Spy to Die For ag-2

by Kris Delake

  The sentence had barely come out of her mouth when her breath caught. Whoa. She had been paying attention, and she had still said too much in that simple response. You want to find Skye on Krell? Go to the Starcatcher. She’s traveled all over the sector, eaten burgers all over the sector, and she comes here as often as she can.

  You want to find Skye anywhere? Burger joints.

  She grabbed the burger off the plate and squished the bun against the meat. The bacon curved upward. She was going to pretend that she hadn’t just revealed a ton of stuff about herself, pretend that her lack of caution didn’t bother her, pretend that she was just an average woman flirting with an average (if tall) man.

  He didn’t seem to notice any of the revelations. Or if he did, he didn’t seem to care.

  Which was exactly what she would have done if she had just learned something important.

  She mentally kicked herself. She was acting like an untrained rookie, and she knew it.

  She just didn’t know how to stop.

  Check that: she knew how to stop. She had never acted like this, not even as an untrained rookie. But then, she had never met a man whose sheer attractiveness had fritzed out her brain before.

  He was looking at her in pleased puzzlement. “You know,” he said, “I have never met a woman who likes to eat here before.”

  Skye didn’t believe that for an instant. Her heart sank just a bit. Was he exaggerating? Making conversation? And why should it matter if he was?

  She really wanted him to be as attracted to her as she was to him. That’s why.

  “Delores likes to eat here,” Skye said, deciding to go for the banter after all.

  He mock-frowned, and shook his head. “Delores doesn’t eat here. Are you kidding? She knows what goes into the food.”

  His eyes were twinkling, and suddenly Skye understood. He was deliberately playing with her, because she was holding her burger but hadn’t eaten it. He was trying to put her off her food, maybe to see how far her own bravado went.

  She tilted the burger at him, then slowly eased it into her mouth. Juice dripped onto her tongue and lips, and some ran down her chin. So much for being provocative and sexy. Now she was just going for the teenage gross-out.

  And since she was committed, she went all the way with it. She took the biggest bite she could and savored that burger. There was a lot to savor: the charred meat (she still wouldn’t say categorically that it was real hamburger), the cheese (which, despite its bright orange color, was real), the squishy bacon (could also be fake), and all those unidentifiable (and a tad too crunchy) other things hidden inside that bun.

  Jack watched her eat as if he’d never seen anyone eat before. Maybe he expected her to gag and grimace. Instead she chewed slowly, her stomach growling. She really had been hungry, and she really had wanted this burger.

  She didn’t even set it down all the way, although she did shift it to one hand as she groped for the napkin to clean off her chin.

  He handed her a folded napkin. She could see the stains on its surface, and wondered when it had last been washed. If it had been washed. For all she knew, the Starcatcher simply refolded the napkins before putting them on the table, tossing them when they started feeling too crusty.

  Not even that thought bothered her enough to stop cleaning the burger juice off her chin.

  She’d helped assassins hide dead bodies, hidden in garbage scows to get information for the Guild, spent a month on a cargo ship with barely enough water to drink and certainly not enough to bathe in. It would take more than a filthy napkin and some hamburger juice to gross her out.

  “Good?” he asked.

  “Goo,” she replied, nodding, her mouth filled with the second bite.

  He grinned. “You’re not like any other woman I’ve ever met.”

  She sure hoped he meant that as a compliment. But she was too busy devouring that burger to ask.

  Then Delores showed up with his burger. It was taller than hers—the extra bacon, probably—and the cheese looked like an orange patty all by itself. He thanked her and tossed her a credit chip, something Skye hadn’t seen in years. She didn’t think anyone used credit chips anymore. How old-fashioned of him. Or maybe he was just cautious.

  Delores pocketed her chip and said, “You got fifteen minutes, or we’ll lock you in.”

  He hadn’t taken a bite yet. “Special soda, and I’ll give you another chip.”

  “No,” she said. “I mean it. I’ve been working thirty-six hours straight, and I’m done with you people for the next forty-eight.”

  Then she stalked off.

  Skye set down the remaining section of her burger and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The back of her hand had to be cleaner than that damn napkin.

  “Sounds like she does mean it,” Skye said.

  “She does.” Jack took the top part of the bun off his burger and added condiments—multicolored condiments. She’d guess that they were ketchup or mustard or mayonnaise, but that was presuming too much.

  Besides, watching him do that made her stomach do a slow flip. She didn’t mind the filthy restaurant and the mystery substances on her fried/grilled/cooked burger. But those condiments might have been in those containers for a year and left completely untouched.

  He clearly noted her skeptical expression. “Don’t worry,” he said. “They’re as fake as the meat. There’s nothing in these condiments that can spoil.”

  “I don’t like to think that the meat is fake,” she said.

  “I don’t like to think that the meat is real,” he said. “Where do they get it out here?”

  That stopped her stomach from spinning. She’d grown up with budding assassins, for heaven’s sake. She knew how to gross out someone better than this Jack Hunter ever could.

  She finished her burger, even though she now felt like she was in an eating contest with him. He was going through his quickly, the condiments dripping off onto the plate and table.

