by Kim Knox
“I did.” She heard the touch of humour in his voice, though the heavy shadow made it impossible to make out his face. “I got rid of it.”
She shouldn’t be surprised at the speed with which he’d disposed of everything he had invested in the Corporation. Before his life and the company went sideways, his property had been almost priceless.
The back door opened at her touch and Paul moved ahead of her, confident in the darkness. With her fingers trailing the wall, she realised the layout was a mirror of his own house. He flicked on a light switch and a soft glow rolled over the garage. A vehicle squatted on the concrete flooring, bigger than the one in which he had brought her to N-District.
Doors opened and Paul eased his brother into the back, fixing his harness to secure him to the leather seat. He pointed to her. “In.”
He was being a dictator, but she didn’t argue. Time was against them. She scrambled over Liam’s unconscious body and strapped herself in. Paul had already powered up the engine, the doors sinking into place and the craft rising from the floor.
“Ready? Time to go.”
The metal doors peeled back and the vehicle shot forward. Vyn gripped her seat and fought to breathe. What had he strapped to the thing? Whatever it was had to be experimental and butting up to illegal. He turned, heading west. “Where are we going?”
“West.”
Streaks of light and the fading scream of other vehicles caught in their wake shot past her narrow window. The land beneath was a blur of light, the shadow of towers and the glint of the wide River Thames. “Yes, I realised that.”
A smile cracked across his grim mouth. “I planned on somewhere warm, sunny, minimal rainfall. How does that sound?”
His question twisted her insides. The night had been fuelled by fear and confusion, and her body, her mind were hardly her own. “What is this, Paul?”
His hands regripped the wheel, the lights from the dashboard cutting across his frowning face. She’d known him a few hours. He’d known her for a month, watching her, guarding her…wanting her. Had the latter been said in the heat of chaos?
“What are we supposed to be?”
“Vyn.” He bit out her name and swung the vehicle sharply left and up. “Really. Later.”
The force threw her back into the heavy padding of her seat, her bones aching from the pressure. “Saying I don’t want to talk would be easier.”
“Unidentified vehicle, you are violating March-Goodman Corporation airspace. Land. Now. You have ten seconds to comply.”
Paul whipped through and around tower blocks and Vyn crushed her eyes shut, the dizzying rush smacking into her stomach. She focused inwards, trusting him, trusting that he knew how to fly the insanely fast craft.
“Unidentified vehicle, this is your final warning. Respond or we will be forced to open fire.” The male voice was clipped and edged with a hint of anticipation. A downed vehicle would be an instant scapegoat for the destroying of the upper tier.
Sharp bleeping filled the interior, and panic hit her. Paul frowned. “They have missiles locked on.”
“We did the job, we took out the villain—probably put another villain in his place, but still—we get away at this point. It’s the rule.”
“Vyn. You’re babbling.”
She pulled in a long breath. It didn’t help. “I know.”
“I can outmanoeuvre them.” Paul’s mouth twisted into a sharp smile that she didn’t like. “Try not to throw up.” He slammed the vehicle sideways and her stomach flipped over.
“Bastard.”
“Yes, I am.”
Red-faced and sweating, Vyn lost the next few minutes in a gut-churning series of rolls and drops. A missile impacted a thin communications rod, cracking its metal spine. The long screech of the lurching tower ran hot over her skin. Energy sparked the air. She gripped the edge of the seat, digging her nails into the leather, wanting the pain, proving she was alive and not dying in a twisted wreck of fire and metal.
“Hang on.”
The vehicle surged upwards, the acceleration screaming in her muscles. Her vision blurred. She would not pass out. “Are…we going into…orbit?”
“Wouldn’t that be fun.” He veered off and Vyn slammed into her harness, wincing against the fresh burst of pain cutting into her shoulders and chest. But the bleeps were dying away. “Climbing speed and angle. They confused us with a low orbiter shuttle.”
“Good.” Vyn sank back into her seat and stared down at the wide expanse of water far below her. They were over the Irish Sea and beyond the British borders of the Corporation. The chase was over. Somehow they were…free?
