Roark entered the office, offering Laird a friendly smile.
“Afternoon, Roark, how’s Harley? Layle’s been in a tiff since she got off the bench and saw you two gone.”
Roark took a seat reclining back, his arms resting at ease on the thick armrests. “Harley’s good, confused, to say the least,” he replied, taking in his surroundings with a special ops gaze.
Laird nodded, closing the folder in front of him and laying his pen down. “The stubborn ones usually are.” He paused, assessing Roark. “What can I do for you?”
Roark furrowed his brow. It wasn’t his thing to go snooping around about people, but it bothered him how Harley refused to talk about her family. He also knew Laird was the type of man to check everything out. It helped he had a past that was similar to his own. “I want to know who Harley is?” he answered simply.
Laird nodded, a sober look crossing his features. He opened a drawer and pulled out a large manila envelope. “I figured that was what you were coming here for.” He slid the file across the desk. “This stays here,” he informed as Roark picked it up.
Roark shot him a look. “That important to have dirt on people?” he asked.
Laird scoffed. “Don’t insult me, pup.”
Roark pulled out a book, frowning. “A book?” he asked. He looked it over. It looked more like a rough manual of sorts, although a very important one, for a top-secret kind of situation. He looked over the title, a disgruntled look crossing his features as he read, The Emulation of Human Nature. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he grumbled.
Laird shook his head. “No…Harley is a very special woman,” He reclined in his seat folding his hands over his stomach. “I wasn’t sure what I was getting into when I found this bit of information,” He cleared his throat and hoped Roark could comprehend the importance of his words. “I have an idea of who and what is behind why Harley is special.” He leaned forward coming to rest his elbows on his desk. “Take a quick look through. Keep an open mind and remember this is not the person we think it is. As far as I know, she is another version.”
Roark’s top lip twitched. Harley was an experiment? No, couldn’t be! No fucking way he was in love with the world’s first goddamn guinea pig! He looked at Laird, eyes narrowed and shooting daggers. “No.” he sneered. He couldn’t believe it. His Harley was all woman. He scanned through the pages. If this was a copy of Harley, when had Harley been made? Dread cursed through him. His hand shook and he shook his head. This couldn’t be.
Laird nodded. “I had my curiosities when I was at Layle’s. Saw how different Harley was from her. How nothing seemed to stop the girl in her tracks. Shit, in the last three years she’s climbed the ladder faster than any man has. Not that that is bad, just curious.” He straightened out. “I did a check on Layle, another on Harley, and even you when you were at her home.”
Roark grunted. Great, more people knowing about his tainted past.
“You and Harley aren’t so different, Roark.” Laird sat back, pondering the young man. “You were trained from a young age to fight, to survive…Harley was designed to fight, to survive.”
Roark grunted. “She’s not even human!” he uttered. According to the pages in front of him, she wasn’t! She was…a fucking manmade machine with human flesh grown on her. Anger seethed through him. How could anyone do this to his Harley?
Laird shook his head. “Oh, she’s human. In the aspect that she has flesh and a heart and a brain and all the organs we do. She just has a few more upgrades then we do. If you flip through, you’ll see that she has titanium bone structure. Her flesh is similar to ours, but can repair its self.” He reclined back in his seat. That would be a sight to see, but he wasn’t into slicing and dicing up a woman to see how she worked. “I’ve yet to figure out why she was made. What use they have for her. What her true potential is.”
Roark looked at him. “Are they watching her now? Is she under surveillance twenty-four-seven? What the fuck is going on here?” His brain spun. This was government based. They had to be watching, recording, keeping stock of their unique experiment.
Laird shrugged. “I honestly can’t answer that. It’s past my level of expertise. As far as I know, she’s not on watch twenty-four-seven. Maybe some sort of monitors on her heart? Her brain waves, maybe.” he shrugged. At this point, it would all be guesses on his part. He had friends looking into it, keeping tabs on her to see if others were watching her, monitoring her in any way.
Roark slumped back, staring at the book, plain black with large white writing. This couldn’t be happening. He knew the government did some crazy shit, but this! This wasn’t even morally right!
