by Moira Rogers
She couldn’t deny the capability. “They have the vehicles and the ADS equipment to do it, I’m afraid.”
He sighed, as if he’d expected as much but hadn’t wanted it confirmed. “Can you show me which roads are still passable?”
“That I can definitely do.” She unzipped the bag, withdrew the maps two at a time and laid them out on the bed. “Come closer.”
He obeyed in silence, moving to stand so close that his arm brushed her shoulder as he bent over the bed and studied the first of the maps. “You drew these yourself?”
“Mmm.” He was warm and he smelled good—two things she didn’t usually associate with bloodthirsty monsters. “I worked from pre-Fall renderings. I used to mark old maps, but after a while they just look like a jumbled mess. Sometimes starting fresh is better.”
He traced a finger over one road. “There’s something to be said for physical copies. Nothing is secure in the network. Or real.”
“Cache has scanned them all, of course. She had to in order to integrate them with the trucks’ navigation systems.” Devi unrolled another map and smoothed a wrinkled edge. “But these…remind me of my dad. He and my grandfather had whole books of them, road atlases with every highway and interstate route marked. I didn’t have storybooks, but I had those maps.” She’d spent hours poring over them, tracing all the lines, blue and yellow and red, and asking questions about the places at the ends of those roads.
The corner of his mouth twitched up. “My mother loves printed books. My stepfather never thought much of how inefficient they are, but it didn’t stop him from building her a tidy little library of them. What he could find, anyway.”
She laughed at the thought of trying to haul that sort of thing around on a rig. “The electronics don’t bother me, really, not even the maps. This is all just me being a sentimental fool.”
His smile made him seem more human. “We’re all sentimental about something.”
Her heart hitched, and the heat flooded back with a vengeance. It seemed that nothing could distract her from his appeal for long, and that made him more dangerous than if he had been a monster.
Devi took a deep breath. “So what’s the deal? The information in exchange for what?”
“Fuel.” Was it her imagination, or was his voice a little lower? Rougher. “We can provide as much as you need, and you can pay us in information instead of credits or goods.”
An arrangement that certainly worked more to his advantage. “I think the information is worth both. Fuel and credits.”
Fire sparked in his eyes—not all anger, but enough to give his fierce expression a sweet edge of danger. “I can always send men out to look at the roads. You’ll have a harder time getting fuel. Supply and demand, my pretty little hauler.”
She reached for the nearest map and began to reroll it. “It’d take you months to map these routes. It’s worth it and you know it.”
His hand shot out and caught her wrist, fingers trapping without digging too deep. “How many credits?”
He was touching her, and her brain drew its own conclusions about the sensuality inherent in that touch. It didn’t matter if he’d intended it as a flirtation—it became one as soon as his fingers closed around her wrist, and her body throbbed.
A smile curved his lips, and the callused pad of his thumb scraped over her pulse. “How many credits, Devi?”
The low rasp jarred her out of her sexual haze. “Eight hundred. As a bonus for my crew.”
Zel slid his fingers lower, then twisted his hand to clasp hers in a firm grip. “Done.”
She had to swallow to speak. “I’ll have Cache send you the most up-to-date files I have.”
“Thank you. Have her send us your fuel requirements too.”
He hadn’t released her yet. “I can discuss that with your second when I meet with her, can’t I?”
“Yes.” Letting go of her hand, he took a hasty step back. “Yes, of course. Hailey can arrange everything.”
“Good.” Devi rubbed her wrist. “In the meantime, are we under lockdown?”
That wiped the soft look from his eyes. He straightened and nodded curtly. “It’s better this way, for now. Better for everyone. You have run of the guest quarters, and if you need anything, the guard posted at the entrance can get it for you.”
Better for everyone. If he truly believed the words, it meant he had people who wouldn’t hesitate to pick a fight with her crew—or worse.
Chapter Six
Connecting to… RochesterBlackhole
Message from @root rip: Next person I catch sneaking onto the secure server to access XXX clubs is losing their entertainment privileges for a month. Untraceable access is for OFFICIAL BUSINESS. Jerk off on your own time.
Rerouting to <
<
Authentication confirmed. Prepare to unleash your darkest fantasies.
REMINDER: Solicitation is strictly prohibited on the main floors. Those interested in operating as a for-hire escort must obtain a licensing application from administration. Violators will be permanently banned.
In retrospect, his second mistake was letting the woman blow him.
The first was coming to the club early, but his mind raced and his skin itched and he still had two damn hours until his assigned meeting with his contact. If he couldn’t get outside, at least he could get out of his skin, but the stinging, grating discomfort from the Global’s anti-demon signal had honed his already sharp temper to a vicious edge.
There was only one respite in the Global—or only one he knew of. Net-hackers had been building secret, underground communities in deserted corners of the network for years, but this club was his favorite. Whoever ran it had done a dangerous thing, tinkering with the anti-demon signal until it evidenced itself in throbbing heat instead of pulsing irritation. Not exactly arousing, but far less distracting and a lot more comfortable.
Especially if you were standing in a club full of halfblood demons and the humans who got off on the danger of fucking them.
