Authors: Cathy Pegau
The room wasn’t Guy’s private, personal space, as he conducted all manner of business here, but it was definitely his. From the heavy furnishings and more of the expensive wood paneling to the faint, spicy scent of his cologne.
Guy tapped with decisive finality. He stood to greet them, a smile on his tanned, handsome face. “Sasha. Mr. Hollings. Glad you could make it.”
Sterling returned the smile and strode forward, leaving Sasha at the door and giving her a chance to see them side-by-side for the first time. The two men were both blond and fit—one tall and lean, the other broad-shouldered—but they couldn’t be more different in ways that mattered. Guy took whatever and whomever he could to use to his advantage. Sterling may have sought her out for his own reasons, but his ultimate goal wasn’t selfish at all. Though half a head shorter, Sterling’s confidence and bearing more than made up for Guy’s higher status in this situation. Sterling would stand out in any situation, really.
She followed Sterling to the desk.
“Mr. Christiansen,” he said as they shook hands. “Helluva place you have here.”
Guy laughed. “It keeps the snow off my head.” He released Sterling’s hand and extended his toward her. “Sasha, you look amazing.”
As opposed to what?
she wanted to ask.
The mess of a woman you knew almost five years ago?
Instead, she smiled and managed to take his hand without cringing. He gently pressed her cold fingers. She squeezed back, putting herself if not on equal ground, then on something more than that of sycophantic follower. “Thank you. I appreciate you seeing us.” She gestured toward Sterling. “We both do.”
“You know me,” he said, giving his boyish grin. “Anything to make more money. Please, have a seat.”
She and Sterling each took a chair in front of the desk. The leather creaked softly as she sat back and glanced around the room. This wasn’t her first time in his office, in this particular chair even, but she’d never come here as a potential cog in his business dealings. Asking if she could borrow one of his cars to go shopping, yes. Asking if they were going to go to the hottest party happening that night, yes. Asking—begging—for more amber, yes. God, yes. Always asking Guy for something, always selling herself one way or another for the thrill of the moment.
She glanced at Sterling.
Not that this is all that much different.
She wasn’t selling herself for a thrill, but she and Sterling were certainly using each other for personal gain.
“Tell me about yourself, Nate,” Guy said as he sat in his own chair. He leaned back and crossed an ankle over a knee. His dark, tailor-made shirt and trousers probably cost more than Sasha would have made after a year at the Revivalist Market. The shoes were equally expensive, and in his typical, “I’m just an ordinary man with some little quirks” manner, Guy wore no socks.
“Not much to tell, Mr. Christiansen,” Sterling said. Sasha gave him a mental point for not taking the bait and brashly using Guy’s first name. That, she knew, was one of Guy’s tests of respect, one she’d forgotten about until now. You didn’t call him by his given name until invited to do so, even if he used yours first. “I’ve been a guard at the Corrections Department for ten years, most recently at the Pandalus facility as supervisor, where I met Sasha. Reorganization and redistribution of personnel got me transferred to their mining camp in Kettrick.”
Guy raised an eyebrow at Sterling. “Requested transfer? Not reassigned?”
Sterling settled back in his chair. “No, nothing like that. They were asking for volunteers before resorting to reassignment. The location is crap, and the guards are mostly on their own. No other supervisors wanted to live way the hell out there, but I figured the distance could work to my advantage.”
“I see,” Guy said. “And what made you think of going into distribution?”
He shrugged. “I’m looking for a way to make some extra money and thought it would be perfect. No one looking over my shoulder, as long as the inmates stay put and the keracite gets mined.”
Guy nodded thoughtfully. He glanced at Sasha then returned to Sterling. “How did the two of you get so chummy?”
Sasha’s heart sped up. This was a touchy point in Sterling’s game. If Guy suspected she and Sterling were involved, the drug dealer might not want to consider doing business with them. She resisted moving or looking directly at Sterling but maintained her focus on Guy and kept as neutral an expression as possible.
Sterling’s smile tightened. “You know how it is inside. Cons and guards get to talking. Nothing more than that between us.”
“Just friendly conversation,” she assured Guy.
Guy kept his gaze on Sterling, his eyes narrowed, both men ignoring her for the moment. She wasn’t in this proverbial pissing contest, she realized. She was the prize.
“Sasha’s a beautiful girl, Nate. Inmates are vulnerable, willing to do whatever it takes to make life easier, and everyone has needs, right?”
His implication that she would be willing to “do what it takes” made Sasha squirm. Is that what he thought of her?
Isn’t that what you did with Marco? With Guy?
