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Authors: Red (html)
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whoever was watching know that she was aware of his presence. Red
forced herself to release her weapon. The stalker wasn't a threat—at
least in the physical sense.
She fought the instinct to turn
and confront the indi vidual. Her body
trembled from the effort. The last thing Red needed was a skirmish upon
arrival in town. She knew better than to piss in someone
else's water reserve, especially when that someone may have the information
she needed.
Breathe. Let it go. You have no jurisdiction.
You're here to look
around, remember?
Red pressed on reluctantly, ignoring the urge to
glance back. She refused to give whoever it was the satisfaction of knowing that
she was rattled. Besides, she had things to
do. Locating shelter was the first or der of business. She had plenty of
credits saved, so finding refuge shouldn't be difficult.
Even small boundary towns housed a variety of share spaces.
Once Red secured a room, she'd track down
the local sheriff, Morgan Hunter. If there were murders or strange things happening in his town, he would know about it. After a cursory glance at
his stats back at headquarters, she wasn't looking forward to the
meeting.
Some people on the tactical team
considered repub lic law-enforcement
officers inferior to their international counterparts, but not Red. She knew
better. Some of the best tactical team
enforcers she'd met on the job were recruited from small towns within the various
republics.
Morgan had been recruited by IPTT, but ultimately
turned the position down—something all but unheard of at tactical team
headquarters. Instead, he'd returned to Nuria and took the position of sheriff.
He'd been on the job ever since.
She pulled Rita out of her tote and slipped the newly repaired navcom on her wrist. Once again
Red opened the electronic file on Morgan Hunter. She needed to know
more. What he looked like would be a good place to start. His documentation
listed that he'd been on the job for the past fifteen years; a long time to
spend with no opportunity for advancement.
Red pressed the screen and an
image of the sheriff popped up. She
blinked in disbelief, then hit the refresh button. The picture remained
unchanged. He wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting, after Ban-non called
him an uncooperative territorial bastard.
He was younger—much younger—and handsome in a wholly
exotic, battered warrior kind of way.
Red stared at the image, taking in his rugged cleft
chin. savage mouth, dark wavy hair, and stern no nonsense expression. His nose
appeared to have been broken at some point and reset the old-fashioned way. He
hadn't bothered to use enhancers to hide the injury as most people with
imperfections routinely did. This is a typical enforcer image, Red told her-self, ignoring her heart's sudden acceleration
and the sweat forming on her palms.
She rubbed her hands along her pants, then
high-lighted his face so that
the image would zoom in. The mo ve brought his golden eyes to the
forefront. Red had never seen a color so vibrant and rich. Like m olten honey that had been kissed by the sun, they
pra ctically glowed. There was no way they could be real, but she knew
that they were ...
Captivating.
The word came to Red's mind before she could brush it aside.
Strange, she'd never thought of a man as captivating before. She gazed at the image, allowing herself time to
study his features. What made Morgan Hunter so different? Red tried to recall the last time she'd noticed a man. Her mind blanked like a virus-ridden compunit screen.
If she couldn't remember the last
time she'd noticed a man, Red
didn't even want to think about how long it had been since her last physical joining.
Twenty missions ago? Forty? More?
She grimaced. It had been too long since she'd
experienced anything other than a computerized body toy. Not that
they weren't good, with their advanced A.I. orgasm-inducement system, but
they'd never replace the real thing. There was just something about having a
man's
forced herself to release her weapon. The stalker wasn't a threat—at
least in the physical sense.
She fought the instinct to turn
and confront the indi vidual. Her body
trembled from the effort. The last thing Red needed was a skirmish upon
arrival in town. She knew better than to piss in someone
else's water reserve, especially when that someone may have the information
she needed.
Breathe. Let it go. You have no jurisdiction.
You're here to look
around, remember?
Red pressed on reluctantly, ignoring the urge to
glance back. She refused to give whoever it was the satisfaction of knowing that
she was rattled. Besides, she had things to
do. Locating shelter was the first or der of business. She had plenty of
credits saved, so finding refuge shouldn't be difficult.
Even small boundary towns housed a variety of share spaces.
Once Red secured a room, she'd track down
the local sheriff, Morgan Hunter. If there were murders or strange things happening in his town, he would know about it. After a cursory glance at
his stats back at headquarters, she wasn't looking forward to the
meeting.
Some people on the tactical team
considered repub lic law-enforcement
officers inferior to their international counterparts, but not Red. She knew
better. Some of the best tactical team
enforcers she'd met on the job were recruited from small towns within the various
republics.
Morgan had been recruited by IPTT, but ultimately
turned the position down—something all but unheard of at tactical team
headquarters. Instead, he'd returned to Nuria and took the position of sheriff.
He'd been on the job ever since.
She pulled Rita out of her tote and slipped the newly repaired navcom on her wrist. Once again
Red opened the electronic file on Morgan Hunter. She needed to know
more. What he looked like would be a good place to start. His documentation
listed that he'd been on the job for the past fifteen years; a long time to
spend with no opportunity for advancement.
Red pressed the screen and an
image of the sheriff popped up. She
blinked in disbelief, then hit the refresh button. The picture remained
unchanged. He wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting, after Ban-non called
him an uncooperative territorial bastard.
He was younger—much younger—and handsome in a wholly
exotic, battered warrior kind of way.
Red stared at the image, taking in his rugged cleft
chin. savage mouth, dark wavy hair, and stern no nonsense expression. His nose
appeared to have been broken at some point and reset the old-fashioned way. He
hadn't bothered to use enhancers to hide the injury as most people with
imperfections routinely did. This is a typical enforcer image, Red told her-self, ignoring her heart's sudden acceleration
and the sweat forming on her palms.
She rubbed her hands along her pants, then
high-lighted his face so that
the image would zoom in. The mo ve brought his golden eyes to the
forefront. Red had never seen a color so vibrant and rich. Like m olten honey that had been kissed by the sun, they
pra ctically glowed. There was no way they could be real, but she knew
that they were ...
Captivating.
The word came to Red's mind before she could brush it aside.
Strange, she'd never thought of a man as captivating before. She gazed at the image, allowing herself time to
study his features. What made Morgan Hunter so different? Red tried to recall the last time she'd noticed a man. Her mind blanked like a virus-ridden compunit screen.
If she couldn't remember the last
time she'd noticed a man, Red
didn't even want to think about how long it had been since her last physical joining.
Twenty missions ago? Forty? More?
She grimaced. It had been too long since she'd
experienced anything other than a computerized body toy. Not that
they weren't good, with their advanced A.I. orgasm-inducement system, but
they'd never replace the real thing. There was just something about having a
man's
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