by Moira Rogers
Comfortable enough for two, the space became unbearable with four, especially when three of the four pulsed with magic that took up a damn lot of space for being invisible. Zel banished Trip to his own office and brought out a folding chair for Lorenzo, who was annoying a heavily pregnant Hailey by hovering as she lowered herself into Trip’s plush chair.
Watching Hailey rest a protective hand over her stomach was a curious sort of torture. Zel slammed the folding chair down too hard and winced as it scraped across the floor, worn metal legs snagging on the run-down carpet. His second-in-command was alone and pregnant, but it was the alone part that could be laid squarely on Zel’s shoulders. His failure had resulted in the catastrophe that was tearing their settlement apart from the inside. His failure had left the father of Hailey’s child dead.
Hailey didn’t blame him. Had never blamed him, and that hurt the worst because it meant she’d used her unique gift to peer into the heart of the matter and had come to the conclusion that he couldn’t have averted the tragedy. To her it settled the matter, as if Zel should accept that he’d been helpless to save men like her husband from the consequences of his brother’s rebellion and move on.
Hailey might possess wisdom about the heart, but her demon blood ran weak—too weak to understand that a halfblood warrior didn’t have room for helplessness. Win or lose. Conquer or fall. Succeed—
Or get your people killed.
He couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her as he returned to his seat. “We’ve got trouble again.”
Lorenzo pulled up his own chair, turning it to sit backwards. “You have no idea. Thanks to your orders, your little hauler almost took my head off.”
A suitable distraction, if he didn’t ponder the rush of dark, primal satisfaction at hearing Devi referred to as his. “What orders? To check on the techie?”
“Mmm. I ducked into her head to look around while Rosa was healing her. Easy, since she was rerouting a lot of my energy to the girl anyway.” Lorenzo frowned. “Guess she didn’t like it and told her boss so. That woman is scary.”
Shit. At least he knew why she hadn’t liked having her head played with. “The girl—Cache—was taken by demons once. She escaped but got the network boot, and some black-market hack mangled her chip installation. She’s probably not gonna love those of us with demon blood.”
“No kidding.”
Hailey’s sigh was long-suffering and just melodramatic enough to make Zel smile in spite of himself, even if her next words weren’t so amusing. “We get a dozen blacklisted refugees a year. If you knew she was one of them, you should have told Lorenzo. He’s only a tactless idiot when you don’t give him enough information.”
“Thanks a ton.”
She continued as if Lorenzo hadn’t spoken. “And if the two of you don’t start communicating about things other than weapons and violence, we’re going to be in a world of hurt when this baby comes and I don’t have as much time to smooth things over.”
Lorenzo grinned and nudged her foot with his. “We’re not kids anymore. We’ll get it done.”
“Uh-huh. Apologize to the girl. And the crew leader, because you don’t hold together a crew like theirs without being protective and unforgiving. You upset one of her people, you upset her.”
Zel was okay with having Devi pissed off at Lorenzo, which was stupid. Lust had started to cloud his thinking, and badly enough that it might be worth it to brave the pain of the network to find a little companionship. He had the false credentials necessary to get in damn near anywhere, and some of the darker corners of the Global had just what he needed—clubs filled with men and women looking for dirty, anonymous sex, hard and fast against a wall or over a table.
All too easy to conjure the image of a willing woman in clothing designed to be shoved aside or torn apart. Less acceptable that the fantasy drifted until the hair clenched in his fist was curly and wild and big blue eyes stared up at him, full of mischief and challenge, as Devi tore open the front of his pants and wrapped her hand around his—
Everything on his desk rattled as Hailey drove her booted heel into it. Her cheeks held the slightest flush, but her expression was more worried than embarrassed. “There are things I’d rather not share with you. Really.”
Zel cringed in embarrassment. Hailey had an unusual heritage—few powerful summoners existed anymore, and fewer still were eager to pair themselves with halfbloods whose demon magic could strip them of their free will. The offspring of such matings had unpredictable powers at the best of time, like his niece and her ability to heal…and Hailey’s strong psychic gifts.
