Necrotech (15 page)

“Now I know you're full of it,” I said. “What for?”

His smile tilted up to the ceiling. “'Cause.”

“
Jax
.”

His smile vanished. “Okay, killer. Indigo's been going around the past month telling everyone you got his virginal little sister fried.” His tone leveled. Not cool, not even remote. Just steady. Like he was reciting facts out of a book. There we go. Business mode. “Next thing I know, word on the wave is that you're back, minus one virginal little sister.”

“She was hardly virginal.”

I should have kept my goddamned mouth shut. “Yes,” he said, with all the relish of a man with experience on the subject. “I know. In fact, she used to do this thing–”

“Shut it,” I interjected, before I could be regaled with anything more.

So he'd gotten to Nanji before I did.

In the scheme of things, it didn't
really
matter, but the fact I'd put my lips where Jax's dick had been was only slightly more offensive than the fact I'd let him dick
me
over a few times, too. Literally and metaphorically.

Saints tended to become one great big incestuous fuckfest.
Ugh.

Nanji had never said anything to me. Probably smart. Conversations that included me and Jax in the same breath never ended well. “Do me a favor and get to the damn point, would you?”

He shrugged his wiry shoulders. “It's all information, sugartits. You're into something big and bad, I can help. You want it or not?”

I refrained from knocking a few of those nice white teeth out for the name. It was only one in a long list.

Turning my back, I cranked the regulator until Lucky's illegal tank kicked in, and boiling hot water sluiced from the faucet. I let it cascade over the two mugs and syringe. A cloud of steam enveloped me.

“Aw. You're so domestic, Riko.” I didn't have to see his face to know he was grinning again. “When are you going to settle down and have my beautiful black babies?”

I growled. “Ever been shoved face first into boiling water?”

“Not once.”

“Want to?”

“God, you're sexy,” was his response. I bared my teeth. “Last offer on the help.”

And that was the pretty much the shittiest offer I'd ever been handed. Not because I'd been handed it, but because I didn't have much choice. My cred demanded I find answers. The loss of it made it a life or death situation. When a runner like me tanks on reputation, lesser mercs start gunning for her. Some out of a need to prove themselves against someone who'd once been untouchable, some because a merc doesn't get to be that badass without stepping on a few dicks along the way.

I'd rather avoid shootouts in the street. Especially when they're shooting at me, dicks or otherwise.

But if I accepted Jax's help, I'd all but confirm his suspicions. I may as well put a neon light on my ass claiming it as up for grabs.

Fuck me. Life was so much simpler when I could just kick a man in the teeth and be done with it.

“What's the cost?” I asked without turning.

His voice hadn't shifted from his claimed corner, so he was respecting boundaries this time. “A favor, to be named when I need it. No questions.”

“That's a big damn cost.” But I was definitely thinking about it. One favor. In exchange, I'd get Jax's resources on the bandwidth, which could turn up nothing or everything. Or something in between. I was flying blind already. And for all his attitude, he wasn't in the business of screwing around with facts. He knew what he knew, and when he said he'd help, he meant it.

The name Taylor Jax had more cred on it than almost anyone else I knew, save maybe Lucky's. I ran with an elite cunting crowd.

But this brought up a whole new concern. “Why help at all, Jax?”

“Let's just say I'm keeping an eye on my bank.”

He didn't mean a financial institution. Of all the things projectors dealt with, financial worries wasn't one of them. When the system works on a digital level, 'jectors tend to be rolling in credits. And cred. Lucky, suicidal bastards.

I shot him a look over my shoulder, but his face told me nothing. “Are you prepping something big?”

“Not yet.” His eyebrows rose and lowered, salacious inquiry. “But I can't have cops luring you over to the forces of good before I'm ready to make an offer myself.”

There it was. I turned. My tech hand clanked on the sink, fingers curving over it. I didn't pinch the metal, but the act sent a throbbing pulse through my brain.

Damn, it hurt.

