Studenstein (Love-Bots, Book Two) (2 page)

He growled and groaned the whole damn way, lifting one arm and pointing up the staircase. “Aaaarg. Naaaaooo!” His head lolled to the side right before he passed out.

“Heavy-ass!” Shani hauled him the last few steps, her knees buckling under his weight. She’d had Frank amp up her system before the assignment, but it was a good thing Royce wasn’t much bigger than she was.

At the bottom of the staircase, Shani leaned him up against the building’s concrete exterior. She tried to prop him so he’d stay upright, but when he slid sideways like a falling tree, she let him slump to the ground.

“Why didn’t you just come like I asked you?” she asked the unconscious body at her feet. Then she nudged it with the toe of her ridiculous boots for good measure. “I got dressed up and everything.”

Shani jogged up the stairs and into the club to retrieve Royce’s belongings. Then she sprinted out the alley to get the van. After she’d hopped into the front seat, Shani hit the Zombie Underground on speed dial. She hooked her headset in her ear before starting the engine.

Q-ter picked up on the first ring. “You got him?”

She pulled away from the curb, easing toward the mouth of the alley. “Nah. He resisted.”

“Imagine that.” Q-ter said it deadpan, but Shani heard the sarcasm.

“Yeah, I guess you called that one.” She rolled past the alley to where three guys from the club congregated around Royce’s body. One of them checked Royce’s pulse and pulled out a phone.

“Shit. They found him already!” Behind the van’s tinted windows, Shani squirmed out of her club gear and into her tracksuit. “They’re probably calling the service. Can you intercept the call?” Shani dug her feet into her sneaks.

“Sorry,
Foxy
. I missed it. You’re gonna have to wing it.”

Shit.
Taking a deep breath, Shani opened the door and stepped her high-top-wearing foot down to the ground. She took three steps toward the group and said in her most authoritative voice, “Hello. I’m here from Synadate
.
This stein belongs to us.”

“Uh…” The bartender looked her over with narrowed eyes. “You got here fast.”

She heard that tone in his voice—questioning, snide, not-trusting. Shani’s lips pinched and she swallowed her comeback. “We always have help nearby in case of malfunctions.”

“Can I see some ID?” He did it again—scanned her from head to foot, passing judgment. Making her prove that she was as good as the next person. Her hands balled into fists. “Of course. I have it right here.” Shani dug in her purse for the fake ID.

“Easy, Shan…” Q-ter spoke in her headset. He must have heard her facade cracking.

“Here you go, sir.”

The guy from the bar took the card from her without touching her skin. He stared at it for several moments—no doubt weighing the option of babysitting a malfunctioning stein against the trouble he’d get into giving Royce to the wrong person.

“Fine. Take him.” The guy waved them away as if he were swatting at flies. It wasn’t surprising. Most lifers were scared of steins. Some states restricted their use to crash-test dummies. It didn’t help that human-rights groups had twice bombed stein-making labs, accidentally releasing hundreds of lobotomized walking corpses into the population.

Shani hooked her hands under Royce’s armpits and hauled him up to leaning. Then she bent over and hoisted him in a fireman’s carry.
Damn
, she thought as she staggered forward over the stress of his weight. Maybe she’d underestimated his bulk.

In the headset, Q-ter squeaked, “I just intercepted a text from Synadate. They’re on their way!”

She swung open the passenger-side door of the van. The back door would have been easier, but the bartender was still watching. He’d expect a gurney and med tech, not a dinette and bed set up for a road trip. Shani lurched upward to toss Royce into the front seat. He fell on his back across the bench, with his legs hanging out the door. Before the other guy could come forward to help, she bent Royce’s knees and pressed his shins into the cab.

Royce lifted his head and their eyes met for a split second right before she slammed the door shut. She heard his garbled groans as she rounded the back of the van. What’s worse—that damn bartender hadn’t left.

“Weren’t you inside earlier?” He didn’t step closer, but Shani could feel his suspicion. She should’ve told him it had been another Synadate model, one built to the same specs as her, but her temper flared. “What, you think we all look alike?” Listening to Q-ter’s hissed scoldings, she turned on her heel and headed for the driver’s seat. “Fucking lifers,” she muttered. Shani grabbed the back of the seat and hopped into the cab.

“You know he’s probably taking your license plate to complain,” Q-ter spoke in her ear.

