Freaks Under Fire

by Maree Anderson

  “Don’t know,” Seth said. “But if he did, he never made a fuss about it—not that people did in those days. Anyway, Alex met and married Mary Highton, and once he got his degree, they upped stakes and moved to the good old U-S-of-A. Meantime, Nina and Neil doted on their only child, and young Evan didn’t have a clue he wasn’t Neil Caine’s legitimate son until Neil did the whole deathbed confession thing before he died.”

  Seth sat up straighter, which Jay took to mean he was getting to what Tyler would call “the good stuff”. “Evan eventually tracked his real daddy down,” he said. “And somewhere along the way, decided it’d be a fine idea to pay Durham a visit. Seems Caine-the-younger was just as disagreeable as the modern day version, because he robbed Durham blind. See, Durham was pretty stoked to learn he had an heir apparent, so he treated his son to a tour of his private lab, and did a bit of a crow about his cutting edge research. Far as I can tell, Caine decided he had to have whatever Durham was working on. So he waited ’til Durham left to attend some function, broke into the lab and cleaned it out. Notes. DNA samples. A prototype cyborg that never lived up to his expectations.

  “Caine didn’t have a scientific bent, but he did have a talent for using other people. He put together a team of people who worked on the prototype for donkeys’ years but never got it functioning to Caine’s high standards. They didn’t have much luck replicating it, either—the female version they built went through five incarnations before they gave up and scrapped it.” Seth yawned and scratched his chin. “Caine eventually decided to have another unit built from scratch. Only this time, he ‘improved’ it by making it male, and using his own DNA for the creation of the physiological shell. And the rest is narcissistic history, AKA Caine’s pseudo ‘son’ created in his own image, Cyborg-Six-Point-0.”

  Seth had emphasized the word “improve” by raising his hands and curling the first two fingers of each hand into air-quotes. Jay gathered he didn’t believe that, a) changing a cyborg’s sex from female to male, and b) using Evan Caine’s genetic material over Mary Durham’s, had been an improvement. Or perhaps Seth was merely indicating his aversion to Caine’s creation—unsurprising given Seth’s recent encounter with Sixer. But Jay didn’t succumb to the lure of analyzing Seth’s thought processes, or how his revelations of Evan Caine being Alex Durham’s illegitimate son illuminated past events and the motivations of the key players. She was focused on the bigger picture: the fate of the cyborg Evan Caine had stolen.

  “How did you discover this information?” she asked.

  Seth answered promptly. “I started getting antsy about Caine’s motives, so I did me some digging. But I must’ve triggered some kind of internal alarm system because next thing I know, I’m up on report and some computer-whizz dude’s chewing my ass and calling me all kinds of idiot. I didn’t realize how much shit I was in until he admitted I was damn lucky he’d been able to convince Caine that terminating me would’ve been a waste of talent. I got the distinct feeling he meant termination of the permanent, non-breathing kind. I took his advice from then on—kept my head down and did what I was told.”

  “Was this man’s name Michael White by any chance?”

  “Yeah. How’d you know?”

  So Seth owed his life to Tyler’s father, who’d used the pseudonym “Michael White” after being blackmailed into working for Evan Caine. “Put it down to a lucky guess,” she said.

  “Meaning you’ll tell me once you’re sure I’m trustworthy?”

  “Meaning, it’s not my story to tell.”

  He didn’t press her further.

  Jay didn’t yet have enough data to confirm her suspicions but it wasn’t a stretch to assume the “prototype” Caine had stolen had been Jay’s forerunner—a Beta unit. Specifically the Beta unit featured in the photo that had mysteriously made its way into Jay’s possession.

  “How long ’til we get wherever it is we’re going?” Seth rearranged his limbs to extract maximum comfort from the cramped confines of the sedan.

  “At our current speed we’ll be there in a little short of two hours.”

  He barked a soft laugh. “Sixer would have given me the exact time down to the last second.”

  Jay, too, had been programmed to be precise, but she’d learned precision was not always advisable. More often than not, it drew attention from those who didn’t know what she was, and only emphasized her differences to the few who did. Seth, however, seemed far more startled when Jay displayed her human attributes. “I can be precise if it makes you more comfortable,” she said.

