Warrior's Wife (5 page)

“That’s over one-point-seven kilometers.” His dismay tinted the innocuous words with clear alarm. Not even bots worked that fast. She would be alone and vulnerable.

Obviously he’d offended her again. She picked up the engineered pet and hobbled for the exit without commenting.

“Let me.” Marcus scooped her into his arms.

“I can walk, Galahad,” Tori told him, but she didn’t struggle or demand to be set down. Galahad was a clear term of affection.

“How’re those swollen knuckles?” Marcus asked.

Tori flexed her fingers. “Amazingly good.”

“Who is this Galahad anyway?” Marcus winked at Horace over her head.

“One of those ridiculously handsome guys of legend, who is way too good to be real. He was always busy saving fair maidens and such.” She grinned up at Marcus.

Her easy manner with his friend emphasized Horace’s dismal failure. Fear clutched at him. What if she accepted Marcus, but not him or Gideon? Horace couldn’t imagine anyone rejecting Gideon. He amended the question. What if she accepted both of them and denied him? That outcome had a high degree of probability.

“Where are we going?” Marcus smiled into Tori’s beautiful hazel eyes, which sparkled back at him.

“East about a mile to my ride. Ready to put me down now?”

“No way.” Marcus grinned.

Horace watched her leave with sadness clouding his vision. He could’ve carried her with equal ease. However, he hadn’t offered and she hadn’t shown any indication she would’ve accepted such help from him. Still he wished he’d thought of it first. Something unfamiliar banded around his chest and tightened. Likely some malfunction in his systems. The band tightened more. He set up a diagnostic scan of his critical functions, let it run in the background and tried to ignore the odd constriction.

“Take one of the motorcycles. Horace and I will salvage what we can and follow with the rest of the vehicles,” Gideon said with enough firmness to guarantee agreement.

Tori handed Horace the droid. “Keep him safe.”

“Thanks, Gideon.” Marcus tugged a helmet on Tori and settled her on the first of the two-wheeled vehicles. Then he climbed on in front of her, she wrapped her arms around his lean waist and the motorcycle disappeared in a roar of power.

“Have you analyzed the fluid samples from the first site?” Gideon’s quiet question accomplished the impossible. It took Horace’s mind away from Tori.

“Yes, I have. The first was blood. However, the second was most intriguing—an entire nanobot dump.”

Gideon elevated an eyebrow. “A singularly lucky hit for our Tori.”

His leader’s use of “our” lifted Horace’s flagging hopes. “Quite. A design flaw in his armor or a possible careless fastening that loosened during their struggle combined with a precise strike from a short blade at the perfect time to catch his bots in refreshment cycle or the wound wouldn’t have resulted in a complete nano loss. Without bots on board, there was no possible recovery for the injured cyborg. A minor wound became instantly critical.”

“Amazing luck for us.” The triad leader’s mouth thinned into a grim line. “She might not have survived had the enemy team been at full strength.”

“True, she sustained multiple cuts, scrapes and contusions. However, she was most fortunate in there were no serious injuries.”

Gideon faced him, meeting his eyes. “She wasn’t raped?”

“No.”

“You’re sure? I thought she’d refused to be examined.”

Horace ducked his head and shifted the lifeless droid from hand to hand. “She did. I scanned her.”

“Thank God.” Gideon squeezed his shoulder with such sincere approval Horace felt less guilty for the deception.

“Give me the pet. I’ll put it in the truck.”

Horace passed the furry bundle he’d been charged with safeguarding to his leader.

Gideon tossed it in the cab. “We need to get going, but we’ll take time for a quick walk-through. I don’t want to leave anything vital for the ’borgs.”

“What about Tori and Marcus?”

“We won’t leave without them.” Gideon clapped his shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to let Marcus know she wasn’t violated?”

“Later.”

“I’m certain he’s been worried.”

“Not now,” Gideon snapped.

The triad leader was tough, but fair. Filling in Marcus was the right thing to do. Gideon did the right thing. Always. Horace wasn’t letting it go until he understood what was wrong. “Why not?”

“Mind link’s broken.”

“Fuck me.”

“Fuck us,” Gideon corrected him.

Chapter Three

Galahad parked the motorcycle on the highway’s shoulder and effortlessly lifted Tori, cradling her against his chest.

Her bad leg ached like a mother. She didn’t protest being carried as he scaled the slope leading to the woods where she’d parked. The man wasn’t even breathing hard during the climb that had left her panting and fighting cramps.

She inhaled the comforting scent of seductive spices and clean man, frowning. Something was way off here. The shy tech wore the same irresistible cologne. Except when would he have had time to shower, shave and douse himself in manly stuff? How was it possible for both of them to smell totally delicious when they’d been fighting for their lives a few minutes ago?

The answer hit her with a whole lot of well-duh.

Rufus’ unusually fresh dog smell should’ve been her first clue that the pet wasn’t real. Were the three supposed time travelers some kind of sophisticated robots too? Their skin was realistic. She’d seen
Terminator
often enough to know any beings capable of time travel could simulate believable pores, sweat glands and small hairs. “Are the three of you robots like Rufus?”

