Ezra (New Carnegie Androids #6)

Chapter 6

[ 6 ]

Ezra

You’d think I learned my lesson about taking risks like this.

I’m programmed to be adaptable. It’s humans who often make the same mistakes repeatedly without growth or wisdom. I told myself I wouldn’t get into a situation like this again—getting attached to a woman, only to discover our personalities clash, or our careers, or the things that drive us to do what we do. I have my family, the ones I see at home every night once a long day of work is over. On those nights where we have no choice but to work through until morning, they’re always there waiting for us. I should’ve learned to be content with that.

But Katrina is different from all those other times I was curious, interested, willing to see where things could lead, only to be lured into disappointment time and again. Or at least, that’s what my gratification drive would like me to think, with how it latched on to her so insistently. Spending the last few weeks without her company have been beyond difficult, nearly unbearable. They’ve made me curt and more irritable than usual. It hasn’t made any logical sense to me. My systems all work properly. I’m not malfunctioning. I shouldn’t be experiencing such an overwhelmingly strong connection like this.

It’s not just the emotional connection between us. If androids could be addicts, that’s what I’d be. I relish the image of her body, the sounds she made that evening when I fingered her. I return to that night time and again. The feel of her pussy around my fingers, the taste of her kiss, all live rent-free in my memory drives. It’s all created this one undeniable need to be a part of her life, and my gratification drive refuses to let her go.

I tried to stay away. Perhaps I should have. The fact remains that New Carnegie isn’t her future, and it’s the only beginning and end I’ve got.

But she pursued me, and that’s got my attention something fierce, as Deion would say. It’s not the “let’s hook up” kind of chase either. She hasn’t been able to get me out of her head, by her own admittance. Hearing that is what has me second-guessing everything. Perhaps distance won’t be the obstacle I think it is. Perhaps?—

No. I can’t think that far into the future. It’s gotten me into trouble before. I need to focus on something else.

It’s eleven a.m.—lunchtime. Driving in an unmarked cruiser through the city with Deion in the early afternoon to his favorite diner takes me through some of my older memories, stored away in my BioNex cloud bank: when we used to work beats, long twelve-hour shifts, and respond to artificial crimes ourselves before the ACU grew into what it is today. We earned our reputation with hard work and late nights. We were even sent to England, France, and Ireland. Not exactly something either of us expected.

In the three years since my activation, I’ve never encountered a more loyal, kind-hearted, and intelligent human being. Deion treats me with more respect, courtesy, and care than any other person. In my first year, he taught me what it meant to be human—to behave, think, and feel like one.

As usual, Deion’s spirits are high. I assume he’s looking forward to an evening of good food and good company. He taps his fingers on the driving wheel. “Of all the women in the world, you just had to home in on Katrina Carson like a fucking missile, huh?”

I glance at him from the passenger seat. “That’s another dollar in the swear jar.”

“Goddammit.”

“Two dollars.” I stretch my legs forward, idly scanning my systems. Everything’s operating normal, according to my visual feed. “You disapprove?”

“Not at all,” Deion says. “I think it’s hilarious. You realize her father’s gonna flip, right?”

“Maybe not as much as you’d think,” I reply calmly. “We crossed paths last night.”

“Jesus,” Deion mutters under his breath, but his smile never leaves his face. “That had to have been quite a scene.”

“It was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t volatile.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be, if he really is the guy who cooked up your design. Can’t exactly blame him for feuding with Schroeder, taking the credit for you.” He chuckles. “Sorry you had to deal with that. I shouldn’t laugh, but . . .”

“You hate the guy,” I finish for him, all too aware.

“I really can’t fucking stand him. So obnoxious.” He glances at me. His hair is starting to gray, and there’s a weariness to his face, in the wrinkles of his brow and the pronounced dimples of his familiar grin. The ACU and its responsibilities have weighed on my brother for a long time now, and that burden is beginning to show.

I like the way he speaks in his personable, easy manner. He’s always relaxed his speech around me, been able to be himself and as candid as he likes when it’s just us. Though I’ve never outwardly voiced my appreciation for it, it’s something my gratification drive feeds on quite regularly.

If Deion can tell me his thoughts, if he fully trusts me, then I’m doing what I was made for.

“Let me ask you something, though. Why this girl? Outta all the girls you’ve shown any interest in, why her?”

“Why is it so surprising?”

“Come on, you know why. Probably had everything handed to her on a silver platter with Carson as her old man. Not sure if she’s the type to settle down around here. Not like my Rashelle.”

