Women of Steel 2: Martini on the Rocks

by Camille Anthony

  Thalassic raised an eyebrow. Her lips drew tight. “Very well, Colonel. You may consider yourself under house arrest.”

  Returning her attention to the hovering crowd of media, diplomats and honored guests, Thalassic didn’t bother to return Martini’s shaky salute. “Gentlefem and gentlehommes, I apologize for this unseemly disruption. I realize it is unseasonably warm today. Let us continue with the corps review so we can return to headquarters.” A gracious smile curved her lips. “Refreshments are laid out and waiting for us.” She turned her head and her smile fell off. “Why are you still here, Colonel? You are dismissed.”

  Chapter Four

  Waves of heated shame washed over Marti as the crowd moved off, abandoning her on the drilling field. Their excited murmurs and quiet whispers assaulted her sensibilities, drew her attention without satisfying her curiosity. They spoke too low for her to hear, yet she was certain they spoke of her.

  Marti had never thought herself a coward, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make herself meet anyone’s gaze. She didn’t think she could bear seeing the expressions of condemnation and scorn for the family fuck-up probably darkening her mother’s slate gray eyes.

  Her cheeks and eyes burned as she fought back tears, cringing under the weight of the thousand curious eyes witnessing her disgrace. Her heart was leaden, a stone lodged in her chest. Confused, hurt and embarrassed beyond imagining, she executed a precise about-face and headed for the officers’ apartments. Vision blurred by the tears she refused to let fall, she stumbled over the uneven ground of the drilling field.

  A hand reached out and caught her elbow, drew her upright and steadied her until she regained her footing. Stiffening and trying to pull away, she panicked. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this. “I’m sorry, sir,” she mumbled. “Thank you, but I don’t require your assistance. I can --”

  Firm, full lips brushed the sensitive swirl of her lobe as a low voice whispered next to her ear. “I’ll just hold on. You almost fell, lover. The only bruises I want on your lovely flesh are the ones I put there.”

  Shock immobilized her. Disbelieving, Marti lifted her gaze and stared into the brown, laughing eyes of her Denzel.

  How did he come to be here?

  Why was he accompanying the Priestess?

  Suddenly, everything fell into place.

  I must be the biggest fool in three districts.

  Marti’s lips drew tight as she silently questioned her sanity. How could I be so stupid? Her pulse hammered in her throat; her chest rose and fell with her agitated breaths. “You sorry-assed motherfucker, I ought to laser your rotten ass!”

  The smile slowly faded from Denzel’s eyes and face. His brows twitched together. “Lover, what’s wrong? Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

  Marti snarled. “No.”

  “Now, lover… sounds like we have to talk…”

  “I have nothing to say to you, except…” Marti balled up her fist and punched Denzel in the jaw. “Virgin!”

  Pain, hot as an atomic fireball, exploded through her hand.

  “Ow! Shitpissfuck, that hurts!”

  Denzel captured her waving hand and gingerly turned it over on his wide palm. Face intent, he examined it for injury. Grimacing, he sucked air through his teeth. “Oh hell, baby, what have you done? That hand looks pretty bad.”

  Marti snatched her hand out of his grasp with a tiny pained scream. She carefully cradled it against her chest. “What the fuck are you made of?”

  “Sticks and snails and puppy dogs’ tails?” His lopsided grin awakened things low in her belly. She was too angry to entertain the thought it might be lust.

  Eyes narrowed, she accused, “You’re not an A.I. unit.”

  “Ah… no.”

  Marti closed her eyes, her face heating as their first meeting and subsequent interactions played out in her mind. She weighed the events of the last three months against the knowledge she had now, and groaned. “Oh Matrix, please don’t tell me I never had a M.A.N. Please tell me it wasn’t you all along.”

  “Sorry, lover, I can’t do that.”

  He didn’t sound sorry.

  “You’re human.”

  “Well, the improved version, anyway. My exoskeleton is enhanced with baridiium. The baridiium-derived strength is what fooled you into thinking I was an artificial intelligence unit.”

