A Chip in His Shoulder

Table of Contents TABLE OF CONTENTS

TABLE OF CONTENTS Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Also by L.A. Witt

About the Author

Riptide Publishing PO Box 6652 Hillsborough, NJ 08844 http://www.riptidepublishing.com This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. A Chip in His Shoulder Copyright © 2011 by L.A. Witt Cover Art by L.C. Chase, http://lcchase.com/design.htm Editor: Aleksandr Voinov and Rachel Haimowitz Layout: L.C. Chase All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information

storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at [email protected]. ISBN: 978-1-937551-12-4 Printed in the United States of America First edition November, 2011 ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: We thank you kindly for purchasing this title. Your non-refundable purchase legally allows you to replicate this file for your own personal reading only,

on your own personal computers and devices. Unlike paperback books, sharing ebooks is the same as stealing them. Please do not violate the author’s copyright and harm their livelihood by sharing or distributing this book, in part or whole, for fee or free, without the prior written permission of

both the publisher and the copyright owner. We love that you love to share the things you love, but sharing ebooks—whether with joyous or malicious intent— steals royalties from authors’ pockets and makes it difficult, if not impossible, for them to be able to afford to keep writing the stories you love. Piracy has sent more than one beloved series the way of the dodo. We appreciate your honesty and support.

To Aleks and Rachel, Without whom this story wouldn’t be what it is. Thank you. (And Liam hasn’t forgiven either of you.) L. A.

“Why is my son still alive, Liam?” The irritation in Richard Harding’s voice set my teeth on edge. “I’m running out of patience.” “Do you want it done quickly, or do you want it done right?” I muttered as I adjusted my cell phone’s earpiece. “Choice is yours, but it’s one or the other.” “I want it done. You’re not getting sentimental about this job, are you?” I stopped dead in my tracks, my boot scuffing on the sidewalk. “I beg your pardon?” “It’s a valid question, don’t you think? Given your . . . history with Daniel.” I nearly gave into the urge to grind my teeth. “That was a long time ago. This is business.” “Then get it done. This is taking entirely too long.” I started walking again, taking longer, faster strides. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my duster and nestled my face into the high collar to keep from choking on the downdraft of thick, acrid

pollution. “For the record, that UV-resistant mod that’s been ‘in development’ since the dawn of time would have sped up this process considerably.” “That mod is still in the experimental phase,” he said. “You know that.” “Then this will take some time. If you wanted it done faster, you might have lit a fire under the asses of the people who could give me the ability to move around in daylight.” He huffed. “Just get it done. I’m a patient man, but —” “Has the money been transferred?” “Yes.” I stepped up to the curb and gestured for a cab. “All of it?” “Yes. All of it. Now get it done, Liam.” I laughed. “Or what?” Silence. Long, telling silence: Harding was desperate. He had to be. Men didn’t put themselves on my radar unless they had no other options. For Harding to contact me and offer up so much money, he had to be beyond desperate. Pity for him he didn’t realize I’d have done the job for a fraction of the price. Had I ever crossed paths with Daniel

Harding again, I’d have put a few bullets in him for free. But when a man offers you $10 million to take out his own son, you don’t argue. And neither, apparently, did he, because his end of the line was still silent. I laughed. “That’s what I thought.” As a cab nosed toward me and slowed down, I added, “Your son will be taken care of.” Before Harding could say anything more, I disconnected the call. I opened the cab’s door and slid into the backseat. The first taste of the air in there made my eyes water; there were disadvantages to an enhanced sense of smell, and enclosing myself in the capsule of filth and sweat that was a taxicab was one of them. “The microchip factory on Fourth Street,” I said, trying not to let on that I was gagging. The driver grunted an affirmative and pulled out into traffic. I could walk to the factory in twenty minutes, but the sidewalks between here and there were a gauntlet of thieves. Though muggers didn’t scare me in the least, they were an inconvenience. A delay. And

every minute wasted was a minute closer to sunrise. Streetlights glowed halfheartedly along the roadside, yellow clouds of mist swarming around each burning bulb. Passing cars sliced hazy bands of amber and gold into the fog, some with headlamps so dim and old they were barely functional. Even with the horrendous visibility down here, workers could only spend so much of their pittance of a salary on anything they couldn’t eat. There was a time when artificial lights, even this foggy darkness, necessitated a pair of sunglasses to keep from burning my eyes. These days, the caustic air stung, but my most recent optical mod included a self-adjusting tint that kept out even the most brutal fluorescents and mercury vapors. Now if the cybernetic companies could just do something about my skin, I’d be happy. But of course, they’d have to spend less time creating super-soldiers and sex goddesses if they actually wanted to outfit the city’s vampires with a mod to keep us from bursting into flames on contact with the daylight. But of course that was, and probably forever would be, “still in development.” While the cabbie drove, I took off my earpiece and

dropped it in my pocket. It was just a decoy device, something to tell passersby and anti-mod activists that no, I was not speaking to someone using a communications implant. What they didn’t know wouldn’t inconvenience me. With my left hand, I pressed the tiny nodule between the middle and third knuckles on my right hand. Everything in my field of vision darkened except the glowing blue-green displays visible only to me. I moved my hand until the nodule—now glowing the same color—lined up with the option for “display account.” I logged in and pulled up the transaction history. As promised, Harding had made the deposit. I transferred the money to another account, then split it between four others. Harding hadn’t been thrilled about having to pay in full upfront, but he wanted me and no one else for this hit, so he’d grudgingly agreed to my terms. I wanted to be damn sure he didn’t pull a fast one and try to withdraw the money between now and when the hit was complete. I couldn’t blame him if he did. $10 million was a lot of money, even for a cybernetics tycoon. For me, it

was a fortune and then some. After this hit, I’d be out of the Gutter and out of this Godawful line of work. I closed the display and deactivated the nodule, returning my vision to normal. Through the cab’s dingy window, I watched rundown people going about their business beside the line of decrepit cars in front of filthy, vandalized buildings. Third shift employees shuffled into factories, looking just as exhausted and haggard as the second shift shuffling out. This was the part of town where the destitute built the mods that bettered the lives of the wealthy. I sighed and pulled my gaze away. The cab lurched to a halt at the base of a brickfront building covered in a spiderweb of graffiti. The buildings in the Gutter were nearly indistinguishable from one to the next, but this was the right place. I’d been here enough times; I knew. I paid the driver, then stepped out and immediately buried my face in my jacket collar again. Here in the industrial heart of the city, the pollution was even thicker and more acrid. My eyes watered, and on top of the lingering aftertaste of the rancid air inside the cab, every whiff turned my stomach. There were mods on the market now that

filtered better than my zipped-up jacket collar, but those compromised senses on which I relied, so I dealt with it. I looked up at the factory. High above me, the feeble glow of the sixth-floor windows was just barely visible in the haze. The seventh floor wasn’t visible at all, but I’d done enough recon to— Footsteps. Behind me. Three meters to the rear and half a step to the left. All my senses immediately shifted, homing in on the approaching individual. Faulty attempt at stealth. Rapidly decreasing intervals between footfalls. Ambush. I rolled my eyes. I don’t have time for this. I spun, and my would-be attacker skidded to a startled halt, lip curled into a snarl and knife in the air. “Just gimme your cash, man.” His voice shook in spite of his aggressive stance. “I don’t want no harm, just—” “Put that knife away before you hurt yourself. You don’t know who you’re fucking with.” With that, I turned on my heel and started toward the side of the factory. Damned Gutter rat couldn’t hurt a vampire if he wanted to. “Hey! Hey!” The mugger lunged at me, and I spun

around again. We collided and the blade bit into my palm, but a swift kick to the idiot’s side sent the knife clattering to the pavement and its owner flying into the wall. He hit hard, grunting as his face met brick beneath a yellow spray-painted “Sky Must Fall” slogan. Groaning, he crumpled to his knees on the sidewalk. I glared at the thin, shallow wound on my hand. What the fuck? Times really were getting dangerous when petty thieves carried weapons that could penetrate a vampire’s flesh. My arm tingled as nanobots scrambled through my system to take care of the damage. I shuddered and rolled my shoulder; the microscopic machines had saved my life numerous times, but I never could get used to that skin-crawling sensation when they were on the move. My palm burned, and I flexed and straightened my fingers as the tissue fused back together. While the nanobots did their job, I turned to go, leaving my would-be assailant to figure out what had just happened. I made it three or four steps, then stopped and looked back. The mugger wasn’t seriously injured, but he was still disoriented. He’d probably have a

hell of a headache, but as soon as he was steady on his feet, he’d accost the next passerby. On the other hand, as long as he was down, he was vulnerable to the next thief. I chewed my lip. I was no stranger to the desperation that drove men to crime, especially down here in the Gutter. This was the cruelest part of a cruel world—a place that had driven me to make my living committing murder—and theft probably wasn’t just a hobby for a man with ragged, mismatched sneakers barely held together by fraying laces. I had no qualms about laying waste to the wealthy assholes who forced the rest of us to live like this, but the Gutter rats were like kin to me. It was us against them, so although I couldn’t afford the delay, I backtracked toward the mugger. When I picked up the knife, his eyes widened. He stared up at me, holding his head in one hand and showing his other palm. “Don’t . . . please . . .” He whimpered, drawing back and cringing like he was looking into the face of death.

If you only knew. I knelt and laid the knife on the pavement. Then I grabbed his wrist, dug a few tattered bills out of my pocket, and pressed the money into his palm. As I stood, I toed the knife toward him. “Careful where you point that thing. Now get the fuck out of here.” Then I walked away. I went around to one of the factory’s side doors. Through bribery, the black market, and a thinly-veiled threat, I’d obtained an access code and a badge. I glanced up and down the narrow alley, making sure I was alone. Then I swiped the badge and punched in the access code. The kid who’d hooked me up obviously valued his life, because the LED turned green and the door unlatched, just like it had during the other night’s test run. I pulled it open and slipped into the factory. The inside of the building was sweltering. The acrid stench of pollution wasn’t as strong, but the air was metallic and stank of brass, industrial lubricants, and heated rubber. Machinery clanged and rumbled. Conveyor belts hummed. Components clicked and clattered. Though I moved with practiced stealth, the factory’s noise gave me added insurance as I

slipped past the workers. I made my way to the back stairwell, then up to the seventh floor, where a second access code let me into the maintenance facility for the train station perched on top of the building. From there, I went into the restroom where I’d hidden a briefcase and backpack in the ceiling tiles. I quickly changed into the suit from the backpack, hid the bag and my duster back in the ceiling, and took the briefcase with me. At the sink, watching my reflection in the mirror, I carefully peeled away the false skin that hid the visible mod on my face. Black silicone and titanium covered my temple and formed a crescent around my left eye. It wasn’t all that useful now that I’d had the new display implanted with my ocular mod, and down in the Gutter, it was just the kind of thing that would make me a target of the anti-mods. Where I was going, though, a mod marked me as one of the elite. I discarded the false skin and scrutinized my reflection. Adjusted my tie. Tugged at my sleeve. Smoothed my hair. Once everything was perfect, nothing wrinkled or out of place, I picked up the

briefcase and left the gentlemen’s room. Looking like any other businessman on his way home from a late night at the office, I strolled through the thin crowd on the train platform to the stairwell. At the top of the stairs, I took a deep breath of crisp evening air and looked around. Though the Gutter was less than ten meters below my feet, it was a different world up here. Immense glass and metal buildings strained for the stratosphere all around me, and like crystalline capstones, glass penthouses gleamed and glittered on top of each towering structure. The elite of the elite lived in those. Cybernetics tycoons. Software lords. Heirs and heiresses to this or that empire. Huge fans below the streets kept the industrial pollution of the Gutter down, and the air up here was perfectly crystal clear. Everything was perfect here. The people of the Sky would never accept anything less.

Bitter resentment tightened my lips. I tore my gaze from the all-too-familiar skyline and walked half a block to my sleek, glass-fronted destination. I stepped through the double doors into a marbleladen lobby and strode right past security and the bowtied concierge like I had no reason to believe they’d stop me. Not that they’d know who I was even if they asked; my ID, fingerprints, and retina scans all linked me to a completely innocuous businessman on the lower-middle rung of what was acceptable here in the Sky. The suit and briefcase backed that up, and as long as my credentials checked out— which they would—no one would search me. At the elevator, I swiped the card Harding’s courier had given to my courier, who’d delivered it to a third courier, unaware he was handing it to me. I’d then repacked it, sent the original—now empty— packaging on to a dummy address in another district, and delivered the repacked card to a shop

on the other side of town, where I used false names to sign as both the courier and the recipient. It was a pain in the ass, but there was no such thing as taking too many precautions in this line of work. The doors opened. I stepped in and pressed the button for the top floor. As the elevator slid up the side of the building, its glass panels provided a spectacular view of the spikes of opulence and extravagance that made up the Sky’s horizon. I’d grown to hate this place. Year by year, the towers soared higher on top of the Gutter, which sank deeper into poverty: a physical manifestation of the ever-widening gap between those who demanded mods and those who made them. One cluster of spire-like buildings rose above the rest, their capstones glowing a deep amber instead of the brighter white of the penthouses. There my kin and the rest of my kind dwelled, every one of them a broken anti-UV-tinted window away from lethal sun exposure. Daylight be damned, they had to be on top. Elitist fuckers. Especially my family, who believed they were above even other vampires. Anyone even slightly below them was as good as Gutter-dwelling.

My gaze drifted from the penthouses to the lower floors. How many of those dark windows separated the outside world from heiresses fucking businessmen who were shamefully far below them? Maybe somewhere in this city, a pitiful surgical resident had the son of a powerful silicon importer bent over his father’s desk in one of those darkened offices. Or maybe I was the only one stupid enough to gamble with his precarious and all-important social standing for a piece of ass. The only one stupid enough to lose that gamble, anyway. Bitterness seeped into my mouth. I’d been among them once, that privileged upper echelon in the Sky, and I should still be living in one of those glittering amber-tinted penthouses without all this blood on my hands. But things didn’t work out that way. I looked skyward, as if I could see the penthouse that was my destination, and caressed the barrel of the gun beneath my jacket.

And so here we are, aren’t we, Daniel? At the top floor, I got out of the elevator, and anticipation quickened my heartbeat as I approached Daniel’s apartment.

