She’d come to me last night. I hadn’t pushed. I hadn’t even been expecting her. All afternoon she’d made herself scarce; still in the bunker, but out of sight, or I’d catch a glimpse of her with Xiu Ying and various other Zebra groupies, then when I’d look back she was gone again. Somewhere else. But as much as I’d wanted to find out where, I’d been too busy working with Si and Alan finalising the plans for Remoh Ehrah.

  And then, in the dead of night, hours after I’d gone to sleep, she’d softly padded across my room, and slipped silently under the blankets of my bed. Naked.

  Well, I wasn’t about to ask how her day had gone. Not with the way she’d smelled and the way she’d felt. Vanilla and honey; the soap she’d used earlier that had taunted me all morning in the tech room. And a hot, eager hand working its way under my boxers.

  Kissing Lena is like falling through a portal to another realm. You forget where you are and when you do open your eyes it takes seconds, maybe even minutes, to get your bearings. To think straight. One swipe of her tongue over my lower lip and I’d been gone. No chance of asking any questions after that.

  My hands, usually so well versed in seduction, became bumbling, fumbling, thick fingered obstacles to the prize. But it didn’t matter, because Lena knew what she was doing.

  And for the very first time in my life I’d been jealous. So fucking jealous of the men who had come before me and taught her what she now knew. I’d never considered a woman’s previous relationships at all. It just never factored in my thoughts. I’m here now. They’re not. But with Lena, every thing mattered. Where she’d been. Who she’d been with. What they’d done.

  It was driving me crazy.

  But last night, I’d welcomed her skilled touch; compensation for my teenager-like performance. I’d welcomed her guidance, her control. I gave up everything and let her simply take what she needed. And she must have needed a lot. Because she rode me for more than half an hour, wrung me out beyond any place I’d ever been before. Took and then took some more.

  It was wild. It was magnificent. It was the most alive I’d felt in years.

  And when it was over, and I half feared she’d just get up as silently as she’d come in and walk back out the door, nothing more than a dream, a fantasy. She’d burrowed beneath the covers instead, wrapped herself around my body and fallen asleep. Offering a “Shhh,” when I’d tried to open my mouth and say something.

  I didn’t sleep. Not with a naked sex goddess clinging to my body. I didn’t sleep at all.

  And now it was morning and Lena was still out cold, still wrapped around my body, and I was completely tied in knots over this girl. Utterly lost to her touch, her scent, even her confusing mind. Because I had no idea what was going on in that beautiful head of hers.

  I had no idea what was going on inside her heart.

  She stirred, stretched like a cat waking from an afternoon nap. She looked so fucking gorgeous, even in the dim safety lighting left on from yesterday. No shadows under her eyes, no puffiness or redness about her face. Smooth, unblemished skin. The flush of a well rested, well tended, woman.

  “Morning,” I managed, my voice sounding scratchy despite not having woken from sleep. Memories of panting and groaning last night flooded my head at the thought of why I sounded so rough.

  Of course, my body responded.

  “Morning,” she whispered. It sounded unsure.

  She sat up slightly and looked around the room, getting her bearings. Did she feel like she’d travelled through a portal as well? Her stunning blue eyes came back to my face.

  “I hadn’t meant to stay the night,” she admitted.

  “I’m glad you did.”

  A small smile. “I guess I should get going.”

  “What’s the hurry?”

  Her delicate eyebrows rose. “We have a high security facility to infiltrate this evening.”

  “Let’s delay it a day,” I suggested, running a hand, almost absently, up over her hip under the covers.

  She sank into my touch, and just like that I was gone again. The way she responded to me, it never ceased to amaze me. It was so natural, I don’t even think she was aware of what she was doing. It was the most precious gift I’d ever received.

  And suddenly I wanted her to know. Me, Trent Masters, who never sticks around after the event, let alone offers sonnets to immortalise the moment, wanted to tell a woman how she made me feel. How beautiful she is. How my breath catches when she walks in a room. How my body craves her touch. And how her eagerness, her response to me touching her, drives me crazy insane with lust.