She forced the voice out of her head and concentrated on the men in front of her.
Sterling leaned forward. “You’re right, she is beautiful. And I gotta say, it wasn’t easy resisting those...needs. But my bigger interest is what ends up in my pocket, not what’s in my pants. I could get as much tail as I wanted at the NCRC, but solid business connections? Those were more difficult to cultivate. Talking to Sasha, knowing she’d been a friend of yours, I figured out which would be the better deal.”
The two men stared at each other as Sasha’s heart thumped hard. Would Guy believe them? He relayed his made-up scenario with such ease, Sasha nearly believed him herself.
She had honestly told Guy there had been nothing between her and her new “partner,” but flashes of them together surfaced in her mind. The two of them in his little dump of a room, his palm warm on her cheek. The security she’d felt when he caught her last night and held her against his chest.
She quickly pushed the images and feelings away.
Careful.
Sasha gave herself a mental shake and refocused on Guy. The thought that she was more than a means to an end with Sterling—with anyone—was absurd.
The drug dealer slid his gaze over to her. Sasha sat very still, tried to read his expression. He was looking for deception on her part, and while it felt as if the entire plan was written in the heat of her cheeks, Guy didn’t appear to see through their ruse. In fact, he smiled and looked at Sterling again. “Good decision. So, tell me more about your plan to increase my business.”
Chapter Six
Sterling rubbed a finger beneath his eye, as if it itched. The gesture activated the recording app within the artificial organ, showing a small red dot in the upper-right corner of his vision. Hopefully Christiansen’s security didn’t extend to jammers that would block it; with all the devices carried by visitors and personnel, he doubted there would be something to detect its presence.
The Justice Department had attempted to scan the house from the outside for the last year but met with failure. No one had infiltrated the drug dealer’s home, so security within was an unknown. If he could hand over a little evidence—even evidence obtained during the unsanctioned operation of going after Kylie—it might make the inevitable dressing-down by his bosses at the CMA a little less severe.
To be on the safe side, he would only record, saving transmission for later from his rented room. That should reduce the risk of detection.
“The idea is to keep it simple.” Sterling made sure his tone was respectful as well as enthusiastic when he answered. “My position at Kettrick gives me oversight of all shipments coming and going. We arrange a way to get your goods on the regular supply transport. Then I make sure the package gets through inspection and is properly distributed.”
“And how are my goods purchased? Correctional inmates don’t have access to large sums of money.” Christiansen’s mouth quirked into a grin. “That’s what I’m interested in, after all.”
Shaking off his CMA mindset, Sterling leaned forward, feet apart and elbows on knees, and concentrated on being the enterprising man Christiansen expected to see sitting across the desk. “Each inmate has an account for necessities like soap or luxuries like coffee or thicker socks. The Colony provides a minimum stipend, which in all honesty is barely adequate, but an inmate’s friends or family can deposit up to one hundred credits a month. Instead of soap or socks, they’ll buy amber. One of my men at Kettrick runs the accounts program. We transfer the credits from there into another account, all without leaving tracks, of course. I send a percentage to you and pay my men out of that account. Easy.”
“It’s never that easy.” The drug dealer tilted his chair back, fingers drumming on the wood desk as he considered the scheme.
Sterling glanced at Sasha. She didn’t look at him but at Christiansen, her face a neutral mask. Her hands were folded in her lap. Did she miss the opulence he’d observed in the small sampling of Christiansen’s world? Life as a parolee didn’t compare to having every desire at your fingertips. What if her chip was deactivated and she went back to this bastard anyway?
He realized his fingers were digging into his thighs and he forced himself to relax. Sasha had made her contempt for the drug dealer known from the beginning. There was no indication she’d go back to him under any circumstances.
“It sounds good, but let me think about it.” Christiansen stood, the words and movement interrupting Sterling’s sudden, completely irrational impulse to grab Sasha and leave.
Sterling and Sasha both rose, and he took Christiansen’s offered hand.
“If it’s worth a shot,” Christiansen continued, “I’ll work out some details with you later and we can give it a trial run.”
Sterling clasped the other man’s hand with both of his and smiled. “Great, Mr. Christiansen. I’m sure this will be beneficial to all of us.”
Christiansen nodded toward Sasha as he eased his hand free. “If it wasn’t for Sasha, you wouldn’t have made it past the gate.”
Beside him, Sasha stiffened. “I—I was just a means to an end. Nate will give me a finder’s fee of sorts and my part is done.” She looked at Sterling. “Right?”
A means to an end
.