“I can’t comment on settling down,” I reply. “It’s too soon. For her and me. But I understand what you mean. Her career’s going to take her international, eventually.”

“So there may not be any point to this?” Deion asks.

“I didn’t think so at first. But it’s possible I’m wrong. She’s shown an active interest in me.”

“Which is crazy, considering she’s Humanity First’s sweetheart,” Deion remarks. “I will say, the way she handled herself in that meeting impressed me. You gotta hand it to her, she knows how to hold her own. What was it really like while Jacobs had you babysitting her?”

I fold my arms as our cruiser continues smoothly down the street. “She showed another side during our short time together.”

“What kinda side?”

“Passionate,” I reply.

“Oh.” Deion’s tone is knowing, teasing. “ Passionate .”

“Get your head out of the gutter.”

“Nah, I like it there.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I say with a look, suppressing the sudden burst of intimate video replays that threaten to clutter my feed. Damn my grat drive. Not now. “I think she understands her father’s in the wrong. She has her own opinions, ambitions, and she truly cares about people.”

“Nobody can disagree with you there,” Washington says. “I almost wish she ran the whole thing instead of her old man. Humanity First might make a little more sense and stop causing so much trouble.”

I keep quiet on that count, remembering Katrina’s words. “That’d be something, wouldn’t it?”

“Still can’t believe we managed to convince Commissioner Winters to be on board with a pancake fundraiser it, considering how much he hates you. Any time you’re showcased, he throws some kind of tantrum.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” I say dryly.

“Anyway, back to the subject at hand—your lady friend,” Deion says. “Okay, she’s passionate. A real firebrand. I get the draw. But others have had strong personalities too, and we know what happened with them. They started making demands, playing games.”

“Katrina’s different.”

Deion tsk s. “ Different ? Are you feeling okay? Systems running away from you? Need a reboot?”

“I’m in control of my faculties, thank you.” I glance out the window. “I’m serious. Kat wouldn’t do that. She understands the job. She wouldn’t press me. I have a feeling I could tell her anything if I wanted to, and she’d keep it quiet.”

“ Kat ,” Deion teases me. “Already on a nickname basis, huh? Damn, you’ve got it bad, little brother. But she’s gotta realize her family’s never gonna approve, and you can’t just run away with her either. We need you here.” His eyes remain on the road. “ I need you here, man.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “You’ll always have me, D.”

He flashes another familiar smile. “I know. Hey, I’m just worried about you. It’ll all turn out all right, no matter what. And if you really like her, then I’ll like her too.” He ends a brief pause with another thought. “Can’t promise the same for Rashelle. If she can’t win over Rashelle, she’s done for.”

“You aren’t wrong.” That’s what worries me. The more I research, the more I realize bringing someone to your home to meet members of your family is a big deal . And I’m leading with that right off the bat. Maybe it won’t be so bad. It’ll save us both from wasting each other’s time if it doesn’t go well.

But the entire ACU is going to be there, and I’m bringing Katrina Carson. This is a risk. Some detectives go from zero to a hundred at the very mention of Humanity First because of the messes they’ve had to clean up—property damage, endless amounts of paperwork, strikes and rallies gone wrong.

This may be the first action I’ve taken that might be a little insane.

I hope it pays off.

Kat

Flopping onto my bed, I groan into my pillow as I hold my phone up, currently mid-FaceCall with Zoey. “What am I doing?”

I’ve tried on literally everything in my closet. Ezra said casual attire, so I know my fancy and sexy stuff is all off-limits, but I have so many options, and none of them feel like The Outfit . Even in jeans and a simple blouse, I need to be able to knock this android on his ass and get him back for those kisses he keeps surprising me with.

So I’ve got my no-makeup makeup look on point, my short-cropped hair is styled the way I like, and I’ve picked out the jeans that hug my form just right, but not the top.

“You are so hung up on this guy.” Zoey is crazy amused by me, and I’m just glad she’s done making fun of me. Admitting to her how I’ve been feeling, the way I’m changing directions—hopefully, for the better—was nearly as stressful as my dad meeting Ezra for the first time last night.

And unfortunately, dear old Dad wasn’t done with me. He must’ve suspected something was off, picked up on the energy between us. He sent me a text, letting me know he loved me, but he wanted me to be careful, and getting too close to an android might be dangerous to me, even hurtful. I told him to drop it, and he had the good sense to leave me on read.

