Mumbai Manhunt Page 5

  He leaned back against the wall slow enough to allow her to decide if she would let the contact break or if she would join him on the narrow bed. It creaked beneath her as she moved to sit next to him, and he curled his good arm around her protectively. Contentment felt like a heavy cloak that she didn’t want to risk wearing, despite the illusion of protection he provided. Relaxing against his side, stroking her fingers along the delicate hairs on the back of his arm, it would even be easy to believe. "Where would you have gone? After you got out?"

  His eyes closed as though he was seeing it in his head, the smile on his mouth quiet and relaxed. "The Maldives. There's barely enough land left above water for housing. And no room for corporate influence. Probably the only place on earth that the corporations haven't got any kind of significant toehold."

  Four violent coups in the last half-century helped with that. It's not like there were corporations lining up to buy the land that remained. Netta nodded. "White sand and blue water. It's supposed to be lovely."

  "I've never been," he admitted. "I had a picture on my portable for years, just to remind me where I wanted to be. The fact that they banned AR didn't hurt either. I finally wouldn't feel like I was missing out on the world."

  "It's not missing out. Trust me on that. And Yashilla has...interesting taste in AR decoration." The scenes had been hideous and violent. Designed to unsettle. For a moment, it had worked, if only as an offshoot of surprise. Once she was inured to the sights, the purpose had been obvious. Drive away anyone not committed to talking to her. Netta could understand that idea too easily.

  "Yeah, Yash always made me glad I couldn't see what she projected."

  "It was fine. More than anything, it gave her the solitude she wanted. Like you going to the Maldives. I just think it sounds so terribly lonely."

  "A quiet place to shut it all down."

  Netta pursed her lips. There was no missing what he meant, and the idea terrified her. Dying alone, even in a relative paradise like the Maldives, hit too close to home. Too close to Jada. Her palms felt clammy, and she wiped them on her jeans.

  Joshi shifted on the bed, the backs of his fingers caressing her cheek. "It doesn't have to be lonely. I just want to be away from the noise and distractions. Have some peace and quiet before—"

  Before IRS killed him. Netta didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to think at all. The conversation had turned personal, gotten her thinking about the wrong things. She opened her eyes to find him looking at her.

  "Three years ago—" he started.

  She stilled his words with a finger on his lips. She didn't want to hear what she suspected, that he'd been paid to pay attention to her. To make her feel at home in her lab, so she would focus on work when he left. Her body remembered his. Remembered him. "The past was the past. Now is what matters."

  She shifted with him, mouth finding his by instinct so she could lose herself in the kiss.

  He stopped a moment to smile against her lips. "I can handle that."

  This is just physical release, nothing more. Netta repeated the idea in her mind. And there's nothing wrong with that. Her fingers tangled in Joshi's hair, half guiding, half shoving his mouth down to her arched throat. His teeth tugged at the sensitive skin, and she whimpered her approval while sparks shot along her nerves and robbed her of rationality.

  She could allow herself this. Have him be real for her. For now. She proved it by sliding her palms over the glorious sculpted muscles of his shoulders. That power, that strength focused on her, was intoxicating.

  He pushed against her hands, returning to her mouth for another kiss, and she was happy to let him. Compared to the scratch of his stubble, his lips had a softness that matched the tender, almost reverent way his mouth claimed hers. As though she were something precious.

  Her palms skated over his ribs, careful to avoid putting pressure on the bruise that covered the one side. He'd slept shirtless, a concession to the weather, and she had never been more thankful for the humid air than she was at that moment.

  His hands slid under her shirt, thumbs stroking the underside of her breasts, his skin heated through the thin Lycra of her bra. She wanted his strength on display, wanted it for herself, and she broke the kiss to find his ear. "Tear it," she whispered. "Open my shirt."

  He hesitated, then tugged open the fabric, buttons popping free and bouncing off walls to ricochet through the tiny space.

  "Beautiful," he said quietly. She squirmed beneath him, wanting his hands back on her skin, greedy for everything he could give her.

