Programmed To Please (The Tau Cetus Chronicles)

by Jenna Ives

  Frankly, after Theus’s visit yesterday, it had taken all of Marque’s control this morning to look at each man seated around the conference table without giving them an accusatory glare. He’d been glad when the meeting had finally adjourned.

  Talesin blew out a breath, and Marque glanced down at his assistant’s haggard face. Besides Bursus, Talesin was the only man in this world Marque trusted completely. He’d given his assistant a job that had undoubtedly taken most of the night, but which had obviously been successful. “I’m sure I’m not going to like it. No matter who the thief is. Someone from our inner circle – someone I thought I could trust – has betrayed us.”

  Talesin swallowed, obviously reacting to the dangerous scowl on Marque’s face. “His actions were recorded. He can’t deny it.”

  “Who is it?”

  The name Talesin spoke was not a surprise to Marque. He’d had his suspicions, after all, even given the betrayer an assignment designed to prove his innocence. Still, it felt like a punch to the gut. He closed his eyes briefly while trying to compose himself. “You have the proof with you?”

  Talesin handed Marque a disc.

  “Get him up here.”

  Talesin hesitated, and then glanced at Marque’s bodyguard. “Should we send Bursus for him?”

  Marque shook his head. “No. That might tip our hand. Just tell him I need to see him in my office. Bursus and I will wait in there.”

  Talesin reached for a button on his desk, but Marque stopped him.

  “On second thought, give me five minutes. I want to see this evidence for myself first.”

  Talesin nodded. “What you’re looking for is at 28-minutes in.”

  With a resigned sigh, Marque turned and headed to his office, followed closely by Bursus. Popping the disc into a player on the console next to his desk, Marque settled into his chair, grabbed a remote, and forwarded to time code 28:00.

  There he was, the traitor on the monitor, plain as day – or rather, night, since just the auxiliary lights were on in the manufacturing plant. Still, it was easy to make out the image of Chavis Smith slipping two stinger missiles from the loading dock into a long duffel bag. With a weight of just twelve pounds each, the missiles would have been easy for him to conceal and to carry away.

  Marque stopped the disc.

  “You knew about him?” Bursus asked.

  Marque shrugged. “I had my suspicions. That’s why when Chavis offered to get to the bottom of the missing missiles during Wednesday’s production meeting, I agreed. It was a test, of sorts.”

  “Bastard,” Bursus mumbled. “How do you want to deal with this?”

  “Well, we’ll have to turn him over to the Council, obviously. Let’s just hope he doesn’t put up too much of a fight.”

  “Why? I’d love an excuse to pound him to a pulp.”

  Marque grimaced. “He’s still my brother-in-law.”

  Two minutes later, Chavis poked his head around Marque’s office door, a broad smile on his face. “You called, Marque?”

  Marque rose from behind his desk, the remote still in his hand. “Yes. Come in.”

  As Chavis stepped into the room, Bursus moved to stand in the doorway, blocking any exit.

  Chavis didn’t seem to notice. Or, if he did, he knew it was common enough for Bursus to be on guard duty. He obviously didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary.

  Marque crossed his arms over his chest and got right to the point. “I know it was you who stole the wasp missiles, Chavis.”

  His brother-in-law’s eyebrows reached his hairline. The look of surprised innocence on his face was almost believable. “What are you talking about?”

  “You stole the wasps, and now you’ve stolen the stingers.”

  Chavis took a small step back. “What? You’re out of your mind, Marque.”

  Marque simply stared at him.

  The innocent expression on Chavis’s face faltered. “Come on, Marque, this isn’t funny.”

  “I’m not joking. I know you stole those missiles.”

  “I did not. And you can’t prove otherwise.”

  “Wrong,” Marque contradicted. “I have the evidence on disc.”

  Chavis’s eyes narrowed. “Impossible! I’ve been through all of the security discs with Rekos, trying to track down the real fucker myself. I told you I’d take care of this, Marque. Unfortunately, there’s no sign of the thief on the recordings.”

