologize. Repair the breach. He’d never overstepped his authority before.
No one had ever scared him the way she had—or attracted him the way she did. There. He’d admitted it. He’d been fighting his feelings, refusing to accept the truth. At first, he tried to convince himself her resemblance to Liza had stirred old feelings, except he’d never felt this strongly about his ex-girlfriend. Kissing Beth was inappropriate, unprofessional, good.
He grabbed her wrists, but instead of pushing her away, he caressed her soft skin with his thumbs. She sighed against his mouth, nibbled on his lower lip, and it hit him.
She’s kissing me back.
Well, of course, she had been. Except, she really was. She kissed him like she desired him, needed him as much as he needed her. His racing heart thudded harder. He drew back and sought her gaze. Her eyelids fluttered open. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“That depends,” she said.
“On what?” he asked hesitantly.
“Are you done yelling at me?”
He’d hardly gotten started. He wanted to shake her. Lock her in the brig, fire her. Kiss her until she promised to never scare him again, and then take her to bed— “I can be done. If you understand…”
“I understand.”
“Tell me.”
She wet her lips. He bit back a groan.
“Do my job and don’t do anything stupid,” she said.
“For starters.” He nodded.
“There is something I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“Why you kissed me. You never hinted you felt that way.”
Hadn’t he? He’d thought he’d given himself away dozens of times. “You work for me. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It’s a complete breach of professional ethics.”
“Don’t ruin it now!” she chided.
Despite his regret, he laughed, lightness filling him, making him feel freer, younger than he had in years. He was only thirty-eight, but worry over the worsening situation in the galaxy made him feel ancient.
A wise man once had said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” He’d followed that path to found Cyber Operations, but it came with no guarantee of success. That so many men and women risked their lives for his mission humbled him. He asked the impossible, and they gave it—every single time. He hadn’t lost many cyborgs, but he’d lost some, and he’d felt every death as a body blow.
Field agents and Aym-Sec officers understood and accepted the risks. Beth didn’t. He should fire her. Call in a marker and get her employment someplace else. Someplace safe. Maybe she could work at an information retrieval center.
To send her away where he couldn’t keep an eye on her, couldn’t see her, would be nearly unbearable. He witnessed so much misery, pain, corruption, destruction. She was his lifeline to normalcy and goodness.
Other cyber operatives had wives…Brock, March Fellows, Kai Andros…a few others. And, he was getting way ahead of himself.
He kissed her hungrily. She twined herself around him, her ardor as great as his. Their teeth clicked, and they shared a smile. How many little intimacies had he missed in his life? Too many to count. The sexbots at the Darius 4 Pleasure Resort eased the body’s ache, but not the emotional void. He hugged her against his chest, tempering his cyborg strength so he didn’t crush her. He could hurt her in more ways than one.
So much needed to be said.
He broke off the kiss to rest his forehead against hers. He sighed.
“Uh oh. That didn’t sound good,” she said lightly, but he could feel her heart racing.
He opened his eyes. “I should…fire you,” he said.
Her heart hammered against his chest. “I won’t get in the way again, I promise...”
He stepped back so he could think. “It’s not just that.” He raked both hands through his hair.
“What then? What else did I do?”
“It’s what I’m doing. You work for me. I’m your boss.”
“Technically, I report to Brock Mann.”
“On a routine basis, yes. On certain special projects like the Summit, you’ll work with me. If we are getting involved…”
“We’re involved?” A smile curved her mouth, and his control of the situation began to slip away. If he’d ever had it to begin with.
“If we were to pursue…this…you’d still have to take orders from me.”
“Work orders,” she clarified.
“Yes, work orders. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir,” she said with a grin.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’re imagining problems where none exist.”
“It’s my job to predict problems.”
She tilted her chin. A little of the light in her eyes had dimmed. “So you consider me a problem?”
Yes. But not in the way she probably thought. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
Damn, she was tenacious. “There is a lot about me you don’t know.”
He’d acquired friends and allies, but also fierce enemies who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt someone he loved to get back at him. Cyber Operations didn’t get involved when things were going right, Cy-Ops moved in when all other efforts had failed. Even Aym-Sec could be dangerous. To wit—Luna Center. Association with him could be hazardous to one’s personal safety.
He slipped between light and shadow, part public figure, part ghost. Cy-Ops, the heart and mind of his mission to protect the galaxy, operated under deep cover. There was very little about his mission or life he could share with a partner—not even one who worked for him.
She tilted her head. “So, tell me then. Fill me in.”
