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I had to get out of here before Bane got to his hovercraft. I sprinted to my RTC and jumped in. Before the hatch closed, I hit the power control and the return-to-base key, programmed to my hotel.
Nothing happened.
I pushed power again.
Not even a hum.
No. No. Don’t tell me... I shifted from autopilot to manual and hit power again. Dead. I switched to auxiliary backup and tried again.
Nada.
“Dammit!” So much for a fast getaway. If I cared to look on the bright side—but I didn’t—if Bane hadn’t been here, I would have been stranded.
My comm device blinked with several messages. My stomach knotted. Could the president really have caught wind of the debacle this soon? Bane seemed to have an uncanny prescience about her. I prayed he was wrong, but I feared he was right. No doubt as the execs flew back to Città, they were on their devices. I would have been if I’d been in their shoes.
Before I responded to the president, I had to figure out how to explain the situation and mitigate the damage. If I read her message now, she’d be notified I’d gotten it. When I failed to reply immediately, consequences would result. Better for her to assume I hadn’t seen the communication.
Who was I kidding? I was screwed no matter what I did.
Would I ever be able to climb out of the mire, or would I be trapped forever? Omnipresent worry spiked into fear. The RTC seemed to shrink around me, and my throat tightened. I tore off the mask and goggles but couldn’t seem to suck in enough air.
I can’t breathe!
On the verge of a panic attack, I shoved the hatch open, leaped out, and broke into a run, leaving the dump and its stench, heading for the dunes and imaginary freedom. Beyond the perimeter, white sprinkles dusted the rocky ground then thickened and deepened the farther I got from the dump. Lungs burning, legs aching, I pushed myself through low rolling dunes until I couldn’t go any farther. Gasping for breath, I sank to my knees.
“It’s too much! I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do this anymore. I want out!”
My shoulders shook as I cried for the good life I’d left behind and the dangerous travesty that engulfed me now. This disaster served as a metaphor for my life—toxic with no good remedy. All SEW Solutions could do was relocate the waste. That’s all I could do—keep moving, try to stay one step ahead. Emotionally, I was on the run all the time, and it had gotten exhausting, and I was falling behind.
I wailed and cried like a baby.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a pouf. Next to it, another little spurt appeared. And another, until a half dozen tiny sand geysers swayed in a hypnotic fashion.
As I became distracted by the activity, my tears slowed. Anguish receded, and serenity settled over me. In my mind’s eye, I imagined soothing, calm, rolling white hills. About a foot high now, the wisps reminded me of a monochromatic three-dimensional kaleidoscope, shifting into different shapes: a cone, an hourglass, a crescent moon.
The sand couldn’t be reacting to me, could it? Gayle had said it responded to music, but there had been nothing harmonious about my ugly cry.
I reached out, and one of the wisps enveloped my hand, flowing over my skin in a caressing manner.
What if Breeze and Gayle were dead right?
If the sand was alive, sentient, and intelligent, we humans were squatters, and, before long, we’d become the annihilators we’d been throughout history. Already some of the aliens had sickened and died because of the toxicity of the waste.
Public outrage and pressure would force SEW Solutions to remove the waste from the planet, but the MORE Corp had no intention of stopping with a single resort. Colonization wouldn’t halt. Humans were entrenched. Five cities had been established. New ones would be incorporated. A collision between species loomed.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“What are you doing out here?”
The wisps collapsed, and I jumped at the sound of Bane’s voice.
“Maybe I’m communing with the sand,” I said in a joking tone while surreptitiously wiping my damp face. Never let ’em see you sweat. Or cry. God forbid an enforcer should see the latter.
Getting up from the ground wasn’t as easy in middle age as it had been in childhood. I tried to rise with as much grace as I could muster, but I almost toppled over, and he immediately gripped my elbow.
“Thanks,” I muttered, still not looking at him.
“Did you answer the president?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I faced him. If I continued to avoid eye contact, he’d suspect me of hiding something more damning than tears. “I don’t know that I received any messages from her.”
“You didn’t check?”
“No.” I could say it was none of his business, except, if it involved Jodane, it was his business. He’d been tasked with safeguarding her interests in whatever capacity that entailed. I shrugged. “I decided to take a stroll in the dunes instead—”
In my mind’s eye, I saw the sand roll toward my RTC and swirl around it. Then I got an image of Bane emerging from the rows of trash. An epiphany hit me.
“You disabled my RTC!” But when? I’d been standing next to the vehicle during Breeze’s announcement, and, afterwards, he and I had been together. He couldn’t have done it. The image of the sand and my RTC and him striding out from the stacks flashed through my mind again.
“Tried to fly away, did you?”
Sonofabitch!
He had outfoxed me. Feet planted wide apart, arms crossed, he stood more masculine and vital than any man had a right to be. Some demented, damaged part of my psyche ached for him. Urged me to accept the false trust he’d offered. To lean on him. “You asshole! What the hell did you do to my vehicle?”
“Nothing I can’t fix,” he said calmly. “In fact, I already did.”
“Why did you disable my RTC?”
“You wouldn’t wait for me otherwise.”
“Then why ask me to stay at all? Was it a test? I guess I failed, didn’t I?”
“You haven’t passed one yet,” he said.
