Girl From Above #4: Trust (3 page)

“
Te echo de menos,
” she growled, making whatever that meant sound like a threat. Maybe it was. I just knew it flicked all my remaining switches to raging-on.

A little adjustment—sand and dust burned—some fumbling, and then I found the rhythm.

She clung on, one hand clamped on my ass while her other arm clutched at my back, and held me so damn close I could feel her heart thudding in her chest. Her breath hissed against my cheek. Harder. Faster. Deeper. I forgot about the ship, the explosives,
Starscream
, revenge, the Nine. But not One. I’d never forget her. Her brilliant eyes, her sharp intelligence, and the sweet innocence hidden inside the killer’s instinct.

The need built, pleasure cresting. I tried to hold it back, to slow it, and pulled out to circle my finger over Fran’s clit before I lost control. She groaned, deep and low, hissing in Spanish. She wasn’t the same Fran I’d heard working over Turner. She was harder, more brutal and raw. Her body locked and arched. She let out a cry. I kissed her fast before we drew too much attention and sank two fingers deep inside her cunt, feeling her clench.

Her hand found my cock crushed between us, slick and ready. She curled her fingers around me. I lasted a monumental three fucking seconds before blowing my load. Hips twitching and pleasure stalling so high it hurt, I slumped against her, grateful for the wall.

Slowly, the sounds of the market filtered back in. Murmurs, rattling carts, the occasional bark of laughter. Reality. This was usually the part where I said the wrong thing, she slapped me, we traded insults, and then she fucked off to plot my imminent death.
It might just have been worth it.

“Don’t you feel ready to go steal that harrier now?” Fran asked, green eyes flashing.

I gripped her jaw and kissed her slow, teasing her with my tongue, my mouth. It was a kiss with more emotional weight behind it than I’d have liked. A real kiss, one meant for more than a quick, dirty fuck in a filthy alley. A kiss shared in moments that didn’t get forgotten. A promise, and maybe a piece of my heart. I realized
that
too late.

She broke first and turned her face away, toward the market, then kept her gaze there, anywhere but on me.

An unexpected jab of rejection spiked in my chest. I shoved off her, wiped my wet hand on my pants and tucked my junk away. By the time I lifted my face, any sign of how her rejection had wormed its way through my defenses had vanished from my face.

I am a pinche idiota
if I ever believed she’d feel anything real for me.

Maybe it had never been that she was too good for me. Maybe it had always been that I was worthless, just like Dad had told me with each lash of the belt.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.
This was why I never opened up. Why I never dared to ask for more.

“That’ll be thirty credits.” I pinned a wooden grin to my lips. She wouldn’t know the difference.

She finished straightening her clothes and hood and shrugged. “I’ll pay you in explosives.”

Then she turned away and headed out into the market.

I watched her go. Her hips swayed, she’d thrown her shoulders back, and she held her head up. I’d just been used and thrown away. And I felt it too. When had all this shit started meaning something? When had it started hurting? I dragged a hand down my face to shake off the unclean sinking feeling and winced at the smell of sex on my fingers.
Focus. Get back to the Nine. Forget this ever happened.

Worthless.

Without
Starscream,
I was nothing, just another fucking loser with nothing and nobody.

Nah, I was worth at least thirty credits.

I lifted my hood and trailed after Fran.

A
cool breeze
whispered across my naked body. Sterile surfaces. Clean. Sharp. Bright, cutting lights.
Chitec.

My processes skipped. Fear lashed through me in a way I’d later study.

“One?”

Brendan. Friend.
He looks worried. Armed: electric pulser pistol.
Threat level: moderate.

Why was he in a Chitec facility?

“I did everything I could. If she’s not there, then we’ve lost her …” I slid my gaze to Doctor James Lloyd, his voice fading beneath the drumming in my head. He continued to speak quickly, hands flitting and fluttering. When he looked at Bren, pride bloomed on his face, but Bren was watching me, not Doctor Lloyd. Heat throbbed through my chest. Doctor James Lloyd had smothered me inside of myself. He’d killed me, or tried to. But he wasn’t a threat now. It would almost be too easy to kill Doctor Lloyd. There were many ways I could end his life.

