Shades of Gray by Jackie Kessler

in black, his head covered in a ski mask fitted with goggles. His hover revved, and he extended a gloved hand.
    Her heart skipped a beat.
    “Sorry to break up the impromptu press conference, honey,” Taser shouted, “but you’re needed!”
    Desperate, she smiled for the cameras. “My sincere apologies,” she said brightly. “But duty calls.” A spring of Shadow propelled her upward, and she grabbed Taser’s outstretched hand. He pulled her onto the back of his hover with ease.
    “Jet!” a reporter cried. “Is this your new boyfriend?”
    She nearly gagged.
    “Might want to hold on to my waist,” Taser suggested. And then he gunned the engine and they took off.
    Jet clutched onto him, hating him and thankful for him. As the wind whipped her cowl back and sent her cloak fluttering madly, the Shadow voices giggled and teased, whispering things that made her want to cry. Then they receded.
    For now.
    He said nothing as they rode, and neither did she, but there was an energy between them, dancing, suggestive. She gripped his waist and gritted her teeth, and in a charged silence Taser and Jet cut through the polluted skies.
    When they landed on a rooftop somewhere in the Waterfront Grid, Jet nearly flew off the hoverbike.
    “Usually, the damsel gives her savior a token of her affection,” Taser said.
    She clenched her fists, felt the Shadow pulsing around her curled fingers. “I’m so very grateful that you saved me from the evil press corps,” she said curtly. “What do you want, Bruce?”
    Under the mask, the outline of his mouth pulled into a grin. “You, of course. You’re looking particularly sexy tonight in your skinsuit.”
    “Don’t,” she said quietly.
    “That’s right, you have no sense of humor. I remember that from your file.”
    “And I remember how you lied to me,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm, “how you used me and seduced me, how you betrayed me and nearly got me killed!” She was shouting now, the words erupting from her mouth. “You’re a bastard, Bruce Hunter!”
    He watched her for a moment, then slowly brought his hand to his chin and lifted the mask. His face, pale against the black fabric and the dark mass of his hair, was still upsettingly handsome. Bruce Hunter smiled at her, but his blue eyes held regret.
    “It wasn’t personal, Joan,” he said. “It was business.”
    “Right. Because mercs will sign on with anyone, for any cause, as long as the money’s good.” Suddenly cold, she rubbed her arms. A small part of her had been hoping that the mercenary called Taser had lied to her, back when he’d captured her and Iri weeks ago, that he wasn’t really the same man who had been her Runner.
    The same man she had taken to her bed.
    But the proof was right there in front of her. No, he hadn’t lied—not then, and not now. Though she despised that she had been his assignment, she could appreciate his work ethic.
    And damn it all to Darkness, she was still attracted to him. Stupid hormones.
    “What do you want, Bruce?” she asked again, her voice flat.
    “You and the others are in a bind,” he said. “Too much chaos, not enough control.”
    “Your point?”
    “I was a Runner,” he said. “I can gather up the others, organize them into a cohesive unit.”
    “The others?”
    “The other Runners. Think about it—a dedicated civilian group that would support you and the others.”
    She frowned. “You could do that?”
    “Honey, I’m damn good at my job. When I was your Runner, I made sure to learn everything I could about the Runner network, how they operated, and what they did. How to contact others in a pinch.” He grinned, and Jet’s stomach fluttered. “They’re running scared now, like sheep. All I have to do is herd them, and they’ll be back in support mode in no time flat.”
    Light, how much easier things would be, having even a little help. They could work with Frostbite on sorting through the Corp data, decrypting it in their search