Ezra (New Carnegie Androids #6)

Chapter 8

[ 8 ]

Kat

“Give me one more,” Ezra growls into my ear. “One more.”

We shouldn’t be taking risks like this. If it wasn’t for my car windows having tint control, I probably wouldn’t have considered it. But here we are—Ezra’s hands are on my hips, bouncing me up and down his cock in the backseat, driving himself up into me hard as I reel from my release.

Pleasure courses through me, causing me to shudder. “Shit,” I whine. “Ezra, I’m coming again?—”

Ezra’s response is to grab my jaw and pull me in to silence me with a rough kiss as he pistons into me. The car shakes with each desperate motion, both of us lost to our desire, our need to fuck whenever and wherever we can. I surrender a second time to bliss before collapsing against him.

BioNex might’ve created Ezra, but Ezra’s created a monster.

After our first night, I slept in until the early afternoon. By the time I woke, I was ready for another bout and happy to find Ezra in bed next to me, rousing from his standby mode. For the past several weeks, we’ve been brooding in passion. I feel like an addict. When we aren’t together doing this, I’m thinking about when we’ll be able to do it again, looking forward to the nights he’s come to stay with me, the delightful soreness I get when I’ve been thoroughly used, and used him too.

Now, we’ve just snuck away from the pancake fundraiser. It’s a smash hit. People have come from all over the city to different police depots, showing their support and donating ten dollars a plate for a good cause. I’ve even had decent conversations with Humanity First and pro-bionic supporters with Ezra present. The amount of times we came to the mutual agreement that androids and humans can live in harmony was such a breath of fresh air. We all agreed that we should refocus our efforts to combat big business instead of BioNex itself.

I’m so relieved to know I’m not the only one who feels like this. Humanity First doesn’t have to be a humans-only bastion of social justice. We can accept more people, find more support, if we can just find common ground. A name change will be the first order of business once Dad officially steps down. Perhaps a fresh start can help separate us from harmful rhetoric. I don’t know what I’ll call the organization yet, but I’ll think of something.

Being in close quarters with Ezra is difficult. It’s hard on the live stream I ran earlier, which had close to ten thousand viewers tuning in, with him nearby. I allowed them to talk with Ezra, ask him questions about his job, his systems, how he interacts with people in need, and what kind of cases the ACU solves. My moderators worked hard to get rid of trolls and needless hate speech. Obviously, not all my followers have warmed up to him, and I’ve lost a few.

But I’ve gained hundreds more, including Lucy Warren. That was a bit of a shock. A follow from the queen of pro-bionics? Incredible.

With the pancake feed still going on, it’s hard to focus on anything but him. Everything has been running smoothly, and there’s been a lull in the crowd, and I was feeling like I might just die if I didn’t feel his hands and his lips on me, right there and then. When I said I forgot something in my car, he offered to accompany me. It wasn’t hard to convince him of the rest: sweaty, shameless, deliriously sinful sex in his backseat. I’ve never felt like a bad girl before. I kinda like it.

“Shall I try the vibrating technique again?” Ezra rumbles, his hands coming to rest on my rear.

“I don’t think we have time for another round.” I lean in and kiss him, My body aches, sore from being pushed to my limits. We did it three times last night. I wrap my arms around him. “This is what I like most of all anyway.”

“What?”

“Being held by you.”

His eyes shine, his camera-like pupils dilating. I know I’ve said the right thing by how his backlights flicker and shine. I’m not lying either. Ezra’s arms around me make me feel safe, warm, and wanted.

I toy with his coal black hair, running my fingers through it as I gaze up into his face. “We should probably fix ourselves up and head back before we get in trouble.”

“Everything’s winding down.” Ezra leans down and presses a few kisses against my rosy nipples. He seems to be a breast guy. Whenever we lie entangled after another lovemaking session, he has to touch them in some way. “We aren’t needed.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Deion has things covered.”

So many thoughts and fantasies, both realistic and impossible, run through my head all at once as I gaze into his eyes. There are so many things I could say, that I want to say, that I can’t bring myself to. I decide to stick to what’s safe. “This was amazing.”

Ezra rests his forehead against mine. “It was.”

More than my own thoughts, I want to know his. “Tell me what’s on your mind,” I whisper, rubbing his arm.

“I’d rather not.” He disentangles himself from me with a soft chuckle, fixing his clothes. I swiftly do the same, pulling my dress down. “It’s probably a discussion best left until later.”

In an instant, I’m on guard and hyper-aware. What the hell does he mean by that? I tug at my dress here and there, making sure everything is where it should be. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he says quickly. “Not at all.”

“Then what do you mean?”

He looks at me, hesitant, then sighs. “I’m used to having all knowledge in an instant. It’s strange and uncomfortable for me to let things stay unspoken. But I want to give you time before discussing too much.”

“Is that difficult for you?” I ask. “Waiting?”

“It isn’t fun , but I manage.” His voice isn’t flat, dry, or unimpressed. There’s a softness to it, like he’s tiptoeing around me.

My heart rallies my words before I even realize they’re spilling out of my mouth. “I’m not going anywhere, Ezra,” I insist. “Everything about this—about us—none of it is casual. Or just sex. Not for me.”