I waited for the errors to burst inside my vision, to tell me this wasn’t right, but none came.

Bren’s eyes—so like Caleb’s—narrowed, and he saw the intention on my face. “Don’t!”

I lunged, found Bren in my path, snatched hold of his arm and twisted it, and him, around, forcing him aside. He barked a cry at the same time as something jolted in his arm.

Bren was a good person. I wasn’t.

I slammed into Lloyd and drove him back against the wall. Thrusting my hand under his chin, I held him still, eye to eye. “You are my enemy, Doctor Lloyd.”

“One!” Bren yelled.

Doctor Lloyd stuttered and clawed at my fingers. He wouldn’t get free. He’d never be free again. I placed my other hand over his mouth and nose and pushed.

“You killed me.” Removing my hand from his neck, I roamed it lower and settled it against his chest. His heart beat hard, throbbing warm blood through his vulnerable body. I spread my fingers and pushed into him, compressing his lungs. “In approximately three minutes, you will die.”

He shook his head. Red veins fractured the whites of his eyes. Color flushed his cheeks. I could break his neck and make it quick, but he hadn’t offered me the same courtesy. No, Doctor Lloyd would suffer the way I had. He would see death stalking him.

“You will die, James Lloyd,” I said. “And you will not come back.”

“One …” Bren’s warm hand rested on my bare shoulder. Warmth seeped through my new skin and delivered a sense of comfort. “Look at me.”

If I look at him, he will stop me. I am One and I will not be stopped.

“One, we need him. He’s an asset.”

“I do not care.”

“He remade you. He brought you back. He knows what he did was wrong. Please, One. You aren’t like the others, remember? You have a choice. You can choose not to be a killer.”

Pain quivered through Bren’s words. I tilted my head to appraise him. So like his brother, but prouder, harder, more refined. Brendan Shepperd had his strengths as Caleb had his, but the commander’s were subtle and poised.

I’d broken his arm.

Threat level: nominal.

His eyes pleaded with me.

Lloyd’s heart was failing. It wouldn’t be long now.

“I choose to kill this man.” I smiled at the doctor and loosened my grip enough to allow him to gasp. “What are your last words, Doctor Lloyd?”

His trembles travelled down my arm and tickled my senses. Bren wasn’t entirely correct. I was like the others. I was made to kill.

“I-I brought you back,” Lloyd stammered. “I made you again.”

I blinked and leaned in close against the young doctor. “No, I brought me back. The synthetic Chen Hung made me.”

The synthetic Chen Hung made me: truth.

The doctor’s racing heart skipped. Bren stepped closer.

“One, explain,” he ordered.

I wet my lips and pulled the truth forward. It came easily and balanced on my tongue, waiting to be freed. “Chen Hung is a synthetic.”

A flush of relief washed over me, so potent and so freeing that I dropped the doctor and stumbled back.

“Chen Hung isn’t real.” I swung my gaze to Bren and saw the surprise on his face.
Yes, hear my words. Hear my curse. Hear me.
“He’s a synthetic. At his heart, a power core fuels him. He made me. He controls Chitec. He controls the synthetics. They will attack. This is the truth I couldn’t speak.”

Relief—so pure, so exquisite—lifted off my mind.
The truth is free
.

“He’s a s-synthetic?” Lloyd spluttered. “He has control of the entire nine systems?”

I curled my fingers into a fist and leveled my sights on Doctor Lloyd. A single punch to the throat would be enough to kill him. His strength was in his mind, not his body.

“Chen Hung created me. I am not like the others. I do have a choice. And I choose to kill you, Doctor Lloyd.” I made it a step before Bren fired the pulser, plunging me into an icy void.

Trust. I couldn’t trust any of them. I didn’t even trust myself.

Killing is never a viable option,
James had told me. He’d lied. They’d all lied. These people weren’t my friends.

I am not like them. I am One.

“
D
o
you think they’ll fire on us?” Fran asked.

We approached the storm that wasn’t a storm, but an enormous ship the size of a city hidden inside Mimir’s churning clouds. I’d tapped in the secure code that should tell the Nine we were friendly, but they weren’t likely to appreciate a Cande harrier knocking on their door.

