Stripper: The Fringe, Book 4 (6 page)

Chapter Five

Duster used the silk bed cover to slide against her, loving the way she rose to meet him. She didn’t seem at all unwilling to do whatever he wanted her to do.

He pulled back, sat up and considered her. Damn. Seven years had been more than kind to her. She was beautiful. Probably more so now than she had been then. In the muted peach light, her hair gleamed like copper twined with gold. Four feet of it curled down along the sides of her face to tangle on the pillow. He wanted to wrap his hands in the length and feel the slippery strands sweep across his face and his chest. But more than that, he wanted to watch her eyes roll back when she climaxed. In the blissful moment of her pleasure, Diane had always been stunning.

“I should have known.” He crawled off the bed, masking his attraction with anger.

“Known what?” Diane sat up, pulling the covers around her chest, almost as if she were determined to protect herself from his gaze if nothing else.

“That you’re just trying to lead me around by my penis again. No wonder you’re all wiggly, warm and willing. Thing is, I’m not twenty-two anymore.” He tried to will his erection to subside, but it was like trying to pick up a glass of water with his ear—wasn’t going to be happening anytime soon. Not if he kept looking at Diane. Not if he didn’t stop thinking of her being at his complete and utter mercy.

“You want me willing, but when I am, it’s because I’m trying to betray you again?” Diane sat up fully, crossed her legs and pulled the covers with her.

“Aren’t you?” Duster turned away, trying to hide his painfully obvious erection. What he wouldn’t give for the distraction of a palmful of crackleseeds. But that was how his addiction to them started—they’d been a pale substitute for his cravings for Diane. “What is this really all about?”

“I told you, it’s a coincidence.” Her voice had that soft tang of honesty.

“No such thing.”

“Duster, I didn’t even know you were alive.”

He whirled and pinned her with a gaze. “Disappointed?”

“Delighted.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are.” She didn’t want him dead, probably was happy when she discovered he was still alive. “Did you really think you could use me to get to Michael?” he asked, even though he didn’t think that was what she was after. But telling her he believed her about the coincidence would only embolden her and make him weaker somehow. By accusing her, he might be able to get more information out of her.

“Get to Michael for what?” Diane sounded genuinely baffled.

“Spare me. It’s all about the script for you, isn’t it? My paltry 7Mil is just the appetizer for what you’ll get for Michael.” Duster laughed. “His head on a platter is up to a solid 20Mil. Probably more for one with your manipulative abilities.”

Diane uttered a sigh of sheer exhaustion. “For the last time, I didn’t know my tenacious client was you. I never would have taken the job had I known. Believe me, the last thing I wanted was to ever see you—or Michael—again.”

He believed her. Right down to the sticking-place in his heart, he knew she was telling him the truth. And it hurt. He’d thought they were in love. He’d claimed her as his wife. To find out she didn’t feel the same… He didn’t know about her upbringing, but his was strict and very orthodox. When you found the woman you wanted to mate with, you claimed her as your wife. You didn’t fornicate with anyone but her, even if you didn’t know where the hell she was. Knowing she regretted finding him again cut far deeper than the initial betrayal had.

“I don’t believe a damn thing that comes out of your mouth.” To protect his far too tender heart, he’d lie. Ironically, the lies came easier than the truth.

Diane caught his gaze. “Then I guess there’s no point in asking me anything.”

“You’re right. Get up.”

Diane clutched the covers tighter. “No.”

“Let’s set some ground rules right now. When I tell you to do something, you do it.” He grasped a fistful of the covers and yanked, flipping them off the bed.

Long, freckle-spotted limbs curled up as she tried to cover herself with one of the pillows. Between her legs, he caught a quick flash of wetness before she got the puffy rectangle situated. Wryly, he thought at least her desire was genuine.

“Modesty. How interesting. Considering I’ve seen it all before.” He found a burgundy silk robe on the floor and tossed it to her, unable to decide if he did it for her benefit or his. Frankly, a hammer wouldn’t knock his erection down at the moment.

