He had plenty of tactile data on Raine Cameron now, but the joke was on him—he couldn't control the data flow. It came at him in a torrent; her scent, her velvet softness, her smile. This was hell on earth. Worse than before he'd slept with her. Exponentially worse.
The video had done it to him. He'd been on edge already after Raine stormed out of the hotel room; then he got home, logged on and saw Lazar waiting in her house, sipping his drink in nicking real-time. All his instincts screamed at him to get the hell over there and protect her. Then cyborg man had risen up and taken control. That kind of behavior would get him killed prematurely, leaving Jesse unavenged Besides, what did she have to fear from her own pimp? Fantasy time was over. Time to wake up and face reality.
So he'd clenched his teeth, planted his ass and waited for her to get home. One thing was for sure. If he had to watch Lazar fuck her, then it was a damn good thing he had nothing in his stomach.
The conversation that took place, from 9:35 to 9:47, had astonished him. Raine Cameron was exactly what she appeared to be: a bewildered, overworked new secretary in a big import export firm.
So why the provocative setup? Why was she ensconced in the ex-mistress's love nest? Why had she fallen into bed with him, as if she knew that it was expected of her? It didn't add up. Nothing added up.
He'd monitored Lazar's Mercedes to the marina, satisfied himself that the boat was bound for Stone Island, and replayed that twelve minutes of footage until it looped endlessly in his mind. He paced around, kicking the cheap furniture, punching the walls.
He had to do something, or he would go nuts. Something sneaky and challenging, preferably dangerous. A data retrieval sweep was pretty tame, but what the hell, it was better than stealing hubcaps.
This was asinine. He had more important things to worry about. So he'd nailed a beautiful woman, hurt her feelings, and then pissed her off. Whatever. That sequence of events was normal for him.
But this was Raine, his red-hot fairy-tale princess.
His ugly final words to her echoed in his mind as he slipped through the bushes and alleys. She'd opened him up and he hadn't expected it. He couldn't afford to be naked and vulnerable in front of one of Lazarus women. His instinct had been to shove her away, as fast and as hard as he could.
He headed back to Oak Terrace and set the audio data to run through the processors. It was going to take the voice recognition filters a while to sift through the massive data load of frequencies that the gulpers had gathered and polish up any matches it found with the frequencies of Lazar's or Novak's voices. He and the McClouds had planted virtually undetectable carrier current transmitters in Lazar's town house phones, neatly circumnavigating the problem of the digitally encrypted phone lines, but he hadn't yet pulled off the same trick for Stone Island. Phone calls from that location were still an unknown quantity, representing a gaping hole in his surveillance coverage. Which bothered the hell out of him.
Oh, God. He couldn't sit around in that cramped, suffocating place and watch data crunching. He had to get out into the wide, glittering night. He felt dangerous and wired. Two head-banging, mind-blowing orgasms should've chilled him out, but he was more wound up than ever. He bolted for the Chevy and set off, speeding through the streets, mind racing. Incoherent and out of control, streaming with data, images and feelings, fire and smoke.
Connor McCloud's words echoed through his mind when he saw the exit that would take him to Templeton Street. “They get that look you've got on your face, then they fuck up, then they die badly.” Seth didn't slow down until he parked half a block from her house. He wondered if the events of this afternoon, plus whatever idiocy he might yet perpetrate tonight, qualified as an official fuck-up.
He slid down on the seat until his face was in full shadow, stared up at her house, and concluded that it did. Look at him, lurking in the dark like a stalker. At least at this hour, nobody was likely to notice him and call the cops. That would be the crowning indignity.
From this vantage point, he could cover both front and back entrances plus monitor the lights in the living room, bedroom and bathroom. From this distance, thanks to Kearn's evil genius, he could just flip on the receiver he'd built into the Chevy's dash and watch every move she made on his laptop, without even the benefit of a phone line.
Better yet, he could disable her alarm, pick all three locks, and walk right in. It made him furious, how vulnerable she was. Which made no sense, since her lack of defenses was entirely to his advantage. Nothing made sense tonight.
The hypothetical scene played in his mind. She would be furious at first, but he would plead and grovel until she softened up. He knew exactly how to turn her on. Having once gotten through her barriers, he knew the way now like he was born to it. He knew how to get under her guard just as he knew how to disable her alarm and pick her locks. He had great instincts when it came to sex. They had never failed him—at least not while he was actively engaged in it
Afterwards, of course, was another story. But he wouldn't worry about that now. One step at a time, for God's sake.
First the words and the charm. Then the kissing and cuddling, until Raine calmed down and started to cling to him, sweet and trusting. He would pet her and nuzzle her until she started to secretly wonder if he were ever going to do anything more. And when he felt the subtle signs of that restless energy building inside her, that was his cue.
Then he would lay her out on the bed or couch or carpet, whatever was closest, and pleasure her with his mouth until she had forgotten why she was mad at him. Until she was writhing, slick, wide open. Begging him. Delicious. Easy. Like taking candy from a baby. He had the means, he had the power, but when he reached for the door handle, something strange happened. He just... stopped.
He had no choice. The control tower in his head had been taken over in a surprise coup. An unfamiliar command team was running everything. Strange thoughts took form in his mind, bewildering him. Just because he could pick her locks didn't mean necessarily that he should. After today, the least he could do was guard her house, ensure her one night of genuine safety. He even felt too inhibited to just flick on the receiver, power up the X-Ray Specs program and watch her, the way he'd been watching her for weeks. It felt all wrong tonight She'd given him everything she had to give, and he'd taken it all and paid her back with... oh, shit. Whatever. He felt bad, he was sorry. Enough already.
It was stupid. A pointless tribute that she would never appreciate. She would never know what it cost him to leave his magic tricks in the bag and just sit there in the dark, helpless and inert.
It was bizarre. He had never been chivalrous in his entire life. That was Jesse's department.
Even a fleeting thought of his young brother was a mistake. He was helpless to push away unwanted thoughts tonight They raced through his mind, tumbling over each other, maddened by their unaccustomed liberty.
Memory triggered memory. Even minor ones made his gut cramp. Jesse's dirt-colored hair that stuck straight up in a case of perpetual bed head. His green eyes, shining like the headlights of a car. His hundred-mile-an-hour intelligence, his zingy one-liners. His extravagant affection for the whole world, even when it kicked him in the teeth.