The door was reinforced steel with a keypad beside it. Above the keypad, a laser-engraved placard read: D. Harding. In another lifetime, an identical placard had marked the entrance to his old apartment, and now I caught myself fighting the temptation to run my fingers over the letters, as if the surface might transport me back to the way things were before. Back when—

No, Liam. Fuck no. Don’t even go there. Just kill the fucker and be done with it. I tore my gaze away from the placard. The way things had been didn’t negate the years that had followed. Being ostracized. Barely surviving. One day I was living in luxury in a place just like this. The next I was on my knees in the Gutter, choking on the haze and begging for . . . For whatever I could get. A bed, shelter from the sun, just one neck from which to feed. While Daniel carried on living like a king, I’d whored myself in exchange for alcohol-saturated blood from the near-dead who could barely work up the energy to collect their halves of our bargains. I let my eyes dart back to the engraved letters.

D. Harding.

I shook my head and forced back the nostalgia and fondness that tried to tell me I’d regret killing him. No, that wasn’t going to happen. Five years ago, Daniel had set fire to my life and stood back to watch it burn. The only thing I regretted was waiting this long to come to this door with a gun. Still, I was torn between taking the money and running, or knocking down Daniel’s door and putting a few extra bullets into him for good measure. Yeah, I’d fantasized about this moment, I’d ached for the opportunity, but now . . . Back and forth my mind went. One minute, I wanted to kill him. The next I wanted . . . I wanted him. And for that, I especially wanted to kill him.

Do it, Liam. Just do it. I punched in the code Harding had given me, and the door slid open. The apartment was silent and dark but for the city lights glittering in the night sky through the wraparound glass walls. Daniel must have been asleep, which would make my job a hell of a lot easier. As the door slid shut behind me, I set my briefcase

beside it and withdrew one of my guns from my shoulder holster. I held it in both hands, keeping my finger on the trigger guard, and scanned my surroundings. Movement threw all my senses into higher alert. Four meters away, seven o’clock, no longer moving — All at once, every light in the penthouse flared to life, overwhelming my eyes for that instant before my ocular mod adapted. “Well.” Daniel’s voice spun me around, and even as I leveled my gun at him, he eyed me casually, leaning against a support pillar with his arms folded across his chest. “Liam. This is a surprise.” He sounded anything but surprised.

Daniel was far too at ease for someone staring down the barrel of a gun. His stance wasn’t defensive at all. More annoyed than anything. Bored, even. His narrow hips were cocked slightly, his hands completely relaxed over his biceps. Those broad, confidently set shoulders belonged to a man in charge, not one about to beg for his life. “What’s going on?” I asked. He nodded toward the gun in my hand. “Looks like you’re about to shoot me.” He shouldered himself off the pillar and held his hands out to the sides. “Well? Get on with it, then.” Cold water slithered through my veins. “You’re not surprised to see me.” “Oh, I am, and I’m not.” “Meaning?” He put his hand to his lips and his ice-blue eyes widened. “Was it supposed to be a surprise? Oh, I’m sorry.” Gesturing at a doorway that must have led to

his bedroom, he added, “I can come back in and pretend to be surprised this time.” His sarcasm set my teeth on edge, but it also raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Electric panic shot down my back and coiled at the base of my spine. “What’s going on, Daniel?” “You tell me.” He inclined his head. “You’re the one who’s here with a job to do.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Not a lot of time, though. You might want to get on with it. Oh, and when you’re through with that?” He nodded toward the door through which I’d come. “Good luck getting out of here.” My throat constricted, and my eyes darted toward the innocuous looking door, then back to him. Marks tried to play games with me all the time, but Daniel was way too calm. Way too in control of himself. Of the situation. This wasn’t like him; he’d never been the type who could bluff his way out of something like this without tipping his hand and revealing his underlying panic. Maybe he’d changed over the years. Or maybe he was the one in control. “Daniel . . .”

“If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to try the code Dad gave you.” He smirked. “Make sure the door actually opens before you take out the only person besides my father who can get the fucking thing open.” “Is that so? Fine.” I told myself I was only humoring him so I could regain the advantage, and turned toward the door. Showing him my back didn’t concern me; my reflexes would counter any move he tried to make, and even if he was armed, I already had my gun in hand. I punched in the code. Unrecognized. My heart dropped. I entered the code again. And again. And again. Unrecognized. Unrecognized. Unrecognized. Panic rippled through me, the likes of which I hadn’t felt in years. I was a caged animal. Flight wouldn’t get me anywhere, and neither would fight. I faced Daniel and leaned against the door. “What the fuck is going on?” Daniel laughed. “Well, it would seem you just got royally fucked, wouldn’t it?” Indeed, and now my mark without a doubt had the

upper hand. He knew more than I did. He had control. Much as I would have liked to shoot him right then and there just for spite, he was the only one who knew why my code didn’t work, which meant he was also the only one who stood a chance of getting me out. He likely had no interest in doing so, but killing him wouldn’t open the door. Injecting every ounce of calm I possessed into my voice, I asked, “What aren’t you telling me?” “You mean besides the part where you can go fuck yourself?” “Besides that.” “Well, basically, you’re screwed, I’m screwed, and I’m going to have a drink.” He turned his back to me like he wasn’t the least bit afraid, crossed the expansive suite, and went around behind the bar near one of the glass exterior walls. I swallowed. After a moment, I holstered my gun and followed Daniel. I stood opposite him at the bar and watched him mix his drink—vodka martini with barely a drop of vermouth, just the way he’d always liked it—with hands that were far too steady for a man in his position. Especially when that man was Daniel. He handled the bottle and glass like he was

about to have a drink with an old friend. Was this really the same Daniel who could break out in hives panicking over a university exam? Evidently a lot about him had changed. He’d abandoned the smooth, perfect hairstyle of the Sky in favor of something spiked and unruly, the dark roots contrasting sharply with the bleached ends. Such a Gutter style must have pissed Daniel’s father off something awful. Considering he’d been scared shitless of his father half a decade ago, long before the man had taken out a hit on him, this was not the same Daniel I knew back then. Drawing a breath, I willed myself to stay cool. “I don’t suppose you can humor me and tell me what the hell is going on.” “Well.” He paused to sip his drink. As he set it down, he met my eyes. “You are here to kill me.” He raised an eyebrow. “Right?” I exhaled. “Yeah.” Not even a flicker of surprise. “Which means Dad’s killing two birds with one stone. You take me out, the sun takes you out, and two thorns in his side are gone.” He raised his glass

in a mock toast and laughed bitterly. “Dad always was about efficiency.” The sun. I looked slowly around the room. At all the built-in furniture that couldn’t be used as bunkers. No removable cushions, no afghan thrown over the back of the sofa, no tabletop that wasn’t completely transparent. Even if there were blankets in the bedroom to hide beneath, I’d starve sooner or later. My gaze drifted toward the seamless glass walls that would let the daylight come pouring in, unobstructed and inescapable. Beyond that glass, the sky was still dark. It would be for a few hours yet, and the capstones of every building glowed like faintly burning embers on the tips of torches waiting to be ignited.

Oh fuck. “I don’t . . . I don’t get it.” I was sure he could hear my pounding heart and smell my fear, just as sure as I was that I couldn’t hear or smell his. “Why? Why does he want me dead?” Daniel glared at me. “You know, I suppose it shouldn’t shock me that you aren’t asking why the man would want his own son dead, but—” “I know your father,” I said flatly.

“His reputation precedes him, doesn’t it?” With another bitter laugh, he lifted his drink to his lips. “And here I’d hoped someone would sic you on him before he sent you after me.” He took another drink. “You always did say I was fatally optimistic.” “How did you know your father hired me?” “I have my ways. Besides, who else would? I don’t have that many enemies who’d be willing to risk their high and mighty positions by killing me. Not yet, anyway.” Daniel gave me a pointed look. “And more than anyone else, Dad knows your two biggest weaknesses: the sun, and his son.” I laughed. “You really do overestimate yourself.” “Do I? You’re here, aren’t you?” “For a very substantial fee, yes.” He shook his head and blew out a breath. “You’re completely fucking mercenary now, aren’t you? God, what the fuck happened to you, Liam? You really aren’t human anymore, are you?” “I haven’t been human as long as you’ve known me.” He set his jaw. “You know what I mean.” “I do,” I snapped, “and you’re on a pretty goddamned high horse for someone who destroyed

my life.” “I didn’t take your life,” he threw back. “No,” I growled. “No, you just took everything else.” He swung his glass in a frustrated arc, damn near unloading the martini in my face. “I was trying to help you.” “Help me?” I laughed. “Right. How exactly did you think it would help me to publicize the fact that I was fucking a goddamned human?” “I was trying to stop you from getting modified again,” he said, voice wavering slightly. His eyes darted above mine, and when his lip curled in disgust, I had no doubt he’d fixed his gaze on the implant on my temple. “Obviously that didn’t work.” “Uh, no. It didn’t. Quite the contrary, I’m afraid, but thanks.” Daniel flinched and stared into his drink, swirling it like a glass of wine. “You know I wasn’t there to out you that day.” “Road to hell, good intentions.” I waved a hand as flippantly as I could. “What did you really think would happen when you showed up like that? I mean, you may as well have tattooed ‘I’m fucking Liam’ on your forehead at that point, because why else would you

be so determined to keep me from getting something done?” He didn’t meet my eyes as he said, almost whispering, “I just didn’t . . .” He shook his head, but didn’t finish, instead bringing the martini to his lips. He grimaced as he swallowed it, like the vodka tasted as bitter as my words had. Not that it mattered what he intended, or what he’d thought would happen, or whether his heart was in the right place, and I found no small amount of satisfaction in the way he was wearing his guilty conscience on his sleeve. Resisting the urge to tap my fingers, or fidget, or do anything other than look right at him while he avoided my eyes, I let the silence linger. And while his conscience hopefully gnawed at him from the inside out, my grudge simmered just beneath the surface. What did you think would

happen to me, Daniel? Really? What the fuck did you think would happen? Once my family knew I had a human lover—especially a male one who vehemently opposed all mods—of course they disowned and disinherited me. Never mind that I

was still in the middle of my university studies, with no credentials or way to get any kind of job that would fill my empty bank account fast enough to keep me living in the Sky. Or that no one was willing to hire the disgraced son of Victor Lansing. So into the Gutter I went. Ironically, the realities of the Gutter had driven the mod-lust out of me, but unmodified assassins don’t live long. Regardless of how my views of the cybernetics corporations had evolved, I didn’t hesitate to do whatever it took to survive the profession that allowed me to survive the Gutter. That meant being ten steps ahead of anyone I might be asked to kill, and at least one step ahead of anyone who might want to kill me. It also meant getting the most cutting-edge, sometimes experimental mods on the black market, which had nearly killed me a few times. Nothing interrupts a clean getaway like an unscheduled grand mal seizure. But mods sharpened my senses, hastened my healing, reinforced my joints and ligaments. Between training, technology, and my natural advantages as a vampire, I was as good as unstoppable now. Only

one of my contracted marks still drew breath, and I meant to change that soon. “Tell me.” Daniel picked up the bottle and poured another splash of top shelf vodka into his mostly empty glass. “After you’re finished with me, are you going to take out your parents, too? They’re the ones who threw you into the Gutter, not me.” “Oh, I assure you,” I said. “I haven’t forgotten what they did. But you, you knew as well as I did what would happen. You just couldn’t let go of your damned obsession long enough to consider what you were—” Daniel slammed the bottle down on the bar. “For the last time, I was trying to help you. I’m sorry for what happened to you, but I won’t apologize for trying to help you. I didn’t have a choice.” I forced myself to look at him. Forced myself not to lunge across the bar and choke him, never mind shoot him. “You could have let me get the damned mod.” He threw up his hands. “They’re dangerous, Liam.” “Dangerous, hell!” I smacked the bar with my palm. “They don’t kill people, for God’s sake.” “Don’t they?”

Not sure what he was getting at, I said, “They’ve kept me alive.” “Have they, now?” He smirked. “Bang-up job they’ve done getting you out of here. Oh, and pity you still have that problem with the sun.” He gave a sarcastically wistful sigh and clicked his tongue. “If only Cybernetix would release that mod they’ve been keeping in their back pocket the last couple of years.” I stared at him. “What are you talking about?” “The UV mod. First one to release it will have vampires eating out of their hands.” He laughed humorlessly into his glass. “What? You didn’t honestly believe they were still working on that, did you?” “And yet no one’s been able to put one on the market?” “It’s not a matter of being able to,” he said. “Dad’s company has one now. So do InnerArmor and SkinTech. They’re tested, proven, tested again.” He shrugged. “They just won’t be released any time soon.” “What the hell are you talking about? The first company to release something like that would be

rolling in profits.” “In the short term, yes.” He nodded. “They’ll rake in the cash until all or most vampires have been modified, and then the demand will decrease. Right now, though, vampires are pouring millions upon millions into research and development, and they’ll keep pouring money in until they get that mod. The minute the product hits the market, the R&D money stops. Plus, every company in UV tech will take a massive hit. Window manufacturers, shit like that.” I watched him silently, struggling to process what he’d said and completely unable to convince myself he was lying. Daniel had never had the time or the inclination to dream up complex, convoluted bullshit like that. Sure, he’d changed over the years, but none of this sounded like something he’d pull out of his ass. Not without stumbling over his own lies, anyway. “All of those companies are right there with the vampires,” he said, “bleeding money into cybernetics. It would blow your goddamned mind if you knew the amount of cash flowing under the table into my dad’s wallet from companies who would

suffer.” I folded my arms across my chest. “And bribing your father and the other CEOs isn’t financially crippling for them?” “It is, but it’s less than they’d lose if they became obsolete.” Daniel gestured with his glass again. “No one’s fucking around with this mod or any mod like it. When the wealthiest segment of the population is opening up a financial jugular vein into your bank account, you do everything you can to keep that vein open. And anyone who tries to cut off that cash flow . . .” He paused, and his eyes shifted toward me. “I’m sure you heard about BotTech’s CEO.” My throat constricted. Daniel couldn’t possibly know about that job. Forcing my face and tone to stay neutral, I said, “Gibson? Yes, I heard about him.” Vague amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes as a knowing grin played at his lips. “Oh, I’m sure you have.” He brought his drink to his mouth, but lowered it instead of taking a sip. ”Question is, did you know he was days away from announcing the release of the next-generation nanobots? The ones that can reverse sun damage?” I blinked. The nanobots in my system could rebuild

an entire limb if the blood loss didn’t kill me first, but sun damage was much too fast for them. Daniel’s amusement faded. “My father and the other CEOs tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted. And then Gibson met a rather gruesome and”—he shot me a pointed look—“accidental death.” I swallowed hard a split second before I could tell myself not to tip my hand and let my nervousness show. “Yes, I know about that.” His snide amusement had resurfaced in his tone. “Apparently more than you, in this case. Anyway, the CEO went down, and his successor made sure the next-gen nanobots didn’t, if you’ll pardon the pun, see the light of day.” He set his shoulders back and glared at me. “And since I know all that, among other things, you’re here to make sure I shut the fuck up too.” I rubbed my forehead with two fingers. Harding, you double-crossing fuck. If I make it out of here

alive, so help me . . . Disgust leeched into Daniel’s voice. “So how many mods do you have now, anyway?” “I’m an assassin; I have more than you can imagine.” With a smirk, I added, “Want to see?”

