Judd had no argument with that, understood why the Arrows needed to maintain this secret. “Do you have images of a private location?” He needed it for a teleport lock.
Aden pulled out a small phone, handed it over. “Photos loaded. Call the preset number when you arrive and one of them will come out to meet you. Connection is secure, can’t be traced, even if hacked.”
Taking it, Judd considered how many more of these defector cells there might be across the world, martial and familial. “You’ve laid the groundwork for a total defection from the Net.” Houses, finances, alternate lives, the defectors had had years to put everything in place.
Aden took time to reply. “It’s an option, but only if there is no other. The squad has no wish to abandon the Net, but neither will we stand by and watch those in power use us up then discard us.”
“Some of us are tired, Judd,” Vasic added quietly, the gray of his eyes holding the darkest of shadows. “When this is all over, all we ask for is peace.”
When this is all over…
Judd wondered if anything or anyone would survive when the civil war in the PsyNet began in earnest, whether Vasic would ever find his peace … or go to his death an Arrow to the last.
“DO we need to see Bowen today?” Adria said to Riaz as they finished breakfast on the balcony, wanting to suggest they spend their time walking around the city. A little space might ease the strange, painful tension that both connected and distanced them.
He shook his head. “Until Judd gets here to test the neural chips, there’s not much we can do.” His phone beeped at that instant, the number on the screen making him grin as he answered. “The deal done?” A pause, then, “Yeah, fine.” His grin widened at whatever the person on the other end had said, before he spoke again. “Where? Right.”
Hanging up without good-bye, he said, “Do you know Pierce?”
“Tall, ice green eyes, could be Italian, Indian, Eastern European, a combination of all of the above or none at all?” The man she was thinking of had visited with Matthias a couple of years back, having driven his mom and nephew over to see a show. “Senior soldier out of Alexei’s sector?”
Riaz grinned at her description. “That’s him. He’s tied up the deal he was working on and is headed in to see us. I assumed you’d be okay meeting up with him.”
“Of course.” Even a lone wolf, she thought, needed contact with members of his pack, and if Pierce had taken over Riaz’s duties, he’d been on his own for months.
“As for his heritage,” Riaz told her, eyes gleaming, “Pierce told me he comes from a line of globe-trotting marauders turned traders who mated ‘with men and women from every known country and some that no longer exist’ over the centuries.”
“Good story.”
“From his track record, women obviously think so.”
Pierce had apparently already been on a water bus when he’d called and it was only fifteen minutes later that they caught up with the other man in the lobby of their hotel. Adria’s wolf chuckled at glimpsing the sidelong glances of passing women—and more than a few men—who couldn’t take their eyes off Riaz and Pierce. One woman almost walked into a column. Adria sympathized. Separately they were both sexy, dangerous men with dark hair and bodies that could make a woman whimper. Together, they were lethal.
Oblivious to the attention, the two men embraced in a typically male way, complete with slaps on the back and punches on the shoulders.
“You still fucking owe me a hundred bucks,” was Pierce’s opening greeting.
“I’ll buy you an ice cream.”
The exchange made Adria’s wolf grin, because it was clear the two were close enough friends that they didn’t bother to be polite. When Pierce turned to her, his crystal clear eyes narrowed for a second. “Matthias’s sector.”
“Excellent memory.” Introducing herself, she took a backseat to the conversation as they headed out to explore, the men’s quiet, deep voices a welcome accompaniment to her absorption in Venice.
Walking into a glass-smith’s forge on the neighboring island of Murano, she lost herself in the colors and shapes created from the fire, while Riaz and Pierce prowled alongside her with lazy patience. The pieces created in that small workshop and the ones that followed were beyond beautiful, fragile dreams born of silica and painstaking craftsmanship. She stroked her hand over a flowing sculpture that sighed with sensuality, laughed in delight at the tiny glass birds perched on an indoor tree, was beguiled by the miniature chandeliers.
In the end, she bought a trio of birds with bright cobalt plumage. “For Tarah, Indigo, and Evie, plus this gorgeous necklace for my mom,” she said to Riaz when he walked over from another corner of the artisan’s store, showing him the lustrous beads of orange swirled with gold. “And these for me.” She held up a pair of miniature hummingbirds, the earrings jewel green with a dash of scarlet.
“You sure you want those?” A solemn question. “You’ve only been in half the stores on the island.”
