Lie to Me (4 page)

At the moment, the terrorist’s focus seemed to center on the next clinic that offered aid to the last ones hit. Wary about being the next target, the remaining Regents grew slow to offer assistance.

“Mark Evans, Regency Director to Regent Jones, requests a moment of your time.” James shut the door behind him. “Line one.”

Probably to beg for use of my clinic
.
Again.
Stone would tell the fucker where he could shove his request. “If you’d told Jones to go to hell like I told you two months ago, he wouldn’t be wasting our time.”

James shrugged. “Sometimes even rebellious Regents have to play nice.”

Wise words, but he needled his friend for spite. “Says who?”

“Me. Pick up the goddamn phone.”

Stone chuckled, but connected the call, placing it on speaker. “I’ve got five minutes, don’t waste my time.”

“Mack Ellason, a resident of Quad2, has information on your not-so-deceased wife.”

Stone’s gaze shot to James. Hope stabbed him in the heart like a physical blow. “What?”

“Disregard Regent Emmerson’s question.” James took over the call, giving Stone his ‘shut the fuck up’ glare. “What game are you playing, Mr. Evans?”

Ignoring his question, Mark said, “You’ll find Mack Ellason in Quadrant2.”

“You’re a goddamn liar, Director, causing further tragedy where none is needed.”

“I assure you there’s proof
with
Mack Ellason. Regent Emmerson’s wife still lives.” The smarmy drawl of the Director gave Stone pause. Would he sound so smug about delivering falsehoods unless he spoke the truth?

“I require evidence.” James maintained the conversation. Thank God his friend wasn’t thinking with his heart like Stone.

“I just sent an email of a photo. Pay particular attention to the timestamp.” Stone scrambled to open his email as the Director continued. “Don’t believe the veracity of the picture, that’s your loss, Regent Emmerson.” A
tap, tap, tap
came from the Director’s line. Tapping a fingernail on his desk, maybe? “Give it a little credit, and a visit to Quad2 will be required. Once you meet Mack Ellason, all questions will be resolved immediately. Mack has all the answers you seek.”

“Why didn’t Mack Ellason contact us himself?” James again because Stone couldn’t think clearly, although Mack Ellason sounded a little like Mackella. A coincidence? His gut said no because he didn’t believe in coincidences, while his heart screamed with elation, and his mind cautioned to slow down and not jump to conclusions that would end in a second broken heart.

James inclined his head, while the Director answered. “Mack’s not expecting you.
He
would most likely run if
he
discovered I called you and notified you of
his
affiliation with your wife.” Stone frowned, wondering why Mark enunciated the male pronouns, but he didn’t ask and Mark kept talking. “Afraid of reprisals I believe. I would be if I’d hoodwinked a Regent.”

Stone ground his teeth together at that mockery. Opening his email, he clicked on the attachment, and a picture of Kella popped up. The time stamp was one month after her alleged death. At his indrawn breath, James moved to peer over Stone’s shoulder.

After a long pause, James said, “We’ll be in touch.” His bodyguard disconnected the call. “Don’t get your hopes up, Stone.”

“I can’t not see this through to the end. This is Kella we’re talking about. My wife. If there’s a possibility—”

“Pictures aren’t proof. They’re easily manipulated.”

Stone pushed back his chair and walked away from the image of Kella. The horror of her features on the auction block haunted him. Had haunted him for eight goddamn years. “I’m not stupid. I know that.”

“Brother, if Kella is alive, why didn’t she return to you?”

O
ctober 21, 2282 A.E.E.

––––––––

“
Sweet home Alabama
...” Mackella Starke sang along with the song blaring through the Bluetooth speaker she’d unearthed along with its portable friend in a suitcase at her current dig. Surprisingly the ancient device required only a charge and a little cleaning. That it worked at all over a hundred years after being buried was remarkable.

Best she could verify from the information she had, the music consisted of a bunch of what their time called country rock and was sang by a band called Lynyrd Skynyrd. Weird name, but she liked the tune either way.

The slight tingle that announced someone entered her office was almost drowned out by the music’s volume. Glancing over her shoulder, she spied six burly men, each armed with various weapons, as they strode into her office. Turning to face them, she set aside the other Bluetooth speaker she’d been working on in hopes she could get it working again. Devices like these could bring a fortune in profits.

