by Pegau, Cathy
“Sasha,” she whispered.
Sasha leaned closer.
Kylie’s cinnamon-and-citrus-scented breath warmed her ear. “Help me.”
Chapter Eleven
The audible and visual alarms went off simultaneously on Sterling’s comm indicating Sasha’s vital signs had soared. Heart racing, his feet hit the floor as he read the data streaming in red across the screen: pulse spiked; BP, respiration and body temp on the rise.
Shit.
He stabbed the silence icon with a finger, grabbed his pulser from the lockbox hidden at the bottom of the painted chest and bolted to the door for his jacket. Comm clenched in his hand, Sterling ran down the stairs without bothering to lock his room. He had rented the entire floor, so no one should be near his stuff. There was nothing incriminating or valuable in that little hole to worry about anyway. Into the alley and out on the street, he unlocked the car and fired up the engine by remote.
Sterling set the pulser and comm down on the seat beside him, the red data messages blinking in accusation, as he accelerated from the curb. He shouldn’t have let her go with Christiansen. Or he should have followed earlier.
Well, he was following now.
Another audible signal drew his attention from the street. Sasha’s vitals had returned to within normal range. Elevated, but normal. What the hell was happening there?
A warning blare, and Sterling jerked the controls. The oncoming ground car hissed past, the horn Dopplering and fading. He focused on the wet road. No sense in getting himself or someone else killed. But as he raced toward the outskirts of town, toward Christiansen’s estate, his gaze drifted to the comm screen. Heart rate somewhat high but still within norms.
What he would do once he arrived, he had no idea. Call upon Christiansen about some bogus issue with the Kettrick deal? Claim he needed to see Sasha because of a personal emergency? Nothing sounded plausible. Sensibility slowly wound its way back into his brain.
Sterling glanced at the screen, at the normal, steady readings. Something had caused Sasha’s vitals to spike, but whatever it was, she was fine now. Busting in on her and Christiansen might alleviate his worry, but it could blow his chance of getting Kylie out. How could he explain his arrival at the house? Christiansen would wonder about his relationship with Sasha. If he suspected more than a business deal, not only was Sterling at risk, so were Sasha and Kylie.
Half a kilometer from Christiansen’s gate, Sterling pulled off the road and cut the engine. His vision adjusted to the dim light given off by a street lamp and the occasional passing vehicle. Though he knew it was a futile effort, he focused his false eye in the direction of Christiansen’s house and magnified. Imported trees surrounded the properties along the road. Historically, this part of Nevarro was a sweeping plain of scrub grasses and low, rolling hills. If it hadn’t been for its richness of keracite, the barely hospitable planet would have been passed over by the probes and survey teams. Now keracite and amber led its economic sustainability, allowing people like Christiansen to prosper.
Christiansen had landscaped his estate with the largest, heartiest trees that could thrive in the metal-rich soil. Privacy was expensive, but it was worth it to the drug dealer.
Grabbing the comm, Sterling got out, slammed the car door and paced along the side of the vehicle. The frigid wind tore at his coat, flapping the blue wool about his legs, and snow swirled at his feet. His boots crunched on icy grit.
Pacing and freezing and staring at numbers wouldn’t help him see what Sasha was up to, but at least he was closer. If something else caused her alarm, if he suspected anything dangerous was happening, he’d ram the car through Christiansen’s damn gate to get her and Kylie out.
If Christiansen didn’t kill him first.
* * *
Sasha’s heart thrummed hard in her chest, her pulse beating in her ears. She gripped Kylie’s hand, steadying her own trembling ones while she hoped to convey assurance to the girl. “That’s why I’m here, to help.”
“Help me,” Kylie repeated as if she hadn’t heard Sasha. “Please.”
She struggled to sit up. Sasha slid off the lounger to make room for Kylie’s legs to swing to the ground. Still holding her hand, Sasha peered into her blue eyes as they attempted to focus. She recognized that look, had seen it in the mirror more than once.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Sasha said.
