Shepherd

by KH LeMoyne

  She still embraced the project without regrets, proud to finally be involved with a rescue mission instead of one of destruction. However, her respect was for the man who had offered her the chance. In spite of his doubts, he had believed in her enough for her to get this far. For now, that was enough.

  She gave one last glance around and wondered if she would see this place again. It felt so much like home, but only with Clay. Hair pinned up under his cap, she initiated the face visor, activated the ERD grid with the keg, and headed for the door.

  ***

  “Countdown—eight minutes.”

  Clay ignored the system count, heading straight for his console. At the stream of red task items on the plan followed by the activation signal from his code name, he froze in his tracks. He turned and brushed by Ty in a desperate search for the equipment he had organized for his trek with Esme and the keg.

  Pack, weapons, and keg were all gone.

  “Team’s been activated.” Ty slid a second keyboard his way and continued to search through the camera feeds from Down Below. One feed zoomed in on a shadow beneath grid girder 673, the injection site for the keg. “I don’t see anything there.”

  Clay ran a sweep of heat signatures. A faint residual signature headed away from 673 toward the sewage ejection point on the west end of the New Delphi grid. “There.” He pointed to a shift in the shadows. An energy signature disappeared behind a mound of steel. Damn interference. Another key sequence confirmed the dampener bots’ activation and progression. “She’s out there and has loaded the ignition device.”

  “How far does Aaron have to drop after the explosion?” asked Ty.

  “The full drop is three hundred feet. Ratter will have him in a backup anti-grav belt.”

  Ty glanced back. “A backup will only kick in during the last fifty feet.”

  “It’s a rough landing. Anything stronger will register on the Regent scanners. He’s supposed to be dead, remember.”

  “And the break in the sewage line?”

  “We have a reroute in effect. The New Delphi Sanitation Department already had a standard maintenance cycle scheduled. Specter will patch the hole, and the segment will look normal by the time the maintenance crew arrives at that location.”

  Clay spun the keyboard back to lock the system and then grabbed a laser gun and visor.

  “She confirmed the mission and launched the device—do you still not trust her?” Ty asked.

  “My gut’s always trusted Esme. It’s my brain that had trouble with each new bit of information. I hope to God I get a chance to convince her of that.” Clay tossed a second laser gun in Ty’s direction. “The problem is Aaron’s been in captivity for two years. While I want him home as much as the rest of us, she has no idea how much desperation and anger the squad training can instill in a man.”

  Ty shrugged as he attached the cannon beneath his trench coat. “I think she has a fairly good idea. But you’re right, more backup won’t hurt.”

  Chapter 12

  Clay was right. Loading the keg into the conduit would have been easier with his help. The panel cut into the wide pipe was adequate, but manipulating the ERD with one hand and physically shoving the keg into the opening with her other pulled several muscles in her neck and shoulder. Or perhaps anxiety triggered the tense nerves and nagging pain. Fortunately, guiding the device with her remote and detonating it had gone as planned.

  The explosion point still several yards away, Esme halted.

  Clay had chosen a clear section in Down Below for Aaron’s expulsion. The intersection of the sewage lines should be over an open spit of land. Instead rubble and junk rose twenty feet into the air. Wet soil and the stink and gleam of sewage covered the pile and several smaller ones to the side.

  They hadn’t planned on someone else squatting on their target site.

  Esme ran her halo bulb along the smaller piles and then killed her light in favor of the infrared scanner on her wrist. The distinct mounds of clothing and tools separated from concrete and rubble indicated someone’s attempt to scavenge through the huge mound. An old rattletrap earthmover stood idle to the side. Most likely the explosion and waste dump had interrupted a treasure hunt. Whoever had gone to this much trouble would be back. Resources were valuable.

  Great. Bet this was a scenario Clay didn’t plan for.

  The scanner flickered halfway up the large mound, where an oxygen mask hung from a stack of asphalt. Esme swore under her breath and commanded a more thorough search. The scanner blinked again near the mound’s peak. An anti-grav belt with the Underground beacon signature pulsed at the top. Two shots from her K39 laser cannon converted both to dust.

