Nylon Angel Read online

  I wasn't exactly happy about being alone with Daac but fatigue dampened my finer instincts. And I didn't have any better ideas.

  He went to the fridge and ripped open two beers. "San's in there." He pointed toward the bathroom door.

  "You first," I insisted, not sure that I trusted him.

  Or myself.

  He shrugged and took his drink into the shower.

  The beer tasted wonderful. I gulped down most of the can and when I was sure the water was safely running, I slid the wiper out of my top and began to examine it. After a quick check to make sure the unit's PC had nothing much on it, I gingerly sleeved the disk. It was a clever piece of deception, for all intents formatted like normal storage—with fake download icons—while it actually erased.

  "Couldn't wait, eh?" Daac spoke quietly into my ear.

  I stopped the disk running and swiveled abruptly.

  He pulled a side table across to sit on. Moisture from the shower glistened on his skin. It made me aware of how filthy my hair must be and that what was left of the caftan hung in clumps.

  "I should shower now," I said nervously.

  He shook his head. "I don't think this can wait any longer."

  "OK," I agreed cautiously. "So start talking."

  "I told you about Anna's research?"

  "What's she got to do with it?" I frowned.

  He gave the fleetest of smiles. "Didn't you wonder who might be funding it? How someone with my background had access to a fully fitted lab and an ultralight? How I could come and go so easily in Viva?"

  I shrugged. "I guess I figured Anna had money herself. Hell, she owns acreage."

  "She also has some advanced genetic research teknology available. Even Anna's inherited wealth has limits."

  I thought of the body scanner. "So what's your point?"

  He paused again, his flesh hand twitching. The man was wrestling with some serious discord.

  "Knowing this will put you in more danger."

  More danger! "Well, not knowing is definitely gonna get me killed," I said dryly.

  "Razz Retribution is… was funding our research."

  My mouth opened and closed stupidly for a moment. Why would a media princess fund research to help the wasted?

  He knew what I was thinking. "She had… her reasons. But someone knew about the results. They figured if they snuffed out our financial backing then we would have to stop."

  "Who?" The blood in my veins turned to ice.

  "I'm not sure. At least I'm not sure why. But it didn't stop there. They've stolen Anna's research as well. The only other records of everything we've done are on that disk." His voice trembled as he nodded toward the PC.

  My heart lurched. What should I tell him? That I'd wiped it? Or that I'd wiped some of it and saved the rest? How much did I trust him?

  Easy answer.

  Not!

  I played for time. "Why did Lang hook me into this robbery?"

  "My guess is he wants to hang something on Jamon. Everyone knows you're er… Jamon's… property. Any act you commit would be linked to him. And… Parrish… you're the perfect decoy. Enough smarts to look like a burglar. Expendable. What bait did he use to get you to do it? I bet it wasn't just cred."

  His last statement galled. Made me want to scream. But hell, it was true.

  I hunched on the chair, shivering, thinking about how Lang had scammed me. He'd promised me the files would see Jamon in jail. He'd neglected to say that I'd be there too.

  If Daac hadn't pulled me out of the moat, I'd be quod fodder right now.

  We sat for a moment in silence.

  I felt his impatience—waiting for me to hand the disk over.

  In the end I rose stiffly, not able to look in his face. "The disk is all yours." I pulled it out of the sleeve and handed it to him. "But it's a wiper. It was cam-ouflaged. I erased her hard drive before I realized. I'm sorry. Looks like he played us all."

  Daac's face shattered into disbelief and shock.

  "I'm going to take a shower," I said.

  In the bedroom I removed my pins and the Zip disk, and hid the Zip in my boots. Then I washed my leather tank, which had begun to resemble something dead and dried. Finally, I climbed into the san. Hot water was the best thing that had happened to me in a long while. As it drummed my tired, battered muscles and raw knee, I mulled over Daac's revelations about Razz.

  I'd been cage dancing, it seemed, for people I didn't even know.

  Much as I hated to admit it, Daac's little rescue mission had kept me from jail.

  But what about him?

