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Earth, two months later
The hairs on my nape prickled, and I whipped around to scan the street. A Secret Service agent followed behind me, but I couldn’t rely on his protection. Did the woman with the stroller really have a baby in the carriage? Were the people in suits with heads bent over comm devices truly business people on their way to the office? I eyed a jogger. Could he be one of my mother’s enforcers?
For the past week, I’d had the sensation of being watched. Having grown up in politics, I was used to being observed and photographed, but this foreboding was different.
I slipped a hand into my pocket and gripped my illegal blaster. As the president’s daughter, I could have anything I desired, except security or freedom. But, right now, I was just glad to have some personal protection.
DC had outlawed weapons and exacted stiff penalties for violations, so the only people who could get their hands on them were criminals and elected officials. There was more than a little truth in the jest that the two were the same.
The jogger sprinted by me. I expelled a shaky breath and released my death grip on the weapon.
“Something wrong?” Hal asked. My Secret Service agent was late twenties, recently married, baby on the way. That’s all I knew about him because he’d only been assigned to me last week. I cycled through a lot of agents. Just as I got comfortable with one, he or she would be reassigned.
“You notice anything strange?” Dumb question. If he had, he would have reacted in some way.
“Like what?” He wore the requisite sunglasses, but I could tell he was scanning the area.
“Nothing,” I said. “I guess I’m jumpy.” How could I warn him about my mother and her secret enforcers?
Then again, maybe nobody had been following me. Maybe I was being paranoid.
Or maybe this is what sober is. Hyperalert. Hyperattuned. Stardust smoothed and dulled the rough edges. When you were flying high, no matter how bad shit got, it didn’t matter.
The sensation of being watched had vanished now, anyway, so I continued on, heading for my hovercraft. My very nice, expensive luxury building did not offer hovercraft parking, so I rented space at a nearby garage.
Cherry blossoms bloomed, releasing their cloying scent and scattering petals the color of stardust. I’d dredged up the willpower to dispose of Mother’s little gift, but spring had arrived in DC and, while everyone else saw beauty, I saw temptation, desperation.
But that wasn’t why I was leaving town.
Having discovered her most trusted enforcer was a C-Force operative, while her spy in C-Force, Stephanie Milner had been killed, Mother had begun cleaning house. Stephanie had managed to carry out her orders and relieve Tempest of her duties, but that brought Mother little consolation. She kept score, and right now the board was tied, C-Force 1, President 1, and she intended to win, no matter what the cost. She’d initiated a search-and-destroy mission to rout out and purge the traitors.
I rounded the corner. Woman and baby carriage and the business people crossed the street and continued straight. My Secret Service agent followed at a respectable pace. I scanned the avenue, noting doormen hailing hovercabs for apartment residents, people entering and exiting buildings, traffic zooming overhead, a new set of pedestrians footing it.
Again, my neck prickled.
Maybe I am getting paranoid. Was anyone connected with Kathryn Jodane not paranoid?
Mother’s not-at-all veiled threat that liabilities should be disposed of haunted my every waking hour. You stood for the president—or you acted against her. It was all or nothing with Mother. She accepted no middle ground. The more independent and less malleable I became, the greater the threat she would perceive me as being. I’d always known she’d been using me, but, being high most of the time, I’d gone along with it because I hadn’t cared about anything but my next hit. Clean now for ten months and seventeen days, I could no longer accept the unacceptable.
But what could I do about it? No place was safe—Tempest had fled to Sajave, and look what happened to her. I’d attempted to warn her, but she’d never contacted me. Either she hadn’t received my message in time, or she was already dead when I’d sent it.
Would I be next? Besides Mother’s overall disappointment in me, she probably knew I’d tried to warn Tempest.
There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. No one who could help me. I glanced at Hal. If he came between me and an enforcer, he’d pay the price.
But I’d decided to get out of town in case my presence reminded Mother she’d left a loose thread hanging. And maybe physical distance from DC might provide me with the head space to come up with something. So, I’d scheduled a little mountain vacay. Alone.
Except for Hal. He’d be coming with me.
I longed for genuine alone time but accepted that wasn’t possible. A member of a political family since birth, I’d never known privacy. I’d lived my entire life in the public eye. As soon as my mother won the nomination for president, I’d had Secret Service on my tail everywhere I went—and often an enforcer.
I hoped Hal’s wife wouldn’t get upset he’d be spending the week with me, but any fears about his fidelity were groundless. Hal was a professional. He’d never abrogate his responsibility or violate his ethics. I could tell. Besides the fact that he was a decade and a half younger than me, I didn’t sleep around, either. Despite rumors, I’d never prostituted myself to get drugs. Hell, I never had to. I could get whatever drug I wanted. My reputation as a druggie skank was so well known, the Secret Service had code-named me Dust Bunny.
With Hal just a few paces behind me, I reached the parking garage. My armored hovercraft was parked on the second of four levels. This structure was convenient because of the rooftop launch pad—you didn’t have to roll out into ground traffic. Normally, I’d be chauffeured around, but I’d managed to get approval for Hal and I to travel in two different vehicles. I’d head for the mountains in my hovercraft. He’d follow in a Secret Service vehicle.
Inside the garage, the people elevator was to my right with stairs next to it. “What level are you on?” I asked Hal.
He didn’t answer.
“Hal? Where’s your hovercraft?” I glanced over my shoulder.
He wasn’t there.
The hairs on my nape stood on end. I spun around and ran for the exit. “Hal! Hal—”
Somebody grabbed me from behind. My scream died in my throat as I felt a sharp jab, and I slipped from consciousness.
* * * *
Thank you for reading Vortex: Cyborg Force 3. As you can tell, Sandy Jodane’s story is next! Cyborg Force 4, untitled as of this writing, will be released early in 2023. To be notified of the release, sign up to receive my free newsletter. You’ll get a free science fiction romance to read while you wait, and you’ll get news about all my releases as well as book sales. Sign up here: https://BookHip.com/GRKXKHF.
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