  Marti snarled. “You are so gonna die! I am so gonna kill you!”

  “Honey, I understand why you’re angry.”

  She snorted. “You have no idea what you’ve done!”

  “I didn’t mean to abandon you for over three months. I wanted to come to you sooner, but I’ve been so busy with court appearances and --”

  She held up a hand. “Like I am interested in what you have to say, you sap-sucking sorry excuse for kraken excrement. You and your partner lied to me. I should go back and blow his balls off. Hell, I should blow yours off.”

  Denzel’s beautiful dark face fell at her words. “You’re really angry, aren’t you? I thought you’d be glad to see me. I could have sworn we discovered something special together. You can’t deny we connected in a special way. There was something real going on between us…”

  Her voice so icy she could have chilled a nuclear reactor, Marti blasted him. “How could your feeble mind imagine there was anything going on but me wanting a hot fuck? Where in hell did you get the idea that my emotions were involved? I thought you were a robot!”

  “Isn’t this better?” He indicated his body. A glance down his body showed the line of his pants distorted by the hefty bulge of his erection.

  She wanted to shake him. Instead, she settled for hugging her hurt hand close, and crossing her arms. Anything to keep her hands off his tall, lean physique. “To answer you in a word -- hell, no!”

  “That’s two words.”

  She growled. “Eat shit and die, Denzel Wattana.”

  His chocolate irises turned murky with hurt. His full bottom lip poked out in an adorable way. “You sound like you mean that. Marti, if you really want me to leave, I will.”

  Oh no, please don’t let him do the puppy dog eyes thing…

  Marti gulped, lowered her eyes and spun away, hurrying across the field. She needed to put space between them. If she didn’t, she was afraid she’d soften and forgive him.

  Down at her side, her right hand curled into a compact fist. She was so angry she wanted nothing better than to hit him again, but the agonizing throb of her left hand dissuaded her from doing so. Hitting that snake would only cause her more pain.

  “Where are you going?”

  His plaintive question tugged at her sympathies until she reminded herself she was the injured party, not him.

  Ignoring him, she sped on, intent on gaining a private spot where she could nurse her physical and emotional injuries. She heard him following behind her but refused to glance back. She was afraid he might be gaining on her.

  Before she’d taken more than a dozen steps, Marti had to slow her headlong flight to freedom. Lightheaded and dizzy, she leaned forward, braced her right hand on her knee and lowered her head. She filled her lungs and held on for dear life, fighting the surge of nausea roiling in her belly.

  She knew she had no business rushing around in the heat like this. The sun had baked through the thick black material of her dress uniform, until her flesh felt parboiled.

  God, but she felt horrible. Sweat poured from her, ran in rivulets down her face and stung her eyes. As fast as she swiped at the drops, others appeared. Mouth open, she gasped, lungs swelling as she struggled for air.

  Through the ringing in her ears, she heard the tinny sound of Denzel’s voice, asking if she were all right. He sounded far away. Funny, she thought he had been closer. Spots danced before her eyes and she blinked, trying to clear her vision. Heat danced in waves upon the air.

  Just as blackness began to overtake her, she felt a broad palm cup her upper arm and drag her against a muscled chest. Denzel. Were s
he blind and crippled in the vacuum of space, she would know him. He smelled wonderful, as usual -- a blend of heated male, cool greenery and a spicy undertone that drove her wild. Her stomach turned.

  She pushed against him, her feeble attempts laughable. “Leggo. Get ’way from me.”

  “Martini Harmon, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong with you this minute, I will paddle your sweet ass!”

  The thunder of his voice roared in her ears, set her temples to throbbing. “M’sick. Toilet… quick!”

  “There’s no toilet near here. Can’t you wait ’til we get inside?”

  She couldn’t.

  How the hell can there be that much to puke up? I didn’t force down more than five crackers this morning.

  Conscious of a low-voiced murmur urging her to “let it all out,” Marti emptied her stomach for the third time that morning. Almost gagging again on the foul taste in her mouth, she slumped against Denzel, too weak to stand on her own.

