Perfection

by Larissa Emerald

  A short time later, information scrolled across the screen at lightning speed. When it stopped, Kindra searched the data that matched the virus and the children’s corresponding data. There were holes. Things were missing, like obscure white cell counts in the children’s brains. Plus, the gene expression remained incomplete.

  She sat back in her chair. Most of the info the micro-dot divulged was almost useless. Perhaps it was because the actual analysis samples weren’t part of this system, and that wasn’t her area of expertise.

  “Steven, why can’t I view the complete analytical breakdown?”

  “That would require an advanced genome program. Only the HERO computers at creation facilities have access to such programs.”

  That’s what she’d feared. “So even if I put this dot in the police master computer, I won’t be able to access and interpret the data?”

  “That is correct.”

  York waited at the side of her desk. She felt his presence giving her strength. “Well, then, this won’t do us any good. We’ll have to find another way.”

  * * *

  Seville’s HERO was a beautiful thing to behold. On the outside, twinkling lights flickered as syntax zoomed through circuits and gases faster than human thought. He watched the external workings as if he were viewing the stars in the sky.

  He sighed. He didn’t have all night. He needed to get on with it. From a small shopping bag he’d brought to work that morning, he removed three devices, each the size of a large coin—not that coins were in use any longer. Gina had given him the connections to acquire the tiny bombs. She’d been helpful in many ways. He was sorry he’d had to kill her. But she’d allowed that detective to find her, and became too great a liability. He’d had to make the difficult choice to distance himself from her permanently.

  Angling his body to hide his actions from the security cameras, he placed the devices strategically inside the computer’s electrical workings. If someone attempted to access its information—say, if Kindra B-Zaika or the police wanted to take control of this lovely machine—well, the thing would blow up.

  And no more genetics play. At least in this part of the world. It was true that Nine could do some of the work, but not the deep genome pathing.

  A cynical smile peeled his lips back from his teeth. He imagined a world without the creation of superior, genetically engineered babies. That wouldn’t be so tragic.

  But maybe it would never happen. They could leave the computer alone and all would be well. Then he’d unearth a cure and emerge the hero.

  Yes, that’s how it would play out.

  Chapter Twenty

  Even with the bad news regarding the computer, Kindra pushed on. She downloaded what files she could to a spot comm: charts, information, histories—anything that might help her connect the dots.

  It was past nine when York finally got Kindra to leave the crime lab. He understood her resistance. There was work to be done, yes, but she most likely hadn’t processed the changes in her life, even if they were not permanent. He’d lived that scenario. Only his situation hadn’t changed back.

  When they left, she hadn’t wanted to go to the safe house so they ended up at his place.

  “I don’t see why I can’t stay at my apartment,” she said as she made her way into his living room and sat on the sofa.

  “You could, and I could stay there to protect you. But the killer has been there. We know that.”

  She stiffened. “Killer? When you put it in those terms, it sounds so awful.”

  He saw the fear in her eyes even though she appeared cavalier about what had happened.

  “If he’s connected to creating and releasing the virus, as my gut tells me he is, then he killed Isabelle. But was she the target or collateral damage?” He went into the kitchen. “Do you have a preference for dinner?”

  “I’m not very hungry.”

  “You need to eat. How about a traditional Chicago deep-dish pizza?”

  “That’s fine. I’ve never tried it.” She joined him in the kitchen and sat on a barstool at the counter.

  “You’re kidding.”

  She shook her head.

  He gathered the ingredients from the fridge. “My great-great-grandfather owned a pizzeria. I keep the dough handy.” York shaped the dough, pushed it into a deep pan, and put the sauce, cheese, and meat on top. He popped it in the oven.

  “What else do you like?” He really wanted to know more about her. And, honestly, he didn’t want to think about their suspect, about reality. He just wanted to unwind. They both needed it.

  She lifted a shoulder. “Lots of things. As you know, I grew up in England. I guess I have an appreciation for old relics because of that.” She paused, and a hint of mischievous energy lit her eyes. “A little like you. I love old churches and buildings. We don’t have as much of that in the United States. They’ve built so many temporary buildings in the last two centuries out of sheet metal and pre-fab materials; little was meant to last. But I also enjoy modern, sleek buildings. I like eating ice cream and standing on rooftops, and music. I don’t care for cooking—cloned items are fine with me—but Brianna, she’s on some all-natural kick. I’m not sure where she got that from.” She swallowed.

  He nodded, watching her. “Oh, sorry, I’ve been remiss. Would you like something to drink? Beer? Wine? I keep some vintage stock if you’d like to give it a try.”

  She wet her lips. “Wine, please. Surprise me.”

  He searched her eyes. Who was this woman and what had she done with the uptight scientist? “Coming right up.”

  “Mmm. Smells delicious.”

  “Thanks,” he said with a smile. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  He headed to his serious drinking stash in the cellar, selecting a wine for her and beer for himself. The house seemed quiet as he went back upstairs, the silence more noticeable after having Brianna there recently. He was certain Kindra felt it and missed her child terribly.