  Instinct had made me keep quiet about the Zip disk. I had no idea how much of it was corrupted, and how much information survived—if any—but I wasn't sharing that news until I worked out Daac's angle.

  He'd rescued me, sure. But he'd also tailed me, and then let me walk into an ambush with the idea of busting me out only so he could get hold of Razz's files.

  I didn't know whether to be mad or obliged. So I stepped from the shower, still dripping, into a robe and searched for something to patch my knee. I found skin plaster in the bathroom cabinet. I flexed it a few times and stalked back into the small living area.

  He sat, slumped and defeated, on one of the narrow couches, nursing another can.

  "There's one thing you forgot to explain. Why are you so busy running around saving my carcass? Was it just to get the disk? Or do I serve some other purpose in your game plan?"! demanded.

  He stared at his drink in a strange, disconnected fashion. It reminded me of the look I'd seen on Lang's face at Jamon's dinner.

  "My gens have always lived in The Tert. It's our land. Long before Mondo and Lang's. Even though we don't exist as a tribe anymore—our task does."

  "Your task?" His flat tone gave me the creeps.

  "Our land is poisoned and sick. Our Task is to reclaim it, bring it to health, bring its people to health. I'm not the first to want it. But I'm the one that will succeed."

  He said the last with all the conviction of the Godhead.

  "What gens?" I retorted. "The Tert is a rubbish dump of people and waste."

  A sneer ghosted his face. "You're from Viva, aren't you? Originally, I mean. You wouldn't understand about family and place. When people return to one place over generations, it becomes part of their soul's code. No matter how mean or putrid it is."

  My eyes widened. "You're a native of the continent?"

  Daac laughed harshly. "Maybe once. Genetically I'm as much a mishmash as you. But gens is a complicated thing. Hard to define. Those of us that carry the thread of l'origine know and understand. We've kept records."

  "L'origine. Who else shares this crazy notion?"

  He focused on the blank wall opposite. "There are many. Some you even know."

  "Yeah," I said skeptically, "try me."

  His gaze burned like a blowtorch. "This information is not given lightly, Parrish. Treat it with respect."

  My shivers came back. "OK," I said. "Cross my heart and all the rest…"

  He didn't look satisfied. But it was the best I could do. Today—this week—had been too weird. I waited, mopping the drips from my hair on the robe, while he decided what he would tell me.

  "Raul Minoj," he said, finally.

  "Minoj!" I yipped.

  The last half an hour had ripped my understanding of my world in half. Now Daac was handing out free facelifts to the people I knew.

  "But I asked Minoj if he knew—'"

  "He is my gens, Parrish, not my friend. There is a difference. He may not speak well of me. Or speak of me at all. But he would always help me. And he would never betray me."

  "Oh." I sank down into the opposite couch. "So Anna's research will heal your gens?" I said, speaking slowly.

  "Yes."

  "But where do I fit in?" My voice trembled in a manner that I positively did not like.

  He levered himself up and joined me on my seat, wedging his torso and thigh against mine. Then he reached his r
eal hand out and cupped my face.

  "What exactly did Lang hire you to do?"

  I thought for a moment. There seemed no harm in telling him now. "He said if I secured files from the PC at this address I would get a reward. Seemed easy enough. I had no idea it was Razz Retribution's house."

  "Lione. Her real name was Lione Marchand," he said.

  Emotion caused his hand to tighten on my jaw and something told me not to pull away. I stilled, fighting the trapped feeling.

  "What was your reward, Parrish?"

  "He said he'd get Jamon off my back."

  "And now?"

  "I guess he set me up. Told me to download the files and gave me a wiper instead. He didn't figure on the cavalry coming to bail me out." I tried a grin but he had my cheeks in a death grip. "Thanks, by the way."

  "Those files were my only chance to save what we've learned. Without them Anna must begin again. Only…"

  "Yes?" I encouraged.

  "Only now most of the money has also gone."

  I could see grief and frustration in his eyes.

  "Why didn't you go and get them yourself?" I asked. "You said you could get onto M'Grey."

