Page 1 of Double Bind (Cosmic Mates #6)

Planet Terra Nova

Marshall entered All Fired Up to find Amity Landers straightening the pottery on the shelves with utmost precision. She’s either nervous or trying to look busy. “All ready to go?” he asked.

“Ready!” Her eager, happy smile bit into his conscience. She cares way too much already.

I’m not who you think I am. Don’t care for me. Please, don’t.

Funny, he hadn’t realized he had a conscience. What a time to find out. Why now? Why her? Feelings complicated matters, and regret changed nothing. He would do what he had to. He wouldn’t let guilt over hurting some woman jeopardize his freedom.

He’d placed himself in enough risk trying to save John Bragg’s ass. I should have been on my way to Refuge already.

“The bistro, you said?” He confirmed their date plans. He’d had her suggest a restaurant since he was “new in town.” Due to his reconnaissance, he probably knew more about Willow Wood than she did.

“Unless you’d prefer something else.”

“Nope. I defer to your better judgment.” He flashed a practiced grin.

“Ah well, my judgment could be suspect—except I can pick a good restaurant. Willow Wood only has three of them.” She giggled, her laughter light, feminine, and sweet like her voice, youthful like her appearance. Her eyes, highlighted by a skillful application of cosmetics, sparkled. She could pass for a decade younger than the forty-two he knew her to be. Medium-length brunette hair, showing not a trace of gray—unlike his—gleamed under the shop lights.

She’d intended her comment as a joke, but there’d been truth in her jest. Her judgment was questionable—if she’d been more discerning, she’d have seen through his mask of charm. He intended her no harm, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any. He hoped not, and the sooner he got what he needed, the better off she’d be.

He had to find Bragg and get them the fuck off this planet.

“Only three, really?” he replied, aware the village had three eateries, one inn, a grocer, and a handful of specialty shops, of which All Fired Up was one. Co-owner Amity managed the business, while her friend and partner, Faith Hammond, made the pottery.

“Willow Wood is tiny. I haven’t visited any other townships, but from what I understand, they’re small, too,” she explained.

The government restricted Terra Nova’s growth and development to prevent the excesses and pitfalls of the urbanity plaguing Earth. He’d done his homework on the planet, the town, and the inhabitants. The training drilled into him by Dark Ops had become second nature. Know before you go.

“Should we leave?” he asked.

“Let’s. I made reservations for 7:15, and it’s almost that. Fortunately, it’s a quick walk.”

As they exited, she shut off the lights and locked up the shop. Outside, solar streetlamps cast a candlelight glow on the cobbled lane and her attractive features. Her eyes were huge in her radiant face. He tried not to stare, but he was a man, and she was a very pretty woman.

He dropped his gaze to her feet. She wore feminine shoes, the heel low, no doubt in deference to the uneven cobblestones. He estimated her height at five five, maybe five six, not short, but compared to his six-foot-five frame, tiny, vulnerable.

He took her hand, and their fingers meshed in a perfect fit that felt entirely too intimate, given his intentions. She smiled up at him trustingly, and he smiled falsely. Her subtle, floral perfume wafted up to tease his nostrils. Despite the shield he’d erected, he found himself inhaling, wishing, dreaming what-if.

Damn you, Bragg, for putting me in this position.

He had to stay focused. Freedom was within sight. He could almost touch it.

She’d changed clothes since he’d come by the shop earlier in the afternoon to pump her for information. Replacing her workaday slacks and tunic, she’d donned a cornflower-blue dress with long sleeves and a form-fitting bodice with a scoop neckline hinting at cleavage. The full skirt brushed against her shapely legs as they strolled.

“So, the café is one restaurant.” He pointed to the coffee shop across from All Fired Up. “The bistro we’re going to is the second. What’s the third?” he asked to make conversation, already knowing the answer. What he didn’t know was where the hell Bragg had gone.

“The Rice Palace. Chinese. Terra Nova’s version anyway. Not very authentic.”

“Chinese?” He faked a laugh. “How did they choose that one?”

“I think they’re trying to avoid duplication. I hear the village to the east has an Italian place, and there’s a Mexican restaurant to the south, so…Chinese. Fortunately for us, Bea’s Bistro picks up the slack. Bea makes excellent lasagna and burritos. By the way—we’re here.” She stopped them outside a tiny eatery.

He opened the door to a packed restaurant redolent with appetizing aromas. “Good thing you made reservations.”