Lorenzo coughed. “You need a good fight. What does Trip have set up for this weekend?”
“The usual.” Trip had recreated their virtual fighting ring from snippets of old code from before the Fall, when fighting had become an underground, uplinked sport with battles ending in virtual death. Humans held themselves aloft in their pretty cities now, but violence and cruelty had existed in their world long before demons had taken their place among them.
His friend’s expression was sedate, almost bland. “Maybe you can sweet-talk Devi into taking you for a spin in the ring.”
“Oh, that’s a brilliant fucking—” Zel bit off the end of his retort, but it was too late. Lorenzo knew just how to prod to get a reaction, and he’d given him one. A fight in the ring should be no big deal. No permanent harm came from it, and it was a good way to release some tension.
Unless that tension was sexual. Halfbloods born of the violent caste of demons short-circuited when fighting and fucking weren’t clearly delineated. Last weekend, a simmering feud between two halfbloods had resulted in most of the adult population of Rochester getting a show when the pair finally lost their grip on self-control. Trip had booted them from the network before Shana had gotten her hands on her new playmate’s dick, but rumor had it the two had gone at it in the soldiers’ barracks while everyone else was still linked up.
Sex and violence. It always came back to one or the other.
Hailey’s breath hissed out, sharp enough to jerk Zel’s attention back to her. Lorenzo was half on his feet before she held up one finger in obvious threat. “Back off, he’s just kicking.” Her hand pressed tighter to the swell of her belly, and her eyebrows drew together. “I hope.”
“Bad timing.” Lorenzo swore. “This is all bad timing. What has Trip uncovered?”
“I’ll ping you both with the files. Overview?” Zel held up his fingers and ticked off the members of Devi’s crew one at a time. “The man’s Tanner. A thug, pretty much, but a legal one. Trained by the government, did what most of them do when they get bored or want more money—found a crew to ship out with. The woman is Juliet Ruiz, not much there. Never caused trouble, but likes weapons. A lot. The girl, though…”
Over half of the file Trip had put together had been on Cache alone. Troubled childhood, early indications of being too smart and too precocious for anyone’s comfort. Trip hadn’t been able to find out who, if anyone, had trained her, but Trip’s education hadn’t exactly been textbook, either. The best network techs seemed to be that way—homegrown, dangerous, and generally recruited or killed before they hit twenty. Trip had found safety in an outcast town that needed his expertise, and Cache had done the same when she’d signed up with Devi.
Zel shook his head and gestured to the tablet. “Her real name’s Marinella, but she has a dozen aliases and travels under a fake ID as Polly. They all call her Cache. She got snatched on a haul a couple years back, wound up exiled with a bad chip. Lost her hearing due to nerve damage caused by infection. If it weren’t for her, the whole crew would be so legit they’d shine.”
“Which begs the question,” Lorenzo murmured. “Why haven’t the rest of them ditched her yet?”
Hailey quirked one eyebrow, giving Lorenzo the exasperated look she usually reserved for recalcitrant teenagers. “What happened when you went to check on her?”
“Boss lady gave me a death glare and tol
d me not to ever climb in the girl’s head again. She didn’t threaten me, but she didn’t really have to. Very protective.” He shrugged. “They could be an item.”
Oh, that was an unpleasant twist to Zel’s fantasies. Not that he couldn’t enjoy the idea of two women crawling over each other, but it was too easy to remember Cache’s terrified weakness, a weakness that roused instincts more interested in violence than sex.
Not that he could admit that to anyone. “They could be. Either way, she’s protective as hell.” He thought of the words she’d used. Throw someone like Cache away. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s made plans to go off the grid if she has to.”
Lorenzo considered it. “A move like that, if you’re going to do it smart, takes as much information as it does money.”