  Aaron was awake and here without the tracker that would give her a heads up on his location. Not part of the plan either, and she seemed to be the only one present. Spinning around, she scanned behind her and sidestepped, keeping her back to the piles. She needed to hold out for only a few minutes.

  She scrolled back through the IMs.

  Ghost: Camp backups down

  Ratter: Target made

  Ratter: Camp riot

  Ghost: Location sealed

  Ratter: Target down

  Ratter: Delivery made

  Both team members’ roles were complete. Onyx would arrive soon, and Specter was to handle containment of Aaron once the sewer system expelled the young man. Neither man had messaged a change in time or location. Perhaps the excavating scavengers created difficulties in their reaching the site. She punched up the contingency plans for “no one at the drop site” and winced. It listed the Sicaria Squad training skills. At best, she could hold out for several minutes against a highly trained soldier. Against the list on her screen, she doubted she would last one.

  A full circuit of the mound delivered no new options. Laser fisted, she fiddled with its metallic handle, pushing back and forth on the energy crystal latch, and waited for a sign.

  The rough tug on her visor caused her to turn, arm raised to fire. Evidently what Aaron anticipated. His arm crushed around her neck as he snatched the laser from her grasp. Fight would have been good, but it took both of her hands, clawing at the constriction over her neck as she gasped for air.

  “Release her, Aaron.” Trace’s voice traveled across the few feet between Esme, her captor, and the girder shadowing Trace’s position. “She’s only trying to help you.”

  The man holding her paused only long enough to sniff at her hair and then tightened his grip before he spoke. “There is nothing to help. Aaron’s dead and so is the body he left.”

  Her boots struggled for some hold as he dragged her closer to the mound. Between the lack of oxygen and dangling in his grip, it was futile. In a desperate attempt, she released a hand and aimed an elbow behind her at his midsection. She hit hard muscle. His sharp intake of breath and the quick shake he gave her confirmed her scanner’s last report of a wound.

  She bowed her back, trying to get his attention. “Can’t—br—” The words never made it out of her mouth, but he eased his chokehold. Unfortunately, the laser now pressed against her temple.

  “Aaron.” Clay stepped from the shadows fifteen feet from Trace. Ty followed a few feet back. Clay shifted his laser, aiming the red target point over Esme’s shoulder. She had no doubt it marked between Aaron’s eyes. “I don’t care if we did just spend two years searching for you and four weeks planning your extraction. I respect you as much as anyone, but if you don’t let the mother of my children go, this is the last memory you’ll ever have.”

  ***

  Witnessing Esme’s struggles in Aaron’s hold, Clay fought the rage that surged through his body. Deadly focus and thousands of details raced from his cyber implants. Visual zoom calculated Aaron’s minute body shifts. The enhanced cochlear sonar detected his respiration and heart rate. Each of Clay’s physical upgrades gathered the data he needed, but the brutal assessment and strategy he prepared to execute came from years of following ruthless practice.

  Ty had on
e side covered. He could count on his backup.

  Trace would follow through as well, though the doc carried only a Taser gun out of principle. Fair enough, no man should be forced to execute a family member.

  His own choice, however, left no second option for Aaron. No one would take Esme from him.

  Aaron’s position changed, desperation reflected in the permanent lines of pain on his face. Ready to follow through on his threat, Clay paused at the unnatural flicker of Esme’s eyes toward the laser and back. She was terrified, yes. Her fingers shook around Aaron’s arm. Yet one hand swiped at tears that didn’t exist. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was sending him a message? Then her fingers tapped together in rapid succession of her code.

  If he focused, Clay could hear a pin drop at the edge of the Down Below sector, some half mile away. He usually relegated use of his visual and auditory implants for specific mission tasks only, as they flooded his system with too much information. Esme’s message: K39…loaded.

  She gave him no time to assimilate her intent. Her kick to Aaron’s shin and bite of his arm elicited a violent response. Instead of shooting Esme, Aaron turned the gun on himself and released her.

