Jerred's Price

JERRED’S PRICE

An Ellora’s Cave Publication, May 2004

Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

PO Box 787

Hudson, OH 44236-0787

ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-843-X

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned): Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

JERRED’S PRICE © 2004 JOANNA WYLDE

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Edited by
Martha Punches.

Cover art by
Darrell King
.

JERRED’S PRICE

Joanna Wylde

Joanna Wylde

Chapter One

Transit Station Three

Just inside Imperial Space

Year 6296, Saurellian Calendar

“How’s Giselle this evening?” Vetch asked expansively as he walked into the bar.

Giselle winked at him, used to his flirting. The station was part of the freighter captain’s usual run, and he came in at least once every other week. She gave him a big grin and leaned forward across the bar, flashing her cleavage at him.

“I’m fine, Vetch,” she said. “Getting better all the time. What can I do for you?”

“My friend and I needed a comfortable place to talk, and naturally we thought of Manya’s,” Vetch said, gamely attempting to maintain eye contact with her. Every few seconds she caught his glance darting downwards. Men always looked at her chest first She was used to it by now.

“They’re still there, hon,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, I check on

’em first thing every morning, just for you.”

Vetch blushed, and she gave a deep, rich laugh. Then he started laughing, too, and to her surprise he leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“You’re one in a million, Giselle,” he said. “But I have business to take care of this evening. Can you set up me and my friend with a pitcher? Talking business is thirsty work.”

“Is there anything that’s not thirsty work for you, Vetch?” a man asked. Giselle looked up, startled.

Her breath caught.

Vetch had always seemed tall to her, but this man towered over the friendly freighter captain. His face was hard, angular, and a nasty scar twisted one side of it, pulling his features into a permanent snarl. Startled, she looked down quickly, but she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. He wore tall, black boots that seemed to be made of leather, of all things. Leather was expensive… Her eyes moved slowly upward following a roughened pair of black breeches that clung to every lean muscle of his legs.

A loose, black shirt draped his upper body, and he carried a leather jacket cradled in one arm.

His gaze met hers coolly as her eyes reached his face. That scar caught her attention again, and she found herself looking at it with morbid fascination. What kind of wound would do damage like that, and why hadn’t he gotten it fixed? He cleared his throat meaningfully. Embarrassed, she flashed a smile at him. She had been rude. He didn’t smile back. In fact, he didn’t respond to her at all. Instead he looked away, checking out 4

Jerred’s Price

the room as if he was expecting trouble. Her intuition pricked, and she made a mental note to keep an eye on him. If there was trouble this evening, she’d bet her last credit it would come from him.

“Find a seat, and I’ll be right with you,” she said to him, trying not to let him see how uncomfortable he made her. She’d be damned if she’d show him weakness.

“Thanks, Giselle,” he said softly. He rolled her name across his tongue slowly, as if savoring its taste and sound.

He nodded to Vetch, indicating a table against the wall. As they walked over together, she watched out the corner of her eye as he took a seat against the wall.

Definitely dangerous. She might want to warn Manya…

She brought them their pitcher and some glasses, and tried flashing another smile at him. But even Vetch’s expression was sober now, and it was clear her presence wasn’t wanted. Then a group of Debsian traders came in talking loudly, and her attention was taken up filling their drink orders. Still, she pointed the man out to Manya when he came out from the back office to tend bar. She didn’t like Black Leather’s attitude one little bit.

The bar filled steadily over the next two hours, and while she checked regularly on the two men, they didn’t want anything more from her. She had to admit, the way Vetch’s friend ignored her piqued her interest. She was used to men noticing her, used to them paying attention when she flirted and smiled at them. She was getting nothing from him, although at times she felt as if might be watching her.

After she stopped by the table to check on them a third time, something flickered in his eyes as she brushed past him—she knew she was on to something. He noticed her, but he didn’t want to show it. She smiled to herself, wondering why she was bothering to play this little game with him. Boredom? Maybe. A little flirting would make the shift go faster. After all, if he were going to cause trouble, he would have by now. She reached one hand to her already low neckline and pulled it down just a bit. Manya gave her a pointed look, which she ignored. Cleavage sold drinks—he knew that. She was just doing her job.