Shani frowned as she started the engine and pulled out of the alley. “Screw that asshole.” She wove the van through the city streets, ignoring a thrashing Royce. He could move on occasion, but not in any coordinated way.

“Ahhh…waaaa…goooohh…baaaaa…”

She pressed a button on the dash to change out the license plate display and flipped a switch to activate interference that would block Royce’s mental connection to Synadate. When Royce grabbed at her arm, she slapped his hands away with sharp blows.

Frank had been trying for months to find a Synadate stein out in public to liberate. With all the information Q-ter could download from Royce’s brain, the ZU team might be able to track down more love-bots, maybe someday attack Synadate’s whole operation.

Shani cursed that it had to be this particular model. Mr. Don Juan sure as hell wouldn’t be any help on the way back to headquarters. Heck, he’d probably try to run for it every time she turned her back.

When Royce started whining again, she thought about doping him with another round of drugs. But the ZU was running low on drugs. Instead Shani wove her fist into his hair and lifted his head to look in his rolling eyes. “Don’t make me hog-tie you, boy.”

Chapter Two

Royce woke up with his body jostling. A white-cloth ceiling hovered a few feet above his head. He blinked and waited for direction, but his mind was blank. Confused, he searched his circuitry for a backup program. Finding none, he attempted to link to the mainframe at Synadate HQ. Nothing. No reply.

“Rise and shine, Romeo!”

He swiveled his head in the direction of the voice, and then realized the weird angle of his legs. His ankles were wedged between the seat and door of a van. The crazy stein from the club was driving him lord knows where. “What in the hell?” He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated harder on reaching headquarters, but to no avail. “Take me back.” He pushed off his elbows and pried his legs out. Pins and needles shot down his calves, setting his feet on white, electrical fire.

“Not a chance, lover boy.” The female lifted her chin to peer over the steering wheel. “Where the heck is the turn-off?”

Royce gritted his teeth. Worrying over possible nerve damage in his legs, he looked out the window. They sped along a dark, two-lane highway. Trees overhung the street on either side. Despite the yellow divider in the middle, the female stein kept to the center. “I fucking hate the country.”

Barely registering her words, Royce scanned each section of his body, waiting for the pain to kick in. He knew the drill—if they couldn’t locate him for more than three hours, a series of cuffs would activate on his nerve roots, causing a range of unpleasant symptoms he didn’t want to contemplate.

A twinge of discomfort plucked at his lower back, but otherwise, he still seemed fine. “I doubt we’ve managed to get anywhere rural, baby.” Royce calmed the jumping thrum of his pulse—they couldn’t have gotten far. And any moment, sirens would blare and Synadate would find them and take him home.

She graced him with a sneer before scanning the road ahead. “I’m no one’s baby. Least of all yours.”

“Whatever.” Royce let her stew about the pet name. He looked in the rearview mirror, searching for headlights. “Where are we?”

She neither answered nor looked his way, instead fiddled with an ancient-looking GPS device on the dashboard.

“Y’know, I’m sorry.” Royce tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a wince. “The downtime must have erased part of my short-term memory. Remind me of your name?”

“Shani. Shani Brown.” The way she said it—quick and with her forehead creased in reluctance—dared him to ask for more details.

Royce didn’t know if it was programming or just some part of his genetics they hadn’t been able to erase, but he could never ignore a dare. “Shani. Nice name, is that short for anything?”

She bit her lip. On some women that move was seductive, but on her it looked like a baring of teeth. “It’s short for Shaniqua.”

Royce straightened his clothes. He kept talking—too nervous to stop. “Was that your lifer name or did your makers give it to you?”

She swerved and hit the brakes. The move made his full bladder scream. “Shit, I just missed it.” Shani reached for the stick.

He put a hand on top of hers. “I gotta pee. Can I jump out a sec?” Royce let the corner of his mouth tilt up in a charming smile. He lowered his eyelids for a sexy, sleepy expression he knew women loved.

Shani smiled back. Then she put her hand on top of his, grasped his forefinger, and yanked it back until it reached his wrist.

“Aaahhh, you fu…bbiibibi…” He cradled his hand into his chest, wishing her a thousand deaths with his eyes.

“Aw, not such a gentleman all of a sudden?” She threw the van into reverse, then swung a three-point turn until they went back the direction they came. “Don’t even think of playing me.” She hummed under her breath, seemingly happy to have nearly ripped his finger off.

