Free Replica by Jenna Black Page A

have a private conversation with Miss Lake, and you are not invited.”
    Fischer looked unhappy and even a little alarmed. Nate wondered if Mosely or his father had given him orders to stick extra close—and report on Nate’s every move. If he decided to launch his own search for Kurt, he would have to be very, very careful not to lead Mosely and his men right to him. Even though Kurt was almost certainly out of Paxco by now and would have fled to a country or state with no extradition agreement with Paxco, Mosely had frighteningly long arms.
    “If it’ll make you feel better,” Nate said, “you can turn your phone back on. But if my father calls, you make sure to tell him I can’t come to the phone. Do not interrupt me under any circumstances.”
    Fischer looked even more unhappy, but when Nate strode toward the den, the guard remained behind. Nate thought he heard the man muttering to himself. It was probably a good thing for both of them that he wasn’t able to make out the words.
    Nate felt an unaccustomed flutter of nerves as he approached the den. Nadia was the only person other than Kurt whose opinion actually mattered to him. If she looked at him and saw an impostor masquerading as her dead best friend, he wasn’t sure he could take it. His father didn’t love him, his mother had been absent from his life for ten years, his “friends” were all sycophants, and now he’d lost Kurt. He couldn’t lose Nadia, too.
    With an effort, Nate ordered himself to man up and get on with it. He took a deep breath as though marching into battle, then stepped into the den.
    Nadia was already waiting for him. She was curled up on a sofa wearing a boxy fleece sweater, with a warm, fluffy quilt tucked around her legs. Her lustrous blond hair was gathered into a sloppy braid that hung over one shoulder, and her face was devoid of makeup. Her cheeks seemed even paler than usual, the circles under her eyes so dark they looked almost like bruises. Nate had never seen her looking so vulnerable before, and guilt stirred in his chest. He didn’t know what had happened on the night of the reception, but he was sure Nadia wouldn’t have been hounded by Mosely if it weren’t for him.
    A hint of pink tinted her cheeks, and Nadia smiled at him ruefully. “I look that bad, huh?”
    Nate shook his head at himself and forced a grin. “Let’s just say I hope you feel better than you look.”
    She made a sound of mock outrage. “You’re supposed to flatter me and say I look great, you ass.”
    He blinked innocently. “You expect me to obey social convention? I may be a Replica, but I’m still me .” He frowned. “Sort of.”
    He’d been trying for humor, but of course bringing up his status as a Replica was about as far from humor as he could get. Way to kill the mood, he scolded himself as he watched the light bleed out of Nadia’s eyes and the smile fade from her lips. He hurried to sit beside her on the sofa. He wanted to take her hand and give it a comforting squeeze, but she was gripping the quilt so hard he’d have to pry her fingers free to manage it.
    “Sorry,” he said. “I was trying to be funny.”
    “Guess that means you really are still you,” she replied, shaking her head at him. There was a tentativeness to her voice he wasn’t used to, and she was staring at his face with too much intensity. He realized she was trying very hard not to give him the visual once-over everyone else had given him.
    “It’s okay to look,” he told her gently. “I know this must be really weird for you. It is for me.”
    She chewed her lip as she finally allowed her eyes to wander. He held still for her inspection, which paused when she reached his wrists.
    “You’re not wearing cuff links,” she commented, and Nate guessed from the heat in his face that he was blushing. He often skipped the tie and sometimes even the jacket that constituted an Executive’s uniform, but Kurt liked him in cuff links, so he usually wore