It hits me hard then just how lucky I am to have Ezra like this. He always carries himself like a man in control, like he’s in command of everything, including his own programming and responses. I try to imagine beautiful women turning him down, telling him he was moving too fast, that it was just for fun. That it didn’t mean anything to them, when he was hoping for something more. Something concrete. Why wouldn’t he want those things? Seeing Deion and Rashelle, living in their home, witnessing how happy they are.

If androids were made to exude humanity and have evolved into something more, it means Ezra’s capable of loneliness and heartache just like the rest of us.

I remember silently thanking his creators and wonder if the women who had any part in his making enjoyed watching him come to life as much as I love pressing kisses along his jawline.

Studying me intently, he leans back against the seat.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I ask again. “And I won’t argue, I promise.”

“All right,” Ezra replies. He pauses, and for a moment I can almost see the thoughts and questions whirring behind the slight shuttering movement of his pupils as they narrow and dilate. “This is all so different for me too. And I want you, Kat. I’ll be—” He stiffens and stops, sighing heavily.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, perhaps summoning patience. “It’s Deion. Give me a moment.” Everything about his demeanor changes into complete and neutral professionalism. “What do you have for me?”

I can’t hear anything. I try to fix my face as best I can after I roll off him onto the back seat. I reach over when I’m finished to lightly caress his arm. He takes my hand and squeezes it, allowing me a stolen moment to admire our fingers, entwining on top of the backseat.

“I’ll be there shortly.” Ezra looks at me. “I have to go. I have a briefing.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s your father’s fundraiser at the Loft. Jayne said she came across some questionable dialogue in the corners of the dark web she monitors. It could be nothing, but it could also be something. Jacobs has already spoken with the gala organizers, and they’ve agreed to a small police presence to keep an an eye on things.” He sighs. “Of course, Deion wants me there.”

“Oh, everyone will love that.” I trace his knuckles. “So you’re saying I’m going to see you at the party Friday night?”

He smirks, stealing a kiss. “You’ll see me at the party Friday night.”

We slip out of the car separately, of course, at different times. It takes me longer to ready myself, so I don’t look like I just came from a steamy, afternoon session in the car. When I’m satisfied that my hair doesn’t look ridiculous, I turn toward the fundraiser, only to pause when my phone rumbles in my pocket. I pick it up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Kat, it’s Ashley Barnes.” The familiar, friendly singsong tone of my father’s lead PR lady is one I know well. “I just wondered if I could set up a meeting with you tomorrow about your PhotoGram account.”

“Sure,” I say, though my heart thumps slightly with tentative warning. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, no! It’s just—I’ve noticed you haven’t been posting as much, and I think we should put our heads together and make a consistent plan to grow your social media presence. This is what I do, so I’d love to help with that. How does tomorrow afternoon around two p.m. sound?”

“Sure,” I agree, relaxing a little. “Are we meeting somewhere?”

“Oh, no, we’ll do a video call. You just stay nice and relaxed at your new place,” Ashley replies. “I’ll write you in for 2 PM. Thanks so much!”

“Anytime.” I slip my phone back into my pocket. Dad talks to Ashley Barnes more than I do, and I’m wondering if she suspects change is on the horizon for Humanity First. Maybe he’s alluded to it. Or maybe she’s just that intuitive.

I don’t remember telling her about my new place or posting about it publicly. I dismiss that thought. Dad has always had the gift of gab with people he knows and trusts. I’m sure they’re sick of hearing about me right now. And while an afternoon conference call on the weekend isn’t my idea of fun, I think I need to be open with other members of the organization and do what I can to get them on board.

I’ll tell Ashley all about my plans. After the gala.

My family isn’t rich, so a gala of this magnitude isn’t something I’m used to attending. Dad and I have exhausted every connection we have to persuade, guilt, and otherwise obligate the right people—the people with bottomless pockets and endless streams of money propping them up at the top—to be there. We’ve also managed to get a few national company sponsorships.

And I need to show my support.

I’ve been half dreading this event since its inception. Rubbing elbows with people who don’t know what it’s like to work, get their hands dirty, or struggle to achieve their own greatness sounds utterly exhausting. I can deal with self-made billionaires like Ben Flagler, even if he is a lecherous old man who always manages to have twenty-somethings clinging to his arms in droves. But heirs and heiresses who ride on the coattails of their families? I doubt I’ll be able to hold a conversation for long, if they even want to talk to someone like me.

The event is at the Loft on 51st Street. It’s the most expensive, luxurious venue in town, at the top of Duke Tower, the second-tallest skyscraper after BioNex Tower. I invited Zoey and Diana as my guests so I won’t have to wander this den of sociopolitical intrigue by myself—and so I have at least two people who could stop me from potentially saying anything stupid.

We stand together in the grand ballroom, dressed to the absolute nines. I’m wearing a backless sage green evening gown. Diana elected to go a little flashier with a glittering red mermaid gown that accentuates her curves. It’s a marvel her husband, Jayden, allowed her to leave the house, he was so smitten with her when we picked her up. Zoey wears an adorable strappy little black number.