  Clay angled for a shot of Aaron’s arm to stop the charge, until Esme turned toward Aaron with her arms wide, warding off any clear shots.

  Instead of a laser shot, an electrical discharge from the laser’s unsecured crystal energy chamber flashed bright enough to make them all squint. Trace was already on the ground at Aaron’s side, with Esme, as the young man jerked and twitched in response to the kickback charge from the laser cannon. The laser she had somehow maneuvered into Aaron’s hold.

  Esme was pulling up Aaron’s shirt and briefing while Trace dumped his pack and grabbed his med scan. “He’s bleeding. A wound inflicted during his extraction—left side, lower abdomen. Ghost indicated they hit him when he entered the bathrooms.”

  Clay retrieved the laser cannon Aaron had dropped and crouched a few feet away, not quite certain if he was going to throw up. In the space of a minute, he had almost killed a valued colleague and lost the woman he loved. That neither scenario had come to fruition didn’t stop his body from wanting to purge his last meal. He used the momentary distraction of confirming that the crystal chamber was now safely latched to regroup. She had remembered his instructions, most likely setting up Aaron for the electrical burst from the start. Even knowing that, he doubted he could erase the last few moments from his mind.

  He caught Esme watching him. Her gaze lingered over him, pausing on his face and the swollen gift he’d received from Ty. With a slight twitch of her lips, she turned back to assisting Trace.

  Finished cleaning and sealing the ten-inch slice along Aaron’s side, Trace glanced from Clay to Esme. “He’ll only be out a few more minutes. The voltage wasn’t low, but he’s pumped with endorphins, and I suspect they feed them amphetamines to keep them hyped.” He rested a hand over Esme’s. “Thank you.”

  She shrugged. “I try to be prepared.” With a glance around, she raised a brow. “What? Am I the only one who didn’t expect him to come willingly?”

  Ty’s chuckle echoed over Clay’s shoulder. “You so deserve her.”

  “Damn straight I do.” Clay stood, raising his laser again as a shadow detached from behind the girder.

  “Looks like I missed the fun.” The visor receded from the helmet, revealing broad cheekbones, dark brows, and an intense interest in Esme.

  She glanced curiously at the newest team member. Clay didn’t bother to introduce her to Specter and circled her waist with his arm, pulling her close against him in a response he couldn’t stop. He might internally cringe at the Cro-Magnon action, but he needed her body, whole and warm, to shake off the lingering effects of Aaron’s capture. He didn’t regret the possessive signal either, given Specter’s continued appraisal of Esme. Thankfully, she didn’t fight him and merely rested against him as they watched Trace shift Aaron’s body over his shoulder.

  Specter moved beside them. “I’ll give you cover to the edge of the grid.”

  Trace nodded, turned back to Esme with a look toward her belly, and then to Clay. “I’ll be expecting a call from you two.”

  Esme ducked her head at the obvious follow-up to Clay’s announcement of her potential condition but said nothing.

  “You both heading home?” While looking at Clay, Ty directed his question to Esme as she stepped away and picked up her gear. “If you ever need anything, Esme, don’t hesitate to call.”

  Clay scowled at Ty, part of him calculating whether they had enough time before the cameras reverted back to Regent control for him to pound a little respect into his friend.

  He relaxed a bit as Esme put her helmet back on and returned to his side. “I’m fine, but thank you for the offer.”

  “The offer’s always open.” Ty hefted his weapon and disappeared behind Trace and Specter.

  Chapter 13

  Esme preceded Clay into the command room. He hadn’t touched her during the return trip other than to hand her a weapon and guide her through the main door with his hand to the small of her back as he canvassed for any hostile presence.

  She watched him pull out a chair for her, place her recon bag on the table, and turn his back to her. He ran a hand along his neck, looking so wary that she decided to back off. If he required time to recoup, she could rein in her immediate impulse to reconcile their issues. She unpacked each item on the table, taking time to assess and organize each one. By the time she was finished, he still hadn’t said anything, but she felt the heat of his stare.