“We’ll find out,” I replied, shifting in the overly padded flight chair and adjusting the harrier’s trajectory. I didn’t want to come in too aggressively.

My pirate disguise had started to chafe in all the wrong places, not helped by the stench of iron dust and sweat. My only consolation was that Fran looked as uncomfortable as I felt. We’d jumped a patrol back on KP92, stripped them of their pirate gear so we could slip by the dock guards, and stolen the Candes’ ship. Fran’s codes had been good. She’d smiled all the way into the black.

A chime sounded. The harrier’s unfamiliar flightdash was aglow with touch displays, blinking lights, readouts, and all manner of sparkly tech. The modern harrier made
Starscream
look like a trashcan, and while I could just about fly her, all the extra bells and whistles made me feel hopelessly inadequate.

The chime sounded again.

“It’s nothing,” Fran said, flicking one of the many switches to silence the warning. “The Nine are scanning us. Not hostile. They’re taking a peek is all.”

“You can tell that from one alert?”

Her lips quirked. “These birds are a lot easier to fly than
Starscream
, Captain. You just gotta speak her language.”

All the fancy shit worked too. Nothing bitched or flagged warnings. There was even a smooth female voice telling me when I’d tapped in an error or fucked up some other instruction. Just what I needed: another mouthy female telling me what to do. I missed
Starscream
.

“She doesn’t have
Starscream’s
heart though,” Fran added softly, clearly thinking along the same lines as me.

My ship. Fuck.
Turner wasn’t wrong. Losing her had been like losing a part of me. I couldn’t think too hard about it or the walls started closing in. No ship. No future.

I turned my gaze toward the storm as it swallowed us down. Lightning bloomed inside the churning gray clouds. The harrier rode it without a glitch, and a few minutes later, the storm spat us free, revealing the sparkling mass of a ship so vast it blotted out the sky and stretched toward the horizon. From what they’d told me during my first visit, the Island was comprised of seven vast craft carriers, interlocked and operated as one supership. I’d have said it was impossible if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

Besides that, the Nine hadn’t told me much of anything—yet. But they would. Especially after we’d doubled the required amount of explosives, filling the harrier’s hold, without paying a single credit for it.

Shuttles buzzed about the Island like flies. Below, the downwash stirred up the ocean, lifting water vapor into the air. The ship’s electrical field turned the vapor into a never-ending lightning storm.

“Unidentified Harrier One-Three-Five, we’ve received secure codes, but please confirm personal identities,” a deep male voice demanded.

I flicked the comms to open. “Captain Shepperd and his second, Francisca Olga.”

There was a brief pause while the Nine’s comms-jockey ran my voice through the ID filters. “Captain Shepperd, we were expecting you in a different vessel.”

I briefly explained about our change of plans and confirmed we’d stripped the harrier of any trackers. They scanned us again and granted us landing clearance on the Island’s southern-most dock.

“I’ll go ready the cargo,” Fran said, unclipping her belt, and headed for the rear of the bridge.

I eased the harrier down onto the docking pad, engaged her umbilical, and sat for a while, listening to the bird settle and sigh. She didn’t creak like
Starscream.
That creaking had frightened the fuck out of anyone unfortunate enough to fly with me, my brother included.

I lit up the comms once more. “Traffic control. Has Brendan Shepperd reported back?”

“Yes, Captain. He’s logged as on-board. Would you like me to hail his comms?”

My heart did an odd little stutter. Not for Bren, but for what his return might mean.

“No.” I didn’t want the whole of traffic control overhearing anything about One. “Did he bring anyone—anything with him?”

“You’ll have to speak to your senior.”

He was here. That had to be good. He wouldn’t have returned without One.

“Acknowledged.” I cut the link and sighed through my nose. I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear what had happened to One, so I turned my thoughts to the harrier and her array of controls. Sure, she was a fine piece of technology, but where was her character?

I left the seat, tucked my thumbs into my pockets, and bounced my attention around the empty bridge. I’d always wanted a warbird. The fact my brother had captained one needled me to no end, and yet, standing on the bridge of the Candes warbird, I couldn’t wait to leave.

