My Next Breath

by Shannon McKenna

  Here it was again. The rock and the hard place.

  Simone’s home was the worst idea ever. And getting inside it was exactly what he’d been working toward since he started his surveillance. This was his first and probably only chance for physical access to her networked hardware. He had Sisko’s ghostbot on a flash drive, ready to plug into her computer. He wouldn’t get a chance like this again. Certainly not after he told Simone about Obsidian.

  But going to her house after what had just happened—it was insane. A screaming clusterfuck in the making. He should take Simone away from here.

  Keep it simple. Keep her safe.

  Even though it was five days into week nine from the day his brother’s captor died. Five days into week nine that Luke might have started starving to death in a cage.

  “Zade? Are you okay?” Simone’s tone was worried.

  He looked around. “Ah, yeah. Fine. We’ll drop by if you want. You should be quick, though.”

  “I just hope Kruger hasn’t staked me out there,” she said. “But that’s bound to happen. And it drives me even more crazy when I fight it.”

  He grunted. “Assassins just tried to abduct you, Simone. Please. Fight it.”

  “My stepdad’s people can’t be involved with this,” she said stubbornly. “I never saw those thugs who jumped you before. No one’s that pissed at me except Rand. And Rand wouldn’t have me attacked. I make too much … ”

  He waited for a moment. “Too much what?”

  She didn’t answer for moment. “Money,” she said finally. “I make him too much money. It’s not in his best interests to have me killed. I’m more profitable to him alive.”

  Zade absorbed that information. “So it’s like that with him?”

  “Pretty much.” Her voice was bleak.

  After a moment or two, she shook that thought away and returned to the burner phone, tapping in codes to activate it. Plugging it in to charge on the car’s battery.

  As soon as it worked, she called 911 and told them about Fayette’s body. She gave the address and hung up while the dispatcher was asking for her name.

  “How do I get to your place?” he asked.

  “Turn right here.”

  When they got to her modern townhouse, he drove right on past and circled around, parking a few blocks away. All his senses were extended in every direction all around them as they walked the short distance, ASP madly churning and scrolling with full-on combat readiness, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was just a quiet residential neighborhood on a working day.

  She disabled the alarm to get them in, and led him up the stairs over the street level garage. Strange to see the place he knew so well from these unfamiliar angles.

  The place was neat, comfortably furnished, and bland. Hardly decorated at all. No art, no photos, nothing personal. He would never have associated it with her.

  She closed the door after him and gave him a look that was almost shy.

  “I’d offer you something to drink, but I don’t really have anything worth offering in the fridge,” she said. “I could make some coffee.”

  “I don’t need anything,” he told her. “Pack your stuff.”

  “Um … okay.” She kept looking at him.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s just that I’ve never had anyone here like you. The place looks strange with you in it.”

  “Strange how?”

  She looked perplexed. “I don’t know.”

  “Whatever,” he said grimly. “We have to leave. I mean it.”

  She nodded and ran lightly up the stairs.

  He stared up after her, the feeling of neck-prickling wrongness growing stronger. This place was so fucking dangerous. For her, for him, and for all the other Midlanders. If Obsidian got him, they would pry him open with drugs and control codes, and he would expose all his friends.

  No choice. Game over. For all of them.

  The tiny flash drive was ready in his hand, loaded with Sisko’s ghostbot. He’d been too busy last night wildly screwing. Hadn’t even spared a thought to load the ghostbot onto his implanted auxiliary database so he could use the direct brain interface.

  No, he had to do it manually, like an asshole.

  When they were out of this deathtrap, he was coming clean with her, but for now, he’d do what he had to do.

  Act now and clean up the mess later.

  Chapter 16

  Simone stopped at the hall closet to pull out her suitcase and practically bounced into her bedroom with it. After all the mayhem, she should be shattered, but she wasn’t. She was standing in a high, bright place with a stunning view in every direction. Infinite possibilities were opening before her.

  This manic rush was weird. Irrational. For God’s sake, someone who had tried to help her had just died. But she couldn’t help it. Something deep inside her had burst free, triggered not by a death wish, but by a fierce will to live.

  She wished she could play this cool, but she just couldn’t pretend that going into hiding with a sexy and fascinating new lover was no big deal for her. She’d be driving with him, eating with him, sleeping with him.

  On the one hand was her flat-lined life of drudgery and solitude, and on the other hand was a wild adventure with a smoking hot, muscular sex god commando warrior in his leather coat.

  Whoa. Tough choice.

  She tossed the bloodstained jacket onto the floor. Tore off the soiled clothes she was wearing. Rifled through her clothes, throwing things into the suitcase. Grabbing this, grabbing that. Underwear, socks, pants, jeans, camis, tops and tanks. No pajamas. There was no point. The thought made her grin like a fucking idiot.

  Oh for God’s sake, Brightman. Get a grip.

  No. She wouldn’t. She was sick of that death grip. It had taken a scorching night of wild sex, two violent attacks, and a close encounter with a corpse to make her shake loose of it, and she wasn’t going back. Fuck the death grip. Fuck all of it.

