Space Wrangler (24 page)

“Gabby?”

“Everyone says how nice she is. And you can order her to come back from the surface right away, can't you? Even if we have to postpone for a day or two for her to get up here—”

“Nice try,” he growled. “But the wedding happens as planned. Luckily, Gabby was due back this morning. She's probably at her desk by now, so…” He seemed almost pleased at the thought. “If you want a beautiful wedding video, she's your girl.”

Alexia rolled her eyes and paid for it with a sharp pain. “Ow!”

He almost laughed at that. “She can find you a dress too. Probably not what you have in mind, since we've never had a wedding on D-side. But something reasonably nice.”

“I'd love if she could help me with my hair too. And makeup. So I don't look like Bride of Cyclops.”

His wary expression returned. “You're actually going along with this?”

“You want a son to remind you of Trent. David wants a Sea-Mont grandson. Is it so hard to believe I want that baby too? The baby I always dreamed of having? The sons, the daughters…” She dared to touch his jaw. “I wish it wasn't happening this way. And I honestly don't know if things can ever be right between us. But we can try. And we can make beautiful babies together, and raise them with love. I've always known that. And I think it's what Dad and Trent would have wanted.”

“Don't con me, Alexia,” he warned.

“I'm not conning
you.
I'm conning myself. So just go along with it, please?”

He cleared his throat again, then hefted her mesh duffel bag off the bed and said gruffly, “Let's get out of this dump. And
no tricks
. Or I'll hand you over to Belker.”

The pain in her eye socket returned more quickly than expected, and she wanted to pop one of the pain pills Dr. Meg had given her for the fake D-side poisoning, but she needed all her wits and smarts if she hoped to get off the platform alive. So she insisted to TJ, and to herself as well, that she couldn't rest until the wedding plans had been perfected.

He remained suspicious, but didn't really protest. And so with the sadistic enforcer trailing a few feet behind them, they made their way to the Sea-Mont building to find Gabrielle Rousseau. Alexia knew she was taking a chance trusting this stranger, especially given TJ's statement to David that they could trust her to cover up their wrongdoings. The bio-girls had painted TJ's ex as slavishly devoted to the guy, almost pathetic in her loyalty when one considered how he had thrown her over. But at the same time, everyone praised “Gabby” for her intelligence and good humor. And of course, for her beauty.

It all made for an unlikely co-conspirator. But Rick had vouched for her, and at this moment, Rick was the only person in the known universe Alexia could trust. He had been so sure the communications director could get a message to Zeke Angelus, with whom she was supposedly having sex. Surely TJ didn't know about the affair, and thus, it seemed Gabrielle could keep a good-sized secret from her boss despite her claims of undying devotion.

Plus, she was the only game in town. If Alexia had more time, she'd try to get a message to the smugglers—or to Rick himself—in a different way. But it was almost ten o'clock, and she needed to take this chance. If it didn't work, she'd try Plan B—throwing herself on TJ's mercy, begging him to remember his love for Trent, his hatred for David. She actually hadn't tried begging or pleading, shaming or crying, or at least, hadn't pulled out the stops.

But from what she'd seen of the new TJ, it probably wouldn't work anyway.

Everyone they met along the way wanted to reminisce about last night's memorial-turned-celebration, but Alexia had donned dark glasses and insisted she had a brutal hangover. TJ seemed pleased that she didn't scream “help!” or even “rape”. Maybe he hadn't yet thought it through to that extent. She was cooperating, getting into the wedding details, even talking about children. But had it occurred to him that at some point, if she didn't cooperate, he'd have to force himself on her?

She tried not to think about his earlier statement: “I thought we'd have to drug you.”

Lovely.

Still, he had been referring to the ceremony, hadn't he? Nothing sexual, at least, not the first night. On the other hand, she didn't actually know this monster-in-training, so she had to be ready for Plan C, which basically consisted of hitting him over the head with a bottle of Cointreau and running for her life.

“Aren't you curious how I found out you were screwing Rick?” he asked as they approached the Sea-Mont building.

Startled, and feeling guilty despite the absurdity of it, she murmured, “Does it matter? I mean, obviously it matters. But…” She exhaled in defeat. “Okay, tell me. How did you find out?”

TJ's tone grew melancholy. “I've had evidence for a while that he's been selling bio-metal on the black market, but of course I didn't believe it.”

“He'd never do that.”

