Chapter Fourteen
Beth pored over a list of equipment and supplies she’d ordered for the Summit. The tour of Luna Center had been very helpful. Marrying her visual image of the facility with the virtual layout provided a much clearer idea of the requirements. After her unfortunate encounter with the wrong end of a photon blaster, she didn’t need to be reminded of the importance of details when it came to security. An assassin had been sneaked on site when it had been almost vacant. How easy would it be to disappear amongst a packed crowd?
Serving as support staff to the men and women who put themselves in harm’s way to protect others, she was just a key-puncher inputting orders electronically, but she drew purpose and pride from the job. I’m doing my part to keep the galaxy safe.
Her small role opened her eyes to bigger possibilities. Being shot hadn’t scared her away from security work. The opposite. A desire for a more active, involved role had germinated. She aspired to do more than sit behind a desk and order equipment.
She’d love to read the results of Cornelius’s autopsy, but she didn’t know who to ask and suspected no one would tell her anything without Carter or Brock’s say-so anyway.
And Carter wasn’t here. Neither was Brock.
After whisking her away to his private penthouse, kissing her until her toes curled, wining and dining her, Carter had vanished. Not like abracadabra disappeared, but he’d poked his head into her work station the next morning and informed her an assignment would take him away for several days.
“Anything I can help with?” she’d asked. Knowing the attraction was mutual had changed everything. At the mere thought of his absence, she’d begun to miss him already.
“Not this time,” he said.
“It’s nothing dangerous, I hope,” she’d joked.
“No more than usual.” His grin fell short of his eyes. “We’ll get together when I return.” After checking they were alone, he pressed a quick, hard kiss to her mouth and left.
In four days, she’d had no contact and had begun to become concerned. She’d pulled up the employee incident reports and tried to find reassurance in the data proving that few Aym-Sec employees had ever been shot while on duty. She held the honor of being one of the notable few. What happened to me was a freak occurrence. Still, she couldn’t help but worry. Was Carter okay? Why hadn’t he tried to contact her?
“Beth?” An administrative assistant peered at her from around the wall. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Lost in thought.” She smiled. “What’s up?”
“A delivery came for you.”
“Oh no. Not here!” Equipment was supposed to go to Luna Center. The first snafu! Well, she’d expected to have some.
“Yes, here.” The assistant stepped out from behind the wall and produced a huge bouquet of flowers. He grinned. “Somebody has a secret admirer. And big credits to send real ones instead of a florogram.” He placed the bouquet on her desk.
A pleasurable, guilty heat flooded her face, and she realized she must be blushing like crazy. After agreeing to keep their professional and private lives separate, Carter had sent her flowers. What would everyone think? But pleasure suffused her. He was thinking of her!
After the assistant left, she shut the door for privacy. Nobody had sent her flowers before. Of course, she’d never had a beau, and real flowers, especially alien varieties like these, were so expensive, even the O’Sheas had supplemented their floral décor with the hologram variety. A holo lasted as long as you kept the program running, and you couldn’t tell the difference until you leaned in for a sniff.
She bent to inhale the fragrance of the stunning blooms and spotted a holostick tucked inside the bouquet. Carter had sent her a message, too! She flicked on the switch and smiled as she waited for the program to load. Particles swirled like dust motes in a twister then darkened and materialized into…Benson? Disappointment knocked the grin from her face.
“Hello, Beth,” the recorded hologram spoke. “If you’re watching this, I trust you received the flowers. I hope you’re feeling well and have recovered from the…incident. I feel responsible for having hired Cornelius, and I won’t rest until I know everything is well.
“I’d intended to send flowers earlier, but you’re a difficult lady to reach! It was quite challenging to get the coordinates for Aym-Sec HQ and then convince the florist to deliver to an address that didn’t officially exist…but I prevailed.” Benson winked.
