Justin Page 3

  “But I order you to help me.”

  She sounded so desperate that Justin laughed.

  “Tell you what. I’ll level with you.” I’ll sort of lie to you. “I went back up to the Vistara because the last two times I was there, I saw this patroller in the train station. She had pretty brown eyes and hair the color of midnight. I wish she’d let her hair down. I bet it would be beautiful.”

  Deanna’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second. “Don’t bullshit me, Shareem.”

  “No bullshit. I bet your hair really does look good.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  He let his smile go sensual. “Take your hair down. I dare you.”

  “No.”

  Justin leaned forward a little, looking straight into her eyes. “You take it down, and I’ll tell you who I went to see. Promise.”

  *** *** ***

  Deanna chewed her lip, very aware of Justin’s large, warm body inches from hers. No foot-thick plasti-glass to protect her now.

  He was different from what she’d thought he would be—he was smart, with a sense of humor that was almost playful. But the blue filling his eyes as he watched her reminded Deanna that he’d been created in a factory, not born, not quite human.

  Would it be worth it to do what he said? He wasn’t asking for anything sexual, only for her to release her hair. Deanna did that every day when she got home from work anyway. It might be worth it to get a straight answer from him.

  She reached up and touched the clasp that held her bun in place. Justin leaned toward her, as though Deanna taking down her hair was the most important thing in the world to him.

  Deanna slowly released the clasp and let her hair, fine and straight, tumble past her shoulders.

  “Beautiful,” Justin said, voice low, gaze only for her. “Like the swaths of silk I see in the markets. Black silk.”

  Deanna’s breath hitched. “It’s only hair.”

  Justin stretched his arm across the back of the sofa, again stopping shy of touching her. She swore she could feel sparks between his fingers and her skin.

  “It’s beauty,” Justin said. “Why do you hide it?”

  “I can’t do my job with my hair in my face, can I?” Deanna meant to sound stern, but her voice cracked.

  “You wouldn’t need your stun gun. All you’d have to do was smile, and the perps would drop at your feet.”

  What was he talking about? All he had to do was smile, and he’d have women on their knees.

  Justin was smiling now, the little twitch of lips that warmed his eyes and made Deanna’s temperature jump to scalding level. This was dangerous.

  Justin reached out and wound his finger through a strand of her hair.

  “Stop that,” she said.

  Justin took his time about obeying. He smoothed the lock with his fingers, tugged it gently, and finally released it.

  “It feels as beautiful as it looks,” he said.

  Deanna shivered, a deep, soul-licking shiver. “All right, I did what you asked. Now, tell me who you went to the Vistara to see.”

  “Okay, I lied about that part. I’m not going to tell you.”

  “What?” Deanna shoved him aside and jumped to her feet. “But I did what you asked.”

  He opened his hands. “I’m Shareem, sweetie. I seduce. It’s what I do. And I wanted to see what you looked like with your hair down.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I knew you’d be damned sexy.”

  Deanna’s throat tightened. She could almost believe him when he said it like that. Sexy. No one had ever called her that. No one would ever dare.

  But Shareem were masters of seduction, and seduction involved lies. Shareem weren’t supposed to be able to lie . . . but Justin had done it. He’d promised to tell her what she wanted to know and then reneged. Look at him, lounging on the sofa like a decadent god, daring her to take him down for being what he was.

  Deanna started to wind her hair back into its bun, but she dropped the clasp, which clinked on the bare floor. She dove for it at the same time Justin came off the couch and reached for it.

  Their shoulders collided, his a solid wall of muscle, then he steadied her with hands that were incredibly gentle. “You all right?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She gasped. “Don’t touch me.”

  If he didn’t let go, she’d never get to her feet, never regain her balance.

  Justin held onto her even more firmly as he helped her to stand. “You need to be touched, Deanna,” he said. “You’re crying out for it.”

  Deanna stared at him a frozen moment, her body agreeing with him. Warmth tickled between her thighs, and she wanted him to hold onto her and never let go.

