Daemon

twisting her arm around her back. He brandished handcuffs seemingly out of thin air. She quickly tried to clear his legs out from under him, but he blocked her legs. Their shins slammed together, and he bore down on her to fling her to the floor. He felt her strong, lean body resisting, and then finally throwing him over her. He landed hard on the carpeted floor.
    Struggling for breath, he managed to hiss out, ‘We’ve got to be more quiet—’
    She let out a tigress growl, kicked the handcuffs away, and landed a few vicious punches to his abdomen. His tightened stomach muscles dampened the blows.
    She smiled playfully and lightly bit his ear. ‘You goddamned pig.’ She grabbed him in a headlock and started a chokehold.
    Perfume mixed with sweat filled his nostrils. Adrenaline filled his veins. If this wasn’t love, then it was something nearly as good. He felt his consciousness begin to fade. He smacked his open hands against her ears, and she dropped the choke-hold in an instant, grabbing her head in pain.
    He rolled over, kneeling next to her. ‘Baby, did I hurt you?’
    She looked up, one eye and half a mischievous smile visible behind a curtain of auburn hair. He saw his mistake too late, and her open hand shot like a jackhammer into his solar plexus. He doubled over in pain as she leaped over him, moving for the handcuffs.
    She had a thing for cops – and he was probably one of several she had flings with around the country. He didn’t care. She was a sexual hand grenade with the pin pulled out, but he could never manage to resist her. Whatever this said about him didn’t matter. Cheryl was here, and the whole world could go screw itself.
    He heard the clinking of the handcuffs coming up behindhim, and he swept one hand back, grabbing her elbow. He shot the other arm up and grabbed her beautiful hair. It was a cheap shot, but effective. He made sure to grab enough of her hair to use as a rope. He twisted it tighter and finally yanked her head down toward his. He felt her struggling, and her open, pouting lips brushed against his.
    He twisted her arm and pulled her around in front of him. Now she was really struggling, but he used all his prodigious strength to dominate her. All her skill had not been enough. He had mastered her. He heard her moan softly as he wrenched the handcuffs from her hand. In a moment he had forced her to her knees and slapped the cuffs over one wrist. She struggled mightily one last time, but he forced her head back down using her hair as a leash. The cuffs went over the second wrist, and he felt her sigh and settle back onto her knees.
    He came up behind her and smelled her perfumed hair. Her lips brushed against his cheek.
    ‘Is there a problem, officer?’
    Across Wilshire Boulevard, directly opposite the building, a camera lens in a darkened room reflected the streetlights. The camera clicked and whirred as Sebeck and the woman passionately kissed.
    Anji Anderson raised her eye from the camera lens. She let an aroused breath escape as though she had been holding it for a while. She had no idea why The Voice felt this was news, but it had already been worth the trip.

Chapter 18:// Abyss
    Wrecked county and federal police vehicles came under the glare of a mercury vapor searchlight. The bomb disposal robot’s arm panned to reveal more carnage. A thousand feet away, a spectator in the control trailer whistled softly at the video image. A murmur went through the assembled agents. Special Agent Ellis Garvey released his hold on the joystick and awaited instructions.
    The FBI’s Critical Incidence Response Group (or CIRG) had taken over operations for the siege of Sobol’s estate, but Steven Trear still had nominal control of strategy. He knew that he had to get this situation under control quickly, or it would be taken from him just as he had taken it from Decker.
    Trear put a hand on Garvey’s shoulder. ‘Bring us up to the mansion’s front door.’
    The lawn mower–sized robot turned in place on rubberized treads and started moving across a blood-streaked debris field of plastic car bumpers and shattered glass, toward the mansion’s front steps. Along the way the robot passed a crushed and twisted version of itself. It was the robot brought in by Guerner’s team the day before. Garvey’s camera lingered on the image. Ominously symbolic. Trear cleared his throat, and Garvey nudged the joystick again, sending the robot forward.
    He halted the robot at the base of