“You can’t manufacture soul.”

Starscream
was gone. I heaved a weary sigh and headed off the bridge.

Outside, wind and sea spray battered and lashed the elevated dock. I tucked my chin against my chest and hurried out of the elements.

Fran and me were processed through various scanners until I was sure the operators had seen parts of me I didn’t know I had, and then they ushered us through the color-coded labyrinth of levels and corridors.

I glanced at Fran a few times. She hadn’t said much since we’d stolen the harrier. She clearly had her own shit to deal with. Turner’s betrayal must have cut her, but then, he was a crazy Candelario. I might have asked her to talk it out, but it wasn’t as though we cared for each other, so why fucking bother with conversation? Her silence could also have had something to do with me pushing her for my thirty credits. If she was going to demand a fuck and then shut me down, I was going to charge. She was just another job that needed fixing. That’s what I told myself and I was sticking with it.

The old bird Sonya greeted us at the south assembly area, a deceptive smile on her wrinkled face. I’d met Sonya on a Mimir dock with a rifle in my hand and a whole load of questions on my lips. It would’ve been easy to like her—she had that warmth some folks radiated, the kind that drew others to them—but I wasn’t buying it. I didn’t trust easily, and all I’d seen from the Nine so far was their impressive operation. As shiny and well oiled as it all appeared, I knew the prettiest, most organized things almost always had a fuckload of chaos behind the scenes.

“There’s been a development,” Sonya said. “You’ll be pleased to hear Doctor Lloyd survived.”

Fuck
, I’d hoped my brother might have found the balls to beat the shit out of the Doc. He deserved a lot worse.

“He’s here?” I tried to keep the growl out of my voice and failed.

“Yes.”

My fingers reflexively twitched into a fist
.
“And the synthetic unit?”

My heart thudded too fucking hard.

“That’s the development. Please follow me and I’ll brief you.”

“Perhaps we could shower first?” Fran asked. We’d left red footprints trailing down the passageway behind us, and now that she mentioned it, she reeked of metal and sweat, which meant I probably did too.

“All right.” Sonya turned to me. “Half an hour?”

“Do you have the synthetic?” I asked.

“Yes.” Sonya smiled, but worry tightened her brow. “Much has changed in your absence.”

“Can I see her?” Shit, I’d sounded needy. I coughed, clearing my throat.

“It might be best if you clean up—”

“I’d like to see her now.”

Sonya lifted her chin. The shrewd old bat was probably wondering about my connection to One and why she mattered to me. “Very well. Follow me.”

Fran tossed me a loose salute and left the assembly area, trailing dust in her wake.

I attempted to glean more information from Sonya as we strode down the corridors, but she was tight-lipped the entire walk to the residential section. If #1001, the synthetic, was functional, there was a chance Lloyd, or someone, could bring One back. Fuck, I’d make Lloyd do it. Stand over him with a gun if I had to. I couldn’t break his fingers, he needed those, but there were other ways. Whatever it took.

I spotted Bren up ahead, leaning an arm against the wall. He straightened as we approached and kept his face measured and reserved. Was that good or bad? I spotted a discreet arm sling and gave my brother a questioning look.

He started to speak but stopped when my attention wandered through a window to the naked synthetic unit inside a residential cabin. She was sitting rod-straight on the end of a bed, facing away. Red scars snapped and danced up her back like frozen, angry lightning. She’d been perfect, and the mob had torn her apart.

I ground my teeth, fighting the restless urge to lash out. “Where are her clothes?”

Sonya blinked at me like the question was absurd. “She’s a synthetic unit—”

I scowled back and jerked my chin at my brother. He was quick to understand and shrugged off his jacket, the action made all the more difficult by the sling.

“She’s volatile,” he said, holding out the coat and awkwardly shifting his wounded arm. The synth had done that to him.

I snatched his jacket. “Is she One?”

“Yes, we’re certain, given the things she’s had to say, but … she almost killed Lloyd.” He stepped forward as I reached for the door. “She’s dangerous, Caleb-Joe. Be very careful.”

