Obsidian Prey Read Online Free PDF Page A

let alone a man like Cruz. He was always so sure of himself, so certain that he was doing the right thing, so determined to carry out what he felt was his responsibility. As far as he was concerned, he had been doing his job three months ago. She had to remember that the situation between them had placed him, along with his rigid code of honor, in an untenable position.
    Great. She was not just feeling sorry for him, she was actually making excuses. She had to get a grip.
    Cruz closed the door before she could ask him any more questions. A few seconds later, he got in beside her and rezzed the engine. Flash-rock melted, and the Slider eased away from the curb. Cruz turned at the corner, driving deeper into the Quarter. Navigating the maze of twisting streets in the Colonial neighborhoods was not for the faint of heart or those who depended on maps. But Cruz piloted the Slider with unerring precision. She did not have to prompt him even a single time. She was not surprised. Cruz always knew exactly where he was going.
    He did not speak until he parked the Slider in front of her apartment building. For a moment he sat quietly, his hands resting on the steering wheel. The black stone in his heavy gold ring glinted a little in the green-tinged shadows.
    “Did you get the new sofa?” he asked.
    Startled, she looked at him. “What?”
    “Three months ago you were planning to buy a new sofa. I’ve been wondering if you got it.”
    “Right, the sofa. No. I didn’t get it.”
    “Why not?”
    “Turns out suing Amber Inc. is sort of an expensive hobby. I’ve had to economize lately.”
    “You had a really bad lawyer,” Cruz said grimly.
    “You’ve already mentioned that.” She unbuckled her seat belt. “Turns out really good lawyers are even more expensive than sofas. I thought we weren’t going to snipe at each other.”
    “Sorry. Just wondered about the sofa.”
    It struck her that his curiosity about the sofa was another positive indicator. Evidently he had been thinking about her a lot, and in a personal way, if he had been musing about homey things such as her plans to purchase new furniture.
    He got out from behind the wheel. She opened her own door before he could get around the front of the Slider to do it for her. At the lobby entrance of the apartment building, she took the key out of her small green clutch and rezzed the lock.
    They got into the rickety elevator and stood, a little distance between them, until the door opened on the fourth floor. Without a word they went down the hall. She opened her door, stepped into the apartment, and turned on the light switch.
    A large ball of dryer lint with bright blue eyes tumbled toward her, chortling a cheerful welcome. Its six paws skittered on the hardwood floors. A small, jaunty red beret was clipped to the tatty fur in the vicinity of the top of its head.
    Lyra scooped up the dust bunny and plopped him on her shoulder.
    “I’m home, Vincent,” she said.
    The greeting ritual satisfied, Vincent burbled happily and hopped onto Cruz’s much broader shoulder.
    “At least the bunny is glad to see me,” Cruz said. “Hey, there, pal. How’s it rezzing?”
    Vincent chortled again.
    Dust bunnies were not overly concerned with petty things like the legal ownership of spectacular amber discoveries in the jungle, Lyra thought. Nor did they fret about having fallen in love with the wrong man. But she rose above the impulse to make that observation out loud. She had to stay focused. The window bench was at the far end of the room, still in shadow, but she could make out the curves of the bra cups
    “While you two reminisce, I’ll get out of these heels,” she said.
    She hurried toward the window bench.
    The plan was simple. She would keep her body between Cruz and the bra.
    She reached her goal, grabbed the end of the towel, and rolled the bra inside with a few quick twists. Still moving fast, she darted behind the sliding screens that concealed the bedroom area and