Finally the kiss gentled, and he lifted his head, just enough to look at her mouth, his thumb sweeping across her cheek to stroke between her wet lips. She caressed it with her tongue, tasting him. And would have done more right there, had he demanded it.
"Soon," he promised, his gaze hot. He straightened, his arm about her again, and propelled her back out into the busy concourse. "Now come along."
Kiri walked along with him, and on the hoverway, she leaned into him. Not that she needed him to support her, but at least for however long this lasted, she wouldn't be alone.
Chapter 9
Stark's attendant didn't look too surprised to see Kiri.
Kiri dropped into the seat across from Stark on his cruiser. He made sure her seat harness was fastened for takeoff and sat back in his own seat.
"I do have one question," he said after a moment. "Why did you gamble more than you could afford?"
"None of your business."
He looked at her over his steepled hands. "It is. If you have an addiction, I want to know before we become involved. There are treatment programs. But more than that, I will not tolerate that particular compulsion."
Her face burned. He thought she was a total slummer—gambling, murder. "I don't have an addiction. I told you I'm good with numbers. I used that to get my business going. Also, I can see patterns, figure trends. I started watching the display between customers. After a while, I saw a pattern. Did some figuring and made a few small wagers. I won them all."
She rubbed her hands over the soft leather of the chair. "Then the fighting started to get really bad in my quadrant. Been waiting to get flashbombed in my bed. Or grabbed off the street by a slaver. I decided to make one big wager and then have enough credit to get a better place, closer to the port."
"Ah." He nodded, and when she looked at him warily, she saw no judgment, only wry acceptance. "And the Vulpean saw you coming."
"Little bastard changed the patterning, instead of finishing the set the way it would have played out organically."
His eyes narrowed. "You are good with numbers. One of a thousand would pick up on a subtle pattern like that."
She let her head fall back on the chair. "For what good it does me."
He grunted in acknowledgement. "So in fact, your ... misfortunes have been cause and effect. The fighting worsened, so you gambled. The Vulpean was cheating his customers, so you lost and he was killed."
She stared at him. "But I didn't—oh. You think he was killed by someone else he cheated yesterday."
Stark shrugged. "It is the answer that makes the most sense."
"Well, I for one hope they never get caught," she muttered.
"You may have your wish. Security holovids from the back passageway are missing, according to the source I spoke with."
"Really?" That was more sophisticated than just a clout over the head from an enraged customer. Kiri shuddered.
Organized crime was always slithering around the edges of the port, looking for merchants to strong-arm. She had avoided the gangers' attention herself by having so few profits she wasn't worth bothering with. But she supposed the Vulpean had been worthy of their attentions.
She wondered if Tal was involved, and hoped not. She didn't want to think a man she'd been with was capable of murder, although he probably was if pushed.
She frowned at the dark, gloomy cityscape. "Where are we?"
"Headed south from the space port."
Kiri craned her neck to peer out the porthole nearest her. A familiar tall, thin obelisk speared into the clouds. Lights danced up and down its sides in an ever-changing display of colors and patterns. "Hey, there's the New Space Needle. My apartment is near here. Can we—?" She looked at him.
"You know there's nothing left," he said quietly.
Kiri swallowed the hot lump in her throat. "I know. But I need to see it."
He nodded. "Giles, fly over Astra quadrant. When you reach Landing Ten, hover please. And we'll want the belly cams.
"Yes, sir."
The cruiser swung west. Kiri gasped, grabbing the arms of her chair as a holovid opened before her. It was as if her seat hung in midair, only drifting clouds and dirty fog between her and the rooftops of her old neighborhood. She checked to make sure Stark was still across from her. He was watching her, his face enigmatic.
Their flight slowed, and she looked down again. There it was, the familiar tall, empty building on the corner, windows like empty eye-sockets. And the odd yellow of the fastener factory. But between them lay only a heap of blackened, twisted metal and fabrication, smoke still drifting in odd wisps from the depths. The near wall of the factory had been scorched too, long black streaks contrasting with the garish yellow.