  As he entered the kitchen, she looked at him, her eyes holding his. He walked to her. With every step, his pulse increased, his heart thumping in his chest, making him feel alive. He didn’t think about the last time his body warmed as it did now, he didn’t compare GEI to Coder, he didn’t put distance between them. Instead, he moved closer, allowing the bond, the trust, and desire between them to build.

  Her eyes swept down his body. His danced over hers.

  No. She’s not for you, his brain whispered. But…

  He showed her the wine bottle, presenting it so she could read the label. “A twenty-one-twelve Cabernet Sauvignon.”

  “Oh my, that has to be expensive. No, please. It’s too much.” She placed her hand over his.

  Her touch felt so good, his nerve endings tingled. “I’m a collector, remember? I’ve been doing it forever, and it’s not expensive when you buy at the right time.” He removed the cork, let the wine breathe while he tidied up, then poured her a glass. He held it out to her.

  She lowered her lashes. Her head tilted, and after a beat of hesitation, she accepted the wine. Their fingers brushed, and her teeth nipped at her lower lip. Tension twisted in his gut and rose, tightening his throat. He flexed his jaw, watching her sip from the glass. He forced his gaze away and retrieved dishes from the cabinet, then set them on the counter. When he turned, she was even closer. All he had to do was reach out to touch her.

  He concentrated on getting the food on the table.

  Every part of him was aware of her as he sat across from her at the counter. He heard each clink of a fork against the plate as they ate the deep-dish pizza. “What else did you do besides sailing?”

  “You don’t have to entertain me, you know.”

  “Food is the complement of conversation.” He flashed a smile.

  “Are you quoting a very wise person or something?”

  “Yeah.” He snorted. “Me.”

  She laughed, a soft warble from deep in her throat. The sound made him want to draw her into his arms. H
e had to look away.

  “Is police work demanding?” she asked, taking over the questions.

  “Not normally. For the most part, the worst traits in society have been bred or engineered out of us. When we have a problem, it’s usually in the older populations—As, maybe Bs who have some kind of issues.”

  “And Coders?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened with your partner?”

  “Vi? We don’t know for sure yet. Her death could be related to the virus case. Or something personal I wasn’t privy to, or another criminal case. There isn’t much to go on right now, and our resources are pretty stretched working on the virus case.” He purposely hid the truth from her. It was police business and she didn’t need to know someone else had died at the hands of this killer. She had enough to worry about.

  “I’m sorry. It must hurt to lose someone. I’ve never really experienced that.” She paused. “Just Brianna today. But I’ll get her back. I’m sure of it.”

  He met her eyes. He wished he could be as confident about the future, for the sake of all those children.

  She sat back, her shoulders slumping a fraction. “I miss her.”

  “That’s to be expected.”

  He removed the plates and put them in the dishwasher.

  “How about a game before we turn in?” Perhaps that would take her mind off her daughter.

  “Lead the way.”

  He poured them each another drink to take along and led the way to the game room. “Pool or ping-pong?”

  “Ping-pong,” she said.

  Good choice. Its high energy level would give him a good workout and burn off some of the energy that crackled between them.

  He held out a paddle to her. “Have you played before?”

  “Yes, with my brother.”

  “Ah, see? I learned something new.” He bounced the ball a few times on the table. “How long ago was that?”

  “Police detectives sure ask a lot of questions.” She let loose another one of those sexy laughs. “Quite a while ago. His name is Kyle. We’re not close. Not like your family.”

  He served the ball, and she returned it. For a GEI, she moved with athletic grace, which he should have expected, but she missed the second volley.

  “Just getting warmed up,” he said.

  He started the next point. This volley progressed for a long while until she slammed it to the corner and shut him out. “Terrific play,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She served next, establishing a challenging rhythm. “Have you always lived in Chicago?”

  “Yes. I moved away briefly, then came back. My family can be pretty intense.” He chuckled, although it wasn’t so funny when he was newly married and trying to strike out on his own.

  Without realizing it, he picked up the tempo, hitting faster and harder with each return. She kept right up. They were both all over the table, running from left to right. Suddenly, the volley slowed drastically, as if controlled by something. For several long seconds, he eyed her. She was controlling the ball with her telekinesis. “Hey, none of that,” he said.

  “You’re no fun,” she countered and released her mental hold on the ball.

  Then she set one up close to the net. He returned it equally close as he came around the side of the table. She dashed forward and struck the ball, losing hold of the paddle in the process, then kept running through the hit until she crashed into his chest.

  He opened his arms to catch her. And she let him. Blindly, he tossed his paddle onto the table. An awkward second of not knowing where to place her arms was solved rapidly as she hugged his neck. She met his gaze. In a furious gush of heat, their lips came together in a frantic kiss, full of pent-up energy, passion, and longing.

  “This is wrong,” he said, dropping his mouth to her neck and kissing her soft, delicate skin.

  “I know.” She arched back, giving him better access.

  “We shouldn’t.” He lifted his head, found her lips, brushed his lightly over them, then peered into her eyes. He saw the truth there. She wanted—needed—this connection as much as he did.