His physical modifications were classified. As a clone, a product of science, she might not care he was a cyborg, but he couldn’t be certain. Though bioengineered, she was still 100 percent human, unlike him. He existed as part man, part computer, part machine. Fifty-five percent human, but 45 percent other. She deserved to know who—what—she was getting involved with.
Involved? They’d kissed once or twice.
Okay, several resolve-weakening kisses. He had to make decisions based
on sound judgment and not friendship, sympathy, concern, or lust. They said it was lonely at the top. That wasn’t quite true; he shared a bond and camaraderie with his cyborg force. Yet, as director, he could never relax, never let down his guard, because if he did, someone would die. The consequences of every decision had to be weighed and evaluated. If X was even slightly better than Y, then he had to choose X, no matter if his feelings focused on Y.
So, what was the alternative? Call a halt and carry on like nothing had happened? Business as usual? Yeah, that was likely. Neither his human nor cyborg brains would let him forget how she’d felt in his arms. Fire her? He’d already nixed the idea. Give rein to his need, see what developed, and then break it to her he was a cyborg? Oh, that sounded like a good idea. People loved having surprises sprung on them when they should have been told the truth at the beginning.
She deserved honesty, but an ingrained reticence and Cy-Ops policy held him back. He couldn’t violate the confidentiality he demanded of his cyborgs. They were barred from revealing the existence of the organization or their own transformation. Only those with top secret clearance and a need-to-know could be informed of either. Secrecy saved lives—of victims and the field agents who rescued them. Secrecy was their edge against Lamani and his terrorist followers.
When the nature of the assignment required her to be informed of Cyber Operations, she would be. He hoped she would forgive the omission. Hoped she could accept him. “I will tell you what I can when I can,” he replied to her comment. At least, the basics. He would never burden another with the atrocities he’d witnessed.
Please trust me. He asked for a lot without offering evidence of trustworthiness. He had learned everything about her; she knew next to nothing about him. More than one Cy-Ops agent had dug into her background. She’d feel violated if she knew how much of her life had been dissected and analyzed.
“I trust you,” she said. “I can wait.”
“Thank you.” Humbled, he vowed to do his damnedest to not let her down.
Her mouth quirked. “Don’t we sound serious and somber.”
“I can fix that.”
“Oh yeah?” Her husky tone issued a seductive challenge.
He tugged her into his arms again, and their lips met with the purest form of satisfaction. Buoyancy, hope, and lightness chased away shadows and doubts. She clung, wrapping herself around him, and his hardening length pressed against her abdomen.
Happiness and desire radiated on her face as she captured his lower lip between her teeth and smiled.
After several more drugging kisses, he gently pushed her away. The urge for completion heated his blood. Nanos were doing the jitterbug, and his cock pressed uncomfortably against his uniform trousers. He wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting a woman, but they’d only just crossed the boundary from professional to personal. It was too soon to move to a physical level. When he took her to bed, the time should be right.
His body insisted the time was right now, but his head overruled the physical demands. He didn’t doubt his feelings—they’d been laid bare when Cornelius had shot her—but they both should process the change in their relationship.
“Let’s sit.” He led her to a sensa-sofa. They sank onto it, and the intelligent material conformed to the shape and weight of their bodies. Kneading fingers pressed into his back and legs. Nice, but he’d much prefer to have Beth’s hands giving the massage. Soon, he vowed, already shortening his self-imposed timeline. He stretched out an arm, and she curled up next to him.
Two Cerinian brandies. He shot a message to the apartment’s controlling AI.
“This is nice,” she murmured.
He could smell traces of her arousal, feel the hammer of her heartbeat. Despite his libido’s insistent thrum, peace suffused him. He wound a strand of her hair around a finger, cybersenses recording the silky texture, the floral scent.
“So where do we go from here?” she asked.
“Depends on you. Is a personal relationship something you’re interested in pursuing?”
She nodded, but then bit her lip.
Was she having doubts about him? “What is it?”
Voice husky, she said, “I like to think I’m intelligent and a quick study. I’ve tried to educate myself and get up to speed, but until this job, I’d never left the O’Shea space station.” She took a breath. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m new to this relationship business. When things progress…I hope I don’t disappoint you.”
“Never.” He chuckled, kissed her head, and hugged her. “When things progress,” he quoted her words, “let nature take its course. Act on what you feel.” He whispered in her ear, “I’ll be right there with you.” She would not, could not disappoint him, but her concern reiterated the importance of not rushing into the bedroom.
