Ezra (New Carnegie Androids #6)

Chapter 4 #3

The following morning, I get a text from Deion. Don’t shoot at me. I’m coming in.

The elevator doors open and then shut behind Deion, who looks around the penthouse with a wide-eyed whistle. “Well, I can’t think of a fancier safe house. Do they serve diamond water and gold biscuits here while they’re at it?”

Katrina is munching on her breakfast of yogurt and strawberries. Her appetite must be returning, because she’s looking at a food delivery app, fixating on tacos, chips, and a large serving of guacamole several hours before the restaurant is set to open.

When she sees Deion, she pushes herself away from the counter. “Detective Washington, it’s good to see you! Shit, I forgot you were coming. I’m going to get changed. Excuse me.”

She hurries away.

Deion seems puzzled. “She’s chipper for having hung out with you for days on end. She give you any problems?”

“No, not really,”

I reply, and leave it at that as I fetch my tablet. “This has everything I’ve accumulated so far for the investigation.”

“Perfect. I’ll take it with me and get to work.”

Deion takes it from me clumsily. “Anything else I should know about before I head out?”

“We went to the museum and?—”

“Hold up.”

Deion holds a hand up. “You what?”

“Katrina has a spare key to the museum. Don’t worry. We weren’t spotted, and we won’t appear on any footage.”

“Ezra.”

Deion exhales slowly. “When I said we bend the rules sometimes, heading to the crime scene with a civilian isn’t exactly what I meant.”

“I was able to confirm the tapes Jayne was initially given were tampered with, from the timestamp and the film blips. I was able to recreate it when I spliced the footage to hide evidence of our presence there.”

“I’ll be damned. So someone at the museum might be involved.”

Deion’s face is lined with weariness. “There’s gotta be some two hundred people we’ll have to comb through.”

“We’d best get started, then.”

“You’re certain about Katrina being off that list?”

“Believe me. She has nothing to do with it,”

I reply. “As good a tale as that would be for your future mystery books.”

“Yeah, well, the way I’ll write it, she will. That’s one hell of a twist.”

Deion chuckles. “You sure that’s based on evidence, or something else?”

I arch a brow. It’s taken me four years to really master reading between the lines, as Deion calls it. “What are you implying?”

“Only that she’s a beautiful woman, and you have a way for making women act a little—smitten.”

“This is my professional opinion,”

I say flatly. “Based on evidence and facts.”

“Okay, okay. Relax, just had to ask,”

Deion says. “I’d ask the same of any hotblooded man I work with, Ezra, brother or not. Sometimes you gotta be sure.”

I want to change the subject, and fast. “Have there been any other developments while I’ve been away?”

“Slow going, slower than anybody wants. Chief’s breathing down our necks because the commissioner’s under pressure from the public to solve this fast, but I’m trying to keep things organized. You’re lucky you’re sitting this one out. It’s messy. There’re politics involved, and that’s never good for any crime investigation,”

Deion says. “I’m sorry, Ezra. The chief is adamant. Androids make people nervous right now.”

“Is it really the chief’s doing, or is it Winters pulling his strings this time?”

A shock of resentment courses through my circuits.

“Winters is a dickhead, I’ll give you that, and Jacobs isn’t much better. Seems they’re both worried about how this all looks. City where androids are made creating android killers with an android officer on their police force...”

“Winters is anti-android, far beyond what Humanity First can claim, and has hated me ever since I uncovered evidence that proved some of his best officers corrupt,”

I declare. “He was forced to clean house. He’s had it out for me ever since.”

I don’t go into my own suspicions about Commissioner Winters’s potential involvement in that corruption. Deion and I have been through it, and while he agrees with me, I’m aware neither of us has the evidence to pursue anything against him. But I have a feeling he knows he’s less likely to get anything past me while I’m active in the ACU.

“You don’t have to remind me. I was there. What a day it was.”

Deion exhales. “And you’re sure Miss Carson hasn’t been getting under your skin something fierce?”

“No,”

I say, exasperated. “She’s been perfectly normal. Why do you keep bringing her up?”

“No reason,”

Deion says. “Except now you’re getting defensive, and usually you don’t unless you’re invested in something. Or someone.”

“Can we focus?”

I ask. Deion knows more about me than anyone else, but this isn’t the time or the place to get into the discoveries I’ve made about Kat. About myself. “I am trying to do a job here, even though everyone seems to forget that.”

“Well, I guess the assignment was a good thing if it got you into that museum, second-guessing that footage. As it stands, Jacobs is worried too much exposure to these TerraPura investigations might make you vulnerable to attack. Like Invasion of the Body Snatchers or something. You ever see that movie?”

“You made me watch it. I wasn’t entertained,”

I reply. “If the chief is that worried, I can visit Dr. Taylor in Lab 317. She can outfit me with better security measures.”