“No, thanks.” He cradled the glass like a brandy snifter and gestured with it toward the door. “But I would love to see those mods get you out of here.”

You and me both. How the fuck did I let myself get cornered into this trap? Even in my eagerness to complete this job, I’d still taken my usual precautions, but . . . here I was. The glass encasing the penthouse could be broken with some effort, but my emergency escape plan hadn’t included any means of getting out via the building’s exterior. I had a rope and hook tucked into my briefcase, but I could only use it in the relative safety of the elevator shaft. An exterior exit was far too conspicuous, and the rope wasn’t long enough anyway. I’d be exposed, vulnerable, and recorded on camera for thirty stories. There was only one way out. “Look,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even and calm, “whatever differences we have, standing here arguing about them or discussing the cybernetics industry won’t keep either of us alive.” Daniel gave a sniff of laughter. “Says the man with a bullet in his pocket with my name on it?” “And since the man who paid me to come here will

still want you dead even if I don’t kill you, I suggest we work together and get out of here.” This time his laugher burst out on a cough. “Work together? Liam, you came here to kill me.” “You’re a dead man whether I pull the trigger or not,” I snapped. “So if you have any desire to live, I might be the lesser of two evils.” “Oh. Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve got odds in my favor all over the place, don’t I?” “So, would you rather I shot you? Or if I don’t, you’ll just wait until sunrise, watch me burn, and then wait for someone else to come finish the job?” “I wouldn’t mind watching you go down in flames,” he said as he picked up his martini. “Again?” I asked through clenched teeth. “The last time wasn’t enough for you? Or do you need to see it happen literally this time?” “I’ll take what I can get.” He shrugged and brought his glass to his lips. “Beggars can’t be choosers, especially when their hours are numbered.” “Do you want to die?” I asked, pressing my fingers to the bridge of my nose. “No, not at all.” His voice stayed unnervingly even

as he added, “But if my number’s up . . .” “Maybe it isn’t. Let’s cut the crap, work together, and get the fuck out of here. We can hash the rest of this shit out later.” Daniel snorted. “Like I’d trust you. Come on, if you could have gotten out of here, I’d already be dead. How do I know I won’t get a bullet through my skull once that door is open?” “It’s a risk you’ll have to take.” He glared at me. “Even if I did trust you, and I did want to leave here with you, there’s one small problem.” “And that is?” “I can’t leave.” He watched himself swirl his glass again. “If I could, I wouldn’t have waited for you to show up tonight.” “What do you mean, you can’t you leave?” “I mean I have a mod now too, and the second I step out into that hall”—he tilted his drink toward the penthouse door—“I’m a dead man.”

“What? Why? What mod?” Daniel’s lips thinned and he shifted his weight, but I couldn’t decide if he was impatient or uncomfortable. Or both. “I’m under house arrest,” he said. My stomach lurched, a comment about the hardship of being on house arrest in such luxurious surroundings stopping at the tip of my tongue. “For what?” “Embezzling. From my father’s company.” Embezzling? That wasn’t like Daniel. True he’d stop at virtually nothing to bring down the cybernetics industry, but unless he’d changed a hell of a lot in five years, stealing was far, far below him—and not a very effective means to his end, besides. He pursed his lips. “I didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re wondering.” “I didn’t think you did.” “Pity you weren’t the judge or the jury, then. Just

the executioner.” I couldn’t argue with the accusation, but it raised my hackles nonetheless. “If you didn’t do it, then—” “Dad set me up,” he spat. “The money was hidden in a few other accounts, and the prosecution insisted it couldn’t be recovered. In fact, I’m expected to pay it back. Well, unless I’m dead of course.” He laughed bitterly. “And I couldn’t very well tell the defense I knew where the money had gone because that would give away how I knew. Incidentally, do you know how much money it was?” I cocked my head. “I . . . no.” “$10 million.” He narrowed his eyes over the rim of his glass. “Enjoy it, Liam.” My lips parted. “I suppose it won’t do you much good, though. I mean, if you can find a way to blow that much in”—he glanced at his watch—“six hours or so, go right ahead.” “What kind of mod is it?” I asked. “The one they gave you?” His lips thinned into a straight line, and he leaned on the bar as he looked out at the night sky. “A Class C proximity enforcer.”

“For embezzlement?” He shrugged. “I took a lot of money from a powerful man.” “Yeah, but . . .” I shook my head. “Since when does theft warrant anything more than a Class A?” Daniel snorted. “You really think a little zap from a Class A would keep me here? Dad wanted to make damn sure I didn’t leave. A bullshit charge and a ProxEn were a reasonable way to keep me on lockdown until he could send you in to silence me completely.” “And the ProxEn,” I said. “You can’t hack into their network and fuck with its settings?” He shook his head. “The judicial system’s entire network is in its own highly classified programming language. I’ve been trying to crack it for years, but I can’t. And if I were to get in and mess this up? It’d release the poison.” I leaned my hip against the bar and drummed my fingers beside the vodka bottle. “How . . . how is your father getting away with all of this?” “He’s Richard goddamned Harding. How do you think he’s getting away with it?” “But plotting murders? Faking embezzlement?”

Daniel shrugged. “His cover stories were perfect. The money was siphoned out, then used to pay you. Dad knew your account would be virtually untraceable, and even if it was, he suspected you’d shunt the money into other accounts that would be untraceable. Once he paid you, the money was as good as gone, and there was no way to track it down.” Fuck. Harding was good. Really good. “It’s pocket change to him,” Daniel said. “And it means being able to manufacture evidence for bogus embezzling charges, have his son penned up on house arrest, and get rid of the two biggest thorns in his side at the same time.” “How . . .” I paused, rubbed at the ache forming behind my temples. “How do you know all of this?” “I have eyes and ears all over Cybernetix. That’s part of why Dad wants me gone. He’s afraid it’ll just take one command from me, and they’ll bring the corporation down from the inside out.” Oh really? “Is that a valid fear on his part?” “Not yet, no. But he knows I’m digging around for some things he doesn’t want getting out there.” Daniel sighed. “I knew he had some shady sons of

bitches sniffing around, guys who might catch on to the fact that I’d caught on to him, but I hoped I could get everything together to bring him down before they found out.” “Like what?” “Fraud. Exploitation. Code violations.” He ticked off the points on his fingers. “Accepting bribes. Misdirecting research and development funding. I’ve got rock solid evidence on mountains of shit that’ll get Cybernetix fined to within an inch of its life.” “Why haven’t you put it out there, then?” Daniel tapped his fingers on the neck of the vodka bottle like he was debating a refill. “Because I wanted to nail him for murder. I don’t want Dad getting a fucking slap on the wrist, a bunch of fines, and a stint in a comfortable rich man’s prison. I know he’s tied to Gibson’s murder, but at the time, I didn’t have the evidence. Not enough to get him charged, never mind convicted. Then I saw him shunting money into a hidden account, and there were rumblings about another hit, so I started pursuing that. By the time I figured out I was the target, I was picked up for embezzlement.”

“So you just sat back and waited for me to show up?” “Not quite,” he said. “Most of my files and information were confiscated by Dad’s private security force. None of it made it anywhere near the courtroom, but what Dad doesn’t realize is that I still have copies. More importantly, he doesn’t realize I have everything—bank records showing the transfers, recorded phone calls, bugged office conversations, you name it—linking him indisputably to my death. None of it’s admissible in court, but once it’s public via the internet, the media, and every possible channel of communication you can imagine, the Sky police won’t have a choice but to investigate him.” “And that will all go public . . . how?” “Every morning, I log into a remote file storage site with a specific login that only I know. If I miss my login, there’s a program specifically coded to release the pertinent files to about a dozen different people just itching to fuck Cybernetix up the ass.” Daniel drained his martini, then set the glass down with a single delicate clink that underscored the steadiness of his hand. “Once you pull the trigger,

the wheels start turning.” Holy shit. So that was why he’d been so calm and collected since I came through the door. He wasn’t just expecting this, he was embracing it with the unsettling cool of a goddamned suicide bomber. I could barely draw a breath through my tightening throat. “How . . . how did you know I was the hit man?” “Dad doesn’t know I’ve got wires all over his office, and he made the mistake of commenting to one of his cronies that with our history, you’d never be able to resist this job. But, just as some extra insurance against you getting sentimental, he’d offer you a substantial fee.” Daniel eyed me. “Can’t imagine who else he could have been talking about.” “And why does he want me dead?” I resisted the urge to fidget nervously, because I was not nervous. “Why me specifically?” “You’re just the beginning. After you, he’s going to systematically take out every assassin, hit man, killer, what have you, who’s been modified.“ Daniel sighed and walked toward the window. I watched the faint reflection of his face in the glass as he said, “You’re all a liability to him. To the entire industry.

Every time someone uses the advantage from a cybernetic enhancement to commit a crime, it gives the industry a bad name. And he’s had it out for one particular hit man who seems to be able to get anyone, anywhere.” He turned around. “I have to admit, I was more than a little surprised when I found out that hit man was you, but even without me or anyone else knowing who the fuck you were, word has been getting around that someone’s using mods to his advantage and taking out people in very, very high places.” He smirked. “Isn’t that lovely? You’ve had so goddamned many mods, the companies who make them want you dead.” “And you’re so fucking obsessed with shutting down the cybernetics industry, they want you dead.” “Oh, save it,” he snarled. “Look, even if my father wasn’t a goddamned murderer, everything his company does is sickening. It’s . . . making people inhuman. Instead of being victims of diseases and aging, you’re all slaves to machinery.” “We’re not slaves to it.” “Sure about that? How many mods do you have now, anyway?” “I need them for what I do.”

He set his jaw. “You need them for what you do, but you’re not a slave to them?” He smacked his palm to his forehead. “Oh. Right. How could you be? They let you make millions for a night’s work.” “Don’t judge me until you know what I do with the money,” I snapped. “Enlighten me, then.” “If you must know, there’s a serious lack of medical facilities for the working class. So I’m—” “You murder the rich and bandage the poor?” Daniel laughed. “My my, Liam. Your altruism is positively stunning.” He tipped an invisible hat. “Robin Hood with a gun. Adorable.” “Fuck you.” I pushed myself off the bar and crossed the distance between us until we were an arm’s length apart. “Tell me, after what happened, did you even try to help me when I was out on the streets? Or were you just happy that I didn’t get that one mod?” His cold exterior cracked with a shift of his eyes and the slightest slump in his shoulders. “What would you have had me do?” he breathed. “I was in the goddamned Gutter, Daniel! I spent

the first two years wondering if I was even going to survive from one day to the next. You couldn’t have done . . . Shit, done something? Tossed a twentydollar bill down the vents and hoped for the best? Anything? And as concerned as you are with the rich and privileged being modified out of their humanity, have you seen the conditions people work in down in the Gutter? Instead of being so worried about the wealthy, why don’t you do something about those who are treated like assembly line machinery?” Daniel shoved me back with both hands. “I am concerned about them. More than you can imagine. That’s one of the many, many facets of the mod movement that has the anti-mods up in arms, myself included, but I sure as fuck don’t see it stopping you from getting modified.” Before I could reply, he added, “And by the way, did you know there are mods coming out for the working class?” Really? It wasn’t like the elite to share their toys. Even lower-echelon businessmen, students, doctors —those grudgingly accepted into the Sky—were rarely able or allowed to obtain the most basic mods. “For the working class? Really?”

He nodded. “They’re designed to let people work longer hours with less fatigue.” “People won’t agree to getting mods that will just mean working more.” “They will if unmodified workers are laid off in droves while those with mods make higher wages than they did before.” Shit. He was right about that. “Those mods get released,” he said, his tone grim, “we’re looking at thousands of already starving people out of work.” Daniel was as privileged and elitist as I had been back in the day. Was he even capable of caring about what went on in the Gutter? He sure as hell hadn’t seemed to care about what went on with me down there. “Since when are you concerned about the people under the cloud?” ”Listen,” he said, the hostility evaporating from his tone. “A lot’s changed in five years. I was solely concerned about mods at first, I’ll admit that. But the more I’ve learned about what goes into making them, the more I have to stop what my dad and the other companies are doing.” I chewed my lip. “Maybe we’re more alike now

than we were then.” “I doubt that very much.” “Well, whether you believe it or not, there’s one thing I don’t think you can argue with.” I met his eyes. “If you die tonight, yes, you’ll get Cybernetix investigated, but the mod movement won’t end. The other companies will just take over where your father left off. Exploiting workers, modifying people until they’re, well . . .” I gestured at myself. “Until this is normal.” Daniel winced, disgust flickering across his face. “Do you want to bring your father down?” I asked. “Or do you want to end the cybernetic movement?” He avoided my eyes. “You’re more valuable to your cause if you’re still alive. Which means we need to find a way—any way —to get the fuck out of here.” “Except I can’t leave,” he snapped. “Then get me out of here. I’ll come back for you.” He laughed. “Oh, right. I believe that.” “How ironic, you not trusting me now when this whole thing started out because you broke my trust.” In a heartbeat, his laughter ceased and he stepped right up into my face, lips tight across his

teeth and his voice bordering on a growl. “Deep down, do you really believe what ultimately happened was my fault? Do you really fucking believe that?” He came closer, almost touching me, eyes narrowed. “You should know better than anyone that I’d never deliberately put you in that situation.” “You knew what my parents would do.” “I thought it was worth the risk. I thought—” His voice cracked, and with it, his furious exterior. “I was scared, all right? Every time I saw you, you had another mod. Just small ones, but then . . .” He shook his head. “It was just more, and more, and you kept talking about getting more invasive ones. Replacing joints with machinery. Neuro implants. That was . . . I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing, but this,” he gestured at me, nearly hitting my chest, “this was never what I wanted to happen to you.” I ground harsh words between my teeth. Before I could speak, Daniel closed his eyes and shook his head. “You know what, Liam?” He blew out a breath and took a step back. “You’re right. And I’m sorry for outing us and for not helping when your parents disinherited you. It’s been eating at me ever since,