Kylie nodded, and Sasha helped her to her feet.
“What’s wrong?” Jillian asked.
Sasha looked over Kylie’s shoulder and gave a wan smile. “She’s feeling a little sick. I’ll take her to her room.”
Jillian frowned. “There are people for that. I’ll call someone—”
“I don’t mind,” Sasha said as she wedged her shoulder under Kylie’s arm. “Come on.”
Sterling’s sister leaned heavily on her, bare feet dragging across the textured tiles of the pool deck. Sasha didn’t think to grab the towel to cover the girl. No one in Guy’s circle ever seemed disturbed by full or partial nudity, even if it made Sasha feel awkward these days. Funny how a few years of rehab drab and Revivalist garb made you self-conscious of your body.
“Oh, God,” Kylie said as they entered the color-changing hall to the conservatory. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“Close your eyes or stare at the floor,” Sasha said. “It’ll help if you can’t see it.”
Kylie nodded, and Sasha led her through to the humid gardens. Amber affected everyone a little differently, but Kylie must have taken a hit worthy of a Bidarki mammoth to feel this ill so quickly.
“It’s hot,” Kylie said, her eyes squeezed closed.
“We’re in the conservatory. Just hang on. We’ll be out in a minute.” Hopefully the heat and humidity wouldn’t make her puke.
Kylie was walking a little better, so Sasha didn’t have to bear as much of her weight. She did tend to weave, and sometimes resisted Sasha’s guidance. Not that she meant to, Sasha figured, but coming down from an amber high could play havoc with equilibrium. With all the negative effects of the drug, she wondered why anyone—including herself, once upon a time—thought the temporary euphoria was worth it.
“Trust me.” Sasha steered them around a stone planter.
They navigated the paths successfully to the exit. Sasha pushed the door open and drew in a breath of cool air. Sweat chilled on her skin. Still holding Kylie, she dried her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “Better?” she asked as Kylie’s eyes opened to slits. She seemed steadier on her feet.
“Yeah, but I need to lie down.”
Sasha guided her down the hall to the elevator that led to the upper floors. Concealed behind a panel that blended with the wall, the door opened when Sasha tapped the appropriate spot. The compartment was large enough for five or six people, with a flat, black screen near the door. Icons on the screen offered the choice of floors.
“Where’s your room?”
“Second floor,” Kylie said. Her voice was a bit stronger, but she still leaned on Sasha.
The second and third floors were for guests and employees. Guy’s suite of rooms on the top floor was accessible by invitation only. Few ever saw the inside of his private office up there. The office on the main floor was for public appearances.
Sasha tapped the number two and waited. Nothing happened.
Kylie reached out with a shaking hand to press her thumb to the icon. “If you don’t live or work here, you can’t use the elevator.”
“That’s new,” Sasha said as the door closed.
“Jillian’s idea.” Kylie swallowed and licked her lips as the elevator rose. “She’s very security-conscious.”
“More like paranoid,” Sasha muttered.
The elevator came to a smooth stop, and the door opened on the middle of the short leg of a T-intersect
ion. There were three rooms on either side of the intersection. Along the long leg of the “T,” two rooms on either side of the hall with a shared lav between them. Sasha had stayed in one of the short hall rooms, when she wasn’t with Guy in his suite.
She guided Kylie down the hallway, the lush blue carpet muting their footfalls.
“Around the corner. Last on the left,” Kylie said.
This floor had nine bedrooms, and there were another six on the floor above, but the hall was quiet. Where was the music and laughter that filled the house during her time here? Eight or ten people were down at the pool, and a handful of employees—real employees who cared for the house and grounds—lived on the premises. Who else lived here? Maybe Guy had gotten tired of the endless party he hosted even when he wasn’t around. Having an entourage fueled his ego, but perhaps a few years of supporting a dozen people who gave nothing back had taken its toll on his generosity.