“The dog is a droid,” Marcus corrected her icily.

Whatever seductive aroma their bodies gave off was, she bought it in a big way. Awareness of her peaked nipples and gushing sex made her cheeks heat. She ignored her physical reaction to the delicious male and made herself lean away from his warm chest in order to search his face. “Sorry, I meant no disrespect. Is android the more correct term?”

He scowled at her. “No.”

Although she’d tried to be tactful, she’d plainly offended him. Tough. She bristled back at the non-robot, non-android, needing answers. “Then what are you? ’Cause you smell way too great to be human.”

His expression softened. “Specialized nanobots clean and repair damage to our natural tissue, mechanical parts and biotech enhancements. Our systems and the way we’re bred and engineered make us different from natural humans. We’re mechs. None of our enhancements change our basic natures. We have free will, the full spectrum of emotions, and immortal souls. We’re as human as you.”

Fascinated by the implications for medical science, she asked, “Tell me everything you can about these enhancements. What exactly makes you so much better than the average human?”

He laughed. “You’re one of very few to view mechs that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mechs are…never mind. Mechs have titanium-reinforced skeletons, solar-powered bionics for strength, speed and endurance. There’s a neural net for communication and data storage. We have built-in tools, like replicators, lab equipment, even weapons. Nanobots keep our immune system tuned up, repair damage and balance energy consumption with available resources.”

“Wow, that’s quite a list.”

He shrugged. “Not for a mech.”

“Are the metal monsters mechs too?”

The fierce scowl snapped back into place. “They’re cyborgs, emotionless, soulless entities. They’re only technically artificial humans.”

The doubts whirling in her head must have shown on her face, because he added, “Cyborgs have an AI, artificial intelligence, unit where their frontal lobe should be. They have no moral code, they follow orders without question. They want to survive and are capable of learning like any self-aware computer system. They have a functioning neural net and experience pain and pleasure. They bleed and die like natural humans, just not anywhere close to as easily.”

The differences might be huge to him, but they seemed subtle to her. The men she’d known didn’t have enough in common with either the mechs or cyborgs to be considered the same species. Still the question of status was plainly a touchy subject.

Soon she’d be on her way. Debating species definitions wasn’t how she wanted to spend the last few minutes she had with her noble protector. “What’s your name?”

“Two of three, triad unit 642837 here to protect and serve you.”

“The three of you are a unit?”

“More like a team of equals.”

She nodded as if she had a clue what he meant. “Gideon seemed to be in charge.”

“Some are more equal than others.”

Right, she wasn’t touching that one. She switched back to how he’d identified himself. “Two of three triad unit 64-whatever is a mouthful.”

He held her gaze for a couple of too-fast heartbeats then added, “Marcus is my chosen name.”

The glints of pain in his eyes made her reach up and frame the sides of his face. “Explain chosen.”

His cheeks heated. “When an early mech triad mated with a founder—a natural human—many citizens were threatened by the possibility of all mechs being granted the same legal rights as natural humans. The council ruled mechs only gained full citizenship by special commendation or marriage. To reinforce our status as cloned and artificially enhanced beings—sub-humans—personal names were forbidden. Our triad disagreed with the ruling. Officially we’re identified by our unit’s manufacturing number and our service designation. Privately we chose given names.”

Tori had served eight years in the male-dominated army. She understood second-class status. But to be forbidden even the dignity of a name shocked her. “If you ask me, mechs are way better than most of the natural humans I’ve known. The problem with those natural humans in your world being threatened by mechs mating founders is a clear case of mech envy.”

Instinct warned her Marcus would interpret any expression too close to sympathy as pity, so she swallowed the rest of the tirade on the unfairness of his council from the tip of her tongue. Still holding his face, she leaned in until their foreheads touched. His warmth eased the last of her headache. “Thank you for sharing your name with me. I’m rotten at numbers.”

A startled laugh rumbled from his chest, pleasing her. The small victory lasted until Marcus crested the small hill.

She craned her neck to get her bearings. Nothing made sense. Instead of the small woods where she’d left the vehicle, a fair-sized crater smoked. “Something’s off, the trees are gone.”

And my ride, all the medical supplies, everything I need to make it to California. My life.
She swallowed hard to keep from wailing.

Marcus paused then dipped his chin toward the still-smoldering new hole in the ground. “Remember the blast we heard? The center of that crater has exactly the same coordinates as your vehicle.”

“The Humvee is gone?” Her words sounded distant and jagged as if they’d come over a bad connection. The question was stupid anyway. She just couldn’t wrap her head around the enormity of the loss. Pressure pounded in her temples. The steady backbeat drowned out rational thought. Marcus lowered her to the ground with slow, deliberate moves, taking care not to jar her. “The last team of cyborgs must’ve set a delayed explosive device.”

“Why would they want to blow up my stuff?”

He met her eyes with a familiar, angry scowl. “The explosion removed your only chance for escape.”

“I don’t understand.” She rubbed at her throbbing temples.

“I’ll tell you everything I know, promise. But right now we have to get away from here. The cyborgs have a lock on this position.” Marcus didn’t wait for her to agree. He picked her up and headed down the hill with a ground-eating stride.

