{Earth}

Lynn sat with Andrew for an hour after his breathing turned even. The man always struck her as tender and eager to help anyone. To see him in so much anguish set her teeth on edge.

With renewed purpose, Chief Lynn headed down to the labs. She snuggled deeper into the sweater she forever borrowed from Pablo as she accessed a Tritan-grade terminal. Similar to the tech in the arsenal, she navigated the database until she retrieved the file she wanted.

Twenty-One’s image stared back at her. The heavy-set Icarus wore the same patient and, frankly, kind expression in the archived footage of his tenure since Volcano Day. Perfect health. Excellent reflexes. But the most recent round of testing interested Lynn and the arsenal’s secret benefactors.

Abresson came to them and requested a weapon. One which targeted and disabled nacre from a fifteen-foot distance. Predicting mutual benefits, The Brethren accepted his request. And Lynn engineered it.

Imagine how many wars they could stop. How many lives saved. How many disabled weaponized nacres like a certain sleeping King.

The arsenal successfully created it. And then they lied to the Tritans. As far as Enki knew, the disabler failed. The Brethren partially withheld the truth because it required more testing and extensive monitoring that the tyrants refused to endorse.

But mostly because The Brethren wanted Rayne’s approval.

See, they were good guys after all. But the top secret project might turn stomachs and more than a few heads, so they forbade Lynn to share it with even Pablo.

This was their future.

With that in mind, she believed the Tritans wouldn’t dream of creating a weapon like this without a counter. And she found it in Pablo’s tests on Twenty-One. Staring at the file, Lynn recognized the chain of releases in nanite functions. But in reverse. A virus, with Dr. Suarez’s signature attached to it, prevented tampering with the carrier’s nacre. Another signature on the form next to her husband’s name chilled Lynn’s blood.

Abresson.

One weapon neutralized Rayne for potential assassination. The other shielded her nacre beyond manipulation. Permanently. The virus’s antibodies never left the nacre’s systemic drive.

Jack Callahan made for a helluva trial subject.

How could Lynn not anticipate this? Pablo tested the virus on Twenty-One. She knew that. It made him the perfect candidate for testing the disabler. But she didn’t know Abresson ordered it until now.

Is that why Imminent wanted the prisoner of war? To reverse engineer it and manufacture it? To weaponize it?

Or did they mean to lock Rayne in that Weapon forever?

A knock on the door startled Lynn. She turned to find Pablo leaning in the doorway, hands in his labcoat pockets. Even with a nacre, he had bags under his warm brown eyes.

“I’m glad to see you up and around.” He nodded to the terminal. “Does it help with the stress?”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Lynn smiled weakly at him. She wanted so badly to try for him. “It’s a distraction. But I think I’m onto something helpful.”

He grabbed the nearest office chair, pulled it up, and straddled it. “I’m looking forward to any good news at this point.”

She winced with concern. “I’m not sure how good I’d call the news. I think they intended to replace me with that copy. To gain access to the weapons. To this one in particular.” She pointed to the screen.

Pablo leaned across her to read it. “The nacre lock?” Stretched forward, he spoke the words close to her ear.

The warmth beckoned goosebumps to freckle her dark skin. Well, at least Lynn’s sex drive recovered. Now if her sanity would please follow, she could salvage this vacation with her husband, solve the damned case, and kick Imminent to the curb.

“It pairs with the weapon we wanted to test on Twenty-One. That’s why Imminent came for him.” She turned to her husband.

He turned to her. Their eyes only an inch apart. Pablo licked his lips. Lynn’s heart somersaulted in her chest.

“There you are,” he breathed against her lips. Brushing a loc from her face, he leaned into kiss her.

And damn her, Chief Lynn stopped him with a finger against his soft, full, tantalizing—

“No.” She shook her head, as much to dissuade him as to stop herself. “We need to focus. Then after, I plan to mark every surface in this lab with you. But not until we solve this.”

He smirked and mercifully put some distance between them. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now listen carefully and tell me if you think I’m onto something.”

Lynn told him about the nacre disabler and about her theory involving Imminent’s intentions.

“Abresson requested these. Why would he put his name to it? Not exactly clandestine,” Pablo reasonably pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. The man always pointed things out reasonably. “He’s cocky and important. He doesn’t think it matters. And maybe if they succeeded, it wouldn’t matter. I’d be dead and the other Lynn would cover his tracks…” Her words grew breathier until they trailed off.

Dead. Replaced.

A warm hand took hers and brought Lynn back around. “You’re doing great. This is the sort of evidence we need for the Progeny. Possibly The Brethren. And you’re here, Lynn. You’re safe.”

Lynn nodded a few too many times and a little too quickly. Pablo pressed his lips to hers. One peck. Two. A deeper kiss. Soft, warm. His scent so familiar. She brushed her fingers into his black hair, coiled soft and thick. The tangible access to him comforted her. Fought back the anxiety and replaced it with something much more preferable.

She hopped off her chair and into his lap, straddling him in the chair. Lynn liked him in scrubs. She always knew how happy Pablo was to have her this close to him. He moaned. She purred.

The sweater disappeared first. Then the bra. He covered every exposed inch of her with his eager hands. When he squeezed her ass, she cried out for him and ground against him.

Pablo was very happy.

“…Do we know when the testing will complete—Oh! I wasn’t aware The Brethren included this incentive in your salary.”

Lynn yelped and hid herself inside Pablo’s labcoat. Lights blinded them. Once her sore eyes adjusted, she groaned. And not the sexy kind.

Abresson stood in the doorway with Tumu in tow. He made no effort to look away from the couple in the room. Pablo glared at him as he swiveled the chair to shield Lynn’s nudity. He helped her get dressed with as little exposure as possible.

Meanwhile, she barely registered her surroundings. Too many shocks, too close together. Her head felt airy and fuzzy. “I think I need to lie down.”

Abresson huffed. “Yes. Why don’t you find a residential cabin to ‘rest’ in rather than the semi-public laboratory?”

“Eminent.” Tumu’s voice held a warning.

Tameka bolted around him into the room. Her voice held genuine remorse, “I’m so sorry. I tried to get here first, but there were too many people who needed to talk to me. How are you doing?”

As she searched Lynn’s gaze, the darker woman took in so much compassion. “I’m making it. We’ll catch up after my nap. Pablo, can you come with me?”

He put a comforting hand on her back and walked her out of the lab. They both expected some snide remark from Abresson. But they passed him without incident.

Instead, Tumu followed them out. He looked sheepish—if that could be said for a Tritan—as he requested, “I need a favor. And you can’t tell Tameka.”

Pablo and Lynn exchanged a look. Honestly, all this exceeded her capacity for the day. But still she took the bait. “What is it?”

“I need you to take a sample of Pax’s blood. And run this list of tests for me.”

Take blood from the son of Fury and Wingmaster. Endanger the foundation of their friendship. Fall deeper into the Tritan agenda.

“Sure, why not?”