Right Through Me (The Obsidian Files #1)(114)

“And no, you can’t lock me up,” she said. “Mark Olund does evil shit like that, but people who love and trust and respect each other don’t. I won’t be stupid. I’m not volunteering for actual combat, believe me. But I’m taking my chances tomorrow.”

He hung onto himself until he could speak normally. “Caro, I just want to keep you safe.”

“You gave me what I need to stay safe,” she said. “It’s an incredible gift. I’ll always be grateful. Now trust me. The way I trust you.”

He closed his eyes. The combat program made his body tense, buzzing with desperate urgency. Kill plans winking and flashing, fountains of scrolling data, all tinted hot red. And her hand pressing his heart. Keeping him steady.

She was right, that her presence made their odds better. And he f*cking hated it.

“You’ll follow orders,” he said harshly. “Do as I say. Show yourself when I say, disappear when I say. Go where I tell you. On the double.”

Her smile was radiant. “Of course.” She bent to press a soft kiss to his jaw. “Just one more thing.”

“Spare me.”

“Sleep,” she said.

That took him entirely by surprise. “What? Huh?”

“I mean real sleep,” she said. “Not that fake soldier sentinel bullshit. I’m talking real, normal, human sleep. That’s what you need.”

He was baffled. “I don’t remember how. It’s been years.”

Caro tugged the covers down from the bed, nudging him until he rolled off them. She slid between the sheets and held out her arms. “It’s easy. Come on, try it. I’ll hold you.”

He wasted no time taking her up on that offer, settling her lithe body over his non-dominant arm. She snuggled close, petting his chest hair, easing her smooth thigh over his. Felt great. But he wasn’t sleepy. Nor was he likely to be, ever.

But who gave a shit? This was right where he wanted to be. He’d fake it if it made her happy. Forever.

But eventually, he actually did synch himself to the slow, hypnotic pulse of Caro’s colors. If he focused on that, he almost succeeded in not thinking about what he was risking tomorrow.

Almost.





Chapter 32


Mark spoke into his wrist com. “How many thermals can you see?”

Static buzzed until Ty responded. “Four, inside. Three men, from the size of them. There’s a smaller one with them who could be a woman.”

Mark pondered that. The possibility that Asa Stone had actually kept to the terms of their bargain made him even more suspicious than an obvious betrayal. Stone was playing a deeper game. That fact stood out. Mark had studied the man exhaustively in the past few days.

He tracked the multiple images on the monitors that came from the vidcams of the slave soldiers, as well as the images from the brain-linked drones that the slave soldiers controlled. Brenner was on his way to verify that Caroline Bishop was physically at the meeting place. The others he had outfitted with cloaking gear and sent out into the forest to encircle the ruined, abandoned nineteenth century mansion.

Mark hated the place. It was a bizarre choice. Parts of it had collapsed and been taken over by invasive trees, or covered with a strangling ivy. Too big, too rambling. Full of potential hiding spots.

The drones were equipped with cutting edge visual tech, but watching the scenes through inferior mechanical eyes irritated the hell out of Mark. The drones and the slave soldiers could both detect heat signatures, but no one besides Mark could read and analyze an energy sig. The Eyes Guys had been anomalous, developing that unique skill amongst themselves in the Midlands hellhole. Brain training by brute necessity.

He saw no human thermals other than those Ty had already specified in the crumbling building or in the woods. Just small woodland animals. Still, he was uneasy.

Brenner careened toward the main entrance on a motorcycle. He’d been the obvious choice of canary for this coal mine. His annoying verbal glitch made him Mark’s least favorite slave soldier. Thirty million dollar investment or not, Mark was hoping Brenner would die on this mission. It would save Mark the hassle of killing him.

Brenner slowed to a stop. His vidcam image jerked and bobbed as he dismounted, but it soon steadied, allowing Mark to see the man who walked out the front entrance. His appearance matched the sketches and descriptions that Mark had unearthed about the mysterious Asa Stone. Mark had found no obvious explanation for Stone’s connection with Obsidian, though, and the blank spot bothered him.

Stone was subtle, arrogant, and fearless. A bad combo. He did not give a f*ck how many crime bosses he inconvenienced. He appeared to have a death wish.

Today was his lucky day. He’d come to just the place to get it granted.

Stone was a big, thick-muscled brute. Buzzed-off dark hair and cold gray eyes. Mark was sure he’d never met him before, but something about his face was naggingly familiar. He would need to see Stone’s sig to pinpoint it. But he’d satisfy his curiosity soon enough.

Stone gave Brenner a once-over, dismissed him, and focused on the vidcam attached to Brenner’s coat. “Who’s this clown?” Stone said, addressing Mark directly.

“Olund wants to see the girl before he comes in himself,” Brenner said stolidly.

Again, Stone’s level gaze reminded Mark of something, or someone. The way he was so absolutely convinced that he had the upper hand.