The Rule of Luck (23 page)

“With what?” I asked in growing horror.

She looked at me as if it should have been obvious. “With the two of you. Why do you think the two of you came together in the first place? As I said, luck is seeking to preserve and replicate itself. With your luck and his genetic perfection, I could create gods.” She breathed a sigh and a look of radiant happiness touched her face, making her appear both beautiful and insane. Her earlier irritation disappeared. “Of course, I would have to be allowed to publish. The world needs to know. Publish or perish, after all. I can't even begin to imagine the resulting benefits to the human race. This”—she waved her hand around the room in a dismissive gesture—“is nothing. I don't care what happens to this. When I saw you today, I realized the potential I'd missed. You are my daughter. All this effort spent creating what was in front of me the whole time, worried about keeping myself separate from you, or how you might contaminate the lab results…Such a waste of time.”

“Is that why we've been blacklisted?”

“Naturally,” she said. “I have One Gov connections who worked on my behalf. We wanted a control group. Without those checks on your family, the whole experiment would have been out of balance.”

I stood up abruptly, knocking over my tiny chair in the process. My mother was a monster and I had to get away before I snapped. “I…I need to go. You've given me a lot to consider. I'll have to…think…about how to present this to Mr. Petriv.”

“So you will tell him? Thank you.” She reached out and for an awkward moment, I thought she might hug me. Instead, she offered a hand. “This is the best thing for all involved—you, me, and the Consortium. You're making the smartest decision of your life.”

I shook the hand she extended. It was much easier to extricate myself from that than a hug—a fact I found gratifying since I didn't want to touch her. My gut screamed at me to leave. I agreed. Any longer in her presence and I wasn't sure what I might do.

“I have to go,” I said again.

Monique looked vaguely off into space, getting that look of CN-net contact. Then she shot me a hard look and almost laughed. “I'm not certain why, but the Director's on his way up. What an odd coincidence. You're right, it's best you leave. We'll talk later. There's another elevator around the corner on the other side of this corridor. Use it instead.”

She waved me toward the door. It slid open at my approach; then she all but threw me out into the white hallway. “That way,” she mouthed, pointing right.

In front of me was the elevator we'd used earlier. The overhead readout displayed the ascending floors: 186, 187, 188…I pivoted on my heel and sprinted down the hall. Behind me, I could hear the door to the clones' room close. I paid it no attention; I had to concentrate on my own escape.

Another long hall of white greeted me. I raced its length, my heart pounding in my chest, my gut pushing me to get the hell out as adrenaline flooded my body. I rounded the next corner and found the second elevator. I pressed the call button, horrified to find the overhead display showed it on the ground floor.

I pressed myself against the wall and tried to control my breathing, fighting to keep from taking huge gasping breaths of panic. On the other side of the corridor, I heard the ding of the elevator. Then footsteps: two distinct sets. Then, chatting. Two men, but too far away for me to make out what they said.

My elevator's overhead display showed it had just cleared the 152nd floor. A few more seconds and it would be there, dinging its arrival and announcing itself. The men continued to talk. Fuck! What was I going to do? The elevator cleared 170. Why didn't they go in? Why hadn't Monique done something to distract them? What was she waiting for? Why were they taking so long? Was she testing my luck? Bitch! A look to the elevator. 189. I closed my eyes and prayed to all the deities I knew. Gods, what would happen if I was found out? Would I have my memories wiped and be placed back in my old life in Nairobi with Roy—my
handler
? Would I even remember Petriv? Or would they hand me over to my mother after she convinced them I was vital raw material for some new experiment?

Just when I'd given up hope, the voices stopped. They were gone, whisked away by Monique. A second later, the elevator dinged its arrival. The door opened, revealing an empty interior. I hurled myself inside, pressing the ground floor, breathing a sigh of relief only when the doors closed behind me.