Streamers of pale blue substance lay draped over the rubble like ice she'd seen on a holovid of Earth I. Cryofoam. No fire could withstand the intense cold and suffocation if enough of the foam could be sprayed from fire-fighting cruisers. There was still one parked on the street, and she could see chartreuse-suited firefighters and police in red suits clustered on the ground.
Kiri drew a shaky breath and then another. There was truly nothing left. No way could anything of hers have survived that. Not that she'd had much.
"Kiri, you're safe. That's all that matters."Stark said quietly. "Things can be replaced."
"Not all of them," she whispered.
"What did you lose that was so important to you?"
She swallowed, hard. "I had a strongbox. Cerametal, fire and waterproof. Had some things in it. Holovids."
"Of your family. No copies backed up anywhere?"
"No idea. I don't know what servers my parents used, or if they're even still up on the grid anywhere."
"How old were you when they died?"
"It was a long time ago. Can we go now, please?"
"Yes," Stark said. "We're going shopping."
She twisted to stare at him. "Shopping?" she repeated blankly. "Uh, I don't really feel up for shopping." More as if she'd been put through a garbage recycler and hung out to dry.
"You need something other than that to wear." He flicked a look over her shabby smock and tights.
"What about my coffee stand?" she asked. Although she wasn't sure the police would let her near it today. Ugh, another day of lost business she couldn't make up.
"That will wait 'til tomorrow, when the furor has died down. Meanwhile, I'm tired of looking at that smock."
She was tired of wearing it. She wouldn't mind a comfortable knit outfit, like the tights, tanks and soft jackets she wore when she was off work. She got them cheaply at a resale shop near the space port. Occasionally there were pretty things, cast off by some well-to-do young woman her size. But now her meager supply of clothing was gone, as well as everything else she owned.
A short trip to the discount marts would be a nice diversion. She could do that.
She didn't realize she'd spoken aloud until Stark replied. "I do not shop at the discount marts. And while you're with me, neither do you. I'm taking you to Maitresse."
Kiri froze, a chill of new horror sweeping over her sweat-sticky skin. "No," she choked. "No, anything but that."
* * *
Stark didn't listen to her protests, even when she called him a quarking bully, her voice cracking with anger.
Instead, his cruiser landed atop a skyscraper crouched over the bay like a gleaming rampart, all cerametal and glass, and he stepped out of the cruiser, her wrist firmly manacled in his grasp.
When she tugged at his grip, he gave her a goading look. "After what you've been through, you're frightened by a clothing store?"
"This is not just a clothing store," she sputtered. "It's—it's like the pinnacle of feminine apparel—the sun of clothing stores. And I'm in my old work clothes."
He chuckled. Also, he did not let go until the cruiser had taken off and there was nowhere to go but inside.
When the glittering doors slid open at their approach, Stark finally let Kiri free her hand, bu
t she stayed close by his side, her knees trembling all over again as he strode through the doors and into the hushed, rarified atmosphere of the most famous high-fashion house in New Seattle, perhaps in the whole country.
It was peopled by elegant, polite beings clad in the same cream hue of the walls and carpets who smiled respectfully as Stark walked in.
Kiri looked around in awe. A different sort than that which had kept her quiescent at the port police station. She'd been transported into a world she'd scarcely dared to dream of. One that smelled of exotic fragrances and held warmth that belied the damp chill outside.
Of course she'd fantasized about being successful enough to shop at places like this, but she knew her current credit would not extend to even one of the lii silk scarves on a faceless model-bot gesturing gracefully from an alcove. She also knew she looked like someone who could not afford to be here.
Quark Logan Stark. Bringing her here when she was all grubby and sweaty, her face probably tearstained, and in her shabby work smock. She wanted to scuttle off and hide behind one of the modelbots. Only pride kept her head high.