“I know Jillian is Guy’s designer and tech person,” she said as they reached Kylie’s room. Conversation might distract her from feeling ill, as well as provide useful information. “Do the rest of you work for Guy?” Sasha already knew why Kylie had been hired, but that information had come from Sterling, not Guy.
Kylie palmed the panel beside her door. “Billy is Jillian’s assistant. Maddie, Rhianna and I are part of his public relations team.”
If by “public relations” she meant attending Guy’s parties and making nice with the guests, as Sterling had reported.
“And you all live here?”
She nodded as the door swung open. “Jimmy and the others are only visiting for a few days. Guy’s sponsoring Jimmy’s return to competition.”
Sasha led her to the bed and flipped the covers back. “Lay down. Do you have anything that might help?”
“On the dresser.” Kylie slid under the blanket. “In the marble box.”
The blue marble container, about the size of Sasha’s hand, sat in the middle of typical feminine necessities—hair brush, bottles of perfume, jewelry. Its simple design and clean lines emphasized the value of the stone. A present from Guy, perhaps?
“Where did you get—” Sasha lifted the hinged lid and her breath caught.
A lump of amber as wide as her thumbnail rested on a bed of midnight-blue velvet. Half of the interior was carved into a shallow bowl, and a pestle lay in its own velvet-lined depression.
Sasha inhaled citrus and cinnamon and her hands trembled. She lowered the lid with a snap. “I was thinking more along the lines of medtabs.”
“No,” Kylie moaned from the bed. “That’ll make me feel better than some stupid medtabs.”
True, but Sasha couldn’t bring herself to touch the cool marble again. Especially if it meant contributing to Kylie’s addiction. That wasn’t why she was here.
Sasha turned away from the dresser. “I’ll check the lav for some tabs. You stay right there.”
Kylie groaned again, an arm flung over her eyes. She didn’t seem to be all that anxious to get out of bed. If Sasha hurried, she might be able to get medtabs into Kylie before she could self-medicate with amber.
Sasha entered the lav shared with the next room. Messier than the bedroom, the counter was littered with bottles and tubes, smeared with makeup and goo. Towels hung askew on the racks or lay heaped on the tile floor. The commode across from the sink and vanity was closed, as was the frosted-glass door beside it, which led to a shower stall. Sasha searched the drawers of the vanity, found a bubble-pack of the medication and filled a glass with cool water.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror and hesitated. Hair mussed, eyes on the wide and panicked side. She should have known Kylie would have a stash in her room. Should have known that was what the girl would ask for. Should have been prepared for it. Sasha took a long breath and released it slowly.
She returned to the room, her gaze on Kylie, determined not to look at the dresser. “Here. A couple of these will help.”
Sasha set the water on the bedside table and popped two tabs through the plastic package.
Her arm still draped over her eyes, Kylie turned her head away. “No. Get the box.”
“Come on,” Sasha said in the same kind of coaxing voice her mother had used to get teenaged Sasha out of bed for school. “You’ll feel better.”
Kylie flipped the blanket back, her sudden energy startling Sasha, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The scowl on her young face aged her, made her look skitzie. Perhaps she was. “No. I want the box.”
Sasha grabbed Kylie’s shoulders, keeping her seated. Though in a fevered need for the drug, she was too weak to break Sasha’s grip. Scowling herself, Sasha pulled Kylie closer, their faces no more than a hand-span apart. “Stop it! Damn the void, stop. I know what you want. More than anyone in this house, maybe, I know.”
Kylie’s fierce look crumbled and her eyes filled as they stared at each other. Did she see the truth in Sasha’s face? Did she understand what could happen to her?
“I know what it’s like,” Sasha continued, her voice barely above a whisper, “to be so sick and in need of a hit that you think you’ll die. To want it so badly, you’ll do anything—anything!—to feel that tingle on your tongue.”
Images flashed through her brain. Marco easing her down on his bed as she licked dust from her finger. Lowering himself onto her, pushing into her. She’d smiled as the amber caught her in its cocoon of euphoria, not caring what happened as long as she got what she needed.