  Leaning against the table, she assessed him, forcing him to endure the same scrutiny. She took in the darkening blue-and-purple discoloration at the edge of his mouth. What she wouldn’t give to have been a fly on the wall in that discussion between Clay and Ty. Then again, all that mattered was now.

  “Your tactic of fabricating my condition was sensational enough to knock Aaron off kilter, but it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  He glanced at her belly, letting his gaze travel up to her breasts and along her neck before he looked her square in the eye. Her skin tingled as if he used his hands. “If you aren’t pregnant already, you soon will be.”

  A quick whoosh of her heart sucked her breath away, yet she refused to let her emotions free. They had ground to cover and understandings to reach. An easy slide into lust would resolve neither. “That assumes I stay here…with you.”

  “You’re my wife. You’re staying here.”

  He’d finally caught her off guard. Before she could question the comment, he launched a virtual screen. Forced several times down the matrimonial path, she was familiar with the legal contract. The names Clayton Ebris and Esme Loures Vier Ebris at the bottom of the document, notarized and registered two days before her supposed death, caused her to sit.

  “I didn’t agree to marriage or to sign that document.”

  “True. I like to think you just weren’t given a chance to say no.” He knelt at her feet, pulled her boot into his lap, and unlaced it. He removed the first and then reached for her other foot.

  “Taking my boots again. Is this my newest form of slavery? Do I ever get to own footwear?”

  Finished, he glanced up. Even without his cyber eye deepening to her golden color, she could read the heat in the darkening blue one. His hands spread her legs. She let them fall open as the warmth of his body pressed against hers. Not certain of his mood or direction, she waited as his lips neared hers and stopped.

  “I’m not taking anything from you, Esme. Not now. Not ever. Your shoes, your clothes, your treasures, even everything I have—are always at your disposal.” Still staring deep into her eyes, he slid his palms beneath her shirt and closed around her rib cage, gently pulling her even nearer. “I’m sorry for earlier. What we shared, how much I wanted you to be mine—was ripped away in a second. I couldn’t deal with losing you. That pain is worse than anything I’ve felt in my life.”

  N
ot possible. She’d been at his side during the surgery. She knew she’d witnessed only a miniscule amount of the anguish in his life. He’d endured pain beyond human limits again and again. Yet the raw, naked want reflected in his eyes and the tension in his expression confirmed his belief.

  “I need you to be mine. I’ll be the husband you deserve in every way that counts. The one who holds you every night, who builds a life with you every day. The one who loves you mind, body, and soul. I’ll be the only man to touch you and the only father to your children.” He dipped his head, his forehead pressed against her collarbone as if in prayer.

  Such a flaying of his soul should engender a wholehearted response, but the two of them weren’t ready yet. His words were glorious and poignant. However, she needed him to understand, to believe. His words meant nothing unless he accepted her commitment as well.

  “Ask me, Clay.”

  His head shook infinitesimally, and she stilled it between her palms, brushed her cheek against his crown, and whispered, “You can’t have this with doubts. It’ll be an illusion. One that will crumble and leave you emptier than before. Ask me.”

  He’d stilled against her, only the tightening of his fingers on her body announcing his desire to refuse. He raised his head. “I love you, Esme. Be my wife. Stay with me. Choose this. Choose me.”

  Her hand beneath his jaw forced his head back so he couldn’t miss her words or expression. Her fingers brushed at the bruise. A slight trace along his stubble and cheekbone riveted his gaze to her, but she held off. No quick endings here. He needed to remember this lesson and believe in her conviction. “You can manufacture documents, hide my shoes and clothes, chain me to a wall…”

  He flinched at the reminder. She feathered her fingers over his forehead until he was present in the moment again.

  “I chose you weeks ago, Clayton Ebris. The day you put me in the scanner—perhaps before. You’ve empowered me to heal, but I can undo locks and find my own way out of mazes. I’ve been here by my choice, not your design.”