I pull the wire out of my wrist and slide it into the port beneath the screen. Data transfer symbols appear, overlaying the room I’m looking at as my system updates.

I’d set my custom software to work before I left earlier today, gathering intel on Rega and on Athena. I place my chair so I’ve got an easy view of the room but mostly focused on the door behind which she is sleeping.

While the data transfers happen, I set a diagnostic subroutine to running too. Something is wrong with my system, and I need to figure out what it is. There’s no reason I should be feeling what I am. Every time I look at her, there’s an ache deep in my chest and a growing sense of need.

It’s been so many years since I felt anything like this, it took me a while to figure it out. Somehow, she’s getting to me. Knowing who, and more importantly what, she is that is dangerous. She was, no is, the best. A psi-agent with no peer. Infiltrating is second nature to her, and she has every skill to worm her way under a target’s skin.

Except she doesn’t remember it. I’m certain of that, or as certain as I can be of anything right now.

Athena. In my bedroom. Sleeping. What is the galaxy coming to?

A flash draws my attention to my eye monitors, and I select the highlighted point. Jaxor Vinasha, my next target as I work my way up the line of Rega’s outfit. Two commands and the software starts tracing his patterns. No later than in the morning, I’ll have a report that will let me track him down.

Good. Now what about her?

My attention remains on that closed door. Can I trust her? No. I can’t.

I’m not stupid. She is what she is. Even if she doesn’t remember it right now, she will. I’m not going to be sideswiped by her when she does. Remaining wary is only good sense. Some small, deep feeling keeps pushing that she won’t betray me. A glimmer of hope, and maybe it’s true. I’ll have to wait and see.

Inara squawks and flutters her wings.

“Yes?” I ask, scratching the back of her head.

She moves up and down under my hand, pressing against me until I find the spot where she wants the attention.

“Needy beast,” I mutter.

She caws softly, and I continue scratching, letting the night pass while I wait.

As the nebula fades in the night sky and the sun rises, I hear a scraping sound. I plop my chair back down onto all four legs, but I don’t rise, not wanting to appear threatening.

The door opens and Athena steps out. My heart skips a beat. She’s beautiful.

Short hair standing up off her head, eyes heavy with sleep, marks of the pillow still impressed into her cheek. She smiles, a tentative, shaky thing, and an urge to cross the room and take her in my arms flashes through me.

It’s stupid, a terrible idea on too many levels to consider, so I crush it. We stare at each other for what seems like a small eternity. I can’t read her. My system collects data, but it’s not adding up to how she’s feeling. Her heart rate, breaths per second, blood pressure, even measurements of her sweat.

It doesn’t tell me what she’s thinking, though. What is happening behind those stormy eyes. Strangely, I want to know. I want to know her thoughts, know what has happened to her, how she got here. More than that, I want to fix it for her.

By the blackest void I’m a fool.

“Shower?” she asks, looking around.

Swallowing, I force the lump out of my throat so I can answer her.

“Over there,” she follows my nod and goes through the indicated door. In moments I hear the sound of water, and it isn’t long before steam is seeping out the door.

It gives me a moment to collect myself that I desperately need. No one, ever, has affected me like she is. Pulling up the submenu I look over the diagnostic report.

Nothing.

It has to be wrong. She’s getting to me, somehow. There has to be something I’m missing. Adjusting the parameters, I set it to run again.

I go into the kitchenette and flip through the screens, trying to decide what to offer for breakfast. Coffee first, so I hit the button and the replicator hums. The scent of the fresh coffee fills the room, and I place the cups on the table.

The door to the shower opens, so I turn around to ask her what she would like, but my mouth goes dry and words won’t come.

Beads of water drip from her cheeks onto her shoulders then run down towards the exposed cleavage. She has a towel wrapped around her but her perfect cleavage holds my attention until her shapely legs draw my eyes. She seems oblivious to the effect she is creating. She reaches behind her to grab a second towel and absently dries her hair.

The lines of her body are perfect. Firm, muscular, but keeping a softness that doesn’t let you forget she’s a woman.

She’s caught me staring. She arches an eyebrow, then sways across the room and takes the cup of coffee.

“Problem?” she asks, pursing her full, luscious lips and blowing across the steaming liquid.

“Uh, no,” I say, shaking myself back under control. “Breakfast?”

She smiles, a knowingness shining in her eyes.

“No,” she says, “this is fine.”

“Okay,” I say, listening to my heart pounding in my ears, and only then do I realize that my cock is raging hard.

“Let me dress, then you can brief me,” she says, turning away.

She walks to the bedroom. No, she glides to the bedroom like an angel moving without actually moving, yet still her hips have that oh-so-feminine sway to them, and her full, curvy ass holds my attention. As she steps through the door she pauses. It’s a moment, nothing more, but it takes all my will to not leap across the space between us and take her. Make her mine in every way imaginable.

