The Debt Collector (Season Two)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  “I have some business to take care of,” I say coolly. “I won’t be in the office for a while.” Possibly ever again, but obviously I can’t say anything to that effect. “This deal is time critical, however, and needs to go through before I can get back to oversee it myself.” And hopefully it will be a deal Wyatt can reverse after I’m gone. Or at least squelch the technology in-house. In fact, bringing life energy technologies into the company with the intent of burying them is a remarkably appealing strategy. My father would never have approved: he would never give the appearance of working with life energy tech, even if it helped the cause. He was too busy fighting the fight on moral grounds.

  But he’s dead now.

  I suppose that’s one way my father and I have always been different: from the moment I discovered I was a collector, I’ve had a bare palm right up against the seedy underbelly of this city. I’ve been intimately tied to the life energy trades in a way my father never could and never would. And now… now I’m getting my hands dirty, at least temporarily, to stop the plot against Lifetime. My father wouldn’t approve of my choice—he wouldn’t have approved of me—but in the end, I’ll be dying for the cause just the same. Just like him. Only I’ll have stopped some of Gehenna’s plans along the way

  Daniels is eyeing me, trying to figure out what I’m up to, but he can’t possibly guess. “Your father would not have agreed to this deal,” he says, carefully. “In all honesty, the Board is going to wonder what the hell I’m doing.”

  I return his steady gaze. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem convincing the Board to bring this tech in-house.” I tap up another document on my palm screen and hold it up for him. “I’ve prepared a statement for you. It says I want you to execute this deal and includes authorization to trade a set number of my Sterling shares to bring Akulife in-house. I’ve authorized enough to allow a premium over the expected price-to-earnings valuation. I’m sure Akulife will be willing to make the deal, regardless. So if you’re smart, Daniels, you’ll bargain them down from the premium. Then you and the Board can simply split the difference.”

  I’m bribing him, straight-out. And it’s a bribe he can’t possibly resist: more shares of Sterling which simultaneously weaken my holdings.

  He frowns and slowly touches his palm to mine, transferring the information. Then he leans away like my crazy might be contagious.

  “I’m not sure what’s happened to you, Alexa. I know your father’s death has been difficult. It’s been hard on all of us—” He’s tiptoeing around it, but he’s clearly back to thinking I’m mentally unbalanced. I would have to be, to offer this deal.

  But I don’t have time for his second guessing. “You can share your theories about my mental health with the board,” I say dryly. “Just tell me you can execute this deal.” I harden my glare. “Because if you can’t, I have no qualms about going to one of the Board members and having them negotiate it for me instead.”

  He stops paging through the tender offer I just transferred to his palm screen and looks up sharply. If I go around him to the Board, especially with something like this, he knows that will signal my lack of confidence in him… which means he’ll soon need a new job.

  “I can take care of it, Ms. Sterling.” His voice is all business now.

  “That’s what I want to hear.” I turn my back on him and march around his desk. When I reach his door, I throw over my shoulder, “Time critical, Daniels. Message me when you’ve completed the deal.”

  “Understood,” he says, but I’m already halfway out of his office.

  I tap up my palm screen. Ten minutes gone—twenty to go until Zachariel comes looking for me.

  I hurry toward the elevator as fast I can in corporate-ready heels.

  I scan into the lab in Sterling’s basement. My headlong rush draws the attention of the cyberneticians at their stations, but I stall out when I don’t see Jax anywhere. I try to affect a more casual pace as I stroll towards Miral’s clean room in back. A few whispers follow me, but no one moves. I linger by the clean suits, then pull out my screen to check for messages.

  On my way. ETA 15.

  Relief makes my knees weak. Now I just need to find some reasonable excuse to hang out in the basement until Jax arrives. I don’t want to actually enter Miral’s lab—for a number of reasons—so I focus on the hand-held. I bring up a doc and type in what I know: Gehenna’s operations in Sacramento, the slashers who set up Lifetime to take the fall for their tampered government records, and an explanation of all my bad acts.