  She hurried into the bathroom, filling her beauty case. Toothbrush, shampoo, floss, makeup.

  Now, what to wear in the great outdoors? Anorak. Unlined. She flipped madly through her closet. There it was, in the back of her closet. Slate blue. Perfect for walking through beautiful wild places with Zade. Beaches and forests, lakes and streams. Oh yeah.

  Now for the electronics. She rummaged through cables, attachments—

  Her bedside phone rang. Rand’s ringtone.

  The pain clamped down like a vise. Instantly. The noise was unbearable. A screaming freight train roaring past at top speed.

  She dropped to her hands and knees. Then sideways, to her butt.

  The talisman. She groped for it, but the pain was huge and her defenses were down. Phone. Get it. The phone.

  No possibility of fighting this time. She felt hot. The pressure was building in her head like steam.

  She dragged herself toward the bedside table and knocked the phone off it with a wild grab. She groped for it, scrabbling blindly over the carpet with her hands, and hit it with her fingertips, sending it spinning even further away.

  Quick, quick, before her brain was crushed.

  Now she had it clutched in her icy, shaking hand. She tapped the glowing red icon for talk. Talk. She tried to speak but couldn’t get any sound out.

  “Simone? Are you there? Simone?” Rand’s voice was thin and faraway. The worst of the pain began to ease. The roaring subsided.

  She could see again. Breathe again.

  “Simone!” Rand’s voice was louder now. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

  She concentrated hard. “Fine,” she croaked.

  The second she spoke, the pain eased completely and the roaring faded to a grinding buzz. She lay on the ground, limp. Bathed in a cold sweat. She couldn’t even sit up.

  “ … say something! For God’s sake, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m here,” she said, with effort. “Just kinda dizzy. Low blood pressure. No biggie.”

 
“You’re wrong about that. I told you it’s time to see Dr. Laera! But you won’t listen to me!”

  Rand launched into a scolding rant. She tuned it out as she flopped over onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

  “Rand,” she said. “I don’t feel good. It’s not a good time. Let’s talk later.”

  “Later when? You don’t answer your cell!” His blaring volume made pain stab through her head again.

  “My phone got broken last night,” she said. “I have to get a new one today.”

  “And did that happen while you were rolling around with that lowlife you scraped out of the gutter?”

  “I don’t want to discuss that.” Fresh pain jabbed through her head as she said it, and she gasped silently. Talisman. She reached for it.

  “Overruled. I hate to tell you this, but for your own safety, I installed surveillance in your apartment, and at this moment, I’m—”

  “You installed what?” Outrage gave her the strength to sit up.

  “I’m monitoring those feeds right now, and at this exact moment, your new boyfriend is in your studio, Simone. Spying on you.”

  Her mind rejected that outright. Rand would automatically assume that any interest Zade might have in her place was malevolent. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “He just plugged a flash drive into your computer,” Rand said. “He took pictures of all the designs on your drafting table with his smartphone. From the second you went upstairs, he’s been busy. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Simone. I truly do.”

  She froze. Her mind stopped in its tracks. It simply would not process that information. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Watch your language. I have video, if you need visual proof. He’s breaking the law. Engaged in industrial espionage as we speak. I’m sending a link to the file right now.”

  “That’s not possible,” she protested. “He didn’t even want to come here! I was the one who suggested it! He’d never met me before last night! He never even knew my name!”

  “Dear God, Simone. I don’t like to invade your private business, but you put the security of my business at risk when you open your legs, so I have no choice. Look at the video. And don’t hang up on me.”

  Enough strength had returned to her body to get her up, lunging for her tablet. One new email was bannered on the screen. From Rand. She opened it.

  Rand was still talking, a constant grating yap, but she ignored him and clicked on the link. There was her studio from the vantage point of … yes, the antique clock that Rand had brought her as a present from Switzerland years ago. He must have monitored her with it ever since. The thought made her skin crawl.

  The hidden camera inside the clock showed her studio door and Zade coming in. His face was blank. He went straight to her computer, tapped a key to wake it, and stuck a flash drive into a USB port. He stared into the screen, tapping purposefully onto the keyboard. The hidden camera rotated, catching a different angle as he held up his smartphone to photograph design schematics and specs.

  His efficiency was chilling.

  She collapsed on the bed, clutching the tablet. The video ended abruptly. Evidently Rand couldn’t send a streaming feed in real time.

  She wanted to run downstairs. Demand an explanation from Zade. He’d explain everything. Make all the pieces fit somehow.

  She tossed the tablet aside. No need for a replay. That goddamn video would be playing in her mind forever. A permanent reminder of what a love-starved, needy idiot she’d been. Falling for his ridiculous bullshit. Falling for him.

  Rand was shouting. She picked up the phone.

  “I saw it,” she muttered.

  “I know you did. I watched you watch it.”

  The ick factor hit her hard. “You’re watching me now? In my bedroom? In my underwear? Really, Rand?”

  “What of it? Your life is extremely boring. A bot alerts us to anything atypical outside your normal range of activities.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Rand sighed. “I can always count on you to focus on the irrelevant issue. Would you be surprised to learn that your new boyfriend hired those two men to attack you last night?”