“As wonderful as that’d be, Dr. Taylor isn’t in the States right now. She’s enjoying some well-earned maternity leave abroad.”

“Is that safe, considering the current state of events? Bionic engineers have gone missing while abroad.”

“Victor’s with her. I’m not concerned. Not now, anyway.”

Deion rests his hands on his hips. “Don’t worry. Truth is, we’ve all gotten used to having you around. Even Weaver seems to miss you, and that’s something I never thought I’d say. We’ll wear the chief down the longer this goes on. I’m unfortunately stuck in meetings throughout the day today, but I’ll ask Rose to keep you updated on any findings while I’m tied up.”

“Detective Washington?”

We both turn, finding Katrina dressed in blue jeans and a baggy white T-shirt. She ruffles her short hair, looking sheepish. “I really hope you didn’t give Ezra a hard time about the museum visit. It was my idea.”

Deion glances from her to me and back again with a knowing smile I’m not sure I like. “It wasn’t wise, Miss Carson. We don’t know if TerraPura is watching the place. If they were, it’d be easy for them to track you back here.”

“I know there’s a risk, but I thought it was necessary. Especially when you’ve got your best player on the bench.”

Deion blinks in surprise and rests his hands on his belt. “Best player.”

He looks at me. “Surprised you have someone so outspoken in your corner, Detective.”

Suddenly, I want him out of here, fast. “Don’t you have some reports to read?”

He smirks and nods to Katrina. “Keep our best player out of trouble there, Coach. I’ll be in touch.”

He winks at me.

I refrain from rolling my eyes; a human action, but one I’ve grown accustomed to doing when the time is right. Without a doubt, he’s going to give me shit about that when we get home. I didn’t anticipate Katrina speaking up on my behalf that way—and with a sports reference, nonetheless, something Deion enjoys.

After he’s gone, Katrina clears her throat. “Hey.”

I face her. “Hmm?”

“I didn’t mean to get you in any trouble,”

she says. Charlie is in her arms. I run diagnostics on her. Elevated heart rate. Am I making her nervous right now? “I chose to break protocol. The accountability is mine to take.”

“It’s both of ours, then. Partners in crime,” she says.

Partners in crime. An odd turn of phrase, but one I can appreciate. Ironic, as I never thought I’d be partnered with a Carson for anything. “Deion won’t say anything. You don’t have to worry.”

“Fair enough,”

Katrina says. “Iwas thinking.”

“About?”

“You were right about taking small steps, changing directions. I’m going to try.”

You were right . My gratification drive surges at her acknowledgment. I’m at a loss of what to say.

“I know it’ll be tough.”

“Because of your father?”

I ask curiously, folding my arms.

“Not just him. Because I want people to listen, and I realize they won’t.”

She lowers her head humbly. There’s distress in her face.

“What’s wrong?”

I ask, perplexed.

“Nothing. It’s just—”

She rubs her arm. “I’m ashamed. I kept silent when others called for shutdowns. Obliterations. I condemned the violence, but what good does that do? Even though I was in the public eye, I was still in a bubble, and if I’d just taken the time?—”

“Katrina,”

I interject gently. “I don’t blame you for their actions. And I understand.”

We stand silently together. She hugs Charlie, and he beeps, peering up at her with his big glowing eyes.

“I’ve got some things to do, but, um...”

She exhales. “Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,”

I reply, and I realize for the first time I’m thankful too. Grateful that I was given this assignment, this opportunity to work and speak with and exist alongside her. “I’m here if you need me for anything.”

She nods and walks away.

At midnight, Katrina is in the guest room, asleep as far as I know, and I can’t power down into standby, no matter how I try to relax my circuitry.

I remove my coat and sit on a lounge chair that faces the closed bedroom door.

I assume Charlie’s in there with her.

He’s pretty much a housecat with eight legs and some attitude programmed with him.

My systems are far too preoccupied with her.

The way she looked like she was lost in a fairytale in the museum.

The way the colors of the holograms played upon her skin.

The sweetness in her voice when she described the history and science she loves, in a way I’ve never heard her speak before.

I keep replaying her words in my mind, listening to those conversations a second and third time.

Try as I may to focus on the investigation, I keep returning to footage of her, in my memory banks.

I replay the events leading up to the bombing on the march, the way I found her in the aftermath.

How strongly I was compelled to save her.

Granted, I felt the same for everyone injured.

But it was still the first time I saw her.

My gratification drive is a monstrosity.

Being programmed the way I am, investigation is my primary directive, but care has recently taken a very close, if not neck-and-neck, second.

I’m not comfortable with this change.

I never asked for it.

I’d rather be neck-deep in an evidence locker.

Yet, I yearn for more conversations like the ones we had tonight.

Even debates weren’t something unbearable.

I like the way her eyes shine, how she pauses and purses her lips when I say something that makes her think, or how she runs her fingers through her hair.

I like how she challenges my own thought processes.