“Spoken like a woman in love,” he drawled. Then he admitted, “I had the same reaction. That he was better than that. But just to be sure, I got the ops team to track him. To see if he really went to Sector Fourteen. They keep records of everyone's whereabouts using the chip in the pulse bands. And guess what?” His voice lowered ominously. “The records are monthly, so even though I only asked about the past twelve days, they went back another week. I was tired, and really just skimming, so I glanced at the entire month. And a familiar set of coordinates jumped out at me. Dad's penthouse, to be precise.”

“We didn't plan it—”

“Would you kindly shut the fuck up?” He gave an angry chuckle. “When Dad's here, I track him for my own protection, so I have those coordinates memorized. And if Rick had just visited you for an hour, or even two, I would have assumed he was checking on your headache. Remember
that
? The one that kept you from sleeping with
me
?”

She gripped his arm. “You have every right to be furious. I lied about the headache as a strategy. So I wouldn't give you what you wanted before I got access to the sentient. But it didn't have anything to do with Rick—”

“It had
everything
to do with him,” TJ roared, moving in so close she could feel his hot breath on her aching face.

“You're wrong.” She took off her glasses and stared into his eyes. “The headache was strategy. Nothing more, nothing less. And when Rick stopped by later, well—that was something else. It didn't have anything to do with you. It was all about…”

“Love?”

“No. That was the last thing I needed. And the last thing he needed, to be honest. We felt an attraction. We didn't want it to fester. So we dealt with it. Lust, not love.”

She held her breath, praying TJ would hear the sincerity in her voice. It was true, wasn't it? Rick had made his intentions, or lack thereof, clear:
No matter what, I'm leaving you in the morning.

And she had echoed that sentiment, assuring him:
No matter what, I'm sleeping with TJ after you leave.

Oddly enough, she had believed it at the time, only realizing after he left that morning that she wouldn't be able to sleep with TJ now, much less marry him. Telling Rick about her change of heart would have been cruel. Telling TJ would have been crueler. But for herself? She had been honest.

And look where it had gotten her. She was a prisoner with no hope of rescue except from a smuggler she had never actually met. And her path to that smuggler? A woman whose ultimate loyalty belonged to the bad guys.

By the time they arrived at the communications department on the fourth floor, she was second-guessing her plan, and probably would have turned back had TJ not been such a willing participant. He even instructed the ever-present Belker, “Stay out here in the hall. And guard Alexia's bag.” Dropping the mesh duffle to the ground, he added, “I'll call you if I need you.”

“Mr. Seaton ordered me to stick close, so that's what I'm gonna do,” the enforcer told him with a disrespectful snarl.

“If you arouse suspicion by sticking
too
close, you'll ruin everything. When that happens, you'll lose my father's support, and a fucking mob will tear you limb from limb. They all hate you, you fucking asshole. And so do I. So stay in the fucking hallway. And guard the fucking bag.”

Alexia turned away, glad for her dark glasses. If her eyes were twinkling it would set Belker off for sure.

TJ took her by the arm and led her to the threshold, then paused to remind her, “No tricks. I know what you think. That I won't let Dad hurt you. But it's you or me at this point, and I intend to survive.”

“But if I cooperate you'll protect me? And we'll make the best of it?”

He nodded curtly, then ushered her into “communications”, where all eyes turned in their direction. A handful of workers sat in cubicles in the center of the giant room with a row of window offices along one edge. Every cubicle had an oversized monitor, with one additional, gigantic screen dominating the far wall within view of everyone, showing a complex, ever-changing grid of green, yellow and red lines.

Alexia had met each and every one of these folks during interviews and again at Jamie's memorial. They smiled at her. Some even grinned as though they shared a secret. And then an unfamiliar person appeared in an office doorway. She was tall and shapely and had thick ash-blonde hair pulled into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. She wore a prim expression, a pleated white skirt, and a scrumptiously soft and fuzzy pink sweater.

Alexia recognized her instinctively, or rather, remembered her “type' from the silly porn videos she had watched with Barbary. Busty, innocent, occasionally slutty.

The Naughty Librarian.

At any other time, she would have burst out laughing. But this morning, all she did was stare, completely impressed.

And Gabrielle Rousseau seemed to have a similar reaction, hurrying over to them and exclaiming. “You're Alexia! I've always wanted to meet you.”

“I've heard a lot about you too.”

“Really?” The blonde's forehead creased. “Are you hurt? What's wrong with your eye?”

“She's fine,” TJ muttered. “Just a minor accident.”

Alexia intervened. “We got drunk last night at the memorial, and I tripped over a bench on the way home. It looks worse than it is.”

