In My Skin

by Shannon McKenna

  It got better. High scores and accolades in nursing school, even while working part time as an LPN to supplement her scholarship. Graduated with honors as an RN two years ago. Among other things, she also did volunteer work at the free clinic he’d read about before. While studying for the Medical College Admission Tests. Woohoo. She was dead serious about a career in healthcare.

  She’d taken the MCATS about a year ago and gotten an excellent score. So she dreamed of being a doctor. Huh. The woman kept herself busy.

  Sealed documents from juvenile court archives showed assault charges when she was fifteen. Against a grown man. She’d whacked the guy with a cast iron skillet. Not hard enough to kill him or damage his brain, but hard enough to stop the bastard. Luke didn’t need to dive to fill in the blanks as to what the fucking pig had tried to do to her.

  Dani LaSalle was not to be messed with, even as a kid.

  A mug shot from that incident was buried in those archives. He blew it up until it filled his entire field of vision, a big transparent overlay. She hadn’t changed much since then. In the picture she wore a clingy purple tank top. Her tangled mop of curly hair was longer and wilder then.

  She looked ultra pissed off. Fuming with sultry heat.

  The picture winked off Luke’s screen as he rounded the corner and saw the doctor approaching the nurses’ station. He went inside and spoke to Dani. Young guy, tall, broad shouldered, wearing scrubs. His body language indicated that he knew her.

  Luke discreetly positioned himself to see better and hear more.

  “…need to talk to you privately for a moment.” The doctor had that flat, careful tone. Like he was bracing himself.

  So was Dani. She obviously knew that tone, and what it meant. Her mouth shook for a moment, and then she tightened it grimly, set her coffee down and went with him.

  Luke followed from a distance, sauntering toward the room they had entered and lingering by the closed door, jacking his auditory enhancements to the max.

  He leaned against the wall and thumbed his smartphone as he tuned into the doctor’s voice. “… everything we could, but he coded at 11:20. I’m so sorry, Dani.”

  Coded. While Luke had been busy worrying about Dani LaSalle needing a sweater. If he’d been monitoring the hospital intake database more carefully, he would have already known that Naldo was dead. He had to watch out. Getting sloppy.

  “The chest wound was relatively superficial, but there was significant blood loss, and he…”

  A harrowing wail of pain from a woman on a gurney who was being rolled swiftly down the hall by two nurses obscured the doctor’s voice for a moment. Luke struggled to sift through the competing sounds and tune in again as the woman’s moans retreated.

  “…appears to have been a brain hemorrhage. That’s all I can tell you right now.”

  Dani didn’t reply.

  “I’m so sorry,” the guy repeated. “Are you going to be OK? Is there somebody we can call to come get you? Take you home?”

  “No thanks.” Dani’s voice had lost its color and force. “I’m good.”

  Luke sidled away, keeping his head bent over the phone as the door opened. The doctor walked right past Luke and into a curtained-off alcove. Busy night.

  A couple of minutes later Dani emerged, looking blank. She didn’t seem to notice him, just stared around like she’d forgotten which way was out. Finally she turned and headed for the exit.

  Luke let her get well ahead of him before he moved to follow, but before she could make it through the double doors a burly, balding guy stopped her. Luke amped up his ASP directional hearing once again.

  “Excuse me, Ms. LaSalle? My name is Detective Rob Willis of the Munro Valley Police Department.”

  “Yes?” Her flat voice held a trace of assertiveness. “How can I help you, Detective?” She wasn’t dressed like a nurse but she still spoke like one, Luke noticed. Even though she obviously didn’t know this guy.

  “May I speak with you privately?”

  She paused for a long moment. “About what?” she asked slowly.

  Munro gestured at a room awaiting a cleaning crew. Two chairs, IV pole, no patient, no bed. “Please. Just a moment of your time, that’s all.”

  She was frozen for just a few seconds more, then shook herself a little and went in.

  Luke slowed way down as he walked by, stopping twenty feet past the door, and started messing with his phone again.

