"That’s not going to work this time, Catam," she said firmly, while her lips twitched as if fighting a grin.
"What do you mean?"
"She means you’ve got to stop taking so many chances," Sernal intervened.
"Actually," Lurin corrected, "she means you can’t get to her with that wide-eyed, ‘feel sorry for me’ look anymore. Especially since we both know where you just came from. And sorry is not what you’re feeling." Lurin eyed the three pleasurers standing in the hallway from which Catam had recently arrived.
"Not bad," Sernal murmured.
Catam shrugged carelessly and his brother stared at him with concern.
"Actually, Catam," Mara said, "your brother came to us for some help. We’re in between jobs, so I’ve got no problem with you leaving us for a while. And both Set and Nu are beyond pleased to have some time off to, uh, relax," she finished with an attractive blush staining her cheeks.
Lurin gave a wry chuckle and nodded at the Fas brothers, who sat arm in arm with two voluptuous women at the far end of the bar. "You can say it, love. They’re happy to be on Nebe6 where they can fu--"
"Lurin!"
Catam rolled his eyes at the happy couple and turned to his brother. "I’m as good as yours. This pair is killing me with so much wedded bliss," he mourned, even as he winked at the lovers.
Lurin grinned and dragged his wife away with him. "Signal if you need anything," he called over his shoulder before disappearing with Mara into the crowd.
Catam watched them go with a wistful smile. Had Mara not found Lurin, he felt sure she would have finally made love with him. Not that he begrudged her any happiness with her mate, but he couldn’t help wondering about her prowess in bed. After all, she kept Lurin content, and that man had sexual talents beyond that of "normal" men.
"Hello? Catam?"
"Sorry, Sernal. What exactly do you need help with? I know several women here, and can recommend Sharell, if you want someone with a talented tongue."
A standing family joke, that Catam enjoyed more female companionship than his elder brothers due to his being the "pretty one" in the family, never failed to elicit annoyance from his eldest brother.
Sernal tried to mask his frown by rubbing his forehead. "The day I need help with women is the day I pack up and move to the southern province. Give it up, Catam."
"There has to be some woman here who’ll take you. You’re only six years older than I am. It’s not as if you’re an old man or anything," Catam said with a helpful smile.
"Shut up and listen you idiot," Sernal growled. "I have a situation that requires my attention on Ithra. It’s serious enough that I need to leave my current case with someone I trust."
"If you’re giving it to me, that means Rafe and Gar are both unavailable, right?"
"Right." Sernal offered no apology, always the practical brother. "Rafe’s doing undercover work, and Gar is…. Well, Gar isn’t handling Taika’s passing very well."
Catam nodded soberly. The second oldest, Gar had wed Taika four years ago. To his regret, Taika and their son had died in an explosion six months past, leaving behind a reclusive, grief-stricken man.
"I haven’t seen Gar in months," Sernal continued, "but I talked to Rafe last week. He won’t surface--"
"You mean can’t surface," Catam interjected.
Sernal nodded. "Can’t surface, until his job is done. He told me to tell you not to ruin all the good pleasurers on Nebe6 though."
"Too late," Catam said with a laugh. Despite his recent restlessness, seeing his brother made him feel good.
"Yeah. I’ll be sure to tell him when I talk to him next. Now about this mission," Sernal paused and looked around him.
Sensing Sernal’s need for privacy, Catam motioned him to follow. He threaded through the masses and found Sharell waiting near a black door.
"Can we use your room for a moment? My brother and I need a place to talk."
Her disappointment that he hadn’t returned for her was obvious, but at the mention of a brother her eyes lit on Sernal.
"You can use the room if I can get a thorough introduction to your brother later."
"No problem," Catam said quickly and hustled his brother into the hallway and back toward the room he’d earlier vacated.
"Thanks," Sernal said sarcastically, "but I don’t know that I have the time to fuck one of your girlfriends."
"Don’t be more of an ass than you have to be," Catam answered in a lighthearted tone, always the tease. "Sharell’s a good girl. You’d be lucky to have her."
Sernal sighed. "Maybe later. I’ve just got too much on my mind to think about sex now."
Catam could only gape at him. What the hell was Sernal working on that sex could be an almost forgotten occurrence?
"Statesman Klin is dead," Sernal blurted and rubbed his eyes. "But I have an interplanetary dispute to settle, a matter more important to Mardu than dealing with the death of one of our politicians."
"I hate the western province," Catam said automatically. And he did. The west was well known for producing two things, arrogance and deceit, both of which could be found in abundance in Zeron, where Statesman Klin worked.
"Well then, it’s a good thing you’ll be going north."
"North?"
"Klin died in his home in Voran, a northern territory. His wife found him dead, his throat slit and stabbed in the stomach. Apparently one of the servants saw a masked person fleeing the scene."
"No trace of the assailant?" Catam could feel his blood humming at the possibility of a hunt.
"None. It’s been a week and we have nothing more than a brief description of a masked burglar, gender and age unknown, of slight build and possessing both speed and agility."
"So you think it’s a burglary gone bad?"
"Well, the safe was open and empty, and the statesman’s body was near it."
Catam could almost hear his brother’s brain ticking. "But?"