  His arms came up to pull her closer, settle her snugly against his side. A finger beneath her chin lifted her face and she sighed as his gentle hands wielded a large white square of linen to clean the sweat and bile from her.

  Finished, he tucked the soiled cloth in a back pocket and tucked her back against his ribs. No breath of teasing colored his voice when he asked, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Martini?”

  “Rocked.”

  “What?”

  “You got your rocks off… I got on ’em.”

  He blinked. “I know you’re talking a language I’m supposed to understand. Why the fuck can’t I make those syllables make sense?”

  She almost laughed at his dumbfounded expression, but a quick inventory of her sore ribs decided against it. “Damn, Dumbo, your ears are big enough -- listen up. I am knocked up… on your rocks… pregnant!”

  Suddenly she was standing on her own. Denzel’s arms hung down by his sides as he stared at her in awe. Eyes so dark brown they appeared black in shadow swam with tears. His gaze clung to her, searched her body for any hint or sign of what she claimed.

  Finally, he looked up, met her gaze. He had to clear his throat before he could get any words out. “When did you know? Were you ever going to tell me?”

  Marti glared at him. “When did I know? Ten minutes ago, when I realized you were human. Up ’til then, I thought I was dying of some medicine-resistant illness.”

  He looked shocked and then sick. “Oh holy Matrix, Marti, I don’t know what to say. I am so sorry. I wouldn’t have put you through that to save the world.” His face was wet with tears.

  Then he spoiled it by laughing. “This is…” He shook his head. “Unbelievable, miraculous!”

  “This would only be miraculous if you had indeed been what you claimed to be, you dickless ass-wipe.”

  “Tut, tut, my dear, language… we wouldn’t want the child to pick up your colorful vocabulary. Besides, considering your present situation, you can hardly claim I’m dickless.”

  Marti ground her teeth. “This is so NOT funny, Denzel.”

  He sobered immediately. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Uh, Marti…? Why have you gone so white? Are you going to throw up again?”

  She shook her head no, right hand coming up to cup her forehead. “Dizzy…”

  “Poor baby, your eyes are red and your skin is clammy.” He sniffed near her head and pulled back sharply, turning his face from her. “Whew!” He raised his hand, fanning the funk away.

  Marti dropped her hand to glare at him. “Thanks for nothing, ass-wipe!” Trust him to bring up how bad she looked… and smelled, in the midst of her first-ever fainting spell. She didn’t need him to tell her just how unappetizing she appeared. She knew she resembled a half-done lobster… a limp half-done lobster.

  Denzel sobered. “Forget what I said. Just tell me what I can do to make you more comfortable?”

  “Catch me, you dumb shit…”

  The ground came up at an alarming rate. Strong arms halted her downward fall and wrapped her in security and warmth. Lips brushed her cheek. Right before she gave way to the darkness, his whispered words calmed her soul. “I’ll always catch you, Marti.”

  Chapter Five

  With a grateful sigh, Denzel took another healthy gulp of synthetic alcohol. He’d left water behind a long time ago, finding the fierce burn a welcome distraction. Seated in the general’s ready room at Repulsion Force Headquarters, he sipped at the potent drink and listened to the two most powerful women in the world exchange verbal blows.

  “My daughter is not a mutt, to be bred with any cur off the street!”

  “My son is no cur. He has the highest tested I.Q. in the world.”

  “Yet he’s stupid enough to play games with my daughter’s well-being by removing her IUD and fucking her without protection!”

  “I have a card!”

  Both women snapped their heads around to glare at him and he sank back in his chair, feeling very much like a naughty toddler en route to the corner. Damn, but Thalassic looked positively feral. Her stormy gray gaze bore into him, the relentless glare unnerving as hell.

  “You’ve heard Denzel’s version of their meeting. Everything they did was consensual.”

  “Well, I’ve yet to hear my daughter’s side as she’s still sleeping.” She sent another glare toward Den. “The painkiller for her hand combined with the stress of her untreated pregnancy has drained her dangerously. The doctors are in doubt that she will carry to term.”

