something to think about other than her own death, her brief night of passion with Brandt, or convincing the intriguing Mr. Nash that she really wasn’t the insane lunatic that Roberts insisted she was.
Jynx sat immobile on her bunk as she looked to the door Foster had exited through. When he’d walked away, she watched his butt with the same fascination he seemed to have for her breasts. Indulging herself, acknowledging her interest as far more than cursory, she couldn’t help but immediately think of his blue eyes. Never-Fail Nash had eyes as open, trusting and compelling as a child’s. He seemed to know it and resent it. The rest of his face tried to make up for the compassion in his gaze with lowered, ominous brows and a tight little frown. To most the disguise would be effective, but not to her. She didn’t have to slip into his mind and look out through his eyes. She could see everything clearly by looking in.
Never-Fail Nash didn’t like that he had a base nature of compassion. He liked it even less that she could see his gentleness and had the ability to speak directly to it.
He accused her of playing him when he knew in his own heart she wasn’t. She had no reason to lie, and he had every reason to doubt her, but he didn’t. Ruthless, brutal, vicious—the legendary Never-Fail Nash hid a marshmallow heart behind a thick coat of bulging muscles and naked hostility.
Trust is for suckers, he’d said, yet he trusted her. She knew the truth with a glance. She didn’t envy him the conflict he felt. He trusted her, but he had to deliver her to Roberts. If her reputation could never be saved, his reputation would perish in flames if he helped her. The legend of Never-Fail Nash rested squarely on her shoulders.
“I’d have to kill him to get away.”
Foster would pursue her until she died or he did. She could never kill anyone to save herself. Not even Roberts. Since she couldn’t kill Mr. Nash, she accepted the fact that he wouldn’t kill her either. Roberts would kill her. Personally. There wouldn’t be torture or confinement or a lengthy trial. Roberts wanted her alive to kill her. Probably live on the Tasher with trillions of IWOG consumers watching, every channel riveted to the drama.
“A very bloody and public execution.” Just the thought of it made her shiver. She touched the side of her bra. She had a way of denying that sick pleasure to Roberts, and she would when the time came. She pulled her hand away and cast a guilty look at the com unit. Hopefully, he’d not seen that telling gesture.
The entire scheme fell apart if there was any doubt about her death. Roberts would likely shoot for her heart so her face would still be presentable for the media. No doubt Roberts would plaster even more pictures of her dead body around, proof the evil menace had been destroyed. Roberts gets the credit, moves up in rank, and all it cost was one clueless IWOG doctor. Who the hell would ever believe her that it was all a vast conspiracy?
Work and sleep had taken up most of her time in the last three years. Welcome to the IWOG Military. Check your personal life at the door. They’d drafted her into service with a twenty-four-hour warning. Sadly, that was all it took for her to wrap up her life. She said good-bye to everyone in the hospital, and they wished her well with a hurried indifference.
“And now they are all dead too.” A freak accident with the heating system wiped out everyone in the hospital. But the more she thought about the timing of that accident—two weeks after the lab explosions—she doubted it was any kind of accident at all.
She didn’t want to think about the past anymore, because she couldn’t do anything to change what had happened. Her total lack of control over everything in the future also frustrated her. At the moment, she didn’t even control her own air. Foster could shut it off, and she’d be dead in an hour or so. Roberts wouldn’t like that, but at least Roberts
Jynx sat immobile on her bunk as she looked to the door Foster had exited through. When he’d walked away, she watched his butt with the same fascination he seemed to have for her breasts. Indulging herself, acknowledging her interest as far more than cursory, she couldn’t help but immediately think of his blue eyes. Never-Fail Nash had eyes as open, trusting and compelling as a child’s. He seemed to know it and resent it. The rest of his face tried to make up for the compassion in his gaze with lowered, ominous brows and a tight little frown. To most the disguise would be effective, but not to her. She didn’t have to slip into his mind and look out through his eyes. She could see everything clearly by looking in.
Never-Fail Nash didn’t like that he had a base nature of compassion. He liked it even less that she could see his gentleness and had the ability to speak directly to it.
He accused her of playing him when he knew in his own heart she wasn’t. She had no reason to lie, and he had every reason to doubt her, but he didn’t. Ruthless, brutal, vicious—the legendary Never-Fail Nash hid a marshmallow heart behind a thick coat of bulging muscles and naked hostility.
Trust is for suckers, he’d said, yet he trusted her. She knew the truth with a glance. She didn’t envy him the conflict he felt. He trusted her, but he had to deliver her to Roberts. If her reputation could never be saved, his reputation would perish in flames if he helped her. The legend of Never-Fail Nash rested squarely on her shoulders.
“I’d have to kill him to get away.”
Foster would pursue her until she died or he did. She could never kill anyone to save herself. Not even Roberts. Since she couldn’t kill Mr. Nash, she accepted the fact that he wouldn’t kill her either. Roberts would kill her. Personally. There wouldn’t be torture or confinement or a lengthy trial. Roberts wanted her alive to kill her. Probably live on the Tasher with trillions of IWOG consumers watching, every channel riveted to the drama.
“A very bloody and public execution.” Just the thought of it made her shiver. She touched the side of her bra. She had a way of denying that sick pleasure to Roberts, and she would when the time came. She pulled her hand away and cast a guilty look at the com unit. Hopefully, he’d not seen that telling gesture.
The entire scheme fell apart if there was any doubt about her death. Roberts would likely shoot for her heart so her face would still be presentable for the media. No doubt Roberts would plaster even more pictures of her dead body around, proof the evil menace had been destroyed. Roberts gets the credit, moves up in rank, and all it cost was one clueless IWOG doctor. Who the hell would ever believe her that it was all a vast conspiracy?
Work and sleep had taken up most of her time in the last three years. Welcome to the IWOG Military. Check your personal life at the door. They’d drafted her into service with a twenty-four-hour warning. Sadly, that was all it took for her to wrap up her life. She said good-bye to everyone in the hospital, and they wished her well with a hurried indifference.
“And now they are all dead too.” A freak accident with the heating system wiped out everyone in the hospital. But the more she thought about the timing of that accident—two weeks after the lab explosions—she doubted it was any kind of accident at all.
She didn’t want to think about the past anymore, because she couldn’t do anything to change what had happened. Her total lack of control over everything in the future also frustrated her. At the moment, she didn’t even control her own air. Foster could shut it off, and she’d be dead in an hour or so. Roberts wouldn’t like that, but at least Roberts
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