  When she finished, she handed him the dirty napkin. He held it in one hand and finished feeding himself with the other. Then he wiped off his mouth with a flourish.

  “Two minutes to spare,” he said.

  She tapped a chip on the back of her hand, showing her the time. She hated the “useful” augmentations that put that stuff just inside the eye.

  He was right. They had two minutes to spare, and they certainly weren’t going to spend that bussing tables. The only reason anyone bussed a table in this place was to have a place to sit down.

  “Amazing,” she said and then burped. So ladylike. Ah, well. She hadn’t acted politely since she met him; wasn’t time to start now. She didn’t even excuse herself.

  His grin grew, and his eyes twinkled. God, he had a pleasant face. She really liked that.

  “How about getting a drink?” he asked. “I still want that special soda.”

  She’d never had the local sweetwater, as a friend once called it. She had no idea how they made the special soda here on Krell, and she was afraid to find out that the stuff wasn’t boiled or sterilized or pasteurized or whatever the hell companies did to purify liquids way out here. Not that they’d want anyone to get sick here, but public safety regulations really weren’t Krell’s strong suit. That was one of the reasons why so many shady characters showed up here on such a regular basis.

  She counted herself as one of those shady characters.

  “A drink sounds good,” she said as she stood. She extended a hand to help him up and to her surprise, he took it. For a half second, she thought he was going to tower over her, but he hunched.

  “Good,” he said, not letting go of her hand. Instead, he used it to drag her out of this place. Did he actually believe Delores would lock them in?

  Perhaps he did. But then, he knew her better than Skye did.

  They made it outside—if, indeed, the concourse could be called “outside”—and the door locked behind them with an audible click. Skye turned slightly and saw Delores frowning
at her through the window.

  Jack still held her hand, but he hadn’t moved. Skye glanced at him and was startled when her gaze hit his torso.

  He had stood up. Upright. To his full height.

  Which, she had to admit, was impressive.

  The top of his head nearly bumped the concourse’s ceiling. She had thought he was tall before, but he was really tall. She had never seen a human in space who was that tall, bar none.

  She craned her neck, saw the elegant line of his throat and the underside of his chin. He had just a bit of growth. It gave him a rough, careless look. She suspected if he cleaned up a bit, he would be so handsome everyone would remember him.

  Not that they could forget his height.

  “How in the universe do you manage?” she asked him, her neck getting just a little sore from looking up at him.

  He was scanning the area—probably for open bars. “Manage what?”

  “This,” she said. “Space stations. Spaceships for that matter. Being out here, where everything is built for people like me.”

  He looked down on her. How many people had done that in the last few years? She could probably count them on one hand.

  It made her feel like she was on Kordita standing next to a tree.

  “It’s not so bad,” he said.

  “Not so bad?” she asked. “You have to watch your head all the time.”

  “As if that were possible,” he said with a smile. “I can’t see my head.”

  He went back to scanning.

  She got the message. He didn’t like talking about his height. Interesting. Well, everything about him was interesting. Everything. She squeezed his hand.

  “Drink?” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I suppose you want alcohol.”

  “I don’t care,” she said. “I generally avoid the stuff.”

  He looked down on her again, those blue eyes suddenly serious. “You like crusty Starcatcher burgers, you burp like a cargo jockey, and you don’t drink. What are you?”

  Her heart twisted a bit. She was always a surprise to people. She wondered if he no longer found her attractive. (Had he found her attractive? Or had she just imagined that? Still, he was holding her hand…)

  “I’m clearly not a girl, right?” she said. “Or at least one you’d find in polite company.”

  He chuckled. “Like there’s polite company on Krell.”

  “Good point,” she said.

  “Come on,” he said. “There should be a place across the way which, if I remember right, is open continually.”

  Then he dragged her forward and she went. She had to walk fast to keep up with him. That surprised her. They maneuvered around the open-air part of the restaurant, with its locked chairs, across the actual concourse to the other side, with its other open-air sections.

  Most of them were closed. The shops had locked up and so had the restaurants, but the bars were open.

  Three had revolving “open” signs in their windows, but only one had an open-air section. It was close to the exterior walls of the bar, and there were only a few tables, but she knew that Jack would choose to sit there.

  And she couldn’t blame him. He didn’t have to worry about hitting his head.

  There was one available table, but she had a hunch it wouldn’t be available for long. She squeezed his hand and said, “You get the table, I’ll get the drinks.”

  Then she slipped her hand from his and pushed her way inside the bar.

  It was crowded and smelled of beer. The actual bar itself had a self-serve section, and she was grateful. People pushed against her, talking, laughing, trying to find room to stand.

  She glanced out the door. He had gotten the table and was watching her.

  Her heart pounded. When was the last time she had been this impulsive?

  When was the last time she had had fun?

  She couldn’t remember.

  She smiled at him, then turned to the bar and ordered their drinks.

  Chapter 2

  She was beautiful. Jack had to give her that. The mysterious and forceful Skye was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen—and he had seen a lot of beautiful women.