  It reads like a suicide note.

  If Jax can find a way to stop the plot against Lifetime without tying it back to me, then I might get out of this with all my life energy. If not, so be it. If nothing else, Jax can use the doc to unwind what’s happened and handle things from there.

  “What are you doing?”

  Miral’s rasping voice startles me so bad, I almost drop the hand-held.

  “Miral.” I stuff the screen in my pocket. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  She’s decked out in her bunny suit. One gloved hand holds a bag, the other some kind of fleshy prosthetic. It’s possibly one of her biosculpting projects.

  “Sneak?” she says, affronted. “That is quite a word for you to use.”

  “M, please.” A scolding from Miral threatens to surge up emotion I can’t afford right now. “I’m having a hard week, okay?”

  She squints at me with a look so intense, I expect her to slide her telescopic goggles down to examine me. “So you’re back, then.” It’s not a question, and frankly, I’m relieved. “I suppose you’re here for your suit.”

  “My suit?”

  “The one you wanted the enhancements for?” Her voice has cooled, but she hands me the bag. My suit is puddled at the bottom. “Although I suppose you’ve been too busy in Sacramento to bother with jumping off buildings.”

  I cringe. “I know it looks bad. And there are other things that will probably look worse—”

  “Other things?” Anger starts to splotch her creamy brown skin.

  “I don’t have time to explain—” I stop when I hear the click and hiss of the door at the far end of the lab. I think I’m saved, but it’s not Jax. It’s Wyatt.

  Shit.

  I should have known one of his damn alerts would have ratted out my return. He’s like a hurricane moving across the open space between the workbenches, full of fury and dragging all the attention of the room in his wake. I decide to meet him halfway rather than letting him make landfall. I can’t take him and Miral tag-teaming me right now. And he needs to leave—I don’t want him here when Jax shows. I march up to him, and it works: he slows and meets me dead center in the lab. I’m about to make a spectacle, and it pains me in the worst way—a deep-inside hurt that is going to leave scars. Probably in both of us.

  I grit my teeth and do it anyway. “If I wanted to see you, Wyatt, I would have messaged ahead.”

  He’s aghast, but it derails whatever tirade he was going to launch. He struggles for words for a half second, then retorts, “Well, excuse me for wanting to make sure you’re not dead.”

  My eyelid twitches, but I press on. “Just because I’m not returning your messages—”

  But he’s already recovered and gone on the offensive. “I’m not going to quit, Lexy.”

  “I… um… okay.”

  “I refuse to quit.” He says it loudly, like it’s a declaration for the entire lab. We certainly have their attention. “You can’t drive me out with this… business you’re doing. You’re going to have to fire me.”

  I bite my lip. I can’t fire Wyatt, even though part of me wants to set him loose from this entire enterprise. Get him clear of Moloch and Gehenna, so they’ll never have a reason to go after him. Even having Wyatt in the basement when Zachariel is waiting for me in the lobby is making me break out into a cold sweat. Then I realize: after I’m gone, Wyatt will be their next target.

  He needs to know what to expect.

&
nbsp; I drop my voice and step closer to him, trying to reel this back in to just the two of us. “I can explain everything—”

  “Well, that should be entertaining.” His voice is still for our onlookers.

  I take him by the hand, which disarms him, then tug him toward the front. He frowns but doesn’t fight me. Miral has disappeared back into her lab, and the cyberneticians are ducking their heads, pretending they weren’t staring just a moment ago. I drag Wyatt out of the lab and into the small space between the double-doored security. The access door only needs a code, but the door to the lab requires a retinal scan—meeting Jax in between will save time. I just need to get rid of Wyatt. So, as soon as the door to the lab closes, I kiss him.

  He’s startled but quickly leans into it. I meant it as a way to short-circuit his complaints, but it quickly escalates into something more. Something that speaks to the craving inside me. I almost trickle life energy into him before I remember this isn’t that kind of kiss. But this might be the last chance to show him how I really feel. The bag with my suit slips from my fingers, and I grasp onto his shoulders, consuming him like the world is ending tomorrow.

