The Cyborg Bounty Hunter: In the Stars Romance Page 5

  “Transfering Temis Station feed,” the ship chirps out.

  Snippets of the day pass before my eyes as I search for him. For Donner. Where did the fucker disappear to? I watch as I chase him down through the restaurant and into the kitchen, but then he just vanishes. I replay the footage, hoping to catch something, but there’s nothing.

  My fists slams down onto the arm of my chair. How did he disappear? How did he get away from me? And why does he not show up on any feeds for the rest of the day? It doesn’t make any sense.

  Anger tears through me and punches me in the gut. How could I have allowed this to happen? My bones ache over my blatant failure, and I hear their voices. My ancestors cry out for revenge. I was so close to nabbing the bastard, and he just slipped through my fingers.

  If he’s managed to figure out how to vanish, then there’s only one person who can help me. I glance over my shoulder at the holding bay door. She has the answers I need, and hell, she has the abilities to block sensors and who the hell knows what else.

  I take a few deep breaths, steadying my heart rate. I know what I have to do, and it won’t be easy. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, and I doubt she’ll be eager to help me. I need to appear calm and apologetic if I intend to flip her. I continue my slow breathing as I rise from my leather throne. The metal grate floor sounds out my presence as I return to the holding bay door. She’s sitting on the long metal bench. Her knees tuck into her chest, and her arms hug her legs to her.

  I press my finger to the pad, and the system measures my thumb print as the AI scans my eyes. My biometrics are accepted, and the door slides open. Lily glances up at me, and that injured look tells me I’m going to have to do more than say ‘let’s be friends’.

  I enter the room and sit atop the bench directly across from her. Our eyes meet, but she doesn’t say a word. I swallow hard, knowing I’m going to have to be the one to begin the conversation. But the words aren’t easy to come by when she’s staring at me like that: scared and hurt. The urge to rush over and comfort her strikes me. I want to do anything in my power to wipe away the sadness in those eyes.

  I shake my head and clear my throat. What am I even thinking? She’s a telepath with ties to Donner. I need to keep a clear mind and not get ensnared, no matter how much I feel our ancestral lines trying to tie us together.

  “I apologize for how controlling I’ve been with you,” I begin. The words are scratchy in my throat and for good reason. I can’t remember the last time I apologized to anyone. “Catching Donner goes beyond just collecting a bounty. I need you to do this, and I promise I’ll keep you safe the entire time.”

  Her jaw locks. She’s about to spew spitfire. “I’ve got my own back, thanks.”

  She says the words, but I know that’s not how she really feels. Her heart rate is normal, her inhalation levels don’t escalate, and her body language remains neutral. My retinal scanners don’t show any change in her composition. But she’s frightened. I know. I can feel it. It’s coming from a prescience. But how?

  9 Lily

  Cole looks deep in my eyes, searching for something.

  A crawling sensation swarms my mind. Is it Cole? I feel him siphoning off disjointed bits and pieces of my thoughts. It’s like the tingling I felt back when I escaped Donner, when the medics patched me up, or, closer still, when Cole mended my open wound. But this is not my flesh; it’s not tangible. It’s a shadow slithering through my brain, a ghost of a presence that unnerves me and leaves me no defense.

  Once again, it is happening at Cole’s behest. I know he can sense my fear. Coupled with the prescient bond between us, I can’t help but wonder just what kind of tinman I am dealing with.

  Is he an empath?

  Any child would scoff at the notion of that. Cyborgs can’t be empaths; empaths are never cyborgs.

  I chuckle softly. His face transforms into the picture of confusion, and I stop. It’s unsettling and it feels fifty shades of wrong, but my mood changes all the same.

  “I’m going to protect you.” His gaze seems sincere, corroborating his pledge.

  I know too much to believe men when they promise to cloak me with their protection and keep me safe. Sentiment is a luxury. Only people like the ones who seek out places like Temis for leisure and willful ignorance can enjoy it. Yet somehow, I believe him. Whether or not he’ll succeed is anyone’s guess, but I see that it isn’t a game or a con. He believes he’ll succeed in protecting me.