But good ol’ Zoey? She just laughed at how “awesomely ironic” it all was. After all she’s been through, I was worried she’d be against it, that she’d remind me of the horrors she endured. But she has a good head on her shoulders. She doesn’t blame all androids for TerraPura. I don’t know what else I expected. She even confides in me how the museum’s curator, Diana, invested in a helpful domestic android named Edward, tasked with assisting her husband. I didn’t know he’s been diagnosed with cancer, or that he suffers from occasional PTSD triggers from his last deployment.

“So that’s why she went on sabbatical.”

“I only know because she came to visit me at the hospital, and it came up in conversation.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t visit you. I feel like a horrible friend.”

“Please, don't even worry about it. Your dad got fucking shot, and I had my entire family and Bridger hovering around me too. As for Diana, I’ll let her know you’re supportive. Now, let’s talk fashion...” Zoey taps her chin. “Just pick something that’ll show a little cleavage but not too much. Think of it like a high school reunion. You wanna look put together, like you figured out life before everyone else did.”

“Wow, thanks, that’s really helpful,” I say sarcastically, combing through my closet again and ignoring my already large pile of definite nos. I hold a top up for her. “This one?”

“Sure, I’m sure he’ll love seeing you in a grandma sweater.” She shrugs. “Definitely family friendly.”

“I hate you.” I toss it on the no pile and pull out a flowing, light blue button-up tunic that isn’t too low-cut. “This?”

“Much better. Wear that with a pair of leather knee-high boots, and you’re golden,” she replies, stirring a cup of tea with a little golden spoon.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh,” Zoey says. “Finish that off with a knit cardigan, and you’ll look like every generic white girl in an autumn catalog ever.”

I slouch with a groan. “Is my wardrobe that outdated?”

“No! You’ll look fine. Trust me, your outfit is the least of your problems.”

My entire train of thought comes to a screeching halt. “Now what do you mean by that?”

“This isn’t your typical first date, Kitty Kat. Stop worrying about your clothes and start worrying about the barbecue. These are people he works with. Every day. You gotta make sure you make the right impression. Based on what you told me, he’s gonna drop you like a hot potato if you get this wrong.”

“Right, but—I don't know, should I be that worried? I wouldn’t embarrass him.”

“You wouldn’t, no,” she agrees. “But I’m your friend, and I gotta tell you, nobody’s more relieved you’re being honest with yourself about androids. I knew it, deep down. You’ve never said that crazy ‘shut them down’ stuff, and you always handle debates well without getting emotional or saying mean things. You’re way too sweet to be a hardcore anti-android nut.”

“I still feel like I should’ve spoken up more than I did,” I admit.

“Don’t worry about that! Hey, you know I love you. But you’re going into enemy territory now. You’ve got to show them all you’re not the fighting-words Katrina they’re used to seeing on TV.”

I sigh. “Seriously, thank you, Zo.”

“You’re welcome,” she says in her singsong voice. “Have fun.”

After she’s gone, all I can think about are her words. She’s right; these aren’t strangers in a restaurant I can just ignore. I can’t cling to Ezra’s side or act the wallflower either. I never even considered just how political this date could get. I’ve got to impress Detective Washington, his wife, his kids, and Ezra’s coworkers. Some may have heard or watched me speak at different rallies, debates, interviews. These are all people who are going to know who I am, who my family is. They’re going to remember everything I’ve said, the points I’ve made. They might see me as the biggest hypocrite in New Carnegie.

As I pull on my shirt, it really hits me. With Ezra, I’ve skipped over one entire dating phase. Early stages of dating for people my age mean dinner, hanging out, and sex to make sure we’re compatible.

Going over to the Washingtons for a barbecue, meeting everyone? That’s for girlfriends, people who’ve gone steady for a few months. Despite my own internal fantasies and curiosities of what it might be like, Ezra and I have given into temptation only once, stolen kisses a handful of times. We haven’t even gone all the way.

Is Ezra testing me?

He mentioned previous women haven’t worked out. I run through every possibility, but not being serious enough is definitely one of the reasons why. Ezra’s not the type to play the casual game for long. Which means eventual commitment.

If Humanity First finds out before I’ve taken appropriate action to speak to Dad’s followers, the organization might implode on itself, or worse. The small but extremely vocal numbers calling for violence might set their sights on me, my family, or even Ezra himself, after branding me a traitor to the cause.

What are you doing, Kat?

I do my best to fight those nerves. I’m not going to be scared away by what’s probably a simple crew potluck, even if they are a bunch of sharp-as-knives detectives.

That’s enough of that. I won’t stay here, determined to be afraid of things I don’t fully understand, and I’m getting so far ahead of myself I can practically see my wedding dress on the horizon. He invited me to a barbecue, not to eternity.

