Chapter 5 #2
Jena watched him as he frowned and wondered if he realized he was petting soft, circular patterns onto her bare midriff.
It was the first act of true affection she’d ever seen from him.
Strange that he should be doing it right then.
Stranger that he should be showing her any affection at all.
She tried not to read anything into it, but it was difficult because it felt so outlandishly good.
His fingertips were wide and warm, smooth and hard.
His nails were longer than what she might find on the average man.
Probably because of the way his claws retracted and extended.
But honestly, right now she couldn’t tell a damn bit of difference between him and a human male.
Not at first blush, anyway. She imagined he was very much like he had been before he had been changed.
Perhaps a bit more muscular or defined. She didn’t have the original to compare him to, so she couldn’t speak with any assuredness.
“I doubt it’s as much a matter of arrogance with Paulson as it is the traits of a psychopath or a sociopath.
He knows his own brilliance, and he considers himself far and away above the rules of society.
You might see that as godlike. He is more likely to see his brilliance as a means to the end.
The end game has more value, in his mind, than the methods he has to take to get there. ”
“Like war,” Kin said grimly. “As long as we win, what’s a few lives in the process?”
“Exactly.” Jen smiled at him, her head tilting as her eyes brightened a little. “Kincaid Gregory, you are far better at higher reasoning than you would have others believe.”
“Don’t let my good moments fool you,” he said wryly. “In some ways, I’m not so different from Paulson. Why else would I even be considering putting your life on the line?”
“Well …” Jen touched the tips of her fingers to the backs of his, stopping their play against her skin for a moment.
“Whereas Paulson is into this for the single-minded achievement of his own science, you are looking at a different picture. You are trying to find a way to do damage control. The way any cop would. The perp is out in the world and wreaking havoc and must be stopped. Sometimes that means putting a confidential informant at risk. It’s done all the time. ”
“Except a CI is usually a criminal themselves looking to cut a deal. It’s a matter of using a smaller fish in hopes of catching a bigger, more important one.”
Kin watched her look off to the side and a harsh protest kicked through his brain.
“You are not a criminal, Jenesis,” he bit out.
“Since when do you actually believe that?” she countered sharply. “You’ve held me responsible from the first moment I walked in your doors. No doubt for much longer than that.”
He opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t figure out what to say.
If he contradicted her he would be admitting that he’d known she was innocent the entire time he’d been treating her like utter shit.
What did that make him, exactly? Did it make him even worse that he wasn’t willing to own up to his own mistakes and flaws?
Was he able to blame that on being forced into becoming a Morphate? Or had he always been that way? Maybe his brother had better control over his Morphate self because Nick had always been a better man overall.
Not at all prepared for such soul searching, Kin backed away from her and flung himself off the bed and onto his feet. He straightened his jeans, zipping himself up and running an agitated hand back through his bristling hair.
Christ, Kincaid, when did you become such a douche bag?
He had to ask himself that because he could see by her increasingly resolute expression that she was taking the weight for things that were honestly not her responsibility.
He hadn’t been sure when he’d first hired her, but after hours and hours spent watching her work through those damn security cameras and nightly reports of her progress when she’d sounded too tired to even be on her feet, he’d come to understand she was guilty of nothing more than being too dedicated to her science.
What she was doing she did in a methodical manner and with ethics firmly in mind.
At least she did now. If she had been in need of a readjustment in values, she’d certainly found it over the past seven years.
“Let me think about this,” he said a little numbly.
Somehow thinking didn’t come so clearly anymore.
For the past seven years he’d had her perfectly pegged, had thought of nothing else but the moment when he would have her under his control, doing his bidding …
paying his price. Now everything was so damn complicated.
“I’m going to get you something to eat. You need more nutrition than a half-eaten box of Twinkies is going to provide. ”
She was hungry and weak, so she didn’t argue the point.
Neither did she fight with him about his avoidance of the topic at hand.
She wasn’t exactly capable of heading out into the Dark City looking for all-night takeout.
She wasn’t even sure if she could get past the Watch at this hour.
And frankly, it was too much of a challenge for her exhausted brain and body to cope with.
She heard the door to her apartment shut, and for a long minute she rested with her eyes closed.
They suddenly snapped open and her heart began to race.
Fighting nausea and weakness, she struggled out of bed and onto her feet.
She lurched into the bedroom doorway and then from one wall to another until she had staggered weakly into the kitchen.
She started jerking open cabinet doors, the empty shelves glaring back at her until she pulled open the pathetically empty pantry.
Empty except for a half-full box of Twinkies.
“Son of a bitch,” she said.
She turned around, ignoring the sway and list of the counter-tops, her keen eyes picking apart the bare, undecorated walls. Except for the delicate scrollwork clock that hung at the center of the trim running atop her cabinets.
“No, that’s too awkward an angle,” she muttered as she turned and began to map the kitchen out in her head in a series of ideal angles.
After a moment she picked the angle most likely to give her a clear shot into the pantry, the angle she knew had been seen.
With just a turn of her head she found herself staring straight into the microwave clock, the two dots separating hours from minutes blinking in half-second increments.
She moved closer and looked past that distraction.
Her movement made the lens behind the numbers autofocus.
“Son of a bitch!”
Every night. Every night that she’d been standing here in her kitchen calling him with her updates, doodling absently on her whiteboard, he’d been watching her! Making a bagel naked … singing the latest Aubrey song in her fucking panties!
And since she knew Kincaid Gregory wasn’t the type to do things halfway, she knew there would be cameras in all of the rooms of her home.
Lurching over to the butcher block, she grabbed for the biggest knife it held. Then she slid down to the floor and rested there, conserving her unreliable strength, and waited for Kin to return.