  That’s something, I guess, and I appreciate it for what it’s worth. It doesn’t feel like the time to bring up the fact that Donner is not someone he should underestimate. That prick is a fucking wild card.

  If Cole’s this confident about his skills, he doesn’t know my former employer well enough. Even the bravest hero to ever cross the galaxy should be cautiously optimistic at most—and guarded at all times.

  Cole is unfazed and determined, which leads me to believe he doesn’t know the full extent of Donner’s actions and abilities.

  Neither do you.

  The memory of running into Donner stings. I had been so sure this was the place for me to have some time to get my affairs in order before disappearing to Verna. Even if Donner eventually found me, it should have taken days, or weeks, or—hell, it should have taken months. Every projection I’d run when I left had yielded a conservative estimate of a six-month head start. There were thousands of other planets and stations he should have tried before even thinking of Temis.

  It dawns on me that I know nothing. For fuck’s sake, I don’t even know what the job Blake set up is about. If I’m this clueless when I was on the inside for so long, then that’s definitive proof that Cole doesn’t know what he is getting himself into.

  “He’ll come back for me.” The words leap from my mouth before I can stop them.

  “I’m anticipating it.” The way he says it—so simple, so direct—cuts me to the bone.

  I sigh and close my eyes. Every last bit of focus I have is redirected to my breathing. It’s hypocritical for me to assume I am embarking on a lost cause all for the sake of Cole’s whimsy. Factoring in the unfortunate reality that I have failed to escape not just once but several times now, this fate isn’t uncalled-for. I’m clearly not as clever as I think I am.

  But Cole’s flippant attitude and reckless disregard for Donner’s considerable influence and savvy is downright offensive. Ignorance isn’t a virtue, and arrogance is the ultimate downfall for too many people, no matter how well-qualified for their revenge mission.

  “He’ll find a backdoor play you won’t expect,” I say, keeping my eyes closed and my voice level. “If you are going to insist on keeping me here and plan to dangle me as bait or whatever the true meaning of ‘decoy’ is, you have to understand that. Please give me something to hold on to, some indication that you understand.”

  Cole bristles, looking unimpressed. “I wasn’t born yesterday.” He clenches and unclenches his jaw several times, causing the muscle in his cheek to spasm. “And when I was the one talking about Donner’s atrocities, I seem to recall you downplayed them and all but told me to fuck off.”

  Vinegar isn’t working. Time to try some honey.

  “Oh, I didn’t tell you to fuck off? I should’ve.” I snap my fingers. “Hindsight’s a bitch.”

  Okay, so it’s a cheap attempt at gaining some levity. If Cole doesn’t view my concerns as an attack on his skill, he might be more inclined to actually listen.

  He cracks a ghost of a smile and quips, “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make up for lost time.”

  The tension dissolves into a mist, dissipating around us. Above all else, that’s the biggest paradox about Cole. He is everything I can’t stand in people I have to associate with. Self-important, cocky, and headstrong to his—and, by extension, my—own detriment. If conversations could be mapped out, the cartographer entrusted with plotting out ours would face one hell of an uphill battle to explain how our back-and-forth could pivot so abruptly.


  All of which is well and good on its face, sure, but it doesn’t scratch the surface. I am not opposed to making friends or looking for a quick hatefuck-buddy in another life, but first I need to find my way out of this one—without being reduced to just another casualty of Donner’s, directly or indirectly. For that, I must be smarter. While I’m at Cole’s mercy and still figuring out my footing without the help of my usual neurapathic advantages, I need to speak a language he understands.

  I really fucked up by overestimating my own skills and underestimating Cole’s—not even underestimating, really, but dismissing them altogether, along with the strange tidal pull that his presence induces.

  That must change.