  Marque smiled dangerously. “Of course not. That’s because you jerry-rigged them, looping a static overnight shot of the production room floor and the loading docks.” How else would the regular security cameras not have picked up Chavis’s actions? “Do you think I didn’t install extra cameras after the wasps went missing? Cameras that no one knew about but me?”

  Chavis hesitated, then set his mouth in a mulish line. “I don’t believe you.”

  With a sigh, Marque hit a button on the remote in his hand, and pointed it toward the monitor. Chavis’s betrayal was replayed again.

  The color drained from his brother-in-law’s face. Chavis quickly changed tactics, trying a self-deprecating smile and a placating tone. “Come on, Marque. Listen, buddy. What are two small missiles in the grand scheme of things? They won’t even affect your bottom line.”

  Marque said nothing. No one employed by Callex Industries – except Bursus and Tallesin – knew the company was actually a front for the government, and that Marque was not a capitalistic arms dealer. The missing missiles had nothing to do with lost profit.

  Getting no response and starting to sweat, Chavis tried another tack. “You don’t know what I’ve done for you, Marque!” he whined.

  Marque raised a dubious eyebrow. “Really? And just what have you done for me?”

  “I recently uncovered a spy in our midst, sent to infiltrate us from Tau Cetus’s police force. I… took care… of him for you.”

  “What?” Marque froze. “The police sent— Who was this…spy?”

  “His name was Joran Breaux.”

  Shit. Marque had had his own suspicions about Breaux, and had been scheduled to meet with the man one day last month. But he’d never shown up.

  Fucking hell…

  So Chavis was guilty of murder as well as theft. The High Council would show him no mercy. And the poor bastard didn’t even know yet whom he’d really betrayed. “You’re in deep shit, Chavis. What was worth this risk? Why did you do it?”

  Obviously realizing that neither his cajoling nor his wheedling was working, Chavis sneered. “You want to know why? Are you really that dense, Marque? It’s Leora.”

  Marque took a sharp breath. He hadn’t honestly expected Chavis to give him a reason for his treachery, but this? “My sister? My sister is the reason you’re selling weapons?”

  “Do you have any idea what she costs, Marque? Christ, the security alone—”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Marque shouted, losing his notorious calm. “I pay for her security detail. Leora has more security than I do!”

  “And do you know how much she hates you for that?” Chavis shouted back. “For making her life a prison? A gilded cage? It’s all she talks about. She lashes out at you by spending a bloody fortune.” Chavis grimaced. “Shit. I married her for the power and prestige I thought being related to you would bring me, but Leora is more than I can handle. You’ve made her life a misery, and she’s made mine one. I can only seem to keep her happy with cash. Lots of it. So I had to get creative.”

  For a moment, Marque was speechless.

  When his parents had been killed two decades ago in the Great War, Marque had been a boy of twelve, left alone to care for his eight-year-old sister. He’d been overprotective of Leora then, and he definitely was now, albeit for different reasons. Back then she’d been a vulnerable young girl, but now Marque was the High Council’s personal weapons conduit – and a potential target of every power-hungry egomaniac on Tau Cetus – so these days Marque was still doing his best to keep his sister safe
. But despite his good intentions, it seemed that what he considered caring she considered controlling.

  “What do you say, Marque?” Chavis cooed. “No harm done, right? Your net worth won’t be affected by the loss of two tiny missiles. How about if I promise to come directly to you next time Leora needs money? We’ll keep this just between us guys. It’s important that your sister is happy, right?”

  Marque’s jaw tightened. Chavis was responsible for the deaths of Joran Breaux, Regulator Florens Hericus, and who knew how many others as a result of the two stingers he’d just sold. Plus, he’d upset the balance of power in Terra Domus, a dangerous move that might threaten all of Tau Cetus. No harm done?

  Hardly.

  But Chavis wouldn’t look at it that way. He – and almost everyone else on Tau Cetus – believed Marque randomly sold weapons for profit, just as Chavis had done.

  “Who did you sell the missiles to?”

  “What?”

  “I said who did you sell those missiles to?”

