WingSpan (Taken on the Wing Book 1) (45 page)

“You’ve seen what the girls are wearing, right?” Tong demands.

Yeah, Rye has seen. Tong’s radar goes off every time one passes in a snug one-piece ski suit. Tong’s imagination needs no help and Rye can be sure because his big brother lacks the filter that would keep his lusty thoughts private.

They chose a window seat in this coffee bar for the good, elevated view it provides of pedestrian traffic among the shops and restaurants. Aphids prefer the tight cluster of bodies and where Rye and Tong would have kept out of sight on the Aphid home world, the green bastards get all out of sorts without the feel of overpopulation.

It doesn’t hurt that Aphids walk a little funny. Rye’s trained eye will easily pick it up even in a crowd. In spite of Tong’s moaning for a woman, Rye is sure his brother is on task as well.

“What are you drinking?” Rye asks.

“Sweet latte,” Tong mouths with a waggle of his eyebrows and a puckered kiss of his lips. Trust Tong to turn coffee into something dirty.

“Whatever.”

A loud female laugh interrupts Tong’s chuckle and sends a shiver down Rye’s spine.

“Oh, hot Goddess,” Tong breathes. He turns to the coffee counter and Rye’s gaze follows. The woman’s long blonde hair coils behind her head and a stray piece shakes with her laughter. Strong shoulders narrow into a tight waist and her feminine hips sway with the Christmas music from the overhead speakers. Hips were the first thing that got Rye’s attention when Angel, the unwelcome first gen, was assigned to his unit. Third gen females don’t have hips like that. They were the perfect fit in his big hands and along with her shorter stature he hadn’t been able to resist the urge to protect her.

The blonde barista sounds just like Angel.

Dead Angel.

Rye had been reviewing the vids from Constant at Tong’s bedside when the official report on Angel chimed its presence in his inbox. Estimated unrepairable past seventy percent efficiency and placed in permanent cryo storage. Any soldier below ninety-four wasn’t good enough for service, even then resources were too scarce to put that kind of time into a first gen since it was less work to get a new one. Angel was as good as dead and Rye’s heart froze with her.

“Angel, thanks for sticking around. I don’t know where the crowd came from,” a woman behind the counter calls and Rye’s breath leaves him as his eyes lock with Tong’s. His brother turns as white as Rye feels.

“Sure thing, boss,” the blonde replies.

The open back of the blonde’s shirt reveals a nest of tattooed flowers. Cherry blossom, jasmine and other exotics cover much of her skin and a vine climbs the back of her neck.

“Can’t be,” Tong whispers.

Rye’s cybernetic eye focuses on the tattoo. Through all the ink, her skin shines with the gloss of heavy scarring. The blonde’s back and neck have seen some serious repair.

“Nice hustle today, Angel,” the other woman, a brunette, shouts and slaps Angel on the ass. She jumps.

“Wow,” Tong recovers first. “Do you think the two of them…”

“And us?” Rye replies, flat and automatic.

The blonde turns and laughs and there’s no mistaking who she is. Angel, the only woman to get hold of Rye’s heart snaps a towel at the brunette. From across the room even Rye’s human eye makes out the small, beautiful gap between her front teeth. Long gold earrings caress her neck and he’s charged with memories and close to jumping the counter and taking her in his arms.

“You know, Tong, if you weren’t my brother.”

“And didn’t leave the toilet seat up.”

“Or the milk out,” Rye’s wooden voice replies as the rote exchange goes on.

“You’d marry me.”

“In a heartbeat.”

The pair falls silent as Rye realizes his eyes aren’t the only ones on Angel. She’s the centre of attention with most of the men in the coffee shop and Rye’s both proud and angry about it.

Angel seems to know and glances around the room.

When her gaze reaches Rye and Tong, she pales then laughs again but it sounds more like a gag.

“Tall mocha extra shot,” she calls and puts a cup and saucer on the counter before turning her back on the window seats, Tong and Rye.

“What the hell?”

Rye shakes his head.

“She back in Core?” Tong tries. “I mean, they still haven’t figured out her data collectors after six years. You think they fixed her?”

“Then why is she serving coffee?” Rye can’t help but feel bitter. If Angel is back in service he thought she would have contacted him.

“Not sure,” Tong thinks. Both men avoid looking at the coffee counter and keep their eyes on the people pressed together in the square. “But she was brilliant. Maybe…”

“Then why is she serving coffee?” Rye asks again.

“Look, Aphids are here. We know it. That’s our primary.”

“And Angel just became our unofficial secondary priority,” Rye finishes. The shock of seeing her wears off and now he’s plain angry. Not so pissed to not hear her out but he’s more than mad enough to need a moment alone with her.

“Let’s get out of here,” Rye knocks back the last of his coffee.

As he zips his bright blue ski jacket he shakes his head at his brother and remembers to maintain eye contact. Tong wears one of the skinny ski suits under his short jacket and if he didn’t need a place to hide his weapon and gear, he’d toss the jacket to show off his muscled body. Rye is built the same, thick everywhere, all third gens are, but unlike Tong he never feels the need to advertise. Somehow it cheapens the man inside.

A glance at Angel shows she’s regained her composure. She’s involved in an animated conversation with an older man and woman who aren’t dressed like skiers. Her bare arm points to the west wall of the building as she gives them directions.