but I’m . . . ” He threw up his hands. “Look, I had no idea where or how to find you. Everything went down so damn fast, and you were gone before I could do a damn thing about it. Yes, Liam, I tried.” His voice faltered again, and he cleared his throat. “I tried to find you. Word on the street was that you were dead, though, and that’s what I believed until my father started communicating with you about killing me. If I had known . . .” I swallowed hard and looked away. “But I never once thought about doing you harm. Even when I found out you’d accepted the contract on me, or when you showed up tonight. There isn’t enough money in the Sky to make me think about killing you.” His shoulders sagged, and his cool, calm façade crumbled a little more. He gestured toward the door like that simple motion took everything he had. “You want out of here? Say the word. I’ll get you out. I’ve said my piece, so . . .” “But, opening that would trigger your ProxEn.” He met and held my gaze. “I know.” My mouth went dry. I’d come here to kill him, but now I could barely move. I could barely look at him. Daniel not-so-casually hooked his thumbs in his

pockets. “I am curious, though. How did you turn into this? I mean, crime is one thing. But murder?” “Prostitution didn’t pay enough,” I said, even as the thought of my former profession twisted my gut into knots. That job bothered my conscience almost as much as my current one. Daniel’s eyes widened. “You . . . were a prostitute?” “Rules of the Gutter, my friend. Survival of the fittest and the most willing to do anything for money.” Daniel shuddered. “But now you’re a killer. How . . .?” “I wasn’t making enough as a prostitute, so I started stealing.” I folded my arms across my chest and met Daniel’s eyes in spite of wanting to look anywhere else. “Then I started stealing from bigger players. I got cocky, and I got caught by someone who didn’t think his security system could be breached.” “If it could be breached, then how did you get caught?” “He was right,” I said. “It couldn’t be. But I got further than anyone ever had, and I guess he was surprised. So he said he wouldn’t press charges if I

‘took care of something’ for him.” “So you killed someone.” I nodded. “To avoid jail time for theft.” “You’ve never seen the prisons in the Gutter, have you?” “I’ve never seen anything in the Gutter,” he admitted. “But I’ve heard the stories.” “Trust me, if you’d seen those prisons, you’d kill to stay out of them too. Did that job, and he told me he’d pay me for the next one.” Daniel drew back a little, his posture stiffening and his expression hardening, and I realized how my comment must have sounded. “I’m a predator, all right? Killing’s been in my nature ever since I converted, and what can I say? This line of work came easier than I usually care to admit, and I’m good at it. That doesn’t mean I’m proud of it.” “Wow. I . . .” He shook his head and laughed dryly. “I guess we’re both full of surprises.” His eyes narrowed. “Though I’d say what I did was rather predictable. You knew me. Can’t say I ever saw you turning into a cold-blooded killer.” “Oh, fuck you, Daniel. Why don’t you come down

off your goddamned high horse for a minute. I mean, do you have any idea what it’s like to be in hell and hold out hope that the person who fucked you over might give enough of a shit to at least try to save you?” “Probably feels a lot like finding out the man you still love is willing to fucking kill you.” I opened my mouth to reply, but the echo of his words hammered across my consciousness. “Wait, what did you say?” Daniel clenched his jaw and pushed his shoulders back. “I still love you. Even now. Knowing what you are and why you’re here. Happy?” He held his hands out to the sides. “So if you’re still going to kill me,” he said, his voice wavering, “would you just get it over with?” I stared at him. I couldn’t move. Speak. Breathe. The shine in his eyes, it . . . it was . . . Daniel never fucking cried. “I . . .” Can’t? Won’t? “I never set out to hurt you in any way,” Daniel said, his voice cracking. “I hope you of all people know that. You can’t ever have thought that I did what I did

because I wanted you to suffer. I just couldn’t sit back and watch you turn into a goddamned cyborg.” Anger surged to the surface, masking the ache that tried to rise in my throat. “And isn’t it poetic that you fucking drove me to getting more mods than I ever wanted?” “I drove you to that?” he snapped. He reached up and swiped at his eyes. “Bullshit. You were hooked just like any other mod junkie. You’re half machine. You’re a murderer. Vampire or not, are you even remotely human anymore?” “You tell me.” I forced him up against the thick glass wall, and kissed him.

Daniel shoved me back, his lips parted and his eyes wide. It hadn’t been a long kiss, lasting only the few seconds it took him to realize what had happened, but it left me breathless. Him too. “What the—” He shook his head, but I didn’t miss the sweep of his tongue across his lower lip. “Did you really think, after . . . Did—?” “Daniel, you—” He lunged at me, grabbed both sides of my neck, and kissed me. My balance faltered for a split second before a mod corrected it, but it was still a damned good excuse to hold onto him. Arms around him, I grabbed handfuls of his shirt just to keep him as close to me as possible. He tried to push me back, but didn’t break the kiss or embrace. Probably trying to guide me to somewhere else. His bed, if I knew him. But I held him against the glass, pinning him with my body. I

wasn’t ready to let him go. Not even for a second. Not yet. He wasn’t in any hurry either. His kiss was desperate. Angry. Passionate. He was breathless and unrelenting, dragging his fingers through my hair and gripping the back of my neck. The long, violent kiss awakened a deeply suppressed hunger, and my God, if Daniel only knew how much the mods enhanced how much I experienced him. His scent was more intense, like I was breathing in pure pheromones, pure sex. The heat of his body against mine, the coolness of his breath whispering across my nerve endings, the percussion of his blood rushing through his veins just beneath his skin, all amplified now. He overwhelmed me. I pressed my hips to his, dragging the breath out of his lungs with every kiss, and he ground his hips against mine. Even through our clothes, the closeness of his thick erection made me lightheaded. Much as I’d convinced myself all these years that I hated him, now I just . . . I just . . . Fuck, I just wanted him. I dipped my head to kiss his neck. With his pulse

so close to my lips, the ache below my belt wasn’t the only thing he aroused. I’d fed off him dozens of times, and I wanted to sink my teeth in as badly as I wanted to strip him down and fuck him. The salt of his skin was like a prelude to the metallic rush of blood—his blood—across my tongue. I ground my cock against his, groaning with the double desire to have him. To consume him. Daniel moaned and dug his fingers into my shoulders. He pulled in a breath like he meant to speak, but I kissed beneath his jaw, right where his blood pulsed beneath the surface, and only a soft whimper escaped his lips. “God, Daniel,” I murmured, dragging my lower lip along the side of his neck. “I want you so fucking bad.” “There’s—” His breath caught. He shivered, gripping my shoulders even tighter. Then, all at once, the words came: “We can get out of here.” I froze, then slowly lifted my head. “What?” Panting, Daniel closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the glass. “There might be a way out. For both of us, I mean.” I pulled back. “There is?”

“Yeah. It’s risky, but . . .” “In that case”—though it was the last thing my body wanted, I made myself step back—“I’m all ears.” He opened his eyes and nodded toward the door. “I can hack into the building’s security system and get us out of here. The only reason I haven’t tried is it’ll set off an alarm. Once that door opens, the whole building will get mobbed by security.” His eyes shifted back toward me. “And there’s a good chance it’s also tied to my implant. I open the door, the mod releases the toxin, I’m fucked.” “Okay, you mentioned that before. But how do we get both of us out of here?” Daniel inhaled slowly through his nose, then let out that breath just as slowly. He rolled his shoulders as if to mask a shudder. “I need you to get this mod out of my shoulder.” “Come again?” He was kidding. He had to be. “Any better ideas?” “Daniel, I’m . . .” I shook my head. “Not a surgeon. If I do something wrong, I’ll set it off and kill you.” He held my gaze. “Then I would suggest you be careful.” Goddamnit, he was completely serious.

“It’s our only shot at getting out of here alive,” he added, almost pleading. “There has to be another way.” “There isn’t. If there were, I would have done it myself and wouldn’t have been here waiting for you to show up.” We locked eyes once again. I mentally ran through a dozen alternative escape routes, and every damned one had a flaw with worse odds than what he was suggesting. Every one of them ended with either Daniel or both of us dead. My shoulders dropped as I forced out a breath. “All right. Turn around so I can take a look at it.” He turned around and pulled off his shirt. For a moment, I just stared at his broad shoulders and narrow waist. I should’ve been thinking about the damn mod and getting out of here, but oh, God, he was fucking beautiful. He always had been, but time had trimmed and toned him to lean, chiseled perfection. It didn’t help that I was already aroused as I ran my gaze over his body, or that the taste of his kiss was still on my tongue and the vibration of his pulse still lingered on my lips.

I shook my head, ignoring the urge to touch him.

Focus, Liam. Just above the lower edge of his right shoulder blade was a healing incision about three centimeters long. Beside that incision, a vague shadow beneath the skin revealed the mod’s location. “Hold still.” I toggled the nodule between my knuckles, then put my left hand on his arm to keep him steady. My vision darkened until only his silhouette was visible. With my right hand, I gestured to cue my optical mod to bring up a scanner that would zero in on the implant, then swept my fingers in midair a few times, scrolling through commands to the option for a schematic. A glowing blue line panned back and forth across the mod. After a moment, a three-dimensional diagram appeared in the center of my vision. With a series of quick, subtle motions, I rotated the image to examine all sides. It was two centimeters square and about half a centimeter thick. Like most mods, it had three small anchor nodules on the underside made of artificial tissue, which fused with flesh to hold it in place. “How long have you had it?” I asked.

“Five days.” Well, that was a plus. The anchor nodules wouldn’t have had time to heal completely. Enough that the mod’s removal wouldn’t be pleasant for Daniel, but it wouldn’t be impossible. ProxEns were, after all, intended to be temporary. A small node on the surface caught my attention. I zoomed in on it. Judicial network mods often had sensors in place to keep inmates from removing them. Lifting the skin off the mod triggered a timer that gave a surgeon only two to four minutes for deactivation before the implant delivered its shock or, in this case, toxin. “Shit,” I muttered. Daniel stiffened. “What?” “From the looks of it,” I said, masking a shudder, “I won’t have much time to get it out. Four minutes at best, but I don’t dare push it past two.” “But can you get it?” “Probably. But it’ll hurt like hell, especially since I’ll have to work fast.” He laughed dryly. “I didn’t expect any less.” I pursed my lips. The pain wasn’t my primary concern. The half dozen hair-thin pins along each

side of the mod could be a problem, though. They were extremely delicate, and the slightest disturbance could trigger one of the many antiremoval safeguards, every one of which ended with the toxin killing Daniel. I closed the display, and my vision returned to normal. “Before I start digging around in your shoulder, let’s figure out the rest of our plan.” Daniel nodded. He pulled on his shirt and faced me again, but then tensed. “How . . .” He bit his lip and alternated between holding my gaze and looking at the floor. “How, what?” “Okay, look. I . . . I want to trust you. I do. But . . .” Daniel met my eyes, and his expression hardened. He set his jaw and pushed his shoulders back just slightly. “Let’s face it, knowing why you’re here in the first place, how do I know you won’t blow my head off as soon as you’re out that door and in the clear?” “You—” I nearly choked on my own damned voice. “Seriously? After—” “You did come up here to kill me.” His tone was equal parts ice and uncertainty. “I would like to get out of this alive, and even after our little heart-to-

heart, I don’t think you can really hold it against me if I’m still not sure I trust you.” “So one minute you’re making out with me against the window,” I said, pointing at the glass like it was a guilty party in all this, “and the next you don’t trust me?” He folded his arms across his chest and glared at me. “To be fair, one minute you were ready to blow my head off, and the next you were making out with me against the window.” Okay. He had a point. “You know what? Fine. Let’s just quit playing games and get out of here.” Swearing and grumbling, I leaned down, withdrew the gun from my ankle holster, and offered it to him. “I do anything stupid? Fucking shoot me.” He glanced at the pistol, but his posture remained steely and defensive. “You really think I’m stupid enough to think a gun is a viable defense against a vampire? Especially a vampire who’s been modified as much as you have?” “Shoot me in the throat,” I said. “Even if it doesn’t kill me, the blood loss will slow me down enough to get you a damn good head start.” I raised my chin

and gestured at the exposed flesh. “And if you hit me right, the blood loss will kill me, so . . .” He eyed me skeptically, but didn’t move. “That’s an urban legend. Vampires don’t bleed to death.” “Believe what you will.” I shoved the weapon into his hand. “That’s all I can offer. Short of letting you shoot me, I can’t prove it’ll do anything.” He looked at the gun in his hand, turning it over and handling it with much more ease and comfort than I ever thought he would. Then his gaze shifted to me, and one eyebrow slowly rose. I put my hands out and took a half step back. “Daniel . . .” “Well, I suppose we could prove it, couldn’t we?” He raised the gun. Before he’d even leveled the barrel at me, he jumped, eyes darting toward the weapon I’d already drawn and aimed. “How did you —” “Ready to quit fucking around and get out of here?” I snarled. He met my eyes. “Oh, that makes me feel so much better.” He nodded toward our weapons. “I have a gun that probably won’t hurt you, and you can outdraw me. Great. Sign me the fuck up.”

I kept my gun trained on his chest. He kept his trained on mine. The barrel of his was unnervingly steady, and his stance was rock solid and unflinching. “We can do this all night if you want.” His words were carved in ice. “I don’t know if I can trust you, and pointing a gun at me isn’t going to help that.” “I seem to recall you drew first.” “And if you want me to trust you, I’d suggest you lower yours first.” “Or what?” “Or I test what you said about this thing being able to hurt you. At which point you’ll shoot me, and then you can sit here and wait for the sun to come up. Put yours down, and we can get the fuck out of here.” I released a slow breath. Someone had grown a pair over the last half a decade. Cautiously, slowly, I lowered my weapon. “All right. Now you put yours down.” He laughed. “I’ve seen how fast you can draw.” He gestured with his chin at my gun. “Put it all the way down.” Biting back my annoyance, I tucked the pistol back into its holster under my jacket and showed my

palms. “Better?” “Much.”

