Chapter Nineteen

A pajama-clad Brody padded into the main room. “When’s Mike coming home?”

“He’s not.” Dinner with her son had been strained. He’d been disappointed Mike wouldn’t be joining them, but recovered, chattering away until he picked up from her monosyllabic replies and untouched meal that something was wrong. He’d gone silent then, too, sending her questioning looks.

“Not tonight or not at all?” he persisted.

Not ever. How could he have done those things? “Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes.” He sighed.

“Go to bed, then, please.”

“What about a bedtime story?”

“Not tonight. I’m tired.” She rubbed her eyelids, her head throbbing from a tension headache. Her stomach roiled.

“Can I read?”

“All right.”

“Did my books on cyborgs come in at the library? ”

“Go to bed, now!” she snapped.

His lower lip quivered.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry.” She hugged him, guilt stinging her. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m…” There was no excuse. None of this was his fault. She’d brought an assassin into their family and closed her eyes to all the signs that didn’t add up. Mike had tried to talk about his past, but she’d been so besotted, she’d refused to listen. How stupid could she have been?

But would he have told me everything? She doubted he would have confessed to being a coldhearted killer. I’m a murderer. Would you like some wine?

“Are you sad because Mike’s not here?” Her son knew where to stick the knife.

She’d always been honest with Brody. To protect him, she didn’t share everything—but she never outright lied to him. “Yes, I’m sad because Mike’s not here.”

“But he’s coming back, isn’t he?”

“We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay?” Delaying the inevitable wouldn’t solve anything, but she couldn’t handle his tears right now. He’d become attached to Mike. If she told him he’d never see him again, he’d cry all night. Having her son grieve would be too much for her shattered heart to bear.

He looked doubtful, but he allowed her to lead him to bed.

Once she got him settled, she collapsed on the sofa, only to jump up, too distraught to sit. A suffocating silence closed in. Hugging herself, she paced the tiny living room, her gaze darting to the door.

If he was going to come, he would have come already.

Maybe. Unless he’s waiting to catch me off guard, to pounce while I sleep.

None of the cabins had locks on the effing doors. No locks could keep out a cyborg. Upon leaving the library, she’d raced to the ranch office, but Phibious had left the ranch for the day. School had been getting out. Still in panic mode, she’d rushed Brody to the cabin.

They were trapped on Haven. If Phibious had been available, he could have sent them to another settlement—or maybe taken Mike into custody.

Fortunately, Mike hadn’t come after her. At dinner, she’d worried she’d run into him at the mess hall, but she didn’t .

It appeared he was honoring her request not to show his face again.

Not what she expected of a cyborg assassin.

Nothing about him fit her mental profile of a cold-blooded killer. How could a sweet, charming, loving man, so patient with a little boy, have committed such heinous acts? This proved you couldn’t judge a person on appearance. Serial killers could be baby-faced handsome, and men with menacing countenances could be wonderful people. Actions counted. Behavior.

Except, even his behavior had been false. He’d pretended to be human, a decent person.

She’d never forget the shock and horror of seeing his face on that broadcast. She’d grappled for an explanation other than the obvious. WLIE is wrong; they’re lying; it’s disinformation. The news media had devolved into the propaganda arm of the deep state. If you wished to tune in and check out, fill your head with a dose of celebrity pablum, fine and good, but you couldn’t trust reports of anything important or substantial. But would the media outlet have fabricated such a brazen falsehood? They had to have some limits, didn’t they?

But her gut didn’t lie, and it said the reports were true. She didn’t want to believe it. Her mind whirled with a way to rationalize it and make it okay. Mistaken identities, maybe? Or had Mike and Steel run afoul of the government, and the political machine sought to neutralize them?

Occam’s razor said the simplest explanation was most likely true.

Mike and Steel were cyborg assassins. They had killed the mayor and everyone in her office.

He tried to tell me at the hot spring. He’d asked her if she’d heard of Solutions. That was the company mentioned in the WLIE broadcast. The one he worked for, that he’d served. They made me , he’d said.

Made him what? Kill people? Execute the mayor and her staff?

He’d denied doing that. He’d admitted killing people, but he had denied participating in the massacre.

Or had he meant something else by the comment? Cyborgs were bioengineered. Perhaps he’d meant Solutions had created him. She’d never know because she’d cut him off. Nor had she let him talk at the library. She’d been too horrified, terrified, her only concern getting away as fast as possible.

He’d looked crushed. Devastated. Like he’d lost everything in the world .

More lies. Trying to sway her with pity.

He was so freaking good at it. So convincing. She’d believed he loved her as much as she loved him. She still loved him, but she needed to be smart, think with her head and not her shattered heart, to protect her son and herself.

What am I going to do? Should she report him? That’s what she’d intended when she’d run to Phibious. Since he hadn’t been there, she’d had time to consider the consequences.

Cyborgs were banned. At the very least, Mike would lose his sanctuary. She’d gotten accepted because she was his wife. Would she lose her asylum, too? There was a warrant out for her arrest. If she set foot on Earth, she’d be prosecuted for kidnapping, and Brody would be taken from her. And what about Honoria? Verity didn’t know the particulars of the other woman’s situation, but Steel would be ejected, and she might lose her asylum.

It’s such a mess. More than a mess, a tragedy. She hugged herself. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe there’s a good explanation. I didn’t hear his side. She choked. How could there be another side to this that would make it better ?

Honoria had said Steel and Mike were good guys. But perhaps she doesn’t know the truth.

She had to talk to him. Get more information direct from the source.

But not tonight. I can’t handle any more tonight. A sudden wave of weariness wrought by grief, shock, and fear threatened to knock her over. Maybe an answer will come tomorrow. She gave a snort of bitter laughter.

She staggered to the bedroom, and, still clothed, tumbled onto the bed. Hugging Mike’s pillow to her chest, she sobbed.