Annoyed, I grit my teeth.

They serve little purpose, beyond helping me appear more human.

I can’t eat.

I suppose I could bite someone, if necessary, and do significant damage.

Or I could use them to nip my way along her slender neck, gently take her soft pink nipple between them, see how pretty her voice becomes when soaked in pleasure...

Stop , I command when there’s a familiar twitch, my cock nearing activation in my trousers.

Shut down .

It softens almost instantly.

I need to stay focused.

Rashelle is always telling Deion to keep his head on straight when he’s frustrated. I must do the same.

Why am I like this? Why am I drawn to this woman I can’t have? I’ve seen how some of the pro-bionics live, how happy they are.

But they’re domestic androids, designed for homes and families.

There’s little possibility of a future like that.

I belong to New Carnegie Police Department.

I’ll be given no such courtesy. Most days I’m content with that because I like my work.

I have no chance with a woman like Katrina.

Even if she wasn’t a part of Humanity First, she doesn’t want to remain in New Carnegie.

Nor should she.

I try to imagine her trapped here, like me.

A beautiful bird, tucked away in a cage of neon and industry. How could any man ask that of her, let alone me? She needs a partner to explore the world with. I couldn’t expect her to stay. I won’t.

Arguing with my gratification drive is like trying to convince a spoiled child to eat their vegetables.

No matter how rational I am, it doesn’t listen.

It demands I do more.

Everything in my power for this woman, even though she isn’t my owner.

She isn’t my handler. She isn’t even my colleague.

But she has a hold on me.

More than I care to admit.

I can’t focus, thinking of her like this.

This is the second time I’ve allowed my mind to wander to thoughts of carnal pleasures with the last woman in the world I should probably desire, but—I do.

I desire her.

She’s beautiful and intelligent and so quick to engage in debate, and I keep wondering what it might be like to silence her during an argument with a kiss, my cock sheathed inside her.

There it is.

Just like last time, I’m down a rabbit hole I can’t escape from.

I’m lusting for Katrina fucking Carson.

What’s wrong with me?

The answer is nothing.

No malfunctions, no errors.

Just my own undeniable attraction.

I need release.

I listen for any kind of movement in her room.

Nothing.

Leaning back in the chair, I unfasten my belt, pulling it partially from its loops and letting it hang open as I unbutton my pants.

Activate .

I give the internal command, and my cock hardens. I pull it out and give it a single stroke, pleasure receptors responding instantly.

I didn’t always do this.

When I was first activated, it was hardly a priority.

But Deion and Rashelle have a healthy sex life, and I hear everything that goes on in their house, including their bouts in the bedroom.

My curiosity got the better of me, and what began as research turned into a pleasant habit I indulge in once every few days; every night, if I’m under pressure.

I have pleasure receptors that allow me to orgasm, but since I don’t have semen, there’s no cleanup to be concerned with in the aftermath, and I can slow and relax my many systems easily this way.

But I can’t pretend it’s only for my own health that I’m stroking myself like this.

Katrina is at the forefront of every reason, and fantasizing about her, her naked body glistening and wet in the shower, in her loungewear on the couch, is what sends jolts of delight through my sensors as I work my cock.

Imagining all the things I’d do to her, if I could.

I’ve begun a slow rhythm when I hear it—a slight shifting in Katrina’s bed, followed by a soft gasp.

And my name quietly escaping her lips, soft and yet unmistakable to my audio receptors.

“Ezra . . .”

I instantly stop, listening. Perhaps she’s dreaming, talking in her sleep. But then I hear another gentle whimper and the way she breathes, and I know without any doubt in my mind.

She’s touching herself too.

In an instant, I tuck my cock back inside my pants and pull my belt from its loops, tossing it haphazardly onto the couch.

It’s as if she knows my thoughts have been about her.

That I can’t escape from her ruling my programming, that she moves through my motherboard like a virus, taking me over.

I want relief from this torment.

I walk up to her door and pause, wondering how I’m going to go about this.

I want to shove the door open, spread those silky legs of hers, and have a feast. Vengefully prove to her how much better android men are than any previous lovers she may have had.

I want to fuck her, right here and now.

But frightening her isn’t something I want to do either. Instead, I gently crack open the door and step inside.

“Katrina?”

I ask. “You called for me?”

The room is dark, save for some artificial light from the city streaming in through the blinds. I switch my optics to heat infrared just in time to see her frantically close her legs and sit up with a jolt, hiding her hands beneath her blankets.

“What? O-oh. Sorry. I must’ve been muttering in my sleep.”

Her temperature rises, and the way her heart rate increases only confirms what I already know to be true. “Hope I didn’t disturb you.”

Liar . “I can hear everything in this apartment,”

I say softly as I approach the bed, which causes her heart rate to spike. “I can see everything in the dark.”

She peers up at me as I stand over her. “And I know when someone is lying to me.”

“H-how?”