Page 49 of Smart@ss Cyborg

Stella has her hand on one of his pantleg-covered thighs. It’s a stalling gesture, I think. But unless he has better tech than what I’ve been fitted with, he won’t be able to feel her touch on his C-legs like he would elsewhere on his body. However, his limbs should have sensors that provide him with biofeedback. If so, he’s likely aware of her hand’s pressure and warmth on his cybernetic limb.

If he has decent tech, he’s also probably receiving the feedback that his wife’s hand is trembling.

I can see that it is from here.

That could explain part of his aggression. I would be very upset if Becky were so distraught that she were shaking.

I glance down at her. My eyes scan her hands, which she’s wringing.

Her fingersarequaking.

A bolt of fury takes me. “Who is this human? Is this the same Boss Alvert who took over the livery stable?” I ask dangerously.

C’vest scoffs. “STOLE it, you mean. And he’s a rival,” he growls. His eyes are nearly solid blue, a mass of scrolling data lighting up his orbs. “He’s been making moves to run this town.” His jaw clenches. “As you’re aware, by Traxian law, if a man marries a woman, all her assets become his. I couldn’tprovethat he killed Baron. But Alvert hated him. And Baron owned a lot of land, a lot of cattle, and a river—and with Stella as his widow, there was this surefire way to swoop in and legally lay claim to all of it. Baron’s death was…” His jaw works. “Tooconvenient.”

His mate flinches.

C’vest reaches down and cups her face, the tender gesture at odds with the areas in his brain lit up for aggression.

Releasing his mate, eyes scanning the people milling around the nearby shops, he coolly retakes his seat in the wagon. “I still can’t prove he did it. But I know that I know that IknowAlvert is responsible for Baron’s death.” He pins me with a look that raises the fine scales on the backs of my arms. “But I just heard that he made Becky a widow so that he could take her land. That’s all I need to hear. He’s a dead man.”

Becky is trembling now, infuriating me.Yes.This Boss Alvert is as good as a dead man.

“When his man didn’t return with me…” Becky remarks, her voice strange and faint. “He had to wonderwhy.It’s surprising he didn’t send goons to scout our homestead.”

“He did,” I say.

Everyone looks at me.

“It was on day two of building a fence,” I tell Becky. “The pain had put me in a somewhat negative mood—”

“You were in asavagemood,” Becky points out.

I incline my head. “That is perhaps an honest assessment. The trio of cowboys who rode up and asked after you in a threatening mannerwould likely agree, if they were still alive. But they aren’t. I skipped eating the breakfast you offered to make for me that morning and it was a terrible day. I dispatched them.”

“YouWHAT?”Becky shouts, startling Paco, who lets out a rusty squeak as if echoing her. “You took on three guys and you didn’t say anything?!”

I nod. “One of the cowboys was the same livery stable hand who you confirmed overcharged me for Paco. I sent their horses back the way they came with slaps to their rumps, their dead riders affixed to them with rope. As I said, I was out of sorts that day, partly due to how painful fencing is, partly because no meal compares to what you cook for me, but the outcome of my short temper resulted in no other rivals daring to move on you after that.”

“What brands were their horses wearing?” C’vest asks, voice tight to the point of biting.

Their golden mare nervously chews on the bit in her mouth and shifts her weight uneasily, causing her leather lines to jingle and creak.

I look at C’vest. “The same brand as the horse that belonged to Joel’s murderer. A Scab Six.”

C’vest’s focus flies to his mate’s face. His mate, who is clearly distressed as she hunches over, gripping her stomach. “Stella?”

She gasps. “That’s Alvert’s brand.”

“Yes,” her mate grits out, hunkering low to catch her eyes. “It is. Are you all right?”

Still hugging herself, she shakes her head, and shudders. After a moment, she meets her mate’s worried gaze. “My water just broke.”

CHAPTER 15

“You’re sure?” C’vest asks—with an immediate, preternatural calm I must admire as I send an alarmed look at Becky’s tadpole-swollen belly.

“It’s either that or I peed on myself,” Stella replies.

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