My Cyborg Savior (Crimson Romance) (4 page)

Her file said she’d found her mother after she’d committed suicide. That must have done something to her. Before that she’d supposedly been the model of the perfect daughter, on her way to a high powered government job. She’d had her pick of colleges if she’d chosen to go. But he noticed she never smiled. In those pictures before her mother’s suicide, she was as stoic as her father. After, at least she’d pretended to smile. Even if it never reached her eyes. In fact, he couldn’t recall a single picture in her file where her smile lit her face. It was all pretend. He felt sorry for her. In spite of having a shit life, at least he’d had some happiness, before the government took it all away. Since then, all he’d seen was blood and death and a corrupt system that now wanted him, and everyone like him — those cyborgs they couldn’t control — dead.

He took a deep breath.
That’s right. Remember why you’re here. Don’t get sucked into this girl’s problems. You have your own. You’re trying to save lives. Ignore her.

But he couldn’t. Not entirely. “What did I say to upset you? I expected you to get pissed and even with me, not sulk.”

She lifted her head and met his gaze. There was a flash of fire in her eyes and he couldn’t fight down a surge of triumph. He couldn’t stand it when he could cow people. He wanted her to fight back, even if it made his job that much harder. In spite of cyborgs being designed to subjugate people, they seemed to prefer it when people argued and fought back. Part of them always looked for a challenge — especially when it came to potential mate. Only people with fire would be any fun. It was probably more basic than that. Only tough women would create strong children. He restrained a growl. Dammit, he wasn’t looking for a mate. He wasn’t willing to risk his dick to possess her. She was needed to achieve their goals. That was all.

“I’m always an obligation for my father, but I don’t give a damn what you think of me, Galen. I’m your job. It’s your job to protect me. I’m the only thing you have to worry about aside from dying if you fail. I happen to have a life, and I intend to keep on living it no matter what you say or think. I’m not your problem. You might even earn your freedom if you’ll stop bitching and keep me alive. Now shut up. I’d like to spend the rest of this journey in peace.” She spat at him.

He arched an eyebrow as she buckled her harness, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes. So it hadn’t been the bitch comment. Her outburst brought half a dozen questions to his mind. “Has your father really called you a burden?”

She frowned, but didn’t open her eyes. “Yes. Many times. Me and Mother both. We weren’t proper enough. No matter what my mother did, she couldn’t please him. She had darker skin, and spoke with an accent she couldn’t shake. She was born on Earth, you know? In a place they used to call Turkey. War destroyed all governments on Earth, but she’d still point out her country on an old map. She always said she would love to show me the ancient architecture. Some ruins still stand from those times. Or at least they were standing last time she was there. But I’ll never see it. Earth is too dangerous now. And because of my father’s constant complaining, she’ll never see it again either.”

Galen examined her. She still hadn’t opened her eyes. In fact, they were squeezed tight. “You blame him for your mother’s suicide.” It was a statement, not a question. He could tell by her bitter tone.

“Of course I blame him. If she hadn’t been such a ‘burden’ to him, with her thick accent and her different ways, she might have wanted to keep living. If he’d stood by her while the media judged her, she might have felt wanted. Apparently, the love of a daughter isn’t enough. She needed her husband, and he failed her.”

And she’d failed Jamila. That was how Galen saw it, anyway. She’d been weak, and left her daughter to endure a man who would never think she was good enough.

“And what does your father think of you?”

“My grades were never good enough. I was the highest ranking student at my boarding school, in all fields of study. But because I wasn’t highest on the planet, he said I could still do better. I didn’t get accepted to the one school he wanted me to go to. He hated that I did art. I danced, and drew. My mother said I was the best painter she’d seen, after her own father, and that one day I would surpass even him. And of course there are my looks. I’m too tall, too curvy and I’m the image of my mother with the exception of his ice blue eyes. And now? I will never do anything right ever again. Oh, I could turn my behavior around, but it would never fix me in his eyes.”

Jamila was beautiful to him. How anyone could find her exotic appearance appalling was beyond him. “You said you did art? Past tense?”