  He obliged, one thumb finally skating up to circle the aching peak of her breast. She whimpered in relief as pleasure shot sparks along her nerves, making her all too aware of the empty ache that pooled between her thighs.

  She arched her back, rubbing against his leg while his mouth trailed down her chest to replace his thumb. He tugged her bra to one side, and the scrape of teeth over one nipple was too much. She whimpered and dug her fingers into his scalp, crushing him against her breast. Impatient, she pushed him away long enough to yank the sports bra over her head, briefly sorry that she didn't have undergarments more designed to titillate.

  His hand eased down, sculpting the curve of her hip, and even through her jeans the heat of his skin bordered on unbearable. Her clinical side tried to ask why he'd be feverish, and she drowned it out with the more important question of the moment; why had he slid his hand to the outside of her thigh rather than where she wanted it? As his hand slid back, his thumb traced to her inner thigh instead, and the tease left her nerves raw.

  She batted his hands aside and levered off her shoes with her toes. With her thumbs hooked in the waistband, she shoved both her jeans and underwear down in a single tangle.

  As she lay back on the bed, he chuckled. "Impatient?"

  She tugged his hand back between her legs, resisting the urge to growl as his fingers brushed against her. "I've waited three years to have you back. I'd say I'm more than patient."

  He curled one blunt fingertip into her, the base of his thumb pressed against her clit as he moved to lie alongside her. She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him above her, noticing his wince as his weight shifted.

  "How's your shoulder?"

  He smiled. "I hadn't noticed."

  "Liar." She took advantage of the moment to kiss him again. "But I'm willing to help you put it through its paces. For purely therapeutic reasons, of course."

  He caught her lower lip between his teeth, released it playfully. "Your sacrifice is noted, Doctor."

  She laughed and twisted, and he allowed himself to roll with her until she pinned him beneath her. "If I were truly considerate, we'd find a way to keep you off that injured shoulder."

  Straddling him wasn't enough to ease the ache of need, but it was closer. She rocked back, letting the friction of his denim-clad hips scrape along her skin. She bent to circle his nipple with her tongue, drawing a groan from him. She could shred his control as easily as he shredded hers, an amazing thought as she kissed back to his mouth once more. His hands left her hips to open his jeans, and the ache in her sparked again, sharp to the point of pain.

  He broke the kiss. "Do we have…?" He let the question trail off.

  "I've got an implant. Courtesy of BlueGene." They needed her to work on her research, not be distracted by a family. Not that she had time or the aptitude for motherhood in the first place. She eased her hips back, feeling the length of him slide along her, slick with her arousal, teasing herself until she could barely hold back.

  His fingers dug into her thighs. "Best news I've had all week." He shifted, gliding into her with ease, a testament to how ready she was and still almost too much. It stole her breath to have him so completely. She sat back, watching his eyes follow her fingers to her breasts, the pressure and angle of him perfect within her.

  He matched her slow movements as she rode him, each full stroke tempting her to go rougher. Faster. If this was their only moment, she wan
ted to take her time. Wanted something she could remember. His thumb glided back up her thigh, finding the place where their bodies joined and the taut nub nestled there. Her body tensed, wanting, trying not to reach for it, and when his thumb brushed her clit on the next thrust, she flew apart.

  She collapsed forward, teeth digging into his shoulder despite his grunt of pain. Each wave that crashed through her robbed her ability to form thoughts, only aware of the feel of him. The taste and smell of his skin. The way he stiffened and followed her into orgasm. The way he whispered her name as he came, like a prayer.

  Five

  For the first time he could remember, Joshi hated his hands. Needing her twisted like hooks in his chest, but he couldn't trust his hands not to betray him the moment they touched Netta's skin. His sense of touch was fading as the IRS took hold. The idea that the feel of her skin against his palm would diminish and fail roiled his blood. He sat up and planted his feet on the floor, knowing it would be impossible to move in the tiny bed without waking her.

