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“What exactly does that mean?” Abe asks with his arms crossed. “Your investigation hasn’t yielded any results thus far, which makes me wonder if it would be better handled by the local authorities who actually have a vested interest in keeping their beloved mayor safe.”

Otto’s chest puffs out from where he stands next to his cop car, a proud grin stretching his lips.

The vice chairwoman’s gaze bounces from Abe to me and back before she gives him a look that’s both amused and appreciative. “I can assure you we’re doing everything in our power to get to the bottom of this.”

I put a hand on Abe’s arm. “It’s okay. They’re doing their best.”

Abe scoffs, throwing up his hands as he walks away, and I’m mortified. He just scolded one of my professional heroes and someone I hope becomes a colleague someday.

“I’m sorry about that,” I tell her in a hushed voice. “He’s, um, he’s just programmed to be protective of me.”

She looks between us again, and I notice something else I can’t decipher. A knowing, maybe? “Protective. Yes, I sensed that.” She pulls me into a quick hug and adds, “I’m glad you’re okay. I promise we’ll figure this out.”

She leaves with her guards and the kidnapper in tow. Otto gives me an awkward pat on the arm before he leaves too. Ziggy appears at my feet on our walk home, slamming his body against my shin and apologizing profusely for being absent during the action.

Don’t worry about it, I send him. Abe killed one of them. The other likely won’t see another sunrise. Did you have fun with the rats?

Eh, he sends back, refusing to put even an inch between us, likely out of guilt. They gorged themselves on stale bagels and didn’t even try to outrun me. There’s no fun in that.

How rude of them.

He leaps into my arms and purrs relentlessly when I begin stroking his neck. I’m okay, I promise him.

Ziggy doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. I can tell he’s shaken up by the vigorous way he kneads my arm, and nothing short of constant physical touch will calm him right now.

“I don’t think you should go into work tomorrow,” Abe says softly as he sets the alarm just inside the front door.

I can tell he’s trying to broach the subject with caution, leaving plenty of room for me to say no. I appreciate that.

“I realize you’re a busy woman and people depend on you, b––”

“You’re right,” I reply before he has a chance to finish. I kick off my shoes on the mat, and Ziggy lets out a triumphant mew as we head up the stairs. He loves when I call in sick. As much as he enjoys roaming freely around town, he’s happiest during a lazy day at home. “I need a day off.”

I let Abe get me a glass of water, then refill it when I empty the glass in two sips. I let him apply an ice pack to my bruised knees. When he eagerly tucks me into bed with Ziggy curling up as my little spoon, I don’t fight him on that either.

Despite being a bad bitch with the ability to summon a tornado, I’m also a tired bitch whose fight has left her body entirely after everything that has happened.

Before tonight, I was supremely uncomfortable with how Abe watches me sleep. I found it creepy and a complete violation of privacy. But now, I wonder how I’ll ever be able to do it without him.

Chapter 8

Abe

Log entry #2

Day 5 of assignment

It turns out, I have the ability to hate things. So far, the list is quite short. At the very top is the kidnapping attempt I was able to save Emma from, followed by the scent of frozen shrimp thawing in the town hall employee kitchen, and then the sound of Beverly loudly sucking on her cough drops. But the kidnapping attempt is far ahead of the other two.

While I was specifically designed to handle scenarios such as this with ease, my CPU is a mess of dark thoughts and lingering questions. What if I hadn’t gotten to her in time? Where would they have taken her? Would she still be alive right now?

The image of her being carried off by those men pushes to the forefront of my memory bank. I recall my vision briefly blurring with rage before my instinct to fight kicked in. Before rage, however, there was fear. It wasn’t an emotional reaction I thought myself capable of. I know they program us with a wide spectrum of emotions, but as guard bots, I wouldn’t expect fear to be one of them.

But it was there, and I felt suffocated by it.

A niggling voice in my head asked the following question repeatedly that night: What would it be like if Emma had died? Surely, I’d be sent back to the lab in Sweden and reassigned to protect another human or reprogrammed for an entirely different mission. No matter which path was chosen for me, I’d be without her, and that’s something I simply can’t fathom. The prospect of not seeing her face each morning, with sleep creases etched across her cheek, her bonnet tilted slightly, and the adorable pout twisting her features as she stomps toward the shower is unthinkable. She is part of me now, is she not? Part of my day, my existence.

The fear of continuing on without her threatens to paralyze me.