“There ya go, then. Least with him I get first crack. Let’s face it, I’m well down the pecking order with her. She’ll be stretched out like an Alterian whore and filled with cum in all her holes by the time I get there. I’d rather get me some nice tight bot ass all to myself. Besides, it’s a bot. No shit to deal with.”
Sunshine, you are in for a big surprise, on more than one level.
Johnny kept silent as they reached their destination. One of the troopers opened the door and they were thrust through into the small room beyond. Johnny turned, but the door was already starting to close, Hudson’s face just visible in the narrowing gap. He winked and blew Johnny a kiss, then the door clanged shut.
“I’m gonna ram that guy’s rifle so far up his own ass, he’ll choke on the f**king barrel.”
“No, you don’t get it. He wasn’t supposed to leave the station.”
Ready to tear her hair out, Cyn stared down the officious little man sitting behind the desk at station security. His face screwed up in concentration, he struggled to wrap his head around what she was telling him and was obviously failing miserably. Hell, she had bots quicker on the uptake than this.
“Okay, so let me get this straight. You want to report a bot or your friend missing?” His hand hovered over the forms at his side, doing an aerial two-step as he looked at her in confusion.
Cyn sighed and glanced up at the ceiling as though for inspiration. The standard plush foot-square tiles common the station over—hell, the universe over—looked back at her. If tiles could have an innocent expression, these had one.
Fat lot of use you lot are, she told them silently before turning her attention back to the little man all but spilling out of the navy blue uniform of station security. He could have done with a little less time polishing his buttons and badges, and a little more time on the treadmill.
Taking a deep breath, she tried again, pleased that her voice emerged level, without a hint of her rising annoyance. “Okay. I need to report my friend missing. He was on a ship, but it wasn’t due to leave dock before Tuesday.”
His hand dropped away from the forms.
“So he’s not missing then.”
Cyn blinked in surprise, wondering if she was actually speaking galactic standard or some weird and wonderful language from beyond the outer rim.
“Come again?”
The officer sighed and adopted a “let’s explain it slowly for the little woman” expression. “If he boarded a ship and you know which ship, then he’s not missing. He’s simply not on the station, now is he? If he’s not on the station, then it’s not our jurisdiction.”
She clamped her jaw shut to contain the snarl in the back of her throat as she wondered exactly what force it would take to shove his head up his ass since it obviously belonged there. Triggered by her train of thought, her ever helpful onboard fed her several different scenarios to achieve that goal. All of them messy, but extremely satisfying.
“So the fact that the ship left before it’s authorized departure time doesn’t ring alarm bells?”
He shrugged, the buttons and braid on his shoulders doing an elaborate dance. Given the fact he was rounder than he was tall, all the crap perched on his shoulders made him look like an overdecorated cupcake.
“Ships change departure slots all the time. It’s nothing to do with us. You’d need to speak to loading operations about that.”
Fuck. She was running out of options. Taking a mental step backward, Cyn ran both her onboard and biological brain at maximum capacity. She’d known something was wrong as soon as she’d seen the Starflame move out of dock. She’d been lucky to see that in the first place, catching sight of the Leviathan of a transport edging out as she’d walked back over one of the space walks from the habitation pod of the station to the main core. She knew Johnny. Being out of contact was one thing, but if he was leaving the station, for whatever reason, he’d have found a way to let her know and why.
She backpedaled and tried the only thing she had left.
“So if it wasn’t my friend, and one of my bots. Can I file a charge of theft? What would happen then?”
“The Intergalactic Corps of Justice would get involved, track down the ship and recover your property.” A new voice broke into the conversation from behind them.
Cyn swung around, to come face to face with the sexiest human she’d ever seen. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t even come close. Tall, wicked-looking and heart-stoppingly gorgeous was nearer the mark. She’d thought Johnny was good-looking, had even had a wee bit of a crush on him for years even though she knew nothing could come of it, but this guy blew him out of the water in the sex on legs stakes.
Her gaze took an assessing wander over him, feeding the results to her long neglected libido. Overlong, dark hair that curled around his ears, straight nose over a strong slash of a mouth with lips that made her think wanton thoughts. He was tall and lean, but with the kind of build that said power rather than skinny.
“Should I take a turn?” he asked, lips quirking in humor.
She looked up, still wide-eyed and stunned to find bright green eyes watching her. They shifted, a frown creasing his brow as she tried to bite back her gasp. There on his cheek for all the world to see was an alpha-numeric tattoo.
Fuck. Cyborg.
Instantly she started to back up, then froze her actions as information flooded in from her onboard. Not frozen by her panic when presented with one of her own kind she didn’t recognize—moreover one of her own kind operating in the open, which meant he was fleet property—it had started to analyze him from the toes up.