"This is totally out of my stratosphere," she whispered.
Stark stopped, as if they didn't have a room full of people waiting for them, and looked down at her. "You'll accept a gift from me, Kiri." He looked as if he were willing to stand there all day, if necessary, until she agreed.
"Stark," she tried again. "This is ridiculous. This is not where people like me shop." Much as it made her face burn to admit that here.
"Kiri. Do you really think it will be a hardship for me to give you a few pieces of well-made clothing?"
Considering the place he lived and the cruiser he flew around in, no. A cruiser which had left them here and would not be back until he summoned it, and his look said clearly that would not happen until he got his way.
She shook her head, resigned.
He slipped his hand behind the small of her back to tow her forward.
"Haassea," he smiled warmly at the female in charge, a beautiful Serpentian with auburn hair sleeked back from her face. "This is Kiri Te Nawa. I'd like you to use your expertise to provide her with some new ensembles."
As Kiri tensed, he smoothed his hand down the curve of her ass, just enough to send a frisson of sensual awareness curling through her. The man was a master at diversion.
"Kiri, this is Haassea, a friend of mine. She'll take good care of you."
The Serpentian eyed Kiri with an avaricious gleam. "I certainly will, Logan. She's quite lovely."
"She also has excellent hearing." Kiri's cheeks were hot—she felt as out of place as a raven in a cage of Pangaean song birds.
Haassea raised her brows at this, but her sloe eyes twinkled. "Of course. I beg your pardon, Kiri. It's not often we have a client who will be such pleasure to work with. Please come this way, and we'll find you some things you like."
Right. Kiri knew when someone was laying on the sales pitch, but the woman was good at it, she'd give her that.
Stark gave Kiri a little push, and she followed the Serpentian toward a doorway. The woman didn't walk, she undulated with a sinuous grace that Kiri knew she couldn't emulate if she practiced for a year.
Inside a long room lined with doorways and mirrors, Haassea gestured Kiri regally to a settee. A young Serpentian girl in a white smock poured her a cup of steaming tea. There was a dish of dark squares on the tray as well. They looked very intriguing.
"Bring me gold and blush pink," Haassea said, waving the two young women who had followed them on their way.
"I don't wear pink," Kiri said. "I like … gray."
Haassea shook her head chidingly. "No, no. That's his signature color. We want you to stand out, to gleam like a pearl in the oyster. Red, I think, but that's for later, once we've … buffed you a bit."
Kiri wasn't sure she wanted to be buffed. "I just need something else to wear, that's all."
Giving into temptation, she took one of the thin, dark squares and slipped it into her mouth. Dark, rich flavor exploded on her tongue. She nearly moaned. "Is this …?"
"Chocolate." The Serpentian offered the dish to Kiri. "Lovely, isn't it?"
Her mouth full again, Kiri nodded.
Chocolate was available only for those who could pay the astronomical prices. She hadn't tasted it since she was a girl. The flavor teased at her memory, a slim woman laughing as she handed Kiri a baked treat laced with tiny bits of chocolate. Her mother.
She took another drink of hot tea, easing the constriction in her throat she always got when she thought about the happy times before. Before what, she refused to think about. Not now. Oh, please, please not now. She hadn't had a flashback at the port police authority, so why now?
Being herded through that police station, hands pushing her this way and that, voices echoing over her head while the explosions and cries echoed through her head, and their blood stained her skin and her clothing … 'What did you see? What did you hear? Do you know who did this?' And the memories exploding in her mind, too much to bear, too much to speak of.
Her tea cup trembled in her hand. With a supreme effort, Kiri brought herself back to the elegant shop. She focused on the treats. That chocolate wouldn't have been as dark as this, nor had the edge of pepper. This was definitely an adult treat. She hesitated and then grabbed another, not caring if she appeared greedy.
