Runner: The Fringe, Book 3

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  She took a deep breath, readying herself to speak of something she hadn’t told anyone in years. “It was holiday season. You know how it is on the IWOG worlds at that time. All the rush and fuss. My family was going out to Shanagan’s.”

  “For the big parade with all the lights and songs and desperate merriment.”

  “Yes.”

  “My family did that one year as our big gift to each other. Expensive as hell, but me and my sister, we were little kids and my parents spent the whole day with us. I remember all the lights and robotic toys, but mostly I remember just being with my parents for the first time in my whole life. Got to know not only my sister but my dad and mom on that day. A whole day of just our family walking around and doing things together.”

  His voice held fond memories like the ones she carried. Memories now tainted by tragedy.

  “My family went to Shanagan’s for the holidays every year since the time I was born. Like you, it seemed to be the only day I really got to spend time with them. I cherished it, but then I became a doctor. Holidays on IWOG worlds are not so cheery and bright for everyone. I started missing my family at Shanagan’s, more and more often as the years went on. Hospitals fill with human stupidity during the holiday season. Rather than spend my time with my family, I spent my time healing people I did not know. People I wonder to this day if I really helped.”

  “Poor people?” He stroked and then kissed the tiny scar as if his lips could heal.

  “Money poor but rich in some powerfully strange ways.” She bit her lip, considering the thousands of faces that flashed in her mind. “I’d missed so many trips to Shanagan’s since I took up medicine. I missed the last trans by less than twenty seconds. I stood on the platform and watched the doors close on their frantic faces as they hurtled down the tracks. I knew Mother would be furious. As a doctor, I always ran late.”

  “Emergencies.”

  She nodded. “I’d really tried to meet them on the platform so we could all go together. Me, my parents, my brother, his wife, their six children, my maternal and fraternal grandparents along with—my entire family was on that trans.”

  “The hospital held you up?” He stroked her hair over her shoulder.

  “Not this time. That’s what’s so perverse. A woman who dropped her purse held me up. Her bag went one way as her child went the other. Before the pickpockets could prey, I scooped up the battered bag as she went after her child. It took a minute of my time to help her. I didn’t save her life, just her purse, but she saved my life, and she doesn’t even know it.”

  “How?”

  “It’s funny how the slimmest moments can have the most impact.”

  “Jynx, I don’t understand.”

  “My mother hated my job. I stopped being a surgeon to take up general practice in the hopes of appeasing her. It didn’t. I became just as passionate about that. Mother wanted me to be a housewife and mother like her, because then I could be counted on to show up for important family functions on time. Dark irony in that I helped a housewife and ended up betraying my mother for the last time.”

  “I still don’t understand.” He looked deep into her eyes.

  “I didn’t board that trans. The metal tube hurtled away with everyone I knew and loved. I waved to them, smiling at the irony I couldn’t wait to tell them about once we met up at Shanagan’s. I’d take the next trans and tell them all about the woman who delayed me. She couldn’t have had more than twenty in script. Our planned evening at Shanagan’s would cost well into the tens of thousands, but I helped a poor woman because she left her purse behind to pursue her child. It wasn’t the doctor in me but the woman in me.”

  “Most IWOG consumers would tend first to their money.”

  “Yes. But not this woman. I know in my heart she could have had a million in her purse and still have lunged for her child. A tiny event, my seeing her, helping her, but missing the trans because of a woman I don’t even know the name of.”

  “I still don’t—”

  “Banna trans system. December 25, 2471.”

  His face went pale as he understood in a horrid rush. “The crash.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your whole family was on the trans that plowed into the commuter hub?”

  All she could do was nod.

  He pulled her tight, kissing her forehead as he nestled her down into the covers of his bed and the acceptance of his arms. With a curt command, he ordered the lights off, then lowered his lips to her ear. Like a soft summer breeze, he said, “I didn’t know.”

  “Roberts knows.”