High, red marks of shame darkened her cheeks as she slipped her robe on and climbed out of bed. “You saw me by my choice seven years ago. I’m not going to become your plaything so you can humiliate me.” Diane lifted her chin.

Feeling challenged, he ordered, “Come here.”

“No.” Drawing the robe around her like a shield, Diane looked for escape. Her darting gaze quickly spied that he blocked the only exit. Warily, she eyed him.

“Do you want me to remind you who’s boss?” His snarling tone visibly chilled her. Her slender body was no match for the massive power of his. And she knew it. With fight or flight her only options, she realized she could do neither. All she could do was surrender.

Cautiously, Diane stepped forward.

Grabbing her hands, he laughed when she tried to jerk back. “Afraid of me now?” He used the robe’s belt to tie her hands tight to her waist. “I like that you’re afraid. Because it’s smart for you to be frightened of me. You’re not going to get me again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? Shame on me. Shoot me where I stand, but there is no way in the ever-loving Void I’m going to allow you to fool me a third time.”

Diane swallowed hard.

Duster tied her wrists so tightly to her waist she couldn’t lift her arms. She could have used her fingers, but he twined the long bit of burgundy silk around her palms, flattening her hands to her belly. The only way she’d be able to access a com panel was with her face.

“You don’t need to truss me up like this. You know I don’t know how to fight.”

“I know this because? Oh, right, because that’s what you told me seven years ago.” Duster touched her face, cupped her chin and tilted her head back so he could peer into her eyes. “Seven years is a long time. Who knows what you’ve managed to learn?” Lowering his gaze to the open V of her robe, he added, “I’ve learned an awful lot. Thanks to a woman erroneously dubbed Remarkably Average Mary, I’ve learned not to judge a book by its cover.”

“Is she the woman you met three years ago?”

Duster found it odd that Diane had such a desperate need to know the details. “I met Mary seven months ago, actually. Scary Mary.” Duster checked Diane’s restraints again. “You ever heard of the Purple Lady of Corona?”

“Scary Mary is the Purple Lady of Corona?”

“One in the same.”

“How many nicknames does this woman have?”

“More than enough. The most fitting one, though, is Scary Mary.” Shaking his head, Duster gave a short, sharp bark of a laugh. “That woman.”

“Are you in love with her?” Despite her effort to appear indifferent, her concern came through loud and clear.

“You know, in a way, I think I am.” Duster did love Mary. Not the way Diane thought, not the way he’d let her think, but he loved Mary because he finally understood Michael’s obsession with her. Duster underestimated Mary once, but Michael, that pig-headed ass, underestimated Mary repeatedly until she made it damn clear she had the most dangerous criminal mind either of them had ever encountered.

“Does she love you back?”

Rather than answer her question and put her fear to rest, he said nothing. Mary was a menace. Smarter than hell, that woman could eventually work her way out of total lockdown. Duster admired her, respected her, even feared her. “Scary Mary. She’s one of a kind.”

“And she’s on Windmere.”

“Is she who you’re after?” Duster hadn’t thought of that angle, but it fit. There was an awful lot about Mary neither he nor Michael knew. As the Bandit of Taiga, Mary made a bundle of bitter enemies. As the Purple Lady of Corona, she undoubtedly made even more. Hell, just her walking into a room would piss some people off, given the arrogant strut she had. No matter what her nickname, Mary had a real knack for making enemies out of people within five minutes. Moreover, her mysterious father was an IWOG officer. As crazy at it might seem at first blush, Diane could have been after Mary.

“I’m not after anyone,” Diane defended.

“Just money.” Duster turned his attention to her restraints. He realized he wasn’t checking them as much as he was feeling the way the silk robe clung to her hips. Damn it. He had to get his hormones under control.

“I give up. I’m not going to argue with you anymore.”

“Gee, that’s too bad. Looks like we don’t have much to say to each other, then.” Duster got behind her and marched her to the bridge. “Take a seat.”