They turned a corner into a campground. A loop of road led to small, bare patches of dirt. Most were filled with cars or tents. A couple held small trailers or camper vans. Shani pulled into an empty space. “You aren’t going anywhere without me.”

Royce’s pulse beat in his temple—of course, he had to be kidnapped by the only woman on the planet immune to his charms. He knew he could get in control of this at some point, but for now his finger hurt and he had to pee. Without a program streaming through his mind, he did not have the energy to be nice. “Fine.” He reached for the door handle. It was locked.

“Child locks.” Shani clicked a button.

Making a noise that sounded like “Tchah!” he climbed out of the van. Royce waited for her to tell him where to go. It might have hurt his pride, if he hadn’t been powerless a thousand times over. “Bathroom?”

“Oh yeah.” She sounded uncomfortable, and Royce was glad. “Yeah, me too.” She surveyed the campground. “Over there.”

He thought about running, but she came around to his side of the van too fast. In a last-ditch effort, Royce tried to link to his makers in his mind again. He failed. “What have you done to me?” He wasn’t programmed to do violence—neither to humans or steins, but his fists clenched as if he wanted to punch something. “Why am I off my network?”

Shani wrapped a hand around his upper arm. In the dark she seemed softer, more like the woman with frightened eyes at the club. “I didn’t dig out your chips, if that’s what you’re asking.” She urged him forward.

“You know I won’t work for long detached from headquarters.” His voice sounded nervous to his ears, its pitch rising. Normally, smooth and low was the only way he could speak. His breath caught in his chest and little white dots flashed in his sight.

Only when he felt Shani’s warm, dry hand close over his other biceps did Royce’s heartbeat plateau to a steadier drum.

“You’re okay.” She held him upright when he might have stumbled. “I’ve been blocking your network connection for hours. If you were going to die from it…”

His anger spiked along with his panic. “Oh, well thanks! I’m glad I didn’t happen to die!” Royce stepped past her, heading in the direction of a squat, rectangular building lit from within. Signs on the walls indicated restrooms.
They’ll find me soon
, he told himself.
No need to worry.
“
You wanted me badly enough to risk killing me?” He picked up the pace, remembering what Brenda had told him about how people and competing companies might want to steal him. A licensed, high-functioning love-bot cost more than a private jet.

“I don’t want you for anything, asshat.” Shani sped up so that they practically raced for the bathroom. “I set you free.”

He would have rounded on her if he didn’t have to pee so badly. “There was nothing to set me free from!” Royce ducked into the open door marked with a male symbol. He wasn’t surprised when Shani followed, though he was glad she stopped near the entrance.

The bathroom lights glared down, buzzing softly against the silence of the forest. Royce considered retreating into a stall, but thought better of it. He wasn’t going to hide what his maker gave him to make her more comfortable. “You may want to turn around.” He noticed his voice had fallen back to its normal, lower pitch as he stepped up to the urinal. For a second, Royce thought he saw a snippet of data in the corner of his mind. When he blinked, though, he realized it must have been the tiny red light on the flush mechanism.

Blinking back his annoyance, Royce unfastened the front of his leather jeans and worked his hand inside to free his dick from the snug pants. He hadn’t worn boxer briefs, not wanting an underwear line showing. His skin inside was damp with sweat. A fold of skin caught, and he rolled his pants lower on his hips to get comfortable.

He willed himself to relax, reminded himself that the cuffs hadn’t been activated yet, and perhaps wouldn’t be. Maybe, he thought desperately, whatever she was doing to block his signal would inactivate the nerve entrapments too. He groaned aloud in relief as his flow started. When Royce was done, he smooshed himself back into the leather and zipped up. “What I was saying, is that you’re not ‘freeing’ me from…” The words dried up in his throat.

Shani’s eyes were wide, and she held a hand in front of her mouth. He could tell she was biting her lips, or licking them. Shaking her head like a dog clearing water from its ears, Shani rushed forward and grabbed his upper arm before dragging him into the night.

Shaniqua! You stop thinking about that boy’s butt right this second!
Shani didn’t know where that voice in her head came from, since she’d never had a mother in her undead life. But yeah, that voice in her head, her “superego” Frank called it, always called her by her full name.