  I pull back, breathless.

  The torment on his face makes me wish I hadn’t stopped. “Lexy, what the hell is going on?”

  His voice is soft. I’m still touching him, one hand on his chest, the other on his face. I blink, surprised at my own lack of fear about that.

  “Do you trust me?” It’s a wild, insane leap of faith I’m asking for. I expect him to throw it back in my face.

  Instead, his expression just twists up more. “You’re making it very hard.”

  “I know.” I nod, a flurry of small up and down motions. “I know it’s bad. Horrible. But I’m doing something here that… you’ll understand later. I promise.”

  His eyes narrow. “What do you mean later?”

  “I mean, I don’t have time to explain it now. In fact…” I step back from him. “I really need you to leave, Wyatt. Right now. There are some things I have to do, and I need you to leave—”

  “Lexy! I’m not leaving,” he says. “Tell me what’s going on. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  I bite my lip and glance out the small window in the access door, hoping Jax will extricate me from this, even at the cost of bringing her and Wyatt together. Jax is savvy enough not to spill everything. As I’m formulating something to get Wyatt to leave, a figure emerges from the elevators outside the door. For a split second, I think it’s one of the board members or someone from the exec suite… but then the tall, dark-haired man looks up from his palm screen.

  Zachariel.

  My heart seizes. I grab Wyatt’s arm and drag him off to the side of the door, but we can’t really get out of view—the double-door access space just isn’t that big.

  “What in the—” Wyatt leans over to peer out the window.

  “Wyatt!” I hiss, pulling him back. Zachariel needs an access code to get in, but I have mere seconds before that happens. He’s already made it to the basement, which means he fabricated an identity, somehow got past security… I don’t have time to think about that now.

  “Who is that guy?” Wyatt asks, fully alert to the fact that I’m freaking out about Zachariel about to breach the lab. With Wyatt right here.

  I fumble to get the hand-held from Daniels out of my pocket. I almost drop it as I unlock the security and tap up the doc. Then I shove it in Wyatt’s suit pocket.

  “Take that and go.” I try to keep my voice low, in case the doors aren’t as soundproof as I’d like. I practically leap over to the retinal scanner to gain access to the interior of the lab.

  “What are you doing?” Wyatt asks, but the alarm in his voice has stepped up several levels.

  “Please, Wyatt,” I say as the door to the interior lab slides open. “Everything’s on the hand-held. Just go and… and… be safe.”

  “Be safe?” He’s throwing hostile looks between me and Zachariel at the window. Zachariel’s looking down—which means he’s slashing his way in.

  I grab Wyatt’s arm and try to shove him through the doorway to the lab. “Go talk to Miral,” I say, desperately. “She knows everything.” A total lie. But it might get Wyatt moving. And maybe the two of them working together can find a way to save Lifetime. It’s all I can do at this point. And it’s the only hope I have of Wyatt not landing under Zachariel’s palm in the next ten seconds. My shove has Wyatt stumbling backward over the threshold. I slam my fist on the button to shut the door.

  At the same time, the access door opens, and Zachariel lurches inside. He looks around and quickly sees Wyatt is gone. My bewildered assistant could easily punch the button and come back out of the lab… but Zachariel can’t get in without my retinal scan. Which I’m not going to do. No matter what. He could slash in, but not before I stop him with my palm.

  I straighten and calmly tap up my screen. There’s a slight quiver in my hand that I try ignore.

  I coolly meet Zachariel’s stare. “You barely gave me thirty minutes.”

  “It was only twenty-five.” He narrows his eyes. “You were supposed to be in the exec suite, not the basement.”

  I suck in a breath and scoop up Miral’s bag from the floor. “Just picking up my suit.” My heart is thudding erratically in my chest, but I’m proud the quiver in my hand is gone.

