Harry nodded, eyes clenched shut.
Sean followed. His teeth ached.
He turned his head away and tried to find something to focus on, to distract from the pain. April wasn’t going to let them up until they both had good solid memories of her discipline.
The woman wasn’t a certified Domme for nothing.
He blinked away tears as another figure came into focus.
Daniel LeClair. Wearing a smug look and standing in the doorway leading to the landing bay.
He didn’t know how long the marshal had been standing there but he suspected it’d been longer than anyone realized.
April noticed him at the same time as Sean, the pressure on his arm lessening a fraction as she assessed the situation.
“Marshal,” she murmured. “Sorry to bother you.”
“Ship’s business?” He didn’t move.
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Please, continue. As the captain would say, it’s none of my concern.” He didn’t move away.
“Thank you.” The pressure increased again. “Have I made myself clear to the two of you?”
“Crystal,” Harry whispered.
“Definitely.” His fingers were numb.
“Good.” The tension disappeared. The feeling of blood returning to his arm generated almost as much pain as the original grip. Sean rolled onto his back and groaned.
Harry massaged his right arm, lying beside Sean. A thin sheen of sweat covered his bare chest as he huffed for air.
Sean wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing him try to rub the feeling back into his muscles. Instead, he lay there in silence.
April stood above them, eyes blazing. Her pink housecoat gave her a somewhat comical appearance but Sean knew no man present would dare to crack a smile at it.
She brushed off her arms and returned to her cabin door where she turned and watched them struggle to their feet.
April glared at both men. “We will not be having this discussion again.” Her tone left no room for negotiation.
“Understood,” Harry wheezed, holding his right arm across his torso.
Sean nodded. He didn’t have the strength to speak and he wasn’t going to appear weak in front of Harry.
“Now the two of you shake hands and get the fuck out of here.”
Sean took Harry’s shaking hand in a loose grip and released it.
Harry nodded again and retreated to his suite. The hatch swung shut, leaving the two courtesans and the marshal behind.
Sean leaned against the wall, letting his arm dangle free.
It felt great as long as he stayed still.
Daniel closed the door behind him and moved further down the hall. “Nice moves.”
April gave him a polite nod. “Thank you. I’m sure your training covers the same sort of tactics.”
“To a degree.” He chuckled and looked down. “But I deal with a different set of people.”
“True.” April smiled. “Pleasure and pain aren’t what the UNS deals in.” She gave him a friendly smile. “I’d offer you a ‘training’ session but I believe my timing would be inappropriate.”
“You’d be correct. However, I would request your help on another matter.” An annoyed sigh escaped. “It seems I once again fail to understand women. Or one, to be specific.”
April stepped inside her suite and waved him forward. “It’d be a pleasure to discuss this matter with you, Marshal. I have some ideas on how to resolve your problem. And maybe a toy suggestion or two.” A sly wink brought a blush to the marshal’s cheeks.
Sean tried not to laugh as Daniel headed into April’s cabin. It was one thing to bring killers to justice, another to wrangle a long-distance relationship with a Mercy ship captain.
Especially one who didn’t want to appear weak in front of her crew. Or anyone else.
He stepped toward his suite, rotating his left shoulder with care. Nothing a hot pack and a shot of whiskey wouldn’t take care of.
A sound stopped him in his tracks.
A mixture of a gasp and a sigh.
He knew that voice.
A half-turn and he saw Catherine looking out at him through a crack in her door, her eyes wide. It was obvious she’d witnessed the entire interaction between him and Harry including the embarrassing display of April’s domination of them both.
Sean didn’t stop, but continued toward his room not caring what she’d seen or hadn’t seen.
He was too old for this shit.
* * *
Catherine closed the door, hearing the lock catch with a gentle snick.
She wasn’t sure what she’d just witnessed.
Was Sean upset because she hadn’t chosen to pay him for sex?
Did Mercy men get annoyed in that way?
She had thought herself ready to tape her testimony, get that out of the way and send it off. With the new information she had it’d be a blockbuster speech that would have the jury weeping and ready to toss the book at the Global Transport executives.
But now her mind wasn’t on that.
“Belle, can you connect me with Kendra please?” She sat down at the table, intertwining her fingers.
This was going to be interesting.
The dark-skinned woman appeared on the screen. “Ms. Rogers. What can I do for you?”
Catherine’s voice failed her as she tried to assemble her thoughts into some sort of coherent speech.
Kendra watched her for a minute in silence, one edge of her mouth twisting up.
“Let me guess. Sean, Harry and April in the corridor.”
Catherine nodded.
Kendra held up her hand. “Before you worry that I’m psychic let me point out I just spoke to April. She noticed your—” The smile grew. “Your curiosity and warned me you might be calling.”