“Woman up, Carson,” I mutter to myself, reminiscent of the old days when I played lacrosse in school and got that fresh dose of jitters right before a game. “You’ve survived two bombings. A barbecue is nothing.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket impatiently. I peer at the message from Ezra on my screen.

Are you a romantic? he asks.

Well, he certainly doesn’t beat around the bush, does he? I can’t help but give him a hard time. Define romantic.

That’s difficult, he replies. I suppose romance can be subjective.

That it can, I tease him. But if you mean, am I a girl who likes candlelit dinners, walks on the beach, rose bouquets? Yes. I’m a bit of a romantic, deep down.

A knock on my door tells me he’s here. I steady myself, go to open it, and find Ezra standing there in entirely different attire: a black V-neck T-shirt and jeans.

My eyes dart to the luscious bouquet of yellow roses with crimson tips, pearly snapdragons, and scarlet mums in his hand, and my breath is immediately taken away. The thought never occurred to me before. I’ve never been on the receiving end of a flower bouquet. Not a romantic one, anyway.

Ezra studies me intently, his white eyes contrasting with the colorful arrangement he holds. “Rashelle likes candles to the point of obsession, so there will be candles displayed everywhere tonight. But I’m afraid walks on the beach are impossible in New Carnegie, unless you’d like to wade through trash by the river.”

“Oh my god.” I laugh as I carefully take the flowers and step aside to let him in. I shut the door behind him. “What would you have done if I said I wasn’t a romantic?”

Ezra smirks. “Calculated risk.”

“Let me put these in water.” I take the bouquet into my kitchen, looking around wildly for something to put them in. I’m not even sure how to take care of flowers. I tried to have a cactus once; it died. That was the end of my green-thumb experiments. I search my cabinets for a vase, a cup, anything, and finally discover an ancient triple-tall coffee mug with Don’t Talk To Me, I’m Not Caffeinated painted in colorful letters on the side.

Fortunately, Ezra doesn’t let me fumble through the process for long. I sense him behind me and turn.

He takes the bouquet back. “Let me.”

His voice and the slight graze of his hand on the small of my back, guiding me gently to the side, send delighted prickles of goosebumps along my skin. He sounds... intimate. Like we’re already lovers and have been for some time. He locates a pair of scissors in my drawer, snips the stems, and sets them perfectly in the tall mug filled with water and flower food to keep the blooms bright.

Every move he makes is so deliberate, measured, and gentle. I quietly marvel at him. How can someone so broad, so powerful, be so careful with something as fragile as a flower? I reflect on his behavior with Washington’s child outside the downtown precinct. My ovaries are suddenly on an internal rampage.

“I didn’t realize you were a florist too.”

“Benefits of a computer brain,” Ezra says, setting the flowers on my counter for me. “I can learn to do anything in the blink of an eye.”

“Must come in handy.”

“It does, in more ways than one,” he replies. Then he takes me by the hands and gently pulls me in. His lips find mine. What starts out as tender explodes into passion. I slide my arms up over his shoulders, my fingers weaving into his synthetic hair. It’s so natural, so real, just like the softness of his lips, the soft reverberation in his chest against mine as he stifles a noise of contentment.

When the kiss breaks, I’m almost rendered speechless. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” I whisper, my knees threatening to buckle as he leans down and rubs his smooth cheek against mine.

Ezra teases my ear, causing tingles to shoot up my spine. “Good.” He tilts my chin up, not allowing me to escape the intensity of his eyes. “You know, I think you like this. Behaving this way with a droid. How forbidden it is, especially for you.”

“Maybe.” I bite my lower lip. “Just a little.”

“Just a little?”

“Okay, a lot,” I reply. “But I think you know that, with how you can scan me at any time. You have me at a disadvantage.”

“Oh, there’s been several times you left me just as speechless, Katrina.” Ezra plants a kiss just below my jaw line. “In more ways than one. I admire that you can’t be told what to do, what to think.”

“True,” I answer coyly. “But maybe the right person has found a way to put me in my place.”

He blinks at me in surprise, and for the very first time, I see a true, albeit somewhat mischievous, smile cross Ezra’s face. “Be careful.” He twines his fingers with mine and leads me down the apartment corridor. “You may regret those words.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” I scan the security pad with my free hand to lock up. I’ve just crossed the road from denial into lands unknown, and I’ve never been more exhilarated.

