Page 91 of The Mech Who Loved Me
Jack's green eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "The mech-suit? Or the brewing war between blue bloods andhumans?"
"You know what I'm talkingabout."
Jack sighed. "My sister's married to a blue blood, and while he can be a little stiff at times, he's a good man. Then there'sDebney."
Jack'sfriendshipwith the viscount had not gone unnoticed. Kincaid said nothing, but he'd seen the pair of them slip away at Byrnes's wedding. In the past, men like that would have been executed, but it wasn't his place to say anything. Nor his place tojudge.
"I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a storm," Kincaid admitted quietly. "I have friends. Humanist friends. I see their anger over the blood taxes and the draining factories still loom large in the East End. But I also understand it's not an easysolution.
"And we don't know who's working to stir up the general population—whether it's on Ulbricht's side, or thedhampir, or someone working behind the scenes—but a part of me is tired of war," he said. "I don't want to see any more humanists die. I don't want to see any of my blue blood friends die. But we're heading toward a collision. Any fucking fool canseethat."
Jack sighed, rolling a coin over the back of his gloved hands—a habit he had sometimes. "All London needs is a spark, and it will go up in a fiery blaze, you mark mywords."
Fuck. Kincaid rested his hip on the edge of a stool. Maybe he'd overtaxed his body recently, but he felt dull and weak today. Exhausted. "But what's the spark going to be? We can stamp out all the fires we see—these Black Vein murders, the vaccine clinics being sabotaged—but I just feel like there's something else out there. Something we're not seeing. I mean, one by one these Black Vein murders aren't going to tip this war over the edge. The humanists don't care about blue bloods dying, and the Echelon doesn't give a damn about rogue blue bloods. If it were one of their own,however...."
"I agree," Jack said, shrugging. "But I don't think the spark's going to come from the Echelon. This all feels like it's a stalking horse. Something to set the Echelon on edge, but they don't have the advantage anymore. Some of them still stockpile automaton troops, but if they step out of line? The queen and the Council of Dukes will use the Cyclops they confiscated during the revolution against them. It would require a mass effort from most of the Echelon aristocrats working together to start a war, and they'd have to topple the queen or the Councilfirst."
It all made little sense. These riots were stirring, yes, but some people still liked the queen. She wasn't her husband, mad and dangerous. She was human, and she'd been their figurehead during the revolution. Disappointment reigned at the moment, thanks to the recent lowering of the Blood Tax bill, but it hadn't destroyed the people's confidenceinher.
"To whip the humanists into a frenzy, they'd have to strike at something the humans consider important. Hell if I know what that will be." Kincaid pulled on his protective gear, then reached for the carbon arc welder and his carbon rods. "Guess we'll just have to be prepared foranything."
Jack turned away. "Have a think about what I said earlier. It’s just conjecture at this point, but I think you have a marketableproduct."
Kincaid clipped each claw onto the positive and negative wires, and then dragged his face mask down. "Willdo."
Twenty-One
"ARE YOU AVOIDING me?"Ava's voice broke through Kincaid's solitude as he stared at the nearly finishedmech-suit.
"Of course not." His words were brusque; he heard ithimself.
"After last night, I thought youmighthave...."
"Might have?" ...slipped into her bed, and woken her. He'd thoughtaboutit.
But Gemma's words kepthoundinghim.
Ava didn't reply. Blonde lashes swept down, obscuring her eyes, and his stomach dropped through his boots. "Ava." He picked up a screwdriver. "You were hurt. You needed sleep. I'm notavoidingyou."
Liar.
Guilt scoured him. He didn't want to hurt her. And while there was passion between them, there was something else growing. Hell, he couldn't deny it. Last night she'd fallen asleep in his arms, and before he'd slipped from her bed this morning, there'd been a part of him that wanted to linger. Just to relax for a few more hours with Ava curled up against him, all those messy, vibrant curls spread across his pillow. But he was fooling himself. Gemma said it herself this morning: he was no goodforher.
They just needed a little space between them. A clearly marked line that said,this is an affair, and it will end when we finish this case. Then they could go their own separate ways, and even though a part of him would always look back in regret at what he'd let slip through his fingers, it would be betterforher.
Until he looked at her and sawherface.
Shit.
Glancing around, Kincaid captured her cheeks in his hands, carefully wielding the screwdriver. "I didn't think we wanted anyone elsetoknow."
"Wedon't."
Kincaid kissed her gently on the lips, his heart softening. "Then that's all it was. Should you even be out of bed?" He could still see it, the moment he'd seen her face and realized she'd beenpoisoned.
That he couldloseher.
He wasn't coping very well with the idea, and Ava made a small sound as his grip on her facetightened.
