Interlocking Hearts (14 page)

Chapter Twelve

The bar was a lot more crowded than it had been yesterday. There were a few seats left at the mahogany counter. Her choices were between straddling the corner or sitting with no counter space because the napkin/orange/lemon/cherry station occupied significant real estate.

Paisley chose the lack of space. She’d have taken the bend, but she was interested in a more desirable type of wood between her legs.

While she waited for the busy bartender to notice her, she swiped a cherry and popped it in her mouth.

Luckily, it was the same bartender from yesterday afternoon. He noticed her pretty damn quick.

He tripped over the female bartender in his rush to get to Paisley. At least she’d have excellent service.

“Are you here alone?”

“Just me, myself and I. How about you hook a girl up with a drink?”

He pushed the money back to her. “It’s on me. I wrote ten thousand words between yesterday and today, and my editor made an offer on my book already. You’re my muse. Muses drink for free.”

She tucked the twenty into her bra. His eyes followed her fingers. “Then get your muse a beer. She needs one.”

He shook himself, grabbed a bottle off a waitress’s tray and put it on the counter in front of her in seconds.

“Hey!” the waitress shouted. “I’m on my way to my table.”

“I’ll bring you another,” he shouted back.

Paisley didn’t care if she got the guy in trouble. He’d gotten his rocks off and a book deal, and Paisley hadn’t even gotten laid. Her beer went down really easily after that realization.

A nice healthy buzz was a great way to make a gal forgive a man for not making a hole in one. Her brain reasoned that at least she’d gotten an orgasm out of the deal. Jon would have had to use a hand crank to finish his job.

A pink cocktail appeared in front of her eyes, and without looking up, she said, “Thanks” to the hand that gave it to her.

She didn’t think about the fact that the hand came from behind her rather than in front of her, until the voice at her ear blew her hair forward.

“Drinking alone in this bar already got you into trouble once, didn’t it? Are you hoping for a repeat performance?” A soft slow breeze raised every hair on her neck. He was blowing in her ear.

People still did that?

“If you two need some space, there’s a corner booth open,” the waitress who had just had her drink stolen told them. “And I expect a healthy tip for dealing with shenanigans under the table cloth.”

Jon put a fifty-dollar bill on her tray. “Will that do?”

“Right this way.”

Jon started to follow her, but Paisley stayed where she was.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

Oh the double entendre of it all.

“Nope. Keeping my butt right here.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like the fact that you are screwing your way through the offices for information. I like sex just as much as the next gal. More, probably. And it offends me.” She recapped her words, and they’d come out without a single slur. Score.

Jon’s eyes did some kind of strange whirly thing that distracted her for just a minute.

Paisley drank the pink drink anyway. She was doing great. Why not? “And maybe I just don’t want to have sex with you.”

The bartender had his notebook in hand as he asked, “Are you looking for a new partner?”

“Back off. She is not going anywhere but up to her own room tonight,” Jon replied for her.

Telling a woman who she can and can’t fuck was not one of Paisley’s turn-ons.

She enjoyed it when a man could take charge. It just never really happened. If a guy took charge in the bedroom, he never ended up being strong enough to keep the upper hand. Paisley wanted orgasms when she had sex, and if the guy didn’t do it for her, she took control to make damn sure she did it for herself. Life was too short to have orgasmless sex.

“Paisley, we need to discuss Coral.”

Damn. That was the one card he could play that she would respond to. Even if he was full of shit, she didn’t want to take a chance.

“You’ve got five minutes to get to a point besides the one in your pants. Otherwise I’m out.” She patted the counter to get the bartender’s attention. “Save me a seat over here.”

“Anytime,” he said.

Paisley peeked over her shoulder as she walked away, and sure enough the guy had his notebook. He was going to either write a best seller, or lose his job because he was taking notes instead of serving drinks.

The booth, as it turned out, wasn’t empty. Jon’s partner, in all things apparently, was sitting in the corner with his arms extended on each side.

Until now, he’d been a smooth-faced professional-looking guy every time she’d seen him. His hair wasn’t as glued to his head. His shirt, although still a button up, puckered at his pecs, and was not starched within an inch of its life.