The Washingtons live on the south side of the river in Shieldridge. It’s called Old Town by most people, since it’s been around since before the 1900s. The suburb is essentially boxed in on all sides and has no room for any expansion. Its history is rich, though, in ways the rest of New Carnegie can’t boast. There’s an indigenous museum of Shawnee and Iroquois. Boatloads of impoverished Dutch and Irish immigrants—including my ancestors—settled here in droves. A statue stands in Old Buchanan Park dedicated to Shield’s Boys, the local volunteer battalion that was heroically slain at Gettysburg during a vicious battle against the Confederate Army.

The city’s own journey of righting injustice—desegregation, Civil Rights marches, and protesting the Vietnam War—are all catalogued across multiple memorials in Old Buchanan Park. They’ve survived the decades, before everything became cold, stainless, and neon.

I used to count Humanity First as the next chapter in that history. Now, with Ezra, I’m not sure where it’ll lead. My dad’s offer from the night before has remained on my mind. Could I lead it somehow?

Could I make it better?

It’s easy to put those worries aside when Ezra and I are talking. All my worries slip away until only warmth remains. He tells me stories about his job, things he dealt with day-to-day when he was first activated and the ACU was brand new.

“Wait, so the cop in that viral video was you ?”

“Yes,” Ezra says as he parks along the boulevard and opens my door for me. “Traffic stop. Not usually our concern, but he was practically doing figure eights in front of us down North Pacific Avenue, texting and driving. Got me on video, of course. Calling me a junk pile, every name in the book. But”—he taps his temple—“I got him on video too, so when the department released my footage, well, his threats of a lawsuit quieted down pretty quick.”

I step out of the car and scan the quiet neighborhood, the smell of mesquite wood and smoke drawing me in. It’s not the fanciest or the most modern, but there’s a charm to the area that downtown neon lights and steel will never be able to replicate. Every house and yard are unique, nothing like the colorless, mass-produced magazine homes seen these days.

Leaves are scattered across grass and cement, the trees shedding their luscious green foliage for mid-autumn colors of orange and crimson. Children play, racing and chasing one another across the pavement, weaving around bushes or riding their bikes. A few teenagers sit together on the Washingtons’ front porch, scrolling their phones and laughing as they exchange videos and stories. They part for Ezra and me as we approach, glancing at me with passing curiosity before returning their gazes to their addictive gadgets.

Not like I can judge. My smartphone was practically glued to my hand from middle school onward. Spending time with Ezra has been the only time I’ve ever not really thought about my device. It’s tucked away and forgotten in my pocket. I haven’t touched my social media in a few weeks. No doubt the algorithms are pissed at me.

When I step through the front door, the smell of smoked brisket and ribs hits me full force, and my stomach growls hungrily. The murmur of multiple conversations, mulling throughout the interior of the home, pauses as people turn to see who’s arrived.

Their eyes are bright as they all erupt into a chorus of cheerful greetings, treating Ezra like an old friend long absent rather than a machine or a simple coworker. A few gazes fall on me, more out of curiosity than recognition.

A thunder of little feet crosses the ceiling above our heads as three young children come stampeding down the stairs.

“Ezra! You’re back!” a young girl squeals excitedly as she and her siblings launch themselves at the bionic man. He plants his feet apart to catch them as they launch themselves at him, not even slightly unbalanced in the act. I bite back a soft laugh.

Like a patient lion tolerating his cubs as they crawl all over him, he allows them to embrace him and makes no attempt to pull away as he guides them to the ground, where they hug his legs. “I am. Behave, now.” His scolding is gentle. “Kat, this is Malee and DeDe. The little one waddling around there is Julius.”

They’re all so cute. Malee, though she’s clearly the eldest by her height and demeanor, hangs back. “Hello,” I offer with a smile.

All three regard me with shy curiosity, the little boy, who is new to the world of walking, hides behind his elder sister with a grin.

“Hello!” DeDe is the first one to break the mold.

Detective Washington, wearing a frilly pink “Kiss the Cook” apron that’s far too small for his burly frame, comes over with a smile. “Ezra! Good, you’re here. It’s not a party without you.”

I’m trying and failing to imagine Ezra partying when Washington turns to me and offers a hand. “Miss Carson, you look well. How’s your father holding up?”

I take his hand and shake it. “He’s much better. I can’t thank you and the unit enough for everything you’ve done.”

“No need.” Washington smiles. “There’s a spread on the dining table. Grab a plate and help yourself to all the food you want?—”

“D!” A woman with a light-brown complexion, bright amber eyes, and a gorgeous waterfall of black braids swept over her shoulder skirts around his powerful frame to peer at me. “Forgive my husband. He always forgets to properly introduce me to anyone.”