My shoulder twitched. “You better not be monitoring me.” I stopped shy of a serious threat. Regardless of our history, neither of us had ever really crossed that line. I wasn't sure what would happen if we did. I could take him on in meatspace, but I'd lose on the bandwidth. Lose
hard
. If we ever became enemies for real, I'd get one chance – provided he was in front of me when the gloves came off.

These are the things a saint thinks about. Where to run, where the exits are, and how much time it'd take to reach them. What tech to risk and how best to maximize a killing edge. How to win a hypothetical fight with a buddy, because that buddy could sell you out tomorrow. I barely even noticed it anymore. Survival was king.

Jax's smile upped about a thousand watts. “Relax, kitten. I was actually stalking
him
.”

That earned him a blank stare. “Detective Douchedick? Why?”

He shrugged easily, a fluid line of red on black. If the name caught him by surprise, he didn't show it. “Investments.”

Easily translated. In short, Greg hadn't made any secret of his financial difficulties, and Jax – maybe other saints – had clued in. I wondered how many fixers had paid for that information already.

And how many had sold it.

Damn. Well, that was life on the street. I couldn't do much for the detective now. If he wanted creds so badly, I hoped he was smart enough to know the good jobs from the bad.

Unlike me, who knew the difference but currently lacked the backing to get the good ones.

I sighed. “Stay off my freqs,” I told him. “I'm just starting to like you again.”

“Does that mean you're interested?”

I let go of the sink. “In your offer of help, yeah,” I replied evenly. “But you can keep your babies to yourself, whatever color they are.”

That smile flashed again. “I'll be in touch for that favor. How long are you staying here?”

“I'm leaving soon as I rep up some clothes.”

“That explains it.” Jax ran a hand over his dreads, pulling them over his shoulder the way a girl would to catch a man's attention. It wasn't quite the same with Jax. He just really liked his hair. I did, too, but I also recognized exactly what kind of leverage it gave me in a fight.

“What?” I asked, frowning.

“Lucky kicked you out.”

I briefly thought about arguing, but then I realized his green eyes weren't looking at me. He'd seen the note.

Of course he'd seen it. Nosy bastard. “So?”

“Well, that's some shit right there.” With his hair arranged, he ran both hands into his dreadlocks, scratching at his scalp. It lifted the hem of his tanktop, bared a flat, muscled expanse of belly. “Hate to say it, but there's a few flags flapping out there.”

“‘Course there are,” I said wryly, then stilled. “Wait.” I glared at him. “Did you just bargain with me when you
already
have info?”

“Sort of.” He tilted his head, lazily studying me from half-lidded eyes. “More like a lead. And I'm willing to part with it. Call it an advance on what I'm thinking is an ongoing problem of epic proportions. In good faith.”

Great. “Why?”

He hesitated. Then, with another one of those lazy shrugs, he replied, “People don't vanish, Riko. Even when they get themselves splattered, there's trace. Except then you went and actually
vanished
.”

“So you tracked me.”

His eyes banked, a trace of anger and more than a little intrigue as he studied me. “No, I tried. You went so far off-grid, it's like you stopped existing. Only thing I dug up is a little bit of info on a certain virginal little sister.”

“Stop calling her that,” I snapped, and turned my back on him to stab the screen on the hacked printer Lucky maintained. He'd know it when he came back, but regardless of everything else, he wouldn't begrudge me clothes.

“Indigo hired me to find her.” Jax's voice carried the verbal equivalent of a shrug. He didn't care. “Then when the bit surfaced of one Nanjali Koupra going up in chopshop flames, he hired me to find
you
. Is it true you sold her out?”

That was the kind of news I couldn't gloss over. “Wait. Back up.
Indigo
hired
you
?” My surprise shifted into abject disbelief. My lip curled. “You're making that up.” They hated each other. I'd never cared enough to know why, but the fact Jax had banged Digo's sister put some of that into clarity.

I hated feeling kinship with Jax. Ugh.

“Wish I was, sugartits.” Shoving the mass of his dreadlocks back over his shoulder, he shot me a look that didn't leave any room for amusement – easy or otherwise. “So did you sell her out?”