  But he only released her and handed her the clip. The sudden absence of his warmth was like being doused in cold water.

  Deanna wound up her hair and snapped the clasp. “I’ll be watching you, Shareem. I’ll find out what you’re up to. You won’t be able to walk outside without tripping over me.”

  His smile flashed. “Promise?”

  The smile made something raw boil up inside her. She had to get out of there.

  Justin made it to the door before she did, slamming his hand to the doorframe. “Don’t be afraid of me, Deanna.” Again, his voice was gentle, coercing.

  Deanna patted her stun gun with a shaking hand. “I’m not afraid. I’m armed.”

  “Seriously. I’d never hurt you.” Justin’s gaze locked to hers. “And thank you.”

  “For what? Coming here to question you?”

  “For letting me see what you look like.”

  Deanna’s answer died on her lips. His body was incredibly warm, his heat like a blanket, and he wasn’t even touching her.

  Deanna punched the control to open the door. They looked at each other for another long moment, something passing between them that Deanna didn’t understand.

  Then Deanna ducked under his arm and walked swiftly out of the apartment. The Bor Nargan sunshine blinded her, but weirdly it felt nowhere near as hot as Justin had.

  Justin didn’t say good-bye. Deanna turned around to discover why not, but the door slammed, and she stood alone in the street, facing blank, rusting metal.

  *** *** ***

  Deanna dreamed about him that night.

  In the dream, she entered a room to find Justin naked and tied to a chair. He sat casually, as he had on the sofa, but now his hands were fastened behind his back, his body stretched out for her to see. His cock was long and straight, fully erect, stretching upward from a cross of ropes.

  “Deanna,” he said in his dark voice. “Let your hair down for me.”

  Without hesitation, Deanna pulled the clasp from the bun. Her hair cascaded, thick and curly, all the way to her feet . . . Well, this is a dream.

  “Thank you,” Justin said. “You’re beautiful. Now, come here.”

  She moved to him, her bare feet sinking into soft carpet. Deanna was wearing little, only a silk sheath over bare skin.

  Justin watched her as she stopped in front of him, his smile spreading. His body was rock hard with muscle, slick with perspiration, and that cock . . . It stood straight up, rising with every breath.

  “Take off your dress,” he said.

  Without argument, Deanna unclasped the silk sheath and let it slide to the floor.

  Justin skimmed his gaze up and down her, eyes hot blue. “Untie me, sweetheart.”

  “No.” Deanna smiled. This was her dream, and she was in charge.

  “Please.” Perspiration wet his forehead. “I want to touch you.”

  “No,” she whispered.

  Her Shareem. Tied up for her. Wanting her.

  Deanna went to him and daringly straddled his thighs, her legs on either side of his. His cock was so big, and dark with wanting, so close . . .

  “Have a seat, baby,” Justin said.

  Should she? She could feel the warmth of him, even in her dream. His breath was hot on her skin. Delectable.

  Deanna could do anything she wanted in this vision, and no one would ever know. It would be her secret passion, her fantasy.

  “Down,” he whispered.

  This was insane. He was the one tied to the chair—Deanna should have all the power. His beautiful body was bound, his muscles tight as he strained against the ropes.

  But Deanna felt compelled to obey him. She sat gingerly down on him, gasping when his cock slid up into her very wet opening.

  Yes.

  Deanna whimpered, but it was a sob of joy.

  Justin lifted his hips, pushing all the way up inside her. Deanna knew it was a dream, but she still felt him, big and hard, reaching into her. Wonderful. She burned, but her sheath was wet and slick.

  Justin watched her, his eyes so blue, the same way he’d watched her when they’d been on his couch. The simple act of him touching her hair had melted every part of her. Hence the dream.

  This hot, fabulous, wicked dream.

  The mad friction drove her on, the sinful look in Justin’s eyes driving her as wild.

  The image began to dissolve, Justin drifting away from her. Deanna was waking up. No.

