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But…Abe doesn’t have saliva, so what was that?

“Did you?” he demands, louder this time.

He can’t even shake his head with how tightly Abe’s holding him. His feet continue to kick Abe in the shins, but the sound is like kicking a hubcap, so I doubt Abe even registers the movement.

When Abe drops the guy to his knees, I assume he’s going to let go in order to get some answers, but instead, he slams a fist into the man’s cheek, and the cracking of bone is loud enough to stay with me until I’m old and gray.

“Are you the portal bomber, or is it him?” Abe’s grip isn’t as tight, but it remains around the man’s throat as blood pours from the fresh wound on his cheek. “Answer me!” Abe hits him again in the same spot. And again, and again, until his face is so swollen and torn up it no longer resembles a face.

I get to my feet with the intent of begging him to stop, if only to spare me the distinct wet squelch of him pummeling the man’s already broken face when, out of the corner of my eye, I see the first guy charging at Abe’s back.

“Abe, behind you!”

He turns just in time to slam his fist into the man’s stomach so hard it sends him flying through the air and landing flat on his back with a pitiful groan.

We stand there, waiting for one or both of them to resume their attack, but neither moves an inch.

Before I can register his movement, Abe has me wrapped in his arms as he scans my face for injuries. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

I’m stunned into silence by the contrast of his tenderness with me and the brutality with my attackers only seconds before. The hand that isn’t covered in blood lightly cups my cheek as his thumb traces the outline of my lower lip.

Warmth pools in my belly. If he moved his thumb a bit higher, the touch would be borderline scandalous, a clear indication of attraction. I find myself fantasizing about how I’d react if he did. Would I wrap my lips around his thumb and suck it into my mouth? Would I playfully nip at it with my teeth? Would that be enough of a signal for him to lean down and press his lips––which look surprisingly soft––to mine?

What lonely dark corner of my brain did that thought crawl out of? He’s a machine, I remind myself. A machine. Just a machine. Besides, I have a box of machines that take care of my needs just fine.

“You landed hard on your knees. Do you wish to sit?”

“Um,” I mutter, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, “okay, sure.”

He wraps an arm around my middle and guides me to the old white bench in front of the town hall. It’s weathered and needs a fresh coat of paint, but it’ll do as I try to regain my composure.

Abe’s muscular legs take him away from me as he checks on each sprawled-out, unmoving body. He kicks them both lightly in the ribs. The guy Abe punched in the stomach lets out a pained groan at the impact but doesn’t open his eyes. The one with the face that no longer resembles a face doesn’t move at all.

“This one’s dead,” Abe says in a flat tone as he walks toward the entrance to the building and picks my phone up off the ground. After pressing a few buttons, he holds it to his ear.

I don’t ask him how he unlocked my phone without a passcode. There are more urgent matters to attend to.

“Send Otto to town hall immediately. There’s been an attempted kidnapping. Emma’s fine, but the attackers remain here. Bring a body bag.” He disconnects the call and immediately dials another number. “This is Abe, Emma’s guard. There’s been another attack.”

I’m assuming it’s a member of the committee. How’d he know which number to call?

“We need you here immediately.” He ends the second call in the same terse manner as the first, and then he races back to my side. “What do you need?” he asks, his expression as soft as butter. “Tell me, and I’ll get it for you.”

“Goddamn.” I mean to say it in my head, but it comes out of my mouth. Too much has happened, and apparently my filter is nowhere to be found. What am I supposed to do with a hot man––fine, robot––saving my life, beating two vile men to shit right in front of me, then immediately offering to get me anything I need? My woefully neglected pussy is no match for that kind of behavior. I have a vast collection of toys, sure, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone. A very long time.

His lips form a smile so full it reaches his eyes, and I could swear the purple light that cuts along his cheekbones and jaw glows a bit brighter. “Your heart is racing, Emma.”

My body closes the distance between us. Not all of it, but enough that Abe’s eyes lock onto my lips as I reply, “Can you blame me?”

When Abe leans in an inch and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, all thoughts leave my head. Nothing matters more than how close he is and the warmth of his breath as it fans my face and…smells minty somehow? Is that a special feature Henrik added along with the fake saliva?

“Emma, I––”

The sound of sirens drawing closer breaks the spell between us. Abe rises to his full height, his expression turning serious as he waits for Otto to arrive.

We remain there for over an hour, giving statements to Otto and to Vice Chairwoman Martinez once she arrives. Despite the surviving attacker being cuffed by Otto, the two guards who showed up with the vice chairwoman take custody of him with plans to question him thoroughly once they return to committee headquarters in Vancouver.

“We’ll report our findings to you as soon as we’re able,” Vice Chairwoman Martinez vows.