Authors: Cathy Pegau
A familiar tingle at the back of her throat teased her senses.
Come on, Sasha, come play. It’s been so very long.
Sasha closed her eyes and swallowed hard.
Damn it.
The nanos curbed the physical desire and helped with the psychological. Helped, but didn’t eliminate. She’d been able to resist the dealer near the halfway house, maybe because she couldn’t see or smell his offering. But being in the same room with it?
Amber was an enticing lover, crooking its finger and promising the most exciting ride of your life. Some days she missed that tingle and the oblivion that came with it. Some days it was all she could do to remind herself what amber and Guy had done to her. On those days, she was grateful to be chipped.
I can’t do this.
Sasha gave herself a mental shake.
Yes, you can
.
Sterling and his sister are counting on you.
She drew in a deep, calming breath through her mouth and released it slowly as she located the source.
At one of the seating areas, a glassy-eyed girl leaned over one of the two small stone mortar and pestle sets on a table covered in a fine layer of amber dust. Another young woman and a guy who looked barely legal sat beside her, talking and laughing. The first girl sucked on the end of her pinky and dipped the wet digit in the nearest mortar. She rubbed the orange-brown dust on her lips, licked off the excess from her finger then grabbed the other girl and crushed their mouths together, devouring each other and the drug. The young man stared at them for a moment, grinning, then leaned forward to take a hit.
Amber may have damaged some of her memories, but Sasha recalled the complete lack of inhibition, of caring what anyone thought about what you were doing.
She suppressed a shiver and tore her gaze away from them, finding Guy at the target billiards table, his favorite activity at The Morrissey. Sensors on the table clicked, whirred or played short, jaunty tunes, depending on the success of the player’s shot through the various obstacles.
Bathed in the light of a fixture suspended above the table, he bent over to line up a shot with the laser-guided cue while two other men and a woman waited their turn, should Guy miss. In profile, his pose gave her a perfect view of his long, lean body. He wore tailored trousers and a dress shirt open at the neck, the cuffs rolled up to reveal the tanned skin of his wrists. A gold ring on his left middle finger held a ruby as big as her thumbnail. Guy’s dark blond hair, usually swept back off his forehead, fell across his eyes as he concentrated on the shot.
Sasha wondered if he’d purposely waited for her to enter to begin his casual disregard of her. It was a petty gesture, even for Guy, but it told her in a nanosecond how she must deal with him. She schooled her features to a neutral expression. Cowering and sycophantic posturing would ring false coming from her. Guy had his “yes” men and “anything for you” women, but even during her amber-hazed neediest, Sasha hadn’t been afraid to challenge him. Sometimes.
Guy drew the stick back, checked the line-up then struck the white ball with a solid thud. The ball careened off a U-shaped wicket, rather than rolling through it, and bounced against the rail. A descending, two-tone signal verified his miss.
Guy lowered his head, a self-deprecating grin on his face as the other players gave him a good-natured ribbing. He stepped away from the table to allow the next player up, snatching the chalk cube as he gave room. He chalked his cue and turned his attention to Sasha. Cobalt eyes held hers, the straight eyebrows and mouth offering no hint of what he felt. She hoped her own face was as unreadable, but the bead of sweat trailing down her back didn’t help.
He didn’t look like a monster. Not on the outside. On the outside, he looked like someone you’d find sunning himself on the beaches of Pacifica or farming at a Revivalist ag station. On the inside, he was a man who used men and women for monetary or personal gain. When he tired of them, or when they became difficult or were no longer useful, he had no problem discarding them. The question was, why hadn’t he discarded her?
Guy shifted his gaze past her and jerked his head, telling Jake to leave. Sasha remained near the door as the bodyguard shut her in. Guy turned, handed his stick to another player and said something she couldn’t hear over the conversation and the music in the room. The other man, as dark as Guy was blond, glanced at Sasha then set the stick in the rack on the wall.
Guy angled toward another part of the room, where two short couches sat by a stone fireplace, and motioned for her to join him.
Sasha took a deep breath and followed. “You out there, Sterling?” she said without moving her lips.