It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. “You’ve been testing me?”
“You’re a wild card. Predictable most of the time, but then you veer off and do unexpected things. You can be boring and irrational.”
And the man who rarely smiled smirked. The smirk, more than the insult, snapped the tether of my self-control.
My hand lashed out on a trajectory toward his smug face.
It never had a chance to connect. With a lightning-fast reflex, he grabbed my wrist.
His eyes frosted over. My breath caught in my throat, a small noise squeaked out.
He yanked me toward him, and I fell against his hard chest, my free hand grabbing hold of his biceps for support. “Bane—I...didn’t mean—”
His head came down, and his mouth captured mine. I went rigid, too shocked to protest.
I’d expected brutality, but he stormed my defenses with a startling gentleness. He commanded with persuasion, his mouth brushing over mine, his tongue coaxing my lips to part. And then he was inside, his seductive exploration sweeping me into a vortex of confusion and desire, igniting an electrifying wave of hot need.
Never had I been so undone by a kiss.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips harder to his, seeking something I couldn’t define but sensed that he possessed. But he kept it light, his tongue teasing and tantalizing, giving me a taste of what I craved but not enough to satisfy. The man was demonic.
I moaned in frustration and desire. He released the grip on my wrist to clasp my hand. His other arm tightened around my shoulders while he threaded his fingers through my hair, as he continued to kiss me with devastating slowness. His tongue slid against mine, stoking my passion. I was unraveling, but he remained in control.
I hooked an ankle around his leg, pressing closer to relieve the ache, sate the craving.
The hard-on digging into my belly brought me to my senses. What the hell am I doing? This man was Jodane’s enforcer. A minute ago, I’d tried to slap his face, and now I humped his leg like a sex-starved nympho?
I tore myself out of his arms. “Don’t touch me! I must be insane!” I pressed my fingers to my lips. I could still taste him, feel him. God, help me, I desired him.
I felt hot all over. My lips throbbed. I swayed, my body instinctively leaning toward him.
And he remained...unmoved, his eyes cold, his face stony. “Tempest.” The total lack of emotion in his expression and voice hit me with an icy splash of reality.
Kissing me had been another exercise performed with cold precision. He’d been testing me again. And I’d failed. He’d been able to manipulate my feelings and decimate my common sense.
I bolted through the dunes, blood thundering in my ears. With his much longer legs, his superior speed and stamina, overtaking me would be no contest. When he didn’t tackle me, I realized he hadn’t come after me. Unpredictable as always, he’d let me go. But still I ran, fleeing the perils of my folly.
Winded and gasping, I reached my RTC. Bane’s vehicle sat beside mine. This time, when I pushed the button, the hovercraft fired up right away. Asshole. Asshole. Asshole. I hated the power he had exerted over my life, my emotions, and now my body.
My RTC lifted up and flew over the dunes toward Città.
I swore I wouldn’t watch for him. Self-loathing burning through my veins, I caved, my gaze following the footprints straight to Bane. He stood right where I’d left him.
He didn’t look up as I zoomed overhead.
* * * *
Bane
Temptation thy name is Tempest.
Her RTC flew away, but I remained in the dunes, rocked by the encounter. I never should have touched her. She was stardust; I was the addict. The more contact I had with her, the more I craved. She had raised me up, but she would tear me down. She had the power to ruin me.
I’d kissed her. Christ.
She’d kissed me back. Jesus Christ, why?
I should have let her slap my face. I deserved it for what I was thinking, for what I wanted to do, for what I would have to do. There was no foreseeable out for Tempest.
I knew the stakes. Why play with fire? I would not be able to save her. I had nothing to gain from toying with her and so much to lose. Never in my life had I needed the shield that a dearth of emotion could provide as much as I did now, yet I kept hacking away at that shield.
There had been no reason to follow her into the dunes. She couldn’t leave. I’d hacked into the RTC’s electronics and disabled it. But instead of waiting for her, I’d gone after her.
Judging from the stride length, she’d been running. Had she been running from me?
She could run, but she couldn’t hide. Cliché, but true.
Also true: she was a wild card. Although she spoke and acted appropriately, something about her didn’t ring true. I’d sensed it, and so did Jodane, which is what had put her on the president’s radar screen. But, until today, there hadn’t been proof of her lack of commitment.
Assisting the president in amassing her power was the only acceptable goal. Yes, Jodane had staked her financial future on Sajave, but her aim wasn’t to acquire wealth but to gain control. Money offered the means to achieve the end—power.
Tempest’s genuine anger at the dump site had revealed she wasn’t on board with the president’s aims. She shouldn’t care what happened to Sajave. Serving the president should be her sole concern. Personal feelings would interfere with the discharge of responsibility.
Not true about Tempest: You’re boring and irrational. I’d goaded her into dropping her defensive wall. Like me, she appeared controlled and unmoved by emotion. I craved the real Tempest, the genuine woman. When she lowered her guard, I’d gotten more than I’d bargained for.
I couldn’t afford to care about her because I knew how her story would end.
The transformation to cyborg had wiped my emotions, and, once, I’d rued the loss. With emotions awakening, I wished I could go back to sleep. Dammit, it hurt to feel.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and went to retrieve my RTC.