“I thought she was busy with the marshal,” Catherine mumbled, feeling the heat in her cheeks.
“As a friend. Not as a client.” Kendra grinned. “Sam may think that no one knows about her relationship with the good marshal but we all know and approve. Which is why April has no problem offering her services to help smooth over the bumps in the road.”
“Ah.” She had no idea what to say.
“Now.” Kendra leaned in toward the screen. “Ask away.”
“I didn’t have sex with Harry,” she sputtered. “Sean thinks I did. Why? What—” She caught her breath seeing Kendra’s upraised finger.
“Breathe.” The courtesan waited. “Sean, it seems, believes you went to Harry’s cabin to engage his services.” Her right eyebrow rose. “You’re telling me you did not. Was there a problem? An issue he couldn’t resolve?”
“No. No,” Catherine repeated. She felt her cheeks burn, the embarrassment of this discussion showing through. “He—” She paused, not sure if what Harry had told her fell under the Guild’s secrecy rules.
Kendra’s upraised palm stopped that train of thought. “Whether you did or not is no one’s business, Ms. Rogers. If you sat on his lap and told him bedtime stories for an hour or rode him hard and put him away wet for the same hour it doesn’t make a difference.”
The blush threatened to burn her from the inside out. “We talked.”
Kendra shrugged. “Whatever. Sean reacted unprofessionally and April disciplined him. So did Harry, and believe me, I plan to follow up on that with him.”
“But why would Sean be upset? Why would he care?”
Kendra tilted her head to one side, her brown eyes twinkling with what looked like laughter. “What do you think, Ms. Rogers?”
“I—” She froze.
“I’ve got to attend to another matter. Please feel free to call me later if you wish to discuss this further.” Kendra g
ave her one last smile before disconnecting.
The ship was getting to her.
That had to be it.
There was no way a Mercy man—
She bit down on her lower lip.
Could he be in love with her?
A woman in the middle of throwing everything she had away?
Catherine gave herself a shake and steadied herself in front of the monitor. She had more pressing matters to deal with. “Belle?”
“Yes, Ms. Rogers?”
“What sort of options do you have for producing a personal video?”
“I am equipped with the best software and hardware to create portfolios for the courtesans,” Belle replied. “On the average a new portfolio is updated every month so I am well acquainted with the process.”
Mentally Catherine slapped her forehead. Of course the computer on a Mercy ship would be able to produce high-quality videos on demand.
There was one advantage about working with an AI. They couldn’t laugh at you when you slipped up.
“I can record, edit and play back anything you wish to put on display,” Belle continued. “I can also add a fake background if you wish to be seen as elsewhere. A beach setting perhaps, or a nightclub.”
She paused, considering her options. “No, I don’t think I need to go to that extreme. Maybe a professional boardroom setting.”
Don’t let them know you’re taping this in a Mercy woman’s suite.
“I can provide that.” The blank screen shifted to show Catherine sitting in front of a generic light wood paneling, the same she’d seen in a hundred meeting rooms.
There was no way anyone would think she was on board the Belle.
She ran her fingers through her hair, watching her double do the same on the screen. The singed ends still stuck out but Catherine figured it’d add a sense of realism to her statements—after all, someone had tried to kill her.
In her mind she reran the testimony she’d already given to the authorities the first time she’d sat down and flipped over Global Transport’s rotting log, exposing the slime and decay underneath. It could be enough to carry the case in the event of her death but now she had more to say.
Much more.
“Please begin recording.” She drew a deep breath and stared into the screen. “My name is Catherine Rogers—”
An hour later she fell silent. Her throat felt like she’d swallowed shattered glass.
“May I have some water, Belle?”
“Certainly.” A small panel opened up in the wall, disgorging an icy cold water bottle.
Catherine grabbed at it and drank half of the contents in the first few seconds. A cold beer would have gone down better but she couldn’t risk the slightest chance of impairment.
“Are you finished, Ms. Rogers?” Belle asked.
“Yes. Can you play it back?” Catherine watched herself on the screen. Her hand went up to the locket at her throat and she stroked the tiny heart.
She shook her head as the words spewed out, some choked with emotion and some spat out through clenched teeth.
This would not do.
She wasn’t working on breaking down a bunch of execs to take over their company. This was different.
This had turned quite personal.
If the killers succeeded in taking her life this would be all she had left, her last will and testament. It would have to stand in her place in the witness box and deliver justice for those who could no longer speak.
It had to be perfect.
“Belle, set up the editing program. Let’s make this work.” She sipped water and watched the monitor shift to show a detailed list of options, some of which she’d never heard of. “Show me the magic.”