I'd escaped. Was it the luck gene? How could I even tell? The things Monique had told me were so outrageous, I couldn't get my head around them. The clones. My mother's careless cruelty and warped dreams of success. And Petriv…What had I learned about him? Genetic perfection. Had he been created in a genetic stew like the Consortium's chain-breakers? Did I even want to know? Monique implied we were helplessly drawn to each other. Maybe, but given what had happened today, luck had obviously missed its mark. I ran my fingers through my hair and rubbed my face. It was too much. I needed time to absorb it all.

Ground floor. The elevator doors opened and I raced to the exit, my boot heels clicking on the floor and echoing in the cavernous void. Finally, I swung through the front door, free. I filled my lungs with cool night air, trying not to sob my relief. Monique hadn't lied. I could come and go from TransWorld with impunity.

It appeared I was in the city's business district given the neon corporate logos overhead, but with so many massive towers, I couldn't get my bearings. The streets were quiet, but that didn't mean I couldn't get into trouble. I knew nothing about Curitiba—where I was, if I was safe, or where I needed to be.

I ducked into the closest building alcove—a dimly lit side entrance of a tiny restaurant, now closed. A single overhead light stood between me and the darkness. I powered up my c-tex. It would reactivate my nav-look and with any luck—no pun intended—Petriv could track me. Presumably, he was already looking. I scrolled through my messages. Yup, there were numerous shims from him, all with increasing urgency and mounting rage if their curtness was any indication.

I hit Reply on the last one, tapping a quick message that I'd finished with Monique, I needed a ride, and he had to come find me because I had no idea where I was. Then I waited for a reply. And waited. Seconds lengthened until a good five minutes passed. Maybe he was too angry to answer? I'd have to save myself.

I stepped from my alcove and scanned the sidewalk. If they had a Y-line like Nairobi, I could call a pod to the nearest launchpad. That seemed my best option, provided both were close. I scrolled through the local transportation system choices, searching for anything reminiscent of the Y-line. As I scrolled, I heard the scrape of a footstep along the sidewalk. I looked up and saw a figure approach. I tensed, prepared to run. Why hadn't my gut warned me? Things didn't jump out at me! I always knew when something bad was on the way. Except…

Mr. Pennyworth. I swore out loud as he strolled toward me with that irritating, unhurried gait. He stopped a few feet away, regarding me with frustrating inscrutability. The overhead lights were not kind to his features.

“I've been searching for you for several hours,” he said. “You couldn't be traced until you used your c-tex.”

I checked the time: almost midnight. I'd been offline over three hours. “I had no choice. Monique refused to meet otherwise,” I answered as if we were having a reasonable conversation about mundane things. “I decided it was in everyone's best interest to give her what she wanted.”

“It seems she wanted a large number of things.”

I looked back to the TransWorld tower and shivered, feeling hollowed out and haunted. I hugged myself, realizing how terrified I'd been now that I was safe. I let out a shuddering breath and swiped at tears I hadn't known I'd shed. “She does. She wants more than I can give.”

“I've been sent to retrieve you. You can discuss the details when we return to the hotel.”

I nodded, continuing the ruse this was a civilized conversation. “Is he angry?”

We both knew who I meant. “Livid. That's why I'm here. He didn't trust himself with you. He doesn't like when those working for him defy his orders.”

His orders? Well, Mr. Pennyworth was right; I worked for the man. But still…His orders? “Must be my night for unpleasant chats.” I squared my shoulders and tried to prepare myself for whatever came next. I shot Mr. Pennyworth a look. “Your boss is a fickle bastard. He doesn't make it easy to know where you stand with him.”

“Perhaps you bring out the worst in him.”

I cast another glance up at the TransWorld tower. “And maybe I'm just a pawn everyone wants to manipulate until they win the game. Maybe I don't really matter to anyone at all.” I sighed and shook myself. “Alright, let's go back to the hotel and get the firing squad over with.”

I spent the ride staring moodily out the window. Beside me, Mr. Pennyworth was as still and silent as death. Once at the hotel, he took my arm in a firm grip, yanked me from the limo, and handed me over to two chain-breakers.

“My contract here is finished. They will escort you upstairs.”

“Hanging out with me must be very lucrative.” I couldn't help getting in a dig. “I hope Petriv pays you well to keep hauling my ass in and out of trouble.”