  Without taking her eyes off him, she coldly proceeded to point out the same points he’d used to argue against the plan his friend and business partner, Chad Aresti, had devised.

  “He and that flighty business partner of his willfully and knowingly defrauded her. I can argue in a court of law that she never actually consented, Latifah, and you know it. Our family line has protected status under the charter. Your son impregnated my daughter without her knowledge. He engaged her in unprotected sex without divulging his virile status.”

  “Actually, I made sure to declare my status before having sex with Marti.”

  Thalassic bared her teeth in an expression so far from a smile it caused sweat to break out between Denzel’s shoulder blades. “Did you, really? Was that before or after you informed her you were not the A.I. unit she’d purchased?”

  “Don’t answer that, son.” His mother frowned at the general. “Trying the underhanded trick of getting him to admit to culpability will not work.”

  Swallowing sickly against the bitter bile coiling in his belly, he set his half-consumed liquor down. Riddled with guilt over his part in this sorry situation, he watched their tense interactions, realizing he’d single-handedly managed to derail the deep, years-long friendship between Brigadier General Thalassic Harmon and his mother, Latifah Wattana, High Priestess of Historical Sanctity and Cultural Holiness.

  Denzel mentally kicked himself. Damn it, I knew it was wrong. After over thirty years of falling into Chad’s shit, I should’ve known better. I never should have listened to him, never given in to my lust.

  “He will never get his hands on my granddaughter.”

  “And if the baby is a boy?” Latifah sighed.

  Thalassic froze him with a stony glare. A truly evil smile widened her lips. “Just for spite, I’ll have my consort, Marti’s father, raise him. Your son will have no part of my flesh.”

  “And what of me, Thalassic? Will you deny me access to my own flesh and blood?”

  “She doesn’t have the right to deny or grant access to my child.”

  “Martini!”

  “Marti!” Denzel leaped to his feet and rushed toward the door, intent on reaching the slim woman standing stiff and at attention in the doorway. “Should you be out of bed? Where’s the doctor?”

  Her eyes, when she turned to glance at him, were cold -- their usual robin’s egg blue faded to a chill pale hue. “Where she should be… with the sick patients that need her. I dismissed myself from the doctor’s care since I am not sick.�
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  “I don’t think you should have done that, Martini. You’ve definitely not been yourself lately.” Thalassic ran an agitated hand through her hair and at that moment Denzel forgave her for her unyielding attitude toward him.

  The warrior’s reputation preceded her, but he wasn’t interested in Thalassic, the general. His interest lay in the mother of the woman he loved and hoped to persuade to marry him. That was the woman who -- by the mindless messing of her smooth coiffure -- had just convinced him her first concern was for her daughter.

  Marti sighed tiredly. “Of course not, Mother. Until a few hours ago, I believed I had contracted some deadly, unknown disease. No matter what meds I dosed myself with, the symptoms remained and increased in severity. That I might be pregnant never crossed my mind… why would it? After all, the only sex I’d had in five years was with an android -- the safest sex you could have.”

  Denzel flinched at the self-derisive half-smirk that crossed her face.

  “You’ve always told me I’m too impulsive and naïve. I’ve certainly proved you right, this time.”

  “What utter nonsense, child. You are not at fault in this situation.” Thalassic placed a hand on her daughter’s arm. Den saw the arm twitch as if Marti’s first instinct was to shake the hand off.

  “Your med reports reveal your hormones are in total disarray. The imbalance and the head medic’s word is enough to have all improper conduct charges against you dropped for medical cause.”

  Tired of listening to Thalassic’s military mumbo-jumbo, Den jumped back into the conversation. Eyes trained on her, analyzing every move for weakness or lightheadedness, he made sure she was in no danger of falling. “I still want to know why you’re out of bed. I’m worried about you. Your color isn’t good.”

  “That’s rich. You can keep your worry and trot it right out of my life with the rest of you.”

  Her mien changed completely as she reverently nodded her head at the cultural icon. “Greetings, Priestess. Your presence honors me. Unfortunately, your son is a lying pig. Goodbye, Priestess.”