  "For the same reason I had to help you get out. I couldn't risk being turned into the scapegoat. I didn't murder Lione. But they want blood. Nobody kills media and stays free."

  Then who did? The question hung unanswered between us.

  "I should hate you for using me," I sighed. "But I'm too tired and hungry."

  "I didn't exactly use you, Parrish. When I returned to The Tert, Sto needed protection and I needed time to sort things out. You kept him safe while I got in touch with my people. There was a purpose to that. When you're meant to do great things there are always people who help you."

  I stared openmouthed at his rationalization and wondered how he could sound so plausible one moment, and so insane the next.

  His hand dropped from my face and he traced the line of the robe where it crossed over my breasts. I could have slapped him away but the scent of his body overpowered me. The deeper I inhaled, the further I sank.

  I remembered his tongue in my mouth.

  His next words came slowly, like a man unwinding his self-control in tiny movements. "I need you now."

  I laughed shakily. "Sure of yourself, aren't you?"

  He nodded. "On this, yes."

  I couldn't think of a comeback. I mean, what do you say to that?

  I knew I should run. Or shout, "No way, not in twenty lifetimes."

  Call it weakness.

  Call it vanity.

  Call it downright confusion.

  Call it the cobra paralyzed by the sway of the charmer. But I did nothing.

  He leaned forward and ran his tongue over my lips. "Kiss me," he whispered huskily, "please."

  His appeal was irresistible. Like his scent, and his smile, and his strange, brown eyes.

  Tentatively I did what he asked. Feeling the warmth as his mouth closed around mine.

  He kissed gently, drinking me in.

  The sensation was heady, tantalizing. Driving away my hesitation.

  He made noise in the back of his throat. His flesh hand slipped to my breast. It was warm and too damn good to push away.

  Without warning he tumbled us both to the floor and pulled my robe apart, levering himself off me to gaze at my body.

  His voice trembled. "Parrish, you are beautiful."

  I am not beautiful.

  Strong. Adept. Athletic. But not beautiful. Somewhere in my hormone-saturated brain a warning bell rang. But it got buried under an earthquake of need.

  Instead of trying to enter me, he bent his head to the top of my thighs and tongued wet strokes across them. Then he parted my legs and settled himself between them, his face pressed up tight and hungry.

  My body ached and my knee stung, but I lay there, totally seduced, and to my chagrin, orgasmed in seconds.

  He drew back and smiled. Triumph? Amusement? Take your pick.

  Then he slowly got to his feet.

  "You can have the bed," he said.

  I felt the loss of his body heat like a blow. I wanted to reach out for him, tell him to stay. Bring his strange intensity back to me. But I couldn't. Didn't know how.

  So what's new?

  * * * *

  Hours later I woke with the condo's mean bedroom windows casting a pale, narrow light into the room. When I enquired, the time display told me it was five thirty in the morning.

  I climbed stiffly off the bed, tired and tender. My stomach complained noisily. I couldn't remember when I'd eaten last but it seemed a long time ago. The last few years I'd gotten used to living on small amounts of food, but it never stopped me wanting more.

  I limped out of the bedroom to find the living area empty.

  My insides churned when I took in the empty beer cans and the floor between the narrow couches.

  "Having a vision?"

  Daac had let himself in the front door quietly and stood behind me.

  I pulled my robe tighter, turning to face him squarely. He wore a fresh set of jeans and T-shirt.

  "You sneak around good for your size." I scowled.

  He ignored my sarcasm, and my awkwardness, and threw a small case at me. "Clothes and whatever I owe you."

  Owe?

  I had to let go of the robe to catch it.

  He set his other package down and began to unpack food. Involuntarily my mouth began to water.

  "Hungry?" he asked.

  "Maybe. Where'd you get your clothes?"

  "It's not the first time I've been here. There are places you can buy things without questions, even in Viva. Eggs?"

  "What?" I said, startled. "In the shell?"

  He nodded and began pressing pads on the cooka.

  After a second of indecision I picked up the bag and headed to the bedroom. "Five. Sunny side up," I called and disappeared.

