***

Reid was sitting at her side, waiting for her to awaken when his wristcon buzzed. He glanced down at the screen, noting that the one human guard in his employment had sent him a message, and opened communication.

‘There's a woman out here insisting that she see Clara.’

He messaged back. ‘Who is she?’ A moment later her IP address flooded through and he had all the information he needed.

Marsha Tannett of Pecos PD. He knew of her, having listened in on Clara's phone call that morning. Her file checked out; Marsha was a sworn officer of the law. Why would someone from old Texas be out in no man's desert America? Furthermore, how did the cop know Clara was here? Clara hadn’t disclosed her location.

The image of her scars rose up in his mind. His gaze shifted back to the sleeping beauty breathing softly in the pod next to him. An innocent who had been hurt by the worst of human society, the dregs.

Reid left her side and headed for the gate, annoyed.

“Let her through the first barrier but tell her to wait. I'll be right there.” He was out of the facility, through the parking lot, and past all the inner gates and checkpoints within moments. He smelled Marsha the cop long before he saw her.

Anxiety and fear. He should've known.

Somehow, in one day, he had become embroiled with women who needed his help. Reid sighed. He needed to make this quick so he could get back to Clara’s side before she woke.

A woman in her late thirties stood outside the vehicle. He looked beyond at the border guard and gave him a nod before he addressed the woman.

“Marsha?” He stepped right outside her personal bubble and she took a step back. No protector of the law let a stranger get close. But he had the upper hand, always had and always would.

Cyborgs outranked cops, preprogrammed with the laws that governed Earth and its people, and although he abided by its laws, there were others that took precedence.

The woman’s hand drifted over the gun belt at her hip. “Yes.” Her voice was strained and her lips were dry. “Who are you?”

“I'm in charge of this facility and I've been told you’re here for one of my patients?” He canted his head.

She nodded and peered around them, casting a quick glance back toward the security gate. It was only for a second, but he’d noticed, and before she could meet his eyes again, he turned around and looked where she had.

The dust rolled off in waves far out into the arid wastes beyond and factories and ramshackle buildings dotted the landscape throughout. Reid scanned the horizon.

She’s being watched, tracked... He knew it. The whistle of the desert wind blew across his ears, bringing with it the creeping knowledge that they weren’t alone.

There wasn't another lifeform nearby and it wasn’t the security guard or Clara. And although Marsha didn't have a gun to her head didn't mean she wasn't in trouble. Reid hoped that whatever was watching them knew that he knew. They were on his radar.

She cleared her throat. “What are you looking at?”

“The same thing you were.”

“There's nothing out there—”

“Then why are you here?” he cut her off, turning her way, startling her.

“Sir, I work with the Pecos Police Department and I’ve been in contact with Clara for quite some time—”

“Why?”

She licked her lips and shifted her stance, her legs widening, readying for a standoff. “That's not for me to say. Who are you again? I don't believe I got your name.”

“Does it matter? You're on my ground and you’re a fucking liar. You know what I am right?”

She visibly checked him out and her hands clenched at either side of her waist; the knuckles over her gun were white. “I don't care what you are. My job doesn't concern you. My job concerns the safety of the citizens in my jurisdiction.”

“But we’re not in your jurisdiction and I'm only going to ask you one more time. Why are you here?” Reid said slowly, deliberately.

“Sir—”

In a flash, he grabbed hold of the cop, locked her arms behind her back, and disarmed her of her weapons. Reid let her go. She scrambled back with a gasp and moved to defend herself, but it was too late.

Her gun and the bullets hit the ground at their feet as she spun to get inside her car. He slapped his hand against her door and stopped it from opening, leaving an indent in the middle.

“If this is how you want to play it, we’ll play it.”

“I don't think you understand that you just threatened a cop,” she said in a rush, and he could smell the fear waft between them.

