You don’t give a shit, and we both prefer it that way,” she said crisply. “Kev McCloud was the cornerstone of Dr. O’s research. X-Cog wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for McCloud. So Dr. O was always looking for test results similar to his, and mine. And Edie Parrish had them. That’s all.”
Des let out a dubious grunt. “Kev McCloud managed to escape and practically fuck the whole project. Looks like that perfect interface had some pretty big fucking holes in it. And his twin, Sean, forced Dr. O to slit his own throat, remember? That should give you pause, Av.”
Pause, hah. It had given her sleepless nights for years. Wondering frantically how Sean McCloud had managed it. When she could not.
How? How the fuck had he done that? All those years of being Dr. O’s slave-crowned dollbaby. Used like a puppet, all the while dreaming of hammers crushing, knives gouging, axe blades hacking. Gouts of black arterial blood. Her hands began to shake, just thinking about it.
She locked the feelings down automatically, so that she could function. “The McClouds are freaks. Edie will be different. She’s female, artistic, creative. Shy, introverted personality. Probably emotionally crushed by her father, which is fine for our purposes. She’ll be a good little girl. She won’t slit my throat.”
Des’s blue eyes narrowed. “What is this? First you want to kill her. Then you want to crown her.”
“Crown first, kill later,” she said airily. “Waste not, want not.”
Des shot a speaking glance at Mandy, who was rocking on the ground, sucking on her thumb. “You don’t call that a waste?”
Ava’s teeth ground. “No. I call that a calculated risk. So what are we going to do about Parrish?”
Des looked irritated. “Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t know.”
Ava sighed. Des was so fucking slow sometimes. “Des. Honey. Brainstorm with me. He’s about to retire, right? Dangerous age for a man. Health problems, chronic pain? Grief, solitude? And he was bereaved last year, too. Poor Linda. He must be fragile. Depressed. And his daughter, with her mental problems? Oh, dear. So sad. Plus, he disinherited her. She must be so angry with him. She must feel betrayed. Maybe even…” Her voice sank to a whisper. “Murderous?”
Des’s face took on an expression of dawning discovery. “She might. Wouldn’t surprise anyone. He’s such a self-righteous, pompous tight ass. I’m surprised someone hasn’t beaten her to it.”
“So sad,” Ava said solemnly. “All those years of staunch service to the company, the community…and it has to end like this, at the hand of his own flesh and blood. It’s Shakespearean in scope.”
“But there’s Ronnie to consider, if you’re talking about the money,” Des said. “Ronnie would inherit the—”
“Edie must be so jealous of her little sister,” Ava cut in dreamily. “Daddo’s little favorite, right? I bet Edie lies awake nights contemplating how that complacent, self-satisfied little piece of shit deserves to die. So she offs the sister—and then kills herself. It’s awful. It’s epic.”
Des chuckled. “I love the way your mind works,” he said, with frank admiration. “Your twisted genius knows no bounds.”
“No bounds except for your pussy squeamishness, that is.” Ava kicked the girl curled on the floor in the back of her thigh. “Get rid of this trash for me. I’m sick of looking at her.”
Des’s smile vanished. “I don’t do wet work, Av,” he growled. “Even though I know it would turn you on.”
“So get us more money. That would turn me on, too. Think outside the box. Isn’t that what Dr. O trained us for?” She licked her glossy red lips, a move calculated to make him hard, and strolled to the chaise. “Break the chains that bind your brains, hmm? Like Dr. O said. Think about it. Complete control of the Parrish Foundation. Parrish’s personal fortune, too. All his billions, invested in X-Cog, giving us a thousand percent return. Wouldn’t that be just…perfect?”
His smile showed off his perfect teeth. Desmond Marr, future president of Helix. Harvard man. Pampered prince. Her personal slave.
Des had been one of Dr. O’s pets, too, but the Haven had been a very different place for the son of Raymond Marr, cofounder of Helix. Des had been a rich pet, a Persian cat with a diamond collar. Desmond had never experienced a slave crown interface in his life.
Ava had been in the other category of pets. The parentless, penniless, alley cat kind. Ava had worked for her keep, like the rest of the runaways, prostitutes, junkies, and punks. The ones Dr. O could fuck with and get measurable results. Helix was built upon their backs.
Or their bones, rather. They were all dead. All but her. And maybe Kev McCloud. Somewhere, out there.
Des had been her lover for years, ever since they’d met as teenagers at Dr. O’s oasis of depravity, the Haven. The spark was immediate. They had so much in common. But certain things Dessie could never understand. If you’d never been a slave, how could you truly know what it meant to dominate? A privileged boy with billions behind him could never get that. It was a gulf between them. Sad.
But look at her now. She hadn’t croaked from brain bleed like the rest of the lab rats. She was special, and Dr. O had realized it. From slave crowned zombie whore, she’d become Dr. O’s crowning achievement. She’d undergone the most intense and rigorous of Dr. O’s cognitive enhancement techniques. He’d trained her in X-Cog master-crowning technique. He’d arranged for her advanced studies, multiple degrees in neuroscience and bioengineering. With Dr. O’s mentoring, she’d developed nearly as many products for Helix’s bioscience and nanotechnology branch as Dr. O himself, over the years. He’d used her hard, but he had groomed her into something extraordinary.
Sometimes, she even missed that depraved, sadistic psychopathic prick. It was nice, to have someone be proud of you. To own you.
Even when it broke your bones, and hacked off your limbs and sucked your blood. Crushed you to dust. Burned you to fucking ashes.
Des caressed his erection, staring at her taut, curvy body, her nipples. He cast an uncertain glance at the girl moaning on the floor.
“Ignore her,” Ava commanded. “I’ll give her an injection after, and put her in the fridge, since you can’t soil your lily-white hands.”
His face reddened. Scolding him sharpened his lust, but going too far made the situation unmanageable. He was large, physically strong, extremely quick, and had a cruel streak that ran very deep and wide.
“No more cracks about the wet work,” he growled.
“Oh, Dessie.” Her voice was throaty. “I love it when you’re stern.”
“Do you? Turn around. I’ll show you stern.”
She hesitated, feeling the heavy pulse in the air. The timing had to be right. She turned, with deliberate slowness, positioning herself on the chaise. Her micro-mini barely shadowed the parts she kept shaved, perfumed, and pantiless. Ready for immediate use on demand. Old training died hard. She swayed, watching herself reflected in the shiny silver file cabinets opposite. Black hair swinging, red lips parted. She looked good, she concluded, pleased. Dangerous, unstable. Red hot.
Des undid his belt as he approached,