No response.
“Sterling?”
She stood in front of Guy and smiled.
Shit
.
* * *
“—there, Sterlin—” Sasha’s voice cut out again.
Sterling smacked the control panel of the car. “Damn it.”
What had that scanner done to the transmitter patch? He’d caught every third word, if that, since the bodyguard ran his detector. At least Sasha wasn’t hurt. Her yelp of pain had almost sent him running into The Morrissey.
Had the scan affected her chip? Maybe. But not enough to trigger the nanos that would induce a heart attack. That was a relief. His own heart had nearly stopped when he thought of Sasha collapsing on the floor, terrified and in pain.
He ran a hand over his face and hair and took a breath, releasing it in a gray cloud that slowly dissipated near his head. To reduce interfering sounds, he’d turned off the rattling heater. It was losing the fight to keep the cold at bay, anyway, yet he didn’t feel it. On the contrary, sweat beaded on his brow as he tweaked the frequency bands in an effort to clean up the signal.
Static, then a voice came through the receiver. “Please. Sit down.”
Christiansen.
Sterling gripped the receiver hard enough for the edge to dig into his flesh.
“Thank you,” Sasha said.
He could imagine the hem of the dark blue dress sliding up her thigh as she took a seat near the drug dealer, and he ground his teeth together. She’d worn the dress to catch Christiansen’s attention and remind him what he was missing; it was a smart move, but damned if he wasn’t feeling like it was a bad idea now.
“I appr— you seeing me like this.”
He pressed the earpiece deeper into his ear canal, as if that would help. The thing was going to become a permanent part of his anatomy at this rate. Nice complement to his eye. Shoving the receiver into his ear wouldn’t make the transmitter work any better. Neither would staring at the door of The Morrissey help him see what was going on beyond it, but he did that too.
“—dn’t have come here, Sasha,” Christiansen said.
A burst of static obliterated everything else. Then the receiver fell dead silent.
Panic gripped his chest. Damn. He had to get her out.
Now.
* * *
Sasha felt the blood drain from her face. Shouldn’t have come? That sounded damn near threatening. She shifted on the edge of the loveseat, keeping her legs together from thighs to ankles. Her mother would have been proud.
She licked her lips, wishing she’d brought her drink with her. “Then why did you invite me back here?”
Guy stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. He rested his arms along the back of the couch. The golden lord of the local drug trade. “You misunderstand,” he said, a pleasant smile on his handsome face. “I meant, you should have come to the house.”
The idea of returning to his house, to the place she’d lost herself, made her cold all over, then numb. “I—uh—I thought approaching you here would be more acceptable. Considering how we parted.”
His smile broadened. “That was a long time ago. No need to hold a grudge, right?”
Was he talking about her or himself? Either way, it was a crock of muck. She had every right to hate him forever, and in all the time she’d known him he’d never let the smallest of slights go without recourse.
“But since you’re here,” he continued, “let’s talk. First, can I get you anything? A drink? Some other refreshment?”
He gestured toward a table with bottles of alcohol and plates and bowls of food. Sasha focused on the one with the mortar and pestles. The trio on the couch were kissing, stroking each other and laughing, indifferent to everything around them.
Yes.
“No, thank you,” Sasha said, tearing her gaze from the glittering dust. “I’m here with a business proposition.”
Guy’s eyebrows rose. “A business proposition? What’s the matter, not being paid enough at the market?”
Sasha curled her fingers, digging the tips into her leg; good thing she hadn’t opted for nail extensions. She shouldn’t be surprised he knew where she worked. But it did surprise her, and it bothered the hell out of her. “This is too good of an idea to pass up.”
He grinned again. “Why don’t you let me decide how good the idea is?”
She took a deep breath and resisted the urge to either smack the condescending look off his face or walk out. Neither would get the job done. “While I was in the NCRC, I met someone,” she said.
Guy’s lips pressed together. If he thought she was involved with another person it could hurt Sterling’s plan, which meant her chip wouldn’t get deactivated.
“Not like that. He was a guard assigned to my block. We got to talking, is all.”