Not even so much as an eye twitch from him. “You have no idea. Good luck, Ms. Sevigny.”

I smirked. I couldn't help it, even if it was false bravado. “Didn't you know? All my luck's good. I'll have Petriv eating out of my hand in no time.”

“That is something I would enjoy seeing.” He sauntered down the street, out of sight.

As for me, I was escorted into the hotel to face Alexei Petriv's displeasure.

The elevator took us to the penthouse. It required specific AI permission, meaning I couldn't have come up even if I'd wanted to. With a chain-breaker on either side, I felt like a prisoner. Did they think after one visit with my mother I'd flipped over to TransWorld? Was that the reason for the heavy-handed treatment? Or was it a reflection of Petriv's anger?

The elevator doors opened and we stepped into a massive foyer the likes of which I'd never seen in a hotel room. I took in the checkerboard-tiled floor, the massive chandelier, the gold-leaf walls, and the ornate marble table in the center of it all with an arrangement of white lilies and tulips so large, I couldn't see around it. Apparently this was what endless gold notes got you.

One of the security guards took my arm and ushered me inside. My anxiety kicked up another notch and my heart beat with enough force to feel like it might actually leave my chest. I tried to calm down. I wasn't a prisoner. I had valuable information Petriv would find useful. I knew the real problem: I didn't want to face him. He'd left me an unstable mess. I wanted—and didn't want—to see him. Further, given what Monique had said, was it even safe for us to be around each other?

We entered a sitting room. My suite had the same, but not on such an intimidating scale. This room had a lush cream carpet, floor-to-ceiling windows, several chandeliers to match the one in the foyer, and endless arrangements of furniture. People were scattered about, talking quietly. Oksana. Her husband, Vadim. Other security detail given the suits and uniformity of their appearance. Also, possibly other Tsarist Consortium members—three people I'd never seen before. Interestingly, no Petriv. I looked at the newcomers. Each appeared to be in their mid-twenties to early thirties, but I caught that hard look around the eyes and knew some weren't as young as they appeared. Again, I recalled Monique's words—the Tsarist Consortium had perfected genetic manipulation long ago. I thought of Konstantin and Grigori and knew she was right. I also knew how badly she must want to be where I stood right now.

I felt all eyes on me. Wonderful. “Don't stop the party on my account.” Gods, where had that come from? “I'm just glad to be invited.”

Oksana rushed to my side. She threw her arms around me in a dramatic hug, pulling me away from the chain-breakers. “I'm so glad you're alright! I was so worried.”

“Thanks for the concern,” I answered, returning it. Then I pulled away to look at her. “Where is he?”

She nodded slightly, indicating behind me. Shit. I went rigid, not sure what to do next, then decided just to whirl and face him. Oksana's grip held me in place, stopping me. “Tread lightly. I've never seen him this angry. Stop him from doing something reckless,” she whispered.

“How?” I whispered back.

“By being what he needs.”

“I'm not even sure I know what the hell that is.”

“You both need to stop lying to yourselves and denying the truth of what you want. You're the only one who can fix him.” And before I could say another word, Oksana spun me around.

Petriv leaned against the doorframe to what I assumed was a bedroom. The room behind him was in partial shadow so I couldn't be sure. Had he been resting? It seemed odd all things considered, but I let it go. He had a drink in his hand which he finished as soon as I turned, letting the empty glass dangle from his fingers. He wore a white shirt, hanging open to reveal the tattoos I'd seen days before. He had yet to shave and his dark hair was a tousled mess. My throat went dry just looking at him.

His blue eyes caught and pinned me. The weight of that gaze was too much. I wanted to sink into a chair, look away, close my eyes—anything to avoid it. He barked something in Russian. I didn't know what it meant, but it was definitely an order. Someone spoke up, in protest I think. Without taking his eyes from me, he repeated himself. The room cleared. I heard chairs scraping, the sound of feet, and doors closing until only the two of us remained.

“What did you tell them?” I whispered.

“If they didn't leave within two minutes, they would not live to see morning.”

