Ultimate Warriors (36 page)

     
Suddenly,
the bus jolted to a stop. Nikandros flew forward, flipping over, off her body.
They were in the city, next to an abandoned bus stop. Silk didn’t wait. She
rolled off the side and disappeared into the night. When Nikandros sat back up,
he gripped his computer in his hand and watched the last fluttering of her
cape.

     
"We
will meet again, Silk," he swore, his body flowing with a potent,
animalistic hunger. His hair was tousled from the windy ride.

     
As he
rolled over the side, the bus passengers gasped to see him. They hadn’t heard a
thing while in the soundproofed interior.

     
Clearing
his throat, Nikandros smoothed his hair and patted down his clothes. Giving the
onlookers a crooked smile, he shrugged and stated, "Almost missed the
bus."

* * * *

     
Silk ran
until her lungs nearly exploded. The bus had taken her miles away from home.
Glowering, she reached into her pocket and grabbed a video phone. Covering the
camera lens, she called home for a ride. Minutes later, her limo pulled up to
take her back to the St. James Estate. She climbed inside before the robotic
driver could get out
to open
her door.

     
Pulling
off her mask, Quinlan frowned. Her hair was matted to her head from her
excursion. What was Nick Grant doing at Dr. Nathaniel’s laboratory? And what
exactly was he anyway? Who was he?

     
Thinking
of him, her body trembled. Oh, but he had felt wickedly sinful against her.
Even now she could feel the hard press of him. Quinlan was sure she’d be up for
the rest of the night feeling him in her memory.

     
Why
hadn’t she just bought a pleasure droid? She’d been tempted a few times. But in
the end she knew that, though it might soothe the ache in her body, it wouldn’t
be able to soothe the loneliness in her heart.

     
Nick
Grant was a mystery. Did he know who she was? Was their chance encounter in the
park just a coincidence? Quinlan didn’t believe in coincidences and wasn’t
about to start now. Nick was up to something, she just couldn’t figure out
what.

     
Smiling,
she thought,
But
I know how to find out.

     
Quinlan
reached to her side to pull out the handheld computer. It wasn’t there.
Cursing, her eyes narrowed. Even as she hated him, he intrigued her. It had
been a long time since anyone or anything had quickened her blood like he did
when he touched her. "Damn you, Nick Grant. If you want to play, oh, we’ll
play."

     
"This
collection is superb, Quinlan," said Henry Thompson, head of the Genetic
Science Museum. Henry was an older, balding gentleman with beady little eyes
that gave Quinlan the chills. Right now those eyes were looking over the glass
cases that lined the front hall of the castellated mansion home.

     
Musicians
played old ballroom dances--waltzes, merengues, allemandes. Some couples
danced, others strolled out into the lit gardens. Quinlan had robotic guards at
every door and several between the large main hall and her father’s laboratory.
The robots, however, were programmed to respond only to hostility so that
whoever wanted to break in would have an easy time of it. What everyone didn’t
know was that her father’s laboratory was completely empty--except for some
bogus documents she had written herself.

     
Continuing,
Henry said, "They will be a great addition to the museum’s collection.
Your father would have been proud."

     
Quinlan
smiled for the man, slowly holding up her glass of champagne. Her home was filled
with the most elite members of the scientific community--all of them clamoring
to get a look at the famous scientist’s daughter.

     
"Miss
St. James, a photograph,
please
!"

     
Quinlan
turned her back as a man pulled a camera from his jacket. A flash went off,
getting only the long line of her naked back in a sleek red silk dress. Henry
Thompson frowned as a robotic security guard grabbed the guest and forcibly
escorted him out. He stepped a little too close to Quinlan’s back, lifting his
arm to belatedly protect her from the cameraman.

     
Quinlan
pulled artfully away from Henry and kept her face pleasant as if nothing had
happened.

     
"This
collection looks incomplete. Have some of the papers been lost?" asked a
man Quinlan recognized instantly. She looked into his cool brown eyes, trying
to gauge him. There was nothing in the vacuous depths--nothing but greed and an
overabundance of pride.

     
"I’m
sorry, you are?" Quinlan asked, pretending she didn’t know.

     
"Dr.
Thomas Nathaniel," he said.

     
"Oh,"
said a woman with a shrill, grating voice. "Weren’t you the man whose home
was broken into?"

     
"My
laboratory actually," said Dr. Nathaniel.

     
"Did
they discover who?" asked the loud woman with a flick of her richly
decorated fingers.

     
"Just
a criminal in need of a microscope," he laughed pretentiously. The
surrounding group joined in. "My wife was alone at the time and didn’t see
a thing."

     
"How
dreadful for her!" gasped the
woman.

     
Quinlan
hid her face into her glass, remembering just how ‘alone’ the doctor’s wife had
been. Looking over Dr. Nathaniel’s excessively thin frame, she guessed Mrs.
Nathaniel much preferred to be alone with her Adonis model pleasure droid.

     
Quinlan
tried not to blush. She had looked him up in a catalog late the night before as
she considered buying one. Only, as she flipped through the pages, none of the
droids struck her fancy. She kept thinking of Nick Grant. A flesh and blood man
sounded much more appealing than a bloodless machine.

     
"I
worked with your father right before his death, Miss St. James," said Dr.
Nathaniel. "I don’t see some of his later projects here."

     
"You
are right, of course," Quinlan said, noticing how ears perked up at the
admission. "I didn’t think it necessary to display his incomplete works.
They are no good to anyone."