  “We really should…” she started just as I said, “Lena.”

  We stared at each other, connected but still separate, and then she slowly pulled away and sat up.

  I watched her get dressed and I didn’t say a thing.

  I watched her hesitate at the door and I didn’t say a thing.

  And I watched her walk through it without a backwards glance and I still did not say a thing.

  Somehow, I knew words wouldn’t have been enough. And Lena. Ah, fuck Lena felt a million miles away. And I realised, that even when she’d been right beside me, skin on skin under the covers on my bed, she’d still been a million miles away.

  I just hadn’t noticed.

  Chapter 20

  We’re Here

  Lena

  Rain splattered the windshield of the van in thick droplets. The tension that had been in the vehicle for the past half hour ratcheted up a few notches. But not for me. I worked best in a thunderstorm, always had. And tonight would be no different.

  “Great,” Si said over the shortwave radio. “Visibility will be down for you, but not the guards. They’re using thermal imaging.”

  “Can you guide us?” Trent asked, his jaw set, his brow furrowed. Pretty much how he’d been all day.

  I shouldn’t have gone to him last night. Seeking reassurance like some clingy lover. I sure as hell shouldn’t have stayed curled up with him under the covers as though we had no cares in the world. I closed my eyes, blocked out the team’s last minute, almost panicked strategizing, and practised some meditation exercises instead.

  When I was done the van was silent again and the tension felt like a hundred sharp edged knives.

  My eyes darted across the small space to Tan, who was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, gaze focused on the floor of the car. Wang Jie sat next to him; Jared had been left behind at the bunker to offer guard, despite his arguments to the contrary. Only one more of Tan’s men, Navin, had accompanied him. On Trent’s side there was Alan and me. Not counting Si back at the tech room coordinating. So, in essence, six of us attempting to break into the highest secured location on the island.

  Jared had compiled a list of possible alternate premises where Shiloh’s mainframe could be. All of them weren’t as well guarded as the building at Remoh Ehrah. As far as we were concerned, this was it.

  Shiloh was going down tonight.

  I watched Wang Jie’s knee bounce in place in rapid movements. His hands clasped together on his lap, knuckles almost white. Navin seemed just as agitated. Only Tan, on the opposite side of the van, looked at ease. And I knew him; it was all an act.

  His head came up and blue eyes locked with mine. He was the first to look elsewhere. My lips thinned. My jaw tensed. And then I forced myself to inhale slowly and blow the anxiety away.

  I looked towards Trent, who was watching a vid-screen, the brightness illuminating his face, leaving little in shadow. But it didn’t matter, the shadows were in his eyes.

  I had a very bad feeling about all of this.

  “Five minutes,” Alan said, glancing at his watch in a move that was perhaps the most nonchalant of us all. Not much ruffled his feathers. Unless it was something that threatened Trent.

  His eyes came up to the rear vision mirror right then, and caught mine. He didn’t look away. He hadn’t all day. His sharp gaze taking in every non-comment, every forced interaction, every side-step between Trent and myself since this morning.

  I let a long breath out, my heart rate faster than I would have liked, and forced all negative thoughts from my mind. Had I been performing this operation on my own, as I have often had to do in the past, I would have aborted right here, before another second of tension stole all cognitive thought.

  The words were on the tip of my tongue. I even opened my mouth. We’d have to wait another week for a non-curfew night, of course, but something was telling me that would be better than heading into Remoh Ehrah like this. On edge. Distracted. Compromised.

  “Go. Go. Go,” Simon said over the radio, and the van rolled forward in a smooth glide, as I slowly shut my mouth.

  I glanced through the windscreen and there it was. The food truck. Driving around the corner of the street ahead.

  I wondered what they were like; the cafeteria crew sitting blithely on-board that truck. I wondered how much they were paid for their silence.

  We’d find no empathy inside the factory, from human or otherwise, I was sure.