I’d be fucking dangerous too if they’d shut me naked in a room with Doc Lloyd. “Does she know where she is?”

Bren averted his eyes, turning his attention to the room. “I hadn’t thought to ask.”

He was afraid of her, and gauging from Sonya’s artfully blank expression, so was she. Maybe if they’d tried talking to her like a person, she wouldn’t have lashed out.

I shook my head at them and opened the door. One didn’t move as I stepped inside. I engaged the lock with a swipe and then caught my reflection in the window. The wild man of KP92 stared back at me. I even had a touch of the
Cande-crazy
in my eyes. I hadn’t shaved in a while, and my hair stuck out at odd angles, matted with grit. Ah well. I figured One would know me by more than just sight.

Bren and Sonya blinked back at me, waiting to see if One tried to tear my arms out of their sockets.

I turned away from them and found my gaze tracing the scars cutting up One’s back. It would have hurt, what they did to her. Not physically, she could shut that physical pain out, but you don’t get to shut out emotional wounds. Those cut the deepest and took a whole lot longer to heal.

“Hey,” I croaked.

No movement. She stared at the opposite door, probably the bathroom. I cleared my throat and glanced at Sonya and Bren on the other side of the window. Bren nodded. Apparently he had faith in his little brother.

“You know who I am?” I spoke up, trying not to croak this time.

“Yes.” A simple reply. For all its smooth sound and perfect pitch, it could have been an automated answer.

I shook out Bren’s jacket and approached the bed. “I’m going to wrap this around your shoulders. I’m not a threat, okay? It’s just me.”

“You smell like blood and sex.”

Shit, I should have showered.
“I had to fix something for the Nine. Do you remember them?”

“Yes. I killed them.” Slowly, she turned her head. “There are more.”

Her silvery hair skimmed the tops of her fine shoulders and her brilliant blue eyes widened. A scar ran ragged from her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, across her cheek, and down her chin. I fought the urge to look away. I remembered all too well how I’d seen half her face disintegrate in front of me. Lloyd must have put her back together again. It was fine work, miraculous really, but her smooth Chitec perfection was gone.

“Caleb.” She smiled and something slightly uncomfortable but equally thrilling sparked alive in my chest. “You came.”

I eased the jacket around her shoulders, hoping she didn’t notice how my hands trembled. She pulled Bren’s coat tight around her, and that thing in my chest warmed, making me want to take her in my arms and crush her close. I had no idea what to do or say. I wanted to believe we were the same, both okay, but so much had happened. She’d killed people. It might not have been her, her coding or whatever made her tick had gone haywire, but it didn’t change what she’d done. Was she still the same One, or was she different now?

“Do you remember what I told you I do when I get scared?” I asked, easing around so I could crouch in front of her, bringing us level.

She blinked and drank in the sight of me. I tried to smile, but I doubted it looked like anything more than a twitch across my lips.

“Do you remember, One?”

“I tried to count the stars, but there were none.”

The hopeful warmth twisted into a sharp jolt of pain. I’d fucking kill Lloyd for this. But she remembered. She was One. Damaged, clearly, but definitely One. I rolled my lips together, hiding the quiver, and touched her face. My fingers left red smudges on her smooth cheek. Her eyes flicked about my face, probably reading every fucking thing in my expression, my racing heart, my clenched teeth, and my pointless attempt at hiding it all inside.

She leaned into my hand, brushing her cheek against my touch, and closed her eyes. She’d chase the data. Doc Lloyd had told me she liked to be touched. The thought of that lying bastard touching her tied my already squirming insides in knots. Me and him would have some quality time alone, during which I’d introduce him to my knuckles, repeatedly.

“You fear for me, but you’re not afraid of me.” Her eyes opened and targeted me. “You’re angry and afraid. I know these feelings. I had hoped if I killed Doctor Lloyd, the anger would pass.”

“Yeah, you’d think. But it doesn’t work like that.”

I lowered my hand, reluctant to let her go. What I really wanted to do was throw my arms around her, but we had an audience and she might not appreciate my filthy, ragged self anywhere near her.