Chapter Seven

“You’re a terrorist.” Striker folded his arms and glared down at the woman he’d claimed. The woman who was now his responsibility, and whose expertise he badly needed to help his team come to terms with the anomalies in their genetics. Anomalies that would get them all killed if they were ever discovered.

She shot to her feet. “I am not.”

“Yet you admit you’re involved with Freedom?”

“I pass on information. That’s it. And the information I’ve been able to give them hasn’t even been that useful. It’s mainly about the work I’m doing. Nothing earth-shattering or innovative, only run-of-the-mill biotech.”

He pointed at her head. “They download your data?”

“No. CommTECH would know if someone else accessed it. I had a secure communications link, and I contacted them once a week to tell what little I knew.”

“They’re looking for a way to take down CommTECH.” It wasn’t a question. Freedom was very vocal about their aims. They wanted a world run by elected officials—the way it used to be—instead of a world run by big business.

“They intend to take down the big four. To wipe the slate clean. Start again. Build a system that favors the poor. One that gives people like me choices. Right now, there aren’t any. You either sign away your life to a company for an education, or you scrape a living doing whatever you can. That isn’t a choice. It’s slavery.”

“Yeah, yeah, Freedom is noble. They’re fighting the good fight. Let’s arm the proletariat and rise up against our oppressors.” It was the main theme of every history book he’d been forced to read in high school.

“You’re being facetious.”

“It’s one of my many skills. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it when you were making inquiries with your Freedom buddies. Did they tell you where to find me?”

“Yes, they gave me your location when I messaged my contact after I got the order to come in for an upgrade. They said you had the skills to help me. For a price.”

Striker didn’t like that one bit. He thought he was flying under the radar—from official and non-official organizations alike. “They told you to get to La Paz?”

“I worked that part out on my own. Where else would I find the antidote?”

The look on her face said she thought he was a complete idiot for asking. That attitude would help her cause. Not.

Striker’s eye shot to the window as he heard the low hum of an approaching hover-vehicle. “Don’t move.”

He strode over and glanced out. Mace. He headed to the broken door to let his teammate in, checking the street behind the big man. It was empty. “Where’s your other half?”

“She’ll be here soon. She’s busy spreading misinformation.” He held up a thin scanner. “I brought this. Better safe than sorry.”

“Yeah.” Striker motioned into the room. “Friday, this is Mace, he’s is gonna scan you for trackers.”

“I told you it’s impossible for any electronic device to work in me right now.”

“Humor him.” He was seriously beginning to regret his decision to take the woman, and her many problems, on.

“Arms out, honey.” His second-in-command grinned down at Friday. At six-and-a-half-feet tall, Mace towered over her. And yet, she clearly wasn’t intimidated. In fact, she seemed more interested in the scanner than the man.

“That’s a DC-120.” She pointed at the scanner. “There’s a more up-to-date model. You need to get one.”

“I’ll get right on that.” Mace ran the scanner over the curve of her waist.

“You’re doing it wrong.” She frowned. It was cute.

With an irritated growl, the big guy glared at her. “There’s a right way?”

She huffed out a breath. “Yes, there’s a right way. That scanner works best when you work your way down in a circular motion rather than a straight line. It has a limited field of operation, which means it can sometimes miss items. A circular motion ensures there isn’t any chance of skipping even an inch of skin. Do you want me to show you what to do?”

“No, I think I got it.” He shook his head, then resumed the scan. Making sure to do it properly this time. “Clear,” he told Striker when he’d finished.

To her credit, Friday didn’t point out that she’d told him so. Although the look she gave him was the same one his kindergarten teacher had given him every time he’d tried to eat the paste.

“Could just be luck,” Mace said, referring to Enforcement knowing their whereabouts. But his face made it clear he believed in luck about as much as Striker did.

“They’re getting information on her whereabouts from somewhere. There’s no such thing as a coincidence.”

“She tell anyone what she was doing?”

“She is standing right here. Wondering why you’re talking about her instead of to her. And no, I didn’t tell anyone.” Friday folded her arms over her ugly jumpsuit and glared up at Mace, who seemed bewildered by her.

“She told Freedom,” Striker felt the need to point out.

It was his turn to be on the receiving end of her glare. “They don’t count. They would never sell me out to CommTECH or Enforcement.”

“Freedom?” All amusement drained from the big guy’s face. “You have got to be kidding me?” He railed at Striker. “She’s a terrorist. They’re never going to stop hunting her. Or anyone who helps her. You need to cut her loose.” He looked back at Friday. “You’re on your own.”

“No.” Striker strode forward, unconsciously positioning himself between Friday and the man who had the dubious honor of being his best friend. “We have a deal. I promised my help. We need her.”

“We can get someone else. Genetic scientists are a dime a dozen. We can get one who doesn’t have the entire Enforcement organization on her ass.”

“It’s not that easy. You know how hard it would be to get one we could trust.”

Mace barked out a mirthless laugh. “Trust? Are you listening to anything I’m telling you? She’s in league with a terrorist organization. She sells secrets. She spies. She’s the last person on the planet we can trust.”

Friday pushed out from behind him, trying to get to Mace. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side, uncertain why he felt the need to protect their client from his teammate, but unable to stop himself from doing it anyway. Mace watched the move with narrowed eyes.

“I’m standing right here,” she snapped. “She is perfectly capable of talking for herself. And she has a name. My name is Friday.” She struggled, clearly wanting to face-off against Mace—a man who was more than a foot taller than her and had at least four times her bulk.