The restaurant was more spacious than it appeared from the street, and the hostess showed them to a cozy out-of-the-way table for two. The scent of food caused his stomach to growl audibly.

“Somebody’s hungry,” Amity said.

“If the food tastes as good as it smells, I’m in for a treat,” he said. The real treat is being with you.

What the fuck? He stomped out the disquieting distraction. He couldn’t help the attraction—she was pretty—very pretty—and pleasant, and while he might be a carbon-copy human being, he was as red-blooded as any man. He couldn’t afford to lose focus. He was here to get the facts, not get laid.

“It’s the best restaurant in 200 million miles,” she joked.

He chuckled on cue.

They perused the menus left by the hostess, and when their server appeared, Amity ordered a glass of wine. “Water for me,” he said.

“Then I won’t either—”

“No, please do,” he urged. Please do. He never drank while working, and while this could be considered extracurricular, he intended to keep a clear head. Conversely, a little alcohol might weaken her inhibitions and loosen her tongue.

She agreed to the wine, and they placed their dinner orders, Marshall opting for the lasagna, Amity ordering poultry with wild mushrooms in a cream sauce.

The light from the tiny table lamp caressed her face, drawing his attention to her smooth skin, her thick-lashed eyes, her soft mouth. His pants got a little tighter. “You look beautiful,” he said. A little flattery couldn’t hurt, but, objectively, it was the truth.

Another time, another place… He ignored the pang of regret.

“Thank you.” An attractive blush crept into her cheeks. Why some man hadn’t snapped her up, he couldn’t fathom. Did she only date blind men?

“So,” she said brightly, “you said earlier you’re just visiting our little planet. Are you here on business, or are you vacationing?”

“Scouting,” he said. “Considering relocating.” Both statements were true, but they were unrelated. He did have imminent plans to relocate—but not here. And he wasn’t scouting for a place to live but for a person. He had to find Bragg before Rogers and Glenn did. If the two Dark Ops agents got to him first, Bragg’s goose would be cooked—and not with wine and garlic.

Why he should give a shit what happened to his subordinate when it could jeopardize his own safety, he couldn’t fathom. He was Bragg’s soon-to-be former CO, not his friend, not his mentor. Yet, from the moment the adult Bragg had stumbled out of the cloning tank, Marshall had felt responsible for him. Maybe because he recalled his own difficulty adjusting twenty years ago.

“To Terra Nova? Are you intending to live off the grid?” she asked.

“Way off the grid.”

“What kind of work do you do?”

“Security consulting, mostly,” he fabricated.

“Not much need for security on Terra Nova.”

Dark Ops had a long reach. “You’d be surprised.” He paused. “But I’m planning on an early retirement.”

“You don’t look old enough to retire.”

“No?” He brushed at the silver wings at his temples. Additional silver threaded his once near-black hair. Owing to genetics, he’d been going prematurely gray.

“No.” The appreciation in her eyes said she wasn’t blowing smoke up his ass.

His lips quirked. “That’s why it’s called early retirement.”

“Touché.”

“I’m forty-five,” he offered, because sharing personal data helped one get personal data. An oversimplified truth became a lie, anyway. Forged public records stated his age as forty-five. However, he’d only been alive for twenty years, emerging from the gestation tank as a twenty-five-year-old male.

Like Bragg, Marshall Clark III was a clone. Unlike Bragg, he’d never bothered to pick his own name but had accepted his progenitor’s and mentally tacked a three on the end. That’s how far back he’d traced his lineage, but it was anybody’s guess how many Marshall Clarks there had been. A name made little difference when you were consigned to Dark Ops, a government agency so top secret even the president was unaware of its existence. Dark Ops had carte blanche to do whatever the hell it wanted—and it did.

He’d had enough. He’d intended to walk away and never look back. He should have been home free by now.

Except for my own stupidity. Except for the inconvenient compulsion to save the other clone from himself. A man couldn’t help feelings. He had feelings—he was having some right now for the sexy woman with the alluring scent. But he didn’t act on them. Not like Bragg.

The other clone had fallen in love with his progenitor’s widow.

Marshall had been aware of the infatuation. The preoccupation had gotten so noticeable, HQ brass had started paying attention. So, when Marshall had learned the widow had joined the interplanetary matchmaking service Cosmic Mates to find a husband, he’d hoped the news would sever Bragg’s emotional attachment.