“Yes. After I found her there was no beauty left in the world. I haven’t bothered since. I haven’t even felt the urge. When I go out to a club I go to drink, and have sex. I’ve danced a few times, but nothing like what I would do artistically.”

There was a twinge in his chest. He felt sorry for this gorgeous, spoiled creature. A gilded cage. That was what she lived in. She couldn’t be who her father wanted her to be. She couldn’t go on being who her mother had wanted her to be. So she did what she could to piss off the last parent she had. She was a twenty-four-year-old woman going through a sixteen-year-old’s rebellion. It should have sickened him, but she had her reasons.

“Oh, and Galen? That comment earlier about getting a job and moving away? I’m not allowed. The voters wouldn’t like their senator’s daughter working. Only the rich, well-bred families vote. My working would mean he doesn’t make enough money to keep me in luxury. Besides, I’m supposed to marry, and produce children. A mother can’t work. We’ve surpassed the age of space travel and gone right back to the fucking Dark Ages.”

She was right, of course. Most well-bred women, though educated, still didn’t have careers because everyone would assume their husbands couldn’t keep them. Society saw no personal fulfillment in a woman having a career. She would never get out from under her father’s thumb unless she married, and then she’d be oppressed by a husband. Some lily white dandy who was daintier than her. A man who wouldn’t be fit to spit polish her shoes. Maybe Galen was doing her a favor. He almost laughed. She certainly wouldn’t see it that way when all was said and done.

She finally opened her eyes and glanced his way. Her eyes were shiny, but no tears had escaped to spill down her cheeks. “Why am I telling you all this?”

He shrugged. “Maybe because I was the first person to ask.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Yes, no one has ever wanted to know anything about me. Most of my friends like me for my money, and enjoy pissing off their parents at least as much as I enjoy annoying my father.”

He smiled. “Or maybe I made you so angry, you were willing to talk about anything to keep me quiet.” It was bullshit. If angering her had any effect, it got her to drop her guard. He had a lot of information on her now. Information he’d probably use to hurt her. He hoped he would never have to.

She batted her lashes at him. “Well, Galen, we’ve talked so much about me. What about you? What deep, dark, tortured past lurks behind those blue peepers? What are your secrets?”

Galen shook his head. If she knew all the things he kept from her, she’d have him executed, along with the rest of his people. But could he reveal a small part of his past without giving her enough to get himself killed? Maybe. He hadn’t shared it with many people. It wasn’t something he liked to talk about. He considered his options. Her gaze seemed to plead with him to share something. She was vulnerable right now. She needed to connect. Maybe if he gave her something small, she would feel closer to him. It might make his job easier. Both his slavery and his actual mission.

He shrugged, trying for nonchalance. In reality the wounds he was about to reveal were nowhere near healed. And every moment he spent on this mission made them that much more raw.

“There isn’t much to tell. I was in the military. When I came back, my wife claimed I’d changed, and it wasn’t for the better. She left me. Took our daughter with her. I abandoned my post to search for them, and later was taken captive by the slave trader when I was caught stealing food in a district a lot like Forbidden. He knew I would make him good money. Granted, he was only supposed to deal cyborgs the government was willing to part with. He broke the law by selling me.”

About eighty percent of that was a lie. She’d never notice. Cyborgs were the government’s dirty little secret. People knew they were created, but not for what purposes and against their will. He’d been trained to lie with almost no signs — only another one of his kind would have been able to tell that he was bullshitting. He hadn’t been in the military. He’d been trained by their government, and was better than your average soldier. He’d never looked for his wife until much later in life. He’d been kidnapped by people like him, and deprogrammed. He was a thief to be sure. Since his deprogramming, he’d stolen food, medical supplies, fuel, the government’s deep dark secrets they didn’t want anyone to know about … but it hadn’t landed him here. He’d deliberately placed himself with that slaver.