  “You told my colleague earlier this evening that the name of the deceased is Enrique Bernaldo, correct?” the detective asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And you also stated that you hadn’t seen him in several years?”

  She was silent again. “That’s right,” she said finally. “About six years, I think.”

  “Ms. LaSalle, is there any chance you’re mistaken about the identity of the man who died here today?”

  “Excuse me?” She sounded blank with incomprehension. “Come again?”

  Willis just waited. “Any chance?” he repeated.

  “No.” Her voice gained strength. “No chance at all. Of course that was Naldo. We recognized each other. I knew him well. Why do you ask?”

  “Enrique Bernaldo was found dead five years ago,” the man said. “In a motel in Las Vegas. Overdose. Well known as a male prostitute and drug dealer. At the time, his body was positively identified by his aunt, Emiliana Bernaldo. His father’s sister.”

  “Maybe that Bernaldo is a different guy,” Dani said. “I don’t recall an aunt in the picture. As far as I remember, Naldo was going it alone. He told me about his grandma, but she died when he was little. I know Naldo. I couldn’t get that wrong.”

  “OK. Well, thank you for your time, Ms. LaSalle. Here’s my card. Call me if you think of anything.”

  “He was like a brother to me.” Dani’s voice had begun to shake. “We talked about the past, at my house. Before he lost consciousness. He mentioned juvie. That was where we met. At juvenile detention. When we were kids.”

  It was clear to Luke that she was about to lose it. Even the detective noticed and lowered his voice. “Oh. I see. That’s interesting,” he said. He paused, waiting for more. Like he wanted to keep coaxing information out of her. Right now, when she was wrecked. Luke was about to do something stupid and attention grabbing just to distract that fat fuck when the detective saved him the trouble.

  “Look, Ms. LaSalle, you can call me anytime if you’d like to talk more. Right now probably isn’t the right time, given what happened and all. What I’m saying is—well, you have my card. That’s my private number. Don’t be afraid to use it. We can meet whenever it’s convenient.”

  Yeah, you’d just love that, wouldn’t you, buddy? Don’t hold your breath.

  Luke watched them emerge from the room, Willis following her this time. The guy stared avidly at Dani’s ass as she walked unsteadily toward the exit. Pig.

  Luke sauntered after them, keeping a cautious distance. He had to make sure that she got home safe and stayed safe. He also had to get into the basement morgue and check Naldo’s body for the package, but it was too soon for that. Too much activity around here right now. Later.

  He might as well make himself useful and guard LaSalle now that Naldo, that so-called friend of hers, had just gotten Dani noticed by the cruelest, most efficient killers on the fucking planet.

  A parting gift before kicking the bucket. Thanks, dude. You shouldn’t have.

  Then again, Naldo’s brain had been melting down. Luke guessed he should cut the poor guy some slack. Still, things could get interesting, and he was down for that. Somebody had to fend those fuckers off when they came for her. And they would come.

  Hell, they were probably already on their way.

  Luke got worried after a few minutes. Dani didn’t go back to the parking lot for her car. She’d decided to get a cab,
but apparently had no phone to call for one.

  She’d raced off to the hospital without grabbing so much as a purse or a coat, and now she was standing out on that busy street in the ice-cold wind in thin, blood spattered clothes, those wild ringlets whipping around, getting in her eyes as she tried to flag down taxi after taxi. It was a busy street, and there were plenty of cabs, but they weren’t stopping for her.

  Screw that. He eyeballed a shiny new one stopped at the red up the street, sinking his cybernetic claws into its networked systems. When the light changed, Luke mentally nudged the cab into the correct lane. When it was close enough, he muscled it to the curb and jerked it to a noisy stop right in front of her, popping open her door for good measure.

  Dani got in, leaning forward to give directions to a grizzled older man who appeared to be scared shitless by his car’s strange behavior. His mouth sagged open and his eyes were bugged out. But he snapped out of it when Dani wearily closed the door and sat back, driving away with no further help from Luke.

  The cabbie would probably chalk the bizarre experience up to fatigue, stress, impending dementia, temporary psychosis, car trouble. Anything he could come up with.

