Stripper: The Fringe, Book 4 (19 page)

Once the guards exited, Michael bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile. “Diane. After all this time.” Ever so casually, he lifted and sipped from a squat glass of amber liquid. “Don’t you think you owe me an apology?”

Hope surged through her that maybe it could be this easy; then painful reality filled her with apprehension. “I don’t think if I offered you an apology, you would accept it.”

“I might. If you make it compelling enough.” Michael’s voice rolled like far-off thunder, low and rumbling, like barely contained power that surged ever closer. Energy coiled around him and made the hair along her neck stiffen.

Swallowing a tight lump in her throat, keeping her son and Duster firmly in her mind, she didn’t care if she had to get down on her knees and beg. “I made a mistake seven years ago. I was young and thought I was doing the right thing. When I fell in love with Duster, I knew I couldn’t do what they wanted of me.”

“They?”

“Network Thirteen. They sent me on the
Damn You
to kill you both, and I couldn’t. I did the best I could to get everyone out alive.”

“Odd. I didn’t hear you say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Indeed.” Sipping from his glass, Michael deliberately dragged his gaze from her hair to her toes, then settled on her eyes. “How did Duster find you?”

“By accident. I’m a stripper. I didn’t know it was him; he didn’t know it was me.”

A quirky half grin lifted one edge of Michael’s mouth. “How interesting. Duster located you on my orders over a year ago. What fun we would have had if I had availed myself of your services.”

“Missed opportunities.”

“Not so much. Here you are.” He considered his glass. “You didn’t strip Duster, did you?”

“No.”

“I’ll bet he was happy to see you.”

“Not really.” Duster had said Michael dulled his ability with alcohol, and he was clearly drinking, but she didn’t want to take the risk of lying to him. Getting caught in a lie could get Duster or Scott killed. “Duster wanted his 7Mil back, so he took me prisoner.”

“He should have killed you and saved us all a lot of time and aggravation.” Michael spoke so casually it was as if he were suggesting Duster should change his shirt.

“Is that what you’re going to do with me?” As much as she didn’t want to know, knowing would lessen the almost hysterical pounding of her heart.

“I’m going to offer you a deal.”

Duster had warned her about this, Michael’s penchant for offering deals that were designed to twist someone into a horrible moral dilemma. Against her better judgment, she found herself asking, “What deal?”

“You get to choose. Who will it be, Diane? Scott or Duster?”

“For what?”

“Which one lives, which one dies.”

Horror shook her from the top of her head down to her bare feet. “You can’t seriously expect me to choose between my husband and my son.”

“I think I’m being extremely generous, giving you such a choice. Ah, yes, and if you refuse to choose, I will kill them both. While I make you watch. And then I will kill you.” He spoke with the calm air of a man discussing nothing more important than the weather. Never in her life had she met a man so ruthless and cruel.

“To punish me for what I did to you seven years ago, you’re willing to kill your best friend and his innocent child?” Repulsion made her want to run as far from him as she could get. Clearly, she remembered telling Duster that if he had to choose between her and Scott, he should always put Scott first. Now that she found herself facing such a choice, she couldn’t make it.

“I wouldn’t do it personally, of course. I don’t like to get my hands dirty.” Michael examined his right hand. From this distance, she saw that his hand was strong but not work-worn. Obviously, he was a man who used his brains and not his brawn. “But I have thousands of highly skilled operatives who would. Without batting an eyelash.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Granted.” He rose from his desk and refilled his drink from a bar hidden into the cabinets. “Would you like a drink?” He offered out the bottle. “It might settle your nerves and help you think about what you would like to do.”

“I would sooner have a drink with the devil himself than you.”

“From what I’ve been told, it’s pretty much the same thing.” Michael poured his glass to two fingers, then sauntered back to his desk.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

“Ever so much.” Settling himself back to the top of his desk, he lifted his glass to her. “Here’s to you, Diane. The lady with the power of life and death in her hands.”