“Maybe she’ll share.” Hailey considered Zel for a moment. “We need information, don’t we? If Nicollet has made their move?”
“We have some.” But not enough, never enough. “I could ask—but things might get tense if they think I’m holding them to interrogate them.”
“Things are tense anyway,” Lorenzo argued. “And maybe for good reason.”
“Maybe,” Hailey agreed. “But why borrow trouble? Offer them help refueling. We have resources to spare, and maybe she’ll be a little more open if she’s on familiar ground. Goods for services, Zel. That’s what a hauler’s life is.”
His head was starting to throb, and it made him snappish. “So maybe I can—”
The door slammed open. “You fucking bastard.”
Zel didn’t remember vaulting over his desk, but he must have because his boots hit the carpet a heartbeat later. He curled his fingers around the hilt of his knife and rose, his body squarely between Hailey and the intruder. Lorenzo reacted more slowly, but the door barely had time to rebound off the wall before his friend stood next to him, just far enough that he wouldn’t be in the way if Zel had to draw his knife.
Drake stood there, bristling with the power that made him Rochester’s second-ranked warrior. “Who are you dealing with? Who brought the spy here?”
Hell had just broken loose.
The visitors’ quarters of the Rochester settlement turned out to be the entire basement level of what had once been a hotel. The walls were painted block or concrete, materials that would have been either too hot or too cold above ground, but served well in underground structures.
Devi’s footsteps echoed through the corridor as she walked from the communal bath to the room she’d chosen, rubbing a threadbare towel over her wet hair as she went. She’d redressed before drying off completely and her clothes, while clean, clung uncomfortably to her skin and twisted and bunched.
She could have commandeered one of the coarse, thin sheets from the bedding and wrapped up until her skin dried, but she was used to clingy clothes—and worse. Even the small standing tub and paltry ration of water were posh compared to what she usually got on the road.
A handy reminder that these were unusual circumstances.
She got another when she turned the last corner and saw Zel standing at her door, his hand raised to the chime. “Hi.”
He had too much control to jerk his hand away, but from the way he tensed and slowly dropped it, she got the feeling he wanted to. It didn’t make him shy about looking his fill, and the way his gaze lingered made her wish she was either more or less covered. “Devi.”
She cocked her head toward the door. “Would you like to come in?”
“If you don’t mind.”
She’d set the access code first thing, and she appreciated that he allowed her to punch it in and maintain the illusion of privacy. Of course he could override it, and would—if he had to.
Devi liked that about him.
“Home sweet home, for now.” She tossed her wet towel over the back of a chair. Making the small, hard bed had been her first order of business, mostly to take her mind off the way the utter lack of personal touches made the room look more like a prison cell than anything else. It hadn’t helped. “Is there a problem?”
He leaned against the wall just inside the door, his muscular arms draped over his chest. Casual this time, giving the impression of being relaxed and at ease, but everything about him screamed predator, a lazy animal who could nevertheless pounce at any moment. “Not as such. At least, not yet. And I won’t let there be one, but it only seemed fair to warn you that not everyone’s happy you’re here.”
Devi almost smiled. “I’d be shocked as hell if that weren’t the case.”
“Things are…” He seemed to be trying to decide how much to tell her. “Unsettled.”
“As soon as I get something figured out in regards to our fuel situation, we’ll get out of your hair.”
“That’s part of what’s riling people up. We’re in the awkward position of having a council spy trussed up in lockdown.”
“And people are wondering what to do with him, and whether you have four more in the visitors’ quarters.” Devi leaned on a rickety table, determined not to let him see her discomfort. “Did I miss anything?”
“Not really.”
His eyes were dark, and Devi rubbed her hands over her bare arms. “As far as I can see, there’s not much my crew or I can do about that.”
“Nothing except sit tight.” His gaze followed her hands as they smoothed over her skin. “There’s only one easy way into this sector, and I’ll have a guard on the door. Someone I trust to defuse the situation if anyone thinks to come and try to talk to you. And I’d like you to meet with my second soon, if you’re willing. If she tells people you’re not a danger, most will believe her.”
