Stripper: The Fringe, Book 4 (14 page)

“I’m sorry to be curt, but I need to talk to Michael.”

Dead silence followed his request, and the only thing visible was the bottom of Mary’s boots.

“Please.”

Mary took her feet off the op-pan so now Duster could see her entire face. “Was that so difficult?”

“No.”

“See? Manners are a good thing. Funny, though—Michael said you went to a stripper. What’re you doing calling?”

“I didn’t get stripped. I changed my mind. I want to come home.”

“Don’t think so, Duster. Security risk, you know?” Mary sipped from her glass of bright juice as she casually flicked her gaze off-camera.

“Let me talk to Michael.”

“He’s busy.” Now her voice was curt and cutting. “He trusts his new head of security to address matters like this.”

“You?”

“Yeah-huh.” Mary smiled. “How does it feel to be on the receiving end, Duster?”

Judging by her nasty tone, it felt damn good to her. Duster couldn’t blame her. He’d sure enough ground her face in it when he’d held her position. “If you’re doing this out of petty revenge, that’s fine. I’m not looking for my job back.” Duster took a calming breath. “Get Michael.”

Mary twirled her chair around in bored circles. “See? Hurried people are rude people.” After a few more turns, Mary propped her feet back up on the desk, giving him a solid view of her scuffed-up soles. “Stop giving me orders, Duster. I don’t like it. Didn’t like it when you lived here, but I had to deal with it. Thing is, I don’t have to put up with it now. One flip of my finger, and you go bye-bye.” Mary moved her feet out of the way, waved her fingers at him, then put her feet back. “You be real careful, ’cause I can also make your entire quadrant of space a deadzone.”

Duster swallowed down an urge to yell at her. If he started in on her, she’d just cut the link. Or worse. Nothing like having the boot on the other foot. Mary seemed determined to plant the boot firmly up his backside. Never in his wildest nightmares would he have imagined himself pleading with Mary.

Keeping his son and wife in mind, Duster said, “I apologize. I’m not trying to give you orders. I need your help. Please.”

Duster could tell when Mary’s heart softened because her feet slumped. She didn’t make a very good bully. Given her past, it wasn’t much wonder. Mary had been bullied endlessly by the villagers of her hometown of Pine Glenn.

“Why should I help you?”

“Remember when you stole
Whisper
? I made sure you had enough time to get away before I awoke Michael.” Of course, he’d wanted her to escape to
protect
Michael, but Mary didn’t have to know that. “I’m not saying you owe me—”

“Are too. And you’re right. I sure enough do.” She sighed as she lowered her feet from the op-pan. “Thing is, I’m walking in your shoes now. I grasp why you treated me the way you did. All hostile and suspicious. Don’t know what happened to you out there. Scanners indicate you’re in a courtesan ship. Taken up being a whore?” A funny little grin split her lips as her eyebrows rose.

“Hardly.” Duster laughed. “Only ship I could get my hands on.”

Mary flicked her gaze to something off-screen. “I’m also reading two other people on that ship ’sides you. Have you taken up hanging out with whores?”

“No.”

“How do I know you aren’t being held hostage?”

“Do I look like I have a gun to my head?”

“No.” She considered. “Looks like you’re missing a shirt, though. Hey, don’t stand up unless you got pants on.”

Duster laughed. “Least I’m not wearing a fluffy blue robe like what Michael suffered at your hands.”

Mary snickered. “I thought he looked right pretty.”

“It barely covered his ass.” Duster chuckled. “I’m mostly dressed and fully in command of this ship. I have my wife and my son onboard. That’s why I need your help.”

Blinking rapidly, Mary tried to assimilate this information as she took a nonchalant sip of her juice. More and more she reminded him of Michael, who often used a drink as a prop when he conversed with people.

“I’m grasping the wife part, that’s easy enough to do, but in, what? A week? You had a kid? Explain to me how in the Void
that
can happen. I’m no expert, but far as I know, that still takes nine months.”