  She sucked in air. Whoa. Who’d have thought that there was farther to fall.

  That hole was infinitely deep when the floor no longer held you up. She had just thudded several stories further down. To someplace much darker and colder.

  “Those men were paid,” he repeated. “According to them, his plan was to terrify you and then sweep in and save you. To gain your trust. And you made it so simple for him.”

  She closed her eyes. Sweat beaded on her forehead. “I see,” she whispered.

  “He played you. You were such an easy mark. All those advanced degrees in science clearly taught you nothing about interpersonal relationships. Or exercising caution.”

  “How … how do you know? About those men?”

  “Kruger witnessed the whole thing right after he spotted your car through a long-range lens, which put him too far away to intervene. But he caught up with the muggers as they ran away.”

  Hired. By Zade. She still couldn’t get that detail to make sense in her head. It rattled around loose. No place to put it.

  “We questioned them separately. It seems that each of them earned four hundred dollars cash in advance for last night’s performance. Which won’t pay for the loose teeth and dislocated jaws. And they’re pissing blood. Serves them right. Scum.”

  She kept staring at the last, frozen frame on the tablet’s screen.

  Zade, intensely focused. Betraying her. Stealing her work.

  “So that’s the short version. More to come. You have a lot to learn, Simone. You simply have no clue how the world works. And you’re not helping yourself with these tantrums of yours, either. You have to get yourself in hand.”

  “Guess so.” If she hadn’t been so numb, she would have laughed.

  “My team is on the way. They should be there in about ten minutes. Can you keep him occupied for that long?”

  “But … what are you going to—”

  “We’re bringing him in, of course,” Rand said impatiently. “We have to question him. Find out who he’s working for. Obviously.”

  No. This couldn’t be happening. But she’d seen him with her own eyes, when he hadn’t known she was watching. Or that anyone was watching. Violating her trust. Fucking her over.

  Anger hit at last. A murderous swell of rage like nothing she’d ever felt before. “I can keep him here that long.” She didn’t recognize her own voice, it was so brittle and dry. “Warn your team that his combat skills are amazing.”

  “They’re top people. Get off the phone or he’ll get suspicious. And for God’s sake, get some clothes on.”

  Oh. That. She’d forgotten. She was in her underwear and Rand could see her. Nasty, but even the unclean, crawling feeling was starting to feel distant now.

  “They aren’t going to hurt him, are they?” she asked. “No guns?”

  “Just keep him occupied. And for God’s sake, act natural.”

  Rand hung up. She sat there, slumped on the bed.

  “Simone?” Zade’s voice came up from the bottom of the stairs. “We should get going. You about done up there?”

  “Ah … just a couple more minutes,” she called back.

  “I heard the phone ring. Who was that?”

  Panic engulfed her. Easier to tell the truth—or some of it—than try to lie.

  “Rand. He was worried because he couldn’t reach me on my cell.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “The usual. Give me just a couple more minutes. I’ll be right down.”

  “Hurry.” There was an edge to his voice.

  Simone looked at the suitcase she’d been packing minutes before with such giddy abandon. The lacy lingerie lapping over the edge mocked her now.

  Stupid stupid stupid. Dreaming of a big romantic adventure with a new lover. Who had apparently fucked her brains
out. Fun while it lasted.

  She wondered if it had been a big effort for him. Making her come like that, acting so appreciative, making her feel incredibly beautiful.

  It hurt. Everywhere. She’d opened up to him so widely. Heart and soul.

  She doubled over that icy, whirling hole inside her, silently screaming.

  “Hey! Simone!” He was coming up the stairs.

  She hurried into the en suite bathroom and locked herself inside with hands that trembled. Damp and cold. Everything shook. She wasn’t capable of acting natural right now.

  “Simone?”

  “Yeah?” she called back.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine. I’m just fine.”

  “You sound strange,” he said.

  She sank down onto the edge of the bathtub, suppressing silent, hysterical laughter. Strange. Hah. What an understatement. “Ah. Well, I guess it’s just, ah, hitting me now. You know. Finding Fayette, those guys attacking us. I’m just having a delayed reaction. But I’ll get through it. I’ll be okay.”

  He rattled the doorknob gently. “Can I come in?”

  She squeezed the miserable laughter down into the place it came from. She’d sound like a cackling madwoman if she let it out. “No,” she forced out. “I, ah, just really need a moment. Alone, I mean.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll wait out here.”

  Shitshitshit. “Um … actually, could you go down to the kitchen and make coffee?” she improvised wildly.

  In the silence that followed, she sensed his puzzlement and frustration. It pulsed right through the door. “Not a good idea. Not when hit men could be closing in on us.”

  “I really doubt it, Zade. On you, maybe. Nobody ever notices that I exist. I’m just not that interesting.”

  “You can still say that after what just happened?”

  “Look, please. I just have to have a shot of coffee. With sugar,” she mumbled. If he couldn’t hear her, the conversation would take longer. “I’m dizzy. I need something to steady me.”

  “We can get coffee at a drive-thru somewhere. Come on.”