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you I regret”—a glitch in the program caused the sound and image to skip—“happened. I can’t undo what occurred, but be assured, I will follow through with my promise to implement the highest level of security available. It’s the least I can do after what happened. Again, it was a pleasure meeting you, and I look forward to seeing you again under better circumstances.”
The holo sizzled and evaporated.
She sighed. It was considerate of the secretary general to inquire of her welfare and send flowers. On the other hand, it made her a little uncomfortable. What if there was more to it? What if Benson had taken an interest in her?
She leaned against her desk and gnawed on a fingernail, glad Carter wasn’t here to see the gift. She’d sensed a competition between the two men. The secretary general’s message had sounded innocent. There’d been no suggestive tone, no insinuation. His words had been innocuous. Legit. However, the flowers were so extravagant.
She clicked the start button on the holostick to replay the message so she could better analyze it, but nothing happened. She clicked again. Nothing. Darn it. Some holograms were recorded as single play.
I’m reading too much into the flowers. I should accept them at face value, a thoughtful gesture, and let it go.
Not for the first time, she wished she had more life experience.
* * * *
Beth grabbed her lunch from the replicator and marched to an empty table rather than join anyone. She wasn’t fit for company, didn’t feel like engaging in small talk when she missed Carter so much. Besides which, she feared she might start pumping employees for information about him. It would blow the cover of discretion if she appeared personally interested in the big boss. And if those two reasons weren’t enough to warrant sitting alone, she couldn’t forget the “visual enhancements” some of the employees had. Some of these people had seen her naked. Her face heated in remembrance. Thankfully, Carter had intervened. Her hero.
Whom she missed. If she’d had an idea when he would return or had contact from him in the interim, his absence might have been easier to bear.
She slid into a chair and eyed the unappetizing meal: reconstituted gluey chicken salad on brown paper-like bread. What did they used to call that stuff? Cardboard? She picked up the apple. Organic, but bruised and mushy. She thunked it on the table.
“You’re going to hurt the apple’s feelings if you keep scowling.”
Beth looked up to see Dr. Swain smiling at her.
“It doesn’t deserve to be called an apple,” she said.
“May I join you?”
“Have a seat.” She gestured to an empty chair.
“Feeling better?” he asked. “Effects of the photon blast all gone?”
“Back to my normal self,” she replied.
“Glad to hear it. The paralysis from a stunning shot is temporary, but recovery varies from person to person.”
She bit into her sandwich. It tasted as unappetizing as it appeared. The doctor had a couple of bars that looked like a compacted mix of pea-sized black rocks and sand. “What are those?” she asked.
“NutriSup. A nutritionally balanced blend of protein, fiber, and calories, laboratory developed and tested for maximum health benefits—and minimum enjoyment.” He gestured at her sandwich. “Still better than that.”
“I don’t understand it. The food prepared by the replicator at the penthouse was delicious. Top-notch.” Since Swain had made a house call to examine her, she wasn’t revealing any big secret to admit she and Carter had had dinner together. The toe-curling kisses she would keep to herself, however.
“Cheap replicators produce cheap food. When it comes to security, no cost is spared, but the replicators were ordered by supply department bean counters.” He bit off a piece of his NutriSup and made a face. “You could change it.”
“Me? How?”
“Order a new one! As logistics coordinator, don’t you oversee the supply department?”
She blinked. “I guess I do.” Someone else ordered those kinds of things, but that person reported to her.
Swain leaned in. “You get the employees better chow, and you’ll have every one of them eating of your hand—so to speak.” He chuckled.
“I’ll do it!” She eyed the NutriSup. “Are those really better than this sandwich?”
“Marginally, but yeah.”
“I’ll get one of those instead. Excuse me for a moment?”
“Sure.”
She pushed away from the table and grabbed her tray. She’d dump the mess and get a NutriSup. By close of business, a new replicator would be on its way. She’d taken six steps when a blinding, white-hot pain shot through her skull. The tray clattered to the floor. Lunch room conversation faded away. Her field of vision narrowed to a pinpoint. She tumbled toward the floor as everything went black.