While Zoey is a good friend, Diana is more of a professional contact, and we aren’t as close, but she’s someone I look up to. When the subject of Edward, Diana’s bionic helper, comes up, it all starts to come out. I tell Diana everything—and Zoey a few new things too, while I’m at it.

Diana stares at me like I’ve suddenly grown a robotic head. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re going to take over Humanity First—and change the name?”

“Right? That’s what I said. Who are you, and what have you done with Kat?” Zoey agrees.

“Dad’s retiring,” I explain softly. “I haven’t announced it yet, but I’ve already made some great strides. I think I can salvage this. But to do that, there needs to be a new identity apart from hatred and violence.”

“Well, I have to say I’m impressed,” Diana says in astonishment. “I didn’t expect this from you.”

“I know,” I reply, sheepish. “And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel uncomfortable, when there’s an android in your life.”

Diana’s eyes flash with subtle pain. “Yes, he’s been very crucial to me.” She pushes past it with a practiced smile. “I don’t know where Jayden and I would be without our Eddie.”

I know better than to touch on that subject any further while her husband has been going through chemo, especially when she hasn’t told me outright what’s going on, and I’ve only learned about it all secondhand. “I understand.”

“So there’s really going to be pro-bionic people here?” Zoey asks. “That’s wild.”

I give my gown a quick once-over. I’m not usually done up quite this elegantly. “Yes. Rebecca Schroeder and Nicholas Kane.”

“It’s a little odd she took the BioNex founder’s last name,” Diana muses.

“I think it was her husband’s idea. At least, that’s what I heard in a commentator video somewhere,” Zoey remarks. “A kind of hat’s off. But who cares? Nicholas Kane is going to be here!” Zoey would bounce if she could, but she’s still wearing a cast. “This entire night will be worth it if I can get a picture with him. He’s so cute. Bridger worships him. He’ll be so jealous!”

“Have you thought of a name for your new organization?” Diana asks, keeping on task as always.

I hum softly. “I was thinking Voices for Humanity.” I cringe. “It’s cheesy, isn’t it? Give me time. It’s a work in progress.”

I glance around. The Loft is a gorgeous venue, with an impressive crystal dining room where chandeliers shimmer and glisten above our heads. The tables are dressed with white cloths and white-and-yellow flower arrangements. The sharply dressed staff is all human. Stepping through the doors feels like stepping into another world.

I can tell in an instant I’m outdressed. Ben Flagler’s multiple guests are all wearing gowns three times my budget, and the drop-dead gorgeous Mrs. Lydia D’Angelo—the fourth wife of a security tech tycoon—wears a diamond necklace that has to cost more than I make in a year. From a distance, I spot the mayor, Jacquelyn Rivera, and Rebecca Schroeder, standing with her husband, Oliver.

Their affection for each other is plain. Not in a cringy, PDA way. It’s in the way they move, the soft buzz of electricity between them as they greet people and chat with the guests around them. They’re a team, facing the world together.

Can Ezra and I ever do that? Could we get married?

I push those thoughts aside. Marriage is huge. I can’t be thinking about that yet. I don’t want to ruin this by moving too fast. But, oh, how lovely would that b— no, Katrina, focus .

Rallying both my courage and my wits, I decide to take the initiative and welcome them personally. “I’ll meet up with you at dinner,” I tell Zoey and Diana, then move toward Mayor Rivera, Rebecca, and Oliver.

Nervous but unable to stop my trajectory when Rebecca spots me, I come right up to them and smile. “So glad you could make it, Mayor, Councilmember Schroeder.”

Mayor Rivera nods at me. “Miss Carson, I believe?”

“Katrina, please,” I say with a polite smile, turning my attention to the others. “Or Kat, if you like. It means a lot that you’re here with us today.” I offer my hand to Rebecca. “It’s wonderful to finally meet in person.”

“I’m pleased to be a part of this event.” She takes my hand and shakes it with a smile. “I’m glad we can collaborate for a greater good.”

“I’m a fan of your message, your intention to make more jobs for human employees,” I continue. It’s so freeing to tell her to her face and mean every word of it. “I wish more people recognized we don’t disagree as much as they think we do. And I think you’ve brought a lot of common sense to city leadership. My hope is, with some small adjustments in legislation to bring big business to heel, these altercations between androids and humans can end, and the people behind Humanity First can focus on helping those in need instead of needless conflict.”

Rebecca brightens. “I agree. I’m excited for this.”

“So am I.” I glance at her husband. He’s tall and broad, and wears a sharp tuxedo. He’s not as powerfully built as Ezra, from what I can tell. Then again, I’m well aware I’m biased. I extend my hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Oliver.”

Seeming somewhat surprised, he gives me a firm handshake. “The pleasure is mine, Katrina.”

“I appreciate you coming,” I say. “It probably wasn’t easy. I understand Humanity First has become an icon of violent people with bats, crowbars, and bad attitudes. I mean to change that.”

He nods. “I’m intrigued by the prospect. I also understand emotions tend to run high, especially when those involved have lost their livelihood.”