“No.” Maybe. I didn't fill in the blanks, but I didn't waste any breath explaining, either. Word got out fast when a 'jector got involved. “I didn't sell her out. I ended up in the same place she did, but they had me in some kind of stasis, I think, so I don't have any memories of the time. I woke up thinking I'd only missed a day.”

“Yeah, bullshit.” But that lash of determination wasn't aimed at me. I knew Jax well enough to get it. His pride was stinging. “You know I don't like unanswered questions.”

Fair enough. In the scheme of things, it was better to have Jax annoyed and on my side than annoyed and out to get me. “Fine,” I said. “I can respect that. What do you have for me?”

“Fuck It Jim.”

I blinked. Bukket Jehm was a fixer. A man who parceled out jobs for money, took on goods to sell on the market, and otherwise took care of the annoying details. He was a small man with a thin mustache, weasely enough to do the job but the least trustworthy among the established fixers. That's how he'd earned the moniker Fuck It Jim. It was easier to say
fuck it
than try.

Indigo didn't deal with him as a rule. Too much trouble.

“That guy's smeglevel,” I said, skeptical. “Why him?”

“'Cause he's up to his little spunked-up nose in your shit, that's why.”

Well, that made everything clearer. And so simple. “Okay.” I nodded, like it was no big. “I'm going to go kill him now.”

“Yeah, that might have flown
before
you started working with him.”

I froze, my finger hovering over the button that would start the printer. My stare landed on Jax with one part surprise, two parts mocking amusement, and enough teeth to make him raise his hands in a gesture of goodwill. “Bullshit,” I said clearly.

“Yeah, you can say that, but c'mon, Ree. We know. You and me?” His mouth curved in a humorless smile. “We
know
. And so do enough people who started wondering aloud what the fuck you were doing with a lowlife like Jim.”

Which now explained part of the hit my cred took. If I was rumored to be working with Fuck It Jim, my reputation would slide like a greased chromer spiked naked down an oil slick.

Fucking A, if
Lucky
got associated with that sniveling little anus wart, he'd lose work. No wonder he was so eager to get me the hell out.

Goddamn son of a bitch fixer and his little ratty fingers got all over my business.

“Only thing I can't work out,” Jax continued, watching me closely, “is what you were doing with him, but you won't tell me. So I'll figure it out.”

If he did, if he beat me to it, I'd be so boned.

But I couldn't very well admit to running around the city out of my mind since April. Even Jax knew that wasn't cool. Lucky may have cleared me of corruption, but that didn't change the fact that somehow, a whole chunk of time was missing from my brain.

Which meant – what if I
was
working with Jim?

“Fine,” I said, stabbing the button. The printer warmed up. “Why do you think Jim's the key?”

Jax's smile crinkled his gleaming eyes. “Because out of everyone you worked with, Riko, he's the only one
everyone
knows would screw you over.”

I grimaced. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Hey. I'm just a guy bringing you all the good faith data you need.” Jax kissed his fingers and flicked it my direction. “The rest is all you, pussy.” He said it like an endearment. I growled under my breath as he turned. “Oh.” He glanced back at me over his shoulder, which admittedly did nice things for the shape of the muscles there. “Can I offer some advice?”

“Can I stop you?”

His eyes twinkled in that good humor I knew was as much a front as his cosmetic appeal. “You don't have to kick the shit out of everyone in your hot pursuit. At least try to be cool.”

I scoffed. “Please. I only do that for losers and chumheads. I don't
have
to curb stomp people just for answers.”

“Yeah, sugartits. That's what I'm
saying.
” Jax left the kitchen before I could argue.

I shouted at his back, “In good faith, my ass!”

“Give me time.”

My recommendation of what he could do with his time followed him out of the chopshop. He was laughing when the door closed behind him.

Shit. Jax liked to think of me as one of his rivals, but he was weirdly protective of those rivals. If he'd come looking to help me, it meant there was something in it for him. As a 'jector, he was just as connected to the data wave as a fixer was, but he didn't farm out jobs. He just liked having information, even if he didn't know how it all came together.