Inwardly, Sterling cringed at her choice of words. Without her, he’d had no chance of meeting Christiansen, let alone making contact with Kylie. But just a means to an end? Maybe before he’d met her. Before he’d held her trembling body last night. Before she’d pressed her cheek into his palm and he’d had to use every gram of willpower not to kiss her.
He tried to tell her with his eyes what he couldn’t say out loud, that she was more than that, but couldn’t risk Christiansen picking up on it. Instead, he shrugged and smiled; it felt wrong on his face. “As far as I’m concerned, sure. You made good on your offer to get me in to meet the man.”
Christiansen came around the desk on Sasha’s side and stood behind her. She paled slightly as he laid a hand on her shoulder. The muscles of Sasha’s jaw ticked and some emotion Sterling didn’t catch flashed across her face. Then her features smoothed to coolly neutral. Sterling’s heart dropped to his gut. Damn it, he hadn’t wanted her in this position at all.
“Nate, why don’t you go join my other guests in the conservatory? I’d like to talk to Sasha for a minute. Alone.”
As Sterling’s mind raced to find a reasonable excuse not to leave her, the door to the office opened and Genevieve Caine sauntered in. “Yes, Mr. Christiansen?”
“Escort Mr. Hollings to the party. I’ll be there shortly.” Christiansen slid his arm around Sasha’s shoulders.
Sterling managed to keep the grimace off his face as fear flickered in Sasha’s eyes. Why did Christiansen need Sasha alone? What did he want with her?
Hell, Sterling knew the answer to that. And by the look on Sasha’s face, so did she.
His muscles bunched as he fought the urge to yank her away from Christiansen. He couldn’t do anything of the sort. This was it; this was exactly what he’d needed. A chance to find Kylie.
Her throat convulsed and her mouth opened as if to say something, but Sterling interrupted her.
“Sure, Mr. Christiansen. I bet you throw a helluva shindig. See you in a bit, Sasha.” He turned away from them abruptly, unable to stand the apprehension in her eyes, hoping she understood why he had to leave her there, hating himself for dangling her in front of the drug dealer like bait in front of a terrashark. He had no choice. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but what could he do now? He nodded to his escort. “Miss Caine.”
Caine gestured for him to precede her to the door. As he passed, he noted frown lines marring her brow, her lips pressed together. What was that about? Her heels clicked behind him as he exited the office. He waited for her to shut the door, cutting him off from Sasha.
He won’t hurt her; he’s trying to make her love him again.
As much as the idea made him ill, repeating it to himself was the only thing that kept Sterling from turning around and bursting back into the office.
She would be okay. Whatever he was feeling now was dangerous, risky. He needed to get Kylie—and Sasha—out. Blowing their cover by demanding she stay by his side wouldn’t get that done.
“If you’ll come with me, Mr. Hollings,” Caine said.
They walked side by side down the hall, back toward the foyer and another hall that would eventually lead to the conservatory, Sterling guessed.
“I assume your meeting was favorable,” she said as they passed the library where the painting of the dark-haired woman hung over the mantel.
“Or he would have called for Kenneth and our coats rather than you?”
Caine grinned. “Exactly.”
Sterling appraised the tall blonde. “Are you some kind of majordomo?”
Her smile turned enigmatic, like the woman in the painting. “Something like that.”
“How long have you worked for Christiansen?” Knowing if she were merely an employee or something more would help, but Sterling got the feeling trying to question her about the drug dealer and his operation would be an exercise in futility. At least concentrating on Caine kept him focused on something other than Christiansen and Sasha alone together.
“Eight years,” she said.
During Sasha’s time with Christiansen. “You knew Sasha when she and Mr. Christiansen were...together.”
Caine cast a quick glance in his direction, her smile fading into an unreadable line. “No, not really. I worked in another division of Mr. Christiansen’s operations until four years ago. Miss James and I never formally met.”
“But you knew who she was.”
“Everyone in Mr. Christiansen’s orbit knew who she was, Mr. Hollings.” She stopped before double glass doors that led to a large room filled with plants and accent lighting. People stood in pairs or small groups, talking or admiring the exotic flora. She held the latch but didn’t turn it. Meeting his eyes—she was a few centis taller than him in her heels—Caine searched his face before continuing. “I hope you didn’t have any plans for her, because she’s his now.”
Sterling’s back muscles twitched. If he had fur, his hackles would have been up like a mad dog. “Sasha’s of her own mind, Miss Caine. She’ll make her way with whomever
she
chooses. Not me or anyone else.”