TJ sent her a grateful glance, but Gabrielle Rousseau didn't seem convinced. “Have you seen Dr. Meg?”

“Once too often,” Alexia drawled. “She gave me pain pills and I'm on the mend.”

Gabrielle turned her skeptical gaze to TJ, who said reassuringly, “Everything's fine. Great, in fact. Alexia and I are getting married, and we need your help getting the word out. Here and on E-side. Plus, Alexia wants you to be her bridesmaid, which entails some extra duties, or so I'm told. Can you handle that?”

When Gabrielle's face fell, Alexia wanted to give her a hug. It was so clear this woman had hoped TJ would realize his mistake and come to her on his knees. Which meant she really was as naïve as everyone portrayed her. And clearly as sweet and loving.

I'm so, so sorry, Gabrielle.

But the blonde recovered quickly, and pulled Alexia into a welcoming embrace. “This is such good news. Mr. Seaton has always loved you, you know. You can't believe how many stories he's told me about you and your brother. And about how he should have married you years ago.”

Alexia turned to TJ and asked softly, “Is that true?”

“Of course, darling. I thought you knew.”

She studied his face, certain she would finally see the beast recede, replaced by her old friend. But his eyes were so empty, so completely blank, he might as well have been a sociopath, devoid of human feelings.

“It's just the best news ever,” Gabrielle was insisting. Then she added in an efficient tone, “What can I do to make this happen?”

Chapter Sixteen

Gabrielle was a masochist. That much was clear. But there was so much more to her, and as Alexia listened to the chatter between CEO and communications director, she understood why everyone loved her. TJ surely did, at least in his own way. Rick had practically gushed about her. And Zeke Angelus—a criminal—had reportedly fallen for her too.

And Alexia wasn't far behind. The woman was so painfully unselfish, so freakishly willing to serve, she elicited both good and evil from the people she met. Alexia wanted to protect her. But she also wanted to exploit the hell out of her. Wanted to value her—put her on a pedestal—yet also use her for her own self-serving purposes. In that sense, she was like every other person, male or female, who had come into contact with “Gabby”.

Daunted, she listened as TJ explained the situation: TJ and Alexia were in love. They wanted to get married. They wanted to get married today at two o'clock. They didn't want to show disrespect to Jamie's memory, so they wanted it to be private. But they also wanted it to be visually arresting. Because they intended to record it for posterity.

“Two o'clock?” Gabrielle's teal-green eyes clouded. “That means we're limited on the flowers we can get.”

Alexia wanted to assure her flowers were the least of their problems, but instead she said helpfully, “There were white roses at Jamie's party yesterday.”

“Poor Jamie. She was the nicest person this side of the sinkhole. But at least the memorial was beautiful, right? Everyone's still buzzing about it, Alexia. They love you for giving them hope. You're an inspiration to all of us.”

“Right.” Alexia exhaled sharply. “So what about the flowers?” Before Gabrielle could answer, she asked carefully, “Shouldn't you be making a list?”

If her maid of honor had simply agreed, that would have been fine. But instead, she quirked a no-nonsense eyebrow and exclaimed, “We have so much to do! Two o'clock just isn't enough time.” Turning to TJ, she insisted, “Give me a few days and it'll be perfect.”

“Two o'clock. That's what Dad wants. And so do I.”

“Oh…” Gabrielle nodded. “I heard he was here. That's weird, right? Two visits within four months of each other? But he couldn't miss the wedding, I suppose.”

“Exactly,” Alexia interjected. “David doesn't want to stick around any longer than necessary. So we need to stay on schedule. Flowers. Wedding dress. An excellent vid photographer.”

The blonde smiled. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue? I'm on it, Alexia. But it's all in the details, right? So let's move to my office and we can start making those lists.”

Gabrielle's office had a huge window overlooking the platform but was otherwise impersonal and efficient. No photos on the desk or walls, just credentials in black frames. TJ took the seat closest to the door, as though already planning his escape, while Alexia chose a hard-backed chair directly across from the communications director.

“I'm a fan of traditional gowns,” Gabrielle began. “Is that what you want, Alexia?”

“Can we find one up here?”

The blonde grinned. “Haven't you seen the bio-girls' costume racks? You can have anything you want. Formal, casual, skanky. Roman toga, belly dancer, Egyptian princess. They've got it all.”

TJ seemed annoyed. “You're saying they have actual wedding dresses? I'm not sure I approve. We don't want to set up unreasonable expectations.”

