Page 48 of Smart@ss Cyborg

I hardly notice his antics, because I’m watching something concerning in the other Yonderin’s brain. Inside his skull, his brainwaves have sped up, high frequency beta waves entirely taking over his cognitive pattern.

Despite Paco’s nearby fracas, the other Yonderin remains unnaturally focused, too invested in gaining some unknown-to-me but essential-to-him goal, some vital target.

My body tenses, unable to extrapolate what is driving him as he walks so close to Becky and I. My instincts urge me to attack him before he can harm us.

C’vest bends his head and whispers something to his mate in an unmistakable imperative that sounds like,“Ask her.”

His mate throws him a look that I can’t interpret. Something between alarm and refusal.

Her brain gives me more data, yet leaves me with more questions. She’s disturbed, something swirling in the area for fear and trepidation, as well as reluctance. The limbic area of her brain is also activated, perhaps indicating that she’s afraid of making a social faux-pas.

She shakes her head at her mate and tries to pull him closer to her person. To shush him, I believe. “This is our stop,” she says too brightly, waving her hand at the stairs that will take her to a wagon parked several spots ahead of ours. She tries to tug at C’vest yet again, once more attempting to hurry him away.

He helps her down the stairs, then onto their vehicle. But when he gets her seated and his eyes are level with hers, he captures her with his very intense gaze. The blue glow of them amplifies.

“Stella,”he says, not whispering this time. Her name on his tongue sounds urgent.

She slumps and sighs. “Hey, Becky?”

My mate, having caught some of the exchange and able to read and interpret enough of the tension and Stella’s disinclination to be wary, replies, “Yeah?”

She’s standing at my side on the boardwalk in front of their parking space, feet away from their tied horse. Their animal is golden and black, and incredible looking. At any other time I’d be entranced by the coat of the creature, which has a stunning metallic sheen.

Paco must be entranced too. He’s sidled up to it, and he raises his head into the air and lifts his upper lip, curling it up in a flehmen response.

Everyone, even the horse—evidently a mare—ignores him.

Stella’s mate moves to untie the creature, then joins Stella, dropping down beside her and curling a supportive, protective arm around her back.

Stella rushes her words out as I move with the intention to help Becky down a set of nearby steps so that we can head for our own vehicle. “Did Joel’s… I’m sorry to ask this, but did Joel’s murderer mention the name of…” Her face flickers, revealing almost as much turmoil outwardly as her skull is experiencing inwardly. She forces herself to finish asking, “The name of his boss?”

Aggression ignites inside me.

The boss that hired the bad cowboy to kill Joel because he wanted my Becky delivered to his doorstep.

Suddenly I too want this answer.

Beside me, Becky freezes in her tracks. Stricken, she stares down at her boots while I glare over at the other Yonderin male.

As if she knows what I’m doing, Becky pats my arm. One hand gripping her belly, she twists back to Stella. “He did. It was like Albert, or… Al—” she breaks off her reply, sounding frustrated at herself for not remembering such a detail, despite the fact she’s attempting to retrieve information out of a traumatic memory. Statistically, it’s common for humans to have difficulty with their recall in acutely distressing situations. And no one could miss that Becky is upset—she forces her words past a quivering throat. “His boss’s name was Albert Galen… Galen-something.”

Stella bleaches of all color, like a squid that’s been dealt a death blow. It’s exactly that dramatic, as if her nervous system has experienced such a shock that her chromatophores have ceased to function. Through numb-sounding lips, she whispers,“Alvert Galensten.”

Not a question.

“Yes!” Becky confirms, her head snapping up, heat in the word. “Alvert! That’s what it was. AlvertGalensten.” Her eyes are intense on the other woman. “Why?”

C’vest explodes up from the wagon seat in a rage.

Paco honks in surprise and scrambles away from their shiny metallic horse. Our shaggy beast clambers up the steps we’re standing at the head of and slams into me to reach Becky, who pets him, as if, after this upset he’s had to suffer, he requires her comfort.

I don’t push him away because Becky brokenly collapses over him, obviously deriving comfort from him as she gives him an embrace.

I bring my arm around her shoulders and consider peeling the animal away from her for stealingmycomforter privileges. But then Becky turns to me and throws her arms around me, embracing me as tightly as she can manage around the insistent press of our tadpole.

Not content to be set aside and forgotten, Paco catches her skirt in his mouth.

Over Becky’s head, I watch a panting C’vest. He looks entirely the predator now, outwardly as well as inside his skull. He’s incensed. There’s almost a tangible coldness emanating from him.

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