Page 50 of Codi
Carson declined to comment.
9
Denise
The miserable night I’ve had fades away. I was dozing on the couch, curled up in a self-pitying blanket burrito under Oliver’s careful eye. What a friend he is. Even with odds stacked against us, he never once tried to dissuade me. With Lucas staying at Becca’s for the night, we spent hours poring over laws and legal advice, trying to find some way to bring Codi back, and I just couldn’t read anymore.
The knock jolts me awake, and he cautiously answers the door for me. When he calls for me, I spring to my feet and nearly bang my knee on the coffee table in my rush to get to the front door.
Codi stands in the front foyer with an android woman I don’t recognize, and everything around me loses focus. I rush forward and launch myself at him. He catches me as I swing my legs around his waist, hugging him as tightly as I possibly can and feeling his powerful arms envelop me. I kiss him deeply. Despite my best efforts, I can’t seem to stop crying.
Our kiss leaves me breathless, less because I’m hot and bothered, and more because I’ve been crying like a fucking baby all night and my nose is stuffed. I can’t imagine I’m the prettiest or most graceful of women right now. It’s not like in the movies, but I couldn’t give less of a damn. Codi certainly doesn’t seem to care, returning my affection just as passionately with his hands cupping my rear and holding me upright.
“I thought I lost you.” I caress his face, tracing his features. “We went down to the precinct and they couldn’t do anything, so I thought I’d never see you again.”
“You could never lose me.” Hearing his voice in my ear sends my heart skipping in my chest. I might burst at the seams from the joy of just being held by him again. After a moment of holding me close, stealing kisses and caressing my back, he sets me down. I study the woman behind him. She hangs back from us awkwardly, like she doesn’t know what to do with herself.
Exchanging a soft glance with Codi, I step forward. “Hello. I’m Denise.”
She regards me shyly. She’s got beautiful, naturally wavy brown hair—well, as natural as synthetic hair can be—and a pretty face, a slight tan to her skin. She’s neither thin nor full-figured, shorter than me, and very pretty to boot.
And a skittish thing, always glancing over her shoulder. “Hello.”
I’m reminded of Codi, how reactive he was when Oliver first woke him up after I’d found him in that dumpster. I wonder if she’s endured similar abuse. It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest. Bionic or not, nobody deserves to exist in constant fear, worried of what might spring on them from behind.
“Don’t be frightened,” I say. “What’s your name?”
“Violet,” she replies.
I extend my hand to her. “I’m Denise.”
She hesitates, her movements slow and deliberate. Then she takes my hand. “I’m honored to meet you, miss.”
Oliver is curious about her, stepping out onto the porch. “Codi, where did you find her?”
“She came with me,” Codi says. “From the house where I was previously owned.”
Oliver appears surprised, then slightly troubled by this as he and Codi exchange a look. “That is... a risky venture. It could be viewed as theft.”
“Technicalities don’t concern me,” Codi replies, determined and dismissive of any potential consequences, stubbornly staying his course. “She was being mistreated. I was inclined to remove her from danger. We covered our tracks fairly well. Could you take her with you, for now, at least? We can discuss how best to help her at a later time.”
“How did you cover your tracks?” I ask, unable to hide just how impressed I am.
“I’m fairly resourceful.” He looks at me, teasing softly with a smile. “Given the chance.” He presses his lips to my forehead, pulling me close. “I’ll tell you everything, I promise.”
Oliver regards Codi in a way I haven’t seen before. When Codi first woke in my home, unsure of who he was or where he came from, Oliver showed sympathy and patience. Now, there’s respect, understanding, even admiration. “I will do what I can. Keep in contact with me when you’re ready.”
Oliver puts a comforting hand on Violet’s shoulder. “Hello. You needn’t be frightened. You said your name was Violet?”
“I’m not frightened,” Violet says quietly. She appears so lost, uncertain, but hopeful, with the expression of a survivor granted a second chance, whose spirit, though tested, was never broken.
She reminds me of me, armed in a shabby hotel bathroom with a pregnancy test and nothing but my own wits. Scared but never going to admit it. Not even to myself.
And she absolutely has spirit, by the way she’s arguing with Oliver softly. “Fear is not possible. I am not programmed to be frightened.”
“Your body speaks another truth,” Oliver replies. “And you’ll find your programming is becoming a guideline, not a law.”
She nods, looking at me. “You’re the reason I came. I’m pleased I get to meet you in person.”