  “No thanks. I like you just the way you are.”

  Now it was her turn to be startled. She scanned his expression for clues. “You like me?”

  His face creased into a smile. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

  Jay considered various responses. Would it be ill mannered to say she didn’t know him well enough yet to have formed an opinion?

  His smile widened. “Don’t worry. I won’t be offended if you say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “That you’ve only known me a couple of hours so you haven’t formed an opinion either way. And how did I know that was what you were thinking?” he added, before she could voice the question that had bubbled to her lips. “It’s written all over your face.”

  Jay couldn’t help herself: Her gaze flicked to the passenger side windshield visor Seth had lowered.

  “Wanna see, huh?” He obligingly angled the visor so Jay could lean over and check her reflection in the small inset mirror.

  She peered at her face and then turned her gaze back to the traffic. “I don’t detect anything in my expression that would allow you to guess my thoughts so accurately.”

  “Is that a pout?” Seth asked. “Oh, my God. It is. You’re pouting!”

  He sounded delighted by the discovery. “I am not pouting,” she said.

  His response was unsatisfying in the extreme. “Have it your way.” He folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes.

  One minute and fifteen-point-seven seconds passed, and then he whispered, “Were, too.”

  She opened her mouth to refute his statement but instead of some pithy rejoinder, a wry laugh escaped. “Yes,” she agreed. “I totally was pouting.”

  Seth’s laughter spilled over, and this time Jay joined in. And decided that she might like Seth, too. Just a little. Not that she would admit it to him. At least, not until he’d proven himself trustworthy by extracting the projectile once he’d shot her.

  Chapter Eight

  His heart pounded like it would burst from his chest and his breath came in sharp, painful gasps. He was running. From something bad—something that was gaining on him. He dug deep and somehow managed an extra spurt of speed. It howled, and his heart seized as all the hair on his body stood to attention. He chanced a glance over his shoulder and—

  Abruptly he lay sprawled on the ground. It loomed over him, licking its chops. And then it opened its tooth-filled maw and—

  Licked his face.

  Tyler’s eyelids flew open and he found himself gazing into a pair of mournful yellow eyes. He swiped puppy-slobber from his cheek with the back of his wrist, and screwed up his nose as the canine version of morning breath hit him. Not a werewolf, then. Thank God for that. Not that he believed in werewolves or anything crazy like that but hey, it’d been a pretty realistic nightmare—no doubt caused by Brum’s furry presence in his bed.

  “Arrooo.”

  Tyler fondled the pup’s ears. “You miss her, huh?”

  The pup whimpered and rested its muzzle on its front paws.

  “Me, too.” Tyler scrubbed his face with his hands, blinked a couple of times, and glanced at his wristwatch. He loosed a heartfelt groan. Brum sure was an early riser. Maybe if he closed his eyes and feigned sleep, the pup would get the hint and—

  “Rrrroooff!”

  Apparently not. Grumbling beneath his breath, Tyler rolled out of bed, yanked on some clothes, and headed downstairs i
n search of Brum’s leash.

  The morning “walk” turned out to be a pell-mell sprint all over the freaking park until Brum’s energy finally flagged and the pup flopped on the grass, refusing to budge another inch. Meaning Tyler had to pick him up and carry him home… and endure some of the most blatant pickup lines he’d ever encountered.

  He unlocked the front door, kicked it shut behind him, and headed for Jay’s study. Brum woke the instant Tyler decanted the pup into his doggie bed, and with an earsplitting yip! of protest, rocketed from the study.

  Tyler blotted his face with the hem of his t-shirt. The heat in his face wasn’t only from running ’round after Brum. Who knew so many single women were out exercising at this time of the morning? And who knew sporting a sleepy puppy draped over one shoulder was the trick to attracting their attention? Put it this way: He often took his shirt off to cool down after a run and because he was in pretty good shape, he’d gotten the odd appreciative glance. But having Brum with him had taken “attention” to a whole new level. Not even toting a baggie of puppy poop along with aforementioned cute-as puppy had put them off.