  "I don't get why we're going," she said, lips behind his ear. Her fingers splayed up his back to stroke across his shoulders. He noted the tingle of sensation as she brushed his damaged ribs, more for the absence of real pain than anything else. The pain-blockers were working, even if he tried not to think about the price. "Yashilla said she had decoys set up for us."

  Joshi scoffed. "I don't know who you met, but the Yashilla I know doesn't do anything for free. If she set decoys, she had a reason."

  "Old times' sake? Did you consider that?" Her mouth replaced her fingertips, kissing along the muscle of his shoulder.

  Joshi closed his eyes against the sensation and tried to concentrate on checking the two pistols he'd reclaimed. Just being around her left him distracted, so he focused on keeping his movements quick and economical. Slide. Twist. Clear. He looked at the line of ammunition he'd placed on the table next to the bed, framed by the square of dust that marked where one of Yashilla's machines had been. They had eighteen bullets, six of those marked as nonlethal. Bao had clearly been tweaked to the limits of his humanity; depending on his implants, the ammunition might not be enough to stop him.

  It certainly wasn't enough to fight the state, now that they'd been branded terrorists.

  She rested her chin on his shoulder, arms loosely draped around him, her breasts pressing into his back. "I should be offended that you find your guns more interesting than me."

  His laugh slipped out before he could suppress it, and the thin shell of ice he'd tried to erect in his chest shattered. "Corporate Services' psychologists would have a field day with that, I'm certain."

  "I promise to keep it a secret." She walked two fingers down his arm and sighed. "There's no way we can buy this off, right?"

  "Unless you have considerably more money than I’ve been led to believe, then no. But we can make catching us expensive enough that they're unwilling to press the issue." He didn't point out that it would have to be damned expensive. If BlueGene was willing to brand someone a bio-threat, then he and Netta would need to move the expense needle significantly before it seemed too far for them. She'd been in the corporate world. She should already know.

  Joshi loaded one pistol entirely with lethal rounds and slid it into her knitting bag, beneath the massive scarf or whatever it was. The second pistol had the nonlethal rounds as its opening volley. He checked the safety and laid it on the table again.

  "So where do we go?"

  There'd be no we. Not in any way that would keep her safe. She'd hate the idea, but he knew enough about her logical mind that she'd see reason. Maybe, once everything with Bao had been resolved…

  As though I've got enough time left for any thoughts of tomorrow.

  He took a breath. "If we stay in Mumbai, it's a ticking clock until Bao hunts us down. If we get out of the country, then we might have a chance to lay low for a while." He stood up. "We should go. I've got a stop before we leave the Blackout Zone."

  Netta dressed silently, replacing her torn shirt with a T-shirt from the change of clothes Yashilla had left for her. And wasn’t that a fascinating development, to see someone who could thaw the ice around Yash’s kindness. He felt a flutter of pleasure, knowing how easily she’d wormed under his own skin.

  Once Netta was clothed, he opened the door of the apartment and stepped out into the courtyard. The smells washed over him first, awakening memories of home and safety. Roasting spices, searing meat, and the subtle undertone of sandalwood oil. Joshi scanned the area for the source of the out-of-place smell.

  Bao Chu perched on a railing within easy sight of the door. As soon as he'd been spotted he dropped to the ground and walked toward them. His cream-colored suit was immaculate, an anomaly in the Blackout that made him seem more otherworldly than his unnatural grace.

  "What's going o—?" Netta fell silent as soon as she spotted Bao and had an answer to her question.

  "You're close enough." Joshi pulled the pistol, moving to one side so he could cut off any avenues of fire toward Netta. "It doesn't have to go down like this."

  Bao's empty hands came up, palms forward so there was no mistaking his lack of a weapon. "It doesn't have to go down at all. If I'd wanted, I could have taken you both out while you were...occupied with each other."

  Anger clenched Joshi's jaw. Not that their guard had been down for a moment, but that Bao had somehow known about them together. Might even have been watching. His hand tightened on the pistol until the grip cut into his palm. Between gritted teeth, he managed to grind out a sentence. "What do you want?"