She pressed her hand to her mouth, the sudden turmoil of her stomach catching her by surprise. “So.” She swallowed and forced herself to ignore the nasty taste at the back of her throat. “The Caribbean?”
“Yes.”
Vyn closed her eyes. She still had to have the conversation. The excuse of imminent death was gone. “Paul…”
He dug fingers into the back of his neck, rubbing hard. “Not now.” And his tone brooked no argument.
The deepening sourness in her mouth had nothing to do with being churned over in a tin can too many times to count. What was she doing with him? She sank back into the padded leather, damp with her own terrified sweat. Her gaze flicked to Liam, unconscious and leaning. She eased him upright, her hand delaying on his bony fingers. They twitched under her touch. Paul had his brother back. That had always been his priority.
Her fingers curled away. He always would be.
Chapter Twelve
Sunlight slanted across her face, golden warm perfection. A soft sigh escaped her as the cool trade winds washed through the room, billowing the muslin curtains draped over the wall of glass surrounding the bedroom. The fast fall of water and the calls of exotic birds swept around her, so different to the thunk of old pipes and the scent of rot and damp.
Vyn stretched, finding kinks and bruises everywhere. Her head fell back into the plump pillow and she stared up at the smooth white ceiling. She had to be shadowing, her thoughts, her personality caught in the Mind, her physical body long gone. The place was simply too perfect.
She turned, pulled her sheets with her, and Paul’s scent on the pillow made her pause. There were vague dreams just on the edge of her grasp. Of him, the warmth of his body wrapped around hers, keeping away the chill of an empty bed. A wry smile pulled at her mouth. Definitely shadowing.
They’d landed and Paul had left her to hustle Liam out and into the care of the waiting medics. She’d stood, not certain what to do, the warm winds lifting her tangled hair, watching the uniformed people ease Liam into a chair and disappear into the glass-walled rooms of the sprawling private villa. The whirring of insects, the scents of citrus and unknown flowers filled the air. It should have been blissful, but she stood in the darkness. Alone.
She’d roused herself, found a shower and a bedroom overlooking the lush gardens and night-still pool. For a moment, she’d stood in the clinging top and shorts she’d discovered in a drawer and stared up into the star-filled night. The island was beyond beautiful. But she wanted more than that. She wanted him.
Had he prepared for her as he’d prepared for Liam’s arrival? Or did he always leave women’s clothes in his bedrooms? Vyn thumped her pillow. He hadn’t promised her anything, only a date, a bribe to use his body. Liam came first. She couldn’t, she didn’t argue with that. How could she be so needy with a man she didn’t know?
She rolled out of bed and sat on the edge of the thick mattress, her warm toes curling against the coolness of the marble floor. “Time?” Her voice was a croak, her lips dry.
“Sixteen-fifty.” The clock’s voice, soft and synthetic, was a quiet whisper in the room.
Vyn did the calculations. She’d been out for more than twelve hours at least. Her stomach growled as she realised that fact. On the small table beside the bed was a coffeepot and croissants.
Shadowing. Beyond a doubt.
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br /> She pushed herself up, finding more aches and stiffness. Shuffling to the bathroom, she brushed her teeth and splashed water onto her face. A squint at her reflection showed her hair was beyond help. Still, she gave it one last pat before she grabbed a croissant and padded to the open window. And stopped.
A metal-railed balcony ran along the bedroom, and leaning against it, wearing nothing but shorts, was Paul. His back was to her and she let her gaze wander down the sleek-muscled perfection of his torso, the biteable curve of his backside, and legs that simply made her sigh. He even had nice feet.
She took a bite from her croissant. Chewing stopped her from saying something inappropriate. Stepping out onto the balcony, she squinted against the sharp burn of the sunlight. Heat swept over her, unexpected and surprising. “Hotter than I imagined.”
Paul didn’t turn and there was no surprise in any of his movements. He’d known she was there. “I’m sorry,” he said.