There was something about being carried or his intoxicating, spicy aroma or his fierce protectiveness or maybe it was simply the total package that made her go all girly and trusting. But then she’d thought the shy tech guy equally delicious. She flushed at the memory. What in the hell had happened to her Ms. Independent self?

She told herself to stay cool. She didn’t know any of them well enough to trust them farther than she could spit, which wouldn’t be far because her mouth had gone drier than one of Bond’s martinis.

This was crazy, she must be losing it. She’d been taken captive by three evil cyborgs and survived. Maybe this was her body’s way of celebrating the fact she was still breathing—with a full-blown case of outrageous, beautiful, life-affirming lust.

She bit her lip to keep a too-shrill giggle from escaping while Marcus raced them down the hill, holding her safe against his wide chest.

A new thought blew a cool breeze over her heated imaginings. The bothersome question slipped off her lips. “Are there female mechs?”

“No.”

She sighed with relief. “Good.”
I don’t need that kind of competition.

Marcus settled her on the motorcycle then hit her with one of his intense looks. “Wouldn’t matter if there were a million females, you wouldn’t have any competition. The triad is here for you.”

Wow, just wow.
She swallowed a sappy sigh and made cow eyes at him.

He brushed a thumb over her wounded lip. The split must have been shallower than she realized, his light touch didn’t hurt a bit. He pressed a tender kiss on her forehead before he carefully fit and fastened her safety helmet then climbed on in front of her.

More of her doubts vanished under the steady campaign of exquisite care he took with her and another piece of her wary heart melted.

* * * * *

“Marcus take point. Horace, you’re in the tanker. Cover our backs. Protect and serve.” Gideon opened the truck’s passenger door and turned to Tori. “You’re riding with me.”

She took a step backward. “With all due respect, sir, I’d rather go with Marcus.”

“I’ll only say this one time. We’re at war and I’m in command. Get in the truck.”

Her eyes widened against a face paled to match the moon. She dipped her chin, handed her helmet to a grim-faced Marcus and climbed into the cab.

Nice work, asshole.
He’d pissed off his second and wiped out his efforts to make the cab a comfy nest in three short sentences. Normally he would’ve taken either one of the more hazardous assignments. But he was the strongest of the three mechs. Tori deserved the best possible protection from the triad. He’d made a perfectly reasonable decision she had no reason to understand.

“Where are you taking me?”

“California.” He must’ve looked like a thundercloud. He sure as hell felt like one. The courage it must’ve taken for her to follow his orders softened his hard heart. Sure she was hot stuff, but finding out she was someone he could respect was the best surprise he’d had in, well, ever. What a damn shame she was pissed and scared to death of him. “Fasten your seat belt.”

“Already did, sir.” Her cool voice belied her trembling limbs.

The engines started and he took a moment to really look at her. The split lip was less puffy and closing nicely. A good sign her bots had settled in and were on the job. She was too thin and he didn’t like the shadows in her eyes. She’d been through a lot. Thank God she’d survived and hadn’t suffered any serious damage. He’d love to soothe her anger and banish her fears, but he had no idea how to do it. Too bad she didn’t want a few more ’borgs killed. He was damn good at that.

He found the dog droid, turned it on and set the toy next to her. “Thought you might like it.”

She raked her fingers through the pet’s shaggy coat.

The droid watched her with bright eyes. Its bushy tail did a slow wave. Silent tears rolled down Tori’s smooth, pale cheeks.

A lump of unfamiliar emotion clogged his throat until he fought for breath and wanted to cry with her. He swallowed hard, wanting to hit something to relieve his helpless frustration to stop her tears. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel to keep from punching the dash. Desperate to ease her pain, with no idea how to do so, he pleaded, “Don’t cry, please.”

She sniffed. He replicated a hankie and gently dabbed at her tears. She took the cloth from him and blew her nose. “Sorry, it’s been a rough day.”

“Not your fault those fucking ’borgs battered the hell out of you.”

“That’s not why I was crying.”

“Why then?” He’d asked the question without thinking about whether or not he could handle the answer.

She waved her free hand at the cab furnished with the softest blanket he could find, a clean pillow, water pouches, aspirin and the furry droid. “You did all this to make me feel better.” Her eyes grew shiny again and she pressed the hankie to her nose. “You’re so damn sweet.”

“My chosen name is Gideon. No one has ever called me sweet.” His ears heated from new emotions and he stared at her, understanding the expression awestruck for the first time. “We took a class on how to romance a woman.”

He never blurted whatever he thought without considering the possible impact of his words, except for three instances in the last two minutes. Tori had burrowed into his heart and made it hers with a speed that left him off balance.

“Definitely sweet, Gideon.” She gifted him with a watery smile that sapped him out. His cock had been hard since he’d first seen her. Not even the tears that raked his soul made a dent in the steel-hard rod. Lucky for him his groin protector kept the evidence of his lust away from Tori. This needed to be all about her. He ignored his unrepentant dick.

From now on he’d keep her safe, see to it she ate well and got enough rest. Eventually the darkness would fade from her eyes and she’d learn to trust him. He prayed to God she gave him enough time to make it happen.