  “That’s why Roberts picked you, isn’t it? Because there wouldn’t be anyone around to back you up. Not a soul who could stand up and defend you.”

  Against his chest, she nodded as tears spilled slowly over the edges of her eyes. “Not only did Roberts have the lab destroyed, but the hospital where I worked was burned to the ground. My family, my coworkers, everyone I’ve ever known is gone.” She hugged him hard. “I never hurt anyone, but Roberts’s lies have crafted me into a killer. Vilified, hated, hunted.” Biting her lip, she refused to cry anymore. “It’s so unfair, I want to scream.”

  “You’re not alone anymore.”

  She kissed him and curled against the protection of his strength. His acceptance shouldn’t matter so much, but her heart almost broke at how desperately she needed him. Having one other human being know her truth made everything more bearable. And she began to understand why she loved him.

  “Thank you. All I’ve ever wanted to do was help people.”

  He tilted her head back. Tracing his finger to her lips, he kissed her with the grace of a butterfly. “You’ve done no wrong. Hell, you healed the finger of the meanest man you ever met.”

  “You trust me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you love me back?”

  For the longest time, he just looked at her as his mouth opened and closed, trying to find an answer.

  “Don’t.” She pressed her finger to his lips. “Don’t answer that question. Much like time or the naming of meals, it doesn’t matter if you love me or not, Foster. Because I can’t help but love you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Foster held Jynx as she drifted off to sleep. He worried at her question like a dog at a bone. Love. Did he or didn’t he? Trust was far more dangerous to grant, yet he’d granted her that almost immediately. But love? The four-letter word frightened the hell out of him. Earlier he’d admitted there wasn’t thing one in the universe that frightened him but the lovely woman on his lap. If disaster loomed, it was already on his ship. Curled up in his arms, pleasure-spent in his bed. Honest and lovely and so fragile yet strong.

  He’d been in love a long time ago, and he knew how intensely pleasurable and utterly painful it could be. That was what caused his fear. When he’d been in love, he’d been willing to give up almost anything to keep his loved one safe. Loving Jynx would be extremely dangerous because she was a hunted woman.

  He said he could protect her, but then doubt crept in. What if he couldn’t keep her safe? Roberts still hung over them.

  He’d told her she was free, but that might not be entirely true. He hadn’t let Roberts say anything after he threw the reader restriction out as a valid reason to cancel the contract.

  There’s always the failsafe.

  He pulled Jynx tighter and tried not to think about how he’d made promises that he might not be able to keep. He held love back like a card up his sleeve.

  They were eating breakfast in the galley when a light flashed on the wall com. Foster rose, his brows lowered to a broad V as he tapped at the unit. He grunted with annoyed frustration, then strode off to the bridge.

  “Is there a problem?” Jynx asked.

  “No. Finish up. I’ll come back and help with the dishes.”

  “I can handle it.”

  He stopped and cast his gaze over his shoulder. “You don’t think I’m pulling the man on you? Leaving you with the dishes
because that’s what I expect?”

  “Is it?”

  “No.”

  “Then there you go.” She smiled at him as she sat at the table. “Go and take care of whatever it is that needs your attention. I’ll do the dishes.”

  “When you’re done, join me on the bridge.”

  She finished her meal, then cleaned up. They hadn’t really said much to each other today. Just looked at each other, shy smiles and shining eyes. Foster had taken her into the shower with him again, but this time they left off anything more than washing when she’d winced slightly at the touch of his fingers between her legs.

  “I hurt you.” His face crumpled as he yanked his hand away. Concerned, ashamed, he stepped back, afraid of hurting her further.

  Pressing close, she said, “It’s been a long time; well, not so long really, but never so vigorous. And you’re a big man.” Trailing her fingers from his growing erection to his chest, she stroked his face. “In more ways than one.”

  He bit his lip and grinned. She found she loved that look on his face. The boy-next-door all grown up. Pleased and a little afraid of being allowed to be all the man he was. Kind, gentle but also aggressive and wanton. Sheer brute strength excited her and him, her surrender to it, his heady power with it. “We wallowed in pleasure last night. I’m a bit sore today, but I honestly have to say it was worth it.”

