Authors: Cathy Pegau
He looked at Sasha, the near-blinding glare of the warehouse’s floodlights washing out her fair features. “Ready?”
She turned toward him, her face unreadable. Just a mask, a hardness he couldn’t see through. Was she nervous? Scared? Now that he’d promised himself to be more aware of her reactions and emotions, she’d decided to make an effort to conceal them. She was protecting herself from Christiansen and, if he had to admit it, from himself.
“I’m good,” she said, her voice low and in control. “Let’s get this over with.” Without waiting for him, she got out of the car, slammed the door and headed toward the side entrance.
Sterling rubbed under his artificial eye to activate the recorder then gave himself a mental shake before following. It was time to slip into his role as fledgling drug dealer, not try to suss out her feelings.
At the door, Sasha waited with her hands shoved into her coat pockets. Sterling glanced up at the building. Security cameras at the corners and over the door. The admit panel beside the door showed one glowing red light above its reader and a flat alphanumeric key pad. He swiped his card but the light remained red for several seconds.
Sasha grabbed his arm when he moved to pass the card through the reader again. “Don’t bother.” She looked down at the contact between them and let him go, as if her fingers burned. Sterling didn’t let on to the twinge he felt in his chest. “He has people and programs checking your ID. Probably waiting to see what you do. Guy hates impatience.”
Before she finished speaking, the red light turned green.
“You remember more than you realize,” he said.
“Unfortunately,” she replied, and yanked the handle.
Inside, a bright, narrow hall led to the warehouse, where the shouts of men competed with the rumble of loaders. Sterling pulled the door shut behind them. The lock engaged with a click he felt rather than heard.
“Stay close,” he said as he moved past her to take point. “And get your hands out of your pockets. Wouldn’t want anyone to think you have a weapon.”
“Do
you
have one?”
The enforcement-grade stunner in his ankle holster wasn’t lethal, unless he managed a head shot, but it would buy them time if needed. It was coated to deflect a security scan, which he assumed Christiansen employed. His pulser wasn’t, so he’d left it locked in his room.
Sterling closed his hands and spread them open again, cracking his knuckles as they reached the end of the hall. “We’re covered.”
The rumbles and shouts were louder here, and the smell of hot engine lube and dust wafted between the islands of colorful shipping containers. To their right, along the wall of the hallway, an open staircase led to the second floor.
“Guy’s office and the security control room are up there,” Sasha said. “There’s a packaging area at the back of the main floor.”
“Remember anything else?”
She shook her head. “I was only here a couple of times and not particularly interested in the business end of things then.”
Sterling wanted to reach out to touch her, to let her know he understood where she’d been then and where she was now. Instead, he clasped his hands behind his back. “Right. Do we go up or wait here?”
A door slammed closed overhead, and Marco Delhomme came into view at the top of the stairs. He smiled down at them. No, not at
them
. At Sasha. Sterling flexed his hands and his knuckles cracked again, even as he kept his expression neutral. Beside him, Sasha tensed.
“Right on time,” Delhomme said as he descended. Dressed in black down to his pointy-toed boots, his footsteps rang on the metal stairs.
“Is Guy here?” Sasha asked.
Sterling studied Delhomme’s face. A grimace furrowed his brow for a millisecond before he recovered and forced a grin. “Yeah, he’s on a call. Asked me to give you a quick tour until he’s ready.”
Sasha had said Christiansen was wary of Delhomme. Was there trouble brewing in drug-dealer paradise?
Delhomme led them into the warehouse, turning down long aisles of shipping containers stacked five meters high. “These over here,” he said, gesturing to the right, “are headed back out. The other side still needs to be repackaged.”
The sound of loaders and workers became more pronounced. Two loaders followed the direction of three men standing on the floor, maneuvering containers to a spot closer to the large overhead door. Everyone wore hardhats, but the men shouting directions also had pulse rifles slung over their backs as they consulted handhelds. Having a supervisor wielding a weapon certainly prevented slacking off on the job.
“We third-party ship everything from mining equipment to food supplements to tech components. Product goes out across the colony in one hundred different ways.”
Sterling took in the size and dimensions of the warehouse and how the containers were laid out. Unless there was more underground, which was unlikely, given Station regs and building codes, this wasn’t the main site. “You don’t manufacture here, do you?”