Sasha shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed to dislodge the memory, her fingers digging into Kylie’s shoulders.
“You’re hurting me,” the girl said in a small voice.
Sasha opened her eyes. Slowly, she lifted her fingers from Kylie’s shoulders. Angry red marks marred the pale, perfect skin. “I’m sorry.”
Arms crossed over her nakedness, Kylie rubbed her shoulders, her face full of fear and confusion. “I—I’ll take the tabs.”
Sasha picked up the tablets from the bed and handed them to her. Kylie almost dropped them, her hands were shaking so badly. She passed Kylie the glass of water, surprised her own hands weren’t trembling anymore.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“’Sokay.” Kylie popped the tabs into her mouth and drained the glass. Sasha made sure the tabs went down when she swallowed. Kylie handed the glass back. “I think I want to sleep for a while.”
Sasha helped her under the covers. “I’ve been where you are. It doesn’t end well.”
Kylie frowned as she settled in bed. “Don’t tell me. You’re a former addict on a crusade to stamp out rampant drug use from the inside.”
Sasha’s eyebrows rose, surprised she’d hit so close to the mark. She was Sterling’s sister; quickness must run in the family. “A former addict, yes, but not on a crusade. Just trying to offer a little advice.”
“I can handle it. Guy and the others are really good to me.” She sounded defensive, but then the frown lines softened on her face. “I know you’re just trying to be nice. Thanks. Can you stay for a bit? In case I need to puke or something?”
Sasha nodded, and Kylie’s eyes drifted closed. As she sat on the edge of the bed, Sasha’s gaze fell on the blue marble. Anger bubbled in her gut. How could Guy give her something like that when he’d been all over Sasha about her addiction? How could he encourage Kylie?
“I should smash that damn box,” she muttered.
“No, please don’t,” Kylie said, half asleep.
Sasha felt heat rise on her face. She hadn’t meant for Kylie to hear her, or to think about the box and its contents.
“It was a present.”
“From Guy?” Sasha asked with unmasked derision.
“No,” the girl replied. “From Marco. He likes me.”
Back inside the car, with the heater running to thaw his numb toes, Sterling’s eyes were half closed when the comm blipped another alert. His eyes flew open and he snatched up the device. Sasha’s heart rate had elevated again, but dropped back to near normal.
What the hell was going on in there? Was she in danger? He knew the reasons vital signs rose and fell. Initial fear or anger then the body dealing with it. Surprise or joy or...sex.
His muscles went rigid and his pulse pounded in his ears.
Don’t overreact. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Keep that in mind.
Right. She was no longer attracted to Christiansen. She’d said that more than once. She wouldn’t engage in sex with him of her own accord, and the vitals weren’t sustained long enough to indicate she was being forced.
Sterling drew a slow breath through his nose and blew it out his mouth. Sasha was fine. In his head, he knew that was likely true, that he should go back to his room and let her do what needed to be done. But his racing heart and restlessness demanded he do something. Now. With no idea how he’d explain dropping in on Christiansen, he reached for the starter.
A bright spotlight flooded the car interior, nearly blinding him as the whine of an air car’s anti-grav lifters approached from behind. The vehicle set down, sending a violent swirl of snow and grit whipping around his car.
Diverted from a reckless path but needing to expend some of the pent-up energy coursing through him, Sterling retrieved his pulser from the seat and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Could be someone looking to rob a stranded traveler. If so, he or she was in for a bit of a surprise. More likely a security patrol wanting to know why he was parked there. If he’d actually needed a lawman, sure as hell he wouldn’t have been able to find one.
He shoved the door open as the snow and dust settled and stepped out. The spotlight worked to keep his normal eye blinded, but the artificial one adjusted well enough for him to see a tall figure approach. Silhouetted against the harsh light, the woman—by the form-fitting clothes, that much was evident—held no weapon, and she seemed to be alone. Her arms swung casually at her sides, and the cold breeze tossed her hair around her head.