On her next pass through the tables she ignored Black Leather, focusing on the Debsians instead. She leaned over as she served the traders, flashing them a wide expansion of soft, sloping breast littered with ginger-colored freckles. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Black Leather’s stare. She pretended not to see, and then leaned forward even further.

“Anything else I can get you boys?” she asked in a low voice, winking at the loudest of the traders. He was a bluff, friendly looking man who didn’t seem used to getting attention from women. His friends hooted, and one slapped him on the back.

Encouraged, the man leaned forward and held out two fingers with a credit chit between them.

“This is all yours, darlin’,” he said. “I don’t suppose you want to come back to my hostel with me?”

5

Joanna Wylde

“Nope,” she said with a wink, “I’m not really that kind of girl. But I appreciate the offer.”

The men groaned, and then, to her surprise, their leader reached out and tucked the credit chit between her breasts. She drew in a breath, about to let him have it, when she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She had Black Leather’s full attention now. Feeling pleased with herself, she laughed and stood up.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said, picking up her tray and balancing it against one full hip. “I appreciate the tip.”

“Another round!” one of the traders said in a loud voice, face flushed from drink.

“We’ll keep you busy tonight!” They all broke into a round of cheers, thumping the table for emphasis. Feeling pleased with herself, she sashayed away from the Debsians toward the two men against the wall. Vetch waved her away from them, but she came over, pretending to misunderstand his gesture.

“Can I get you boys anything?” she asked. Black Leather shook his head, darkness filling his face. Vetch looked a little nervous, and Black Leather leaned back in his chair, lifting one arm casually and laying it on the seat back behind him. Her eyes ran down his body languidly. Then they stopped. He had a blaster holstered against his side. The jacket had hidden it from her sight when she’d first come in.

Damn.

Manya had a security screen on the door. Why hadn’t it picked up his weapon? She felt the smile fade from her face, growing uncomfortable under his steady, cold gaze.

“We ask our customers to check their weapons before coming in here,” she said uncertainly, looking toward the bar for backup. Manya was deep in conversation with Kisti, the other barmaid. Neither looked in her direction. “It’s against station regulations to have a blaster in an establishment that serves alcohol. It’s a serious offense.”

“I prefer to keep my blaster with me,” he replied in a cool voice. She glanced at Vetch, saw him swallow, and then nodded her head, feeling sick. Black Leather was trouble. She had sensed that from the start, why hadn’t she trusted her instincts? Damn men.

“All right, then,” she said, trying to smile. “I’ll leave you to your drinks.”

This time there was no hint of a swing in her step as she walked away. She ignored the wave they gave her at another table, walked right past the bar and down the hallway to the ladies’ fresher. It was a one-seater, and she locked the door behind her with carefully controlled movements. She turned to the basin and flicked her hand in front of the spout. Warm water poured out, and she shook her head in disgust.

“Cold,” she said shortly. Obediently, the temperature of the water changed. She splashed her face with it, leaned against the counter and sighed. She needed to let Manya know something was up with this guy. But would Manya be able to do anything about him? He wasn’t the kind of man to be dismissed lightly. If they just left him alone until he left, that might be safer for everyone. Only fools provoke predators, she reminded herself. Lay low and you’ll be fine.

6

Jerred’s Price

She stood there for a moment longer, then took a deep breath and opened the door.

He stood in the hallway opposite her. Waiting.

“I have to get back to work,” she said, trying to duck past him. He stepped forward, blocking her. She looked around nervously, hoping someone would see them, come to her rescue. There was no one.

“We’re going to talk,” he said shortly. He stepped forward again, backing her up against the door. She fumbled at the handle, damning whatever idiot had decided to install it so the door opened outward. Otherwise she might have just been able to duck back inside. Not that a door would stop him. She would just have to brazen him out.

“What can I do for you?” she asked brightly, trying to sound confident. Up close he was huge, much bigger than she’d realized before. Her head came to the middle of his chest. She could smell him. Male. A hint of something else, maybe the leather?