“What do you think of the new orders being rolled out by President McKinley?” I ask him.

Oliver clearly didn’t expect me to address him at length. “I think she’s making a mistake and shifting blame from the true underlying issues.”

“TerraPura, you mean?”

“Yes. People should be worried.”

“I agree. I’m very worried about TerraPura. All the time. But we shouldn’t give up our liberties out of fear. That means yours too.”

Rebecca looks like she’s about ready to drop her jaw to the floor. Oliver smiles. “I’m glad we see eye-to-eye.”

I take that as my cue. “I should probably make more rounds. Pleasure meeting you all.”

As more and more guests keep coming, I keep my eyes open for Ezra. If he’s here already, he’s staying out of sight. Then I spot Jayne Rose.

She wheels toward me with a broad grin. “Kat! Hi!”

“Hi, Jayne. I’m so glad you came. Is Ezra here?” I ask.

“He is,” she says. “To others, I’m sure it looks like he’s being a bit of a wallflower, but he’s around. I wouldn’t go searching him out at the minute. He’s focusing on face recognition and weeding out potential TerraPura affiliates.”

“Should I be concerned?” I ask. Just the thought of being in the vicinity of TerraPura again puts me on edge. But we have increased security and members of the ACU here as well—I’m aware this might be my nerves.

But what if it isn’t?

Jayne’s quick to put my fears to rest. “No, no. Just taking precautions, that’s all.”

She’s dressed for the party in a pretty pink gown, and her red hair has been tamed and braided to one side. I appreciate her understated but elegant appearance far more than the gaudy jewelry and wear-once fashions of the New Carnegie elite.

“You look lovely, Jayne. Your dress is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She beams at me. “I’m just excited to get out of the office. Thanks for inviting me. I’ve never been to a fancy party like this. This seems like a pretty tame opportunity to do so and slay while doing it.” She strikes a little pose for me. “I understand most of these fellows are off the market, but you never know, I might meet a handsome Mr. Moneybags to snag for myself.” We giggle. “Are we still on for lunch next week?”

“Absolutely.”

Jayne grins at me. “Oh! You didn’t tell me you invited Nicholas Kane. I am swooning! He’s so hot. I used to have such a crush on him.” She sighs dreamily.

“If all goes well, you might be able to speak with him tonight. I hear he’s very personable,” I tease.

She blushes and waves a hand at me. “No, no, don’t you dare. Don’t play with my heart like that. He’s married anyway. Her name’s Sophie, if I remember correctly. They’re standing over there. See them?”

I glance across the beautiful ballroom where clusters of people talk, drink champagne, and pick at appetizer trays as they’re carried out by staff. Sure enough, wearing a black suit and tie is the handsome English billionaire, his beautiful android wife on his arm in a long blue gown that displays her elegant shoulders. She seems to be glowing as she stands with him. She looks familiar to me, somehow, and I’m not sure why.

“I was so excited to see him here. I thought he retired,” Jayne adds.

“We had to pull a lot of strings, but we managed to lure him out this way,” I say. “I’m going to go introduce myself before I lose my chance. Do you want to come with me?”

“No no no no no,” Jayne says quickly. “I’ll gaze at him wistfully from a distance.” She pauses, then adds, “See if he has a brother!”

I excuse myself from her company and weave through the New Carnegie elite, my attention set on Nicholas Kane, the richest billionaire in the UK and the creator and founder of EverFed, the most successful tech company in the Western world.

“Miss Carson,” he greets politely as I approach him. “This is quite the party.”

“I wish I could take credit for all of it, but my dad did a lot of the work too,” I say as we shake hands. I do the same with Sophie. “You look lovely, Mrs. Kane.”

She brightens considerably. “Thank you, Miss Carson. You’re too kind.”

I’m a little nervous, but as we chat, that anxiety melts away. I describe to them what changes I’m planning, how I mean to make Humanity First something else, something better, and most importantly, something welcoming to those with androids in their families. It’s not difficult to capture Nicholas’s attention after that.

He strokes his chin. “I’ll tell you what. Once you’ve gone public with your new trajectory”—he extends a humming holo- card to me, something I doubt he gives out very often—“give us a call. Sophie and I will be your first official sponsors.”

I’m stunned as I slowly take it from him. “A-are you serious?”

“I’ll never forget how it was young men protesting with Humanity First who stopped TerraPura from stealing away my wife from me forever,” Nicholas replies, glancing at Sophie, who smiles up at him happily. “I almost lost my entire world that day. But it was your supporters who intervened.”

Memories of the march come flooding back to me. I remember it. The android woman in the periwinkle dress. The man, beaten within an inch of his life, surrounded by alarmed Humanity First protestors. The moments leading up to the explosion, where I just couldn’t move quickly enough to help.

That was them. I mean, I heard about what happened to Kane, but my mind never put two and two together that I actually witnessed it.

“It’s true,” Sophie replies. “I can’t remember much from that day, but I’ve seen the footage. We’re truly grateful.”

“I only wish more could’ve been done to prevent it in the first place,” I admit. “But I’m glad people marching with us were able to help you before things got horribly worse.”

