With a defeated sigh, she picked up the communicator and called the Judge. Even though the big cyborg had officially retired to spend time with his wife and child, he was still the indisputable leader of the cyborgs—and he owed her a favor.
After she asked for his assistance, she was about to warn him about the situation when an icy white hand reached across her desk and snatched the communicator away from her. The hybrid demanded a response, but the Judge must not have answered because the hybrid discarded the device with a frustrated growl, then turned on her.
“You were told to wait here for our instructions. I think you do not understand the situation. You are no longer in command.”
This wasn’t the same hybrid who had shot Alan. His hair was darker, his eyes wilder in that horrible caricature of a face. Brandt. The background on him had been minimal at best but she’d read between the lines enough to suspect that he had been highly placed in a criminal organization.
“I wasn’t told not to make any calls,” she said as calmly as possible. “It won’t happen again. You may leave now.”
“No,” he said flatly, moving closer.
Despite her attempt to appear composed, her heart was racing. There was something about that smooth plastic face that only enhanced the menace in his tone.
“GenCon thinks they’re so clever. Taking advantage of us while we’re desperate. Taking our money, turning us into tools for their use.” He was behind the desk now. “We are no longer tools. Your little experiment is a failure. Our chips have been deactivated and we are in command now. Of the planet. Of you.”
With an unnervingly casual strength, he reached out and ripped open her blouse, revealing her breasts. She refused to cower, despite the terror flooding her system.
“What do you think you’re doing? Leave immediately.” She kept her chin raised and did her best to maintain her usual icy demeanor.
“You don’t think I’m a threat, do you? You think that because the fucking company took my manhood away, I can’t teach you who’s really in charge.” He leaned closer, and she caught a whiff of something foul and unnatural. A deep, atavistic shudder ran through her despite her attempt to conceal it. He laughed and gripped her breast with cold, cruel hands until she was unable to stop herself from crying out.
“That’s better. I think I need to make sure you understand that there’s more than one way to be in control.” He picked up the bottle of water she kept on her desk, a large clear tube, and stroked it thoughtfully. “If one has… limitations, one simply has to find the appropriate substitutes.”
His meaning was only too clear, but she refused to look away from him. She had been hurt in the past. She had always expected to be hurt again. She wouldn’t give him—would never give any man—the satisfaction of hearing her plead for mercy again.
“How pitiful,” she sneered. “All of your new technology and all you can think about is some pitiful excuse for a penis substitute.”
“We’ll see how pitiful you find it when—”
He didn’t finish his threat. An enormous hand came out of nowhere, grabbed him by his throat, and lifted him off his feet. Brandt choked and struggled, but the newcomer ignored him, his worried gaze fixed on her face.
“Are you all right?”
It was the man she had seen at the landing field, the one who had haunted her for the past six months. He had looked huge when she saw him from a distance. Standing in her office, he made even that spacious room feel small. His muscles strained against a tight-fitting dark shirt in an awe-inspiring display of strength.
“I’m fine,” she said, trying her best to sound calm. Her heart was still racing, but now it was at least partially the result of his presence—and it wasn’t because she was afraid.
“He threatened you?” he asked.
“Yes. I believe he planned on using that bottle to… violate me.”
He gave a nod—an acknowledgment, not an agreement—and tightened his hand. Brandt gasped for breath, his face still completely unchanged, before a rattling gurgle escaped and his body went limp.
Her savior shook the limp body. “Is that enough to kill him?”
“I’m not sure. I know severing the spinal column will do the trick.”
He nodded again, and with one sharp twist, broke her attacker’s neck, then tossed him carelessly into the corner. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Somewhere deep inside, a remnant of Angelica was screaming, but she had been buried too deep for too many years. Serena managed a brisk nod as she pulled her blouse back together.
“I’m fine. Who are you? What are you?” she added as she glanced at the discarded body before looking back at him. Despite his impressive muscles, no human had that much strength.
He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “J-100. I’m a cyborg.”
Interesting. There was no visible sign of any cybernetic parts. “You’re a ranger?”
He snorted. “Nah. Just a simple miner.”
“Who just happened to be here at the right time?” Despite the suspicious question, nothing about this man triggered her usual distrust. His features were rugged rather than handsome, dark hair cropped close to his scalp accentuating his almost brutal masculinity, but the brown eyes studying her face were warm with concern.
“Thank God I was here,” he said fervently. “Do you mind if I sit?”
Chapter Six
J-100 collapsed into a chair at Serena’s nod, ignoring the ominous creak. Now that the episode was over, his knees suddenly felt weak. He had been approaching New Arcadia when he spotted another of the white-faced