“Right, sorry.” Washington chuckles. “This is my wife, Rashelle. Rashelle, this is Katrina Carson.”

“Kat’s just fine,” I say quickly as Rashelle and I exchange a handshake. I fight off an extreme spike of anxiety. I know how important she is to Ezra, and I’m on guard, searching for dislike or condescension in her face, her eyes.

If Rashelle doesn’t like me? I’m fucked.

But I’m not met with any of that. Her gaze is piercing, yes, but also curious. There’s a warmth to her words that I’m not sure I deserve yet. “Me and a couple of the other girls are in the kitchen making cocktails, if you wanna join us.”

A cocktail sounds like it’s the perfect solution to taking the edge off. I haven’t been this nervous since publishing my first scientific paper on North American paleoanthropology. “That sounds great, thanks.” I weave between a few other guests deep in conversation, who either don’t notice me at all or cast me an idle glance.

Two ladies in mid-conversation near the kitchen island and sipping cocktails smile politely at me as I shuffle in after Rashelle. I nod at them and do my best to banish my apprehension. These are Ezra’s coworkers. His friends. His family. Considering it a workplace helps me harness my nerves a little as I try to appear open and approachable, remembering countless communication and body language workshops that taught me not only how to hold my own in any room, but how to own the room entirely.

Then I see Jayne Rose, and I’m glad I recognize one familiar face. She sits in a wheelchair, something I didn’t notice in her video call with Ezra since she was at a desk. Up close, I can tell she’s one hundred percent a natural redhead. Her freckles are scattered like droplets of paint across her face, nose, and collarbone. She wears a pair of dark leggings and the exact same comfortable sweater Zoey warned me not to wear, slipping off her shoulder. And she looks nothing like a grandmother in it.

Her bright blue eyes catch mine, and she smiles in recognition, which makes her infinitely prettier.

“I like your sweater,” I say.

“Thank you.” She grins. “I like your boots.”

Rashelle slips a cocktail into my hand, and I thank her as I give Jayne my best not-actually-nervous smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

Jayne wheels forward to extend her hand. “Good to see you too! In the flesh, for once. You know, I gotta say, I’ve heard so many things about you.”

I take her hand and shake it firmly. “Terrible things, I’m sure,” I say, abashed.

“Not at all,” Jayne replies as she lets me go. “Ezra thinks highly of you. I was hoping he’d throw caution to the wind and bring you around sometime.”

“Yes, I hope I don’t get him in trouble,” I say with a little concern. Ezra takes his job so seriously, the last thing I need to do is jeopardize that.

“Well, Winters certainly loves having an excuse to bench him, whenever and however he can,” Rashelle replies, resting her hand on the counter. “But Winters and Jacobs weren’t invited. Besides, Ezra does an outstanding job, and the mayor is a big fan of having an android on hand investigating bionic crime.”

“I knew he was crucial, despite his superiors treating him otherwise.” I sip my cocktail. It’s a pi?a colada. I haven’t had one of these in a while, and I let myself enjoy it. “I’m glad the mayor sees that, at least.”

“They’ll all see it in time, I hope,” Rashelle says. “Remind me, what kind of work do you do at the museum?”

I’m a little caught off guard—but then again, Deion and Ezra are devoted to my case. It stands to reason she knows a lot about everything, if there’s any discussion about it at home. “I’m an assistant curator.”

“Is that exciting work?” Rashelle asks.

I nod. “I think it is, but I’m a bit of a nerd. I get way too excited about fossils.”

“That’s me, but with mysteries! Nothing wrong with a girl being a geek.” Jayne nurses a drink of her own.

“I’m gonna go check on the boys.” Rashelle excuses herself, heading into the backyard where Washington—Deion—stands with several other men around a grill.

I look to Jayne and bolster my own nerves. I need to impress Rashelle, but Jayne is second on that list. She’s pretty much Ezra’s right-hand woman. “What’s it like, working at the ACU? With Ezra?”

“It’s amazing, and Ezra is fantastic,” Jayne replies. “He’s the best thing about working this gig, hands down. He’s just so helpful. I like to think we make our jobs easier. What might take me hours takes him just a few seconds, but I bring the human angle to the mix and help him consider things he might miss as a bionic.”

“What’s your favorite part about working the job?”

“Getting out of the office and following up with witnesses,” she says proudly, lifting her cocktail to her lips and sipping. “Sometimes I visit crime scenes, but mostly, I go over evidence at headquarters and assist with analyzing forensic and other data. We’re a team like that. That way, Ezra can be on the move. Despite what you may think, he can’t do everything . At least, not the way I do it.” She winks.

