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“You were the one who decided to park in the middle of the road.”
“Fuck you.”
In the side view mirror, the cop-bot striding down the flank of the Tesla was one of the new models with the animatronic faces. Shuli didn’t know enough about computers to begin to guess at the technology required to project expressions that were non-threatening through plastic skin and a composite metal skull. What he was clear on was that he missed the good ol’ days when patrol officers had minds you could manipulate at will.
He put his window down. “Sorry, Officer, my car lost power. It’s back on now—”
“Greetings. I am Officer 9017 of the Caldwell Police Department. May I please see your—”
“The car just malfunctioned.” Shuli pointed to the screen. “But the glitch in the system’s fixed itself, so I’ll be on my way—”
“Your license and registration, please.”
Even though it was January, the thing was in a navy blue, all-season uniform, with long sleeves but no jacket. They even put wigs on the fuckers, some curly black hair buffering around the base of the CPD-branded cap.
“I’m telling you, Officer, it’s cool. I’m just minding my business here.”
“I am programmed to remind you that under the Civil Law Code, section one-four-nine-five, paragraphs one and two, all drivers operating a vehicle within the Caldwell city limits are required—”
The gun entered the periphery of Shuli’s vision from over on his right—and the muzzle was pointed at him, at the meat of his pecs. Not the nuts-and-bolts of law enforcement.
“What the fuck are you doing,” he said in a low voice to Nate.
As their eyes met, he held his breath as he recognized nothing of the male he had once known in the face and stare of the guy sitting in his passenger seat. Then the muzzle shifted a quarter of an inch to the right. The trigger was pulled, and a bullet narrowly passed by his sternum and plowed into the cop-bot officer, blowing him off of his boots.
“Oh, fuckinghell,” Shuli spat. “Are you even kidding me!”
As the patrol car’s alarm started blaring, he punched theaccelerator, and the Tesla went plaid and then some toward the next intersection. Plowing south through a red light, he played dodge ’em car with the traffic flowing east to west, his ten-and-two death grips wrenching the steering wheel hard left, harder right, less left,reallyright—
It dawned on him that, with Nate still sitting like a fucking statue in his goddamn passenger seat, he was taking the problem with him.
And that was his last thought before he overcorrected, hit a curb, and flipped his fucking car over.
CHAPTER THREE
No. Justno. I mean, really?”
Nalla, blooded daughter of the Black Dagger Brother Zsadist, son of Ahgony, hated to draw the hard line, especially with someone like her best friend. But as she shifted her eyes to the mirror over her bathroom sink, she was too tired to argue while she wiped the condensation off with the heel of her hand. It had been draining to sneak in and avoid hermahmen. But what choice did she have? The subterfuge was better than having one of their usual stilted conversations.
Out in her bedroom proper, Bitty, adopted daughter of the Brother Rhage, lost her hey-I’ve-got-an-idea optimism. The female was sitting on the messy bed, leaning back against the padded headboard, her vintage Baskin-Robbins sweatshirt and well-washed jeans the sartorial opposite of what she was proposing.
“But it could be fun,” she said.
Yeah, sure. If they were two different people. Or going to a different place. With different people.
Nalla tightened the tuck on the towel she’d wrapped herself in.Then she turned around and frowned through the open doorway. “Hey, did you color your hair?”
“Oh, I did, yes.” Bitty yanked out the tie and fluffed the lengths around, the reds that had been streaked through the darkness gleaming copper and pink. “Just some highlights. Sabine did it. What do you think?”
The shy pride in the female’s heart-shaped face was a reminder that they were not the same.
“I think it’s beautiful,” Nalla answered gently. Which would have been her reply even if the dye job had been god-awful.
It wasn’t, but Bitty didn’t need the tinting. With all her dark hair, and a face that didn’t need makeup, she had a natural glow to her that was worth so much more than the glamour shit the pick-me females and women plastered on themselves.
“Is that why you want to go out tonight?” Nalla grabbed her brush and started yanking it through her own wet tangles. “There are so many better places to go than Bathe.”
Industrial accidents. Active volcanos.