  A loud bang suddenly sounded out, interrupting my thoughts. Like a gunshot going off at close quarters, it made the whole van violently rock to one side and then begin to swerve erratically. My heart thumped against my chest, my body lifted off the seat as we went flying, my breath was all but lost as the vehicle hung suspended in mid-air for a split second. Then, with a rush of metal scraping and sparks flying and a body quaking loss of momentum, the van’s wheels hit the tar-seal again and crashed into the food truck.

  For a second my ears rung, my vision felt hazy, and then Trent’s face was materialising before me, mouth moving, the words reaching me as if from down a long tunnel. “Are you OK?”

  We’d expected the loss of control when Si had rigged the tyre to blow. We’d expected the consequent collision with the food truck in just the right spot to not do too much damage to them, but a maximum amount to us. We also expected every street-cam in the area to be swivelling towards us and zooming in on the “accident” immediately. So why Trent had deviated from the plan to check on me, I did not know.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I’m fine,” I repeated when I wasn’t sure if my words had sounded right.

  Trent frowned and then looked out the window, so I slowly followed his gaze. The cafeteria people had all piled out of their truck and were checking on our “injured.” By the time I registered that several minutes must have passed, Trent was talking again and I had to focus.

  “Jesus,” he swore, and then ran a hand through his hair in utter frustration. “Why weren’t you holding on?” He sounded distraught.

  My brow furrowed. I had been holding on. Hadn’t I?

  Too distracted.

  “Lena, baby,” he said in a rush of heated air against my cheek. “You’re going to have to sit this one out.”

  I started shaking my head and then immediately regretted the motion. My hand came up to my temple; it was shaking.

  “Fuck!” Trent exclaimed and immediately punched the bench seat opposite, making me jump. “OK,” he added, as if to himself. Or to calm me. “OK. You’ll stay and guard the factory’s employees, and Navin will come with us instead.”

  I blinked, worked hard to clear the fuzziness from my head, and said, “Can he steal the ID cards?”

  Trent’s eyes met mine; such a wealth of heartfelt emotion there. “Can you?” he asked softly. His hand came up to my forehead, I didn’t even feel him touch me, but when he pulled it down again, his fingertips were covered in blood.

  Oh.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered and he sucked in a breath of air.

  “Lena, don’t ever apologise for getting hurt.” He leaned forward and brushed warm lips against mine, so tenderly, so unexpectedly. I felt my eyes well up with unwanted tears.

  And then the back door of the van suddenly opened, making my heart leap into my throat and the threatening tears to dry. A drone factory employee stood there. In the same uniform that we were wearing, but ours was covered with jackets; hiding in plain sight. Trent and I blinked at him for a second, then the guy said, “We’ve called for an ambulance, but there’s some major accident out on the Cross Island Motorway.” Thank you, Simon. “It could take a while.”

  I watched Trent switch into his newly adapted role beautifully. “My girlfriend needs to see a doctor.” And something fluttered inside my stomach; it had nothing to do with a head injury.

  “Oh,” the guy said. “Um,” he added.

  “Could you drive us there?” Trent asked, with just the right amount of panic and woefulness. “Please?” he added. Nice touch.

  My eyes found their way to his face, where I seemed unable to look away. Trent was too busy to notice, keeping up the act and keeping an eye on our quarry. But my absentminded behaviour must have worked, because the guy said, “She doesn’t look so good.”

  “Her head,” Trent said, as though the words made him miserable.

  “OK. Bring her out and we’ll drop you all off on the way to work.”

  Fresh air helped. I felt a little more normal by the time Trent - one arm wrapped around my waist, one hand cupping my elbow for support - helped me to the food delivery truck. The others had already climbed aboard, their concerned eyes taking in the blood on my forehead as Trent helped me step up and in.

  Then he was settling me on a seat beside him, making sure he could hold onto me. Pulling my face into the crook of his neck as though it was natural. I wanted to see what everyone else was doing, whether they were ready for part two of our act. But the closeness of Trent, his warmth,and soap and musky male scent, cocooned me in a bubble of welcome.

