Page 36 of A Mate For Matrix
“Soon, she won’t be. You know, there will be times when it will be necessary, for her safety, to?—”
“I know. I… will deal with it when the time comes. It is just difficult at the moment,” he interrupted.
“I’ll hold the ship until you return. Over,” K-Nine chuckled.
Rubbing at the fine, white powdered sugar clinging stubbornly to his fingertips, Matrix blew out a breath and glared at the store, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. Preoccupied, he nearly didn't notice the vehicle that screeched to a halt near the store's entrance, parking clumsily in the space marked with a blue and white wheelchair sign.
His jaw locked as he analyzed the vehicle.
Same make. Same model. Same tinted windows.
A memory surged—Jana, furious, spitting at the man who had murdered the kittens’ mother and discarded them and their siblings like trash. The man who had dared to raise a hand to Jana.
Matrix’s hand moved without conscious thought, finding the latch for the van’s door. It clicked open with a snick.
He didn’t need a retinal scan or enhanced targeting overlay to confirm identity.
It was him.
Herman Marker.
The man who had made Jana cry.
Matrix stepped out of the van, his boots landing with deadly precision on the cracked asphalt. His glasses reflected the glare of the afternoon sun as his gaze zeroed in on the figure emerging from the SUV.
The man looked the same. A little rougher maybe—dark jacket, dirty jeans, a glint of arrogance in the way he slammed the door. He had the swagger some men used to hide their cowardice, the same sneer on his face as he turned toward the store.
Matrix’s hands flexed.
His weapon systems stayed offline—for now—but every enhanced nerve in his body was braced. Ready.
He began to move.
Deliberate. Silent. The tension coiled low in his back as he crossed the parking lot like a shadow with teeth.
This wasn’t recon. This wasn’t intel.
This was about protection. Elimination of a threat.
He reached the entrance of the store; the door whooshed open as the sensor caught him. The cool air washed over him, but it didn’t dull the burn inside.
He would not allow this man to get close to Jana again.
Not while he lived.
Not while he still drew breath.
Jana crouched in the hygiene aisle, one knee nearly brushing the cracked linoleum as she scanned the toothpaste shelf. She was comparing options—mint or whitening, cavity protection or baking soda—when she finally sighed and grabbed three of each. Might as well stock up. It wasn’t like they’d have Colgate on the other side of the galaxy, but they had to have something because Matrix had gorgeous teeth.
She shifted to stand?—
A hand slid across her backside.
She froze, every muscle locking.
A sick, oily presence coiled behind her—familiar, loathed, and wrong.
Straightening with a start, she turned to find Herman standing far too close, an arrogant sneer pulling at his puckered lips.