  In future, if he had Brum with him, there would be no more going shirtless after a run…. Unless he wanted to see if Jay was capable of jealousy—

  Nah. Dumb idea. Jay had already proven that she could experience jealousy when she’d dealt to Nessa, who’d been dumb enough to come on to Tyler in a disastrous effort win him back.

  He snorted. As if.

  His lips quirked in a wry grin. Pity he hadn’t known about the puppy angle back in high school, though. Like, when he’d fervently believed that attracting female attention was the key to life, the universe and everything. Then again, truth be told, he would probably have chosen an extra hour’s sleep over trolling for chicks at such an ungodly hour of the morning. He’d never been much of a morning person.

  He registered Brum’s distressed yips—the pup’s kibble bowl was probably empty again—and headed for the kitchen to rectify that potentially world-ending situation before Brum’s barking woke the neighbors.

  The pup tucked into the kibble, leaving Tyler free to rectify his own personal world-ending situation—namely, a lack of caffeine. And, would you look at that? Jay had programmed the coffeemaker to switch on at precisely the right time.

  He inhaled the mouthwatering fragrance of freshly made coffee. Damn but he had the best girlfriend ever.

  He poured a mug of strong black coffee—just the way he liked it—and had just taken his first brain-cell-activating gulp when he noticed the note on the counter.

  Jay had made him coffee and left him a note—a note that left him in no doubt that she was concerned for his wellbeing in her absence:

  Don’t forget to eat breakfast.

  There are toaster waffles in the freezer.

  She’d signed it with a small hand-drawn heart, and the letter J.

  Tyler took another gulp of coffee, his lips tilting upward in what was almost certainly a goofy smile. Not that he gave a crap how goofy his smile was right now.

  The crunch crunch crunch! of Brum scarfing kibble reminded him that he’d better grab a waffle or three. Jay was sure to check the packet. Or flat-out stare him in the eye and demand to know if he’d eaten breakfast while she’d been away. And he sucked at lying to her—she was too observant and knew him too darned well… as he’d discovered to his cost when he’d claimed he was no longer POed that she’d paid his first semester’s fees at Wasserman College of Fine Arts. Not to mention arranged that any subsequent bills from Wasserman be sent directly to her private postbox.

  He was on his third waffle when his cell phone blared, and even though it wasn’t the ringtone he’d assigned to Jay’s cell, his heart flip-flopped in his chest.

  It wasn’t a stretch to assume Jay might be ringing him on a burner phone, but when he started considering the myriad reasons she might find it necessary to use said burner phone, pleasurable flip-flops turned to unpleasant pangs, and chills goosed his spine. He’d been trying to convince himself he was okay with Jay going off on her own. But he wasn’t okay with it—not in the least.

  He wanted to have Jay’s back in case anything went pear-shaped.

  He wanted to eyeball this Seth Williams dude—clue him in on the heap of hurt coming his way if anything happened to Jay.

  He wanted her safely back home. With him.

  He grabbed his cell from the counter… and wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned to recognize his old roommate’s number. He swiped the screen to accept the call. “Yo, Chandler.”

  “You got a sec?”

  “Sure. ’Zup?”

  “Tell me ’bout this asshole stalking Nessa.”

  Ah, shit. How much did Chandler know? Could be he was fishing for info, which meant Tyler couldn’t risk inadvertently revealing too much. “Better ask Nessa,” he said.

  “Already have. And between her’n Jay, I’m not exactly happy ’bout what I’m hearing.”

  Jay had called Chandler instead of him…. If betrayal felt like a sharp pointy object lodging in his chest cavity then Tyler was experiencing a textbook case of it right now. “You spoke to Jay? When? And why the hell did she call you?”

  “Yep. Coupl’a hours ago. Nessa phoned her but Jay insisted on having a word with me.”

  A cool wave of relief diluted the anger that had come hard on the heels of that illogical sense of betrayal.