“It’s a long story.”

Leaning back with a sigh, Mary took another casual sip of bright orange juice. “Got all the time in the Void.”

Gritting his teeth, Duster fought down his vexation. “Met her seven years ago. Didn’t know until recently we have a six-year-old son. I need to keep them safe. Windmere is the only place where I can do that.”

Mary rolled her eyes and leaned forward with visible displeasure. “That’s your idea of a long story?” She set her drink aside. “You left out all the good parts.” Pursing her lips, Mary considered. “Hang tight.”

She left the screen, and Duster waited. And waited. Tapping his hands impatiently on his leg, he wished for a big bag of fresh crackleseeds to munch on. Obviously, he’d picked the wrong time to quit. When Mary came back, his tension level caused him to be practically smacking his own thigh. He stopped when he saw her face.

With lowered brows and her head tilted down, Mary uttered a long sigh as she settled back into the chair. “Michael won’t talk to you.”

“What?” Duster had expected almost any response but that.

“Says he knows who your wife is. He says if you dump her off the ship, he’ll let you and your son land.” Mary bit her lip as she met Duster’s eyes over the audvid. “If you try to land with her onboard, he’s ordered me to—to—”

“Blow my ship out of the sky,” Duster finished for her.

“Yeah.” A lone tear clung to the edge of her lashes, then tumbled down. Embarrassed, Mary wiped it away with her fist, then turned away as if she were checking another op-pan. “Why does he hate her that much? What did she do?”

Duster hissed a sharp expletive.

“I don’t think that’s what she did, Duster. Far as I know, that wipes off.” Mary faced him and tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Soon as I started to give him the gist of it, he started ranting and raving and pacing back and forth. Wouldn’t tell me why. When I pushed, he turned all that venom on me.”

Duster thought that explained why Mary was on the verge of tears. Michael in the full of his flaming anger wasn’t a sight to be welcomed. He had a tendency to spout out and apologize later. “Diane has a history with Michael. She betrayed him.”

“Then what the hell possessed you to even think of bringing her here?”

“Because I built that goddamned world. I have a right to live on Windmere, and I want my wife and son with me.”

“Even if I let you land, he’ll kill her.”

“He owes me.” After everything Duster had done for Michael, even if he gave in on this one thing, which was a big one, they still would be nowhere near even. Michael was so far in Duster’s debt they likely never would be square.

“Don’t think he’s seeing it that way.” Mary rubbed her eyes. “You know how he is.”

“Mary, I can’t turn back. This ship doesn’t have much of a range. If I don’t land and at least refuel, I’m dead in the Void.” What the hell had he been thinking? He’d locked them into this course of action without fully considering what was likely to happen. Duster hadn’t had so much as an inkling that Michael would pull a stunt like this on him.

“You think if I tell him that he’ll change his mind? Given his current attitude, I’m thinking he’ll say, ‘Really?’ with a nasty smirk, and then applaud.”

Racking his brain for a solution, Duster finally begged, “Help me, Mary. Please. I helped you once.”

“You want me to betray my husband?” She laughed without mirth as pain flashed across her face. “The irony of it all. You didn’t trust me because you thought I would betray him. Now you’re asking me to do the very thing—”

“I know.” He was asking Mary to do the very thing he suspected she would do, the very thing he refused to forgive Diane for. Was the universe just punishing him for not letting go of his anger and honestly trying with Diane? Duster realized the idea of betrayal wasn’t so black-and-white.

Taking a deep breath, Duster ran several scenarios through his mind. What if he threatened Michael? Duster knew enough about Windmere’s security to single-handedly lead an invasion. Unfortunately, he would have to lead an invasion of IWOG scum. The thought alone made him sick. As soon as he thought it, he discounted it. Michael would just send a contingent out to his ship and take him down before he could ever get anywhere. Not that he could with his fuel level. He checked the local chart again. Windmere or nothing.