“I’m not playing this sick game with you. Because I think, in the end, you’re going to kill me anyway. This is just a way to torture me before you do.”

“Torture?” Michael frowned as if he just now considered this possibility. “An interesting idea. What kind of torture would really destroy you? Perhaps watching your son being tortured, knowing you could stop it if you only offered up your husband for sacrifice.”

Just the thought of it made her want to retch. “My husband is your best friend.”

“So?”

She waited for Michael to say something else, anything else, but he remained silent. “How could you condone torturing a little boy? Not just any little boy, but your best friend’s little boy?”

Michael smiled. “You said it yourself—I’m a monster.”

“You are the most depraved, twisted, miserable excuse for a human being I’ve ever encountered.” There was more she wanted to say, but calling him names clearly pleased him.

“Granted.” He smiled proudly. “Did you expect me to be warmly welcoming? Embrace you with forgiving arms, perhaps? Do you have any idea what you cost me seven years ago?”

“A handful of slaves worth hardly a pittance of what you make now. My understanding is you abhor slavery. According to reports, you refuse to practice slavery on your world, and you funnel money to Network Thirteen. Do you realize that your money has supported my work?”

“Had I known, Diane, you and I would have had this conversation long ago. Without Duster’s knowledge.” Michael paused, giving her time to let the implications of his words sink in. “I would have gladly killed you myself and given him your son.”

Her heart lurched. “And told him what?”

“A moot point. For we are not there, we are here.” Assessing his glass, he swirled the liquid before taking a sip. Then he turned his gaze to her. “You almost cost me my best friend seven years ago. You turned Duster against me, then turned right around and betrayed him.” Michael shook his head. “If I am a monster and a miserable excuse for a human being, then you are an unscrupulous harlot with the morals of an alley cat.”

It stung far worse than any physical strike could have, but still, Diane refused to take the blow without giving something back. “You forgave Duster. You saved him. And if anyone is turning your best friend against you now, it would be you.”

Dismissing her claim with a smirk, Michael said, “You’ve probably already started your work. Twisting him around your finger, or rather crooking it to his pants, and he so willingly follows. After what you managed to pull off seven years ago, I can’t trust you or him.”

“Do you honestly think that I’ve set my sights on Windmere? That I want to, what? Take over your world? Why? Just exactly what would I get out of it?”

“Who knows?” Michael shrugged, pulling the red silk taut across his shoulders. “The point is moot as that will not happen. You have set foot on a world that I control with an iron fist.” Again he inspected his strong yet uncalloused hand. She realized this gesture was to convey his disdain. “Yet I’m curious as to why you are here. You knew I wouldn’t be happy to see you again.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Duster took command of my ship.” Michael smiled at that. “Duster wanted to come here, not me.” She realized she was inadvertently blaming Duster, so she softened her tone. “Duster said Windmere—”

“Prime Bastard,” Michael interrupted.

“This world”—she wasn’t going to get bogged down in minutia—“would be a safe place for Scott.”

At the mention of her son, Michael stopped inspecting his nails. He looked toward an operational panel on the wall behind his desk. Diane wasn’t certain, but she thought there was a prison cell on the audvid, and Mary was in the cell. Perhaps Michael wasn’t as heartless as he wanted to portray himself as.

Softly, she continued. “Duster said on this world, Scott wouldn’t have to fight just to keep his shoes. He wouldn’t have to kill just to get something to fill his stomach.”

Michael’s harsh face softened, and she prayed she’d finally reached him. “I did everything I could to protect Scott on Dahank, but still there were times when the horrors of that world touched him. Duster assured me that wouldn’t happen here.”

The hard light of aggression in Michael’s eyes faded to nil, and then she witnessed the briefest burst of compassion. Something she said touched him. Something about Scott or a safe place to live killed that bully inside Michael. But only for a moment. Just as quickly as it materialized, the empathy disappeared. Like a door slamming shut, Michael’s entire demeanor changed.