Bang! The muzzle flashed in the same instant excruciating pain ripped through my left shoulder. “What the—” My voice lodged in my throat as my hand went to the wound and I slumped against the bar. “You fucker!” “Huh.” Daniel sounded as amused as he was surprised. “I’ll be damned.” I blinked through the pain until my eyes focused. Daniel stared at the weapon in his hand, turning it over and over like he couldn’t believe it was a real motherfucking gun. “So bullets can slow vampires down,” he said, more amusement slipping into his voice. “Who knew?” “Thanks for your concern,” I muttered. He didn’t even look at me. “The nanobots will take care of you.” I ground my teeth as the bots in question burned their way to my wounded shoulder. “How do you know I even have them, idiot?” Daniel shrugged. “You’re not stupid, Liam. You

never were.” He ejected the magazine and furrowed his brow at it. Counting rounds, maybe. I couldn’t be sure. Then he slapped it back in and flicked his gaze toward me. “You wouldn’t have given me a gun unless you knew either the ammo wouldn’t do anything or you could heal quickly.” “Good thing I wasn’t bluffing then, isn’t it?” I said, struggling just to breathe through the pain. “I knew you weren’t.” “Then why the fuck did you still shoot me?” “Because I fucking well wanted to.” There wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice or expression as he added, “Just be glad I didn’t go for my first choice of targets.” “Should’ve had this conversation before I kissed you,” I muttered. “You still would have kissed me.” He slid the gun into his waistband. “So, now that I have that out of my system, let’s work on getting out of here.” “Daniel. You fucking shot me.” I looked at the blood on my hand, then showed him my palm. “What the—” “And you’ll be fine.” His eyes flicked toward me.

“Look, I’m asking you to carve something out of my shoulder and then help me out of the building. I need to know I have at least some defense against you if you decide to turn on me.” I pointed sharply at my bloody shoulder, which the nanobots were slowly rebuilding. “Satisfied?” “Very.” “I’m so thrilled. So, what do you know about the security in the building?” I looked around the penthouse. “I mean, I’m surprised your dad doesn’t have this place lined with cameras.” “Oh, he does.” Daniel shrugged. “I think he gave up trying to get them to work the third time I scrambled their signals.” He threw a quick glance around the room. “The cameras are hidden, but they won’t do him any good. As for security, Sky police are on call, and he has his own hired security on the premises.” “And they would be alerted to any problems, how?” He nodded toward the door. “That door opens, they’ll be on their way. Your access code was specifically programmed to put this penthouse on lockdown. Anyone opens the door now, everyone on

Dad’s security payroll is going to know about it.” “How much time will we have once the door opens?” “Five minutes max before the first wave gets here.” “What about cameras outside the room?” He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. “Every inch of the place is under constant surveillance.” “What about the insides of the elevator shafts?” “The elevators themselves are monitored, but no, not the shafts.” “That’s what I thought.” I shrugged out of my ruined jacket. “Can you disable the cameras?” I tossed my jacket over a chair, not really giving a fuck if it got blood on his furniture. “Like, the entire system?” “I can bring the whole thing down, but not for long. Might be able to buy us ten minutes. Fifteen tops.” As I inspected my healing wound through the bloody hole in my shirt, I mentally ran through the layout of this floor and all the emergency exit routes I’d considered. “Okay. That’ll give us enough time.” “All right, let me grab a few things before we go.” He brushed past me toward the living room area and picked up his laptop off the coffee table. He

disconnected a peripheral palm-sized computer, and as he pocketed the device, he said, “So I can get us out the door, and I can shut down the cameras. What do we do after that?” “Do you still have a car?” He nodded. “In the parking garage downstairs. Dad’s got some shit installed to disable it and, if it moves, track it, but I can get rid of that easily enough.” He paused. “But how do we get to the parking garage? Security will be all over the lobby and stairwells.” I chuckled. “I’ve got about seventeen different escape routes already plotted out, taking security’s presence into consideration every time.” And one

plan in particular that you would never agree to if you knew about it. “You just follow my lead and do as you’re told, and we’ll get out of here.” He fidgeted, eyeing me skeptically, but finally nodded. “Now let’s walk through this.” I reached for the mod on my temple and pressed a tiny switch just below my hairline. A projected schematic of the entire building appeared between us. Daniel’s lip curled, but he didn’t say anything. Now

wasn’t the time to get pissy about mods. “All right, here’s the plan.” I gestured at the visual mockup of the building. “We’re going to get out via the maintenance elevator shaft. That’ll get us as far as the first floor. Security will probably be closing in on the upper floors, and they’ll be waiting in both the lobby and the parking garage.” I glanced at him. “Still with me?” “So far, so good.” “I’ll take care of getting us to the parking garage. Where’s your car?” Daniel pointed to the northeast corner of the garage’s third level. I deactivated the mod, and the three-dimensional model disappeared. “How long will it take you to disengage anything your dad’s put on the car?” “I’d guess three minutes or less, assuming he has both the tracker and the ignition blocker on it.” “Can you do it in two?” “I can try. There’s also a security mechanism on the gate.” He held up the palm computer. “I can remotely override that while you’re driving.” “Perfect.”

“Where do we go after we get out of the garage?” “Once we lose anyone who’s following us? The Gutter.” Daniel gulped. “The . . . Gutter?” “Did you have someplace else in mind?” “I, um. No.” “The Gutter it is, then.” He took a deep breath and nodded. “Let me get some things off my computer before we go. Then you can—” he shuddered “—pull this thing out of my back, and we can get the fuck out of here.” He sat at his computer, brow furrowed and hands blurring over the keyboard. Then he stopped, hit one key, and sat back. “There. Everything’s backed up.” He disconnected a tiny peripheral—a hard drive, I guessed—and slipped it into his pocket with the palm device. Then he connected one more peripheral to the laptop, closed the screen, and nodded toward the door as he stood. “Let’s do this.” “What about the computer itself?” I nodded toward his laptop. “If someone finds it?” He shrugged. “I have everything I need on the flash drive.” He pointed over his shoulder at the computer. “That thing’s uploading a virus right now that’ll render

it completely useless. Besides, anyone at Cybernetix who’s competent enough to break into that computer already works for me. I’m not concerned.” He started toward the kitchenette. “As for this mod, we need a knife.” I stopped him with a hand on his arm. When he looked at me, I withdrew a small knife from a compartment on the side of my shoulder holster. “This is sharper than anything you’ll have here. It’ll cut cleaner.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he lost some color. A pang of sympathy tugged at my gut. I squeezed his arm. “I’ll do the best I can to keep the pain to a minimum.” Throwing a sheepish glance at my wounded shoulder, Daniel said, “We’re probably even where pain is concerned.” I couldn’t help a wry chuckle. “Yeah, something like that. Now let’s do this. Do you have any clean towels?” “Yeah. I . . .” He swallowed, then gestured toward the kitchenette. “In there.” “Go get them. And get a clean shirt too.” “A clean shirt? What—” His eyes darted toward

the crime scene he’d made out of my left shoulder. He paled a little more. “Right. A clean shirt and . . .” He waved his hand, shivered, and went to get everything I’d requested. “Ready?” I asked when I had what I needed. “Not even close.” He paused, eyes darting around the room. “Once you’re done, I’ll break into the security system and enable an access code. You’ll need to punch it in and open the door. Except somehow I doubt . . .” He closed his eyes and swallowed. “I doubt I’ll be quite steady on my feet by then.” “Then we should do this as close to the door as we can. And it would be best if you’re lying down, so . . .” I glanced around the apartment, then pointed at the leather couch beside the coffee table maybe three meters from the door. “That’ll do. Lie on that, on your stomach.” He did, and I sat beside him, my heart pounding with more than just nerves. Seeing him like this, with his shirtless back to me, brought countless memories rushing back to the surface. Daniel Harding was one beautiful man, and what I wouldn’t have given to remove a few more articles of clothing

right about now. “Come on, Liam,” he said through clenched teeth. “Just get this over with.” “Sorry.” I leaned in closer and splayed my fingers on his back, the mod between my thumb and forefinger. I pulled his skin tight, took a deep breath, and raised the knife. The first contact would undoubtedly make him jump, so I laid the flat of the blade on his skin. “Fuck.” He jerked away as much as his position allowed. I kept the blade against him until he relaxed. Sort of. Then, carefully and quickly, I made the first incision along one side of the mod. Daniel’s entire body tensed, his spine bowing, but my hand on his back kept him somewhat still. “Holy shit,” he gasped. “Just don’t move.” I quickly made the second cut, and Daniel again tried to squirm away. He probably swore and groaned, but my own heartbeat drowned him out as blood slid down his skin and pooled in the grooves between his muscles. My mouth watered. My head spun. I’d lost too much of my own blood to

be this close to his, but . . . “Motherfucker.” Daniel groaned as I pressed the blade to his skin for the third incision. “God, hurry up, Liam.” “I’m trying.” I held the skin tight, forced myself to concentrate, to ignore my hunger and the warm blood gathering in the crook of my index finger, and made the third cut. He grunted, but this time didn’t form any words. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck, and his muscles quivered. I slipped the blade under the flap of skin, separating it from fascia as carefully as I could, struggling not to notice, stare at, crave his flowing blood. The strangled sounds he made may have been a few choice curses, but I was too focused on what I was doing to take heed. Swallowing hard, I pressed a towel to his skin to soak up some of the blood—God, his blood always tasted like heaven—so I could see what I was doing. Then, with the blade, I lifted the skin and peeled it back to reveal the device. A tiny yellow diode suddenly came to life, blinking in time with the seconds slipping past. My heart pounded. Every blink was one second closer to this thing deploying

whether I tried to pull it free or not. No turning back now unless I wanted Daniel dead. Daniel groaned again, sweat rolling down his shaking shoulders. “I’m getting there,” I murmured, not sure who I was talking to. I inched my hand closer to the implant, but didn’t touch it yet. I’d only get one chance. Even the slightest accidental jostle could trigger the security mechanism. Damn it, that retractable claw mod I’d turned down a few months ago—when the fuck would I need something like that?—would have been really convenient right now. “Liam.” Daniel’s voice was taut, forced through clenched teeth. “Quit fucking around. Get it out.” “I’m working on it. Stay absolutely still.” “I will,” he growled. “Just . . . fuck, just do it.” “I’m working on it.” The only shot I had was to get the tip of the blade beneath the device, then shove it under and pry the mod off in a single, quick motion. Preferably without jamming the knife into Daniel or taking a chunk of flesh with it. I put my hand on his sweat-slicked shoulder to

steady us both. Then, holding my breath and moving as carefully as I could, I lined up the blade with the lower edge of the mod. “This is going to hurt.” His voice trembled as badly as his shoulders as he said, “It already hurts.” “I know.” I slid the knife as close as I could to the mod without touching it. “Whatever you do, do not move.” Without giving him a chance to get any more worked up or preemptively flinch, I forced the knife under the device and yanked it back, prying the mod free. Daniel roared and lurched beneath me. The mod clattered to the floor. I quickly grabbed a towel and pressed it against the bloody wound. He shook violently, alternately trying to get out from under me and force me off him. “Daniel,” I said. “Daniel, it’s done. The mod’s out.” He released a breath, but still struggled feebly against me. “I’m going to close the wound.” I kept my voice as even as I could. Fuck, the scent of his blood. The anticipation of the taste. The wet heat saturating the

towel in my hand. I swallowed. “Daniel, listen to me. Hold. Still.” He took a breath, held it, then exhaled slowly. “Hurry up,” he whimpered. “Please.” “It only takes a few seconds.” “I know. We’ve done this before.” Head spinning, I closed my eyes and exhaled. We had. Many times. And this would be so, so much safer for him if I’d never tasted his blood before. Safer still if I hadn’t lost so much of my own earlier. There was no other choice, though, so I pushed the flap of skin back over the wound, then leaned down and closed my mouth over it. Daniel jumped, sucking in a sharp breath. His blood on my tongue sent shivers through me, raising goosebumps all the way up and down my spine. Calling on every ounce of restraint I had, I gently ran the tip of my tongue along the three incisions. The skin fused back together, cutting off the metallic sweetness. My every instinct commanded me to tear deeper into his flesh, to encourage the blood to flow and drink until the dizziness had passed. But I was stronger than my instincts, damn it.

Pulling in a slow, ragged breath, I lifted myself away from him and wiped my lips with the back of my hand, pausing to catch a stray bead of blood off my finger with the tip of my tongue. “The door,” I said as I toweled excess blood off his back with an unsteady hand. The smell and lingering aftertaste of Daniel’s blood made the expanding stain on the towel more than a little tempting. No, no time to think about feeding right now. Another little taste when I was this hungry wouldn’t help my ability to resist sinking my teeth into Daniel again, so I made myself toss the saturated towel aside. “Come on, we don’t have much time.” “Fucking. Shit.” Daniel shuddered. “Let me catch my—” “No time. Open it.” Still cursing under his breath, Daniel pushed himself up onto shaking forearms and picked up the palm computer. With hands as unsteady as mine, he swept his fingers over the keypad. “Go to the door,” he said, hands still flying across the keys. “The code won’t stay enabled for long.” I got up, pausing when my head spun, then went to the door.

Something beeped. “Enter this code. Quickly.” He rattled off a sevendigit number, which I punched into the keypad beside the door. I was certain it would come back unrecognized, but Daniel knew what he was doing.

Access Key Accepted. The door slid open. Daniel started to sit up, but faltered. “Hang on,” I said. “Don’t move yet.” I shoved my briefcase into the open doorway to keep the door from closing again, then went to Daniel’s side and put a hand on his arm to steady him. “Get up slowly. You lost a fair amount of blood.” “No shit,” he muttered, and with a little help, eased himself upright. Once he was sitting, he closed his eyes and drew a few deep breaths. “You all right?” Daniel was quiet for a moment. His skin was still pale and slick with sweat, but after a full minute, he opened his eyes and nodded. “I’m fine.” He reached down and picked up his shirt. “Now let’s get out of here.”