A little robo wheeled into the room balancing two crystal shots of Cerinian brandy. It rolled to the sofa, and its mechanical arm presented the liqueurs. Carter took them, the arm retracted, and the robo pivoted and scooted out of sight.
“Drink?” he asked.
“Sure.” She accepted the tiny glass of amber liquid.
“Careful,” he warned. “It’s potent stuff.” His nanocytes would neutralize the alcohol so the brandy wouldn’t intoxicate him, but a couple shots could put an average human out for the count.
They clinked glasses, and Carter knocked back his shot. Beth took a hesitant sip. She started to smile then her eyes widened. Her face flushed red. She fanned herself. “That’s…good,” she croaked and took another sip. “Oh stars!” she gasped.
She finished it off, and the robo wheeled back to recover the glasses.
“Does your apartment always serve you drinks?” she asked.
“It does when I order them,” he replied. “How about dinner? Are you hungry?”
“A little,” she said, and then her stomach growled. “Sorry.” She pressed a hand to her abdomen.
He accessed the AI again and ordered the replicator to prepare a meal. “Do you like chocolate?” he asked. He rarely ate at the apartment, and almost never had dessert, so the replicator had been programmed with only a shortlist.
She twisted her mouth. “You’re asking a woman if she likes chocolate?”
Two chocolate mousse tortes, he instructed the AI.
One issue remained that he wasn’t sure they’d fully settled. He had to make sure she understood. “I’ve never gotten involved with a woman I worked with before.” He had avoided it because of the problematic situation he faced now. “A woman who worked for me,” he amended. How could he put this in a way that wouldn’t offend her?
“I get it,” she said.
“What do you get?”
“Around Aym-Sec, you’re the boss. What you say goes. I wouldn’t expect anything different.”
“Can you shift from being equals outside of work to deferring to me at work? To taking orders?”
“Of course I can. It’s your company. I would never interfere.” She gazed at him. “That’s not a concern for you, is it?”
“No, but I felt it needed to be emphasized.”
“Good.” She relaxed against the sofa. “So, can we talk business for a moment?”
“Aren’t we doing that?”
“I mean about what happened at Luna Center.”
He pressed his lips together. He still couldn’t forget Beth collapsing, going still. “If you want…”
“What was Cornelius’s motive? Did he act on his own, or were there others involved? Why would he merely stun Mikala? He had to realize he’d be caught.”
“You’re asking all the same questions I am,” he admitted. “The autopsy may yield some answers.”
“Do you think it’s possible he worked for Lamani?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“No,” he said. “The one fact we do know for certain is Cornelius is Terran. Lamani hates humans so much, he would never accept them as recruits.” Cy-Ops had tri
ed to plant human spies pretending to be sympathizers. They’d barely escaped with their lives.
“Well, that’s something, I suppose.”
“A big something,” he said.
“At least the shooting got Benson to agree to more stringent security standards,” she pointed out.
“If he follows through,” he said.
“Has he ever reneged?”
“No,” he conceded. To his credit, Vincere held to his word. Carter often disagreed with the secretary general’s decisions, but he couldn’t fault the man’s integrity. He just didn’t like him. He’d shown way too much interest in Beth.
Dinner is served. The house AI messaged him.
“Let’s eat,” he said, grateful for the diversion.
A hover chandelier cast a warm, intimate glow over the dining room, but the robo had arranged one place setting at the head of the table, the other at the foot—miles apart, considering twenty could be seated. They’d have to yell to be heard and would have to crane their necks to see around the towering florogram of exotic blooms centered under the floating lights.
He should have given more precise instructions to the AI, but he’d never eaten at his own dining table before. Carter moved the place settings closer together. “Have a seat.” He pulled out a chair for her.
She stared. “H-how did this happen?”
“What do you mean?”
She waved her hand. “You asked if I liked chocolate, but then this…all the food.”
He’d ordered chicken in a cream sauce, roasted fingerling potatoes, haricot verts, a 2358 vintage pinot grigio, and a chocolate mousse torte, which the house robo would serve later. He didn’t understand what she didn’t understand. “The apartment AI produced it in the replicator,” he said.
“When did you tell the AI? I didn’t see you swipe a screen or hear you give a vocal command.”
Oh crap. He’d fucked-up. So focused on her, he’d acted out of habit and submitted his dinner order via wireless. He straightened already neat placemats. “I, uh, ordered it in advance from the PeeVee,” he lied. “One AI contacted the other AI.” He’d been nowhere near the PeeVee’s control screen. Would she remember? In covert ops, one lied all the time. Nobody could dissemble as well as a cyborg, except he hated fibbing to her, and that made him suck at it.