  "The girl. Surely your old associate told you that much." Bao took a step forward, daring Joshi to shoot. "Corporate Services burned your contract, but we both know you're at the end of your usefulness anyway. How many months do you have left, really? How long before you can't even hold that pistol, let alone point it at anyone in a meaningful fashion?"

  Netta’s hand rested on his back, tender as it pressed along his spine. Her voice was strong, if soft in the open courtyard. "They've been lying to him. He's not as far along as they're saying."

  Bao stepped over to the trash midden that drifted against the wall and picked up a mongrel dog that had been rummaging in search of food. Pity dragged his features down as he ruffled the matted fur over the ragged remnants of the dog’s left ear. "Is that what she's telling you? It's different? You're special? That the experts are wrong?" He nuzzled the feral's head, before digging into one pocket and pulling out some kind of dried meat stick and offering it to the dog.

  As the dog ate in his arms, Bao looked up. Joshi could see himself reflected in the twin mirrors of the assassin's cybernetic eyes. When he spoke, the sadness in his voice surprised Joshi.

  "You're like this dog, you know? You've been kicked around, done what you had to. In the end you survived, and you'll do whatever you think will let you keep on surviving." Bao ruffled the dog's throat, and it leaned into the touch with the same gusto it showed for the meal. "Most importantly, once you've got what you think is a chance, you don't care what the person offering it to you has done. Ask your angel about her sister, what really happened to her. Ask her why BlueGene gave her an opportunity, when she was a fugitive."

  Joshi eased his grip on the pistol but refused to lower it. He knew from experience how fast Bao could move. Bao's words were gnats, buzzing against the guilt that curled inside him. Corporate Services had never told him what she'd done to become a fugitive. He hadn't cared.

  He’d taken the job because that was his specialty—forcing people to stay on the run until their will gave out. All he had to do was keep her unsettled and on her toes until she accepted BlueGene's offer. As the job stretched on, she had impressed him with her resourcefulness, made him almost regret each time he found her and put her on the run again.

  That regret had made him ask for the job to help her settle into Mumbai, and Corporate Services had accepted. They likely saw it as a cruel joke, since she'd never known who'd been responsib
le for hunting her in the first place.

  The shame of it burned in his throat with acidic sourness. Whatever she’d done, it wouldn’t be as bad as the lurking sins he’d committed against her.

  "Twenty-four hours," Bao said. "Turn her over before then and you're free to go. After that, the deal's off the table. I'll come for her and collect you along the way. We both know that you won't be much of a challenge for me." He set the dog down and started to walk out of the courtyard, the mongrel trotting along at his heels. "Once you learn the truth about her, though, I think you'll be eager to give her to me. Frankly, it'd be a mercy. For both of you."

  The assassin tipped an irreverent salute, then trotted off down one of the alleys that led deeper into the Blackout Zone. Once he'd left, Joshi realized that at no point had Netta said something to counter his accusations.

  Netta kept her eyes on Joshi's back as he picked his way through the warren of alleys and tunnels that made up the Blackout Zone. She could see how the area had developed organically as additional people contributed to the internal structure. As more bodies moved into the perceived safety, new structures were built on top of old. The space divided into smaller sections until it became a collection of highly specialized compartments.

  The parallels to cancer didn't escape her.

  And just like cancer, she understood that the city would lose more trying to fight the growth than by keeping it contained. Which explained why it hadn't been eliminated.

  Joshi paused, studying another haphazard collection of scrap wood and corrugated plastic that grew from the side of a brick wall. Whatever he wanted, he didn't find it, as he sighed and moved on a moment later.

  "It would be easier if we both knew what you were looking for," she offered.

  He grunted. Since the confrontation with Bao, he'd barely said a dozen words to her. Netta wondered what conclusions he'd jumped to. Wondered where Bao had gotten his information in the first place. BlueGene had assured her that her past had been very much hidden. And as bad as he thought it might be, what would Joshi think of the truth?