The little imperfections added to his appeal. These guys were waving steak in front of a hungry animal right now. They might have gotten some nookie at the office, but Paisley was far from satiated as of late.

“Glad you talked her into visiting,” Ben said.

“She’s here to talk about Coral.” Jon told him as he pushed her into the booth.

A deep maroon table cloth covered the table. There was a basket of crunchy breadsticks in the middle and a pitcher of beer. After Jon effectively pinned Paisley between him and Ben, another pitcher filled with what looked to be margaritas on ice was delivered. The men weren’t touching her, but they were close enough that she could feel their body heat.

Margaritas wouldn’t lower her internal temperature, but she was hoping more drinks would help her care less about it. Her tolerance was too high for her own good. The way her brain was racing, she was still damn near sober. Using alcohol to temper arousal probably wasn’t the best course of action. It was the only one she had, though. She filled the salt-rimmed glass that was placed in front of her.

“Anything else, guys?” the waitress asked. She was super attentive now that the fifty was off her tray and in her pocket.

Ben shook his head as he looked at the full pitchers. “We’re good. If you don’t check on us for the next hour, I’ll double the tip.”

“Bigger tips for less work…you guys can come back anytime.”

That left Paisley pinned with no hope of escape. It was a dash of unsettling with a peppering of hot.

“You said you wanted to talk about Coral,” she reminded them before guzzling some really top-notch margarita. “Is there Patron in this?”

“Of course it’s Patron.” Ben didn’t bother trying to turn the conversation to Coral.

“About Coral,” she tried again.

“Coral discussed our sexual endeavors with you.”

Leave it to the Robohippie to get to the point. This she could work with.

“She has recordings from the bug that was implanted in your underwear.” Why she hadn’t badgered Coral to replay a threesome recording still had her baffled. Her voyeuristic side was very vocal about enjoying other people’s sexual exploits.

“Did you enjoy them?” Ben prompted.

“No,” she shot back. Then she mumbled into her glass, “I didn’t listen to them.”

“But it sounds like you wanted to,” Jon offered.

Instead of looking upset, Ben looked more pleased for some reason. Paisley drank her margarita.

Jon wasn’t drinking. He was asking more questions while sitting uncomfortably close. “Coral transmits data to Bio-Dyne frequently. Will she send those files?”

“I didn’t really ask her. Why?”

Jon was getting frustrated. He pushed her drink away. “Because if she lets them know we are here for more than applying for my CoH, it will blow our cover.”

“So you are saying you don’t want your certificate of humanity?” It was a little hard to believe. Every AI bot in existence wanted that piece of paper.

“I don’t think I should have to prove anything to anyone to exist.”

“So you want someone to own you for the rest of your life?” She pulled her drink back toward her.

He pushed it away again. “It’s not anyone else’s business what I do with my life or in my bedroom. All these pieces of paper are doing is reminding us how we are different. Focusing on differences is exactly what these Anti-Mech assholes are feeding on. I’d rather live happily under the radar than give people who want to destroy mechanics my name, picture and location.”

“Then why come here?”

“Because Captain Briggs asked us to,” Ben replied for his friend. For once his voice wasn’t lilting with humor or sexual innuendo. He was finally talking seriously, and that was when Paisley pushed her drink away and paid attention.

Ben’s easy smile was nowhere to be found as he told her, “Quinn is worried that these Anti-Mech activists are going to start acting instead of quietly protesting. The place they would start acting if they want to be the most productive…”

“He thinks they’ll take out Coral,” Jon finished for him.

Paisley thought about it for only a second. Regular citizens didn’t have access to any of the tech the DMA had needed to take down Coral. “But if they’re human, wouldn’t they be pretty easy to fight off?”

“Coral’s certificate of humanity lists everything about her makeup, including where her perpetual motion motor is located. She may have a strong biometal skeleton to protect it, but a blast of liquid nitrogen would penetrate it instantly. If her motor tried to move after a blast of the freezing liquid, it would shatter.”

Paisley felt sick. “How do you know this?”