Gabrielle giggled. “Didn't that ship sail with the Egyptian princess outfit?” Sobering, she murmured, “No one expects to have a real wedding up here. You've always made that clear, and we all understood. But we understand this exception too. Because you and Alexia? That's fate, right?”

“Yes. It's fate.”

Alexia's heart ached more than her eye as she watched Gabrielle cater to TJ. What had he been thinking when he dumped this gorgeous mess?

The masochist continued to prove her worth by pulling up a list on her computer monitor. “Six types of flowers are currently available in the platform greenhouse. Dozens more can be transited from E-side within twenty-four hours, but since we're talking two o'clock, you're stuck with the local stuff. Which means white roses, violets, daffodils and three shades of chrysanthemums. Whatever you choose, I'd like to coordinate your nail color and jewelry with it, so we've got a lot of work to do.”

TJ's eyes glazed over. “Is this going to take long? I need to make some calls.”

“We'll be done in a jiffy,” Gabrielle promised, opening two additional soft screens to float alongside the computer's built-in. “It's ten-thirty now. If we make our decisions by eleven, I can do the rest.”

“How many decisions
are
there?” he groaned.

“How often does a man get married?” Gabby sniffed. “You can make calls from that cubicle over there if it's an emergency, but don't go too far. We'll need to consult with you, right, Alexia?”

Alexia's pulse quickened. She might just be imagining it, but it seemed like her new friend was trying to get rid of TJ. It wasn't definite, but still, she wanted to help so she gave him a sour wince. “You're not going to stick me with all these decisions, are you?”

He seemed cowed. Almost guilty. “I'll be right over there. Less than ten feet away. Just handle the basics on your own, and if you need me, just holler.”

Once TJ was out of earshot, Gabrielle's entire attitude shifted and she whispered, “What really happened to your eye? Did TJ do it? I'm dying, Alexia. He's usually so gentle.”

“He didn't hit me,” Alexia murmured.

“Well, someone did. Was it his father? Or one of his goons? Tell me what's going on.”

“It's a mess,” she admitted. “David is basically forcing me to marry TJ. And TJ's going along with it.”

“How can they force you?” Gabby asked, frowning. “I mean, they can pressure you, obviously. And charge you with trespass. Maybe even espionage. And they can convict you too. The hearings always go David's way. There's a reason he calls himself the executioner,” she added dryly, “but the most he's ever done is incarcerate a few guys, and just for a month or two.” She flashed a reassuring smile. “And in your case, I doubt the Earth authorities would allow even that much. A Montoya? They'd make him send you home for another, fairer trial.”

“That would be fine,” Alexia murmured. “Except David assures me I'd die in the sinkhole.”

“
What?
” Gabby covered for her gaffe by pretending to be offended, saying loudly, “There
has
to be a wedding ring. Honestly, TJ. What are you thinking?”

He shrugged from a distance. “She can have my college ring for now. We'll come up with something better later.”

Gabby seemed about to argue, then just said, “As long as Alexia agrees, I guess.”

TJ arched an eyebrow in Alexia's direction, and she dutifully murmured, “You were wearing that ring the day we first met. When you came to the house for dinner. It's perfect.”

“Oh, that's so romantic,” Gabby said with a sigh.

As soon as TJ turned his attention back to his pulse screen, Alexia lowered her voice. “David threatened to kill me for sure. And he could probably arrange it, right? Maybe plant an explosive device in my transit capsule?”

“It would be even easier than that,” Gabby admitted. “He could fake your transit completely. We control the records for both platforms. So he wouldn't need to send a capsule through. Just get rid of your body and falsify the records.” She shuddered. “If they've done it before, they didn't involve me, I swear. I'd do almost anything for TJ, but not that. And he'd never ask me to.” She shook her head. “He's so different when David is here, but still…”

“Do you think he'd do the right thing if I challenged David?”

“Don't do
that
. We'll figure something else out. I promise.”

Alexia nodded, encouraged by the steely look on the formerly docile face. “David would love to kill me, but he has stars in his eyes at the prospect of a grandson, especially one with Montoya brains. And TJ promised we'd produce one. So I guess you could say TJ saved me for the moment. But unless I'm willing to give them my first-born child, I need to get off this platform before two o'clock. And to do that…” She exhaled sharply. “I need to get a message to Zeke Angelus. Is it true you're involved with him?”

Gabrielle's eyes widened. “Who told you that?”

“Rick Gage.”

“Does TJ know?”

“I don't think so.”

“Whew.” Gabby raised her voice, calling out, “TJ? How about pink carnations and blue violets?”

“Sounds good,” he called back, audibly bored.