“Okay, Friday,” Mace growled. “You want to tell us how we can trust you? How you’re not going to put our whole team at risk? How you wouldn’t sell our secrets to the highest bidder? Or spy for Freedom, if you thought anything you found out about us would help the cause? Tell me, Friday, tell me exactly why we should trust you. Why we should help you.” He didn’t wait for an answer before looking back up at Striker, his dark eyes flashing with anger. “Cut her loose. This is a mistake. We can’t take the risk.”

“I don’t sell secrets.” Friday’s outrage made her voice rise.

“You spied for Freedom. You’re one huge walking, talking trust-issue, waiting to bite us on the ass.”

She opened her mouth to object, and he squeezed her waist to silence her.

“This is my call.” He kept his voice even, free of any emotion, wanting them both to know he was deadly serious. “You heard the deal I made with her. We have her for a year. No questions asked. We have complete control of her for a year.”

He felt a shudder rush through Friday and could only imagine the twisted things going through her overactive mind. She paled as she looked up at Mace, making him want to reassure her again that she wouldn’t be touched against her will. Not by anyone. Not ever. Not if he had his way.

“What happens at the end of the year, genius?” Mace wasn’t cowed by either of them. “What’s to keep her from spilling everything she finds out once the year is up?”

“I won’t.” Friday’s confident answer might have meant a little more if she’d known exactly what her promise meant.

Striker ignored her assurance. It was easier than trying to ignore the heat of her body as it pressed against his. Even as he focused on Mace, he was still aware of her curves beneath her ugly jumpsuit. Her softness pressing against his hardness. He shook his head to clear it, aware that his increasingly intense reaction to her wasn’t in character for him. Sure, he found her attractive, but the need to keep her close and protect her was growing by the minute.

“Yeah,” Mace mocked her. “You’ll keep our secrets. There’s no way you’ll run to Freedom with them the first chance you get.”

“I won’t do that. I wouldn’t.” She looked up at Striker. “You have to believe me. I will never speak about what happens during our year together. You have my word.”

Mace snorted.

“We don’t have time to deal with this right now,” Striker said to his second-in-command.

“Will you listen to yourself?” The big guy threw up his hands in disgust. “You’re risking all of us on an unknown future. On a woman who is a proven security risk.”

Striker held his friend’s eyes as everything within him stilled. They needed Friday. He was beginning to think he needed her. His reaction to her was visceral. All of his instincts, his changed instincts, were telling him to keep her close. He broke the stare-off to look down at the woman in his grasp. She was pale, but stoic. A woman used to making the best of some crummy life situations.

“After you take the antidote,” he said. “Will your implants automatically reconnect to the grid?”

“No.” She glanced at Mace. “They can be removed and analyzed, but they won’t reconnect. The only way to get any information off them would be manually.”

He could see her big brain working overtime, trying to find a solution to their trust dilemma that would reassure them.

“Are you willing to sever your ties to Freedom in order to come with us?”

Mace scoffed at the question. “Like she couldn’t contact them again in the future.”

Friday’s face paled further. Her huge eyes became more vivid as she watched them. He knew she was struggling with a decision. He also knew when she’d reached it. Her shoulders slumped slightly, but her chin remained high. There was resolve in her eyes.

“I will sever my ties.” She licked dry lips. “I’ll also agree to be implanted with a monitoring chip once the Interferan-X is out of my system.”

Striker’s hold tightened around her waist. His gaze flicked to his friend, noting the shock and reluctant admiration in Mace’s eyes, before turning his attention back to the brave woman in his hold.

“You know what that means, chère?” He deliberately pitched his voice soft, soothing.

She swallowed hard and nodded once. “It means you will know everything I do and everyone I contact. It means you can control my communications. For the rest of my life.” She looked away from him.

He heard the words she didn’t say. It meant she would never truly be free. The hold CommTECH had over her would be replaced with his hold. Part of him wanted to shout his objection, to throw her over his shoulder and take her somewhere private where he could reassure her using his hands and mouth. The urge, the need, to keep her safe and give her the freedom she desperately wanted, rose in him like a wave. One that almost drowned him. Instead of doing any of those things, he looked at the man he trusted most in the world. “That good enough for you?”

“Yeah.” Mace sounded a little stunned and a lot impressed. He considered Friday the same way he did those puzzles he obsessed over.

Striker understood. There was a whole lot about their client that got under a man’s skin and made him think.

An alarm blared from Mace’s wrist unit. His mouth thinned as he checked it. “Enforcement breached the perimeter beacons I set up. We need to get out of here. Now.”

They were out of time. He cursed, grabbed Friday’s arm, and started to run for the broken front door.

“Wait.” She shook free and rushed back across the room. Hurriedly, she dug into her pocket and came out with a credit chip, which she left on the counter.

When she turned back and saw them staring at her, she blushed. “We broke their door, ate their food, and drank their water. I don’t have enough to cover what we took, but it will help.” She kept her eyes low and snapped the words as though she was ashamed of what she’d done.

Something cracked around his heart. “Make sure it’s covered,” he said to his second.

Mace nodded as he frowned at Friday, who’d just added something else for him to puzzle over. “You take the bike. Sandi will be here any minute. I’ll hold down the fort until then.”

With a nod of thanks, Striker climbed onto the hoverbike. “Get on,” he ordered Friday, who stood staring at the machine.

“Do you have something against passenger pods?” she grumbled as she climbed onto the seat behind him.

Hoverbikes weren’t designed to take two on the seat, and it was a tight squeeze. He could feel her plastered flat against his back, her breasts pressed into his muscles.

“Be safe,” he said to his friend.

The big man nodded as Striker started the bike and headed southwest to the border wall, aware they had bare minutes of a head start. There was no time to waste; he had to get Friday past the wall and into the Red Zone before they were both killed.

Or worse, captured.