The only part he hadn’t twisted was his wife and daughter leaving him, and the reason why. He hadn’t even known she was pregnant when he’d been taken. She hadn’t gotten the nerve to tell him yet. Having a baby wasn’t a good thing. They couldn’t have gotten medical care for either of them, and it was another mouth to feed.

But it didn’t matter. He would never know his daughter and never had to take care of her. He hadn’t been worried about his wife once they’d fucked up his mind. He’d been changed, and when he was sent back to her, he’d been sickeningly loyal to the government. He’d also been aggressive, dominant, dangerous … He could see every little lie she told, and she’d held some pretty damning secrets of her own.

He shook himself. He didn’t want to dwell on his wife leaving him. At the time, it hadn’t mattered. Nothing but serving the Federation of Planets had mattered. Now, thinking about it hurt. As soon as he’d been able to remember who he was, he’d been in physical pain from his loss. No matter how hard he’d tried, he never could find Amanda, or baby Charlise, who would be far from a child by now. At twenty-seven, she would look more like his sister than his daughter. He hadn’t aged since the government had accelerated his growth. None of them had. They didn’t know if it was a kind of immortality due to genetic alterations, or if one day their time would run out, and they were just being kept in fighting form.

“It sounds like you could add a lot more to that.” Jamila glanced at him.

“I’m sure you could add a lot more to the story of your mother’s suicide, but you aren’t going to. You can’t bear it. And I really don’t want to tell the story of how my shitty life managed to go down the toilet.”

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry about your wife and kid. I’ve only ever lost a mother. I can’t imagine losing a child, or the person I loved.”

He stared at her for a second. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She was actually showing him compassion. It was sincere. It filled her eyes with a sad light, and the slight sheen of tears. Tears for him, a man she seemed to despise, and a woman and child she’d never met.

She laid her hand over his and squeezed.

He smiled politely, because he didn’t know what to do. “Thank you.”

“Approaching destination.”

Jamila straightened and braced herself for the landing. “Strap in, Galen. I’d hate for you to hit that hard head of yours again.”

The little vessel dipped sharply as it came in for a landing. Nothing slow and controlled for this old beast. Maybe that was why she liked it. It was a little wild and dangerous. Something she admired in all things. Galen strapped himself in and gripped the arm rests until his knuckles turned white.

“What’s wrong, Galen? You look nervous.”

He glared at her. “I’m not the biggest fan of in-planet flying, and I’ve never felt a ship hurtle toward earth quite like this. Are you sure something isn’t wrong?”

She grinned. “If it is, I blame you. You kicked my jumper, after all.”

“From now on we’re taking a new model everywhere we go, and I want to pilot. I fucking hate autopilot.”

“Autopilot is more reliable than a human, with faster reaction time.”

He snorted and muttered under his breath, “It’s not faster than my reaction time.”

She turned her attention to the consoles in front of her to hide her shock. Was he really faster than computer response times? They said cyborgs had computers enhancing their brains. Maybe he could be as good. She shook her head. No, not possible. He was good, but no one was that good.

The ship jerked as the thrusters came on to slow their descent. The curves of the muscles of Galen’s arms stood out in stark relief, so tense that he might snap in half when they finally landed. She might have laughed if his mouth wasn’t creased in a stern frown. The small vessel touched the ground, throwing them against their harnesses.

“Now will you turn us around and take us back to your home?”

She glanced at him to find him glaring at her and laughed. “I’d think you’d want to get out of this cursed thing for a while, and build up some courage for the trip back.”

His stern glower made her giggle. “That would be a nice thought, if I wasn’t worried about your safety. I don’t want you getting killed.”

Her good humor left her. “I’m not five. I’ve been coming out here for six months and the Forbidden District for even longer. Nothing bad has ever happened.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d had some close calls over the years, but her friends had always been there to back her up. But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Ah. I’ve caught you in a lie. There’s something you’re not telling me, Jamila.”

She rolled her eyes. Of course he could tell she was lying. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. If you’re that concerned for our safety, you can stay here. You’ll be nice and safe in this shuttle.”

“You know I have no care for my own safety. I can and have healed many severe injuries.”