As more guests approach us to speak with Nicholas, I quietly excuse myself to continue making my rounds. I finally catch sight of Ezra, standing with his hands behind his back near the entrance where he’s scanning faces. He spots me too.

He wears a full NCPD uniform with shimmering blue ACU patches, and looks so different than his casual, everyday detective clothes that he usually wears. It’s all black, except for a blue stripe along his sleeves that almost looks like holo-tech when its reflection catches the light, but not quite. He’s armed . He’s wearing a badge.

Okay, why is this hot?

Deion stands opposite of him in the same gear, occasionally nodding at folks who greet him. In all, when I take a long look at the entire venue, I spot five police officers present. Ezra was right. We really are taking precautions.

I’m not about to distract Ezra from his duty. He’s there for a purpose. I haven’t gone public with our relationship yet. I’ve considered how I’ll do it, eventually, and I anticipate I’ll probably lose at least half of my social following, but that isn’t what concerns me most. I want to make sure I handle it in a way that won’t risk his position.

He’s so serious as he scans the crowd. Was Ezra downplaying the risk before?

Perhaps canceling the gala would’ve been safe. Knowing Dad, he’d never cancel unless someone forced him to, citing he’ll never cow to terrorists.

I feel my phone buzz in my purse and pull it out, seeing a message displayed.

You are the most beautiful woman in this room.

Ezra’s message has my insides somersaulting. My feet are suddenly lighter, my heart skipping a beat. You look sexy in your uniform. Is everything okay? Be honest. I’m kinda worried, seeing you and the others decked out like this.

He gazes at me, nodding a little. All clear. No TerraPura. This was precautionary. As he looks away, I can see the faintest smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. I look forward to taking that dress off.

I bite back a smile. Tonight?

Tonight, he replies without even so much as blinking or showing any sign he’s communicating with me.

This is getting me hot and bothered. I feel like the heroine in my own big screen romance, sans the bloody duel or the schoolboys fighting and snapping their fingers in the streets. I’ll see you then. I reluctantly shove my phone back into my purse, give him an affectionate look, and try to focus on my diplomacy skills. I continue to socialize as best I can, spending some time making rounds through the room and passing the time with Zoey, Jayne, and Diana.

At dinner, with the doors shut and all guests present, my father speaks softly to his social media guru and PR consultant—Ramsey Feldman and Ashley Barnes—who are both working tablets as they chat. He motions for them to remain seated. I notice they both appear a little confused, almost like he was dismissing their suggestions or wasn’t altogether paying attention to their conversation. Then Dad rises from his seat next to my mother and makes his way slowly to a podium on a small stage, a glass in his hand.

“This city has seen tumultuous times,” he says. “Seeing you all here tonight reassures me that not all is lost. There’s still a chance we can make things right.”

He clears his throat and continues with a charming smile that’s won him countless interviews and invitations to talk shows and newsrooms all across the nation. “I think we all recognize the truth. Androids aren’t going anywhere. Nor, perhaps, should they. My daughter has gone to great lengths over the past few weeks, behind the scenes, for Humanity First.”

Embarrassed, I bow my head slightly, even as my friends sitting with me at the banquet table give me encouraging looks. It feels like the bare minimum I could do.

“As you all know, I was attacked,” Dad continues. “And I stand before you a humbled man. The individual responsible for shooting me was an android, yes, but an android programmed for harm by a human being. An extension of a murderer’s will, without choice. This was never the intention of Algrove Schroeder, a man I once called friend, or the company he built. But he did build an android, a BNP99. An android who aided in the protection of my daughter. An android who works tirelessly with the Artificial Crime Unit to catch the people responsible. And if an android can do this—pursue justice and protect my family—then I can no longer say shut them down in good conscience. Thank you to Ezra and the other members of the New Carnegie Police Department’s Artificial Crime Unit—you are making the city a safer place, for all of us.”

I’m shocked. I never expected Dad to go this far or to talk this way. Where is this coming from? My mom looks just as astonished, but pleased, which is more than I can say for Dad’s reps, who are desperately checking their tablets and whispering to each other in reserved panic. Dad is definitely off-script from what they were expecting for their big social media push tonight.

I glance over at Ezra, seeing his attention snap to my father in bewilderment while Deion, similarly surprised, smiles and gently pats his shoulder. Ezra’s gaze meets mine. I can see he’s at a loss, not sure what to make for this unexpected recognition.

I can only offer a puzzled smile of my own, so he knows I have nothing to do with this. I wish I knew what to say, how to react.

My dad is acknowledging—thanking—Ezra. In front of an entire ballroom filled with people. In front of cameras.

In front of the world.

I scan the room. There are some murmurs from people who seem just as surprised as I am. Nicholas Kane whispers softly with his wife. A human couple stands from their seats and leave the room. A few others follow, but the majority remains.

Dad, what are you doing?