Freedom had never tasted as sweet as it did when we stepped through that door. Even though we were far from out of the woods, at least we were out of this goddamned penthouse. Out in the hall, Daniel leaned against the wall and furrowed his brow over the palm computer. His fingers moved quickly across the keypad, and after a moment and a little bit of cursing, he said, “Okay. Cameras are down.” “This way.” I led him to the maintenance elevator and opened the doors via the manual override. Then I turned on the emergency lights lining the inside of the shaft. Daniel peered down the dimly lit shaft as I knelt and popped the latch on the briefcase. “Um, Liam?” “Hmm?” I looked up from pulling the coil of climbing rope and the grappling hook out of the briefcase. His gaze darted to the equipment, then back to the elevator shaft, and as his eyes widened, I

swore I heard the Oh shit! going through his head from here. “I’m actually afraid to hear the answer,” he said. “But what exactly are we doing?” I stood, rope in hand. “Ever done any rappelling?” He raised an eyebrow. “Um, no.” “Then pay attention,” I said. “Because if you fuck up, you’ll break your neck or hang yourself.” “Well. That’s encouraging.” I shrugged. “Just being realistic. This won’t be pleasant with your shoulder either. The cuts are sealed, but the damage won’t heal overnight.” “Great,” he muttered. “Something to be said for nanobots.” I rolled my own mostly-healed shoulder. He glared at me. “Just tell me what the fuck we’re doing.” “The rope is long enough to go down five or six floors at a time,” I said. “I’ll go first, then steady the rope for you.” “So we get to leapfrog the whole way down,” he said dryly. “The whole way down a fucking elevator shaft.” “Not technically leapfrogging, but now’s not the

time for semantics. So unless you have any better—” “Fine, fine.” He waved a hand. “How do I do this?” “It’s going to be a crash course, so—” “Liam. For fuck’s sake.” He exhaled hard. “Could you pick a better description? Please?” “Whatever.” I gestured with the coil. “Pay attention.” I explained the steps, starting with looping the rope under my right thigh, around my right side, and over my left shoulder. I kept things as simple as I could while still being thorough; we didn’t have a lot of time, but this wasn’t easy to learn. It was also dangerous as all hell, and most of the errors that could kill him were exactly the kinds of errors he might make now: the fuck-ups of a novice. “Ready?” I asked. “Um, no.” We stepped into the elevator shaft anyway, balancing on the narrow horizontal beams. “Watch yourself,” I said. “Closing the door.” I eased the heavy door shut, and it banged into place, sealing us in as the sound echoed down the thirtystory shaft. As I attached the grappling hook to the beam

above me, Daniel craned his neck, looking over his head and then down into the vertical void below us. He might have made a strangled, terrified sound. What he couldn’t hide, though, was the color draining from his face as he turned back toward the wall. He closed his eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. As I put the rope under my thigh and started to draw it up over my right hip, I said, “Don’t look down, idiot.” He flipped me off, but didn’t speak. “I’m serious.” I pulled the rope over my shoulder and tugged it, making sure everything was in place. “You’ll just give yourself vertigo.” He muttered something I couldn’t understand, then eyed where the rope looped under my leg a few inches from my crotch. “That looks like it could raise a hell of a rope burn if you move wrong.” “Yep. Moral of the story?” I tugged the rope again. “Don’t move wrong.” He rolled his eyes. “You’d make a great teacher, you know that?” “Yeah, I’ll look into that when we get to the bottom.” I tested the rope one last time, then leaned back.

His face paled a little more, probably at the realization I was leaning out over the empty space below, and that he’d have to do the same in a minute. “I’m going about three stories down,” I said. “Then you’ll join me. We’ll do this three stories at a time until I’m sure you’ve got it.” “That’ll take forever.” “Well,” I said. “Then we’d better hope you get the hang of it quickly and no one thinks to look for us in here.” “Great.” Whatever he said after that, I didn’t hear, because I started down the wall. Under normal circumstances, I could make it from top to bottom in no time flat, but I moved slowly now. I didn’t want Daniel to think he’d need to go quickly. Of course, we did need to move quickly, but the time we’d save with speed would be negated if he broke his neck thirty stories down. As promised, I stopped after three floors. I was glad Daniel couldn’t hear the way my heart thundered as I watched him loop the rope under his leg and around his side. I held the end of the rope taut for him, silently begging him to have paid close

attention. There were so many ways this could go wrong. So many ways. He gingerly leaned back over the void. After a moment that probably seemed longer to me than it really was, he took the first jump. Paused. Took another. After a couple of small, cautious leaps, he let a little more rope slide through and made it past the first story. The second. Daniel’s foot clipped one of the horizontal beams, and my blood turned cold when he overcorrected. I sucked in a breath, panic surging through my veins as he tried to find a foothold, teetered slightly, and— to my horror—lost his grip on the rope. He dropped. With a split second to react, I grabbed onto a vertical support for balance and reached for him as he fell past me. I managed to get my arm around his waist, but misjudged, well, everything. My foot slipped off the beam, and my hand slid down the support. I fell to my knee, keeping a tenuous hold on the support and an even less steady one on him. We both stopped. He dangled over the elevator shaft, and I gritted my teeth as I fought to keep us both from falling. He grasped the front of my shirt in

one hand and my supporting arm in the other, his gaze darting toward the void below us. My shoulder burned as his weight pulled at tissue still under repair. I sucked in a breath, trying to ignore the pain and keep from giving Daniel a reason to panic while I worked out exactly how to get us out of this. The rope dangled uselessly a meter and a half to my left, and when I tried to pull us up, his grip on my arm and shirt restricted my range of motion. I couldn’t move, especially not without ripping my wound open again and risking dropping him. “Daniel.” I swallowed. “Look at me. Look in my eyes.” When he did, I said, “Listen to me. We’re going to go down until you can feel the next beam with your feet. It’ll be easier and safer than trying to pull us both up.” He nodded. I adjusted the arm I had around him. “I’m going to get us out of this. But I need you to let go.” “What? Let go?” I nodded slowly. “I can’t move like this.” He stared up at me, fear written all over his expression, from his upraised eyebrows to his

nervous gulp. “I won’t let you fall. You have to trust me.” Eyes locked on mine, he stayed frozen for a few seconds. Finally, he loosened his grip on my shirt. After another moment, he released my arm. Without his death grip, I had more range of motion. Ignoring the burning in my shoulder as nanobots scrambled to repair tearing flesh, I eased myself over the beam and carefully, an inch at a time, lowered us both. Daniel kept his eyes screwed shut and his lips in a tight, terrified grimace. “Breathe, Daniel,” I said softly. “Won’t do us any good if you pass out.” He shivered and released his breath. “Feel around for the beam,” I said. “Tell me when you—” “There.” His eyes opened and met mine. “I can—” He furrowed his brow slightly. “Let me down another couple of inches.” I lowered him a little farther, and his weight eased as his feet found the beam. “Grab onto that support.” I nodded to his left. When he had a grip on that, I released him, rolling my

shoulder a few times as the nanobots did their job. Once I was sure my muscles had fused back together enough to support me, I inched across the beam to grab the rope. Glancing back at Daniel, I said, “Watch your head.” Then I jerked the rope like I was cracking a bullwhip, and the grappling hook came loose. I caught it before it dropped past me, hooked it just above my head, maneuvered the rope around me like I’d done before, and started down. I paused beside him. “You looked like you had it together before you fell. Think you can handle doing it again?” “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” he croaked. “Not really, no.” I inclined my head. “But I don’t want you panicking mid-jump.” “I’ll be all right.” “You sure?” “Just go,” he said. “Let’s do this before I have time to think about how not ready for it I am.” I couldn’t really argue with that. Before I pushed off, though, I said, “If you lose your balance again or miss a foothold, remember you have the rope. Until your feet are planted firmly on something solid at the

bottom, the rope is your support. You have to trust it. Do not let go of the rope until you have your feet on the ground or a ledge. Got it?” He nodded. “See you down below.” I pushed off and descended the next few floors. We both made it the rest of the way without incident, but every minute we spent inching down the elevator shaft sent another drop of cold sweat down the back of my neck. It was only a matter of time before security figured out where we were. Daniel landed gently on top of the elevator car. As he took off the rope, he said, “Now what?” “Now, we get the fuck out of here.” I pulled the grappling hook down and started coiling the rope around my hand and elbow. “Are the cameras back online?” He pulled out the palm computer while I looped the rope over my shoulder. “Yeah, they’re back online. And there’s a camera inside the elevator car.” “I know.” I held out my hand. “Give me the computer.” “What?”

“Part of my plan,” I said. “Trust me.” He hesitated, but after a moment, he put the device in my outstretched hand. “Be careful with it, would you?” “Of course.” I slid it into my pocket, then leaned down and opened the access hatch. “Smile. We’re about to be on television.” Without waiting for a response, I dropped through the opening. Once I was on my feet and out of Daniel’s way, I reached for my ankle holster and withdrew one of my guns. He landed beside me and glanced, wide-eyed, at the weapon in my hand. “What next?” “We get out of here.” I pushed the “door open” button, and the freight door creaked and squealed. “What about the cameras? As soon as we step out there, we’ll be—” He stopped abruptly when I pointed my pistol straight at his head. “What the . . .!” His eyes darted over his right shoulder, probably at the camera in the corner of the elevator. “Liam, what are you doing?” “Walk.” I gestured with the gun toward the open doorway. “Put your hands behind your head and walk.”

Fury replaced fear in his tight lips and narrowed eyes. “You son of a bitch.” “Just do it.” I inclined my head and kept my voice low, barely even moving my lips as I added, “Trust me.” His eyebrows jumped. “Are you—” “Now.” Swearing under his breath, Daniel laced his fingers behind his head. “What the fuck are you doing?” “This from the man who pulled the trigger upstairs.” I gestured with the gun. “Now move.” He stepped out into the hall ahead of me. “Go left,” I said. He obeyed, and I followed. “When we’re in the garage and I tell you to,” I said as quietly as I could, “Run for the car.” “Where will you be?” “Right behind you.” “With or without the gun to my head?” “Just walk.” Turning his head just slightly, he said, “Would it kill you to give me a little warning the next time your plan

involves something like this?” “I’ll keep it in mind.” “Asshole.” We walked in silence to the door marked Lobby. This was it. I doubted Harding’s security knew what was really going on, that Daniel was supposed to die too, but I didn’t like banking on it. There was no turning back anyway. By now, security had seen us on no fewer than half a dozen cameras. “Open the door,” I said, pulling Daniel’s palm computer out of my pocket. “Are you fucking—” “Don’t argue with me. I know what I’m doing.” I hope. He reached for the door with a shaking hand. When he pushed it open, dozens of Harding’s blackclad security officers were waiting for us, the barrel of every weapon fixed on me. Their conventional ammunition wouldn’t hurt me, but a stray bullet could take Daniel down, and I wasn’t interested in seeing how many body-armored security guards it would take to overpower me. “Lower your weapons,” I barked. “Anyone takes a shot or makes a move, Harding’s kid is dead.”

Slowly, I raised my other hand and showed the palm computer. “And the whole fucking place goes up.” Nervous glances flicked between the armed men. “Now,” I snarled. “Weapons on the ground unless you all want a pile of rubble on your damned heads.” No one moved. I pressed the gun against the back of Daniel’s head, just below his interlaced hands. “I’m not fucking around. There are six A-level explosives inside the maintenance elevator shaft.” I held the palm computer up higher. “One button, boys. And don’t bother trying to kill me: the bombs are all wired into my mods, and the second my heart stops, the whole place comes down.” Raised eyebrows all around said they didn’t know whether or not I was bluffing. More exchanged glances. Nervous murmurs. Still, no one moved. “He’s not kidding.” Daniel’s voice shook enough that the fear may well have been genuine. “For fuck’s sake, do what he says.” One by one, barrels pointed toward the floor. “Lay them down,” I ordered. “All of them. Slowly.” One gun clicked on the floor. Then another. Then the rest.

“Hands behind your heads.” They all obeyed. “Who’s in charge?” I asked. “I am.” A square-jawed officer stepped forward. “I’m in charge.” I gestured with the palm computer. “Radio down to any men in the parking garage. I want them all up here and unarmed in the next two minutes.” The officer hesitated, but only for a second. “All units to the lobby,” he said into his radio, his eyes still locked on me. “Unarmed. Repeat, return to the lobby unarmed. Do you copy? Over.” The radio crackled to life. “I’m sorry, what?” “You heard me,” the officer said, still holding my gaze. “Return to the lobby unarmed. Do you copy? Over.” Fifteen long seconds of silence. The officer fidgeted, alternately eyeing the computer in my hand and the radio in his own. Behind me, a boot creaked and a sleeve whispered. I snapped toward the sound and fired. A heartbeat later, the wannabe hero cried out and drew his hand back, clutching it against his chest as blood seeped between his fingers.

“Anyone else?” I growled, pressing the gun to Daniel’s head again. He flinched at the touch of the hot metal and sucked in a sharp breath, so I surreptitiously drew the barrel back, just enough to keep from burning his skin. No one moved. I looked at the one who’d radioed the others. “Are they going to keep fucking around down there?” He swallowed. “Unit twelve, you received an order. Do you copy? Over.” Silence. Then, “We copy. On our way up. Over.” “Be advised,” he said. “There is the threat of an explosive device. Do not attempt a confrontation. Repeat, do not attempt a confrontation. Over.” “Copy that. Over.” Tense silence lingered in the lobby. After a full minute, the door to the parking garage stairwell opened, and another dozen or so officers filed in, hands up as ordered. At my command, they knelt along the wall. My heart raced, but I dared not show a hint of nerves. I kept the gun steady behind Daniel’s head, and didn’t let my other hand shake.

