Caught in Amber (24 page)

“It doesn’t matter.” He limped over and touched his forehead to hers. “Not at all.”

She nodded again, his words making it difficult to speak around the lump in her throat. A sudden wave of nausea and dizziness hit her and she swayed on her feet. “The—the amber he gave me. It’s not like the regular stuff.”

“I know.” Nathan helped her lay down and fished in his pocket. The comm he took out didn’t look like his, but the way her head swam she couldn’t be sure. Hell, she couldn’t be sure it was a comm at all. “I’ll call a medic,” he said as he kneeled beside her. “Stay with me, Sasha.”

She closed her eyes and smiled despite the overwhelming urge to throw up. “I will.” She took a breath. “You came back for me,” she whispered. “You saved me.”

She felt his hand on the side of her face and pressed her cheek into his palm.

“Of course I did.” His voice was hoarse, fading as the amber seized her. “Just like you saved me.”

Chapter Eighteen

The elevator doors opened onto the stark white halls of SecMed, the secured fifth floor of the Colonial Medical Center operated by the Corrections Department. Sterling took a breath of the antiseptic-tinged air. He hated hospitals. Spent too much time in them when he’d lost his eye as a boy. Paced for too many hours at his father’s bedside as the stubborn old man refused mind-and body-numbing meds that would only prolong the inevitable.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Sterling’s boot soles sounded loud on the tile as he stepped toward the guard station. Three halls angled away from the elevator and station. Nothing but a murmur from the guard’s monitors interrupted the subdued atmosphere. He didn’t know how many Corrections patients occupied the floor; he only cared about one. Sasha would have been on one of the regular floors if it wasn’t for her parole status.

He unclipped the visitor’s ID from the lapel of his jacket and passed it over the waist-high security desk. The guard knew he was coming up, knew of everyone expected to step out of the single elevator. Strict regulations on visitors and duration made it impossible to drop in on SecMed patients.

The guard ran the card through his desktop reader, compared what he saw on the screen to Sterling’s face, nodded and handed it back. “Any combustible, corrosive or illicit materials, Agent Sterling?”

Sterling smiled as he affixed the badge on his jacket. He reached into the sling supporting his right arm and withdrew a small square box. “Just some honey cakes.”

The man grinned, but didn’t lose his professional demeanor. “Weapons or restraining devices?”

All weapons, save those of the guards, were prohibited on this floor. The main security station downstairs scanned everyone coming or going, but the guard had to ask anyway. Did they think someone sneaking a weapon in would own up to it when screened a second time?

“No.” Sterling tucked the package back into his sling.

“It’s getting close to the end of visiting hours, sir,” the guard said. “I’ll buzz when they’re over.”

Sterling nodded his thanks and strode to Sasha’s room. He knocked, waited for her response, then opened the door.

Unadorned white walls and monitor screens would have made the room sterile and unapproachable if it wasn’t for the person sitting up in the narrow bed. Wearing a blue-flowered hospital gown, she smiled, and his body heated. Hooked up to monitors and sporting a cut lip, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Nathan,” she said, holding her left arm out to him. Her right arm, like his, was in a sling, still mending from the pulser hits. Nerve regeneration was slow going, and it would be another two weeks of treatment and physical therapy before either of them had consistent motor control.

Sterling crossed to her and took her warm hand as he bent to kiss her cheek, resisting the urge to climb into bed with her. She was still recovering, and the shadows under her eyes told him she was too tired for a long visit, let alone something more than a kiss.

He straightened, and she cocked an eyebrow at him. “That’s all I get?”

Swallowing hard, he released her and reached into his sling to bring out the box. “I have honey cakes, too.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Nice, but not what I meant.” She grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him down to her.

Sterling dropped the box on the white blanket. Their mouths met, lips parted. Her tongue swept over his. He wrapped his free hand around hers to keep from caressing her through the thin gown. She twisted the wool in her fist and moaned. The sound shot straight to his groin. Apparently she was feeling a lot better than she seemed.

“Sorry,” she said, easing him away a little to catch her breath.

Reluctantly, he loosened her hand from his lapel and touched the backs of her fingers to his lips. Less satisfying but more appropriate, under the circumstances. He couldn’t wait for circumstances to change. Holding her hand, he sat on the edge of the bed. “You won’t hear me complaining, but let’s not overdo it just yet.”