  Then he’d just block it out. Reject the weirdness and continue on with his life.

  Lucky guy, to have that option open to him.

  Chapter 3

  “So he never showed,” Lewis Hale repeated, his voice hard. “No call, no word, no warning.”

  “No, sir.” R-48, his newest operative, stared straight ahead, her beautiful face impassive. “I waited for two hours, left multiple messages, and called the emergency number we were given. When we traced the phone, we found it discarded on the side of the highway forty miles south of the designated meet site.”

  Hale studied R-48 thoughtfully. He’d only had her for ten days, and hadn’t yet taken her measure, beyond that incredible body and flawless face. She and the other six new operatives were Level Twenties, the highest ability level that Obsidian currently developed, at least for subordinate operatives. The higher skill and power levels had been phased out over the past few years. Too many things could go wrong. And had.

  It was a coup, to have successfully requisitioned seven Level Twenties. Hale’s mission was vitally important to the Committee: to shut down Manticore Tech, the rival underground research lab that Braxton, that fucking traitor, had set up to compete with Obsidian.

  Manticore Tech had gone too far. Hale intended to prove himself to the Committee by taking them down for good. He’d posed as a buyer and purchased one of their operatives. He wanted to study their expensive product. See what could be learned from it before the axe fell.

  But it had been snatched from his hands. And someone had to pay.

  R-48 was incredible to look at. Female operatives were always preselected for good looks, but R-48 stood out from the pack. She was exotically beautiful. Long blue-black hair kept in a glossy braid. Huge dark tilted eyes, luscious lips. A body that would make any man’s balls ache. But that blank look on her face irritated him.

  “Do you ever smile, R-48?” he asked her.

  R-48 looked even blanker, if that were humanly possible. “Sir?”

  “Can you smile?” he demanded.

  A tiny frown creased her brow. “I’m disappointed that I couldn’t successfully complete the mission, sir,” she said stiffly. “Smiling seems inappropriate.”

  “Smile now,” he commanded.

  She looked hunted. Eyes darting around at her fellow operatives, all male, who stared straight ahead.

  Metzer, his second-in-command, laughed under his breath. “Good one, boss,” he said. “I’d like to see that, too.”

  R-48’s mouth worked. “Sir—I—”

  “Are you disobeying a direct order, R-48?”

  R-48’s eyes went wide, face tightening as the question triggered a programmed cascade of intense discomfort through her body. Then slowly, as if struggling to remember how, her mouth stretched into a grimace.

  Hale huffed out a sigh of disgust. “Stop it,” he growled. “Do you have the names and personal info for the Manticore lab personnel ready?”

  “Yes, sir, I dived for them already.” R-48 sank down to the computer, fingers tapping on the touchscreen with blinding speed. “The data’s on your screen, and I’m calling the contact number now. One moment…” She tapped the computer. “I hacked into the Manticore system webcams last night, so I have eyes on the man fielding the call…and this one is Peter LaMonte. Located in the Singapore lab complex.”

  Hale consulted the data she’d put on his screen and picked up. “Hello, Peter,” he said. “It’s Highett. Remember me? The client who got stiffed today?”

  The shocked silence on the line made him smile. “Ah…I don’t…”

  “I know you Manticore personnel are supposed to be anonymous, but I don’t hand over a thirty-five million dollar down payment to nameless ghosts,” Hale said. “I know everything about you, Peter. Where you are, where you live. Who you care about.”

  “But…but I can help you, Mr. Highett!” Peter LaMonte’s voice had risen almost an octave. “Believe me, you haven’t been stiffed! We will deliver!”

  “Then you’re aware of our difficulties with the consignment today.”

  “Of course, and I apologize for what happened! And it’s on me to—”

  “I want to speak to Dr. Braxton personally. Put me through to him.”

  “He’s not available right now. Again, I’m sorry that the courier didn’t show, but we’ll make it right as soon as we—”

  “I’m not that patient,” Hale said. “Manticore wouldn’t send out a courier without an imbedded tracker in his body. Send me the codes and I’ll deal with recovery myself. I’ll subtract my expenses from my final payment.”