  He kissed her long and hard, and she moaned as he broke the contact. He dipped his head lower, feathering his tongue over the swell of her breasts above her neckline.

  “Yes,” she breathed. She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him lower, allowing him to find her nipple through her thin shirt. He sucked and teased the tight bud.

  A few seconds of attention—not much at all, really—and she exploded into a frenzy, tugging at his clothes, running her palms up under his shirt and over his bare chest. He crushed her mouth beneath his. He angled his head to dip his tongue deep into her mouth. She moaned. He pulled back a little, sucking on her lips, nibbling, tasting. God, she was delicious.

  With both hands free, he cradled her face and repeated the sensual sequence again and again until they were both breathing hard, clutching at each other to get closer, wanting more skin on skin.

  She frantically tugged up his shirt. He followed her lead. In no time, they were down to their undergarments. More hot kisses. She slid off her panties. He dropped his shorts to the floor. He pulled her to him, and her body pressed along the length of his.

  So. Damn. Good.

  He slid his hand lightly down her back, part of him aware enough to be careful of her injury, and cupped her ass. She nibbled at his ear and neck, driving him wild. In one fluid movement, he lifted her and set her on the ping-pong table. Amazingly, there was no awkwardness, only desperate desire. She wrapped her legs around him as he entered her sweet body. The rhythm they set had the same urgency, the same burning necessity to connect, to share, and bond that had dominated the evening.

  She rocked her hips to deepen his thrusts, faster and harder until they both climaxed. He clenched his jaw, shuddering as he spilled into her. She growled low in her throat, a sound he’d never imagined she would utter, primal and sexy as hell. On the descent, he leaned into her, and she rested her head on his shoulder while she caught her breath.

  In the aftermath of the most awesome sex he’d had in his life, reality slowly returned. He noticed things he hadn’t in the heat of the moment, like her lacy bra. Now that surprised him. It was nice to know that even GEIs liked to be feminine beneath their self-controlled personas. He traced his fingers over the lacy edge framing her lovely breasts. “You’re so beautiful.”

  She gave an almost shy smile. Then her hand came up between them. He looked down at her fingers brushing the hair on his chest and back at her face. Her brow furrowed. Even though there wasn’t an ounce of pressure from her touch, he saw and felt the distance in her eyes. Their moment of abandon was over.

  He stepped back and retrieved their clothes, passing her things to her. Silently, they dressed.

  “I’m going to bed,” she said in a hoarse whisper as she walked by him without a glance. Her back straightened. He’d noticed she did that whenever she felt uncertain or defensive.

  “See you in the morning.” He swiped his hand over his beard and let her go, knowing they’d have to deal with what happened at some point. Just not tonight.

  * * *

  Kindra entered the guest room and closed the door behind her. She leaned her back against it, staring into the darkness of the room. Slowly, the lights came on, an older computerized program controlling the brightness. Her eyes adjusted to the change, yet she stayed in place, waiting for her heart rate to settle.

  But that didn’t happen. The furious thumping in her chest continued.

  York. He remained with her.

  She inhaled his scent, which clung to her skin. Awareness of him touched every inch of her body. She’d so enjoyed their interlude that he touched her heart and soul in a way she’d never known. What did that mean?

  She stepped into the room and dropped onto the bed. An ache formed in her chest, and she slung an arm up to cover her eyes. It meant she was being foolish. Her feelings sprang from the unusual circumstance—the tension of trying to save
the children, of Brianna in cryo, of an attempt on her life. Whatever this feeling was, however, it didn’t change how comfortable and used to spending time with him she had become. She felt an unexpected loss at the idea of not seeing him every day once this was all over.

  Exhausted, she fell into a restless sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  He was beginning to wonder if she’d overslept and he should wake her when she walked in. “I made an omelet. Would you care for some?”

  “No, thank you,” she said in a hoarse, remote voice. “I’ll pick up a vita-shake on the way into the precinct.”

  York did a double take. “Are you okay?”

  She looked away. “Yes, I seemed to have strained my vocal cords.”

  He half smiled and lifted a brow. “You did do a lot of moaning last night.”

  Her eyes drilled into him. “About that. It didn’t happen, understand? Best to wipe it from our memories.”

  She had to be kidding. He could never forget the way she looked in the throes of passion. He desired her even more now, wanted to take her again right here, even though he knew she was right. Dammit. His heart tore with indecision.

  “I can’t do that,” he said, setting the pan aside. “I don’t want to forget. I’m not a machine that can erase and reorganize information just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  Crossing her arms over her breasts, she didn’t budge. She looked like she had the first day they’d met—formidable, icy. He closed the distance between them, one slow step at a time. She didn’t back away.

  Toe to toe with her, he reached up and smoothed a wisp of hair behind her ear, allowing his thumb to caress her cheek. “I know we’re not conforming to society’s rules and GEI laws, but I don’t care. I want to explore this relationship and see where it leads.”

  “We can’t.”

  “We can. And no one has to know. It doesn’t concern them.” He threaded his fingers through her hair.