  The whatever made my eyes water and my pulse quicken. A bona fide Glock pistol—not like the repro Minoj had sold me; a concealable rifle, grenades and a collection of knives to excite any Mueno.

  The clothes were nearly as good. I pulled out a set of fatigues, a black velour two-piece and mesh body armor. The body armor was light and flexible but tougher than anything I'd ever worn. I pulled on my clean leather tank top, replastered my knee and slipped into the mesh. Then I hesitated. Much as I wanted to wear the fatigues they weren't Viva. If I had to go out on the streets again I didn't want any extra attention. So I opted for the two-piece and stashed the fatigues back in the case.

  Then I peered into the mirror and spoke sternly to myself.

  He's gorgeous… but he's crazy. Remember that!

  * * * *

  The smell of food eventually lured me back out into the living area.

  Daac gave me a quick, appraising glance and then concentrated on dishing up eggs, cooked bread and a hot liquid that looked like muddy water and tasted fantastic.

  I sat at the breakfast bar and took a sip. "Tea?" I murmured appreciatively.

  He nodded.

  "I heard you could get it again, in Viva. They've found a new way to grow it."

  Daac slid a plate in front of me.

  It looked great, right down to the little bread triangles and bits of green stuff for decoration. I prayed my stomach would handle it.

  As I was about to take the first bite, I remembered the cuttlefish Jamon had tried to serve me. I paused midscoop. "Battery hens?"

  He sat down opposite me and took a mouthful of his own. "Of course. I'm not trying to poison you with free-range stuff, Parrish," he said dryly. "Not after crawling through water pipes for the express purpose of keeping you alive."

  He had a point there. I picked up my fork and began shoveling.

  Daac ate more slowly, an amused gleam in his eye.

  "What's so funny?" I asked suspiciously.

  "When was the last time you ate?"

  "Breakfast at the Emporium," I said, stuffing hot bread into my mou
th.

  "And before that?"

  "A while." His attention was making me uncomfortable. In fact the whole thing did. Sitting, eating break fast together, making conversation—it wasn't normal!

  I tried changing the topic. "What exactly did Razz—Lione—have on her files?"

  He sighed. "Anna's identified the genes that produce the genetic resistance to heavy metals. We were about to begin mass splicing of individual DNA. In fact we've already trialed some. In a generation or two the changes will be reproducing themselves more quickly than if we waited for the process to occur naturally. Our birthrate in The Tert is surprisingly high—but this way our children might actually stay alive a bit longer. We kept a backup of everything on Razz's PC. It was part of the agreement. Her security is so tight, it seemed a good idea."

  Tight? Yeah, well I could vouch for that! "You seem to know a lot about this science gig."

  He shrugged. "ALC."

  Accelerated Learning Chip. Somehow I didn't buy that. There was something about his whole manner—at times it was almost… moneyed… educated beyond the normal Viva netschooler. Certainly not Tert scum.

  "So how will you finance it now?"

  "Maybe, in time, we can convince someone else to back the project. At the moment it's too risky—not knowing who we're up against."

  "Where's this come from?" I tugged at my clothes and gestured to the case. "And this apartment? Who pays for that?"

  Daac looked away from me, embarrassed. "People owe me… at least they owed Razz. I pulled in some favors. She had a lot of influence," he said finally.

  His meaning struck me like a whiplash. "You were balling her, weren't you? She owned you!"

  He didn't answer.

  Unreasonable anger flared in me. Like a girl who'd just found out the guy she was smitten with was a porn star.

  "Who else? I's'pose you're doing Schaum as well."

  He leaned over the breakfast bar, no longer embarrassed. More like a thunderhead about to drop its load.

  "And who the hell do you think you are? A vestal virgin?"

  I stiffened, fists clenched. "I play it straight. That's who I am. Just trying to find a piece of air that no one else can fuck up."

  "Can anyone join in, or is this a private show?"

  Ibis's mild voice stopped us dead in our tracks. The plump man strolled into the room taking in the dirty plates. He threw me an outrageously flirtatious grin. "What are you complaining about? He cooked you breakfast."