“Do you want Alexia to wear her hair up? Or loose?”

“I don't care,” he growled. “Just do what you want.”

Gabby beamed at him, then lowered her voice again. “I can get a message to Zeke. I just wish we didn't need to deceive TJ. He deserves better.”

“Except he's so different these days,” Alexia said sadly. “So cold. And I made it worse, trust me. I had a brief, one-night affair with Rick, and when he found out about it, it drove him over the edge. Didn't you notice the look in his eyes?”

“He's different when his father's on this side of the sinkhole,” Gabby explained. “That's why we broke up, you know. He couldn't stand up to David. Wouldn't defend me or even try.”

“I figured it was something like that.”

Gabby's eyes shone with sympathy. “He wants David's approval so bad. Can you imagine how cruel his childhood must have been?”

When Alexia arched an eyebrow, the sympathetic blonde nodded. “You're right, this is extreme, even for him. I'm just saying it's not his fault. His father drove him to it. And he's been in love with you for years. So the idea of marrying you must be fueling this too.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it was never about love. Maybe he's not even capable of those feelings. Because of David,” she added hastily. “I agree with you about that. I don't blame TJ, but I can't forgive him for this. You're more forgiving than I am. The way he treated you…”

“He never lied to me about marriage. But we had a good relationship. Except when David was around.” The blonde grimaced. “Always calling me ‘the bimbo'. Or worse,
bio
bimbo. And of course, whore, bitch, airhead, et cetera.”

“I'm so sorry, Gabby,” Alexia told her, reaching for her hand.

The blonde gave a conspiratorial smile. “Now I can get back at him.”

“I hate involving you and Captain Angelus,” she mused. Then she licked her lips, a new idea forming. “You said you heard about the memorial party. It was kind of remarkable, really. Everyone rallied. Like a groundswell of support. Fists pumping in the air, chanting—the works. Don't you suppose, if I just ran out in the middle of the platform and screamed that I was being kidnapped—”

“
Don't
do that,” Gabby interrupted her, a hint of panic in her whisper. “They'd want to help. But they're all prisoners too, can't you see that?”

“What?”

“David owns them. Not just financially, although he controls them with threats of pulling their bonuses, even their base pay. But worse than that, Sea-Mont controls the sinkhole. They literally cannot get home without David's help.” Her teal eyes misted as she repeated, “They'd want to help, but they can't.”

Alexia stared in dismay. “I never thought of it like that.”

“That's why you need Zeke. He comes and goes as he pleases. Makes a living
thwarting
Sea-Mont, not beholden to it.” Drawing a deep breath, the blonde laughed loudly and pointed to the nearest soft screen. “On to my favorite subject—shoes! White, tan, pink? What size do you wear? And meanwhile…” She rolled her chair so that her back was to TJ, then she reached under her sweater and pulled out a chain with a glassy red bauble hanging from it. “Zeke gave me this signaling device. It's how I get in touch with him. Watch.” She squeezed the jewel and it flashed once, then went dormant. “If he's within range, he'll be here. Really quickly.”

“Sounds like true love.”

“Hardly. This signal means I'm available for sex, and trust me, he's voracious.” She laughed lightly. “But he's a sweetheart, so don't worry. He'll take good care of you.”

Alexia smiled in relief. “I'm so grateful. To both of you.”

“You should have heard him brag about smuggling you in. It was such an honor that you chose
his
crew for that. He's not going to let anyone hurt you. Or at least, not again.” She let out a sigh, then raised her voice, exclaiming, “You can't wear a blue dress, Alexia! Not with violets. TJ? Help me out here.”

TJ rolled his chair a few feet toward them, just enough to say, “Listen to Gabby. She always looks great.”

“And I don't?” Alexia muttered. “Luckily, we're done for the moment. But we'll need to re-group at Gabby's place in an hour or so. That'll give her time to make the arrangements. And while she's doing that, I can pop a pain pill and get some rest. Okay?”

“Works for me,” TJ agreed, jumping to his feet before they could change their minds. “Except Gabby can bring the dress to my place. Or should I say,
our
place?”

Gabby interrupted, her tone brisk. “I'll be dragging armloads of dresses and zillions of shoes from the costume room. Won't the guard get impatient?” Before he could answer, she went on, her manner increasingly harried. “And I'll need to highlight
my
hair while I'm doing everything else. Can't I just use my apartment as the staging area? I can set up a manicure station for both of us, and do Alexia's hair while you taste some cake samples. And I need to choose
my
dress too. And—”