  The truck took off with a lurch; I felt like I was losing segments of time somewhere. I heard a few quiet exhales from across the way, they matched the one Trent made at my side. Silence reigned for several seconds, and then the sound of approaching sirens - sPol not Civil Defence Ambulances - invaded my ears. I tensed and Trent immediately started to stroke a hand down my arm to calm me, and then the truck was around the corner at the end of the street and several blocks away before I realised it.

  I came back to awareness with Act Two being performed; quietly and swiftly at an intersection some distance away from the crash site. Chloroform covered cloths across mouths and the drone factory night shift kitchen crew were all out. Followed up by a change of driver to one of ours, and the hand-cuffing and gagging of the still unconscious cafeteria crew.

  “Check their ID’s match the contacts Si has provided,” Trent said some time later, still holding me to him, even though I’d begun to feel more like myself. Sort of.

  My head still ached; a dullness that led me to believe I wouldn’t be on top form. And I kept skipping portions of time, making it difficult to keep up with what was happening. But vision had otherwise returned to normal and the trembling in my fingertips had also subsided.

  It was good enough for me. I sat up, feeling Trent tense as if to insist on continuing to hold me. My eyes caught his, and I saw something there that had nothing to do with the current situation and everything, I feared, to do with me leaving his bedroom so abruptly this morning.

  Impulsively, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, watching his eyes widen. I had no idea why I did it. Other than the fact that I didn’t like the fear I’d seen on his face.

  Or because I really was compromised. I resisted checking the wound on my head. But I did say, “Tan, where’s the first aid kit.” A little too desperately.

  Turning to get my bearings for the first time in the back of the truck, I found one of the drone factory’s cafeteria crew had already awoken, and his eyes connected with mine straight away. Recognition flared in their murky depths. He thrashed on the floor of the vehicle, only stopping when Alan placed his big thick soled boot on the top of his chest. I was sure he wasn’t pressing, but then again, it was Alan.

  Tan slid a small kit across the floor to me and I focused on finding something to dress my wound.

  “Here, let me,” Trent said softly at my side, taking a gauze wipe and the saline solution from my hands. I turned to face him, tipping my head up to the skylight for him to see. “Do you know what day it is?” he asked, while starting to clean the wound up.

  “Saturday,” I said with a quirk of my lips.

  “Where are we heading?” he tried, his eyes darting down to mine and then back up to what he was doing; carefully placing a bandage on the injury site.

  “Drone City,” I quipped, watching his lips tip up in a brief smile.

  “How many fingers am I holding up?” he added, waving a solitary finger right before my nose.

  My eyes met his, my lips parted, and his finger stilled… well within biting - or licking - distance.

  “One,” I whispered. Trent’s eyes darkened deliciously.

  “If you two are done flirting,” Alan said from across the truck, “we’re almost there. What’s the plan?”

  Trent looked at me, a silent question asked in just one steady gaze. I nodded my head, reached for the identity card of the lone female worker - an identity that would not have been easy for Navin to assume - and clipped it on the belt of the uniform I already wore that matched hers.

  At least in looks, ours came with slight adjustments.

  Trent cleared his throat. “We go in as planned. Stay sharp. Keep focused. Watch each other’s backs.” What was not said, was watch over Lena. But the directive was inferred all the same.

  The truck pulled over then beside a windowless van on a quiet back street in Remoh Ehrah. Navin reversed it in until, with both doors open, the vehicles were touching. In silence, other than the odd grunt and growl from behind gags, the cafeteria staff were transferred to the waiting van, leaving the truck ready for inspection at the drone factory.

  Navin checked the binds on the food crew and offered a nod of his head towards Trent. Then the doors were closed and the truck pulled away, leaving him in charge of his prisoners.

  “Contacts,” Trent advised, and we all took the contact lenses Simon had organised that matched our identity cards. A rush job that had each of us feeling not just a little nervous.