Something inside her uncurled and she felt a tingle between her legs. She was actually attracted to the man, she realized in disgust, despite the blaster. How had that happened?

“How much?” he asked shortly, breaking through her mental dialogue.

“What?”

“How much?” he asked, reaching one hand to her chin, tilting it up so that she looked into his face. His features were grim, strained. The gash of his scar twisted the skin along his left cheek, a dark-red tangle of rigid flesh.

“For what?” she asked, confused. “Look, I won’t tell anyone about the blaster.”

“You.”

She burst out in nervous laughter—this was just too surreal. Instantly his face grew colder, and she fell silent. She had provoked him far too much already.

“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong impression,” she said carefully, searching his face. “I’m a waitress, not a whore. I’m not for sale.”

“Really?” he asked, his mouth twisting. “That’s not what I saw.”

“Just because I flirt with a customer doesn’t mean that I’m selling myself,” she said softly, eyes darting down the corridor. Where the hell was everyone? “I’m allowed to flirt. I like flirting.”

“You carry yourself like a whore,” he said grimly. He reached between them, slipping his fingers into her cleavage and pulling the credit chit out. “I saw them giving you money. Do you think you’re too good for me? You’re not.”

She stiffened, feeling fury build up within her, overwhelming the fear that had been there seconds before.

“You have no right to speak to me like this.”

He smiled, the movement twisting the scar until he looked like a monster.

“I’ll pay extra,” he said smoothly, stepping closer. He angled his head in toward hers. “I’ve had to do it before. You can even keep your eyes closed so you don’t have to see me. Just tell me the price.”

7

Joanna Wylde

She shook her head, unsure what to say. He was dangerous and he was armed.

Anything might set him off.

“It has nothing to do with how you look,” she said finally. “I’m simply not in the market. Go to a pleasure house, they’ll take care of you there.”

“I want you.”

He caught her hand in his. She tried to pull away from him, but he was so much stronger she might have been an insect for all the good it did her. He pulled the hand down between them and pressed against his groin.

His cock pushed against his breeches, hard and ready. Reflexively she squeezed her fingers, and he gasped. He leaned forward against her, crushing her to the wall. She squeezed again and he moaned.

Panicked, she writhed against him, trying to escape.

“Don’t move,” he said between gritted teeth. “Not unless you want me to fuck you right here.”

Giselle froze.

After a moment he eased back, still holding her hand to his hard length. She could feel the heat of his arousal coming off in waves. To her disgust, she was responding.

Her legs tingled and she held back a shiver.

“How much?” he asked again, his voice hoarse.

“I’m not for sale,” she whispered. “You have to believe that.”

“Everyone is for sale,” he said. “It’s just a matter of finding the right price.”

His eyes held hers for a moment; she was transfixed. Then he eased back from her, releasing her hand. She drew it back, wiping it against her apron reflexively. He propped one arm up against the wall, imprisoning her just as effectively as before.

“I’m staying at the Pleasance Hostel with Vetch,” he said slowly. “He’s going off-station tonight, but I’ll be here another two cycles at least.” He lifted one hand between them and reached into her cleavage, slowly sliding his fingers back down between her breasts. His fingers caressed the gentle slopes. Why had she worn such a low-cut, tight blouse? Why had she pulled it down so far? His gaze burned through her with an intensity beyond bearing. She closed her own eyes, denying him that window into her soul.

She felt him lean forward, and he whispered in her ear.

“Take this,” he said, his warm breath sending shivers through her. She felt his fingers brush something scratchy against her soft skin. He’d put something in there, where the credit chit had been. “And think about your price. I’m prepared to pay it.”

She remained still, frozen with eyes closed for another moment. She felt the heat of him pull away, heard him walk slowly down the hall. She counted to thirty, took a deep breath and opened her eyes again.

8

Jerred’s Price

It was as if nothing had happened. She could hear the distant sounds of the bar, hear people laughing. She walked slowly back into the open, eyes immediately turning toward the table where he and Vetch had sat. It was empty.