Page 12 of Perfection

Several minutes and multiple security checks later, they exited into the upper garage level. “Black. First one on the right,” he said.

When they reached the air-car, she eyed the replica of an antique 2020 Lambo and gave a soft whistle that surprised him. “Nice ride. I hope my stuff will fit.”

“No prob. It maylooklike a hundred-plus-year-old sports car, but it’s state of the art.” He issued a command on approach that activated the voice recognition sensor. “Unlock.”

The scissor-action doors opened. After he watched her fold her long, shapely limbs into the passenger side, he moved to the trunk at the rear.

What was he, paid labor? She hadn’t given him a second thought or even attempted to supervise the loading of Seville’s equipment. He sighed and punched figures into a keypad on the inside of the trunk. The interior shifted, increasing the space, expanding to accommodate her things and the dolly.

When he slid into the cockpit, he noticed her palming the genuine leather seat he’d purchased out of Argentina as if she’d never felt anything so soft and luxurious—an extravagance he’d saved nearly half a year’s salary for.

“Not bad,” she said, arching a brow.

He unleashed a grudging grin. “I like the real thing.”

“Which means ditch everything genetically engineered?”

He raised a brow. She was exaggerating, of course. There’d be no way to get rid of gene alteration. “Not everything, but most things. I’m practical.”

She shook her head, sending loose strands of blond hair rippling over her shoulders. “I doubt that. I’d guess you were eccentric.”

He suppressed a laugh. Eccentric? He’d always considered himself conventional—solid and straightforward. She, on the other hand, exuded sophistication, confidence, fine breeding, and a cool aloofness he didn’t understand. And he had the crazy urge to knock her back on her heels.

“Why’s that?”

“You’re a law enforcement officer, yet you don’t obey the rules. You shouldn’t have entered the council room. You’re meticulously neat, down to your fingernails and polished shoes, yet you have a devil-may-care attitude. You like flashy toys, and at the same time, you’re an environmentalist, utilizing outdated things instead of adding to space trash.” With the last comment, she tapped her ear, indicating she’d noticed his old QuL.

Damn. The new comm the captain had given him was still in his pocket. And shit, she was observant. No surprise there. Not really. She was designed to be smart.

“You’ve only scratched the surface, sweetheart. Hold on.” He engaged the car and took off, slipping into traffic with expert timing, just inches from the surrounding vehicles.

She clutched the door handle and braced her other hand on the dash. Nudging the throttle, he gunned it, taking secret enjoyment in her discomfort.

Her chin lifted a notch, flawless nostrils flaring on her beautifully symmetrical face. Perfection. It must be one hell of a burden to have to live up to all the genetic hype.

Minutes later, stuck in midafternoon traffic, they circled above Lake Michigan. Her anxiety seemed to climb with each transporter that shot by them. From the corner of his eye, he caught her flinch. She squirmed in her seat, tight as a spring. But he was ready to let go. The two hours spent inside the genetics building was more than enough plastic time with perfect people.

“Will we get there before tomorrow?” she asked.

“Ah,” he said, “it appears B Generation missed out on the patience quota.”

Her eyes widened.

“Besides, we’re in rush hour,” he added.

It was more than a lack of patience, he realized. It was fear, though she hid it behind a belligerent attitude. But he wasn’t about to say that.

“Knock off the gene-i-bust comments. We’re different. Okay. No big deal.” She faced the window. “Let’s just concentrate on the girl.”

“Yes, ma’am.” York hid a grin. Where was her sense of humor? He enjoyed watching her flash and burn, like when a candle flares brightly with a quick burst of air. Her face glowed, flushed.

If she truly believed their eugenic distinctions inconsequential, well, she was wrong.

With a sharp turn of the wheel, he departed the Loop, going rogue, then flew down over the old cryogenics lab and raced for the short, cylindrical building set among skyscrapers.

She glared at him. “God, you’re impossible. Is everything you do so extreme?”

Apparently, his driving didn’t impress her. “You bet.”