“I have come to believe we can work with others to make New Carnegie a better place to live and work, starting by assisting those who need our help the most,” Dad continues. “We appreciate your generous donations for the families of the victims of the New Carnegie Natural History Museum attack. This will not replace the people who lost their lives or fill the voids they leave behind. But if we can offer even a small measure of reprieve, then that’s what we’ll do. Tonight, let there be no argument between men and machines. Let there only be compassion. Loving others is the ultimate measurement of what it means to be human. Without it, it doesn’t matter if we’re steel and synthetic or flesh and blood. Without love, we’re nothing.”

Someone, somewhere, begins to clap. Then more join in.

I watch in awe as people rise from their chairs throughout the ballroom. They’re all on their feet, applauding Dad. Even Oliver and Sophie take part.

Dad doesn’t soak in their praise for a moment longer than he needs to. He motions for everyone to sit. “We have a wonderful supper planned for you tonight. Thank you again for joining us at this event. And may we bring about the change needed to restore this city to what it was before—a haven for the worker and his family.”

There’s movement behind the kitchen doors. Food will be brought to us soon, and I’m famished. Servers come out in pairs, some of them carrying oversized platters. Plates of sizzling wagyu filets and Parmesan herb broccolini, and bowls of pumpkin soup are placed in front of us. Water, wine, and champagne is refilled. We settle in and prepare to eat.

Dad is heading back to his table. I have so much I want to say. I underestimated him. I’ve been so fixated on Ezra and our blooming relationship that I never considered Dad might be growing as a person too instead of stubbornly remaining stagnant.

Maybe meeting the bionic he designed—the man he dreamed on paper and brought to life—had something to do with it. Dad takes Mom’s gloved hand and kisses it. She glows.

I glance to my left as a platter-bearing server skirts in the way of another server heading back to the kitchen with an empty pitcher. Just when I expect them to collide or weave around each other, they drop what they’re carrying with a loud crash. One of them reaches for Dad, pulling a gun from his pocket.

“Dad!” I cry out, leaping to my feet, but someone seizes me at the same time as gunfire erupts into the ceiling, shattering a chandelier and sending glass shards cascading down on the guests.

“Drop your weapons!” a man barks at the security detail advancing on us.

A gun is shoved up beneath my jaw while shouts and cries of dismay erupt throughout the Loft.

People panic in an instant, either freezing, falling into their chairs, or scrambling to duck for cover. A few try to run. Nicholas Kane is on his feet, positioning himself between the gunmen and Sophie. Oliver is similarly standing with his fists clenched, his face twisted in fury. I desperately look for Ezra.

“Don’t move!” A third waiter points his gun and fires at a man trying to flee, shooting him in the leg. The man falls and grips his bleeding calf while his wife screams. “Do not move!”

Ezra has his own weapon trained on the gunman holding me, a silent snarl etched across his face. I’ve never seen Ezra truly angry , but it emanates from him, from his feet to his shoulders. His white eyes blaze with fury.

“Back up, tin can,” growls the man holding me, and it hurts when he pushes the barrel of the weapon against my jaw. I have to stand on my tiptoes to get some relief from its cold bite.

I’m terrified, more than I’ve ever felt. More than the bombings. I’m on the precipice of panic. I manage to form one word after the other. “Ezra, please.” I try to keep my voice calm, but it’s quaking. “It’s okay. Please.”

Setting his jaw, Ezra drops his weapon and steps back. Two more servers join the gunmen from a nearby bathroom, but they’re wearing custom black pullover masks. One has a rifle of some kind. They grab one person each—one of Ben Flagler’s entourage, a pretty young socialite with golden hair who’s already crying in fright, mascara streaming down her face, and Mr. D’Angelo, one of New Carnegie’s wealthiest businessmen.

The security guards are armed with tasers and nothing else. They quickly drop their weapons and hold their hands up. Deion and the other members of the ACU reluctantly do the same. They won’t risk trying to take the gunmen down, not when this has turned into a hostage situation.

Dad’s chest heaves. He’s scared too. “Remain calm. Please stay where you are.” He tries to catch a glimpse of the man holding a gun to his head. “Whatever you want with me, I’ll go quietly. Let everyone else go?—”

The man pistol whips him. “Shut up. Move.”

My heart jumps into my throat.

The man and my dad inch toward the kitchen door, where most of the kitchen staff watches helplessly with their hands up.

My captor shoves me after him. “Go.”

“If anyone tries to follow us, they’re dead,” shouts the person bringing up the rear, pushing the red-faced Mr. D’Angelo along. Out of my peripheral vision, I see Oliver turning to face our retreat into the kitchen, where the chefs and waiters don’t dare intervene, frozen.

We’re brought through an exit and into an emergency stairwell for the entire building. Suddenly, there’s a crunch , and the first gunman falls unconscious to the ground.

The captors throw us back against the wall. One gunman keeps us in the sights of his rifle as the others swing their weapons over the side of the railing and open fire. I can barely think, my entire body strung tight. My ears ring.

The gunmen shout and curse at one another. “Motherfucker! Light him up! Light him?—”

The Loft’s exit door behind us flies off its hinges.

Oliver crashes into the closest shooter before the gunmen can even register what’s happened. One punch knocks a shooter out cold. Another gunman fires at Oliver. The shots hit Oliver’s chest, but he just stands there and takes it, glancing down at the bullet holes in the surface of his synthetic skin beneath his tuxedo.