Shutting down those thoughts and feelings hard, I grit my teeth and consider punching myself in the face. What kind of fool am I? Inara squawks as if asking the same question.

“You shut up,” I mutter to the AI bird.

She opens and closes her wings, bobbing her head, as if daring me to bring it. I need to look at her programming. She’s getting too damn smart for her own good. Before anything more can happen, Athena walks out of the bedroom.

She’s wearing pants and a pullover hoodie. Her short hair is mostly dry and looks purposefully messy. Even dressed as she is, as non-descript and decidedly unsexy as possible, my cock throbs with desire for her.

She moves with grace and intention, the way a leopard is graceful, with a coiled power that you know could kill you with a lazy flick of its paw. It makes me want her all the more.

“What you got?” she asks, taking a seat across from me.

“Our goals are the same,” I say.

“Somehow I doubt that,” she says, watching me with cautious eyes.

She’s tense, on the edge of her seat, ready to move in any direction at the first sign of any danger. No woman has ever made me feel what I am feeling now. My life in the Service wasn’t conducive to relationships and eventually I swore off them. No woman could understand what my life was like. As more and more of me was replaced by the very same Service, it became easier to ignore or downright forget desire.

I was fine with that. I’d like to have that back now.

“Allow me to clarify,” I say, studying her face and memorizing every perfect line. “The source of our problems is the same.”

“Go on,” she says, placing her elbows on the table and leaning towards the monitor.

I tap the screen and files come up and go at my quick hand gestures. She takes them in fast. Faster than anyone without enhancements could ever achieve. When at last there is a side-by-side photo showing the men who attacked her in the subway beside security clearance ID’s for Rega she leans back in the chair and nods.

“What now?” she asks.

One more tap of the monitor and the image changes to Jaxon Vinasha.

“Him,” I say. “We put a tracker on him then follow him up the food chain.”

She purses her lips and nods.

“Right, let’s go,” she says, standing up.

Even more reason to like her. No questions when the course is clear before us. I stand up too, and we head out.

“Holden!” Strek yells from behind us as we walk to the lift.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see he’s huffing his way down the hall.

“Strek,” I say.

“Where you going? Can I help? I helped last time. Oh, here’s your jacket, Mom fixed it for you, so yeah, can I come along?”

Strek strings words together in one long-winded blast that’s hard to follow. He’s holding out my jacket and showing it’s all fixed.

Athena watches him with a bemused smile on her face.

“Strek…”

“Oh, come on, Holden, I was a big help, I will be again, you know I will!”

He argues before I get the words out of my mouth. I glance at Athena. She shrugs and shakes her head to indicate she doesn’t care.

“Fine,” I say.

Strek bounces from foot to foot then jumps and disappears. He reappears at the end of the hallway.

“I’ll be right back! Gotta get my bag!” He races to the door to his apartment.

“Friend of yours?” Athena asks.

“Neighbor,” I say.

Close connections aren’t something I cultivate, and that includes Strek, though he’s worked his way in somehow. I like the kid. His enthusiasm is contagious. Before I can say any more, Strek appears out of nowhere, jumping right in front of us.

“This is going to be great,” he says, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

He looks from me to Athena, his blue-grey cheeks turning pink. His eyes go back and forth several times while Athena watches, until it dawns on me I haven’t introduced the two of them, and he’s waiting for me to. Judging from the way he’s sweating and the beating of his heart, he’s also crushing on her. Apparently, she has that effect on boys.

“Strek, this is Athena,” I say.

“That’s not my name,” she snaps, tensing and glaring.

“What do you call yourself?” I ask, taken aback but trying to play it cool.

“Cersei,” she says.

There’s something about the way she says it, like it’s the only thing she has that’s hers. She holds a hand out to Strek.

“Strek,” he says, taking her hand while staring at his feet and blushing harder.

His heart pounds and he shivers when their hands touch. Great, a teenage crush should make this job that much more interesting.

The ride on the lift down is quiet and awkward. Only after we’ve melded into the ever-present crowds on the promenades does the tension seem to lift. Probably because we’re both busy scanning for threats.

“Where?” she asks.

“Pleasure district,” I say. “He runs one of the brothels, should be arriving about the same time we get there.”

Athena nods. No, not Athena. Cersei. It’s obvious she wants to leave her past behind. Is that by her choice, or by whoever decided to wipe her memories? Did she make the choice to have it done? If so, why? If not her, then who?

Questions circle, too many of them, but I push them all aside. Losing focus on a mission is stupid and a good way to get killed.

It doesn’t take long to reach our destination and then I have to find a spot to fire the tracker from. The buildings here are multistory and the one across from the brothel has balconies dotting the front. Nodding towards it I walk in and after a quick bit of haggling rent a room. The patron keeps trying to add a party-girl to the ticket and only when I agree to pay the fee without the girl do we come to an agreement.

