Chapter 9: Détente – part 3
A repetitive buzz nudged Teague from slumber. Alarm clock, he realized, but was too sleepy and sated to do anything about it. Then the device silenced.
The sudden quiet woke Teague some more. He stretched, and sore muscles reminded him why he was so damned tired: Addison. Purring, he reached physically and mentally for his lover. His hand found cold sheets. His mind found Addison on the other side of the room.
Teague sat up, blinking the last of sleep away. Addison, wrapped in his bathrobe, sat on the edge of the bed brushing her hair. After a quick glance at the clock he grinned salaciously. “Come back to bed. There’s enough time for another go.”
Addison stood and moved to the dresser. “I need access to some personnel files,” she stated, returning the hairbrush to its usual spot.
Teague scrubbed his face and suppressed a sigh. He didn’t mind her Ice Queen act in public. In the bedroom was another matter. “You’re not asking, Dr. Harris.”
Addison gave him a frosty smile. I’m not. And Dr. Gibson doesn’t need to know about it.
Teague frowned. Gibson had his fingers in everything. Was it worth sneaking around his boss to appease his less than appreciative lover? Hedging, he asked, What do you need?
The files of everyone who’s worked for Dr. Myers in the past five years. Addison watched his face for a reaction, which Teague kept hidden. She moved to his side of the bed and sat down. And those of everyone who’s worked with those people in the past three years.
Right, Teague replied as his shielded thoughts whirled. Why did she need so much information regarding the father of her son? He’d yet to figure out why she was so hung up on the man. To the best of Teague’s knowledge they rarely saw each other except for matters involving their child. Perhaps Myers had done something to her. That notion, and the fact that Addison was a fellow Homo superior, tipped the scales in her favor. He’d keep an eye on the people whose files he’d pull to make sure Addison didn’t try anything foolish. I’ll let you know when I have them, he replied. Give me a few days.
Nodding, Addison got to her feet. Good.
Teague tugged at the bathrobe telekinetically. I’ve got an hour before my shift starts.
I don’t. She disappeared in a flash of light.
That couldn’t have gone better, Addison mused as she slipped into her own bed. As much as she respected Teague–the man was a great shag and had the balls to stand up to her–distance was crucial. She’d learned that the hard way with Myers.
Teague contacted her each day telepathically to update her. Addison didn’t mind the slow progress. It was necessary to stay under Daniel’s radar. Although Teague didn’t hide his curiosity, he didn’t ask what she’d use the information for or try to breach her shields.
On the evening of the covert mission’s fourth day, Addison frowned at the computer monitor in her office. A new set of Eridani imagery had arrived, and she was tempted to work late to review it.
Addison, Teague said, his mental voice laced with satisfaction. I’ve got it. Is now a good time?
Addison smiled genuinely. Yes. A moment later Teague appeared on the other side of her desk. Her smile grew wider, and not only because of the memory chip in his hand. The Scot filled out his uniform well. She stood and walked up to him, accepting the proffered chip. Thank you.
Teague grinned, his hand lingering on hers. My pleasure, if only to learn the breadth of Gibson’s safeguards. Impressive.
“Mmm,” Addison agreed, sending a pulse of ardor. I’ll come see you later.
Looking forward to it. After raking his eyes over her, Teague teleported away.
After toying with the idea of “later” being “now,” Addison returned to her desk. The secrets contained in the data chip were too tempting.
While her computer decrypted the files, Addison recalled the face Ashlynn had shown her. The presumed thief was a smooth-faced Asian man. Gender and ethnicity would narrow the possibilities. Addison hoped it would be enough, for Jake’s sake.
After an hour of paging through employee photos Addison was no closer to identifying the man who’d stolen Myers’ crystal. One more, she thought, and brought up a familiar face: the slag Myers had been screwing. Joon Ri, according to the file. She hadn’t made the connection when Myers had mentioned her name the other day. Jealousy soured Addison’s already bad mood. Did he go back to her once he was done screwing me? What did he do to her to piss her off that badly?
Bitterly curious, Addison read the woman’s file. Ri had been Myers’ head assistant until she’d attacked the wanker. No details were given on the attack or her transfer.
The final page of the file brought Addison up short. It was a six month old photograph of the woman, ordered on account of cosmetic changes.
Addison traced Ri’s features on the monitor with trembling fingers. If not for the woman’s Asian eyes and round face, she could have been looking in a mirror. Did she do this to herself? Did Myers? In either case it boiled down to the same thing: Myers wanted her. He wanted her badly enough to create his own copy. Or maybe all he wanted was her body.
Either way, the potential leverage was spectacular.