The bell above the door rings as Rye and Tong step out. They stop two doors down and watch silently as the couple to whom Angel gave directions strolls past. The scent of fresh ground coffee follows them, leaving Rye inexplicably jealous of them for being so close to Angel.

Every ten minutes Rye and Tong move to another part of the square. Tong gets another coffee from a street vendor but Rye passes. His mood sours and he can’t focus while he debates what he’ll say to her.

“Over your left shoulder,” Tong whispers. “Good makeup job on it.”

Rye turns like he’s bored and gets a look. The Aphid wears a lumpy knit hat and sunglasses to hide its oversized, pupil-less eyes. Its skin appears just like a humans and Rye knows it’ll keep its mouth shut to hide the crop of short, pointy teeth. It stops to lean on a garbage can. Just behind it, Angel steps from the coffee shop and pulls her gloves on. Her bulky coat hides her shape and she rubs her palms together, oblivious to the Aphid two meters away.

Her military training is easy to see. Under the pretence of fussing with her hat she takes in the entire square. Rye steps sideways behind Tong to hide his distinctive blue coat and when he looks again, she hurries away.

The Aphid emulates a heavy sigh and heads off in the opposite direction.

“Thoughts?” Rye asks his brother. Even though he’s in charge, Angel’s presence is a huge complication and Tong will understand. Protocol dictates Tong has a say when it comes to modifying their orders on the fly. As long as they get the job done they can do whatever else they please.

“I got the primary,” Tong stretches his head back and forth to loosen up. “Go see what’s up with her.”

“Yeah, Tong. You got me?”

They both pull out smaller civilian looking comm tablets and Rye verifies each can locate the other.

“Got you,” Tong says. “But your date is better looking. Take your time.”

Rye snorts. Tong is right. He’s one of the few who saw how Rye suffered from Angel’s death.

“You too,” Rye says and enjoys his brother’s laugh as he turns to follow Angel. “I’m sure it’s got a lovely personality.”

…now available

Deadly Expectations

As a teen Anna Creed discovers she can time travel; a trick she uses to ‘jump’ from one place to another with no apparent passage of time. All she needs are two wheels, speed and nerves of steel. Now eight years later she’s alone and pregnant when her secret power takes control to save her life. Injured and confused Anna finds herself in the arms of Paul Richards, her summer lover and the father of her child.

But Paul has secrets of his own. He’s the head of an old conflict weary family and has been Anna’s past life lover time and time again, something only he remembers.

Things come apart for Anna when she starts ‘jumping’ in her sleep. Both Anna and her sister are in mortal danger from Paul’s uncle Damian and a ghost from her past life is driving her to murder. As Anna and Paul’s fledgling relationship unravels she takes the final and unforgivable step of attacking him and leaving him behind.

From Northern California to the rainforests of British Columbia Anna gets closer to the truth about Paul’s family and the realization that saving Paul and her unborn child may ultimately cost her life.

Chapter 1

“Anna? Where the hell are you?”

Alina. Her recorded voice said I was in trouble.

It was barely a month since Paul’s last message. Who knew how many times we’d shot the same motorcycle rallies without crossing paths. He photographed two page spreads of models on custom cruisers and I captured lifestyle pieces about lawyers on two wheels. Once we found each other it only took a few nights to scare him off.

And I was sure Paul left something behind one of those nights. Which didn’t matter. Certainty waited in a little box in my backpack.

“You know what day it is,” her tone didn’t lose any firmness as it came from the little speaker. “Call Dad. I did. Don’t screw it up again. I don’t care how late—”

Stop.

Easy for her to call him up from half way across the country to say she loved him and missed mother too. It was three hours later in Toronto than on Vancouver Island so he wouldn’t keep her on the phone. I had no excuse for avoiding him. Dad lived three blocks away.

I dialled. It was only nine and he’d still be up.

“John Creed.”

“Dad? It’s Anna.”

“Hey, what’s up kid?” He did a poor job of making it sound like a phone call from me wasn’t a big deal.

“I...”

“Take your time, Sweetie.”

“I want wontons, Dad.” They’d been Mom’s favourite.

“That place up the road still in business?”

“Yeah,” I answered. I was a regular there. He hadn’t set foot in the door without her.

“Pick you up in ten?”

“‘kay.”

I pulled a knit hat over my long blonde hair to keep the heat in. At least it wasn’t raining. It had been ten years earlier when Dad had taken his inconsolable daughters to the lone car at the far end of the hospital parking lot. In spite of the cold drops washing the tears from my face I remembered the taste of salt.

The street light at the end of my empty driveway lit the air I exhaled. It wasn’t cold for the first week of October but it was humid. The figure of my father on foot approached from the south. I went to meet him.

“Is something wrong with your truck?” I asked as he gave me an awkward hug.

“Mm mm. I only use it for work now.”

We walked past my house then a block over before getting on the road to the Chinese food place.

“It hasn’t changed a bit,” he commented as we got our seats. Like dinner in a jewel box Mom used to say. Gold and red lanterns hung everywhere, some waving their tassels as they caught the breeze from the ceiling fan. Dark carved wood and bold wallpaper decorated every surface. A candle in a plastic mesh covered red glass holder flickered in the middle of our table.

“Neither have you,” I replied. “You look good.”

That got a smile. He was still trim in spite of having an appetite like mine.