The room has a faint odor that’s less than pleasant. Strek wrinkles his nose but doesn’t say anything. I head for the double doors on the opposite side and open them up just enough to look out. We’re barely in time. He’s walking up to the place right now.

I pull the synthetic gun out of an inside jacket pocket, take aim, and pull the trigger. He slaps his arm, cursing. I watch as he inspects the insertion point, but he doesn’t dig into it. Good. He assumes it was an insect, exactly what I want.

“Done,” I say.

Cersei walks out of the room first.

“That’s it?” Strek asks, disappointment in his voice.

“Yeah,” I say, “let’s go.”

“That offer of food still stand?” Cersei asks over her shoulder.

“Sure,” I say.

“Me too?” Strek asks, brightening.

“Of course,” I say, shaking my head.

What am I going to do, tell the kid to take a hike?

Cersei picks out a sidewalk café that’s not too full. She asks the waiter that we be given a table close to the wall, then takes a seat with her back to it and an easy view of the street in both directions. I take the seat next to her and position myself similarly. Strek sits across from us, oblivious.

A small monitor in the middle of the table shows the menu and we each order, then I scan my wrist bracelet to pay for the meals.

“What have you been doing?” I ask Cersei by way of small talk.

She looks at me for a long moment, plush lips closed on the straw she’s sipping. My cock suddenly rages to life, straining to break free. I ignore it the best I can.

“Working,” she says.

“Where?” I ask.

“Club on the upper strip, tending bar,” she answers, remaining cryptic.

“I’ve been to a lot of those clubs,” Strek says. “They’re fancy.”

The waiter, an alien with three eyes across his otherwise human appearance, brings our food, interrupting the conversation while he places plates in front of each of us. He remains standing there after the dishes are served, staring.

A tingle runs down my spine as the system goes into defensive mode, ready for him to attack, but he remains standing, staring with three unblinking eyes. I glance at Cersei to see if she’s alarmed too, but she looks at him, then tastes the food.

“Hmm, good,” she says, nodding to the waiter around the mouthful of food.

He smiles brightly, bows, then leaves. I give the entire area a thorough scan before I deactivate the defenses the system brought online, no point in not being careful. Nothing stands out, so I let it go and set about eating the food.

“Wow, this is so exciting,” Strek says. “You didn’t tell me you had another partner.”

He looks at Cersei who smiles. Strek blushes deep pink. It’s an effort to not roll my eyes, but at the same time, what right do I have to judge his teenage crush? I’m experiencing my own feelings for her too.

“Yeah, well,” I say, stretching for something to answer him. “Have to play some things close to the vest.”

Cersei arches an eyebrow then nods her agreement.

“You know how it is,” she says, playing along.

She eats with an enthusiastic gusto that leaves little time for conversation. Strek stares at her like he’s seeing color for the first time. I eat slower than either of them. The lull gives me time to study her. She is a beautiful woman, almost too perfect. The slightest flaws, a hump in her nose where it’s been broken and reset, a tooth that sits slightly crooked, only add to her beauty. They make her… human. Attainable, for without them she really would be akin to a god. An unachievable beauty that any man would consider beyond his reach.

My cock, which had finally subsided, pulses, demanding it be set free. It seems I need to add a subroutine to my system to get the damn thing under control. The moment is broken when Strek’s phone blares loudly with a screeching, ear-splitting noise.

His eyes widen, his mouth drops open, and he shakes his head.

“Oh no,” he exclaims, grabbing it. “By the void, oh, sorry.”

He apologizes to Cersei for swearing as he jumps to his feet, shaking.

“Problem?” I ask.

“Mom,” he says, staring at the phone. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.”

“It’s fine,” I smile.

He stops jittering, salutes me, then turns a shy smile to Cersei.

“So nice to… meet you…” he says, stumbling over his words.

“You too Strek,” she says, graciously.

He smiles then runs four steps before he ports away.

Now I’m alone with her. An uncertainty gnaws at me as to whether or not this is a good thing. I’ve never, in all my years, wondered at my ability to maintain my self-control, until now. That of course makes me worry that she’s fooling me, using her infiltration techniques to manipulate me.

Despite the fact I’ve run diagnostics multiple times and I don’t believe it, it’s a concern. She’s the best of the best, and I can’t blindly deny that fact. I’m not a fool, and I won’t be played as one.

We finish our food in silence, and she turns her chair, staring out across the promenade. Crowds of last-minute tourists pass, creating a white noise of conversation and moving bodies. She looks over, catching me staring at her. Our eyes lock, and there’s an instant heat between us. I see it in her as much as I feel it in myself.

She swallows, purses her lips, then stands up.

“I need a drink,” she says, walking away without another word.

I’m captivated watching her walk away then, as if by gravity, I’m pulled along with her.