Of course, it was all but impossible to tell which was which. Tradition held that humans dressed in black and demonbloods in red, but Zel always arrived in black. Habit, because he didn’t want to risk someone knowing what he was if he encountered them elsewhere. Better to have a reputation as a man with a demon fetish.
The woman on her knees in front of him was as human as they came, a sleepy-eyed nymphet with black hair, alabaster skin and a blood red dress that meant she was trying to pass herself off as demonic. Probably hoping to find human men who were into the idea of doing the nasty with a woman who had a little evil in her.
The layers of lies and deception were tedious.
So was the blowjob, which meant the entire fucking thing was a huge, dumb mistake. Or maybe his only mistake had been seeking out a woman who looked nothing like Devi, as if he could drive her bronzed skin and tawny hair from his mind by overwriting it with something different.
Idiot.
She might have been a liar, just like him, but the woman wasn’t stupid, a fact she proved when she lifted her head with a sigh. “You’re not into this.” Still trying to salvage the encounter, but a thread of exasperation had crept into her sultry tone.
He wasn’t, but retreating wasn’t in him. Nor was losing. Maybe this was more Lorenzo’s kind of fight than his own, but the objective remained the same—vanquish the opponent. In this case, leave her trembling and undone. So he dragged the woman to her feet and urged her back against the wall. “Close your eyes.”
She went, but she stared at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” They were in a dark corner, and his bulk kept her body mostly shielded from the rest of the room. It would be fast, give her a little relief to make up for the fact that his heart wasn’t in it—and satisfy himself with the knowledge that he wasn’t inept with all women. Just the one I want. “Close your eyes.”
Her lashes flut
tered down, and she exhaled a shaky breath. “The forceful thing is hot.”
“Then maybe you should be here looking for demons instead of humans.” He didn’t even have to slide his fingers under her excuse for a dress. The heel of his hand worked fine, especially when the friction of fabric did most of the work for him. She trembled and whimpered, so needy she seemed to be half-starved for pleasure, but even splayed against the wall, thrusting her hips to meet his hand, she was totally passive.
Hard to imagine Devi being passive. Stupid to imagine Devi at all, with his hand between another woman’s virtual thighs. He’d made sure he couldn’t pretend, but now he wished he hadn’t. Maybe a long, hard ride with his fist clenched in curly golden hair would shake him out of his insanity. His cock might take more interest in the whole affair if he could close his eyes and feel sleek, warm flesh over hard muscles, the wicked contrast of soft and strong.
He was still thinking about Devi when a strangled moan alerted him to the fact that his playmate had come. She clutched at his shirt and shuddered through the pleasure, and he felt guilty enough about not noticing that he focused his attention long enough to get her off twice more before leaving her sprawled on a nearby couch, weak-limbed and purring like a kitten.
Graham stood just outside the room, smoking a cigarette, his coat collar turned up like some centuries-old secret agent. “You’re early.”
“So are you.” Zel crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. The only smell that registered was the pungent scent of Graham’s cigarette. No trace of the woman’s pleasure lingered, no evidence at all of their encounter, and it underscored all the things he hated about clinical, impersonal sex in the network. No muss, no fuss.
No satisfaction.
Graham glanced in the room and nodded politely as the woman in the red dress walked out. His disinterest turned to mild embarrassment when she stopped and whispered thanks in Zel’s ear.
When she’d gone, Graham crushed out his cigarette. “Heard you had a recent delivery, a real special one. Eyes and ears.”
“More than we wanted of both,” Zel agreed easily. “Things are all tangled up.”
“Maybe we can discuss it over beers sometime.” Graham raised his eyebrows. “If you don’t open the package and turn it on, someone might wonder why.”
Cryptic enough, but Zel had no trouble interpreting. The Nicollet council hadn’t heard from their spy, but if they didn’t soon, they’d know something was wrong. “It had a user manual, but damn if I know if the thing’s outdated.” Is the plan still solid?
“You’ll muddle through. At this point, anything’s better than nothing.”
It was a dangerous risk, but Graham only had so much access to the inner workings of the city council. Enough to know that a spy was on the way, but not enough to know why. If Trip could pull off his crazy stunt, if the psychic could get the right info, if no one caught them… If, if, if. Too many variables, too few answers.
At least he could find out one thing. “Heard any rumblings about my new friends? Too many pretty ladies.”
“Happy coincidence, as far as I know.” Graham almost smiled. “You should enjoy the view while you can.”
It didn’t absolve Devi of suspicion, but it helped. “Will do. How’s your view these days?”
“A little overgrown, but I can see well enough. May have to work on those obstructions soon, though.”
“If it gets too bad, you can always crash with us for a while. I know your allergies act up where you are.” As if the word allergies could encompass the pain Graham lived with as a halfblood hiding his nature among humans. Visiting the club with the screwy ADS was the closest thing the man got to respite. So much time linked up would have driven Zel homicidal by now, but Graham had always been a law unto himself.
Now, he looked calm. Almost serene. “A few sniffles never hurt anyone, my friend.”