No one in this room needed to know it made me nervous as fuck that this part was going too smoothly. Once we had a clear path to the stairwell, Daniel and I continued through the lobby. I kept my senses focused on any indication of movement—the squeak of a boot, the scuff of fabric over fabric, a catch of breath—but every man stayed still. No one spoke. No one moved. No one made a sound except the gasping, groaning man I’d shot. Daniel pushed the door open. At the bottom of the stairs, I held my gun out again, sweeping the apparently deserted parking garage. The whole place was silent, not even the slightest sound or movement. Once I was certain we were alone—this is too easy, way too easy—I gestured at Daniel. “Let’s go.” We stayed low and hurried across the garage to where Daniel had parked his car. “Motherfucker,” Daniel muttered. “What? What’s wrong?” “He’s got a fucking boot on the tire. That’ll take some time to break through.” “We don’t have ‘some time.’” I came around to that

side of the car, glaring at the red metal clamp on the front wheel. “You get on the ignition blocker and the tracker. I’ll do what I can with this.” I handed him his palm computer, and while he went to work on the electronics, I knelt beside the tire and started on the wheel boot. It was a simple lock, and I always carried lock picks, but we didn’t have time for this. For any of it. As I picked the lock, I looked around the garage, watching for feet under cars and listening for movement. So far, so good. The boot came loose, and I kicked it away from the wheel so we wouldn’t run it over on the way out. “Done,” I said. “How are you coming?” “Almost . . .” He cursed under his breath a few times. “Almost done.” “Hurry up.” He muttered some more profanity. Finally, about the time I was sure he’d taken far too long, he said, “Yes! Done.” Metal clattered, and a second later, Daniel slammed the hood of the car. “Let’s go.” From a few meters to my left, the whisper-faint scuff of a boot on pavement turned my head. I looked past Daniel just in time to see three officers raise

their guns. Time slowed down. My heart sped up. Three fingers curled around three triggers, and I lunged for Daniel. I grabbed his arm and threw him to the pavement and out of the line of fire. With my other hand, I drew my weapon and opened fire in the same instant they shot back. All three men dropped, but not before searing pain just below my ribs and again above my hip doubled me over. Clutching my stomach, I swept my gun from left to right, searching for any others. We were alone. The other guards hadn’t—

Oh God . . . Oh fuck . . . I crumpled to my knees. Hot liquid flowed between my fingers. Nanobots tore through me from all directions, homing in on the core of pure white-fire pain. What the hell? I withdrew one hand, and sure enough, it was covered with blood. Since when did . . . how the . . . Even if Harding had taken out an illegal hit on his own son, I hadn’t anticipated him outfitting his security force with banned ammunition. “Liam!” Daniel dropped beside me. “Are you all

right?” I held up one shaking hand, and he sucked in a breath at the sight of blood dripping off my fingers and palm. “Shit,” he muttered. “Can you move?” “Not very— Oh, God,” I groaned, falling forward onto one bloody hand and clutching my stomach with the other. “We don’t have a choice. Come on.” He pulled my arm around his shoulders and hauled me to my feet. I might have groaned again, but I didn’t even know if I’d managed to draw a breath over the blinding inferno in my gut. Daniel shoved me into the backseat of his car. My vision clouded. No matter how much I struggled to maintain situational awareness, all I could think of was pain. The nanobots swarmed the wounds, and I couldn’t tell where the injury ended and the burning of their repairs began. My head spun. I was losing blood too fast. Even if the nanobots repaired the wounds and stopped the bleeding before this killed me, the damage was done. I’d be lucky if I could stand, never mind make

an escape into the Gutter, without feeding and recovering first. Assuming I recovered at all. And Daniel had already lost a lot of blood, too. Too much to risk giving any up to a wounded vampire. Shit. Shit. Shit. Squealing tires dragged me back into semiawareness. Daniel skidded around a curve. Lights flickered past the windows. He held his palm computer in one hand, the wheel in the other, cursing under his breath as he tried to both drive and punch in numbers. There was blood—my blood, I hoped—on his sleeve and his hands, leaving deep crimson marks wherever he touched the wheel and the keypad. He glanced at me. “Stay with me, Liam. You die on me, there’s going to be hell to pay.” I’d have laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. Or if his voice hadn’t shaken so badly. I’m sorry, Daniel. I’m

sorry. Please, God, don’t let me get him killed . . . “Oh, fuck, Liam.” He looked over his shoulder again. “Vampires can’t really bleed to death, can they?” Yes, they could. They could, and I was.

“Liam, please tell me this can’t kill you.” “It’ll slow me down.” I moistened my dry lips. “That can kill us both.” He cursed. From the outskirts of my senses—what little I was aware of besides pain and my rapidly waning consciousness—came the rumble of engines and the scream of sirens. Tires squealed. Daniel jerked the wheel one way, then the other, each movement sending fresh waves of nauseating agony through me. I tried to brace myself on the door and the seat, but everything I touched was slick with blood. Finally I gave up on steadying myself and just pressed my hands into the wounds, struggling to staunch the bleeding. Every inch of tissue was on fire as nanobots worked, but the blood still flowed. Too much, too fast. My grasp on consciousness slipped. The car swerved violently to one side. A sharp impact dragged a groan out of me and a string of

curses out of Daniel. Metal screeched, tires squealed, and the car jerked into motion. “Show them the computer,” I slurred. “They won’t fuck around if they think you can still . . . can still bring the place down.” He gripped the wheel in one hand and pulled the computer out with the other. He held it up. Then he rolled down the driver’s side window and held his hand out. My vision turned black. Returned to clarity. Turned black again. Speed. Just speed. The weightlessness of unobstructed forward motion, coupled with dizzying semi-consciousness. I didn’t hear any other engines or tires. “Talk to me, Liam.” Daniel’s voice shook. “Still with me?” “Think so.” “I lost them for now,” he said. “Where do I go?” I licked my lips. “Just . . . somewhere we can stop. And get . . .” I paused, lost in another wave of pain. I’d had a plan. I’d played this all the way out. What was the next step? “Help me out here,” Daniel pleaded.

“Find a place to ditch the car. Near a manhole cover.” “A manhole cover?” Before I could reply, he added, “Right, you know what you’re doing.” I faded in and out. After a while—minutes? I couldn’t say—the car stopped. “Where are we?” My voice sounded far away. From even farther away, Daniel said, “Fuck if I know. Close to a manhole cover.” “Good. Help me up.” “Should you be moving like—” “Not gonna sit here ’til someone finishes me off. Help me.” He sat me up. The world lurched and spun, but I forced myself to get out of the car and onto my feet. “Open the manhole,” I said. Daniel knelt beside it. He slipped his fingers under the edges and grunted quietly as he lifted the heavy iron disc. How the fuck I was going to manage a climb down, I didn’t know, but until I came up with a better idea, this would have to do. “Are you sure you can do this?” Daniel asked as he guided me to the ladder.

“No.” I half stumbled onto the top rung, still hunched over. “But no other choice.” Daniel might have said something after that, but I didn’t hear him over the blood pounding in my ears. Or the deafening roar of the giant fans below the streets, covered with iron grates, keeping the Gutter’s smog shoved down where it belonged. I stumbled off the bottom rung and tried to get out of the way so Daniel could come down, but the world suddenly shifted beneath my feet. My knees buckled, and I collapsed on the diamond plate floor. “Liam!” Daniel’s feet clanged beside me, and in an instant, he was on his knees next to me. “Fuck,” I groaned. Black spots encroached on my field of vision. My limbs felt heavy and liquefied, and everything spun around me as nausea crept up my throat. The worst of the bleeding had stopped, and the nanobots were still hard at work, but they couldn’t replace blood anywhere near as fast as I was losing it. There was only one way to make up for that, but dare I risk slowing us both down even more? Daniel helped me onto my back. The diamond plate was cold through my shirt, but a much deeper chill had my teeth chattering and my body shaking.

Even Daniel’s hand in mine couldn’t get warmth into my fingers or under my skin. “Tell me what to do.” He squeezed my hand. “How do I get us out of this?” Fuck. Fuck, I didn’t know. How did we get out of this? Or, I thought with a chill that ran the length of my spine, could I get out of this? I looked up at him. I’d gone to the Sky to take him out, but now there was no way in hell I’d let him die tonight. Even if I didn’t make it myself. I gripped his hand and held it close to my chest. “If I can’t keep going, get out of here. You’re not safe in the Sky.” Fear carved deep crevices between his eyebrows. “And I’m safe in the Gutter?” “No. No one is. But you’re safer there than up here.” “Liam, I don’t think you understand.” He squeezed my hand again and leaned down so we were almost eye to eye. “I can’t survive down there without you. There’s a contract out on my head, and I’ve never even set foot below the Sky.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed. I’d been illprepared, and the Gutter had nearly eaten me alive. I couldn’t turn it loose on him. I also couldn’t stand. Staying conscious was about the extent of my physical capacity. I moistened dry lips. “Find someone. Anyone. I’ve gotta feed.” Abruptly, Daniel released my hand. I opened my eyes, and startled when I realized he was shoving his sleeve up. “Daniel, you’ve already lost too much blood, I—” “Shut up.” He pushed his sleeve to the elbow. “I’m the only one here, and I’m not leaving you.” “Won’t do us any good if we’re both too weak to move.” He offered up his wrist. “Then don’t take too much.” I glanced at the bare skin, then met his eyes. He’d let me feed countless times when we’d been together; it was one of the more intimate things we’d shared. Under these circumstances, I didn’t know if revisiting that now was welcome or wrong. “I need you,” he whispered, pushing his arm toward me. “Please.”

I swallowed. Welcome or not, I didn’t have a choice. “Help me sit up.” He slid his arm under my shoulders. Lying on my back was agony, but sitting up was nothing short of hell. Pain and blood loss conspired to loosen my grasp on consciousness, and my vision clouded as the world listed beneath me. Everything between my hips and ribcage burned and itched as nanobots fused tissue back together and rebuilt damaged flesh. Now that I was vertical, blood rushed out of my head and the world went black. “Liam.” Daniel’s voice was miles away. Warm hands cradled my face. “Liam, stay with me. Come on, we don’t have much time.” I blinked, forced my eyes open. “Your neck. Let me . . .” His eyebrows jumped. “Why?” “We’re not out of this yet,” I said. “You need to be able to use your hands. Arms. Whatever. Can’t risk injuring muscles or tendons.” He was quiet for a moment. “Okay. Okay, we’ll do it that way.” I exhaled. “You sure about this?”

He nodded, swallowing hard. He’d always been ready and willing, never even flinching when I fed off him, but he knew as well as I did this was dangerous. Feeding was one thing. Feeding after we’d both lost a shitload of blood was an entirely different one. But sitting here waiting to recover on my own was out of the question if either of us were going to make it out of this alive. Holding Daniel’s gaze, I tongued the point of one incisor. “I’ll be careful.” I leaned in. “I promise.” The sound of his heartbeat made my mouth water, and my head spun faster. He said nothing, just tilted his head to the side. His fingers combed through my hair like they always had when we’d done this in the past, and his gentle—if trembling—touch made me shiver. I kissed his skin and whispered, “Thank you.” Praying for the restraint to do this without hurting him, I sank my teeth into the flesh at the base of his neck, just above his shoulder. Even more carefully, I punctured the pulsing vein. Warm, salty blood flowed onto my tongue and a million memories flooded my mind. Feeding off Daniel on those nights when we’d made love in secret. How I was always afraid my

parents would find out I had a human lover, but when Daniel and I were together, I wasn’t afraid of anything. All the reasons I’d loved him back then, even if it meant risking everything, and how much I still— “Liam.” He pressed against my arm. “Liam, don’t . . .” His voice was weak, almost slurred. Shit. I ran my tongue over the wounds to close them, and the taste of his flesh and his blood made me want to rip through his skin all over again, but I wrenched myself away. “I’m sorry, I . . . did I take too much? Are you all right?” “I’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “What about you?” “Same.” I wanted more, needed more, but my head wasn’t so light now. As my vision cleared, though, I realized he’d paled more than he had all night, and my heart jumped. “Shit, are you—” “I’m okay. Relax.” He smiled and added, “As long as you’ll make it.” He curved his hand around the back of my neck and drew me to him. Though Daniel had never been comfortable kissing me after I’d fed, he didn’t hesitate this time. It wasn’t a deep kiss, but it lasted a few long, dizzying seconds.

We pulled apart and looked at each other. “You okay to keep going?” I asked. “Yeah. You?” “I will be.” I started to get up, but fresh pain ripped across my gut. Grimacing, I clutched my stomach and groaned. “Shit, what’s wrong?” “Not. Quite. Healed yet.” I took a slow, deep breath. “Fuck.” Feeding had brought me closer to full consciousness, and as a result, I was doubly aware of how much this hurt. He put his hand on my shoulder. “How much longer will it take? Before you can go on, I mean?” I winced as I settled back onto the floor, trying to get comfortable. “Fifteen or twenty minutes, maybe.” “That fast?” I looked at him, one eyebrow up. “It doesn’t feel nearly as fast on this end, just so you know.” He laughed softly. “Well, we should have enough of a head start. I think we can afford to wait.” We still had to find a way to get into the Gutter, and from there, someplace relatively safe from Richard Harding’s men, but Daniel was right. I had to rest until my wounds healed and my body regained

some semblance of equilibrium. So did he. Not here, though. The car was right overhead, so if anyone happened upon it, they could make the connection between that and the open manhole cover. Daniel helped me to my feet, and, leaning on each other like a couple of wavering drunks, we managed to stay upright. “This way.” I gestured past the fan. There were hundreds like it all over the city, each spaced five or ten meters apart. We made it past three or four of them, then had to stop. While we rested beside a roaring fan, I pulled up our location on a mod-map. I didn’t dare tap into a GPS, since that could clue someone in on our location, but the mod-map wouldn’t ping me on any other system. Once I knew our location, I did a quick mental calculation; we were several blocks away from the nearest subway station. We were also getting short on time. Every few meters, metal grates over our heads let in spikes of crisp white light from the streetlamps. In a few hours, they’d let sunlight through, and some of those blades of light would make it through the fans into the Gutter. We had to get down and into some

sort of shelter, but trying to make our escape to and through a subway station would take too long. And it would be too dangerous. We were much too conspicuous like this. Covered in blood, we’d even turn heads in the Gutter. There was no other choice, then. We had to go down into the Gutter here. Now. I shifted my gaze toward the fan. There was only one way down. Shouting over the roar of the fan, I said, “I’m going to stop the blades. Then you’re going to jump.” “What? Are you insane?” “You’ll just have to trust me,” I shouted. “It’s either that or wait for someone to find us.” Daniel glanced at the fan, then looked me in the eyes and heaved a resigned sigh. “Have you healed enough?” “I’ll manage.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “All right, let’s do this.” I hauled myself to my feet, wincing at the ache in my abdomen where muscles and tissue were still fusing back together. It would all be good as new within the hour, but I didn’t want to wait any longer

than we absolutely had to. Daniel followed me to one of the fans. Standing on the edge, I activated the mod on my temple, and a display of the building beneath us appeared on top of the fan, outlining in thin green lines everything we couldn’t see through the haze below. “You’re going to go down between the blades. About two meters below is a ledge.” I gestured at the image of the concrete lip below. “Drop straight down, stay close to the wall. Then get out of the way, and I’ll join you.” He nodded slowly. I turned off the projection. “Once the fan stops, you won’t have much time. I can only hold it for so long.” “Hold it?” He blinked. “You mean you’re—” His eyes darted toward the huge blades. “You’re going to stop it yourself?” “Unless you can come up with a better idea, yes.” “Are you—” “Yes, I’m insane.” I drew my pistol from my waistband. “Go stand behind that pillar.” I gestured at a wide concrete support post. Daniel eyed the gun warily before doing as I said.

