Chapter Twenty-Seven

Without proper documentation, it was almost impossible to fly into La Paz’s airport. That was why they landed on a small private airfield in the town of Oruro, three hours south of the capital. The permits to drive past the checkpoints and into the city were easier to get than the ones needed to land at the airport.

“You sure we won’t have a problem getting into the city?”

With twenty-four hours until her time ran out, Friday was beginning to feel pressure in every single second.

“Relax, the paperwork is solid. We’ll sail through the highway checkpoints no problem.” Striker gave her a reassuring smile as they headed for their rental car. “Plus, nobody knows we’re here. We flew under the radar, in a jet equipped with cyber repellant shields—”

“Is that another technical term? Like magic cream?”

He cocked the eyebrow over his unpatched eye, making her miss the strange iris that was now securely hidden. “You mocking me, bébé? After I spent the flight taking you to paradise? I feel used.”

“About that.” She climbed into the passenger seat. “I can’t remember touching you. You mess with my mind, and then it’s hard to remember what I planned to do. I didn’t get my time exploring, and I want it—without you distracting me. When am I going to get to advanced level? When will it be okay for me to take the lead?”

“Uh, never.” He pulled the car out of the underground parking garage beside the tiny airport.

“That’s not what you said on the jet. You said all I needed was practice. That’s why you kept waking me for more sex.”

His laugh was so mischievous it almost made her smile. Almost.

“I woulda said anything to get your mind off the highway to crazy and on to what we were doing. Chocolate-flavored cocks?” He grinned over at her. “Let’s face it, bébé. You ain’t ever gonna be cut out for advanced level. Best you let me do all the heavy lifting when it comes to sex.”

She stared at him, wishing she could see into his mind. He was far too composed for her liking. And then it hit her. “You lied to me! There aren’t any levels, are there?”

With a huff, she folded her arms and tried to block out his laughter. She’d been conned. Admittedly, she’d loved every second of it, but that wasn’t the point. She’d wanted to investigate him. To learn him. To get to know every inch of him. And that would never happen if he kept distracting her.

“I can’t believe you told me there were levels.”

“I can’t believe you fell for it.”

“You’re evil.”

“Bébé, I was desperate. You were planning genetic experiments to turn my cock into a candy bar. I had to do something to get us back on track.”

“I’m never going to believe a word you say ever again.”

He shrugged. “I can live with that.”

Impossible man. She ignored his smug smile and focused on the scenery. Oruro was a nowhere place. Once famous for its mining—silver and tin—now it was a city overtaken by dust from the high desert. Even though it was still populated, it felt abandoned.

“The Technology War started in Bolivia,” Friday said absently as she watched the crumbling brick houses zoom past.

“I know. I was around when it happened.”

She felt her cheeks color. “I’m sorry, I forget.”

“It’s all good. You’ve had a lot to take in, and a short amount of time to do it.”

She angled in her seat, turning toward him. “Did you join the fight down here?”

“No. I was deployed in the Middle East when the fight over Bolivia’s mining operations started.”

“They were mining for lithium.” She searched through her memories. “The mineral found in the salt flats south of here. The one used in batteries for old cell phones.”

He chuckled. “We considered them cutting edge at the time. But yeah, it was used for batteries. As far as I can gather, it was also in short supply, that’s why the big companies started putting pressure on Bolivia to hand over its mining operations.”

“But the demand for lithium didn’t last long, it was only a few years later that they discovered lanthanum worked better. Now everyone’s searching for ladmium.”

“You know what bothers me?” He flashed her a grin. “The person who named all these minerals had no damn imagination.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “The minerals are related, that’s why they sound the same. Although, to be technically correct, ladmium isn’t used for batteries.”

“You’re just aching to tell me what it is used for, aren’t you?”

She tried hard to keep her mouth shut. To keep the information to herself. But it wanted to get out. “It’s a conductor used in implanted data chips. It functions as a bridge between the brain and the data chip’s receptor. The chip then converts the electrical pulses of the brain into other signals, which communicate with tech outside the body. Ladmium’s a really fascinating element to study. It uses the electricity within the body as a power generator for the chip, as well as enabling the information to move smoothly between biological and technological elements.”

“You make me want to kiss you when you go all geeky on me.”

His words made her feel warm inside and embarrassed at the same time. “Lithium, the cell phone battery element, was found in huge quantities in the salt flats. Bolivia, back before the war, was an extremely poor country, but one with integrity. They didn’t want to rape the landscape to get to the mineral, and even though demand was high, they slowed down output to preserve their landscape.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “They were all about integrity. Limiting the amount of lithium produced had nothing to do with driving up the price.”

He had a point. “Whatever the government’s motives, it was the fight over lithium that started the war.”

“Because the companies tried to bribe Bolivia with free cutting-edge implants in order to get their hands on the lithium. I remember. They told Bolivians they would be ahead of the world, that they’d always have access to the latest gadgets. That they’d get their implants first—at a greatly reduced price, of course.” He snorted. “The companies kept talking about how great it would be to be able to talk to your TV or make a call with just a thought. I remember thinking that only a complete nutjob would have a chip implanted into their head so they could talk to their TV. At the time, the news was full of stories about how radiation from your cell phone could fry your brain. Having that same technology inside your body seemed like a mighty irrational reaction to the radiation warnings.”