  Before Tyler could think of something halfway intelligent to say, Chandler added, “We’re on our way back from Snapperton—were staying at the motel. And Nessa starts freaking out because she thinks she spotted this stalker, right? So rather than wake me and clue me in so I can rip the asshole a new one, she rings your girlfriend—who tells me to get Ness the hell out of there, and leave her to deal with it. Wanna tell me what the fuck is going on, Tyler?”

  The super-pricey coffee tuned to acid in Tyler’s gut. Man, Chandler was totally gone on Nessa—Tyler had never heard his old roommate sound so amped and ready to kick ass. And if Chandler got it in his head to drop Nessa off and head back down to Snapperton on his own to look for Sixer, it wasn’t going to end well for Chandler. Sixer was not someone you took on face-to-face without six different kinds of backup, and even then you were playing with fire. Hell, it was all Tyler could do not to hang up on his friend and immediately call home to warn his dad that Sixer had been spotted at Snapperton Motel…. And then hightail it down there in Jay’s SUV to help his dad insure their family’s safety.

  Not that there was a helluva lot either of them could do if the rogue cyborg decided to pay them a visit but Tyler wasn’t gonna think about that right now.

  The logical part of his brain told him the best option was to sit tight and let Jay deal to Sixer. Without some kind of enhanced weapon—which neither Tyler nor his dad possessed—she was the only one with the slightest chance of taking Sixer out. Tyler had to trust that she would prevail and come back to him in one piece.

  Now all he had to do was convince Chandler of that fact, too—without letting on that both Tyler’s girlfriend and Nessa’s supposed stalker were not exactly human.

  Shit. What a cluster-fuck. He racked his brains for the right words and finally settled for, “Look, this guy is bad news, okay? Real bad news. So if Jay says she’ll handle him, for fuck’s sake stay out of it and let her do what she’s gotta do. Jay’s got… resources she can call on, okay? Best thing you can do is keep an eye on Nessa—who, by the way, will never forgive herself if you do something stupid and wind up dead.”

  There. Couldn’t be much more blunt than that without revealing that Jay and Sixer were cyborgs.

  Chandler huffed a POed-sounding breath while Tyler held his, hoping he’d convinced his friend to drop it. And finally, after what seemed like a fricking lifetime, Chandler said, “Duly noted. Gotta go. Nessa’s on her way back to the car with the coffees. Talk to you when we get home.”

  And won’t that be fun, Tyler thought as he disconnected the call.


  He crammed the last bit of waffle into his mouth and rang his dad’s cell.

  Mike Davidson picked up on the second ring. “You’d better have a damn good reason for calling this early, Tyler.”

  Tyler choked down his mouthful of waffle. There was no easy way to say this so he opted for factual and blunt. “Nessa spotted Sixer at Snapperton Motel around two hours ago.”

  A pause and then a heartfelt, “Shit. Is Vanessa okay? Do you need me to go get her?”

  “Yeah, she’s okay. Chandler’s with her. They’re already on the road, heading for home—Jay’s orders, apparently.”

  “Apparently?”

  “Nessa rang Jay—I haven’t spoken to either of them, so this is coming secondhand from Chandler. He thinks Sixer is a stalker, by the way. Jay told him she’d deal with Sixer but…. Shit, Dad, this is freaking me out. Want me to drive down so I can back you up if he shows?”

  “If Jay wanted you here, she’d have rung you herself. Stay put, Tyler. Caro’s at Matt’s, so she’s safely out of the way. I’m on leave for another week, so I guarantee your mom and Danny won’t be left alone in the house.”

  Tyler bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. It was Jay’s house, and he shouldn’t be making offers like this without running it by her first, but…. Hell. It was an emergency. “There’s plenty of space here. We have two guestrooms.”

  “Your mom’s trying to settle Danny into a routine—you know how stubborn she can be. But I’ll see if I can talk her into taking a holiday.”

  A brush-off if ever he’d heard one. But no way was he leaving his dad to face Sixer alone. Tyler had faced off against Sixer once, and he wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone—not even a bona fide badass like his dad.

  “Are you gonna tell Mom that Sixer’s currently in Snapperton, or shall I?” Tyler figured his dad would be pissed by the threat, but right now, he didn’t give a shit. Hadn’t they just dealt with fallout from the last bunch of secrets?