I don’t think I’ve seen a wheelchair like hers before. It moves with a simple swish of her wrist. That’s when I notice the silicone rings on her fingers, and the way they light up when she moves her hand. That must be how she controls it.

She catches me staring. I’m about to apologize but she shakes her head and chuckles. “It’s okay. Everyone’s curious. I was in a car accident back in Ireland. Drunk driver hit me so hard my seatbelt snapped, and I got thrown through my windshield. I lost function in my legs. Not a fun day.”

“I’m so sorry you went through that. That’s beyond awful,” I say, not wanting to bring down the mood by asking more detailed questions about the accident. I hope whoever injured her got a lifetime of prison for it. “It doesn’t seem to have slowed you down.”

“You find ways to keep busy, and with TerraPura causing this many problems, there’s plenty of work to be done,” she agrees.

“Jayne,” Rashelle calls from outside. “Stop talking about work!”

“That’s me told,” Jayne says sheepishly. “Rashelle says I’m a workaholic, and she’s probably right. So! You and Ezra. C’mon, tell me everything!”

“Oh, I?—”

“Don’t you dare pretend like there’s nothing going on. I could sense the sexual chemistry from across the city when he called me,” Jayne says. My head spins from how direct she is. “I hope you know how lucky you are.”

“I do, actually,” I insist, a bit embarrassed at her calling me out, but I try to roll with it. “He’s a wonderful person. As far as protective custody goes, it felt like it could’ve been a vacation, if I let it. Spending time with Ezra was incredible. I just feel bad because I’m sure him being assigned to me slowed the investigation down and put more work on everyone’s plate.”

Jayne brightens considerably. “You called him a person. I knew it! I knew you weren’t like those other mouthy whack jobs in the news—I had a good feeling, and I’m glad I was right.” She seems giddy. “And don’t worry about the investigation. We managed. But, hey, back on track. I’m a single pringle. I want to live vicariously, and you, lady, are not getting out of this. Tell me more. Who made the first move?”

“Ah—I suppose he did.”

“Ezra.” She whistles in surprise. “That’s new for him. You must really be special. Are you worried about Humanity First? How they’re going to respond to you, well, dating an android?”

I’m not used to being so open right from the beginning. At first, I want to plot an exit strategy back to Ezra. I can see him outside with Deion and a few other men by the grill. But then I steel myself. I knew these questions would be coming, and I feel like I owe his friends and loved ones an explanation, if I’m ever to stay on their good sides. “I’m a little worried, yes. Not of what people might think, per se, but because I don’t want our fight against Carnegie Steel and other big companies to dissipate just because I’m dating someone synthetic.”

“That’s a fair point.” Jayne hums. “Rock and a hard place, that. But I’m sure it’ll all work out if it’s meant to. Has he made any bets with you yet?”

“Bets?” I ask curiously. “No, not yet. I wasn’t aware he was the gambling type.”

“Try it sometime,” she says. “He can’t resist, because he thinks he’s always right, and he’s got all those numbers and odds and percentages rolling around his head like a super computer. But I’ve got luck on my side. I always win when we bet on something.”

“What do you bet on?”

“Usually things related to work. And when he loses, he brings me doughnuts.”

“That sounds like a best deal ever.” I giggle.

“Right?” Jayne beams. “Nothing’s better than a box of doughnuts. Except maybe chocolate croissants. I love croissants!”

Before I know it, an hour has passed just discovering Jayne. The more we talk, we easily find common ground in everything from TV shows to music. Toward the end of our conversation, she’s whipped out her phone and stored my number, and we plan a lunch date sometime next week.

When Rashelle returns, she’s all smiles. “There’s more meat on the table. D went all out with the smoker. Help yourselves.”

I sit next to Jayne and enjoy bite-size portions of everything from brisket to homemade potato salad, corn bread, macaroni and cheese, and coleslaw, listening to everyone talk and laugh. Every American comfort food I could ever need is on that table, and if I’m not careful, I could eat as much as three men, like my days in undergrad when I could really pack it away and burn it off by just existing.

But not tonight. I need to keep things light.

Just in case.

My determination renewed, I make my rounds, trying to speak with and get to know everyone a little. I learn the ACU began with just two people—Deion and Ezra—but it’s since grown into an ironclad team of ten people.

