Authors: Cathy Pegau
Because that’s who he is, an agent on a mission, and you are a means to his end.
They each had their own agendas. It was best to leave it at that. He was doing whatever it took to save his sister; she would do the same to start a new life. Whatever it took.
Sasha stood in the foyer of her new apartment building, where soft white walls glowed warmly under a hanging lamp. An elevator and an enclosed staircase gave her options to reach her third-floor flat. In these heels, after the evening she’d had, the elevator won. She pressed her hand to the access panel. The doors opened with a soft rattle and Sasha stepped inside. She tapped the icon for the third floor, grateful to be done for the night.
As the elevator rose, the encounter with Marco replayed in her head, sending a chill down her spine. She closed her eyes and fought the urge to spew onto the floor. Amber played games with the mind, took memories and altered reality. Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe she’d imagined their sharing amber. Maybe she hadn’t ever been with Marco and he was just messing with her, testing her for Guy.
But when the elevator stopped and the doors opened, a sudden influx of what she knew were real memories made her stomach knot. A man’s naked hip. A tattoo of a snake coiled around a tree. She remembered brushing her lips across salty skin. Marco’s low, gravelly voice above, urging her on, his hand twisted in her hair. She crossed to his navel and downward...
Sasha’s eyes flew open. The berry-flavored Cosmo she drank surged upward. She covered her mouth and raced out of the elevator. Thankfully, her flat was close. She slapped the admit panel and shoved the door open. Set on auto, the recognition system brought the lights up without verbal command. She flinched at the brightness—at the exposure—and bolted across the hall to the small kitchen area.
Hands braced on the counter, she breathed slowly and deeply to keep the puke and sobs at bay. Acid burned at the base of her throat. It felt like someone was alternately sitting on her chest and punching her in the head.
How could she have done that with Marco? It was foolish to get involved with the likes of him. Not to mention the insane risk of Guy’s wrath if he had caught them. And for what? An extra hit of amber? Had she been that bad? That far gone?
Obviously.
Why did the horrible memories seem to return a helluva lot faster than any others? Probably because there were more horrible ones associated with amber, Guy and Marco than any other kind.
Sobs still threatening, Sasha tapped the faucet to activate the water. She splashed some on her face, mentally focused on the cool liquid trickling down her neck.
Things were different now. She’d paid the price for her addiction. Paid dearly. She wasn’t that person anymore. She’d promised herself she would never touch amber again.
The image of the mortar and pestle on the table at The Morrissey, surrounded by glittering amber dust, made her shudder. Resisting the petty dealers on the street had been relatively easy, especially with her freedom hinging upon weekly urine samples. But to see it there at the club for anyone to take, within arm’s reach, had startled her. She’d forgotten how generous Guy could be with his merchandise when he felt like it. When he wanted to solidify the bonds, the hold he had with his favorites.
Sasha splashed more water on her face then used the sleeve of her dress to dry it. She stepped over her purse on the kitchen floor and made a shaky retreat to the worn couch, the too-soft cushions drawing her down as she lay on her side.
“Lights off,” she said, the words rasping in her raw throat.
The system complied and the room darkened. Outside, city lights reflected yellow-gray off low clouds, making the two windows a weak source of illumination. Snow pinged against the plasti-glass, little pellets that melted as they dribbled down the panes.
That was then. That was then. That was then.
The mantra helped reduce the convulsions in her gut to trembles. The stuttering sobs slowed, became normal breaths. Her head throbbed, but not so painfully that she would muster the energy to get up and find some med tabs.
She wasn’t that girl any longer. That girl who would trade her body for a few hours’ worth of oblivion. That girl who didn’t care what she did or what anyone did to her as long as the next hit of amber was in sight. That girl had ceased to exist four years, ten months and eight days ago. Or at least since Sasha’s release eight months ago.
She rubbed the side of her neck and examined the darkened living area of the flat. The bedroom was little more than a closet, and other than the requisite commode and sink, the lav only had a narrow shower stall. But it was her flat.
Her
flat. No one monitored her coming and going. No one would send out an alert if she missed curfew. There were no amber dealers waiting in the shadows between buildings, at least none as bold as the ones in her old neighborhood.
