BONDS OF JUSTICE

“And . . . I accept the DarkMind,” Sophia said, hiding nothing of who she was, the darkness that had shaped her. “It has no need to scream, no need to fight to be known, to be remembered.” She would never shut it away, never force it to be Silent.

Just like her cop had never asked her to be anything but what she was—a flawed, scarred J. Lifting her head, she reached up and pressed a kiss over that scar on his cheek, uncaring of their audience. Thanking him. Adoring him.

“I know,” he whispered, his arms holding her tight. “I know, baby.”

It was all she needed to hear.





EPILOGUE


I’m sorry, Max. Please don’t be mad. I just can’t be here anymore.





—Handwritten note from River Shannon to Max Shannon


Sophia had never felt more content than she did at that moment, lying in the loose circle of Max’s arms as they sat in bed watching the entertainment screen. The show wasn’t important—it was background. But the warmth of Max, the scent of him, the knowledge that no one could ever steal this from her now . . . it was an almost vicious happiness.

Max rubbed his chin on her hair. “I can tell when you’re thinking.”

“Are you sure you’re not Psy?” A kiss pressed to the golden-brown skin under her cheek. He was only wearing a pair of boxers, while she’d pulled on a tank top and a pair of pajama bottoms with dancing penguins on them.

Max’s fingers massaged the back of her neck in an absent caress. “One hundred percent primitive human.”

Tapping her fist against the hardness of his bare abdomen, she reached up to press a kiss against his jaw. “I like you primitive.”

He took her mouth, stole her breath. And when he released her, he said, “I knew you wanted me for my body.”

“That and your salary.” Smiling, she tumbled him onto the sheets until she straddled him, her elbows braced on either side of his head. “Are you going to take the job Nikita offered?”

“It gives me hives to think about working for a Councilor.” He scowled, his hands shaping over her hips. Lower. “But then I think about all the secrets I could learn, all the other cops I could help with the contacts I’d make, the access I’d have.”

Sophia shivered at the way he stroked her, decided she’d have to get him in front of a mirror today. The fantasy was driving her to delirium. “I’ve already sold my soul”—that got her a grin, and she had to kiss his dimple then—“so I have little credibility, but Nikita seems to be better than some.”

“Not saying much.”

“No.” She ran one hand down over his chest, loving the fact that she could adore him at her leisure, without worry, without fear. As long as nothing leaked out into the Net, no one would come hunting—not in Nikita’s territory. “Max, do you mind that we have to continue to be careful?” Whatever change was happening, it was a slow, secret thing.

“I almost lost you to total rehabilitation,” he said, his tone somber. “Compared to that, a little discretion is nothing. And”—a Max smile—“you know it turns me on when you’re all prim and proper in public. I just want to take you home and strip you naked, teach you wicked, wicked things.” Possessive hands shaping her flesh with sensual intent.

“Oh yeah?” She began to slide her hand south. “Maybe—”

The doorbell chimed, interrupting Max’s groan of anticipation.

He scowled when she looked up. “Ignore it. It’s probably Nikita’s henchmen come to make sure I’m giving ‘due consideration’ to her offer.”

“As if you’ll make any decision but the one you want.” She pushed him. “Go answer the door. They won’t go away until you do.”

A black look on his face, Max got up and pulled on his jeans, the tattoo on his back stunning. And, Sophia thought, it wasn’t only because he’d had her name written on the blade. “I love you, Cop.”

He turned to nip at her lower lip. “Good ’cause you’ve got life with no possibility whatsoever of parole.” Then, barefoot and with sleep-tumbled hair, he walked out. She knew he’d done it on purpose—to irritate any assistants Nikita had sent.

Getting out herself, she pulled on a thick terrycloth robe and began to brush her hair. “Shall we go see who it is?” she asked Morpheus, who was snaking around her ankles.

As if he understood, he padded over, with her following.

Her hand stopped in midstroke when she saw the man in the doorway.


Max gripped the doorjamb, his knuckles going white. “How did you get past security?” It was the first question that came out, the last thing he cared about.

The blond man in the corridor clasped the wrist of one hand with the other. “I told them who I was at the desk, and they said I was on the list. So . . . I . . .” He swallowed. “Did you know? I mean, should I go? I thought—”

Reaching out, Max grabbed his younger brother in a bone-crushing embrace. “You fucking idiot. If you try to run off this time, I’m dumping your ass in jail.”