“Tell him this.” Duster settled himself in the pilot’s chair more forcefully. “I’m landing my ship. If he wants to kill me, my wife and an innocent child, tell him to go ahead. If he can live with himself after that, then he should rename his planet Massive Bastard. Michael owes me. He knows it. I’m not asking for his help; I’m demanding it.”

Mary laughed. Not maliciously but with respect. “You’ve got a set on you that must be made of durosteel.”

“Michael
owes
me.”

“I know that.” All her bright-eyed chipperness was gone. Now Mary looked ready for a month-long vacation.

“Help me, Mary.”

“You know what’s funny? One of the first things Michael did after you left was rename this ball of rock Prime Bastard.”

“What?”

“The name Windmere was stricken from everything like a vulgar word. Now I know why.” Mary smiled at him over the com link. “You named it Windmere, not him.”

“I can’t believe he changed the name back.” Finding out hurt in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Massive Bastard, Prime Bastard, we both know who the bastard is.” Mary sounded as tired as she looked.

Duster didn’t say anything.

“Still, you think getting into a pissing match with him is a good idea?” Mary leaned close to the com. “I know he can piss a lot longer, harder and farther than you. Such a contest is over long before it even gets going. Face it, Michael has way more firepower than you do.” Mary shook her head. “Even if I wanted to help you, and that’s a big if, all Michael has to do is toss me into lockdown. Wouldn’t be able to lift a finger to help myself, let alone you.”

Mary obviously wanted to help, but there was only so much she could do. She knew as well as he did that Michael or any one of a thousand operatives could be actively listening to their exchange.

“Tell him that Diane could have given a clear sketch of his face to the IWOG. She didn’t. Diane had a very compelling reason for doing what she did.” Briefly, Duster explained that she was a member of Network Thirteen and why she’d left them alive but limping. “Her only other choice would have been to kill us both. And she could have. But she didn’t.”

“Because she loved you.”

Duster nodded.

“Just like me incapacitating Michael rather than killing him.”

Hope filled Duster that he’d sparked compassion in Mary to help him.

“I’ll tell him.” Mary nodded. “But honestly, Duster, given his snarly attitude, I don’t think he’ll listen.”

“An innocent six-year-old child is on this ship. Even Michael isn’t that ruthless of a bastard.”

Mary leaned into the com. “I’d like to agree with you, but we both know that isn’t true. He’s my husband, and I love him, but like I said just moments ago, Massive Bastard, Prime Bastard or even Ruthless Bastard—we both know who the bastard is. What’s worse is that you and I both know that Michael has no problem living up to those nasty nicknames.”

Chapter Ten

Diane had not been able to sleep. She lay in bed and caught herself biting her nails. Forcefully, she made herself stop. She hadn’t done that since she was a girl and didn’t want to start it up again, not when she forever told Scott not to do it. Instead, she tapped her fingertips against the bedcovers. The longer Duster spent checking the ship, the more agitated she became. “How long does it take to look at the sensors?”

Unless he found something.

Diane slid out of bed, grabbed her robe but stopped short of putting it on. She settled on the edge of the mattress. If trouble loomed, Duster would have told her so they could decide how best to protect Scott. After placing her robe on her bedside table, she moved back under the covers.

What was taking him so long?

A million fears ran through her mind. She thrust them all away. No point in making up things to worry over. Clutching a pillow, she held it tight, tapping her fingernail against her wedding band.

After almost an hour, Duster padded back into the room. Quietly, he removed his pants and slid into bed. Lying on his back, he glared at the ceiling.

“Is everything—”

“Go to sleep.” His voice was low but coldly cutting.

More annoyed by his tone than angry, she said, “We need to clear something up right now. I’m not going to be a wife who calmly accepts edicts from her husband. I’m not an idiot. If something is wrong, I have every right to know.”

“You want to know what’s going on?” Duster rolled until he faced her. Even in the semi-dark, she saw that fury twisted his features.