“Oh.” Yup, I needed to sit and think about what I wanted to say next. I had the feeling if I said the wrong thing, something scary would happen. Unfortunately, there were no nearby chairs and I felt too rooted to the spot to move.
Fix him,
Oksana had said. How the hell did I do that? And what truth was I supposed to stop denying? “Do you want to know what I found out tonight?”

Silence. Instead, he went to the wet bar on the other side of the room, poured another drink, and downed it in one long swallow.

“Seems like a waste of a glass if that's how you plan on taking care of business,” I observed, because I just couldn't seem to hold back the smart-ass answers. Then I plowed on with, “Monique took me to TransWorld's headquarters. Sorry I couldn't wait for you but she called the shots. On the plus side, I found out how they're using the luck gene.”

Petriv poured yet another drink and drained it as quickly as he had the previous two. Earlier he'd said it was nearly impossible for him to get drunk, but it looked like he was putting a solid effort into it now. I frowned, uncertain how to continue.

“Why don't I come back later when you're feeling more like yourself?” I tried.

“You will stay exactly where you are,” he said without turning.

Okay, then. I blew out a sigh, though I would have preferred to scream. “Gods, I am so
sick
of taking this bullshit from everyone! I'm not a slave for you to order around. I did what I thought you wanted, so give it a rest. I found out about Monique and TransWorld tonight. I also have an idea how to derail the bid, if you're interested. Let me tell you what happened and you can decide how to handle it. Then…the Consortium will have what it wants, you can remove my blacklisted status, and it'll be like none of this ever happened.”

“But it did happen, Ms. Sevigny.” He walked toward me as he spoke, empty glass in hand. Every move both terrified and aroused me whether I wanted to feel that way or not. “Isn't that what you said earlier? That it's already started?”

“And you were very clear that things weren't going any further,” I replied, reasonably, I thought. My voice didn't waver in the least.

“Which I assume is why you were in the hotel bar this evening, soliciting ‘revenge sex.' ”

I'm not sure what my expression was. Horror, maybe. “I wasn't…I mean…I might have said something like that…” Shit, this wasn't coming out right. “How do you even know that?”

“Your last c-tex location was the hotel bar. I accessed the memory blocks of the hotel guests and found the data stored in the CN-net.”

I stared at him. Memory blocks on the CN-net had the best encryption in the tri-system and he'd cracked it? Not just for one person, but for everyone in the entire hotel. How was that even possible?

“That's illegal!” I sputtered, trying to cover my surprise. Petriv merely shrugged a shoulder with disdain. “Some guy just wanted to buy me a drink.”

“
Just
?”

“Okay, maybe not ‘just,' but it meant nothing.”

“But presumably it would have become something had you not been interrupted.”

“I don't know. Maybe. I don't have to defend myself to you.”

Petriv prowled around me. I stood in place, refusing to let him intimidate me. “What matters is, had it happened, I would have hated to have to kill him. He's now on his way home and will be barred from all air travel for the rest of his life. You will not be seeing him again. Ever.”

“What? That's crazy! You have no say in what I do with my personal life!”

He stood behind me, so close I could feel his body heat and smell alcohol on his breath. I fought to hold myself still; if I moved so much as an inch, we would be touching. I closed my eyes, trying not to let his nearness scatter my thoughts.

“I don't share what's mine, Ms. Sevigny,” he murmured in my ear, his voice a soft growl. “Not with anyone.”

“I'm not yours. We have a business arrangement. In a few days, we'll go back to our regular lives and can forget we ever met.”

“Is that what you think will happen?”

His left hand brushed my shoulder and I could feel his lips move lightly over my hair. It took everything in me not to run from the room. I shivered instead. How could he talk so causally about killing a man just because I spoke to him? This was jealousy and possessiveness amped to a level I'd never experienced before. It felt like we'd gone so far beyond normal, I needed to get away from him just for my own sanity.

“That's what you said you wanted this afternoon and after listening to Monique and seeing you like this, I think you were right. It's obvious we're not good together. It's best if I leave for Nairobi and we get away from each other as soon as possible.”