“You have to learn how to take out a lot of different kinds of enemies in a war.” Jon reached for a beer and poured half a glass down his throat before he finished with, “Having mechanics in the battle offered the same types of things to the government that these CoH tests do. They are gathering intel on how to take out all different types of enemies. It doesn’t really matter if they are real or perceived ones.”

“But you are applying anyway.” She didn’t know why she was worried about this guy, but she hated seeing anyone put in danger. “Aren’t you exposing yourself further?”

“They already have my information from my service.”

Her mouth started running before she could stop it. “Why did you go in?”

“It’s not like I had a choice.” Jon started to lean into her bubble, and Ben reached around Paisley to put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. It was like Ben’s touch recalibrated whatever Jon was thinking of doing and the robot immediately backed up. “My owner signed me over for the military in exchange for immunity for herself.”

“That’s awful.” Paisley put her own hand next to Ben’s on Jon’s shoulder.

“They made adjustments to my internal structure without shutting me down. On the bright side I know everything that was done to me, unlike Briggs. Although we do share some of the same upgrades.” He raised his fingers and a blue light arced between them.

“That’s not scary or anything.” Paisley started to pull back, but found herself stuck against a wall of Mr. Hottie.

Instead of moving, he gripped Jon’s shoulder and slid closer. That little bit of room Paisley had to herself was gone, and the temperature level inside her body skyrocketed. She didn’t want to be attracted to sexy spies, but her pussy didn’t really give a rat’s ass.

Ben took the hand not on Jon’s shoulder and moved her hair to hide her face from the rest of the bar area. Leaning behind the curtain her hair made, he rested his head on his arm behind her. It put his mouth right next to Paisley’s neck. She felt the hot and cold as his breath moved in and out of his lungs.

Jon’s eyes did that strange whirl again and she found herself fascinated. A gear that resembled the opening of a camera lens was increasing the size of his pupil. She could see the tiny striations that made up the mechanical parts of his ability to view the world.

Paisley resisted the urge to touch his eyeball. “Do you see things like we do? Or would it be comparable to a computer screen overlaying the pictures?” She forgot about her time limit. It didn’t matter if she spent her time here with them or at the bar. It wasn’t like they were going to bend her over the table and fuck her.

“The input is roughly the same. I just assess data at a faster pace.” He didn’t look away from her either.

Paisley was so distracted by Jon’s eyes that she made the mistake of not watching his hands. A feather-light touch traveled up her thigh, and where she thought he’d give her a little rub between her legs, he kept moving up. Her pants were unbuttoned and unzipped before she could expel another breath.

Paisley still wanted to look at Jon’s eyes, but she sure as shit looked around to see if anyone was watching when Ben’s arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her up a couple inches. She was going to ask what the hell he was doing, but before she could form words, her pants and underwear were slipped down her legs. Jon’s upper body barely moved as he pushed them down to her knees and then used his foot to force the fabric to the floor.

“The tablecloth blocks us. No one is bothering us for thirty minutes, and I want to give you another orgasm tonight,” Jon told her.

“I don’t have any information you want,” she reminded them as Ben lowered her and began to spread her legs beneath the thankfully floor-length tablecloth.

A soft moan eased out of her and Jon sucked in her breath.

“I don’t want information this time.” Jon’s hands joined Ben’s on her inner thighs. “I want to finish what I started.”

“You can’t get too loud, Paisley. There’s enough noise to drown out a bit of sexy talk and some of those hot little mewls I heard you give Jon yesterday, but you can’t cry out when we give you the first orgasm of many more that are coming tonight.”

She was about to disagree. She really was going to argue, but as strong hands began to work her over, her orgasm preservation kicked in.

Fingers spread her sex. Ben’s breath on her neck turned to kisses. Two fingers slid on either side of her clit and began a slow rocking motion that had her biting her tongue in half to keep quiet.

“You like people watching you,” Jon told her, “but we can’t be seen by others here.
I’m
going to watch you come all over our hands. You’re going to let me watch your pupils dilate as you come. You’ll be coming because you know this is the beginning, and because I’m not stopping this time. I want to feel you around my dick tonight. It’s all I’ve been able to think about, and it’s driving me insane knowing that this”—two of his fingers slid inside her—“was just inches away from encasing me.”