“Nah,” said Delhomme. “That’s done off-site in a sterile environment. Wouldn’t want the customers getting some kind of bug.” He glanced at Sasha and winked. “Right?”
The mask she’d erected before leaving the car slipped, allowing a small wince. “Right,” she said in a voice almost too soft to hear over the noise around them.
“We repackage here to fit specific containers. Size and configuration is unique to each retailer.” Delhomme led them down another aisle that ended at an interior door guarded by a large man with a pulse rifle in his hands. “Guy will tell you what works best.”
“I have a few ideas,” Sterling said.
Before reaching the end of the aisle, Delhomme stopped and turned to him. “I suggest you listen to Guy.”
Sterling felt more than a stab of discomfort at letting anyone, particularly a drug dealer and his dog, dictate to him. “So it’s his way or no way? That’s not the impression I got last night.”
Delhomme stepped forward, encroaching on Sterling’s space. Sterling didn’t move. He just raised his head enough to look the taller man in the eye. “Don’t torque me, Hollings. I’ve been with Guy from the start, doing things no one else would do to keep the operation running. He listens to me, and if I think you’re too much trouble you will have problems. You just shut the fuck up and do what you’re told.”
Sleazy son of a—
“Nate,” Sasha said as she took his upper arm, stopping him from hitting Delhomme for the sheer joy of seeing him bleed. “Let’s just talk to Guy, all right?”
He breathed slowly through his nose and released the tension in his arms and hands. The man was an ass, a bully who used his position in the organization to cower and intimidate. He’d tried it on Sasha the other night and was trying it on Sterling now.
He patted Sasha’s hand, grateful she was there to rein him in. “I’m good.”
She hesitated before releasing his arm. “Why don’t you show us the packaging room, Marco? I’d like to see how that works.”
Delhomme stared down at Sterling for another three heartbeats before easing back. “Won’t be too much for you, will it?”
Her cheeks reddened. The man was on a roll if his goal was to get them both angry. “Rehab chip eliminates the cravings. I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.” Delhomme turned his back on her to head to the packaging room and missed the sneer that crossed Sasha’s face.
It was Sterling’s turn to play pacifier. “Easy,” he said for her ears only. “We can’t kill him yet.”
“Yet.” She followed Delhomme, her gait stiff.
Sterling couldn’t help but smile at her response to his half-serious remark. But any dirty work, should it become necessary, was his job.
“Tour’s gonna have to wait,” Delhomme said, holding up his comm. “Guy’s ready to see you.”
“We don’t want to keep the man waiting, do we?” Sterling looked for a reaction to his borderline sarcasm and was rewarded with a slight narrowing of Delhomme’s eyes. “Lead the way.”
Delhomme shoved the comm into his pocket and came close to bumping Sterling’s shoulder as he moved past. Sterling glanced at Sasha. Their eyes met. She gave a small shake of her head.
Don’t take the bait,
the gesture said.
He knew she was right and mentally applauded her for succeeding where he had failed. Sasha and Kylie both needed him to stay sharp and keep his dislike for Delhomme in check. Now wasn’t the time to start a fight, but Sterling promised himself the man would not come out of this unscathed.
* * *
Marco led the way to the second floor. Sasha followed, and Sterling trailed behind her. As much as she appreciated Sterling’s violent tendencies toward Marco—the bastard seemed to have that effect on a lot of people—they both knew it would do them no good.
Marco was a bully and an obnoxious ass, everything Sterling was not. Marco was downright offensive to those he deemed inferior—which was just about everybody—and crude. Sterling treated everyone with courtesy until they proved they didn’t deserve it. Water and oil didn’t describe their two personalities. More like water and pure sodium.
Would Guy be able to rein in Marco? She hoped so. All this testosterone flying about was making her skitzie.
At the top of the stairs, a short hall led to the building’s security control room. Sasha had never been in there. The door was always closed, and she’d never seen anyone go in or come out. Across the hall, Guy’s office door was ajar.
Marco gave a cursory knock and went in, gesturing for her and Sterling to follow.