  Of course the professional and official bounty hunter manages to succeed at making me feel like a caged animal. By the time the dinner hour approaches, I have a bad case of cabin fever—or whatever the spacecraft version of that is.

  Cole doesn’t let me out of his sight, which doesn’t help matters at all. He ambles around the kitchenette like the curmudgeon that he is, squinting and scowling at the various pots and appliances chirping and beeping all at once.

  I might have something to do with the systems malfunctioning.

  Not that I’ll ever confess to it. I’m content to sit here, prim and proper, and preen like a pure, innocent blossom. Emphasis on innocent.

  “I have never had a problem with this—aw, fuck this!” Cole’s organic hand recoiled from the hot plate, his flesh painted with a reddish tint.

  I decide enough is enough, reeling back my influence. “Karma’s a bitch.”

  Cole tests the surface again and sighs in relief. “What is it with you and bitches?”

  “Like sees like.” I bat my eyelashes and smile.

  He guffaws heartily at that. “You know, you could’ve let on that you have a sense of humor.”

  My smile falters. “Remember when I told you that most of us are just trying to survive this cruel place? It’s a privilege to be so carefree.”

  “You talk a good game about that, but tell me this,” he counters without looking up, his attention concentrated almost entirely on finishing making the meal in front of him.

  “Yes?” I prompt.

  Cole snaps his neck up, facing me. “Sorry, I wanted to get it just right.”

  I crane my neck to look at the result of his efforts. The platter showcases an impressive variety of fresh foods, doubtlessly sourced from an upscale supplier. I heard Cole talking with lawmen in the afternoon, but I hadn’t been close enough to see or hear any particulars. With the systems being locked down tight, none of my usual means of enhancing my senses and penetrating rooms beyond the one I occupied has been an option.

  He must have made special arrangements to stock his kitchen. The aftertaste of the soup from earlier still clings to my taste buds like a vacuum-sealed culinary horror show.

  “Do you eat this kind of food?” he asks, consternation twisting his features. “I can make something else.”

  The truth is, I don’t know. Donner fed me a steady diet of drugs and dependence, not nourishment.

  “No, it looks exquisite.” I cringe at the formality that escapes my lips.

  Cole’s eyebrows shoot up. “Your face tells a different story.”

  “No, really, this is great.” I offer him a wan smile and take the dish from his hand. “Do we share or...?”

  “No, that’s all yours.” He produces a second plate from behind the counter, identical to the one he gave me. He plops down on the floor with his food, then looks up at me expectantly.

  “Oh, we’re eating on the floor? Interesting.” I stoop, level with him, and fold my feet under my legs before setting the plate down on my lap. I’m pleased that the pain subsided considerably since the afternoon. Maybe Cole has a magic touch.

  “You can eat at the table, but there’s only one chair. I figure this is more intimate.”

  I lock eyes with him. Intimate. An innocent word. Why did it send tingles down my spine?

  “Good call,” I say softly. I avert my gaze, and my mouth waters at the sight of the vibrant greens and juicy meat on my plate.

  “You can dig in.” I can almost hear the smirk in his voice, but I don’t dare to look up. “The food won’t bite. The whole concept of eating is actually the opposite.”

  I crack a tiny smile as I move a few morsels around. Finally, I take a small bite, savoring the burst of rich flavor in my mouth. “Mm.”

  When I look back up, Cole is watching me. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “What were you going to say?” I ask, looping the conversation back to safer topics. It makes me uncomfortable to remain in this awkward spot where I’m not sure what’s a double entendre and what’s just typical banter. Besides, I have to use my time wisely.

  “Hm?” He’s eating with such gusto that it’s almost endearing.

  Almost.

  Don’t be that girl, Lily. He’s not your friend even if he’s not an enemy.

  “You said something about how I ‘talk a good game, but tell you about’ and then you trailed off. What were you going to say?” I ask.

  A shadow falls over his face. “What are you doing to stop the injustices of this world?”