  He nodded. “I’m working real hard to keep the animal at bay.”

  After they’d dried off, he’d given her one of his T-shirts and a pair of drawstring shorts to wear. The shirt was almost long enough to be a dress by itself, and the shorts hung to the tops of her knees.

  “It’s not the most flattering outfit, but I imagine you’re a little sick of wearing the same dress every day.”

  After giggling at her horrible attire, she nodded agreement. “Besides, I think all my clothes are scattered around the bridge with yours.”

  “Tossed off much like our inhibitions.”

  “Freedom is such a heady feeling.”

  “Dangerous, even.” Soft, plaintive, almost tentative, he kissed her, as if he could convey everything in one brush of his lips. “Lovely lady so thoroughly corrupted by a very bad man.”

  He had to love her back. Even if he was still too afraid to admit the truth, he had to. The way he touched her and looked at her. Things he said and those he didn’t. More than anything, what he did, the way he vowed to protect her, really told her the truth of his marshmallow heart.

  “Deny the truth to yourself all you want, Mr. Nash.” She rinsed his plate, then set it to the sideboard. “Ruthless, brutal, vicious, why, Never-Fail Nash is utterly smitten. With me.”

  She finished up the dishes, tidied the kitchen, and made her way to the bridge.

  Foster ran the vid again. He spewed out every swear word he knew in every language he knew at least twice, then did it a third time for good measure. He got good and creative as he ranted on the bridge, knowing Jynx was well away in the galley. Twirling his seat round in circles, he threw his head back and glared at the bridge ceiling as if it were entirely to blame.

  Damn You.

  “Name of my ship. My home. A prison, a transport, my comfort zone now fired upon. Whole lot of damn you all over the place.” Tight fists gripped the arms of his chair. Visions of Jynx’s tight body gripped his mind with dark pleasure. Forcing himself away from the thought, he catapulted from the chair.

  He had to stop everything and think. Hating what he had to do, he threw himself into the pilot chair and tapped at the main console with skilled fingers. Via the audvid, he found Jynx coming down the hall. Spinning his chair, he stopped her at the threshold of the bridge.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.” Startled, she nonetheless answered automatically.

  He scooped her onto his shoulder and strode to the cell room.

  “I’m putting you in here because I need to be alone. Okay?” Metal clunked hard as he yanked the cell door closed.

  Fear crossed her face and darkened her otherworldly eyes.

  “Are you in danger?”

  “No. I’m—” He knew at that moment he loved her. She asked not am I in danger, not are we in danger, but are you in danger. Given only two people to worry about at the moment, she worried about him rather than herself. Given a chance, she’d give herself up for him. He knew the same truth in himself. He’d kill for her. If it came down to it, he’d die for her. He realized he might very well be on his way to such a fate. “I need to be alone. Okay?”

  Relief showed clearly as tension drained from her body. “Certainly.” She settled herself to her bunk and scooped up the pleasure book. “I can read this again.”

  He felt driven to explain. “I spend about ninety-eight percent of my time alone. I’m not used to sharing my space with someone who isn’t my prisoner. I’m not accustomed to having a lover on my ship.”

  “I understand.” She folded the pillow behind her head, settled herself to the bunk and flipped open the book. “Go be alone. I’ll be in here reading until you come back. I trust you’ll come back?” She didn’t seem upset, pissed off, or even curious. She accepted with an aplomb that annoyed him.

  “You’re not even going to start harping on me about what I’m going off alone to do?” Laura would barely let him out of her sight.

  “Do you want me to?” She peered at him over the edge of the book. Locked once again to her cage, she didn’t seem at all concerned. Clad in his T-shirt, a well-worn white one that got stained pink when he’d mixed bleach, white motton and a pair of red briefs together in the wash. He wore that oddly pink splashed T-shirt only on laundry day, but it looked damn fine on her.