Six hours later Catherine stood up from the table, wincing as her back snapped and popped like a fireworks display. It wasn’t perfect but it was at the point where any more changes would start unraveling the carefully woven presentation she’d created.
Belle had been correct in assessing her production software—the AI had options Catherine had never heard of, much less seen on her own desktop computer. It wasn’t necessarily the special effects that made the show work, it was how the words were woven together. She hadn’t needed any of the effects for her taped testimony but it’d been an impressive display of what the Guild offered their clients and demanded their courtesans produce.
In retrospect she wasn’t surprised at the depth of Belle’s skills. It wasn’t like the courtesans could stop off at a production studio every time they wanted to change their portfolios. Each of them had to be able to create and sell their image in the best way possible to garner enough clients to stay profitable.
She winced as her thoughts went to Sean. How many portfolios had he created to lure women into his bed?
How many women had engaged his services?
She started to do the math and stopped.
She didn’t have time for this.
“Okay, Belle. Show it again.” Catherine rolled her head around, hearing her neck bones pop. “From the top.”
She listened to the clear calm words as they came out of the speakers, studied her doppelganger’s movements. No panic, no extra emotion, professional to the end.
Maybe her best presentation ever.
Harry’s brother deserved her best and she’d delivered.
“Playback complete,” Belle said. “Are you satisfied with this copy?” There was no judgment in the AI’s voice, no sign of exhaustion or tiredness.
A human producer would have walked out hours ago. As it was, she was mentally and physically exhausted, feeling like she’d run a marathon when all she’d done was sit and talk.
“Playback complete. Would you like to transmit?”
“In a second.” Catherine undid the chain and pulled it free.
A flick of her fingernail opened the locket. The clear crystal sparkled in the light.
“Please extract all of the information from this and add it to the recording as an attachment.” She paused. “Please include the photograph I added recently.”
“Understood.” A small panel slid up beside the monitor exposing a data entry port. “At your convenience.”
She dropped the minute square into the slot and waited.
“Thank you.”
Catherine sat at the table, her legs almost too weak to hold her.
This was it. All those months of gathering data, all those sleepless nights of practicing what to say and how to say it, what phrasing would be the most powerful to present her case and convince others of the evil done in order to make more money.
It wouldn’t have the same impact if she weren’t there to deliver it live but at least it’d outlive her if the bastards managed to kill her off. As it was, her presentation was so good that if and when she made it to the witness stand she’d recite the same lines.
Except she was going to live long enough to push this transmission into the back row and deliver her testimony in person.
“Data crystal ready for retrieval.” Belle pushed the delicate square out into her hand. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.” She slipped it back into the locket. “Please send a copy to the marshal, the captain and keep one for yourself.”
It wouldn’t hurt to keep a copy somewhere safe—even if it was a Mercy ship.
“Understood,” Belle murmured.
Catherine sat back, mentally wiped. At least now if the bastards succeeded in killing her there’d still be some justice for the dead.
It’d have to be enough for now.
She walked into the bedroom and flopped onto the mattress, face-down.
“Ms. Rogers?”
Catherine twisted her head to one side, mouth still partially covered by the quilt. “Yes, Bell
e?”
“I was wondering if you’d like some nourishment. You haven’t eaten for many hours. You must be getting hungry.”
Her stomach growled. The steak and eggs were nothing but a pleasant memory and she was long past running on just chocolate.
“I guess I am. What’s on the menu?”
Belle ran through a long and varied list, startling Catherine with the variety of choices. She finally settled on a steak, medium rare, with baked potato and green beans.
“Your meal will be delivered momentarily via the dumbwaiter.” A dim light flashed around a square in the far wall. “I’ll put the table down for you when it’s ready.”
“Thank you.” She’d never met an AI like Belle. There had been artificial intelligences on board her company ship and in her office but none of them had such a vibrant personality.
She wouldn’t have put it past the Guild to have some high-tech computer whiz developing a higher grade of consciousness for their own ships.
“Belle? I know you can’t tell me about the other crew members—”
The AI responded quickly as if to kill off the line of questioning before she could start. “Affirmative. I can detail their services and show you their portfolios if you wish but I cannot dispense personal information.”
“Understood.” The words caught in her throat but she pushed past the fear. “If you could display their portfolios I’d appreciate it. Split screen, please.” Catherine knew she was opening up a can of worms for her inner self but she deserved to know everything she could about the men and women she was flying with.
And possibly dying with.
She rolled over and pushed herself up the bed until her back rested on the headboard.
The images began to flash across the screen on two levels, a rolling advertisement for the courtesans’ services. She couldn’t help scowling as the women and men strutted their stuff for potential clients, fully dressed, but definitely giving a series of come-hither looks. The scrolling words on the bottom detailed the services offered and she couldn’t help but be impressed by some of them.
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