Once he was safely hidden, I turned toward the fan and shot off one of the four bolts securing the iron grate over the blades. The bullet ricocheted, pinging off an overhead beam before slamming into the concrete wall in a small explosion of dust and rocks. The second and third rounds blew off the bolts, but didn’t bounce. The fourth, though, ricocheted off the grate, and embedded itself into the pillar behind which Daniel stood. My heart skipped. Fuck. Way too close. I checked to make sure all the bolts were out of the way, then shouted, “All right, come give me a hand with this.” He came out from behind the pillar, and together we lifted the grate out of the way. Then I walked out onto one of the horizontal beams over the exposed fan blades. I knelt and looked at him. Over the roar of the fans, I shouted, “You ready?” He shook his head. “Good! Here we go.” I braced with one arm and my foot dangerously close to the blades. Then I held my other hand just above the fan and watched, flexing and straightening my fingers as I counted,

timed, memorized the intervals of the spinning blades below me. One . . . two . . . I shoved my hand in and grabbed a blade, swearing and grimacing as the edge dug into my skin. My muscles ached with the strain of trying to hold the fan in place and keep my balance on the beam. I was weak and exhausted, and modified vampire strength or no, holding the blade back was more difficult than I’d anticipated. “Go!” I shouted. “Now!” Daniel looked at me like I was insane. Then his eyes darted toward the unmoving fan and the tendrils of thick, yellow Gutter haze snaking upward. “Daniel, now!” He closed his eyes and mouthed either prayer or profanity. After one last heartbeat of hesitation, he opened his eyes and disappeared through the opaque cloud. Once he was gone, I waited about fifteen seconds to give him a chance to catch his balance and get out of the way, not to mention recover from the shock of breathing in that noxious pollution. Then I adjusted my position so I could jump while keeping the fan still

for the moment. I didn’t want to have to wait for the nanobots to rebuild an entire damned limb, or reinstall the module in my right hand, so I had to time this perfectly.

One . . . two . . . three. I jumped. The fan jerked into motion with more force than I anticipated and threw me off balance. I slipped between the blades without injury, but I was already lightheaded, and now I was disoriented. Panic rushed through me as I plummeted through the haze.

Where’s the ledge? Where’s the fucking ledge? I landed with one foot on and one foot off, too much of my body weight over the wrong foot, and didn’t even teeter before I kept falling. Hands shot out and seized my arm and shirt. I stopped abruptly, and my vision turned white as recently healed flesh tore open across my abdomen. Heart pounding and feet dangling over the emptiness below, I reached up for Daniel. He was on his stomach, bracing with his knee and his elbow, his lips pulled into a tight grimace. I was the heavier of the two of us, and blood loss had weakened us both. Worse, my two bullet wounds had ripped apart

again, and just holding on like this was agony. With one hand, I let go of his shirt and grabbed the ledge. Using gaps between bricks as toeholds, I inched up, my stomach on fire with every motion. He guided me, bracing himself on the slim lip of concrete and gripping my arm in both hands. We were both trembling, and he seemed as close to losing his grip as I was, so I had to move fast. As soon as I had enough of my upper body over the ledge, I heaved myself up, cursing as excruciating pain blurred my vision. Daniel had gone from prone to kneeling to pull me up, and when I moved, we both lost our balance and toppled into a heap together, dangerously close to the edge. I landed on top of him, agony surging in all directions from the wounds in my gut. Daniel took a breath, probably to speak, but quickly turned away and coughed a few times. The caustic air burned my eyes and the back of my throat, but the freshly opened wounds dared me to cough. I pulled in enough air to ask, “You all right?” He nodded. “How do you breathe in this shit?” “You get used to it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He coughed again. “What about you? You all right?” I grimaced. “Been better.” He looked down and gasped. “Shit, you’re bleeding again.” “I’ll be all right,” I said. “Just . . . let me roll over.” Carefully, we shifted positions, and with Daniel’s help I eased myself onto my back. The wounds burned and the muscles ached, but that familiar tingling assured me the nanobots were doing their job. Little fuckers had earned their keep tonight. Daniel caressed my cheek. “Are you sure you’re all right?” “I will be.” I put my hand over his and turned my head to kiss his palm. “I think we’re out of the woods, though.” “Not yet.” He ran trembling fingers down the side of my face. “We still have to get down from here before daybreak.” “We have time now. Just have to get down and get a cab.” He raised an eyebrow. “You are aware we’re both covered in blood, right?” I laughed, wincing as my wounded flesh protested.

“Welcome to the Gutter, Daniel.” I paused, glancing down at our blood-saturated shirts. “We might be a little conspicuous, but people don’t ask questions down here.” When skepticism drew his eyebrows together, I chuckled. “You’re in my world now,” I said with a grin. “Trust me. We’re good.” He hesitated, but then smiled back. “Guess trusting you hasn’t failed me so far, has it?” “No. No, it hasn’t.” I cocked my head and added, “I’m guessing you don’t feel the need to shoot me again?” Daniel laughed. “No, I think I got that out of my system.” “Well, thank fuck for that.” I pulled him down to me. We still needed to get back to my place, but this was my turf. I was back in control. There was time for the nanobots to put me back together. There was time to escape what little sunlight would make it down this far. At the very least, we had time for one long kiss. Maybe two.

I SHUT my apartment’s front door behind me, then latched the half dozen locks that kept out the rest of the world. Daniel looked around, taking in the Spartan, mismatched surroundings. His last memory of my living conditions was similar to the penthouse we’d just escaped, so this had to be a shock. It was hardly squalor or filth, just the kind of bland utilitarianism only the destitute could find comfortable. “Sorry it’s not much to look at,” I said. Daniel shrugged and turned to me. “Considering no one here is trying to kill me, I’m not complaining.” We both laughed. “Well. Your father’s men won’t find us down here. You’re safe.” “As safe as anyone can be with a vampire assassin in the Gutter, right?” “Probably safer with me than anyone else. At least until the dust settles.” I paused. “When it does, I guess we can go our separate ways.”

“We can,” he said with a nod. “But, do we have to?” “I . . .” I wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Liam, I have nowhere else to go now.” Earlier tonight, I’d have thought it karma to turn him out into the Gutter without shelter or a clue. But things had changed, hadn’t they? “So, what do you suggest we do now?” I asked. “Maybe we can work together,” he said. “We both want to help the people in the Gutter, and we both want to take the cybernetics companies down.” “Well, I could certainly use a hacker with inside knowledge and connections. And I guess it—” I swallowed. “We’ll figure it out, I guess. But for now, you can stay as long as you need to.” Daniel looked me in the eye and took a step toward me. “What about as long as I want to?” “That depends.” I shifted my weight, not sure if I wanted to step back or step right into him. “How, um . . .” I searched his eyes. “How long do you want to stay?” He came closer still, and I couldn’t remember how to breathe when he reached for my waist. “That’s . . . negotiable.”

“Is it?” One more step, and he snaked an arm around my waist as my arms, moving of their own accord, wrapped around him. “I already lost you once because I fucked up. Tonight, I almost had to watch you die. I’m . . .” He dropped his gaze for a few long seconds before meeting my eyes once more. “I’m not ready to lose you again.” “Even after why I was there?” “Yes,” he whispered, running his fingers through my hair, not even flinching when they grazed the mod on my temple. “And I’m sorry. For everything.” “Me too. And—” I moistened my lips, struggling to concentrate with the phantom taste of his kiss lingering in my mouth. “Thanks. For, you know, trusting me. To get out of there.” “I had my doubts, but . . .” He shifted his gaze toward the mod, this time watching his fingertips trace its edge. A subtle smile, one I hadn’t seen in far too long, pulled across his lips. “It’s a little ironic, I guess. I never thought a mod would actually help me.” I laughed, but my humor faded as I touched his face. “I never thought—” I’d see you again. I’d want to

see you again. I’d still love you this much if I did see you again. The words didn’t make it past the tip of my tongue, though. Instead, I slid my hand into his hair and leaned in closer. Hand still on the side of my face, half on flesh and half on metal, Daniel raised his chin. We inched closer, and when our lips nearly touched, we froze. My heart raced as we just breathed on each other, just touched each other. In spite of artificially honed senses that made me hyperaware of any movement within a ten-meter radius, I couldn’t have said which of us finally closed the distance. One second his breath mingled with mine in a sliver of space; the next, my lips were against his. It was nothing like the violent, feverish kiss up against the glass in his penthouse. Slow. Gentle. Tender. Just like the last kiss we’d shared before it all fell apart. And, pulling him closer, I realized that— at least for tonight—everything between that kiss and this one didn’t matter anymore. It all made sense. The last five years had been a hellish, painful, bloody path leading us both back to each other. To this. We were far from anything like perfection, and maybe we’d never reach that point, but we were both alive

and we were both here. That was as good a start as I could ask for. I pulled back and met his eyes, trailing my fingers down his cheek. “I could use a shower,” I said. “How about you?” God, it had been too long since he’d grinned at me quite like that, and it just about knocked my knees out from under me. “I think a shower would be perfect,” he said, and kissed me again. Hot, clean water was one of two luxuries I had in this rundown place—the other being obscurity—and in moments, Daniel and I were standing under a stream of that steaming, stinging water. Wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing and touching like we’d never been apart, we let the hot water slough the dried blood and Gutter stench and grudges off our skin. We held on, touched, kissed, turned each other on until there was no turning back. I stroked his erection until he whispered for me to face the wall, and then he teased my entrance with two wet fingers until I pleaded with him for more. It had been forever since

I’d wanted anyone this badly. Half a damned decade. No other man had ever driven me to begging. Tonight, Daniel didn’t make me beg for long. He nudged my legs apart with his knee, and I bit my lip as his hand slid over my ass. When he spit on his palm, I shivered, fighting to keep from losing control before he’d even fucked me. His lips brushed the side of my neck. Closing my eyes, I tilted my head, barely breathing as he kissed my neck and pressed his cock against me. It had been so long since I’d taken a man, so much longer since that man had been Daniel, and the sensation of his cock sliding into me was so intense my eyes watered. He moved slowly, so slowly. All the way in, almost all the way out, all the way to the hilt. If he was anything like he’d been when I’d known him years ago, he was being cautious for my sake. He didn’t want to hurt me, but I wanted the hurt, so I braced against the wall and pushed back against him. Daniel took the hint and took over; growling softly in my ear, he thrust into me hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. “Oh, my God,” he whispered. “I’ve . . . missed this .

. .” “Me too.” My sensory enhancements let me savor everything about him: The whisper of his lips brushing my neck. His heart pounding as he fucked me hard, hard, harder. My nerve endings on fire with the heat of his flesh against mine, and goosebumps rising wherever his breath rushed across my wet skin. I was exhausted in every way imaginable, aching from head to toe, but I’d waited too long for this. Without even knowing it, I’d been waiting for this, and I wasn’t ready for it to be over yet, no matter how much my body protested as we moved together, trembled together, fell to pieces together. My orgasm built to the most deliciously painful intensity, but I held back, savoring this for one more thrust, two more, and on the third, I released my breath and surrendered. Daniel buried his face against the side of my neck. Even over the sound of my thundering heart and my roar of ecstasy, I didn’t miss the soft whisper that cooled my skin and preceded a deep, full body shudder as he came inside me. Neither of us moved for a long moment, not until

he rested a hand on my hip and pulled out. I turned around and leaned against the damp, cool wall. Daniel sank against me, and I wrapped my arms around him. “I didn’t expect this tonight,” he whispered over the shower’s white noise. “Any of it.” I kissed his forehead. “I don’t think either of us could have predicted this.” He said nothing. He just lifted his chin and kissed me gently. I touched my forehead to his. “I love you, Daniel.” “I love you, too.” He combed his fingers through my hair. “I don’t think I ever stopped, to be honest.” With a cautious grin, I asked, “Not even when I showed up at your place with a gun?” Daniel laughed, pulling back enough to look me in the eye. “Okay, maybe for a minute or two.” His expression turned serious, and he moistened his lips. “But after what you went through because of me . . .” I smoothed his hair. “All of that’s over. Maybe if we work together, we can do something about the people who put everyone else down here.” He nodded. “Maybe we can.” Sliding his hands

around my waist, he pulled my hips to his. “For the time being, though, what do you think we should do with the rest of the night?” “The night?” I grinned. “I’m a vampire, Daniel. We have the rest of the day.” He returned the grin. “So we do.” And as the sun rose above the Sky, and the Gutter’s yellow haze no doubt glowed a noxious early morning gold with whatever sunlight crept through the grates and fans above, Daniel and I toweled off and sank into my bed together. By now, his father likely knew we’d slipped through his fingers. More than likely, there was already a price on both our heads. But Richard Harding didn’t know who he was dealing with. Daniel and I were lovers again. We were allies. Today, we’d rest in the safety of each others’ arms. Tomorrow? Wheels would start turning. This was only the beginning. The Sky was coming down.

From Dreamspinner Press:

Rules of Engagement and Rain

From Samhain Publishing:

Nine-tenths of the Law A. J.’s Angel The Distance Between Us and The Closer You Get Out of Focus

From Amber Allure:

Static Ex Equals The Changing Plans series:

Getting off the Ground Infinity Pools On The List

From Carnal Passions:

Cover Me, Trust Me, and Search Me The Best Man Noble Metals (coming soon)

From Loose Id, LLC:

With the Band

Writing as Lauren Gallagher

From Carnal Passions:

Between Brothers The Next Move Until It’s Over Light Switch and Reconstructing Meredith

From Champagne Books:

Disengaged

From Noble Romance:

Camera Shy

From Loose Id:

Damaged Goods

L.A. Witt is a M/M erotica writer who, after three years in Okinawa, Japan, has recently relocated to Omaha, Nebraska, with her husband, two cats, and a three-headed clairvoyant parakeet named Fred. There is some speculation that this move was not actually because of her husband’s military orders but to help L.A. close in on her arch nemesis, erotica author Lauren Gallagher, who has also recently transferred to Omaha. So, don’t anyone tell Lauren. She’s not getting away this time . . . Website: http://www.loriawitt.com Email: [email protected] Twitter: GallagherWitt

Table of Contents TABLE OF CONTENTS