Crazy motherfucker. Either that or he got off on the pain, which was the sort of thing Zel was more comfortable not considering too closely. “Good to hear. I gotta get a move on. Just remember the light’s always on.”
“I’ll do that.” Graham shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Say hello to her for me, would you?”
Zel played dumb. “Who, Hail? Girl looks like she’s carrying triplets these days.”
“Mmm, I meant your guest. But you do have your hands full.” He turned away. “Take care, Dominic.”
Dominic. It was his given name, but it sounded odd coming from anyone but his mother. Of course, considering where they were, it was smart. Men and women with a demon kink tended to know their halfbloods, and Zel wasn’t a common name.
Graham was, but Zel wasn’t taking any chances. “Night, man. Catch you next time.”
“Of course you will.” He disappeared into the shadows, still looking like the villain in an old black-and-white espionage film, the kind Trip would dig out of the archives and try to make people watch in the common rooms.
The woman he’d been with was probably still around, but Zel had no desire to find her again. He couldn’t even work up the enthusiasm to find someone else. Pure, old-fashioned lust had worked its way under his skin, and it wouldn’t leave until Devi did.
Chapter Seven
Zel’s second proved to be a petite brunette with mocha skin and shockingly blue eyes, one who looked like she might go into labor at any second. She smiled at Devi, dismissed Lorenzo with a wave and gestured to a worn but well-padded chair. “I hope you don’t mind being casual. I’m more comfortable on the sofa.”
“I understand.” Zel’s reluctance to have the woman trek out to the visitors’ area made sense. Devi perched on the edge of the chair. “Should you be…dealing with me at the moment? I can come back later.”
“I’m fine. The men overreact because neither of them has the slightest experience with pregnant women. Besides, I don’t think you mean to cause me any distress.”
“Not in the least.”
“Good. How is your crew settling in? Is everyone comfortable enough? And your girl, Cache? Is she feeling better?”
Devi inclined her head. Cache had healed completely—physically. Dealing with the psychological aftermath of the demon attack would be far messier. “I meant to ask if I could thank your healer. Rosalyn, I think?”
Regret painted Hailey’s features. “I can pass on your thanks, but for now it’s probably not a good idea. I’m sure you can understand that for a community like Rochester, a healer is a precious commodity.”
You’re not a guest, Devi. “I understand.”
“I hope you’ll also understand that it isn’t personal. You’ve come upon us at an unsettled time, and tensions are running particularly high. Usually I’m able to ease them but…” She laid a hand on her rounded belly. “I don’t move quite as quickly as I used to.”
There was obviously more to it, but Devi didn’t push. “I can endure a lot, as long as my crew is safe. But I won’t be able to reassure them forever.”
“Of course. Shall we dispense with the sweet diplomacy and speak frankly?”
Relief suffused Devi. “I’m not very good with anything else.”
“I am, but I have an advantage. Do you know much about what happens when someone with summoner heritage mates with someone with demon blood?”
“No.”
A small, tight smile. “You get me. My intuition is…above average. Almost magical, in fact. And under normal circumstances, I could reassure the people here that you mean us no harm and that would be the end of it.”
“But not right now, because there’s been trouble,” Devi surmised.
“Trouble I’m not entirely removed from,” Hailey confirmed. “It’s easy to disregard the opinions of a highly pregnant woman who just lost the father of her child. Whether they think I have ulterior motives or that I’m crazy from grief or hormones, the end result is the same.”
That left no quick fix for the suspicion they faced, and Devi had seen unchecked suspicion turn to pers
ecution far too often. “Then it’s better for everyone if we get the hell out of here as soon as possible.”
“I wish I didn’t agree, but there’s no point in pretending. Zel mentioned that you need fuel, but is there any other damage to your trucks that needs repair?”
She and Juliet still had to get under the trucks and do a thorough inventory of their structural integrity and mechanisms. “So far, nothing that can’t be fixed with some sheet metal and stamp rivets. But I can’t know for sure yet.”
“Then I’ll ask my assistant to bring our fuel supervisor over. No one gets near the equipment without his say-so, but if you want to make your own fuel, you can. We can provide someone to assist you.”
“Thank you.” Maybe they’d have been better off paying through the nose than bartering with information but, at this point, she didn’t care. The deal was done, and what she needed to do was get them refueled and gone.
And then I won’t have to think about Zel anymore.
Bank vaults were good for holding weapons. In Zel’s opinion, they also made excellent prisons.
Rochester had never had much need for a holding cell. On the rare occasions someone stirred up trouble, it was easier to toss them into a spare room to think about what they’d done. On the even rarer occasions where someone did something so terrible they needed long-term or high-security confinement, they were banished.
Neither option would have done for their council spy, so Zel had cleared out one of the smaller vaults on the far side of the settlement and placed guards outside. The place had a musty, stale odor and was dusty as hell, but he wasn’t terribly concerned with comfort.
A few days in a dark metal box should have made Elan Cyrus more willing to talk, but when Zel spun his chair around and sat down, he found his restrained adversary every bit as confrontational as he had been the day they’d caught him.