“Gentlemen,” she said, eyeing the purple stripe on the shoulder of their uniforms, which indicated they visited from Stone Emmerson’s Quadrant. A little out of their jurisdiction, but a Regent didn’t concern oneself with something like territory. Regents held all-inclusive power within their Quadrant, so most were avoided at all costs. Even going against their minions was considered a direct infraction against the Regent. Rebelling a directive gained one a web of problems, even when the Regent was outside his jurisdiction. Their word was the law. Judge, jury, and executioner, too. She’d learned that the hard way. Trouble was the last thing she wanted or needed, and her history with Stone could lead to a host of unwanted woes.

Thank God she went by a different name now and wasn’t visually recognizable as his wife.

Deciding she’d borrow trouble only if it presented itself, she scrutinized the male who blocked her view as he stationed himself directly in front of her. The others spread out as if they expected her to run. She’d run once before, and she might again if left with no alternative, but they couldn’t know that. Hopefully.

Kella lowered the volume of the music.

“May I assist you somehow, gentlemen?” The question was directed to the man guarding the only exit, but another voice answered.

“We’re looking for Mack Ellason.”

She peered around the one blocking her view, but then
the voice
stepped around the man. Shoulder-length, chocolate hair, parted at the side, hung straight and shiny. Square jaw shadowed with scruff and a pair of well-defined, sensuous lips. Straight nose that led to a pair of cool, ice-blue eyes. Eyes that should seem cold but every time he’d turned them on her as kids, they’d warmed her up. He stared straight at her, his confidence large and in her face, causing her to struggle to maintain eye contact.

Stone Emmerson. In the flesh. Sporting new muscles to go along with his grown-up face.

Kella swallowed and folded her arms across her abdomen so their sudden shaking wouldn’t be noticeable, all while praying her sudden spike of nerves remained hidden.

No way he recognized her. She’d disguised her appearance years ago with an outdated and extremely illegal vanity chip. Before the pestilence, V-chips had been used to enhance one’s appearance. She’d dumbed down her looks by changing her black hair to dirty blonde and her emerald eyes to dark brown. Her once bronzed skin tone had been altered to a fair and splotchy quality, and she’d even added a crook to her nose. The tattoo on her neck identifying her as the property of Stone Emmerson had been airbrushed away with a simple push of a button, thanks to the banned machinery. The V-chip was a piece of engineering ingenuity. Nothing freaked the Regents out like equipment the elders had once used since the ancients were the cause of the pestilence that almost wiped out humanity.

The alterations were permanent until a retro scanner—or an R-scanner—was used on her, and that device would erase all her work at hiding her real appearance. Her husband might have one, but she didn’t plan on getting anywhere near it.

Her pet, Retro, must’ve sensed her unease because she placed her paws on Kella’s legs and gave a low squeak. Out of habit, Kella picked her up.

“Mack Ellason.” Stone Emmerson reminded, staring at her from the haughty slant of his head. “You know where we can find him?” he asked as his gaze left her and slid about her establishment.

“You’ve found
her
.” That got his full attention. His focus whiplashed back to her, and his eyebrows elevated. Pleased her voice remained steady, she motioned to the seat opposite her while taking her own seat. “Care to take a load off, Regent?”

“I’m surprised you know who I am.”

“I read the papers. You’re in them a lot.”

His gaze felt like a twenty-ton meteor headed straight for her. “My photograph isn’t in the papers.”

“No.” She leaned over and retrieved a scandal sheet—similar to the twenty-first century’s tabloids, only these printed the truth the Regent-owned papers failed to account. As she sat forward to offer him the scandal sheet, at least one weapon being primed to fire cracked about the room. Kella just barely caught herself from rolling her eyes. “Call your dogs off. I don’t carry weapons.”

Stone accepted the tabloid, but remained fixated on her. “You’re a relic pirate,” his tone implied her occupation inferred weapon usage.

“Technically speaking, I’m a vintage archeologist. I don’t pirate loot the government already laid a claim to.” Yeah, so she pirated relics
before
the government’s Regents could claim the stuff. No law against it—yet—even if they loathed the practice.

