Synthetic Dreams (7 page)

Vyn arched into his body, involuntarily, stupidly, but she hadn’t been lying—she didn’t get to see, get to touch men like him. And even as a possible enemy thumped up the stairs, she couldn’t ignore her opportunity. Her fingers teased across the firm curve of his cheek. She squeezed and Paul let out a soft groan. “You seem willing.”

He laughed and his hips rolled against hers. “Perhaps.”

“Paul?”

Vyn froze. Liam was in the room. She willed herself to breathe, the heated air under the covers burning in her lungs.

“You busy?”

Paul let out a low growl, and the sound rippled through her. “What do you think?”

“I thought you were on duty.”

Paul deliberately traced a hand down over her ribs, the slow heat breaking another low moan from her. Damn him. Was it a part of his act for his false brother? She didn’t care, not with the play of his fingers over the crease of her thigh. “Then why are you here?”

“The off chance.”

With his weight supported on one arm, his fingers teased across her mons. In the shadowed darkness under the sheets, Paul held her gaze. She could almost feel the heat, his hunger, reminding her of the club and those few stolen moments. Fire bloomed in her chest and she gasped. Had he
known
she was the pneumatic blonde?

Paul strung kisses across her jaw. “I
am
busy here.”

Liam was silent for too many strained heartbeats. Did he suspect something? Was he spying on Paul as the brother he replaced? The memories were a blur, and she’d found herself in S-District soon after the arrival of the false Liam in college, but would he remember her, remember her skin, and wonder why she was suddenly there?

“He hasn’t gone.” Paul whispered against her ear, the sensation twisting her body against his. “Moan for me.”

Vyn closed her eyes. She should be embarrassed, horrified…but she wasn’t, not even as his fingers trailed over her skin, promising to dip deep into her wet flesh. Her breath caught, her promised moan little more than a desperate squeak.

“Is that all you can do?” Paul’s question burned under her skin, matching the heat scorching up through her belly as his fingers teased over her clit. Her following moan was involuntary and she felt his sharp grin against her ear. “Much better.”

“Is this what you wanted?” There was an undercurrent of sarcasm to Liam’s voice. “To find her and fuck her? It explains why you’ve gone above and beyond your duty to guard her.”

Paul stilled. “What?”

“Vynessa Somerton.”

Vyn bit her lip, her sudden fear twisting the desire surging through her body. She clutched his arm, the steel strength of his muscles offering a strange comfort. Her voice was little above a hoarse whisper. “How does he know?”

“What’s that, Vyn?” The sarcasm had ramped up. “I’m Liam Cross. I’m an arts lecturer. How could I possibly know what my security service brother does?”

“You’re not Liam.” Paul ground out the words, the pressure in his voice revealing an old fury. He eased away from her, slow and somehow lethal, peeling back the sheets from his body. Vyn grabbed at them, keeping herself covered.

“Seven years.” Liam laughed and, as he stood just beyond the doorway in the soft glow of the ceiling lights, she saw him transform into an even greater stranger. Slip into the man he truly was. “Seven years before you boiled over to challenge me and fuck up your life.”

Paul stood, unconcerned that he was naked, his body loose, relaxed. He flexed his fingers and rolled his neck. “Were your orders to watch me? Find out if Liam had let something slip?”

“Amongst others.” Liam moved on silent feet, circling him, his gaze fixed on Paul. He wet his lips. “I’ve been anticipating this day. Matching my skills against yours.”

“I’m ready for that.”

Vyn pulled in a tight, nervous breath. What the hell had she fallen into now? Paul’s survival was now bound up with hers. She had no doubt he was a very competent fighter, but Liam was an unknown. Her memory was vague, blurred. In college, he’d acted the role of a laid-back artist, concerned only with painting. The faint aroma of linseed oil had clung to him, as if to add authenticity. In reality, his training could easily rival or surpass Paul’s.

Her gaze darted to Paul’s crumpled shirt and jacket on the floor by the bed. Were his weapons still in their holsters, caught up in the fabric? She had to admit she hadn’t been watching for guns as he did his quick strip.

She shifted her backside against the mattress, praying that it wouldn’t creak, that the—

“Stay!” Paul jabbed an arm out at her, his gaze never leaving Liam.