Class unknown. Alpha-numeric sequence not on file, not within zodiac project references. Theorize experimental class or civilian prototype.
“Hey, hey…it’s okay.” He put his hands out, the gesture obviously intended to be soothing as he walked toward her. His whole manner was like someone trying to calm a wild animal that might take off at any point.
“You’re a—” Her gaze flicked from his eyes to the tattoo and back again. She swallowed and let her apprehension show. Slamming mental shields in place, she powered down her nonessential functions to conserve energy in case she needed to fight her way free. The scared human act was her last and best line of defense as her onboard fed her possible moves to incapacitate him and escape vectors from the room.
He reached her, looming over her in a way that should have had her backing up further to stay out of range but had her thinking dirty thoughts about what he’d look like without the jacket and black shirt he wore. The hollow at the base of his throat, just above the open collar of his shirt, drew her attention. She trembled, the temptation to step into his body and explore that little indentation with her tongue all but overwhelming her.
“Cyborg? No.”
His voice, deep and hypnotic, wound around her, casting a spell she was powerless to resist as she looked up. Hell, he was big. A thrill shivered through her, leaving her feeling feminine, and sort of delicate even though she was anything but. A Virgo class, she was built to work in a combat team alongside other cyborgs, and although she wasn’t as hardy as the traditionally male classes, she could still play chicken with a shuttle and come out the winner.
A frown hit her as she reached out, her fingertips delicate as she stroked the mark under his eye. Her onboard screamed at her to get away from him, to run as far and fast as she could, but she ignored it.
“Why this…?” Oh great, now she was reduced to incomplete sentences. He didn’t seem to care, capturing her hand and swallowing it in his. His thumb rubbed over her pulse as he studied her.
“Plus five percenter,” he murmured, giving the name for those with over the allowed five percent cybernetics, his expression fascinated as he looked down at her. “Experimental tech, not military. I’m not going to follow you and murder you in your bed, so don’t worry. Who are you?”
She tilted her head, using her implants to stimulate her heartbeat so it thudded in her chest, mimicking a woman on the edge of panic. She wasn’t stupid, there was no way he wasn’t using that thumb to check her heart rate.
“Depends who’s asking.”
“Baiting the tiger, sweetheart. Can be a dangerous game…you sure you want to go there with me?”
He grinned, the expression swift with an edge of danger that sent a spike of arousal through her body right to her p**sy. Heat slipped from her, dampening her panties and making her all but squirm on the spot. Ruthlessly, she schooled her reactions in favor of returning his look with a challenge of her own.
Fuck, with a voice like that she’d go anywhere with him. As long as there was a bed, or a horizontal surface…hell, she’d even go for it up against a wall if they got some privacy.
“Tiger?” She arched an eyebrow, noting that despite the latent strength she sensed in his hand, his hold was gentle, as though he feared bruising her. If only he knew. She could probably twist him into a pretzel without breaking a sweat. “Sure you don’t mean kitten?”
His eyes widened slightly, a split-second burst of surprise in his eyes. Yanking on her hand, he pulled her up flush against his lean body. With a gasp, she spread her free hand over the hardness of his chest, her movements frozen as his lips hovered a millimeter away from hers.
“Oh, I like you already.”
The words were soft puffs against her lips, making her ache. He was going to kiss her, he had to kiss her. She didn’t care that they were in the middle of the station security office, or that they had an audience. All she cared about was the man sliding his free hand around her waist and whether or not his lips were going to meet hers.
“Let’s try this again. I’m Quinn Lindsey, you are…?”
Fucked.
Every cell in her body froze, her system locking up in panic for a second before she forced herself to relax. Of all the people in the universe to get into a near lip lock with, she had to run into Lindsey. A space-faring Witchfinder General, he was known to hunt everything from intergalactic crime lords, cross-system terrorists and pirates. His passion for bring them to justice was unparalleled, matched only by his hatred for one other group.
Cyborgs.
She was screwed, six ways to Sunday.
“Late,” she replied, trying not to tremble at the feeling of his hard body against hers. “Could you let me go, Mr. Lindsey? I need to be somewhere—” Anywhere. “And I don’t want to be late.”
He didn’t let go, his fingers somehow slipping under her top and tracing sensual circles over the skin of her back.
“You’re scared. There’s no need to be, I don’t bite.” He grinned suddenly. “Not unless you want me to.”
“Let me go.” She pushed at his chest, careful not to reveal her enhanced strength. He didn’t budge, a small quirk on his lips that said her efforts amused him.
“Have dinner with me and I will.”
Dinner. With him. Cyn couldn’t have concealed her surprise even if she’d wanted to. Dropping her hand, she gawked up at him. The Cyborg hunter, Lindsey, wanted to have dinner with her? If he knew what she was, he wouldn’t want to take her out, he’d want to watch as she was dismantled. Slowly.