“Medicos say I can get out tomorrow if my numbers keep dropping.” She eyed the box of cakes on her lap then gave him a sheepish grin. “Do you mind?”

Sterling chuckled. He held the box still while she set to work opening the seal. Sasha removed one of the mini confections and bit into it. Her eyes closed in appreciation. She opened her eyes and offered the other half of the cake to him. He took a small bite.

“The craving for sweets should diminish over time,” she said, finishing the treat. “The toxbots need the fuel, but they’re short-lived, so I shouldn’t have to feed them much longer.”

When Sasha was brought in three days ago, the medicos had to improvise a counter-measure against Christiansen’s new amber formula. The standard antidote was ineffective unless given within thirty minutes of ingestion, anyway, and it had no impact on the amber coursing through Sasha’s system. A shot of nanos designed to cleanse the blood and tissues in cases of extreme heavy-metal toxicity seemed to be working, but the bugs required an increase in available fuel or they’d start eating away at the patient’s body.

On the plus side, it gave the medicos another avenue to explore for amber counter-measures. When other manufacturers started changing the formula, and Sterling had no doubt they would, the medicos would need all the help they could get to keep up.

“How was your visit with Jules?”

Sasha bit into a second cake. She swallowed and said, “Very nice. Thank you for getting her on the approved list. I told her she should take my job at the market.”

Sterling felt his eyebrows stretch toward his hairline. “Think she’ll do it?”

“Doubtful. She likes to dance too much. But she’s grateful you were able to get her out of the halfway house and into a better flat.” Sasha leaned toward him and placed a light kiss on his mouth. She tasted like honey. “And so am I. Thank you. Again.”

He gave her fingers a squeeze. “I should do these good deeds more often.”

Sasha laughed, and he smiled. God, she was gorgeous when her eyes lit up like that. Making her happy filled him with a contentment he’d never felt before.

“How’s Kylie?”

“Getting better,” Sterling said. He had tried to get Sasha admitted to the same private facility his sister attended, but her parole status forced her to come here. Sasha didn’t seem nearly as perturbed by it as he was. “I spoke to her this afternoon. She sends her love.”

Sasha waved the cake at him. “Send her a box of these from me.” She popped the last bit into her mouth.

Someone knocked on the door then entered without waiting for a response. Still seated, Sterling turned. A harried-looking woman in white scrubs, carrying a handheld, let the door swing shut behind her. “Miss James.” She frowned at Sterling. “Agent Sterling.”

He nodded as she approached the bed. “Doctor Clark.”

Sasha’s fingers tensed and grew cold in his hand. She’d said the concentration of amber in her system was dropping. Was there something else going on that she wasn’t telling him?

Clark stood on the other side of the bed and consulted her comm. “The amber in your system is nearly gone, so we’ll discontinue the toxbot treatment. But...” At her hesitation, Sasha’s hand closed around his. “The nanos generated and maintained by your offender chip are either defective or damaged. It needs to be replaced.”

Sterling felt her fingernails dig into his flesh. “Replaced?” She turned fear-filled eyes on him. “Nathan?”

Before he could offer any words of comfort, Clark tapped her handheld, oblivious to the emotions of her patient. “You’re to report to the Corrections building within a week of your release for rechipping. If you fail to report, a warrant will be issued for your arrest and incarceration.” She gazed down at the screen. “Huh. I guess your Level Two parole status allows a certain amount of trust, or they would have held you here until they were ready to come by and get you themselves.” Clark shrugged and tapped again. “You’ll be given complete instructions when you’re discharged tomorrow. Have a good evening.”

With barely a glance at either of them, the doctor turned on her heel and left.

Sterling and Sasha stared at the door as it slowly swung closed. In his hand, her fingers trembled. She swallowed several times. When she looked up at him, her eyes were wide with dread, the dark circles under them like bruised fruit. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.

His heart dropped. He’d promised to get her chip deactivated, and he wasn’t about to break that promise. Leaning forward, he kissed the corner of one eye then the next, tasting the salt of her tears.

“I’ll take care of it.”

* * *

Two days after her discharge, Sasha and Nathan entered the front doors of the building shared by the Colonial Departments of Justice and Corrections in the heart of Pandalus. Narrow panels flanking the door housed the security scanner every visitor was required to pass through. Two human guards stood nearby, with their hands resting casually on the butts of their pulsers.