  “No—just—you—I’ll be back in two hours.” He felt he’d never fully understand her.

  “Fine. I’ll be here.” She turned her face, placed the battered paperback close and started to read.

  He stood there nonplussed for a moment. She never seemed to react the way he thought she would. He figured he’d have to stomp away from her yelling and screaming against the bars. Nope. She just accepted that he wanted to be alone.

  Damn You.

  A normal reaction would be instant hostile suspicion. Her calm acceptance infuriated him for reasons he couldn’t understand, and he worked hard to keep his feelings at bay. Step by step, he drew ever closer to betrayal, and she didn’t know. Or, if she did, she didn’t care. Or she trusted him. She’d have to be insane to trust him.

  She trusts me because she loves me.

  He left the cell room without looking back. In the midst of exploring his dark side, he’d demanded she tell him if she loved him. Yes had come automatically to her lips. Not breathless or pained but bold and brazen. Just as fully as she’d given her trust. She didn’t even have to think about it. She gave herself over. Not for passion. They’d played a game of master and servant, but he knew if he asked her now, when she had a cool head, she’d answer the same way. Jynx didn’t lie. She did what she felt, said what she wanted, and it was his problem if he couldn’t accept it.

  “Educated, honest, sexy IWOG lady thoroughly corrupted by the dangerous freedom of the Fringe. Honest in the dark, in the light. Trusting me not to hurt her.” He thought again of how he’d grabbed her and bent her lovely body to his wicked needs.

  “Corrupted by a very bad man.” He’d forced her not just to his body but to an even darker surrender when he’d demanded her trust and love.

  Rushing to the weight room, he pounded his fists into the punching bag for a solid hour. Every smash of his fist to the bag held the vision of Roberts’s smug face.

  Even if he couldn’t do it in real life, he wanted to at least banish that I-got-you face to a bloody pulp in his mind. When his bruised and bloody fist couldn’t deliver one more blow, he slipped on a pair of boxing gloves, then continued to pound away for another hour left-handed. Roberts fueled the fury of every blow.

  Sweat drenched his body and his right fist looked like a bloody pulp, yet the f
ury had not abated. From twenty quadrants away, Roberts wrapped a tight hand around his testicles and squeezed. Caving in on the reader restriction, Roberts invoked the failsafe in a most usual way.

  Using the media with devious intelligence, Roberts let it be known that the populace of the Void need no longer concern themselves over the capture of Jynx Brennan.

  “Never-Fail Nash has her in custody.” Holding up the contract, Roberts addressed the camera with powder-blue eyes swimming with a cool, cultured reserve. “For 270Mil, Foster Nash, the notorious triple-platinum Runner, will deliver Jynx Brennan to my custody within ten days.”

  Roberts left the podium despite the barrage of questions. Within moments, copies of the contract popped up on the media channels like nasty zits. Now he knew why Roberts hadn’t announced Jynx’s capture.

  “Failsafe.”

  No matter about the reader restriction, Roberts could offer triple, triple, triple. Progressively tripling the full amount of the contract took 10Mil to 270Mil, but it also took the full time allowed, thirty days, to ten days. Foster found his entire reputation hinged on one woman.

  “Lovely lady Jynx Brennan.”

  He left off the punching bag and tossed himself to the padded floor.

  If not for him having trusted Laura, he would have enough money in reserve to last them a good three lifetimes. As it stood, he had enough to get them through three months at best. He needed money. He needed a lot of money. The only way he could get it was if he turned Jynx over to Roberts. Two hundred and seventy million in credits. He could retire on that. Hell, he could almost buy his own planet with that.

  “To get it, I have to turn over the woman I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

  If Foster didn’t turn Jynx over to Roberts, his carefully built reputation would slide down the toilet of the Void like so much worthless shit. He’d never get another contract, because nobody would trust him. If he couldn’t bring in the most hated, most vilified, and most clueless of all fugitives, not a soul would hire him to even walk their dog.