     
"But,
maybe his research could be continued," said Henry, his eyes lighting with
interest at the thought. "What better testament to your father than to see
his work finished?"

     
"My
father’s later years were spent on fanciful dreams, Dr. Thompson. I believe he
would like to be remembered for the advances he made in genetic engineering. It
is that work which I have given to the public he tried to serve," Quinlan
said. A murmur of appreciation went up from around the group and she quietly
excused herself with a gracious bow of her coiffed head.

     
"I’ve
been waiting for you to drop something all night, so that I may come to your
service, Miss St. James."

     
That
voice! Quinlan shivered, stopping mid-stride. Of all places, this is not where
she thought to see Nick again. Turning around to look at him, she affected an
air of confusion.

     
"I’m
sorry?" she asked, cocking her head to the side as she met his steady dark
eyes. "I believe you have me confused with someone else."

     
Quinlan
had to focus to keep her eyes from traveling over his deliciously formed body.
He was handsome in his dashing black tuxedo. A dark red rose, a perfect match
to her dress, was pinned on his lapel. All too well did she remember the press
of him to her body--especially into her
thighs.

     
"Quinlan,"
said Henry, eager to come to her assistance. He’d been hovering over her like a
mother hen all night. It was driving her to distraction. "May I introduce
you to Dr. Nikandros Grant?"

     
"Nikandros?"
Quinlan asked, a memory pulling at
the side of her brain. Her brows furrowed in confusion. She slowly began to
nod. "You look like your father."

     
It was
Nikandros’ turn to be surprised.
"My father?"

     
"Yes,"
Quinlan said. "He used to come around when I was a very young girl--maybe
six. I remember him because he always arrived at the oddest hours and he was so
mysterious...."

     
Nikandros
barely remembered her as the young, ratty-haired girl that would sneak into her
father’s laboratory to play with the butterflies and caterpillars. He was
surprised that she would remember him at all--er, his father at all.

     
Now
looking at her, in the stunningly sleek gown of blood red silk, he couldn’t see
the annoying youngster she had been at all. He’d almost lost himself when he
first found her from across the room. The strong lines of her bared back were
showcased in a dipping sweep of material that teased the male eyes with a full
view of her muscular lower back. A band dipped around the nape of her neck and
crossed over the base of her throat to hold the front of the gown around her
breasts. The material again swept to tease. Licking his lips, Nikandros would
bet his life she wore nothing beneath the alluring silk.

     
"I
believe my father mentioned you to me," he said gallantly. Henry eyed him
suspiciously. He didn’t like the possessive way the man stood too close to
Quinlan. "He only had nice things to say."

     
"Hum,
maybe I am thinking of the wrong man." Quinlan laughed. "The
Nikandros Grant I’m thinking about use to call me a spoiled brat. I don’t think
he cared for me at all--or the fact that I gave all my father’s butterflies
names."

     
Henry
laughed, trying to draw her attention. Quinlan felt the man take up her arm. He
was trying to lead her away from the breathtakingly handsome gentleman she was
flirting with.

     
Was she
flirting with him? Quinlan inwardly grimaced.

     
"So,
Dr. G--," she began.

     
"Please,"
Nikandros murmured in a voice that sent chills over her flesh. "Call me
Nick."

     
"All
right, Nick," she smiled up at him. Henry’s sweaty hand began to rub.
"What is this about me dropping something for you?"

     
"Ah,
you don’t remember?" he asked, affecting a properly injured disposition.
"Your wallet?
In the park a few days
ago?"

     
"Oh,
how silly of me to forget," she affected. Henry began to pull. From the
corner of her eye she saw his mouth open as if he would speak. Rushing, she
said to Nikandros, "I believe I said I owed you a dance for the
favor."

     
Nikandros
saw the pleading in her gaze and instantly smiled. He reached for her. Quinlan
gladly lifted her arm away from Henry, who was trying to think of a way to
protest. She placed her fingers in Nikandros’ offered hand. His fingers were
warmth to her flesh, very unlike the sweaty grip of the museum coordinator.
Gracefully, he placed her hand on his forearm.

     
Watching
his eyes for a sign of change, she smiled at him and sighed prettily. His eyes
stayed the same dark brown, solid and spine-tinglingly handsome. If she hadn’t
seen the shift to red for herself, she would have never believed it. She
wondered if he knew who she was. Her heart beat a little faster, thoroughly
enjoying the dangerous game.

     
"Thank
you," she murmured coyly when he had taken her out of earshot. "If I
had to stand around with those stuffy scientists and doctors any longer, I was
going to start screaming."

     
Nikandros
smiled down at her, not letting her see any of his thoughts. He had overheard
her comments about her father’s later work. It was good she didn’t have it for
public display, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t fishing for buyers.

     
When
Quinlan tried to pull away from him, his arm tightened on her hand.

     
"What
about my dance?" he said in a low tone that neared upon a growl. Nikandros
knew that seducing her would be the sweetest assignment he’d ever had and
possibly the most disastrous for both of them. It didn’t stop him as he drew
her around into his arms. Her mouth opened in surprise, as her body came near
his. She could smell the strong lure of his cologne. "I would hate to make
you a liar."

     
Quinlan
watched him carefully, intrigued. His smile was all charm--very
uncharacteristic of the man who had broken into Dr. Nathaniel’s laboratory to
borrow a microscope, and then proceeded to jump over cliffs and onto buses with
barely a scratch to show for it. She didn’t trust him. But, she was intrigued
and most assuredly aroused.