She took a deep breath and he commended her for keeping her cool. “Look,” she said with a shaky breath. “I'm not here to cause problems, and Ms. Warren isn't answering her phone calls. If you allow me to speak to her, we can forget this exchange ever happened, and we’ll both go our separate ways.”

He towered over the woman and watched a single bead of sweat trickle from her hairline and over her forehead. She didn't smell sweet or delectable like Clara, but instead smelled of mint and cold steel, of thousands of hours burned out and wasted in a mediocre job. Easy. The tired are always easy.

Reid changed his demeanor, smiled, and nodded. It put her on edge. “Very well. I'll take you to her.”

He walked toward the building, giving his back to whoever was watching them outside the gate. He heard the cop’s footfalls behind him.

“Thank you... This won't take long.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He let Marsha through the second barricade without a background check. “Clara is recovering from surgery.”

“She's what? Is she okay?”

“Yes, she's okay.”

“She hasn't been hurt, has she?”

“Not unless you count everything she's already been through.” He wondered how much Marsha knew about his breeder.

He glanced back at her. She tensed under his gaze and quickly looked back at the gate. Her movements twitched erratically, worsening with every step she furthered herself from it.

“Unless you count that...”

Reid held open the door to the reception. Marsha looked around with a shudder; her breath hitched. He made no move to enter and blocked the exit. When she got her fill of the quiet, cold place, she noticed she’d been trapped and turned back toward him. “This is a-a cybernetics facility.”

“Yes.”

Her mouth tightened into a straight line and a spark of judgment flashed over her eyes.

He continued, “Who's following you?”

Marsha startled but then stiffened. “I don't know you're talking about.”

“You're in trouble. How is he threatening you?”

She licked her lips again and her hand dropped onto her belt where her weapon had been. “No one's threatening me. Take me to Clara.”

“Is it your family?” Her jaw tightened. That was it; he had her. “Does he have them now?” He held her gaze. “Tell me,” he demanded.

Marsha let out a long, shuddering sigh, deflated and suddenly haunted. “My girlfriend. He has my girlfriend.”

Reid led her further into the room and asked her to sit. He sat across from her. Her face was nothing but grim although no tears showed in her eyes.

“What are the terms? Bring Clara out of here, to him? And you get your girlfriend back?”

She nodded.

Reid leaned back and rubbed his hand over his mouth in thought. His other hand tapped against the armrest. What had he got himself into?

“Do you have any idea where he could be keeping her?”

Her voice was tight, “No, but Santino recently got out of prison and checked into a halfway house in Dallas. Any resources he has would've had to be from someone he knew prior to his imprisonment or someone he met during.”

Reid got up and walked behind the reception desk where he unlocked a drawer and pulled out a bottle of rum. He poured two lowball glasses before retaking his seat and handing one to her. She downed it in one go despite her teeth clanking into the cup. Reid held back a mirthless smile as he downed his own glass.

“Thanks,” she said. He took her glass in response and set it aside.

“Santino?”

“I shouldn't have told you his name, I shouldn't be telling you any of this.” Marsha ran her fingers across her temple. “My commander is going to be furious if he finds out but what am I to do? I'm in trouble regardless.” She shook her head and cringed again. “I can't think straight. I want her back, and until she's back I can't think straight.”

She hadn't answered his question but he let it slide. He was great at reading people, one of the best. He could do it without looking at them, without speaking to them, without hearing them, he could do it—read them just by scenting alone.

His senses were powerful, not only because of the tech inside of him but because of the DNA that was spliced into his cells. There was nothing quite like his sense of smell. His fingers twitched on his thigh. Even now he could smell her, Clara, from across the facility—behind a dozen doors, he could smell her.

Only a day had gone by and her scent made him uncomfortable. It did things to him he wasn’t thrilled about.

She wants me.

He couldn't deny the slick arousal before her surgery and it had taken everything within himself to not shut her mouth with his, peel down her underwear, and slam himself inside of her. His lips twisted. How was he going to survive three months?

“Well, Marsha, I'm afraid I can't let you leave.”

Being a dick came easy to him.