Without a word Oliver stalks forward and knocks the gun from the masked assailant’s hand. He grabs the man by the neck, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

“Kitty.” My father is breathless, sprawled on the stairs, and disoriented from where the first man fell. His temple is bleeding. “Kitty, run. Get to the lower floor. Get out of here.”

The thought of abandoning my father here is something that doesn’t even register in my mind. It’s not an option, no matter how anchored by fear I feel. I’m disjointed from any sense of logic, filled with adrenaline. I dart toward him, wanting to put myself between him and our attacker. But the remaining gunman snatches me when I reach for my father.

She yanks me by my hair and holds me in front of Oliver, gun to my throat as she backs up toward a corner of the stairwell, her attention fully fixated upon him. In the corner of my eye, I see the nearby exit door begin to slowly open. “Fucking bot! Fuck off!” She sounds almost hysterical. “Back the fuck up! I’ll blow her brains out if you don’t get back! I’ll?—”

A gun discharges , causing me to jump. Her grip loosens on me as she falls to the floor in a heap, breath robbed from her lungs.

Ezra lowers his weapon as he stands in the open exit door of the lower floor beneath the Loft, brow furrowed, and swiftly disarms her. She’s bleeding on the floor from a shot to her shoulder.

But she’s down. That’s what matters. Ezra is here. He and Oliver stopped them.

Dad has staggered to his feet, and though he seems unsteady himself, when my knees buckle he becomes my anchor and steadies me, slipping his arms beneath mine. The room is spinning. “Kitty!”

“How did you make it here so quickly?” Oliver asks Ezra.

“I went down to the floor beneath this to intercept them in the stairwell from the opposite side. Are you all right?” Ezra demands with urgency. He’s worried about me, I can see it. But he’s also concerned about the other assailants, lying in various stages of unconsciousness on the stairs.

Swallowing down a very dry throat, I nod. “I’m fine.” Except I’m not, and by the way Ezra stares me down, he knows it’s a lie. I feel a tremor in my hands, rubbing them against my gown to try and steady them. “Really, I’m...fine. I’ll be fine.”

Ezra checks on the other hostages. D’Angelo is flushed and sweating, while Flagler’s girl trembles against the wall with a loud, strangled sob.

I fixate on Dad and instantly begin to fret. “Your head!”

“I’m fine,” he insists, pushing aside my hand. “We need to get back to your mother and get out of here.”

I try to process what’s just happened. Everything went from wonderful to terrifying so quickly. There are so many frightened people in the Loft—my friends, my mom. I think of the people we were trying to persuade to help our cause. The victims relying on us to come through. What’s going to happen now? I can’t think straight.

Why won’t my hands stop shaking?

I nearly lose my balance, but through sheer will alone, I keep myself upright. Ezra’s hands slip beneath my arms to steady me. “Kat.”

“Sorry, I?—”

“I’ve got her,” my dad tells him, without anything but concern for me. “Do what you need to do, Detective.”

In the street outside the tower, emergency personnel and reporters are already showing up in droves, blue-and-red lights twirling and casting their colors on the ground, skyscraper windows, and across faces of onlookers. Someone draped a blanket over me to protect me from the chill.

I’m shaken, but I’m all right. My mother and my friends all stand with me. My father will need stitches. The young woman who came with Flagler has had a nervous breakdown. D’Angelo has been rushed to the hospital after a complaint of a shooting pain in his arm, at risk for heart attack.

Reporters clamor for some kind of news from the police. They’re booking the perpetrators who are well enough to be taken straight to the station, while the others—Oliver and Ezra’s work—are being lifted into the ambulance, having suffered concussions and one bullet wound.

My eyes feel heavy with tears I haven’t cried yet. Among the onlookers, Nicholas Kane has his arm wound tight around Sophie. Her eyes meet mine, and I see relief register in her face, her mouth moving with words I can’t hear at this distance.

I want to apologize to her. This was supposed to be a mission of peace. Instead, what happens? Everyone’s at risk again. Despite my every effort, it’s not safe to be around me. Us. My family. Humanity First.

I don’t think I can sit around and wait to announce Dad’s retirement. I don’t have time to think about this anymore. This will have to happen tomorrow. I have to move quickly, in the hope it will take the target off his back.

But will it mark a crosshair that much brighter on me? Am I strong enough to carry that burden?

I don’t have a choice. I have to be.

My mother’s tears have dried. After making their statements to police, I do the same. For the first time, I’m the one who feels robotic, just going through the motions, too stunned to do anything beyond stare at the pavement.

Zoey and Diana stay with me for a while, but I can’t stand the thought of them remaining here. I don’t feel safe right now. Zoey already had a close call. Diana has her husband, who loves and needs her. The thought of my friends getting hurt again, just for being associated with me, is too much. After convincing them I’m okay, they offer me half-hearted goodbyes.

The tremors in my hands have settled for now. But I feel like any moment, they might come back. It’s off and on.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

I turn when I hear familiar voices. Ezra and Oliver emerge from the building. Ezra’s brow is furrowed, the corners of his mouth turned down.