  “Ah…that won’t be necessary, sir.” There was desperation in Peter LaMonte’s voice. “We’ll handle it. I don’t personally have the authority to renegotiate your contract, and furthermore—”

  “Give me the data,” Hale repeated. “Or I will make a phone call, and you will find a nasty surprise when you get home to 150 Rose Terrace, Apartment 52, where you live with your beautiful wife, Jacinta, and your two little sons, Malcolm and Henry. Four and seven years old, am I right? My people are much closer to them right now than you are, Peter, with your fifty-minute commute through Singapore. Have I made myself clear?”

  He listened to the man’s panicked breathing. “Ah…our security safeguards exist for your protection, too, sir.” LaMonte’s voice shook. “Delivery points are randomly generated to ensure that we’re both insulated from possible—”

  “I don’t give a fuck about your security protocols,” Hale said. “I want my product and I want it now. Shall I make the call? Decide quickly. Or I’ll decide for you.”

  “No. Please don’t,” LaMonte begged. “I’ll get it. Just give me a moment.”

  “Send it to the same address we used for the drop meet info,” Hale said. “You have two minutes, Peter. Get on it.”

  “Of course. Right away.”

  The room waited in dead silence as the seconds ticked by.

  R-48 looked up from the screen. “He sent it, sir.”

  “Good job, Peter,” Hale said softly into the phone. “Smart choice. Let’s hope for your family’s sake that we have everything we need. Have a good day.”

  He hung up and peered over R-48’s shoulder, toying with her shiny braid. “So?”

  “He’s in Munro Valley, California,” R-48 told him.

  “On the move?”

  “Stationary.” She enlarged the touchscreen image with flicks of her fingers. “At the Munro Valley Hospital.”

  “An accident?” Metzer mused.

  “Go and find out,” Hale ordered Metzer. He turned to R-48. “You keep a close eye on that courier. I don’t want him slipping away again.”
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  “He’s unlikely to do that, sir,” she said.

  “And why is that?”

  She touched a tab and enlarged a diagram of the hospital campus, pointing. “That’s the morgue.”

  Hale looked at Metzer. “Get that chip back fast.”

  “I’m on it,” Metzer said. “Just one thing. When I come back, I’d like to, ah…celebrate.” He glanced at R-48 and waggled his brow suggestively. “But you have to authorize it. You know. Since she’s a Level Twenty and all.”

  Hale felt a twinge of annoyance. Metzer was a randy dog. R-48 was worth tens of millions. She was a Level Twenty with more field experience than all the other new operatives combined. Improved functional mods, a wider range of deep-stimmed core skills. And all the literature warned against using high-level subordinate operatives as bed companions.

  It was the equivalent of using a rare, expensive electronic instrument as a sex toy. Self-indulgent, wasteful, unhygienic and potentially dangerous.

  Besides, if anyone was going to use her, it should be him. Ranking squad leader.

  But Rob Metzer was his number two. Junior Squad Leader, loaded up with command mods, favored son of Gerard Metzer, a powerful Obsidian Group committee member. Rob was an arrogant, self-important dickhead, but he was headed straight up the Obsidian ladder. It would be unwise to make an enemy of him.

  Hale was nothing if not practical.

  “Just this once,” Hale said grudgingly. “But don’t make a habit of it. Pick up your own meat in your own time.”

  Metzer grinned triumphantly. “Thanks, boss.” He seized the zipper tab of R-48’s tight microfiber jacket as he walked by, tugging it down until the jacket gaped over her breasts, barely covered by a snug gray microfiber camisole. “Sweet,” he murmured, and looked at Hale with a grin. “We can take turns. I don’t care.”

  “Get to it,” Hale snapped. “Work before play.”

  Metzer swaggered out. Hale noticed R-48 pulling her jacket zipper closed as he followed. “Leave it as it is,” he ordered.

  She looked up, eyes wide. “Sir?”