Keeping her mind on business was a Herculean struggle. He still stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, and she found herself watching his hand where it rested on his arm.
He was tense—who wouldn’t be at the moment?—but her attention shifted from his obvious unease as sudden desire struck her, slowing her brain and quickening her body.
His hands were strong, but she’d already felt how gentle they could be. Careful, controlled. Would he fuck a woman the same way? Afraid to let go for fear of hurting her?
No. He’d drive into her, grinding deep. Rough, hot. Intent on pleasure.
Fuck.
His voice was lower when he spoke again. Gravelly. “Devi?”
She suppressed a shiver as her body betrayed her, head to toe. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, and her nipples hardened under the light, damp cotton of her shirt. When she shifted on the table, pressing her thighs together, she almost groaned. That slight movement proved her more than ready for him, wet and sensitive and aching.
He was clear across the room, and if she rubbed her thighs together just a little more, she’d probably come.
It was unacceptable. “What?”
“That okay with you?”
Don’t look, Devi… He was aroused, an impressive erection straining the front of his pants. “Your second-in-command. Got it.”
His jaw clenched, like he’d caught her looking but wasn’t willing to admit it. “There is one thing you can do, if you’re willing. We could compensate you.”
“What’s that?”
“We need intel. Information on the area, the closest settlements. Haulers see things.”
She thought of the maps carefully rolled into her duffel. Each was her own personal creation, meticulously marked with routes and locations, including some of her own stashes of goods and chips. “Yeah, we see things. We also have to be damn careful about what we share.”
He nodded once, as if he’d expected the words. “Considering where you’re standing, it’s a virtue I can appreciate. No settlements would do business with you if you were going to tell their secrets.”
“Exactly. I tell you something about Forestville today, next week we’re not welcome there.” And news got around, whether through the Global or because no one liked to talk as much as a hauler with a few drinks in him.
“There’s only one
place I need information about.” His gaze didn’t waver. “And I’m not planning to use it unless they come after us, if that makes a difference.”
Nicollet. Devi shivered. “How can I be sure you’re not planning a preemptive attack on the city?”
He didn’t blink. Didn’t hesitate. “Why would I want to? Their resources are overtaxed and I have enough people to feed as it is.”
The answer had been drilled into her head as surely as every other human’s for as long as she could remember, and she gave it to him now, a weapon of truth—and a plea for him to deny it. “Because you’re monsters. Bloodthirsty monsters.”
Her words struck home. He flinched, his eyes tightening, then resumed his blank expression as if the lapse hadn’t happened. “Sometimes,” he agreed blandly. “And we’re honest about it too, which is more than you can say for the bastards running most of the cities these days.”
Surely he didn’t expect her to disagree. “Yes. If you swear you’ll only use the information for defense, I’ll help you.”
The room had a small table with a couple of folding chairs that had clearly seen better days. Zel nudged one back with his foot and folded his body into it before pulling out a tablet. “I swear on all the lives in my care, I will not invade Nicollet.”
“All right.” Devi knelt beside the bed and pulled out her duffel. “Most of my maps deal with other settlements, but I have some information on the city. You can talk to Juliet and Tanner too, if you need to know what sort of military forces and armament they have.”
One of Zel’s eyebrows swept up. “They know that sort of thing?”
“Some.” She shrugged. “People talk. The training is hard to hide, and so are the rifles the guards carry. The guns they set up around the perimeter and at checkpoints are hard to miss too.”
He pulled up a map of the countryside stretching between Rochester and the remains of what had once been Minneapolis and Saint Paul. “One thing we don’t know is how many of these roads are being maintained. I have a few people who make trips to nearby settlements, but most of us stay off the main routes as much as possible. Hopefully they’re not going to be able to bring an army offroad, though.”