  Chavis frowned. He seemed to be silently debating whether he’d be in more trouble with Marque or with his buyer if he revealed that particular bit of information. “It doesn’t matter now, does it, Marque?” he rationalized. “I promised to come to you next time I need money.”

  Marque blew out a breath. Frankly, he didn’t care anymore who had bought the stingers. The High Council would undoubtedly get that information out of Chavis, through force if necessary. Marque didn’t need any more blood on his hands than was there already. “You’ll have to pay for this, Chavis. Bursus?”

  The bodyguard immediately came over to wrap an iron hand around Chavis’s upper arm. “Come with me.”

  “What? No!” There was a confused look on Chavis’s face as Bursus steered him firmly toward the door of Marque’s office. “Marque. Come on, man, let’s talk about this. What will Leora say? She loves me! She’ll hate you for this even more than she already does. Marque!”

  “Wait.” Marque’s hard command stopped Bursus in his tracks.

  She loves me. Those were the only possible words Chavis could have spoken that would make Marque reconsider his decision to turn him immediately over to the High Council.

  She loves me.

  Was that true? Could his sister really be in love with this deceitful, lying thief? If so, could Marque do something that would make Leora’s life even more miserable than he’d obviously already made it? Marque had asked for this life, but she hadn’t.

  Marque had a duty to the High Council, true, but he also had a duty to family.

  Shit…

  “Boss?” An obviously surprised Bursus was waiting for Marque’s next command.

  Marque strode over to where his bodyguard still held Chavis in an iron grip. He stuck the remote under his brother-in-law’s chin, forcing his gaze up.

  “Do you swear that you’ll come to me next time you need money?”

  The relief on Chavis’s face was palpable. “I swear it, Marque.”

  “And that you’ll treat my sister with the respect she deserves?”

  “Yes, yes. I promise. I’ll treat her like the precious gem she is.”

  “If you run,” Marque threatened, “Bursus will hunt you down like a bloodhound. There will be no second chances.”

  Obviously knowing Marque’s deadly reputation, Chavis swallowed hard. “I won’t run. I’m committed to Callex Industries. I swear it.”

  Marque paused, considering. Then he glanced at Bursus. “Let him go.”

  Bursus hesitated, and then released his grip on Chavis’s arm.

  “Thank you, Marque. Thank you,” Chavis groveled. “You won’t regret this.” Then he sprinted out of Marque’s office so quickly he was a mere blur heading down the hallway.

  “Boss?” The look of confusion on Bursus’s face matched the one on Talesin’s, who came to stand in Marque’s office doorway, one eyebrow raised.

  Marque sighed. “I have to talk to my sister before I make a final decision on what to do about Chavis. In the meantime, I’m certain he won’t skip town. He’s conceited enough to think he just convinced me to overlook what he considers a… minor indiscretion.” He glanced at his antique watch. “I need to get to Beautiful Dolls.”

  Yes. With his world in upheaval, what Marque needed right now was the comfort of the only woman in his life he could trust.

  #

  “I suggest you try the sex toys on her today, Callex.”

  Marque looked at Anson Carron, who was standing in his usual place behind the concierge desk at the Beautiful Dolls boudoir, with the ever-present assistant Leigh Wyatt hovering at his side. Marque was still mentally grappling over how to handle this situation with Chavis, and wasn’t sure he’d heard Carron correctly. “What?”

  “The sex toys,” Carron repeated. “The Doll is programmed to respond well to them. This might be your last chance to try them. Tomorrow your week here is up.”

  Fuck. The last thing Marque needed was Anson Carron telling him how to make use of his own sexbot. Marque was very satisfied with his relationship with J as it was.

  So satisfied, in fact…

  “That reminds me,” he said. “You and I need to discuss something tomorrow.”

  Carron bowed his head slightly. “As you wish.”

  Marque glanced around. “But there is one question you can answer for me now…”

  “Yes?”

  “Why do I always seem to be the only one here?”