Vyn froze, her fingers fisting the sheets. She’d relied on herself for too many years, had stayed alive for that long… She blinked as realisation hit her. Had the security personnel assigned to her down the years played a large part in her survival? There was a whole new layer to her life that broke the surety she’d built around herself.

“So commanding.” Liam’s laughter was low and bitter. “Doesn’t it get tiring, Paul? I’ve had it for seven years.” A smile touched his mouth, deepening the lines on his face she didn’t remember. “And I’m tired of it.”

“Really?”

Paul moved with him, mirroring the other man’s body, a lethal and liquid grace that tingled fear through Vyn. Liam’s body echoed his smoothness. They were matched. The tension between them arced, was almost palpable, and she had to sit and watch and not move. Her toes curled into the mattress, her heart beating hard. Curses ran through her head. This wasn’t her. She’d always acted…or had that illusion.

“I had to put up with the stink of oils, the inane drivel of artists and gallery owners, self-absorbed and over-privileged adolescents.” A dark smile twisted his mouth. “The fucking of young, impressible girls. That lessened the annoyance. Especially when they wanted that extra mark…”

Paul snorted. “Am I meant to be disgusted? You’re a lecturer. Fucking the students is expected.”

Vyn pressed her hand to her mouth as Liam pulled out a pair of shock-weapons from holsters tucked under his jacket. Small and sleek, their low whine cut an edge through her teeth. She winced. Paul seemed unmoved.

“I thought you wanted a fight?”

“Maybe I lied.” Liam’s twisted smile deepened. “Occupational hazard.”

He sprang forward. But not at Paul.

Vyn shrieked, scrambling back up the bed as one of his shock-weapons surged power, the stink of the cauterised silk burning across her senses. Her heart thumped. Her spine hit the headboard and a
whoomph
of air escaped her.
Shit.

Liam swore, his face harsh. Something glittered in his eyes, and it ran a chill through her…but Paul blocked him. In a burst of movement that she couldn’t quite follow, he drove Liam back. One weapon bounced, sparking across the carpeted floor. The other flew into a wall.

With hard hands, he shoved him back and Liam staggered. Paul flexed his fingers and his breaths were quick but slowing. His bare skin gleamed in the light.

“Your fight’s with me. Always has been.” Paul’s low growl skittered through Vyn and she curled up against the headboard, her fists tight in the still-smoking sheet. It was a timely reminder of who and what he was. “She’s not your concern.”

“Her?” Liam held her gaze, his cold determination stabbing into her. Paul moved, something quick and sharp, and it jerked Liam’s attention back. His head tilted. “Don’t want me looking too hard?” His dark smile deepened. “I know who she is. And I’ll fuck her before I hand her over. Take her, make her scream. The CEO only wants her breathing. Sane wasn’t a requirement.”

“And you talk too much.” In a blurred move, Paul’s arm shot out. There was a flash, a sharp crack and Liam slumped. His body hit the carpet. Blood leaked. “Far too much.”

For a long second, Paul’s body tensed until he let out a long, slow breath. He scrubbed a hand over his face and his fingers dug into his jaw. “Fuck.”

“He’ll have a transponder.” Vyn wriggled forward. She stared at the dead man, the small scorched hole in his forehead leaking blood. She didn’t feel anything. Not revulsion, not anger or guilt. Her thoughts were clear and quick. It was probably a symptom of shock.

She frowned. Liam’s wound was…unusual. Her attention jumped back to Paul, to the silver gleam of the small weapon in his hand. It wasn’t a shock-weapon. It was a projectile one. The fired bullet would’ve shredded Liam’s brain. “Even with a bullet, there’s a possibility the gear imbedded in his skull is still transmitting.”

“Yes.” Paul’s gaze pinned her. “Here.” He picked up her fallen clothes and tossed them to her. “Get dressed.”

She tugged the long-sleeved T-shirt over her head. “Was this in your plan?”

“It’s moved it forward.” Paul eyed her and she couldn’t read his thoughts. He glanced back to the body. “He was close. Much closer than I thought.”

His sudden movement towards the row of cupboards caught her by surprise. She tracked him across the room, not wanting to admire the sleek perfection of his body, the way the light licked his skin. He’d just shot a man, killed him, and she was enjoying an illicit stare. She wet her lips, nervous, disturbed, and tasted him on them.

“What’s really going on here, Paul?”