Sasha only had to check in at a parole kiosk once a month now. When this was over, she wouldn’t need to check in at all. Sterling had delivered the first half of his promise, and she appreciated the favors he’d called in to get her this much. But if she wanted to be truly free, she had to follow through to the end. Get to Guy. Save Kylie to save herself. The chip would be deactivated, almost as good as removed from her body entirely, not just set on passive. Not a constant reminder of who she’d been and what she’d done.
What she’d been and done with Marco.
The incident outside The Morrissey ran through her brain and she trembled. The ugliness on Marco’s face changing to shock and fear as Sterling’s arm came around his neck. Over Marco’s shoulder, Sterling’s blue eyes blazed, and the white scar across his forehead had stood out against red anger as he pummeled the taller man. Then rage had become concern and relief when Sterling saw her sprawled on the walkway. His expression, his blatant emotion, had made her heart race in a way no man ever had before.
Until that point, she hadn’t expected any sort of sentiment to accompany the promise of physical protection. Girls like her didn’t get saved by men like him because they actually cared.
Sasha rubbed the side of her neck again. No,
that
girl was gone.
And God help her if she ever came back.
* * *
At nineteen hundred the next evening, Sterling stopped in front of the five-meter-high gate that allowed access to Guy Christiansen’s sprawling home twenty minutes outside the Pandalus city limits. If anyone had questioned Christiansen’s public image as a third-party shipping entrepreneur, and how he’d made enough credits to afford a better home than some corporate executives, Sasha had never heard them.
Several spotlights illuminated the area in front of the gate and, though unseen, she knew cameras were pointed at them. Sasha had filled Sterling in on the cams and other surveillance devices, but who knew what Guy had added since she’d left?
Three hundred meters away, through the square mesh of the gate, beyond the blanket of snow covering the grounds and past perfectly spaced imported willows, Sasha caught a glimpse of the house. Almost all the windows were lit and outside lights illuminated the gleaming façade. Did Guy have a party going on?
“Did he mention other people being here?” Sterling asked as if reading her mind.
“No. When Guy wants to talk business, it’s usually done in a very private manner.” She’d been dismissed from his presence on more than one occasion when a business associate came to the house. To appease her, he’d promise her his full attention after the meeting. It had made her smile then and shudder now.
“For obvious reasons.” Sterling lowered the window on his side. Cold air and the metallic scent of impending snow blew in. “Maybe he changed his M.O. in the past few years.”
“Yeah,” Sasha replied. “Maybe.”
“Yes? Can I help you?” a feminine voice asked from a mounted speaker.
“Sasha James and Nate Hollings to see Mr. Christiansen,” Sterling answered.
They waited several moments for the gatekeeper to admit them. Sasha didn’t recall a woman ever being on Guy’s payroll for that particular job. Usually it was an enforcer wannabe, someone fresh from a mining town or a city kid trying to escape poverty. The woman behind the speaker had come across as older, more self-assured than that. Maybe things
had
changed with Christiansen, to a degree.
The gate panels slid apart to allow Sterling’s car through. He glanced over at her as he raised the window. “You good?”
Sasha nodded, wiping her hands along her thighs. The soft material of her heather-gray trousers kept her warm, but for some reason her legs felt numb. Her entire outfit, from the shimmery white blouse to the black leather boots, was intended to show Christiansen she was a new woman, someone he could rely upon and trust. Sterling was dressed with similar purpose, in shades of blue that emphasized the vivid color of his eyes.
Not that the latter was meant for Guy, she was sure.
Sterling maneuvered the car forward along the paved drive winding through the willows. The house, a multi-tiered, angular monstrosity Sasha had admired when Guy first brought her here, now appeared more garish than the symbol of success he meant it to be.
“Nice place,” Sterling said. They parked somewhat separate from the dozen ground cars and several high-end air cars in front of the house. “Damn. I guess he is having a party of some kind.”
Sasha paused before opening the door. “What do we do?”