  She moaned his name as wildness poured over her in waves. She’d never felt anything like it before—darkness and nothing but one point of feeling.

  Deanna gasped and opened her eyes. She lay in the middle of her bed, alone, the sheets shoved aside. One of her hands pressed between her legs, her first two fingers solidly inside her.

  She froze, habitual shame dashing over her. She’d touched herself, brought herself to orgasm. Taboo. Shameful.

  Why? the rebellious part of her demanded. It’s heaven.

  She moved her fingers inside her sheath. The crazy wildness had faded, but the pressure inside her was still hot and satisfying.

  Deanna stroked herself a little longer, calming down, comforting herself. But she knew that her own hands would be nowhere near as comforting as Justin’s.

  Gods, she wanted him. Deanna groaned again, cupping hard between her legs.

  She’d have to live without him. Part of Deanna’s job was to protect other women from Shareem, to make sure the walking sex machines didn’t step out of line. She couldn’t bring Justin to her bed and do her job.

  She’d get over it. She’d make sure Justin stayed off the Vistara, and then she’d move on to other matters and forget about him.

  Forget about him. Sure.

  If she was so determined to forget, why did she imagine Justin’s large, workworn hand pressing hard into her pussy as she drifted back into a troubled sleep?

  *** *** ***

  “Anything?” Justin asked Elisa.

  He stood with her in a small back room of a Pas City library, with Elisa peering at a terminal screen and Braden lounging against the desk. This library didn’t have much in the way of resources, but if anyone could wrest information from the Bor Nargan databases, it was Elisa n’Arell.

  “I’m sorry,” Elisa said at last. “There’s no record anywhere of the woman called Lillian. The last mention of her is of her quitting DNAmo and moving back home, where she obviously is not now. She obviously lived in the apartment with her parents until their death, but then, she’s gone.”

  “Sybellie’s birth was recorded,” Justin said. “And her adoption. Lillian sent me a message about it.”

  He pulled out a plastic strip and held it up, the imprint of the precious message he’d saved. He thanked the gods he hadn’t had it with him when cute little Patroller First Class Deanna Surrell had arrested him.

  “The birth is recorded in a free clinic in the lower end of Pas City,” Elisa said, reading her screen. “The mother didn’t give a name.”

  Braden asked, “Isn’t that illegal on Bor Narga?”

  “Technically, yes,” Elisa said. But the attending medic might have not pressed the issue. Some lower-class women can’t afford to raise a child, so they have them anonymously and give them up. That must have been very hard for Lillian to do.”

  “Yeah. It was.”

  And damn hard for Justin. He’d known that Lillian had been pregnant—she’d told him, and he’d advised her to quit DNAmo before they found out—but he’d been sent off before Lillian had given birth.

  “May I see the message?” Elisa asked. “There might be something in it, if you don’t mind.”

  Justin rubbed the plastic strip with his thumb. “It’s encrypted. We’d figured out a way to send word to each other while she was at DNAmo. Lillian used that code.”

  “We can read it here if you input the key,” Elisa said.

  Justin hesitated. Elisa was right—she might be able to find something Justin hadn’t seen, but it was difficult to hand over the slip. He’d told Elisa and Braden the story, but sharing the message was like sharing a very intimate part of himself.

  Elisa gave him an understanding look as she took the slip and gently fed it into the slot. The computer screen filled with a string of numbers and letters, Lillian’s code.

  Justin leaned over Elisa, tapped in the key to break the code, and stood back as the message revealed itself.

  We have a daughter, healthy and strong. She has been adopted by a family on the Vistara, one that will take good care of her. Be well, my friend. Our daughter is beautiful.

  The screen blurred, and Justin touched the words with his fingertips.

  Elisa studied the screen for a long time, then she keyed it off and removed the card. Her own eyes held tears as she gave it back to Justin.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  Justin tucked the plastic into his pocket, keeping it safe.

  Braden cleared his throat. “I hate to say this, Jus, but maybe you should let it go. Maybe Lillian doesn’t want to be found.”