Guy’s expression relaxed a micron and he nodded for her to go on.
“He knew my file, that you and I were—” Her throat tightened as she remembered all too well what they’d been. God, she wanted her drink. But Sterling had the right of it. Any dulling of her senses around Guy or amber was a bad idea. “That we’d been together. He thought I might be able to get you to listen to his idea for expanding distribution.”
“Into correctional centers?” Guy shook his head. “Got plenty of men in those, sweetheart. I don’t need anyone else.”
“Not the centers, Guy. The mines.”
The drug dealer stared at her for a full five seconds then threw his head back and laughed. Everyone in the room turned toward them, except for the trio on the couch. Sasha felt her cheeks heat, not from the attention but from Guy’s derision.
“Is he fucking skitzie?” he said when he recovered enough to speak. “Does he think that hasn’t been tried before? With security measures high as they are now, it’s even worse. Hell, it’s easier to get goods into a rehab center than a mine.” He shook his head, looking at her like she was some innocent waif taken in by a pimp at a shuttle station. “I don’t know what he promised you’d get out of this, Sasha, but I hope it wasn’t much.”
She leaned forward, hoping the anxiety she felt manifested itself in a way that made her seem eager to work with him, not about to puke. “He’s been transferred, has connections. And he’s in a position to allow shipments through inspection. He can explain it better than I can.”
Guy’s doubtful expression didn’t waver. He wasn’t interested in a proposition from someone who had defied him in the past, or from a total stranger.
“Forget it,” Sasha said as she rose. “I shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have bothered you.”
Sterling was going to kill her for skipping out so soon.
She turned toward the door. Turned her back on him, Guy Christiansen, and started to walk away. Not in a hurry, but not slow either. Was
she
skitzie? He’d either let her go and Sterling’s plan would be shot, or he’d get mad and make her wish she’d never dared to imagine being free from him or the system.
“Hang on, sweetness.”
Sasha stopped, cringing at the endearment. Before she turned, she made sure there was an expression of regret tinged with respect on her face. He’d remained seated to show his power.
“No, I apologize,” she said. “I’ll tell my friend he needs to find someone else.”
A slow, knowing smile grew on his face. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”
Sasha’s heart jumped to her throat. Did he suspect? Did he somehow know she was working with a lawman?
“Coming to me with an idea just intriguing enough to catch my interest then back-pedaling to make me think I’m a fool to let it go?”
She frowned, holding his gaze to appear to challenge his statement. She let her features relax into defeat then closed her eyes and sighed. “I didn’t want you to think I was crawling back to you.” She opened her eyes, gave him a hesitant grin. “Stupid pride.”
He rose, smoothed the front of his shirt and strutted toward her. “It’s something I always liked about you, even when it made me want to smack you.”
When he was two steps away, Sasha’s heart thumped hard and sweat broke out on her scalp. He was too close and getting closer. Which meant one thing. He was going to touch her.
“It’s a tempting prospect, Sasha, but I want to know what this guy has in mind.” Guy laid his hands on her shoulders and skimmed his palms down her arms, back up to her shoulders, as if marking her.
She suppressed a shudder and the urge to run, to get away from him as quickly as possible.
“Tell your friend I want to meet him, to see what he can bring to the table. Both of you come to the house tomorrow night around nineteen hundred.”
She blinked up at him. Both of them. To the house. Her part was supposed to be done once he agreed to meet with Sterling. Get Sterling his appointment then get the hell out. But refusing him now would look suspicious and kill Sterling’s chance to save his sister.
Damn the void. She should have expected this.
A lump formed in her throat, and she forced it down before smiling. “Thanks, Guy. You won’t regret this.”
But
she
might.
He shrugged in a boyish, aw-shucks sort of way. “I’m always open to new business ideas, you know that, and seeing you again is a pleasure.” He leaned back and appraised her from head to toe, the grin on his face seeming more lascivious than amused. The way his eyes raked her body made her feel filthy in spite of the long, hot bath she’d taken earlier to relax. She’d need another tonight. “You’re looking good. Really good.”