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to hear what they were saying, but there was only the soft hum of machinery as the engine ticked over. She craned her neck to try to see them, to see if their body language gave anything away, or to see the guard’s face. All she could view out of the narrow length of the windows were Paul’s straight back and a slice of the guard’s black armour.
    Paul seemed calm, but he was senior security. He was trained to exude calm, until he killed you. A few seconds later, and he climbed back into the vehicle. The guard strode away, the fierce white beams from the headlights cutting over his long figure. He disappeared into his booth.
    “You’re cleared for entry, Mr. Cross.” The guard’s voice broke the silence and Paul pushed power into the engine. The vehicle surged up and to the left, throwing Vyn back into the padded leather.
    “Did you threaten to kill him?”
    “I never threaten.”
    And there was another non-answer. For someone who claimed honesty, he was very good at not revealing the truth. Vyn’s natural suspicion kicked in. It had only been a matter of seconds in conversation with the guard. What had he said? Had he admitted that she was in the vehicle, disguised, hidden by the film?
    “Your brother was replaced seven years ago. Why now?” Her stomach dropped and she grabbed at the stitched edge of her seat. She stopped herself from commenting on his driving skills. “What do you want from me?”
    “I want you to get him out.”
    She stared at the back of Paul’s head. Out? Out of where? There was a reason the replaced didn’t come back. Liam was a shadow. His bodiless personality caught, free-form in the virtual world. Or he was just dead. “So you’re hiring me as a contractor?”
    He dropped low over a wide tree-lined street that wound around the hill. The sound of the engine softened and the heavy clunk of the landing wheels followed. They slowed and Vyn jerked forward as the wheels touched the wet tarmac.
    “I saved your life and you want to be paid?”
    “I’m assuming you want use of my skills. You pay a professional, don’t you?”
    “Save this discussion for when we arrive.”
    “Where?”
    “As I said. My place.” He drove farther up the street, white lamplight casting a bright shine over the ornate glass-and-brick fronts of large houses. Stone paths curved over manicured lawns. Silhouettes moved in the vast windows, casually and with an ease that suggested they had no fear of attack.
    A wry smile pulled at Vyn’s mouth. Even when she’d lived on such a street, she’d never known that lack of fear. Just something else to mark her as different.
    Paul pulled into the sloping drive of a darkened mansion. The automatic doors opened and the garage swallowed the vehicle. The clunk behind them moved Vyn’s hands. She unclipped the harness and rolled her neck. None of her current situation made sense, and the sour feeling that it couldn’t end well filled her stomach. Whatever Paul Cross wanted from her—and even if it stretched to the bizarre story of wanting to free his brother—he could never let her live.
    He climbed out of the vehicle, easing the seat forward and waiting for her to get out. Light from the ceiling set his perfect features into stark shadow. And there was the twist her simulacrum had brought. She knew what he tasted like, how he kissed, the hard press of his body. She shouldn’t be conflicted over the man who in all likelihood was going to end her life.

    Vyn followed him through a series of doors and softly lit corridors. The fresh scent of grass, of polish and clean carpeting wound around her, though the biting stink of her clothes burned her nostrils. Paul had the same reaction.
    “You bathe first. Then we talk.”
    Bathe. It was a completely decadent word. One she hadn’t used in years. She showered, she scrubbed, on some occasions she decontaminated. She never bathed. “I can do that.”
    He led her up a narrow flight of wooden stairs, which opened out into a