  She negotiated her way through the crowd inside the bar, working her way to the self-serve section. She looked tall in there next to all the space jockeys. Tall, and thin, and stunning.

  She wasn’t tall. She was, in fact, a tiny little thing. Her hand had felt fragile in his.

  Her black hair was cut short around her head, forming a cap around her face. She could hide behind that wedge of hair if she had to. Her eyes were as black as her hair, blacker maybe, like pieces of space that starlight couldn’t reach.

  Yes, he was waxing poetic over a woman he had just met. And yes, it scared him.

  He tried to ignore women whenever possible. They were trouble. But this woman was impossible to ignore.

  She came out of the bar holding a drink in each hand. She had gotten something yellow and fizzy. He had gotten the special soda, which was just root beer, made with both wintergreen and real cherry tree bark that got shipped in.

  Or maybe the combination of all the artificial flavors mixed just right. Maybe it was all hype. Whatever the case, he liked the special soda on Krell almost as much as he liked the Starcatcher’s burgers. Less than he already liked this woman.

  Whose last name he didn’t know.

  She set the drinks down in front of him then climbed into a chair. It was noisy here, with the conversation inside and out, plus some pounding music that he didn’t recognize.

  “Not good for talking,” he said.

  “Then why talk?” she asked and leaned forward.

  Before he knew what had happened, she kissed him. Her lips were warm and firm. She hesitated for just a minute, as if asking his permission.

  He thought about pulling away—he couldn’t remember the last relationship he’d had (well, he could, and he didn’t want to think about it)—but he waited too long. Besides, his mouth opened slightly, and she took advantage of it, her tongue sliding in and exploring his.

  She tasted like lemon, and he realized she had taken a sip of her fizzy drink. Then he stopped analyzing and just kissed her back. Somehow his hand left the table and cupped that wedge of soft black hair, somehow his other hand caught her shoulder and pulled her just a bit forward, somehow he leaned in so hard the table slid aside.

  Her hands cupped his cheeks, holding him in place. The kiss took forever—a good forever—the kind of forever in which time slowed down and each second felt like an hour. He savored the feel of her, the taste of her, the way she threw herself into the kiss, just like she had thrown herself into that burger.

  He had never been kissed like that, not once in all of his thirty-two years, and then, suddenly, it was over.

  “Wow,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “Screw the drink. You want to see if you fit in my room?”

  At first, he wasn’t sure if he heard her right. She didn’t seem like the kind of woman who propositioned a man after an hour’s conversation. Then he realized he didn’t know what kind of woman did that. He had assumptions, and apparently she didn’t fit into them.

  He swallowed, still tasting her, not sure how to respond. Her room? Here?

  She sighed and shook her head slightly. “I surprised you.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “And you’re probably involved with someone.”

  “No.” He sounded stunned. He probably looked stunned too. No woman had ever done this to him before, not so fast, not—at least—without one of his friends behind it all or as part of a job (her job). Hookers weren’t uncommon on space stations like this, but then, hookers almost never looked like Skye. At least, not on space stations like this.

  “And you’ve got scruples or something,” she said, the light going out of her eyes.

  “Um, yeah, I mean, no, I mean—ah hell.” He didn’t know what he meant. He didn’t know what she meant.

  �
��Look,” she said, leaning toward him, her elbow on the table, her hand dropping down dangerously close to his thigh. “I travel a lot. I spend a ton of time alone. I’ve learned to take things when they present themselves. You presented yourself, and I thought—well, you know what I thought. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “You didn’t,” he managed. “Insult me, that is.”

  She raised her head, looking surprised.

  “You startled me.” He didn’t want to admit that no woman had ever come onto him like this before—at least, not since his early years, after he left Tranquility House, the horribly misnamed government home for orphaned and abandoned children that he had gotten stuck in. During those post-Tranquility years, there had been a lot of drinking and a lot of posturing and a lot of morning-after regrets.

  He couldn’t drink now, not with his job, not the way things were—not that he’d ever enjoyed it—and he hadn’t put himself in a position to be around interesting women in a long, long time, and even then—

  “Ah, hell. I just…” There it was, the near-admission. He didn’t want her to know that other women never found him this attractive. “I just wasn’t thinking…”

  “I hope you weren’t,” she said with a tentative smile.

  He smiled back. “I mean, I—we—were flirting, and I thought it wouldn’t go beyond that.”

  “Because you have someone back home, wherever home is. Because you don’t travel much. Because you’re worried that this’ll get back to her, and you’ll get in trouble, and—”

  “No,” he said. “I travel a lot.”

  Why he responded to that, he’d never know. He could have objected to anything that she said. It was all wrong.

  “Then you understand that sometimes you just have to take the leap because you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” she said.

  “I’m a leap?” His brain was still working sluggishly from that kiss.

  She grinned. “Yeah. You’re a leap. One I’d love to try.”

  His cheeks warmed.

  “The universe is a big place, and we probably will never get this chance again. I’m not asking to go to your place. Hell, I’m not even asking what you do. If you don’t want to go to my room, we can get one for both of us. I’ll even pay…”