She closed her eyes as the chocolate melted in her mouth, the sweet richness coating her tongue, the fumes rising to fill her nostrils, consuming her senses, driving away the fear-sweat and the residue of hopelessness that hung around a police station. Then she took another drink of tea.
When she peered warily at her hostess, the Serpentian was waiting with a slight, serene smile as if she had all the time in the world for a client who slipped off into a private black hole. Kiri eyed her for clues, wondering how long she'd been out this time. She hadn't zoned out for a long time, not for over a year.
"A hair cut, definitely." Haassea mused, her soft voice breaking the silence. "Of course you haven't time for our full spa treatment today, so we'll just do one or two nice things for you, hmm? Then you can try a few ensembles."
That sounded safe. Do-able. Nodding, Kiri finished her tea and rose to follow Haassea back into the mysterious depths of her domain.
"I know what Stark likes," the woman added.
Kiri nearly stumbled. That's right, she was only one in a long line of women for him. No one special, just an attractive face and body.
Didn't bother her, not a bit. She was only here because her choices were limited to this or being at her kiosk. Wasn't because she believed his fancy talk about how he wanted her so much.
Chapter 10
Stark watched Kiri walk away and then turned to the slender Barillian who waited, her skull pipes shaded with same delicate rose hues as her eyes, to complement her lavender skin. "One of your private rooms, please."
"Certainly, sir," she replied in a fluting voice, characteristic of her race.
He followed the young woman to a comfortable room with a desk, work station and a leather chairs, done in somewhat darker shades of Maitresse's signature pale hues.
"Coffee or tea, sir?'
"Coffee, black." Stark sat down at the work station and used his comlink to bring up his private com network.
The Barillian brought him a tray with a carafe, mug and a plate of chocolates.
"Thank you." He chose one of the thin chocolates, knowing it would be his favorite, dark chocolate filled with strong mint.
It gave him a deep sense of satisfaction to bring his women here, not only to please them, but because he could.
He would never forget coming off shift from his first steady job in a cerametals factory, slaving all night in hellish din and heat and stink of chemicals. He and his fellow laborers had emerged into an unusually clear morning. He'd squinted up into the sunlight. Far above the dirt and strife of the streets and factories, a skyscraper gleamed like a spire in the sky.
He'd sworn then that one day he'd own one of those for himself. He and his brothers would live in it, warm and clean, with more food than they could ever eat. Perched high above all their fear and want like the ravens that perched on rooftops to croak their disdain at the humans toiling below. The ravens were survivors. So was he.
He'd done as he vowed. Creed and Joran might not live in one of his high rises or shop in places like this, but they could if they chose to. And so could his women.
Haassea and her staff had a way of pampering wealthy females of many planets while steering them toward purchases and services that promoted the boutique's reputation of bringing out a female's best. The owner didn't always take care of clients personally anymore.
He couldn't wait to see how she polished his sleek little cat. She needed petting and pampering. When she was escorted into the private room at the spaceport police headquarters, she'd been a pale, hollow-eyed shell of the vibrant woman he'd met the day before.
Hardly surprising. A lesser woman would have crumbled under such sustained battering. He shook his head, chuckling at the memory of her plan to face down the media and the curious, and demand they pay for access to her. She'd no doubt have done it, too.
Kiri was a fighter and he respected her for it. He had no use for the weak, men or women. Children, he used his power to protect, and those adults who were willing to work. Anyone who sat and whined about how they must be taken care of, he ignored. He'd begun to build his empire when he was only fifteen years old; others could work for at least their own survival.
The door hissed open, and Haassea sauntered in.
"Logan." She smiled at him. Stark smiled back as he crossed the room to her.
He bent to kiss her cheek, and she returned the greeting, her musky perfume slithering through his senses. She slipped her arm through his, pressing her soft breasts against him.
"Do you have everything you need?"
"Yes, as usual your staff is taking very good care of me." Stark stepped back, reaching for his coffee. "As they will Kiri, I'm sure."
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 84