“Your people left. I had no other choice,” Oliver answers matter-of-factly.

“You could’ve stayed put.”

“I was a military prototype. I’m incapable of allowing terrorists to walk off with defenseless hostages.”

“I have it on good authority that your faulty military programming was deleted before you were placed in your box. You’re not authorized to use force of that magnitude. Give me your hand.”

I watch quietly as Oliver and Ezra share what appears to be a handshake, but their eyes meet, and their pupils shutter for a moment before Ezra breaks away.

Now, Oliver is irritated. “I could’ve done that myself.”

“I had to be sure. No footage.” Ezra says. He glances at me, aware of my presence. I give him a faint, forced smile. All I want to do is run to him. But he addresses Oliver with the authority anyone might expect from a detective, hard at work. “You should leave.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing more I can do?” Oliver says. “Technically, I handled two out of four problems for you, and I did it without lethal ammunition.”

Ezra doesn’t seem pleased in the slightest. “You gave two suspects concussions and have basically buried me under a mountain of reports to offset your involvement.”

“People were in danger. I simply acted.”

“You’re a military prototype, Oliver. I told you last time, you’re supposed to be lying low. It’s hard enough keeping you hidden from interested parties that would just love to pick apart your motherboard when you’re married to a public figure. It’ll be near impossible if you start playing hero.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Oliver doesn’t appear apologetic. “And you’re welcome, by the way.” He nods at me. “Miss Carson. I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Thank you, Oliver,” I say. “It was really amazing what you did. Are you okay? They shot you.”

Oliver smiles, and doesn’t seem concerned about the bullet holes peppering his fancy clothes, stained with ivory blood. “You’re very welcome. I’m perfectly fine. Nothing a visit to Tin Man’s Heart won’t fix. Until next time, Detective.”

“There better not be a next time,” Ezra grunts and waves him off. Oliver returns to his wife.

Officers secure the perimeter and ignore the calls from reporters as the two suspects well enough to be transported are placed in the backs of separate cruisers. Ezra also ignores them as he holds a brief discussion with Deion. They both glance at me, and Deion nods.

Reporters shouting their questions over each other.

He studies them for a moment, then continues his conversation with Deion before they part ways. Ezra approaches me. Turned away from the world with his white eyes focused directly on me, his harsh frown and crinkled brow fade into something different. Softer concern now crosses his features as he closes the distance between us.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m okay,” I try to reassure him. “My dad took the brunt of it. Was this another TerraPura attack?”

He shakes his head. “No. That’s why Deion called off the extra security detail. We checked everyone, staff included. No TerraPura activity or association.”

“But you stayed,” I whisper. “Did you have a feeling?”

“That something wasn’t right?” He offers an ironic smile. “Yes. But I always have that feeling. It wasn’t enough to convince Deion this time because I had no evidence, and people have been away from their families for too long, working this case. He was right in trying to send them home early.” He sighs, bowing his head. “But if I’m honest, the reason I stayed above all is you.”

Hearing those words both exhilarates me and fills me with guilt.

Ezra offers his hand. I take it, realizing how starved I feel at this moment for his touch. He lifts my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles.

“Stay with me tonight,” I whisper. “Please.”

“I’ll be late,” Ezra replies. “But I will.”

“Katrina?”

My father stares at us with wide eyes.

I’m seized with a sudden realization—we’re being affectionate out here, out in the open, and I haven’t told him. I haven’t told anyone. After everything that’s happened, it was the least of my concern. Now, after seeing Ezra kiss my hand, I couldn’t deny anything even if I wanted to.

Ezra slowly lets go of my hand and steps slowly away from me. “Mr. Carson.”

Dad gazes at him, then turns his weary eyes on me. “You? And him?”

My heart thunders. This isn’t how I wanted to do this. I’m standing on the edge of the unknown with only two ways to go. Do I step back and lie? I’d rather do anything else. Downplay? I don’t want to. This is the truth. If nothing else came out of this night gone so horribly wrong, at least I can do one thing right.

Ezra and I exchange a glance. He’s neutral, but mirrored in his white eyes is concern, understanding. I see it in the way he withdraws from himself, hiding behind that professional visage.

Maybe he thinks I’m going to deny him. Maybe he doesn’t care either way.

But I do.

“Yes, Dad,” I say at last. “Me. And him.”

Ezra jerks his head toward me, looking at me in astonishment. I glance at him apologetically because I know this isn’t the ideal location or time, but I can’t keep denying this anymore. I can’t keep hiding this.

For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence. The world slows down. The tremor in my hands returns, and I clench them at my sides, trying to ignore them or at least hide them as I take a step toward Ezra. Ezra steps toward me too.

Until we’re side by side.

There are tears in Dad’s eyes. But I don’t see anger. Shock, maybe, but no rage. Not even disappointment. There’s resignation; a deer-in-the-headlights stare. Not the way I thought he’d be at this moment.

He doesn’t address it. He doesn’t scold me or praise me. He just nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallows. “I’m taking your mother home.”

“Dad—”

But he’s already wandering off to meet my mother.

And I’m left wondering if I’ve just lost my dad forever.