I work to keep names straight. The newest additions to the task force are Drustan Norris and Lex Weaver. Jayne explains how Lex’s dad, Marcus, is also on the ACU task force as a detective. But Marcus isn’t present at the barbecue today. Not a fan of androids, Jayne explains. Then there’s also Jenna and Iman in forensics, the only married couple in the unit working together, and officers Karis, Tony, Roger, and Brendan. I count them quietly on my fingers to make sure I got them all. It’s a start. I’ll have to make another round to try to make sense of which spouse in attendance belongs to whom.

“You spoke to Jayne for a while.” Ezra’s voice is soft, inquisitive, bringing me out of my analytical work brain as he comes to stand beside me a distance from the outdoor tables where people are eating. “You two must’ve really hit it off.”

I grin at him. “Yeah. She’s great. We’re gonna hang out next week.”

His brows lift in muted surprise. “Glad to hear it. I heard you gossiping a little.”

“Did you?” I ask, playing coy. “Super hearing?”

“Something like that.”

I let myself have another cocktail when Rashelle offers and spend some time with her too in the backyard. We watch her kids rake leaves into piles, then send them scattering when they jump into them for fun. They play chase and try to wrestle with Ezra when he comes to oversee them. He remains immovable, and soon walks with two little girls giggling and clinging to his legs.

Stifling a giggle of my own, I glance at Rashelle. “Never realized he was so good with kids.”

“He’s the best.” Rashelle gazes at them lovingly. “When Deion first brought him home, I didn’t know what to think. He was so serious, couldn’t crack a smile if you asked him to. Now?” She taps a fingernail against her glass, humming. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s more human than the rest of us.”

“I find myself wondering the same thing,” I admit, wondering if the warmth spreading from my stomach to the rest of my body is obvious on my face. Ezra glances at me from across the yard. Our eyes meet, and the heat only increases.

Maybe that’s enough cocktails for me.

“You know.” Rashelle’s turns her attention to me. “In his four years of living with us, he’s never brought over a girl. Not once.”

My heart quickens, and I scoff a little, embarrassed. “Jayne said something like that too. That must be strange for all of you. First girl he brings home is enemy number one.” I’ve been working hard not to project on everyone around me, because no one’s said a word about it, but I can see the questions in their faces. It’s taken all of my self-control to leave it alone, avoid explaining myself.

Rashelle folds her arms beneath her chest. “I won’t lie and say that hasn’t crossed my mind. Your organization hasn’t exactly made Ezra’s or my husband’s job any kind of easy.”

“I know,” I say, glancing at her. “And I’m sorry for that. I’m sure I sound like a broken record when I say that I’ve always?—”

“I’ve watched your interviews. I’ve heard what you’ve said,” Rashelle replies. “I know you personally aren’t to blame for the actions of other people. But you’ve got to know Humanity First can’t keep this up. People are going to start killing each other if the extreme rhetoric isn’t done away with. It’s a cancer.”

“Believe me, I know,” I tell her, wanting her to know I share all of those concerns. I live them every day, poring over every possibility in my head. “And big changes are coming.”

“Are they?” Rashelle asks pointedly, like she isn’t sure quite yet if she believes me.

It’s a fair question. “Change has to happen, and I have to be the one to facilitate it. I’m still navigating how best to do that without letting everyone down.”

“Everyone being . . .”

“People who’ve lost their jobs and depend on donations from us. If we quit now, big money wins. I know some people won’t be able to see past the fact that I’m romantically involved with an android. It might all fall apart, anyway. But I have to try.”

“That sounds like a lot of responsibility on one person’s shoulders.” Rashelle’s expression softens. “Your dad can’t help you with it?”

“Not this time.” I’m not ready to tell everyone he’s decided to retire. Or that I’ve already decided I need to take his place. Dreams of France keep growing dimmer, but what else can I do when I’m needed?

“Well, Ezra clearly cares for you a great deal.” Her attention returns to her children. “You’ve somehow gotten his attention and held it, and that just hasn’t happened before.”

“He must mean a lot to you too,” I venture quietly, trying not to make it plain that I can’t keep my eyes off this man.

“To Deion, he’s a brother,” Rashelle says with a little nod. “But to me? He’s more like a son. Like the stork brought him here to me all grown up and graduated from college already.” She laughs heartily, gently patting my shoulder. “I really am glad you came tonight. I’m gonna see about serving dessert. Hope you saved room.”

“Sounds great,” I say as Ezra gently pries DeDe from his leg and holds her in his arms. He looks at me again.

When we share a smile and a familiar warmth flushes my cheeks, I know it’s over. I’m past the point of no return.

Ezra has me completely smitten.

I just can’t tell if he knows it.