  The question is utterly unexpected. It hits me like an asteroid shower, throwing me off balance. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You openly disdain people and judge them.” He wipes a smudge off his face and fixes his eyes on me. “You talked a good deal about ‘lofty ambitions.’”

  No, I never talked about that. I thought about that, but he seems to have heard me.

  A chill travels down my spine. Is he baiting me? Or does he not realize—shit, how can this be happening?

  “I spoke out of turn,” I say, face down again. “It was mean-spirited. So many things have been happening all at once, and it feels like I haven’t...”

  The real question is, why am I blurting all of this out? How am I so shaky in my resolve that I’m willing to let my tongue loose and give him even more insight on me?

  “I know all about the wars running rampant, Lily,” he says with a sullen look in his eye. “I’ve been to every corner of the galaxy. Temis ranks in the bottom of places I like to be. This station is a fucking illusion that fools throw money at.”

  “I won’t disagree with you there.”

  “Well, look at that.” When his lips break into a smile again, it’s so enormous that crinkles form around his eyes. “You, the indomitable woman, gracing me with your assent.”

  I’m never confused. I’m never anything but one hundred percent steady. I won’t develop selective amnesia or be the victim of some outlandish psychosis that transforms this situation into something that’s okay or normal.

  But I have to give credit where credit is due. If Cole is putting on an act, he’s doing a damn good job of it. I don’t doubt that his opinions and convictions are sincere, and it’s more honorable than most at this station. There is also something to be said for the way he’s leaning into the wind blowing against him. I have no idea what his grievances with Donner are, but most people Donner has wronged find a way to vanish before he can do even more damage. Cole is stepping up and taking the fight to that worthless piece of shit. It’s fair to say that his values are different than most.

  Would he still be so honorable if he knew about what you are? If Donner puts him in a chokehold, will he go back on his promise of protecting me and sell me out?

  Cole also doesn’t know about me. Oh, he feels it, and he’s collecting puzzle pieces left and right. But once he puts it all together—and it’s only a matter of time until he does—will he want to objectify me? Put me to use and reap the benefits of what my singular neurapathic abilities could do?

  And what if he defies all odds?

  The thought comes out of nowhere, and my mind spins deep into the hypothetical of Cole being exactly who he says he is and doing just what he has vowed to do.

  “Are you finished eatin
g?”

  My headworld shatters around me. I shake, regaining my focus, and glance at my half-eaten food. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  “I’ll save it for you to eat later if you want.” Cole rises to his feet with both of our plates in his hands. He inserts mine into the conservation device. With his own plate, he gathers the scraps of food left over from the meal prep and deposits all of it into the containment chamber.

  I can’t look away as he’s cleaning up. For the first time, I really study his mechanical arm. It’s a design I’ve never seen before, and I’m something of an expert. It’s a near-perfect replica of his organic arm, save for the exposed wires and the precise way his motions stop and start.

  I’m torn between amusement at the sheer absurdity of a cyborg engaged in domestic activity and annoyance at myself for being so inconsistent.

  “All done,” he announces.

  “So, what now?”

  I dread the possibility that he’ll lock me somewhere—the bleak room from before or his quarters or somewhere worse.

  “I need you to do something for me.” Cole closes the distance between us with only three short strides.

  Nothing good ever came from those words.

  “Do I have a choice?” I cross my arms. “I’m getting really sick of all of —”

  “Lily.” He presses his lips together and lifts my chin up, and our mouths nearly touch. His breath tickles my nose, so near that I can hear the faint buzz of the circuits that power his hardware.

  “Yes?” I breathe, my entire world hanging as if by a single thread.

  Cole’s gaze flickers to my lips and then returns to meet my eyes. “You’re going to have to take me to your rental.”

  If moments are bubbles, then that’s the knife that cut into ours. I take a step back and blink rapidly. My mind whirs to action, thinking of how to make it play out in my favor.

  “Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be. I need you to cooperate. Otherwise we’ll draw unnecessary attention,” he cautions.