And suddenly the pounding blood colors fell apart, muting into spring green and sky blue. The horrible feeling of drowning ebbed.
More importantly, Nikos’s features eased into their normal severity. His eyes opened, a warm seal brown, and landed on me. “Twyla. You did it. You saved us.”
He swept me into a kiss. All the rest of what he had to say was nonverbal, but quite eloquent.
When questioned about the strange images on some of the film from that night, nobody could answer. Nobody remembered that anything was off with the light show, almost as if their memories had been erased. And the films themselves disappeared, one by one. You can still see their holes on the Internet.
We found Aylmer and the rest of the crews on an untenanted floor. The crews went on to finish New Year’s in grand style. Aylmer had taken a clean shot to the leg, which had bled a lot but caused no damage to bone or nerves. After the EMTs cleaned and stitched and gave him fluids, he was taken into custody by some suspiciously handsome police officers. He was eventually released to go home and play with his tinfoil hats, any memory of v-guys forgotten. The officers also searched Jones’s brownstone loft, where plans for future terrorist acts were found.
“It was a human after all,” I said on the flight back. I was sitting next to Nikos in a private jet piloted by Bruce, ultra first class. For the first time I felt like I belonged. “Not the New York Cadre, or whatever they call themselves.”
“This time.”
We were back to the Spartan. And he was hogging the window seat. Well, one thing at a time. “I know, their philosophy isn’t the same as yours. But this proved you have some of the same goals. Doesn’t that mean there’s hope you can find some common ground?”
“Maybe.” His eyes shaded red.
“But…?”
There was a soft ding. “We’re about to hit some turbulence, sir.” Bruce even sounded a little like Bruce Lee. “I’ll try to get above it.”
Nikos popped the intercom. “Fine.” He turned to me. “I didn’t say but.”
“No, but your eyes did.” I wasn’t a musician, able to hear lies in the nuance of a voice. But I had other methods, other expertise, and I’d forgotten that. Nikos had helped me remember.
He sighed, the barest breath. “The code.”
“Code-you mean the program used to control the Ball?”
“And screens, yes. It was written by Steale Programové. Steale Software.”
“So? Wait, that sounds familiar. Isn’t Steel Software a big security software firm? One of the biggest in the Midwest, I think.”
“Steel Software, with an ‘e’, yes. This is a rip-off. That’s how our computer guru hacked in so quickly. He recognized most of the base code as his own.”
“That’s awful!”
“But common in second- and third-world countries.”
The plane shook like a car on a rough patch of road. I pushed down a slight feeling of panic. “What, you mean like China?”
“And the Middle East and the old Soviet Bloc. Ever hear of Adibas shoes? Hanghai Sharpies?”
“And you’re worried. Don’t try to deny it.” I brushed fingertips against his cheek. “Your skin is hardened like glazed pottery.”
A half-smile touched his lips. “It may be nothing. But until we know, we’re increasing staffing and security on all Alliance-protected blood centers.”
We’d broken the single-syllable barrier. But he was still hogging the window seat. One down, one to go. I reached over him to open the shade.
“Twyla.” Nikos caught my hand, his eyes telling me I’d crossed yet another of his internal lines.
“Why do you do that, anyway? All the invisible lines and such.” It hit me. “You were a Vietnam vet.”
“And other wars. Many more.”
“As a general?” We hit a pocket of nothing, dropped abruptly. My body dropped but my stomach stayed up for a second, zinging back like a snapped rubber band. I clutched the armrest, forgot about opening the shade. It was a good thing I couldn’t see out.
Nikos didn’t seem to notice. “I was more often a foot soldier as the need for anonymity grew. Twyla, are you going somewhere with this?”
He knew me so well already. “The way you talked to Jones-it sounded personal. And your fear of crowds has to be recent. You couldn’t have fought in a phalanx otherwise.”
He sighed. “And you’re just going to keep digging around my ramparts, aren’t you?”
“Yep.” My smile faltered as we rumbled over midair speed bumps.
“ Vietnam was different. Even in WWII they put us on ships to come home. We had time to discuss what had happened. You’re right. The ‘invisible lines’ as you call them, the hate of crowds, came only after Nam. Maybe dioxin impurities in Agent Orange did me permanent damage, though it’s rare for my kind not to heal.”
“No. You have PTSD.”
He stared at me as if I’d gone mad.
“Post traumatic stress disorder. I had to go to all sorts of training on it when my brother first went over to Iraq. Have you ever seen a good psychiatrist?”
He blinked. “To diagnose one of my kind? No.”
“Then I’ll call my brother. He’ll be able to recommend a few. I’ll get several names. Maybe there’s one who knows about you v-guys.”
“But-”
“No buts, Nikos. This isn’t something I want to fool around with. We need to get you healthy and happy.”
His eyes warmed. “When we are married, my life will change in more ways than one.”
“Marrie-” The plane hit a huge void. My stomach dropped out my toes. “Who said anything about marriage?”
“Healthy and happy? You dream of happily ever after, do you not?”
My cheeks heated. I never admitted that out loud, never thinking enough of myself that I deserved HEA. “Well, maybe. But I’m a strong, independent woman, as you pointed out. I don’t need to get married to be everything I can be. Especially now that I’ve found I’m good in a crisis.” Although this was shaping up to be a new crisis, and I wasn’t sure I could handle it.
“Yes. Strong and independent.” Nikos started purring, which worried me. And his sable eyes took on a distinctly persimmon cast.
“What?”
He glanced at the closed door at the back of the short cabin. Maybe it led to the restroom.
“Oh.” Cautiously I took off my seatbelt and got up, holding the seat back in case the plane pulled any more rollercoaster moves.
Nikos passed me, hooked two fingers under my neckline and bra strap and towed me in his wake.
“What-?”
He opened the door and I stared, not at a compact toilet but at wall-to-wall bed. “You can’t mean…we have turbulence. It’s dangerous. I need to keep my seatbelt on.” I lurched back toward my seat.
He hooked me again, nearly took my sweater off. “I could secure you with my ties.” His purr increased.
“Nikos, no. I’m strong and independent and-” I was sailing through the air. I landed on the bed with a whump, a very naked vampire landing on top of me. I put out hands to stop him. My palms smacked against rock-hard muscle covered in hot velvet.
“Don’t worry, love.” He leaned forward to kiss me. His weight bore me to the mattress, pinned me there. “I’ll keep you safe.”
And then, before I could say another word his mouth captured mine.
His kiss was the charge of a Spartan general, phalanx of lips, teeth and tongue ramming my resistance, spearing hot into my defenses.
But I was a strong, independent woman. I was not going down without a fight. I grabbed his shorn head and kissed him back, sparring with his tongue, darting my own fire into his dark spicy mouth.