  He cocks an eyebrow. “That’s possibly the least believable lie I’ve ever heard you tell.” He stares into my eyes for a long moment, then glances at the closed door to the lab. “But it’s a plausible one. Moloch probably won’t believe it, but then maybe if you model the suit for him, he won’t care.”

  Zachariel’s going to lie for me. Again. It makes me want to tell him everything. But I don’t.

  “So… I guess we’re done here,” I say, striding through the access doorway, which is still open, and heading for the elevator.

  Zachariel follows me out. “Are we, Wraith?” I think he’s asking about more than my Gehenna-directed mission here, but I choose to ignore it.

  “If I know the CEO, he’s already sent a tender offer to Akulife.” I tap the button for the elevator. “It’s up to Moloch to make sure they accept.”

  “I’m sure they will.” He crosses his arms as we wait for the elevator. “Your friends here will be safer the less you have to do with them.” He’s watching the numbers as they tick down to the basement level.

  “I don’t have any friends here.”

  Zachariel gives me a sideways look. “You need to up your game on the lying, Wraith. Moloch will use it against you.”

  I press my lips together, afraid any retort will only get me in more trouble.

  The elevator dings and slides open. It takes everything I have to step aside and let Jax come out without showing any sign of recognition. She’s decked out in her typical brown trenchcoat and looks laughably out of place in the basement of Sterling Cybernetics. But she’s a mob-connected fixer, which means she’s a pro. With a quick but coolly casual glance at us both, she strides out of the elevator and toward the lab door. Zachariel watches her with a questioning look, but he steps into the elevator without saying a word.

  I keep my gaze glued to the panel displaying the floor number.

  After the elevator doors close, he says, “I didn’t think Sterling used debt collectors in their research.”

  I restrain the smile that goes with his assumption that Jax is a secret debt collector, like the two corporate suits riding in the elevator.

  I glance at him. “You can’t judge a woman by her trenchcoat.”

  He smirks. “Well, that’s the first true thing you’ve said today.”

  It almost makes me smile. Then I contemplate the fact that Jax, Miral, and Wyatt are about to meet without me—along with the certainty that all my lies, carefully constructed to keep the two sides of my life apart, are about to be irrevocably blown apart. Only I won’t be there to see it… because I’m returning to the people who will end my life as soon as they
figure out what I’ve done.

  Zachariel hails a taxi to take us to our next destination, presumably wherever Moloch stays when he’s in LA. Our cab coasts through the heart of downtown, still near the cluster of gleaming towers that house Sterling Cybernetics, the Lifelong Medical Complex, and a host of other cybernetics and life energy companies that comprise the industry… including the startup, Akulife, that I’ve just orchestrated a buyout for. That deal could take hours or days to enact—all depends on how eager Daniels is to get his hands on my shares, as well as how much influence Moloch has in making the deal go through from Akulife’s side.

  While I can still see the Sterling tower from here, the buildings we’re passing slowly shrink in size and glamour. We’re winding through the part of LA where shuttered businesses show up with increasing frequency, like lesions on the body of the city.

  The cab driver stops outside a storefront, the inside of which glints with a thousand reflected points of light. I blink and realize that it’s filled with mirrors: they catch the few rays of afternoon sun that punch through the foul air and throw them back outside.

  A place of haze and mirrors for a Gehenna hideout? Whatever this is, we’ve arrived.

  “No blindfold again?” I ask Zachariel as he leans forward to pay the cabbie.

  “I almost wish you did have one.” He throws open his door, and a pungent surge of smog-filled air wafts in. I scoot along the seat to follow him out of the cab, still carrying my bag with my collector suit.

  Once the cab pulls away, Zachariel faces me. “You’re not in the club yet, Alexandra. The fact that Moloch is letting you see where we operate means there are really only two options for you: become a member or become dead. As I’ve said from the beginning, I prefer the first option for you.”

  “Why is that, exactly?” I glance at the shop of mirrors. In between the eye-piercing glints, it appears empty.

  Zachariel studies it as well, then bites his lip, like he wants to tell me something, but can’t quite figure a way to do it. “Let’s just say it serves my interests better.”