  “You’re not,” Carron answered smoothly. “I simply stagger the arrival time of our clients in order to insure maximum privacy. The rooms are soundproofed, as you know. So that might be why you feel like you’re alone. But I assure you all the rooms are full.”

  Marque frowned. He supposed Carron’s answer made sense, both from a privacy as well as a business sense. But something still bothered him. He turned to Bursus.

  “Have you ever seen anyone leave here while you’ve been waiting for me?”

  His bodyguard shook his head.

  Carron’s facial expression never faltered. “That’s for two reasons. The first is that you’ve never spent your full allotted hour here until yesterday. The other is that some of our…guests…like to book for a longer session.” Carron winked suggestively, and then waved a hand toward the half-dozen doors leading off this main reception area. “Would you like to open a door and see for yourself?”

  Marque’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Open one of the doors? No way. He knew how he’d feel if someone unexpectedly walked in on his session with J. Not that Bursus would ever allow that to happen. What he and J did in her room together was… private. As everyone’s session should be. “No. That’s fine.”

  Carron bowed his head obsequiously.

  The oily bastard. Anson Carron really rubbed Marque the wrong way.

  Carron waved a hand toward J’s door. “Enjoy today’s session.”

  Marque frowned at him, and then turned to head for J’s room. Bursus took his usual seat in a chair by the doorway.

  Turning the door handle, Marque silently let himself into the room. J was in her usual position, in a wooden chair near the bed, eyes closed, obviously in hibernation mode. He paused for a moment to admire what he saw. Her clever mouth, her perfect body. He wondered if he could do something about that blonde hair before he took her home, though. Blonde-haired women had never been his type.

  Christ, she was always so still while in hibernation mode! It really was quite unnerving. But why the chair? When he got her home, would he have to provide a chair for her to hibernate? It would certainly be no problem, but why didn’t she just stand? She was a machine. It wasn’t like she’d get tired. Or maybe it was just more lifelike if she sat? Hmm. He’d have to ask Carron about that when he bought her tomorrow.

  In fact, he’d have to ask Carron a lot of questions tomorrow about the upkeep of a Beautiful Doll.

  He closed the door and took four steps across the room to stand in front of her. “Hello, J.”

 
; On cue, her eyes slowly opened. She looked up at him and smiled broadly. “Hello, Marque.”

  God, he loved that smile, the way her face lit up at seeing him, the way she always drew out the word hello in a slow purr, as if it were a blatant sexual invitation.

  He also loved the sense of power that his own voice had over her. Because when he said Hello, J, it meant wake up, my Beautiful Doll.

  He sighed contentedly. Damn, he really needed to be here right now. What would they do together today?

  Marque glanced briefly over her shoulder at the delicate rice paper shoji screen a few feet behind her, Anson Carron’s words coming back to him.

  … try the sex toys on her…

  Hmm. He remembered a brief glimpse of the toys on his first day here, but frankly, his focus then had been more on the technological miracle of J herself.

  He took a quick step around her, moving over to the screen, sliding it silently on its track to reveal the sex aids on the wall behind. His gaze took in the offerings.

  All the usual. Blindfold, handcuffs, gag ball, whip, paddle, slave collar, rope, and a bunch of other things. His gaze strayed back to the paddle. Would J’s beautiful rear cheeks pinken nicely like a human’s if he used a paddle on her? Would he be able to soothe away the pain with his hand, like he would with a human woman?

  Idiot. There would be no pain. J was a machine.

  There I go again, endowing her with human feelings.

  But more to the point, why did the idea of sexual punishment not even tempt him?

  He knew exactly why.

  “Are we going to…play…today, Marque?”

  Marque turned to face her. J had twisted around in her chair to see where he’d gone. He frowned. Had he just heard a hint of nervousness in her voice, of trepidation? No. He must have imagined it. After all, Carron had said she was programmed to respond well to the toys.

  He blew out a rough breath, and massaged the back of his neck with one hand. Edgy, kinky, or painful sex was not the reason he was here. “No, J. No sex toys. My life is dangerous enough. I want to be safe. I feel safe with you. I deal in weapons of war, but I just want some peace.”