So as she led Royce around the outside of the building, Shani focused on the quiet ticks of birds, the rustle of leaves, anything to take her mind of those little dimples that had shown right below his hipbones, or his deep and intriguing groan. As they walked, Shani calculated their distance from the van. Q-ter’s transmitter would only block Royce’s signal within one city block. The bathrooms weren’t all that far away, but Shani wasn’t accustomed to greenery and open space. Without urban landmarks, she didn’t trust her sense of distance.

His biceps flexed under her grip—not pulling away, but maybe trying to warn her he could. Shani’d touched Royce more in the past few hours than she’d touched any man since her captivity. She wanted to think it was because the assignment demanded she lead him about—gripping his firm upper arm—in case he tried to escape, but that voice in her head knew better.

Shaniqua! Let go of the boy-toy!
In the dark, his skin felt warm and hard in her hand. It was a relief when she blinked in the bright halogen lights of the ladies’ room. No matter how pretty or tempting Royce Harden might be, Shani would never be able to stomach having sex again. And
almost
but not
doing
would be worse than never having tried at all.

Royce followed her through the door. She noticed that his terrified expression from earlier had eased into something calmer. The swaggery guy from the club still wasn’t back, thank God, but she saw his shadow—or maybe the small man behind the curtain. Shani felt guilty for even thinking about him in a sexual way. She was supposed to be saving him from a life of sexual slavery, not thinking about tying him up and licking his abs.

“Keep your feet where I can see them!” She closed the door of the bathroom stall. It was a mishmash of colors—pale blue with flecks of white, orange and yellow—some kind of recycled plastic. Bad as she wanted to pee, Shani struggled to let her bladder relax. She wedged her foot up against the door. “So. How long you been in operation?”

“Three years in March.”

Shani hurried to read the product guide on the cover of the toilet paper dispenser. Her body relaxed, the room filling with the sound of tinkling water. When Royce stopped talking too soon, Shani rushed in with a
tell me more
. It was a journalism trick she’d learned from Kuri—keep ’em talking long enough to fill a sound bite. Or in this case, a pee. Royce chatted like a good boy, babbling nervously until she’d done her business.

She pulled up her track pants and pushed out of the stall. Shani avoided Royce’s eyes and went to the sink, washing her hands roughly with the harsh pink soap. “Okay.” She spun around to find herself face-to-face with a wall of devastatingly handsome male. He wasn’t big. No, Royce was lean like a greyhound and twice as graceful. Shani wondered why she had thought watching him have sex would have been so horrible. She bet he looked gorgeous bucking into…

“So what’s next?” He kept his eyes downcast and fidgeted as if he couldn’t tell whether to be angry or pliant.

“There’s food in the van.” She blinked back her evil thoughts. “We should eat.” This time she didn’t grab his arm.

“Um. Do you eat… I mean, do you have the same diet as…?”

“I’ve got brains, if that’s what you mean. Some liver, kidney—sheep if I recall correctly.” Shani walked through the campground back to the van.

Behind her, his breathing picked up. All thoughts of his body and face forgotten, Shani thumbed the stun gun in her pocket. Any second Royce might wise up to the notion he could attack her. Hurt her. Even with her upgrades and training, Shani might not be able to fight him off. “Easy, boy. I’m not gonna make you work for it.” Reaching the van, Shani unlocked the back doors and opened them wide to the small living space inside.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

She spun around, ready to smack him in frustration for such nonsense. But Royce’s face pinched as if he was disgusted by what had just come out of his mouth. He ran both hands through his hair. “Geez. I didn’t even mean to say that.”

Shani shrugged. She wanted to say something…nice. “Yeah.” She stepped up into the van and held out a hand to Royce. “If you’re used to running certain programs, it can be hard to stop.”

He can get up in the van all on his own, Shaniqua!
her mother-self said in her head. Her mother-self was annoying.

Royce climbed in after her, surging too quickly into the cramped space. The camper included a tiny stove and cabinets near the door, a two-seated dinette in the center, and a full-sized bed beyond. Shani thought about scooting through the benches in the middle to escape him, but if they were going to eat, she needed to stay near the burners.

“Uh, lemme just…get…” He maneuvered past her, keeping as much space as possible between them, and slid onto the bench. His movements were off—a little jerky, where before they’d been smooth like melting butter. And his eyes were narrowed, darting. His expression bordered once again on panic.