Guy stood beside a metal desk near the door. His immaculate white shirt wasn’t tucked in and his charcoal trousers had a crisp crease down each leg. “Glad you’re here. Have a seat.”
Sasha glanced around the office as she made her way to a metal-framed chair. The battered furnishings and scarred floor appeared to have been there since Nevarro was no more than a remote outpost in a newly accessible star system two centuries before, but the sleek computer on the desk was state-of-the-art.
“Not much has changed since you were last here, Sasha.” Guy smiled at her as she and Sterling sat down.
More than you might think.
She smiled back but said nothing.
Guy turned his attention to Sterling. “Get a chance to look around, Nate?”
“Not at the repackaging area,” Sterling said. He shot a glance at Marco, who leaned against the wall behind Guy’s chair. “But I got the gist of your operation.”
“Good.” Guy took his seat. He stared at Sterling with his cool, unwavering gaze. “I’ve checked you out.”
Sterling nodded. “I figured you would. Find anything?”
“Plenty.”
Sasha’s heart stumbled in her chest. Had Guy’s digging turned up something other than what Sterling wanted him to know?
Beside her, Sterling shifted uncomfortably and frowned. “Like what?”
Guy didn’t move for a few seconds then he shrugged. “Nothing terrible. Your file at the NCRC. An incident here and there. Got into a bit of trouble a few years back, huh? Official reprimand.”
Sterling cleared his throat. “One of the other guards welshed on a bet. Words and punches flew. No permanent damage. I took a week unpaid and got a crap shift for three months.”
Sasha suppressed an admiring grin. Sterling put enough of a bad-boy reputation into his fake file to show Guy he was the real deal, yet enough of a clean record to promise there would be no one higher up in the system keeping an eye on him.
“As I said, nothing terrible.” Guy smiled at him.
“Good. What’s your plan?”
“Start out small.” The old chair creaked under his weight. “Just a kilo or two. Bricks or decks, depending on how we ship it out.”
“And how do you want to do that?”
Sterling was being more of a “company man” than he’d implied he’d allow. The smirk on Marco’s face told Sasha he believed he was the reason behind Sterling’s transformation.
“I think the best route would be through food supplements or medical supplies.” Guy leaned forward and started tapping the projected board on the desk. Though Sasha couldn’t see the holo screen from her side, Guy stared intently at whatever he was reading. “Large enough containers to send up to a hundred kilos without being suspicious, but small enough to store on your end. Does that work for you?”
Sterling drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair. “Food supplements. Not medical. We wouldn’t need frequent large shipments since the clinic is established.”
“Don’t you treat your inmates?” Marco asked. “Though knowing addicts, they’d probably bleed to death rather than give up a score.”
Sasha’s face heated, but she refused to let Marco—or Guy or Sterling—see any other reaction.
Sterling narrowed his eyes at the other man. “We treat them just fine. Dead addicts wouldn’t make me much money, now, would they?” He glanced at Sasha but spoke to Guy. “We take care of our assets, Mr. Christiansen.”
Sasha moistened her lips. His look made it clear he included her, but what did he mean?
“Exactly,” Guy said, his focus still on the screen. He’d missed what had passed between the three of them, but Marco stared at her and Sterling. “Keep the customers happy and wanting more. And call me Guy.” He smiled at Sterling. “I insist.”
Sterling nodded.
Marco grumbled something, shifted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. Sterling and Guy ignored him.
“What I need now is authorization codes for shipping manifests,” Guy said. “Got those on you?”
Sterling reached into an inside jacket pocket and withdrew his comm. He set the device down beside Guy’s. “The codes are in there, but I don’t start for another week.”
“That works out fine,” Guy said. “Two bricks will be included in a shipment of Eden Bliss food supplements. The CMA has a contract with them as a supplier for the mines, and we have a contract as a third-party shipper. The manifest will list Omega-3 Oil, with product number 97425-9-84.” Sterling’s handheld beeped as it transferred and accepted data. “These initial kilos are on account. They’re worth ten thousand credits, and I expect payment in three months.”
“Not a problem,” said Sterling.
“I have to leave for Weaver next week, so Marco will be overseeing the first month of the operation while I’m gone.” Guy’s gaze stayed on Sterling, gauging his reaction, Sasha suspected, to being shuffled over to the number-two man.