Dangerous Promise Read online

  Nina had been spreading a slice of whole wheat toast with strawberry jam so decadently delicious it was almost depraved. The man lived like a king. Better than a king, as a matter of fact, since the only kings still on thrones all ruled countries that had fallen into poverty, and none of them could afford real strawberry jam. She bit into her toast and chewed slowly, savoring every bite.

  “Same group that’s been behind the rest of the most recent threats, I’d bet,” she said.

  “Yeah. The League of Humanity.”

  “Sounds like something out of a comic viddy. Wow, this is so good. You sure you don’t want some?” She could go days without eating if she had to, suppressing her hunger and running on energy reserves. She didn’t have to now, and she intended to take every advantage of it.

  “That’s . . .” Donahue paused, his gaze flicking to her mouth as his own lips thinned.

  She took another swipe of sweetness off her lips, wondering if she had jam stuck in the corners of her mouth. Maybe he was stingy with his jam. She wouldn’t blame him. This stuff was worth more than gold right now. Literally. “Hmm?”

  “Yeah. It does. The name, I mean. Sounds like something from an old superhero book.” Donahue shifted in his seat. With a shake of his head, he reached for the pot of jam. Nina pushed the special spoon across the table to him.

  “Here’s your fancy jam spoon,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to forget that.”

  “What, you think a guy like me uses some plain old regular spoon?” Donahue’s voice had dipped a little lower than usual, something her enhancements allowed her to notice more than someone else might’ve.

  Donahue wasn’t smiling, but still, the corners of his eyes creased to show that he did, at least, occasionally allow himself a grin or two. Those creases and crinkles were less a sign of age and more like proof the man sitting across from her might actually get his laugh on once in a while. She might not be capable, herself, of the same raucous laughter and giddy joy she sometimes flashed back to remembering, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate someone else’s good humor. Maybe there was hope that this assignment wasn’t going to be one long and consistent pain in the ass.

  She sat back in her chair to eye him up and down. “Heavens, no. A guy like you was probably born with one of those in his mouth. Made of silver, of course.”

  “Of course.” Donahue’s self-mocking tone softened as he spread a piece of bread with the jam and took a bite. He studied her. “You don’t know much about me, do you?”

  Mindful of how he kept eyeing her lips, Nina wiped the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin. It was hard enough to get him to take her seriously; she didn’t need to make a mess of her face, too. “I know what I need to know.”

  “Sure. You know my height, weight, my eating and sleeping habits. You probably know the depth of my bank account, or at least some idea about it. You know the groups that have declared they’re out to get me. What else did you have to study up on before taking this assignment?”

  “That’s about it. Nothing much else was important. I don’t need to know your personal history in order to protect you.” The truth was, she knew a little more about him than she was letting on. You couldn’t get past a gossip site on the net without spotting a picture of Ewan Donahue with a blonde on his arm. Nina didn’t spend much time on sites like that, and even so, she could recall half a dozen different stories about his social life. She poured them both coffee from the self-heating pot on the table. Donahue had the best of everything. Appliances. Technology. Women. She glanced at him. “Cream?”

  “Black. I guess how I take my coffee wasn’t one of the things.” He took the mug she pushed toward him.

  Sipping, Nina sat back in her chair again. She might look relaxed, but even with the mug in her hands she was alert to everything in their surroundings. Besides, a mug of scalding coffee could become a weapon in so many useful ways.

  “Nope,” she said. “Preparing your coffee isn’t part of my job description. I’m your protector, not your future ex–Mrs. Donahue.”

  “There’s never been a Mrs.”

  She smiled a little. “Yeah. I did know that. An ex-wife, kids, that sort of thing would be a vulnerability.”

  “And you would need to know about that,” Donahue said.

  “Yes. It’s useful.”

  His eyes narrowed. “But I don’t have any.”

  “No exes of significance,” Nina said. “Not no vulnerabilities.”

  Donahue didn’t seem to like that at all. Nina couldn’t blame him. She didn’t much like having any, herself.

  “I’ve done everything I can not to be vulnerable,” Donahue said.

  “The highest security. The best tech. Sure. But . . .” Nina paused, looking him over.

  “But what?” Donahue demanded, his frown deepening. “If there’s something I need to be doing to better protect myself, I need to know it.”

  Nina shrugged, uncertain how to put it into words. “Cameras and fences, even an enhanced protector, well . . . all that stuff can keep you safe, but it won’t ever keep you from really being vulnerable. Nothing can totally protect you from that, because everyone has something that someone else can use to get to them with.”

  “Not me.”

  She laughed at that, low and under her breath, and shook her head. “Right.”

  “You’re talking about personal things. Ways someone could get to me. Personal vulnerability. Emotional.”

  “And you don’t have any?” She scoffed. “Everyone has something they—”

  She broke off, her own declaration a lie for herself.

  “Something what?” Donahue challenged in a low voice, his gaze intense. “What? Love?”

  Nina said nothing.

  “No exes. No pets. No family,” he added after the barest second. “Anyway, love is a construct of emotion, ephemeral and insubstantial. You can’t hate or fear or grieve forever, so why should we expect love to last forever? Love is an emotion, and like all emotions, it’s not meant to last.”

  “That’s so cynical,” Nina said.

  Donahue pursed his lips. “Oh, and you’re not?”

  “Not me,” she said with a small grin. “I’m super nice.”

  She sipped again, savoring the heat, the flavor, the comfort of a truly terrific cup of coffee. It had become so hard to find real coffee after the fungus plague that had wiped out more than 90 percent of the world’s coffee bean plants. The synthetic replacement might suit people with less sensitive palates, but she could always tell the difference. Donahue had dropped some serious money on this morning’s beverage.

  “Nice is not a word I’d use to describe you,” Donahue said.

  Contemplating this, Nina let the steam bathe her face before answering. “How would you describe me?”

  “Fierce,” he said at once. “Efficient. Determined. Stubborn . . .”

  “Takes one to know one,” she murmured, and at the sight of his expression at her interruption, she added without much sincerity, “sorry.”

  Donahue didn’t smile. “Strong. Impressive—”

  “Thanks,” she interrupted again.

  “Beautiful,” he added at last, and she didn’t have anything to say to that but a small bleat of surprise. “No? You don’t agree?”

  She thought of her solid, muscular body. She had curves, but they were hard. She thought of her scars. Her eyes narrowed, her head tilting as she looked him over.

  “Should I be grateful you think so?”

  “I’m not asking you for gratitude,” Donahue said with a frown that told her yes, he probably had been. “I’m just telling you the truth.”

  Nina took another slow sip of coffee, relishing the flavor and aroma before she asked, “And if I was ugly? Would that have anything to do with how well or not I can do my job?”

  “Of course not,” Donahue retorted, “but it’s much—”

  He cut himself off so abruptly she heard the click of his teeth together. They stare