He wasn’t apologising about the heat. Vyn closed her eyes, her mind jumping to the obvious. She stared down at her bared arms, her intricate scars a burning silver against her pale skin. He was in paradise…and he was stuck with her. “So, what now?”
He faced her and she squinted up at him, his face lost to shadow. “I was tired.” His fingers hovered near her face, her hair, but didn’t touch. His hand dropped. “We need to talk.”
She lifted her croissant. “I need to eat.”
He waved her back into the bedroom, catching the billow of the curtains to let her pass. The cool air of the room made her breathing a little easier. She dropped onto the tangled sheets of the bed and poured herself a cup of coffee. She crammed the rest of the pastry into her mouth and cradled the hot cup.
Paul had paced the entire time. “I wasn’t sure we’d survive.”
Vyn stared into her cup, breathing in the rich scent, wanting it to calm her. “That makes two of us.” She looked up and her smile was wry. “Do you think we’re shadowing?”
He rubbed his hands together, the sounds dry and quick. “Everything would feel less…awkward if we were.”
Awkward. Yes. Vyn folded her legs, wriggling on the bed to get comfortable and not spill her coffee. She needed to appear nonchalant, because her insides were crawling with nerves and aching disappointment. “What happens now, Paul?”
“Liam will recuperate here. His medical team believe the prognosis to be good.” A smile touched his lips, reached his eyes, and his relief was almost palpable.
Vyn felt like a heel for being so self-focused. “Good. That’s good. Great.”
“And then there’s us.”
“Us.” Vyn sipped her coffee, welcoming the hot burn down her throat. The sunlight played over her bare legs, ones she’d hidden for so many years, the swirl of scarring a reminder of how Paul would not want her.
“Ossian was right. I was thorough.”
She frowned. “What does that mean exactly?”
He stopped pacing. His hands locked and a wince briefly tightened his features. “He set me up, like he said, leaving a trail to your connection with Liam, to the possibility that you could get him out. They’ve watched me for years. I couldn’t do anything until I had something tangible. Ossian gave me you.
“You disappeared the day after Liam was replaced. They had to move you to S-District because he knew what you were. What you could do.
“Ossian leaked the information that they were taking you on the next sweep, forcing me to act. They’d moved you once. And you were acting…strange. So it was probable they would do it again.”
“Strange?” The almost fugue state in which she had created the simulacrum—not sleeping, her fingers working, moving without conscious thought, her brain, her thoughts hardly her own. Had he witnessed that?
“My brother noted it seven years ago. And I was seeing it. I remember him saying you were distracted, almost…lost. It coincided with the strike from the Warrick-Alder Group.” His mouth pulled downwards. “When Liam was replaced, you were on your way to building another simulacrum, protecting the Corporation.”
Vyn blinked. She was? The days around Liam’s disappearance, the accusations and her expulsion into S-District were a blur. Had they not needed her involvement then? A twitchy security system that overreacted to any threat. Lucas’s stupidity and Ossian’s games had obviously pushed her further than she had ever gone.
She put her cup to her lips, relieved to have something to do. The coffee burned her tongue. It was over. Her mind was her own again. For the first time in decades. She looked up. Paul was still watching, his eyes narrowed, his shoulders tensed, and what they’d originally planned to discuss hit her again. Them.
She pressed her lips together, taking another taste of bitter coffee. “You said you were thorough.”
His fingers flexed and a tick jumped in his jaw. “I got close to you. Moved around your flat, found the drop boxes, knew your place as well as I knew my own. And—” his next wince screamed with unease, “—I watched you.”
Vyn stared at him. Her paranoia hadn’t been paranoia. “In my flat?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a pervert.”
“Yes. I am.”
Vyn rubbed the bridge of her nose, hard, not knowing what to think. Her whole life had been built on lies, on false reality. Why shouldn’t he be a lie too? She hadn’t believed Ossian, not really. But now Paul was admitting it. “Why? So you could play me, as Ossian has played us?”