The original idea had been to cultivate a relationship with Guy so Sterling could have some freedom of movement within Guy’s organization. From there, he would have sought out Kylie and grabbed her when he felt it was feasible. The invitation to Guy’s home had been an unexpected boon. Now, Sterling had hoped to get to Kylie sooner rather than later, but a house full of people hadn’t factored into his plan.
He ran a hand over his clean-shaved cheek and stared up at the mansion. “If his people are milling about, Kylie might be there. If she sees me before I see her, getting her out could be a problem.” His unwavering gaze fell on Sasha. “If this goes to hell, we may have to run. You ready for something like that?”
“Sure,” she said with a harsh laugh. “We’ll just race across the grounds, jump the five-meter gate and run back to the city.” Was he skitzie?
Sterling grinned at her, but it was more fatalistic than amused. “If we have to. Let’s go.”
She stared at him as he got out, circled around the front of the car and opened her door. Sterling was determined to rescue Kylie, come hell or high water. Meeting with Guy meant returning to a world Sasha had sworn off years ago. But who was more dangerous to be with tonight, Sterling or Guy?
Sasha found herself taking Sterling’s arm on the path to the door. His free hand covered hers, and the warmth of his calloused palm sent pleasant tingles dancing across her skin. Holding on to him felt right, natural.
Returning to Guy made her want to heave.
How many times had she climbed these low steps, passed through that doorway? And how many times in the past four years had she vowed to never have anything to do with Guy Christiansen ever again?
Sterling removed an ID from his coat pocket and waved it over the raised panel beside the frame. Moments later, the door swung open and a tall woman in a red dress greeted them, her straight, shoulder-length blond hair stirring in the breeze. She didn’t look familiar to Sasha, but that meant little, considering her memory.
“Mr. Hollings,” the woman said, smiling at Sterling. Her brown eyes shifted to Sasha, and she nodded. There was no indication she recognized Sasha either, so perhaps she was a more recent addition to Guy’s entourage. “Miss James. Please, come in. Kenneth will take your coats. Mr. Christiansen is waiting in his office.”
Sterling released Sasha’s arm as they entered the foyer. The same masculine scheme she remembered, as Guy wasn’t one to redecorate often. A black metal chandelier hovered below the high ceiling of the entry, bringing out a deeper glow from the expensive honeywood paneling. Three wide passages branched off this area, and a staircase with black metal, scroll-worked balusters led up to the next floor. A middle-aged man—again, no one Sasha recognized—in a gray suit waited for them to remove their coats then disappeared around a corner with the garments. If she and Sterling needed to run, they would have to do it without protection from the cold.
“Quite a place he has here. A lot of cars too,” Sterling said.
The blonde gestured for them to follow her down the brightly lit hall to the right. Her red, eight-centi heels struck the stone tiles of the floor with authority. “Mr. Christiansen is having a small get-together. He may ask you to join his other guests after your business is concluded.”
She led them past several closed doors and an open gallery filled with artwork and leather-bound books. The spotlighted showpiece over the white and gild mantel of the fireplace was a portrait of a young, dark-haired woman wearing an enigmatic smile. Guy, Sasha recalled, knew nothing about ancient art or antique books. But they sure looked impressive.
The blonde stopped at the end of the hall before a closed door and turned to them. “He’s in an interesting mood this evening. I’d advise you to tread carefully.”
Sterling held out his hand, smiling. “We appreciate the advice, Miss...?”
She shook his hand. “Caine. Genevieve Caine.”
“Thank you, Miss Caine.” When they released each other, he straightened his tie. “I think we’re ready. Sasha?”
Sasha nodded. He grinned at her and winked.
Genevieve grasped the gold-toned handle of the office door and pressed her thumb to the glossy black stone set in the top. The stone glowed greenish as it read her print, and a click sounded. She pushed the heavy door open then stepped aside to let Sasha and Sterling through. “Good luck,” she said to Sterling.
The soft glow from wall sconces lit the otherwise shadowed room, while twin lamps bathed a massive desk in a pool of white light. Seated behind the desk, the man himself concentrated on the thin screen of his SI unit, his fingers flicking across the keyboard projected on the wood surface. Sasha and Sterling stepped inside, and Miss Caine closed the door behind them.