Diane made an ungainly plop in the copilot’s chair. When her robe lofted open, she tried to close the loose flaps by wriggling her legs and squirming her hands. All she did was widen the gap.

Duster grinned. He had a wonderful view of her legs all the way up almost to her tight, wet— “Leave it.”

Diane lifted her head like a queen addressing a serf. “Why don’t you just have me run around naked?”

“It’s better this way.” Actually, he enjoyed enticing himself, teasing himself. Seeing some, not all. After a lingering look at her, he turned his attention to the dash. “Now, let’s see what we have here.”

Riveting his hands to the keypad, Duster quickly hacked into the heart of the ship’s mainframe. “Nice.” He changed all the passwords, recalibrated all the autofires, then checked the Tasher history cache.

“What are you doing?” Diane tried to sound mildly curious, but there was a distinct edge of panic to her voice.

“You know what I’m doing.” When Duster glared, her queenly look crumpled to one of frightened maid. “I’m about to find out a whole lot about you.” With another series of keystrokes, he accessed her email, her credit accounts and the entire history of her registered ship. “Well, well, isn’t this interesting.”

Diane took a deep breath. There wasn’t anything about Scott. She knew that for a fact. Only one other person knew about him, and that was the way it was going to stay. Duster would never let her go if he found out. If he was in love with another woman, she certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

Deliberately sounding bored, she said, “I can’t imagine what you find so fascinating about my transactions.”

“Well.” He tapped the screen. “Your network, for one. I didn’t know you were working with them. How long have you been a member of Network Thirteen?”

“Since the day I met you.”

There was a long pause as all the implications of that sunk into Duster’s mind. He nodded, as if that lone fact made everything click. “So that’s why you betrayed me the first time. I guess Michael was right.”

“About what?”

“That you really did want me dead. See, I always thought you just wanted to get away.” Duster frowned, his hurt stamping clear lines across his brow. “You really did want me to die in that shuttle, didn’t you?”

“I wanted you to survive. I helped you get away.”

Duster uttered such a harsh and bitter laugh, she winced.

“Right!” Duster snickered. “You helped me ever so much by strapping me into a shuttle that had barely an hour of air left. Oh, but yes, before you left, you accepted my ring of betrothal, then screwed me senseless.” He shot her a grin and a tight wink. “That was a nice touch.”

Diane felt the ring against her back. She wanted to yank it out and show it to him as proof she loved him, but she couldn’t. Not with her arms strapped down. Besides, he’d only take it away from her. He’d probably think she had a duplicate made to trick him. Overcoming his distrust seemed impossible, and she became ever more discouraged to try. If she wanted to keep the ring, she would have to hide it at her first opportunity. And she did want to keep the memento of a time when she had been thoroughly in love and that depth of emotion had been reciprocated.

“How many other men have you seduced for your network?” Duster kept his attention on the screen as he scrolled through the information logged in her ship’s memory. Without a qualm,
Den of Iniquity
gave up every secret it held. Network Thirteen never did care much about computer security. What little Diane had added, Duster whisked away like so much pesky dust. “I asked you, how many men, besides me, have you seduced for your network?”

“None.”

Duster rolled his eyes. “Don’t you even try to spring the lie on me that there’s been no one but me.”

Wisely, Diane kept her mouth shut. But it was absolutely true. She’d been with no man but Duster Jennings. And she knew he’d never believe her.

“Just so we’re both real clear on the concept, your network can’t help you.”

Diane inadvertently cast her gaze to the panic switch.

“Don’t waste your time.” Duster flipped it back and forth with a lazy, flicking finger. “Doesn’t work now.”

Slumping back in her chair, she suddenly brightened. If she didn’t contact them within a week, they would come. Not that she wanted to see them again. She’d been scrimping endlessly to get away from Network Thirteen. Seemed she’d found her exit strategy, but she had taken herself from the frying pan and into the fire. Still, the network was better than what she would suffer at Duster’s hands.