“You’ll betray Duster again. I’m going to stop you from hurting him a second time.”

“So you’ll do it yourself this time?”

Michael’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re the one betraying Duster, not me. You’ve imprisoned him, kept him from his son, filled him so full of fear—I know you’re enjoying torturing me, but I’m surprised to learn that you take such depraved pleasure in torturing a man who has practically given up his life for you.” A brutal desire for revenge filled the golden-brown depths of Michael’s eyes. “Then what, Michael? Will you turn your wrath on a little boy? Will you derive pleasure from Scott’s fear too?”

Anger flared across Michael’s features, clearly showing in how he gripped his glass. Diane felt he wanted to launch himself off his desk and strangle her. But he bit back his fury, or rather swallowed it down when he sipped from his drink. Calmly, he assessed her. “Duster may believe your story that Scott is his, but I do not. My understanding is the
Den of Iniquity
is your ship. A courtesan ship. Scott could be any man’s son.”

“Take one look at him, and you’ll know the truth.”

“That is an excellent suggestion.” Michael lifted his cup to her. “I should take a long, hard look at Scott. Not only at his face, but also his DNA. Frankly, Diane, I wonder if he is even yours.”

“Go ahead.” Nothing he could do would change the facts. “Prove to yourself with science what you can see with your own eyes.”

Graceful as a cat, Michael set his drink aside and strode over to her. She expected to smell pungent whiskey on his breath but didn’t. He smelled like…coffee. Craning her head back to keep eye contact, Diane fought down a desire to back away. There wasn’t anywhere for her to go, and retreating from him would show weakness.

Grasping her shoulders, Michael held her still, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Tell me what you want.”

Unsure if he could smell the truth on her, or not, she decided to tell him the truth. “I want to live with my husband and son.”

“Do you love them?”

“With all my heart.”

“Would you die for them?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Answer my question, or I’ll kill you right now.” He could do it with his bare hands, and they both knew it.

“Yes. If push came to shove, I would die for them.”

Eyes closed, Michael stood there, breathing deep as he held his hands on her shoulders. Rocking his head side to side, he smiled suddenly, and his eyes popped open. He looked down into her face with triumph. She felt as if she’d just been judged, and he would now render his verdict. Irrationally, Diane dreaded what he would say.

“You are not finished betraying him, are you?”

Shaking her head, Diane said, “I will not—”

“Duster doesn’t know, does he?”

“Know what?” Diane tried to tell herself Michael was only on a fishing expedition, but she couldn’t be certain. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.” Lifting his hand from her shoulder, he cupped her chin. “I can see why he wants you so badly. Why he would wait seven years for you. You are extremely beautiful, Diane. Such pleasure he would find with your body. Your very painfully empty body.”

Baffled, Diane stood very still in her plastimetal chains as she considered what he could have possibly smelled on her. Empty body, but empty of what? Heart, soul, fortitude, what? Rather than question him, which she knew would be futile, she simply waited, hoping he would explain.

“I do believe I will retract my deal.” Michael sauntered back to his desk. “I will let you have what you want.” He polished off his drink. “Then relax and watch as your lies destroy it.”

Chapter Fourteen

Duster cooled his bare heels in the waiting room off Michael’s office. Two guards played cards as they kept half an eye on him. Bound in plastimetal shackles, Duster wasn’t much for them to worry about, because what could he really do? Head-butt them, but after that? Not much. Even if he managed to free himself and got his hands on a weapon, it wouldn’t do him any good, not on a planet full of smart weapons. Duster no longer had authorization, so any gun he touched wouldn’t fire in his hands. He’d have to use it like a club, and that wouldn’t get him anywhere either. Hell, without an authorized wrist com, he couldn’t even open a door. All the hard work he’d put into designing Windmere’s security now worked against him. Even the tricks Mary had pulled would no longer work. With Mary in charge of security, Duster didn’t take anything as given.