  “I want to see her,” Justin said stubbornly. “Even if it’s only to tell her that Sybellie is all right, that she’s beautiful.”

  “You need closure,” Elisa said. “Finality.”

  “Yeah.” Justin nodded as he pulled on his sunblocking robes. “That’s it.”

  Braden chuckled. “My librarian, she loves the big words.”

  “Do you think you can find the medic who delivered Sybellie?” Justin asked, ignoring Braden. “Maybe she would have some idea where Lillian had been heading after that.”

  “I can try,” Elisa said. “But the medic might have passed away or off planet by now.”

  “True. But it’s all I’ve got.”

  Elisa patted his arm. “Don’t worry, Justin. I won’t give up. Katarina might be better at talking to the back-street medics. Do you mind if I ask her? I don’t have to tell her specifically why.”

  “Sure.” Justin took a breath. “If I have to bring her in on the secret, I will. Not Calder, though.”

  “Oh, right,” Braden said. “Have a secret with Katarina on the sly, and see what happens to you.”

  “And you’re not possessive about Elisa?” In spite of his sorrow, Justin wanted to grin at his friend. “Look at you hovering around while I’m here.”

  Braden gave a mock snarl and closed his big hands on Elisa’s shoulders. “You keep your furry handcuffs to yourself.”

  “You’re funny, Braden.” Justin leaned down and kissed Elisa’s cheek. “Thanks, Elisa. I owe you.”

  “No, you don’t,” she said. “It’s my pleasure.”

  Justin gave Elisa’s backside a pat, laughed at Braden’s growl of possessiveness, swirled his robes around his shoulders, and left the library through the back door.

  Once out in the sunny street, Justin walked to where Deanna lurked around the corner. He’d seen her follow him from his apartment, and now here she was, waiting for him to come out of the library.

  Justin walked straight at her. Deanna tried to slip out of the alley before he got there, but Justin made it first and blocked her in with his body.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he said. “Imagine running into you.”

  Chapter Four

  Deanna made herself meet his gaze, standing straight and not flinching. “I didn’t realize Shareem liked libraries so much,” she said.

  “We do when our best friend’s girl is the librarian.”

  Justin wouldn’t move. The alley behind her was a dead end, and if Deanna wanted walk out of if, she’d have to push past Justin. She knew that’s exactly what he wanted, so she stayed put.

  “And what were you in the library to look up?” Deanna asked.

  He gave her a deadpan look. “Weather cycles in the Sand Sea. Maybe.”

  “Don’t B.S. me. I can always get a warrant.”

  “I was there to visit my friends,” he said. “That’s all, sweetheart. Nothing illegal about that.”

  “You can visit them in that Shareem bar.”

  “Judith’s? Sure, but my librarian friend can’t always get away. She’s nice. You’d like her.”

  Deanna tried a disdainful look but couldn’t quite manage it. “She consorts with Shareem.”

  “Consorts.” Justin laughed. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days? She lives with Braden, sure. I bet they have lots of sex. In fact, I know they do. I’ve seen them at it.”

  Deanna gaped at him. “Seen them? That’s—” She wasn’t sure how to feel about it. “—not right.”

  “A little voyeurism never hurt anyone, as long as everyone knows it’s happening. You should try it sometime.”

  “No.”

  “No?” Justin was somehow closer to her without her realizing he’d moved. “All right, then, what do you like to do?”

  “Nothing. I mean, you shouldn’t talk about things like that.”

  “I’m Shareem. I was bred to talk about things like that. Some people talk about politics—the gods know why. I talk about sex.”

  “Not to a patroller.”

  “Why not?” How did he get even closer? Justin’s body heat enveloped her like a blanket, even under the scorching sun.

  “If you want to follow me around,” he said, “then you have to put up with what you get. Tell you what—instead of following me, walk with me, and I’ll show you what I do all day.”

  All day. Walking with him strong and tall beside her, exuding that sexual charm.

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