Nathan held up his CMA ID to the reader and the guards. The reader beeped acceptance. The guards nodded. Sasha had her ID in hand, but before she could hold it up, the scanner beeped. Like the door at the halfway house, it had read the chip in her neck. One guard nodded again, but there was a glint of wariness in his eyes.

She put her ID away. Did the scanner say she was supposed to get rechipped? Or did they always act so suspicious of parolees?

“Nathan,” she whispered as he led her away. She half expected the guards to call to them, to stop them and drag her back to the NCRC.

“It’s all right.” He placed his left hand at the small of her back to guide her to the bank of elevators. He always treated her with genteel manners befitting the son of Revivalist ranchers. It was something she was happily getting used to and hoped she could continue to enjoy for a while.

He swiped his ID over the panel beside the elevator, and the door opened. Several other people entered the car behind them. Nathan tapped floor icons as they were called out.

Standing side by side, he laid his left arm around her shoulder, leaned closer and whispered, “Ready?”

Sasha smiled and whispered back, “I’ve been ready for over four years.”

The elevator stopped at the third floor and they made their way out. Justice and Corrections employees passed them in the hall, barely acknowledging the existence of the couple walking together. Nathan turned down a side hall and stopped at a door marked Offender ID Tech Support.

Sasha practically vibrated with nervous tension. What if the tech couldn’t deactivate it? What if something went wrong and the nanos fried her brain or killed her?

“Here we go.” He grinned at her, knocked twice and opened the door.

Behind a high table, a dark-haired man in his early forties sat surrounded by bits and pieces of electronic debris. He tapped a handheld while reading the screen of a device on the table. Nathan closed the door behind them and cleared his throat. The man looked up, smiled.

“Hey there, Sterling. Glad to see you aren’t dead.”

Nathan reached across the table and shook the man’s hand with his left. “That makes two of us.”

“Three of us,” Sasha added.

The tech laughed. “You must be Sasha. I’m Mickelson. Nice job taking out Christiansen.”

Sasha’s smile faltered. She didn’t feel bad about killing Guy, not really, but it wasn’t something she wanted praise for either. “He was going to kill Nathan.”

“He wasn’t the first one to try, and probably won’t be the last.” He looked at Nathan. “Natalia told me you managed to shut down Christiansen’s operation in damn near one afternoon. How did you do something the entire Department couldn’t for the past seven years?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” Nathan shrugged, nonchalant.

He’d told Sasha of Kylie being dropped off by Genevieve Caine—who promptly vanished, as far as anyone could tell—and Natalia rounding up Justice Department agents to swarm the warehouse. That branch of Christiansen’s operation was finished. Kilos of drugs had been confiscated, and the warehouse grounds and electronics were being scrutinized. There was talk of keeping Christiansen’s death hushed, starting a rumor that he’d gone into hiding so the JD could take over as a front for sting operations. Having a foothold in the amber trade would be a huge advantage for the department.

The unintended success of his unauthorized mission didn’t, however, preclude Nathan from the wrath of his superiors, even with the visual evidence he’d collected in his eye’s recorder. An official reprimand was placed in his personnel file at the CMA. He was put on a month’s probation, coinciding with paid medical leave, and required to review and sign a copy of the CMA’s policy on interagency operations. He’d face an Internal Affairs review board in three weeks. It was still a very real possibility that he’d lose his job.

Sasha’s role was kept to a minimum. Just enough to be seen as a positive action in the eyes of the Corrections board and not require a parole status downgrade or re-incarceration.

When Sasha had expressed concern that he’d risked his career as well as his life, he had shrugged, said something about people he cared about being more important to him than any damn job, then made love to her. Carefully and creatively, as their right arms were less than useful.

Sasha found herself grinning and her body warming at the memory while Mickelson rummaged around in one of the drawers beneath the table.

Her white knight. Who would have thought?

“So, let’s get this taken care of,” Mickelson said as he pulled out a tool kit. “Have a seat on the stool there.”

Nathan took her coat and she sat.

While Mickelson checked his kit, she asked, “Are you the only one here?”

“Pretty much,” he said. “I float from department to department. Go where they need me. Budget cuts are a bitch. The other tech is out doing field tests for me. Figured we wouldn’t want her around.”

Nathan laid his hand on her knee. “He’s the best in the business and a friend. You’re in good hands.”

“Ah! Here it is.” Mickelson came around and set his tool kit and a sealed red and white plastic packet on the table behind him. “Now, just turn your head to the right. A little more. There. Stay still. This will be over in a minute.”