Her question spurred her into moving. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pulled on the loose trousers. Standing, she found that her legs wobbled under her. Her hand gripped the wooden headboard and she refused to let the shock take her.

Breath swelled in her chest until it hurt to hold it. Her emotions ricocheted. Much like the bullet inside Liam’s skull. She winced and bile rose, the sour burn of it filling her mouth. Her knuckles whitened against the wood and she willed herself to find focus on the quick pain, to fight off the sudden heat, the buzzing in her ears and the dark speckles threatening her vision. She was
not
going to faint.

“Lie down.”

“Trying to get me naked again?”

Paul’s hand covered hers, warm, strong, and eased her fingers from the headboard. Her knees buckled and she flopped onto the bed. “Lie back. The dizziness will stop.” He straightened and Vyn wanted to follow him around the room, but turning her head only thickened the spinning.

She let out a tight breath. Damn it, she wasn’t this weak. The heels of her hands dug into her eyes and she willed away the low buzzing. “Should I ask where you had that gun stashed?”

A snort came from the bathroom. “Not where you think.”

Vyn rolled onto her side. Over the edge of the bed, she stared into Liam’s fixed eyes. Her brain kicked in. She could buy them time. A short slice of it anyway. And she thought her brain had been quick and clear. “My bag. Give me it.” She forced herself to sit, grateful to not feel woozy. “Please?”

Paul dropped his pack on the floor. “What for?”

This was her area of expertise and it put strength in her spine. She pointed to various points in the room, the signs of modification obvious to her trained eye. “You have dampers. Sophisticated ones, so his handlers are aware that his transponder will become…irregular in here. I think we still have time. I can tweak his device, twist it to make it appear he’s still alive.”

“How long to fix him?”

“A few minutes?”

He grabbed her bag from the bathroom and threw it to her feet. “Do it.”

Vyn opened it and dumped the contents on the carpet. “I’ll also need a new pack. This—” she tossed the stinking, slime-covered bag away from her, “—is ruined.”

She sorted through her array of gear, her gaze flicking up to Liam. She’d never worked on a corpse before and it was…unnerving. Her fingers curled into her palms, short nails digging into her flesh. If it bought them a few extra minutes, she had to overcome her squeamishness. She could practically hear Ossian’s voice in her head.
Do you really want him to see you freaking out? Again?

She didn’t.

The gloved fingers that touched Liam’s cool hair weren’t hers. She dissociated herself, made the quick, practical turn of his head a job done by someone else. Not her. His scalp was still warm and a quick shiver ran up her arm.

She refocused and pressed pads to his skin. The monitors blipped, locating the transponder. She pulled in a quick breath. They were lucky. It was still in one piece. She scanned, points of information flickering. It was cold. She pressed her lips together. Yes, that had been the probability, but she’d hoped there’d be some spark, something that made her next move unnecessary.

Vyn winced and flipped on the low-level shocker. Liam kicked and jerked—they’d have to tie him down—as she bound the electrical signal into the transponder. The device jumped with as much life as the man did.

“Here.” Paul kicked the brake tabs on the corner wheels of the bed and pulled it around to trap the body between the floor and the low bed. Liam’s limbs thumped against the slats, his heels cracking the wood. “Enough?”

Vyn forced out a thank-you and untensed her shoulders. Watching him push a bed over a twitching corpse was…disturbing. Probably more than her working on one. The calm way he solved her problem… She didn’t usually mix with people like him.

He gave her a short nod and dropped a small black backpack down beside her. He threw her jacket onto the bed. “You have three more minutes.”

“All right.”

She had enough information to replicate his broadcasting signal. It wouldn’t fool them for long, but maybe it would give them time to get to wherever the hell they were going. Her fingers tapped out magic, the crackle of the feed, the pulse of his reanimated thought patterns fire under her fingertips.

The transponder stabilised. Vyn bit her bottom lip and pushed herself up. The bed thumped with each spasm of Liam’s body, and the air filled with the uncomfortable stink of warm meat and singed hair. The signal wouldn’t last. “I’ve done what I can.”

She put the remaining gear into the new bag and rifled through her jacket for the money and simulacrum case. They joined the other equipment. She stripped off her gloves and wrapped them into a tight ball. She’d only touched him through thin anti-static gauze but still she wanted to scrub her hands.