“Lower your weapons.” Stone studied the scandal sheet and grimaced at his face splashed across the page with a woman named Katarina or something like that. Despite his displeasure, he made no effort to deny he’d been caught in the altercation. Damn him for impressing her with that. “I wasn’t aware Mack Ellason was a female.”

“Does it make a difference?”

“No.” He tossed the scandal sheet back on her desk. “That thing in your lap licking a paw—at least I think it’s a paw—what the hell is it?”

A genetically spliced creature their ancestors created for the fucking fun of it. It was a cross between a kitten and puppy. “A kippy.”

Stone eyed Retro like he expected the pet to tear his face off any second. “They were outlawed. What, fifty years ago?”

“I didn’t make it.” She rolled her eyes. “I found her at a dig site. Or she found me a couple of years ago. I logged her in legally, and no one challenged my ownership. I’m guessing she bred naturally, but I can’t confirm that.”

Giving the thing a cautious eye, he grunted, and glanced at a guard, probably his mental note to double check the filing on Retro. “Maybe no one challenged your ownership because none wanted it.”

“Or maybe it’s because it’s not so weird for an archeologist to own something from the ancient world.”

Another grunt sufficed as Stone’s reply.

“Her name’s Retro. She’s super sweet.” As if to prove her right, the fur-ball began to purr. At least what Kella called purring. It was more a cross between purring and growling.

“Retro’s an odd name.”

“She’s historical and outdated, so Retro is a perfect name.” No one could argue that logic.

Absentmindedly, her fingers slid through the fur, and the purring grew louder. Retro tilted her fur-puffy head toward Kella’s digits begging for more attention in a particular spot.

Satan strode toward her—his human name was James Monroe, but he was Satan in disguise, and he served as Stone’s very intuitive bodyguard. “I’d purr too if she rubbed me like that.”

What a pig
! Kella glared at James, eliciting a chuckle from him.

Really wishing Stone would sit, she pointed at the chair opposite her. “Regent?” Her neck ached from craning her head back to look at him. And damned if he hadn’t turned out better looking than she’d anticipated. Not that she wanted to go running back home to him. Okay, well she did, but she wouldn’t because being owned hadn’t been her goal in life then or now. When he remained standing, she decided to move the conversation forward. “How may I be of service?”

He placed his gloves on her desk and fingered a metal wind-up toy in the shape of a dog. “If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t sound very Northern, Miss Ellason...or is it Mrs.?”

“I’m single, and I’m not from the North. Would you care to see my papers?” Her benefactor had paid a small fortune for her paperwork so she knew they’d stand up to his inspection.

“No need.” He made a waving motion with his hand as if she offered them to him. “I’m searching for Mark Evans. Know where I can find him?”

“No. I deal with his associate, Kris Stoddard. I don’t contact her, she contacts me.”

His dark eyebrows flashed upward.

She asked, “Does something surprise you?”

“You didn’t deny knowing them. I’m not used to straight-shooting, Miss Ellason.”

“Call me Mack.” Why’d she make that offer? She didn’t want him calling her anything. Instead, she wanted him out of her office, out of her Quadrant, and hopefully he’d already forgotten Kella Starke existed. Regardless of her hope, she knew he hadn’t forgotten his only wife. “I have nothing to hide. Mr. Evans isn’t my biggest client. I only have dealings with his associate when he wants me to keep an eye out for something.”

“How do you contact him when you locate the item?”

“I don’t. As I said, they contact me. I might hold onto an item for months before I hear from them again.”

Stone finally sat in the chair across from her desk. He leaned forward and hooked hair behind an ear. Something about the movement reminded her of the boy she’d known from when they’d grown up together. Not wanting to remember those idyllic days, Kella shook the memories aside.

“Are you holding anything for him now?”

“A butane lighter.”

He smiled, and her stomach executed a funny roll.

“Excellent.” She feared this wasn’t an excellent moment for her. “You are my new best friend, Miss Ellason.” They’d been best friends once—before he’d betrayed her and bought her like cattle. “Might be easier to sell if you’re my lover instead.”

“Pardon?” No way she’d heard him correctly. She’d escaped being his lover once before, she wasn’t about to jump back into that particular frying pan.