“I have a data chip inside my head. More than one, in fact. Does that make me a nutjob?” She frowned. “I don’t exactly know what a nutjob is, but it sounds insulting.”

“Bébé,” he said on a sigh as he reached over and threaded his fingers with hers. “We live in a different time, with different dangers. You said it yourself, when you were arguing with Mace, most of the problems we worried about then have solutions now. You aren’t a nutjob.” He grinned. “Mostly.”

He pulled her hand to his mouth and nibbled on her knuckles, at once derailing her thoughts and stealing her irritation. She narrowed her eyes at him. Did he know the effect he had on her? Was he doing it on purpose? He looked innocent enough, but she could never really tell with him.

“I didn’t think data chip implants were that common before the war.”

“They’d taken off in the States.” He frowned, remembering. “Even the military was looking into whether they’d be an asset for their men. Seemed like everybody was vying for the latest advance, something to give them the edge. Implants were everywhere for a few years, different companies bringing out new, improved versions every few months. For a while, it was like the smartphone competition years earlier. They all wanted to corner the market. Which made the big companies rush out their products. A lot of the first implants were substandard, and people got hurt.”

“And that’s what started the war.”

“Yep. Not everyone trusted the implant technology. A lot of us thought they were rushing things. We figured there had to be repercussions from having a mini-computer in your head. Bad repercussions, of the fatal kind.”

“It isn’t a mini-computer. Data chips are more like storage devices with communication capability.”

He arched his eyebrows at her, a look that said she was being too literal again. “The world split once the Bolivians refused the offer of cheap implants. Soon the two sides were protesting, then fighting. It got bad fast. The people who thought implanted tech was the next great advance for mankind wanted to force it on the rest of us. And the people who didn’t want it were terrified the other half would manage to force it into them. Tension was building globally. The whole damn planet was a powder keg. The fight over mining rights in Bolivia was just the match that made it blow.”

“I don’t understand.” She shifted some in her seat, still holding on to his hand. “You were in the army, working for the Northern Territory government, but you agreed with the Coalition Countries when it came to implanted tech. You were obviously against it. How could you fight for something you disagreed with?”

Striker’s shoulders tensed. “First, I wasn’t fighting for a cause. I was fighting for my country, which back then was the United States of America. The country was under threat, and I was sent to protect it. That’s all there was to it. I did my duty. Second, back then, I lived in a country that had a democratic government. One that answered to its people. I never, not once, believed that any American citizen would be forced to accept implanted technology if they didn’t want it.”

“It’s hard to imagine a government that fought for freedom of choice instead of profit. We haven’t had that sort of governance for decades.” And they might never have it again, not if the companies had their way. Not if the Freedom rebellion was squashed.

“It had its good and bad points, just like everything else.”

“So, the war started, and it became clear that the side against implanted tech was winning.” She knew this from her history books.

“Yeah. Their forces were pushing into the States. They’d taken over a chunk of Texas and were moving north. We were deployed to take the region back.”

“And then the bomb fell.”

“That sounds like it happened on its own, kind of by accident. The reality is that the big tech companies put pressure on America to drop an untested bomb, sacrificing their own military in the process. It did end the war, though.”

“But you were the cost.”

“Yeah, we were the cost.”

“And”—she took a deep breath—“while you were asleep for a hundred years—”

“Just like Sleeping Beauty.”

“—the big companies redrew the map into Territories and Coalition Countries.”

“They also ousted the democratic government and installed themselves in its place.” He glanced over at her. “Makes perfect sense. What else is gonna happen when companies have more power than government? There was no reason for them not to take over.”

“It wasn’t a coup,” Friday pointed out. “It happened over time. People just started listening to the companies more and more, and their power and influence overtook that of the governments.”

“I know, I read up on all those puppet governments you guys had until the companies got fed up hiding behind a fake democracy and got rid of them.” He squeezed her hand. “And here we are. The companies rule the Territories, and the Coalition are doing their own thing. Basically, we have a dictator in charge of the former United States, and their only concern is profit.”

“That’s why Freedom is fighting.”

“I don’t think they’re pure as the driven snow, either, bébé.”

“Probably, but who else is there? They’re the only ones fighting for change.”

“I understand, but that doesn’t mean I like how they fight. Terrorism is terrorism, no matter how you package it. People get hurt while the terrorists strong-arm everyone into doing what they want.”

“That isn’t how Freedom operates.”

“We’ll see.” He pointed to the peaks in the distance. “La Paz sits in the middle of those—if this navigation system is correct. We’re about halfway there.”

“You’ve never been there, either?”

“I’ve been into the part of the city that sits on the high plains, but I haven’t been down into the old areas in the valleys.”

“The clinic is in the old city.”

“Then this will be a new experience for both of us.”

“And here I was thinking you’d experienced everything.”

“I may be old, bébé, but I still got some stuff on my bucket list.”

“And yet again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She yawned loudly and saw his eyes soften.

“Tired again?”

“Yes.” She glanced away. She wanted to sleep every couple of hours now.

“Catch yourself a nap, then. I’ll wake you when we get to La Paz.” He patted his thigh. “Use me for a pillow. I’ll take care of you while you sleep.”

She curled her feet up onto the bench seat and rested her head on Striker’s warm and solid thigh. She fell asleep to the sensation of his fingers stroking through her hair, secure in the knowledge he meant what he said. He would take care of her for as long as she had left.