“If you say so.” The knowing grin on her red-tinted mouth made him want to slap her. She opened the door and stepped aside. Conversation and rich, organic scents wafted out. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other duties to attend to. There’s an open bar under the cherry trees just beyond the fountain. Enjoy the party.”
She turned and walked back the way they’d come, her red heels ticking on the floor. Sterling watched her until she disappeared around the corner leading to the foyer. Waiting at the door gave him time to collect himself, to remind himself he needed Sasha to be just what she was: a way to distract Christiansen.
It wasn’t working.
He rubbed his forehead with the side of his finger and sighed. Before he’d met her, when she was merely a collection of reports and vids, it had been easy to see Sasha in that light. But his perception had changed dramatically in the last two days. She wasn’t just an addict or an ex-con out on parole. She wasn’t just a means to his end.
She was a living, breathing person who deserved his respect and protection. Especially since he was the one putting her in danger.
Sasha could work as a distraction for Christiansen, but she was doing a helluva job throwing him off as well. That was something neither of them could afford.
“Fuck.” He stepped into the overly warm, domed room and shut the door with enough force to make the glass rattle. He had to concentrate on getting Kylie then getting all of them out alive.
The couple conversing closest to him turned and stared. Without so much as a nod in their direction, he headed toward the bar. Politeness was not on his agenda at the moment. A finger or two of Christiansen’s fine liquor was.
Nevarro was such a brown and white somber rock of a planet, all the greens and splashes of color in the room caught his attention even as he was focused on finding the bar. He half expect to see monkeys and birds, like those he’d viewed in a holo of Earth’s jungles before rampant deforestation and resource depletion accelerated colonization efforts. But only human nattering flitted around him. Mosaic paths among the raised beds and floor-level plantings led him to the marble fountain. This was where most of Christiansen’s guests seemed to be congregating, laughing and drinking, eating tiny bits of colorful food off of plates smaller than Sterling’s open hand.
On the lookout for Kylie, he circled around the fountain, where a green stone mermaid stood on her tail while marble fish spit water. Behind a three-meter-long bar nestled beneath a matching pair of pink-blossomed cherry trees, two bartenders stood in front of a wall of colorful bottles on glass shelves. As he approached, an older couple stepped up to the female bartender’s end and ordered drinks.
Sterling moved to where the male bartender was wiping the polished stone top. “Vodka. Neat.”
The man nodded, stashed his towel and poured the drink. Sterling downed it in a single mouthful. The ice-cold vodka evoked the slightest of burns as it slid into his stomach. Good stuff, and he’d feel it later if he wasn’t careful. He held the glass out. “Another.”
Second drink in hand, Sterling leaned against the cool stone bar and turned to survey the crowd. Christiansen’s guests, mostly older couples with a few younger folks here and there. Grim-faced men and a few stoic women in dark suits perused the room and muttered into collar mics. Security, Sterling reckoned.
He wondered if there was a purpose to the party. While Christiansen was a notorious drug dealer in the eyes of the Justice Department, he was also publicly known as a successful businessman and generous supporter of charities, ranging from the Miners’ Orphans Home to the Nevarro SPCA. For a man who made a living ruining lives, he donated a lot of money to kids and animals. Go figure.
Sterling sipped the icy vodka. As he swallowed, he turned his attention to the far side of the mermaid fountain—and nearly choked on his drink. Through the splashing water, almost directly in front of him, he saw his sister.
* * *
“What’s the matter, Sasha?” Guy tightened his arm around her shoulder and whispered in her ear. “Afraid I’m going to compromise your virtue?”
It was years too late for that, and they both knew it.
She forced a laugh at his little joke and freed herself from his embrace. She also knew that letting her go was meant to give her a false sense of autonomy. It had worked in the past, but she was prepared for his games now. Hopefully. She faced him and crossed her arms over her chest. Damn Sterling for leaving her here alone. Not that either of them had a choice. Defying Guy at this point would ruin everything; she got that and would have done the same thing in his shoes.
She understood, but she didn’t have to like it.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked.
“Tell me more about Hollings.”
“You know everything I do.” Sterling had suspected he’d corner her over the alias and had spent the better part of their time together before the party drilling her about Nate Hollings.
Guy’s brows drew down into a thoughtful frown. “I’m surprised you trust him.”
That made two of them.
She shrugged. “For a pseudo-lawman, he’s not bad. Never tried to hurt anyone at the NCRC, as far as I know. Did his job, took his fair cut of some black-market deals, that sort of thing. When he learned who I was, who I knew, he came to me with his idea. And he kept the other inmates and guards off my back.”