“At first.” Paul was nothing if not honest. “Then…” A smile lifted the corner of his mouth and there was a distant shine to his eyes. The shine ran a quick and familiar need through her. If he was twisted, then so was she. “I began to like what I saw.”
“And we’re back to you being a pervert again.”
He dragged a stool from the vanity table in the corner and planted it in front of her. He sat. For a moment, his eyes held hers. “I didn’t expect you, Vyn. I expected some light-fingered Fomorian, a member of a skank gang strung out on white-fyre.”
“Pleasant image.”
“You were…new. Different.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Of course, the woman I first kissed you as was classic executive. Still tasted the same. I prefer the real you.”
Vyn felt the hot flush rise under her skin and she wanted to blame the heat of the coffee. She couldn’t. Paul had known it was her all along? “Why did you kiss me? In the club?”
There was that curl of heat in his eyes again, a dark hunger that formed an echo in her flesh. A hot, restless ache lying low in her belly. She couldn’t remember anyone ever looking at her with that level of…need.
“I wanted you. I still do.”
“Paul…”
He took the cup from her hand and with a clatter put it back onto the tray. “For you, this is insane. You met me yesterday.” He took her hands, his thumbs tracing over the deep scar bisecting her palm. The slow sensation of his touch shot sparks under her skin. “I suppose I met you yesterday.” He lifted her palm to his mouth and teased his tongue over her scar.
Vyn couldn’t stop her need to squirm, the sharp hit to her belly catching her by surprise.
Paul gave her his wicked smile. “But…I think we should begin to examine—in detail—where this could go.”
Her heart squeezed. Where could it go? He was insanely rich, his disconnection from the Corporation meant he was free to pursue anything and anyone he wanted…and that brought her to how he looked and how she looked. She was far too aware of her strangeness. He’d worked his way under her scarred skin—no doubt due to terror and her reliance on him, on each other to stay alive. She could see herself falling for him. And that scared her more than anything else in the previous twenty-four hours.
She had to push it now. Have him run screaming from her, before she found out if he was as good at everything else as he was at kissing. “And how far would that be? A week, a month?” She let her tongue wet her lips, watching him, watching his own mouth part in anticipation. “Longer?”<
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His head tilted and his expression sharpened. “Is that it, Vyn?” He dropped down beside her on the bed. “I fuck you, my curiosity is sated and I pack you off. Set you up in one of the small independent companies?”
The words sank through her and she could see that life, feel it, and it was…cold. She’d get over him. She had no doubt about that. Surviving in S-District had taught her how resilient she was. Still, to have him for a brief time and then nothing… It would be better to have nothing from the very beginning. “No. You can give me the money now.”
“I believe my body was the deal, Vyn.” He brought her hand up to his mouth again and pressed his lips to her palm.
The thrill of his touch, the way it connected with and deepened the ache in her flesh, forced her to close her eyes. “Don’t do this.”
“I intend to do exactly this—” his lips teased the pulse point at her wrist, “—for a week, a month—” he held her gaze and the familiar hunger caught her breath, “—definitely longer.”
“Paul.”
“I don’t want or need many things. In fact hardly anything.” The softness of his voice made her look at him. Sunlight gilded his face, touched his skin and promised a warmth to it if she pressed her mouth, her body against him. His hand slipped over her hip, finding the sliver of skin between her shorts and top. His thumb dipped under the band, slyly stroking. “I want and need you.”
Her throat closed and she simply stared at him. One word worked its way out. “Me?”
“You.”
Vyn jerked back until her spine hit the wooden headboard. “Why?” She winced. How to look stupid. She waved her hand at him, trying to put the words together, ones that would make sense. “I don’t get declarations like…that.”
“You saved my brother, you saved me.”
“So…gratitude.”
“I want to fuck you, not give you a medal. Vyn.” He ran quick fingers through his hair. “I let you kiss me when you were a man.”
Her mouth twitched upwards. “You did.” She paused. “I liked it. And that you called me…sir.”