Harley’s heart pounded in her chest. Shit, he was actually here. She looked at her big, wooden door and bit her lower lip between her teeth. She should just leave him out there. She shouldn’t let him in. This could end badly.
She took a step toward the door, shaking her head. No! She wouldn’t let him in. She wasn’t some desperate woman looking to get her kink on. She grunted and paced one hand on her hip, the other washing through her loose bangs as they settled over her eyes.
Fuck, she needed to hit the salon. Eww, he wanted to get naked with her after months of being on tour and not having the proper facilities to take care of her damn self? Shit, her bush that she usually loved to have completely waxed was fully grown and peeking out of her panties in a wiry thatch that drove her insane, not to mention grossed her out. She had never liked that. She shuddered. And her legs! Oh God, the hair there was probably as long as his!
She couldn’t do this. No way, no how, would she let him see her naked again. Not in this sad state of affairs. She looked at the rattle of the doorknob.
“You can’t come in here!” she screeched, rushing the door. How stupid of her not to lock the fucking thing.
Roark closed the door and put himself between Harley and it.
She came to a skidding halt and near slammed into him. Her face was flushed, and the little cut-off T-shirt did very little to cover the under swell of her breasts. Her short shorts displayed her muscled thighs, and he fought not to haul her up and slam her against the wall in a deep kiss.
“Get out!” she ordered, taking a step back.
Roark grinned, locking the door and taking a step toward her.
Harley crouched in a defensive position and readied herself for his upcoming assault.
Roark slipped his coat from his broad shoulders and hung it on the freestanding hanger next to him. “Not leaving till you and I have a word, Harley,” he drawled, stalking her.
Harley grunted, backing away from his towering form. Shit, he acted like he belonged in her home. “You brute, back the fuck off or I swear I’ll strike you down.”
Roark stopped, looking her up and down. He assumed on her first swing that tiny shirt would rise and her tit would pop out. His lip curled in a roguish smile. He would take that. He took another step.
Harley lashed out, only to have his hand catch her fist in a tight grip. He lifted her arm easily above her head, and she had to go on tiptoes so he wouldn’t pull her arm from her socket. His other hand reached out and cupped her breasts. Her knees buckled and he caught her in his arms, his mouth slamming to hers in a hungry kiss.
A vase crashed on the floor as he shoved her on top of the island that took up a greater portion of the kitchen area. Her legs tightened around him, pulling him closer, pressing his hard cock against her pussy. Her tongue thrust against his hungrily, and her hands cupped the back of his head and held him in place.
Roark ground his hips against hers and was rewarded with a hungry groan.
Harley pulled her mouth away and nipped at his neck, her hands eagerly pulling at his shirt, pulling until she had it thrown across the room. Her hands started on his belt buckle.
She paused and looked at the thick leather connected to that buckle. Her hands trembled. She looked him in the eyes and stopped. They shouldn’t do this. This was so wrong on so many levels.
Roark shook his head. “Shut those thoughts out, baby,” he coaxed, his mouth nipping her. “We both want this and you know it, baby,” he whispered, shoving his hand down her shorts crudely. His finger delved into her slick folds just to further prove his point.
Harley groaned shaking her head. “Shouldn’t,” she mumbled, unbuckling his buckle.
Roark nodded. “Yes we should,” he hummed, dipping his finger into her hot cunt. His eyes rolled, and a deep groan broke from him at the heat that surrounded his finger.
Harley squeezed the walls of her cunt, gripping his finger. “Now, Roark,” she whimpered. Just a few more strokes and she would come, she was sure of it. It had been too long since she’d had a man. She panted against his neck as his finger fucked her, his thumb working her clit.
She rocked her hips against his hand, grasping at his shoulders as she bucked, her legs tightened on his narrow hips. She could feel his wallet in his back pocket. Shit, he probably had condoms in there. She reached back and slipped it out, opening it.
“Whatta ya doing?” he uttered, his mouth whispering along her neck.
“Condom,” she mumbled, opening the folded leather.
“Left side,” he mumbled, nibbling on her ear, a second finger joining the first.
She shivered. “Oh fuck.”
The wallet fell to the floor, and her body bowed as an orgasm struck her. A strangled cry ripped from her mouth, and Roark groaned as her cunt pulsed around his fingers.