With a violence that didn't surprise me, he hurled his glass and it shattered against the far wall. He whirled me around, fingers digging hard into my shoulders, and drew me in until we were inches apart, his expression wild.

“What did that bitch say to you?”

“Does it matter? You're the one who doesn't want complicated, remember? You're the one who thinks
relationship
is a dirty word. Did you ever think maybe I don't want a relationship either? After all, look at how spectacularly my last one ended. Maybe…maybe I just want to know what you're like in bed and then I'll be on my way!”

That seemed to enrage him more. He shook me then, not hard, but enough to shut my mouth. “Do you truly believe it would only be one night together and we would both walk away? That it all stops because you want it to?”

“Yes. That's exactly what's going to happen. It's just sex, after all. Uncomplicated sex!” I shouted, trying to get free of his hands. His fingers tightened, illustrating how impossible that was. “That's what you want, isn't it? So let's just do it and get it over with. You want me one minute, you don't the next, so fine! Let's pick a time when you do and then be done with it, because right now, I don't know what the hell you want from me!”

For a moment, it looked like he might do just that—throw me over a table and fuck me, putting us both out of our misery. I watched him visibly fight for calm until he asked, “Did your mother explain the luck gene to you?”

The question was so out of left field, it surprised me into silence. I ignored my aching shoulders and focused on my answer. “She said it warps everything so it always goes in my favor. She said it would warp…you.” Realization hit me. “You already knew.”

“I've always known. From the moment I learned you existed, I knew I would be drawn into the paradox surrounding you. It was inevitable. Luck would find a way to twist us both into whatever the other needed.”

I frowned. “And you're trying to fight it, is that it? Is this some sick test of your willpower to see if you can resist me?” I started struggling again, more pissed than ever. “Do you have any idea how much this is messing with my head? I don't want to be this…force that makes people afraid to be around me because they're scared I'll change how they really feel. If that's what you believe about me, why bother coming into my shop at all? You could have walked away and never laid eyes on me.”

He smiled ruefully and something in it tugged at my heart. “Because I didn't want to avoid it. You were the challenge I couldn't help but accept and the prize I became obsessed with winning. Would I be ensnared in luck's web, or would I survive unscathed? The more I considered the puzzle you represented, the more consumed I became with the answer. I wanted to know how I would feel once we met. Would things be any different?”

I looked at him incredulously. “And how did that work out for you?”

“What do you think? One minute I was idly wondering about the mechanics of luck. The next, I was leaving your shop, knowing I would go insane if I couldn't have you.”

My heart suddenly took off at a gallop. “Have me how?” I asked, faintly.

“Have you in every way possible,” he murmured. “I knew I would never want to let you go, and nothing else would matter to me but this.”

I stopped fighting altogether and sagged in his arms. I felt an amazed sort of awe as he spoke, stunned he could feel something this overwhelming for me or that he would even admit it. “You make it sound like it's a bad thing.”

“Because it is. I can't be consumed by this and be what the Consortium needs. I wasn't made to feel like this. I'm rational. Logical. Precise. That is who I am. Instead, since I met you, I have no control. No logic. I would destroy everything the Consortium has worked for, everything I am, just to have you. I would burn it all to the ground for this one moment, and that knowledge terrifies me.”

As he spoke, his hands swept over my shoulders, down my back, and to the base of my spine in a caress that left me breathless. I brought my hands between us, pushing against his bare chest if only to keep a semblance of distance. His intensity mesmerized me. I could feel his heart racing beneath my palms and his skin felt hot to the touch. I hadn't realized I was so cold.

“You're scaring me,” I whispered, eyes on his chest. I let my fingers trace the elaborate crucifix tattoo there. “I've never wanted anything as much as I want you and I'm afraid of that. These past few days with you—I feel like I've gone crazy because I can't get you out of my head. Even when I thought it was wrong to be with you, I still couldn't stop myself. But after what Monique said about the luck gene, I'm scared I'll wake up one day and want someone else because luck has decided something better has come along. What if it makes what seems so real right now just disappear? I'm so afraid that this, and you, will mean nothing to me, and I don't want that to happen. What would you do then?”