“Go ahead,” she said, “make fun of the new traveler.”
He kissed her on the cheek instead, the warmth of his body a caress she’d missed. “I like seeing Venice through your eyes.”
A tiny bud of hope sprouted in her heart. “Thank you for showing me this shop.” It had been hidden, a secret treasure trove. “What’s that?”
He held up two small glass boxes in different colors, tied with glass bows of silver. “I took my mother one last time and she told me she needed a set. And for her highness, Marisol, I’ll be grabbing a big box of candy.”
It was impossible not to adore a man who made no bones about how much he loved the women in his life. “Your niece is a lucky girl,” she said, rising to drop a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And your mother raised a good man.”
His arm slid across her waist to settle on her hip. “Pierce found something he thinks you’ll like.” Tapping her on the nose, he nodded to the other end of the shop. “I’ll have this wrapped for you.”
“Thanks.” The tiny bud within her grew a single whisper-thin leaf of vivid green: Sex was one thing, but giving and accepting such sweet affection—tender and public and playful—it took their relationship to a haunting new place. A place that might cause her terrible hurt, and yet one she knew she couldn’t walk away from.
It was too late for that.
Chapter 43
CHEST TIGHT WITH the realization, Adria crossed over to Pierce and peered inside the glass case beside which he stood. The sculpture displayed within was frankly bizarre—it looked like someone had smashed up a hunk of puke-colored glass, then put it back together. Badly.
“Isn’t it magnificent?” Pierce touched the case with reverent fingertips.
Not wanting to hurt his feelings, she scrambled for a response. “I can see it speaks to you.”
“Oh, yes. The artistic flow is indescribable.”
Adria wasn’t sure quite what to say to that, but he was waiting for her to respond with such an expectant expression on his face that she knew she had to speak. “Yes, it’s … ah … imaginative.”
Pierce began to talk about the absorbing ambiguity of the shapes and how the power of the piece was a subtle fusion of light and darkness. It was almost two minutes later, just when she was plotting her escape, that she caught the glint in his eye and realized she’d been had. Intense, passionate, and intelligent Pierce was a playful wolf at heart.
“Yes, yes,” she said when he paused, “you’re so right. In fact, I think it’d be the perfect gift.” Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting out laughing, she took one of his hands in between her own. “I’m going to buy it for you—no, no, I insist. You’ve been so great today, so patient.”
Distinct alarm. “No, there’s no need. I already have—”
“I insist.” Turning, she quick-stepped it to where Riaz was standing at the counter, the bag containing her souvenirs in hand. “Riaz, I found the best gift for Pierce.”
“If you give me that monstrosity,” Pierce growled from behind her, “I will regift it to you on your birthday.”
A snort escaped Adria. Pierce’s eyes narrowed. And then she was laughing so hard, she had to walk outside and collapse against the wall. Following her out, Riaz tugged on her braid. “Pierce is not amused.” Deep gold, his eyes told her his wolf most definitely was.
Pierce’s snarl made tears come out of her eyes. “Serves you right,” she managed to get out to the glowering male.
“Hey! I was—” An abrupt pause. “I think that’s my cell.”
Adria hadn’t heard anything, but perhaps he had it on vibrate. As he walked a few steps away to answer the call, she turned to Riaz. “Do we have time to sneak into the glass museum I saw?”
Riaz wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tucking her close. “Come on.”
Wanting to nuzzle at his throat, she gave in a little and pressed a kiss to the hollow. His response was a teasing snap of his teeth by her ear.
We’ll be okay.
The bud greened with health, but deep inside, she knew it would never be so simple.
TRAVELING under an assumed name, and with his features disguised to avoid attention, Judd stepped off an airjet at Marco Polo Airport late that afternoon, then caught a water bus to Venice. He could’ve teleported in and negated the need for the subterfuge, but there was no point in using up his telekinetic reserves without cause.
When he reached the island, he found a corner out of sight of passersby—and of security cameras, concentrated on the images Aden had given him, and teleported to the location where he was to meet the rebels. It proved to be a small indoor courtyard, the walls creamy with age and covered with some type of a dark green vine.
There was no need to make a cell phone call.
“I was told I was expected,” he said to the armed man who watched him with the flat eyes of an Arrow, though he was dressed in faded denim jeans and a blue T-shirt.