Instead, it had propelled him to pursue her. Bragg went AWOL, following the woman to Terra Nova, breaking every rule and regulation in the book. Dark Ops would probably institute new rules after this fiasco. If Marshall didn’t find him fast, the dumbass would never see sunshine again.

I never should have told him about Faith. If he’d kept his big trap shut, the other man wouldn’t be MIA. So, yeah, he felt an obligation to fix things. Which he’d better get started on. He hadn’t asked Amity out because he liked her—although, he did. This date wasn’t pleasure—it was business, albeit pleasurable business.

Having encountered Amity, he belatedly empathized with Bragg and envied his courage to follow his heart.

But fools rushed in where seasoned agents feared to tread. Marshall couldn’t risk his freedom for any woman, no matter how pretty her features, how melodious her voice, or how her curvy body stirred his libido and made him yearn.

“You said earlier today you’d accompanied your potter friend to Terra Nova.” He steered the conversation in the direction he needed it to go. “That’s a pretty big change. You two must be very close.”

“She’s my family. We’re both only children, and our parents passed away. My background is in business and marketing; on Earth, I helped to promote her pottery. Faith was widowed five years ago. She decided to make a bold move and come to Terra Nova. I had no ties to Earth, so I came, too, and we opened the shop together.”

“So, there’s no special someone on Earth? No ex-husband?” He’d assumed the former or she wouldn’t be out with him.

“No to both. I’ve never been married.”

“That’s why you joined Cosmic Mates.” When he’d visited the shop earlier in the day, he’d eavesdropped on her tech-tab conversation with Faith.

Amity made a rueful face and nodded. “It’s hard to meet people. It’s harder here than on Earth. Everyone here is coupled up.”

“Any matches through Cosmic Mates other than the Nagarian?” He cursed his curiosity, caring more than he should about her answer.

“Thus far, only him.” She shuddered and took a sip of wine. “I should be more open-minded, but I have a huge snake phobia.”

Her Cosmic Mates match had turned out to be half humanoid, half snake, he knew from the conversation he’d overheard.

“Did your friend sign up for Cosmic Mates, too?” he asked. He already knew she had. His discovery of Faith’s profile and a “pending match” had incited this entire debacle.

Amity winced. “No, just me. I overstepped. I took the liberty of signing us both up, and Faith blew a gasket. She insisted I delete her profile.”

Now, that came as new information. Dammit. If he had known Faith hadn’t been intending to remarry, Bragg wouldn’t have gone AWOL, and Marshall could have been long gone.

“I took her coming here as a sign she’d gotten over Mark, and I figured with a little nudge…” She shook her head. “I wanted her to be happy.” She lifted her shoulder. “But as it happens, she met someone on her own.” Her expression avid, she leaned forward. “You’ll never guess who!”

He’d bet he could.

“Her late husband’s clone!”

“A clone? You’re not serious!” His feigned surprise masked his real dismay. “How is that possible? I didn’t know they could clone humans.” Dark Ops had been secretly cloning humans for decades and had figured out how to accelerate maturation to produce adults. Bragg’s obsession had made him reckless. That Faith and Amity were aware of cloning did not bode well. Showing up looking exactly like Hammond would be hard to explain, but the idiot could have come up with something. “How would he even be close to her age?”

“I don’t know, but he’s a dead ringer for Mark.”

“Are you sure he’s a clone? Maybe the man really is her ex, and he’s feeding her a line of bull.”

“We thought of that,” she conceded, “but Faith saw Mark’s body at the morgue, so she’s pretty sure he’s dead.”

“A twin brother?”

“Faith doesn’t think so.”

“Have you met him?”

She nodded. “He came into the shop. She asked him to go to the craft fair with her. I should have gone with her, but I needed to meet my Cosmic Mates match, so it worked out that he went.”

“I’m glad you didn’t go, or we wouldn’t have met.”

Pleasure lit up her eyes, and guilt smote him again. He wished this could be a real date and not a fact-finding mission. “The craft fair isn’t in Willow Wood, I take it?”

“No, it’s in Glen Lea, quite a distance away, but as it happens, they never got there. The transport crashed en route. They’re waiting on a tow. I have no idea where they’re staying; I forgot to ask. They won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

That’s what he needed to know. Now, all he had to do was intercept Bragg before Rogers and Glenn did.

“How did we get talking about your friend?” he asked, making eye contact. “I’m much more interested in you.” Did he sound sincere?

She blushed.

I’m such an asshole.