"But something is off about this case. I’m too torn by the incident with planet Aflera to think clearly about Statesman Klin’s murder. That’s why I need someone I can trust to see to it. I need someone who won’t be pressured by the political factions swarming around the death, someone who won’t bow to the influence of the rich in the northern province."
"Save the platitudes. Just give me what you’ve compiled thus far and I’ll run with it."
Sernal looked relieved. "Great. Thanks, I really needed your help. You’re sure it’s no problem with your Captain?"
Catam shook his head. "Family comes first, Sernal. You know that."
"I know. I’m just glad you remember, what with so many women turning your head," he said wryly.
"They don’t turn my head." Catam surprised himself with the seriousness of his response. "I don’t know why, but none of them do. It’s just sex. And after seeing Gar, maybe it’s best that it stays that way."
Expecting Sernal to argue with him, Catam was taken aback when his brother nodded. "You may be right."
His brother looked like he wanted to say more, but Sharell returned with a friend on her arm.
"Catam, can your brother play?"
Sernal grinned and took each woman by the arm. "With you on the case, Catam, I suppose I can relax. And since I’m presented with the opportunity, it’d be a shame to ignore such lovely ladies." He winked at them and turned back to Catam. "I’ve already sent the info you need via mediastream to Mara’s ship. It’s completely secure, and you know how to reach me if you have any questions."
Sernal was about to walk away with his new friends when Catam asked a question that had been plaguing him. Depending upon the operation, Catam could assume any of a dozen identities.
"Exactly who am I on this one?"
Sernal chuckled. "You’re Catam of Mardu, of course, Peacemaker Certified. I’ll teleport the badge to you early tomorrow."
Catam stared after Sernal in horror. A peacemaker? After all his trouble with the law, he was now supposed to support it?
; Though come to think of it, the badge would help smooth some ruffled feathers if he had to enter those places from which he’d previously been banned. What delicious irony, he thought with a grin, and returned to the ship to inform Mara of his new status.
* * * *
Two weeks later, Isa still hadn’t come any closer to figuring out what the hell really happened the night of Statesman Klin’s death.
She nursed a Sour Jack in a dark corner of Shathra’s grungiest bar, glad for the comfort the tart drink afforded. She hadn’t found ease anywhere else since that fateful night that was turning out to be the worst mistake she’d ever made.
Sighing, she burrowed deeper into her long netters jacket and skulker’s cap, grateful for the relative anonymity in the common clothing. She took another sip of her drink and stared moodily at the raucous crowd growing around her.
At least here she might earn a brief respite from the miserable lawmen dogging her heels. By Flor’s feet, she was tired of running. Despite the mask she’d been wearing in Statesman Klin’s home, her physical description had been posted everywhere. Damn that Harron!
Who else but Harron could have told anyone of her involvement? The bloody handprint she’d stupidly left on the wall had been made wearing a glove, so genetic recovery from the print didn’t signify.
More than anything, she wanted to know why. Why had she been set up? Any one of a dozen people might have wanted to murder the statesman. But why do it in his home in Voran, when the streets of Zeron were filled with assassins who normally took care of stray politicians? And why drag Isa into the sordid muddle?
She watched the room warily, idling the time until her source showed. She had succeeded in brokering a deal for information with a nasty little man named Feltang, someone she normally wouldn’t step a foot near. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and she nervously awaited his arrival.
She glanced around the bar, noting the majority of this crowd focused on the gaming tables. Few fights broke out here, most of the patrons were involved in illegal gambling. Those not playing the tables engaged in drunken revelry or open fornication with the many pleasurers lingering by the taps.
Finishing her Sour Jack, Isa’s gaze panned the room scanning for Feltang. Her eyes passed over a tall figure with dark hair and she froze. He stood with his back to her, talking and laughing with the bartender. There should have been nothing dark or mysterious about a man grabbing a drink, yet something about the dark haired stranger set her teeth on edge.
Her instincts had never failed her, and trusting in her ability to spot trouble, she slowly stood to leave.
"There you are." Feltang sat his wiry frame next to her with a huff, breathing as if he’d just run a race. "It wasn’t easy finding you."
Wanting to leave and yet unwilling to give up this chance for information, Isa reluctantly sat. She glanced back at the bar but the stranger had vanished. Her gaze darted around her, lingering where the dim lighting in the bar failed to reach, but she saw nothing of the man.
".... so I can’t stay long. Lady, have you heard a word I’ve said?"
"Um, no, sorry. Something caught my attention." Still no sign of the stranger. The company nearest her table was a couple fornicating against the wall behind Feltang. She quickly looked back at her companion. "You were saying?"
"First, I want my currency," Feltang demanded and looked around him before reaching out his hand. He reminded her of a port rat, nervous energy and meanness balled into a poorly fed frame.
"Here," Isa grumbled and tossed ten beks at him. "Now the information."
She watched him study the currency in his palm before quickly hiding it in his soiled jacket. Then he leaned toward her and spoke in a low voice. "News from both Zeron and Voran has it that the statesman’s consort is offering ten thousand beks for the capture of the person who killed her husband." His rheumy eyes studied her craftily, trying to see beneath the brim of her hat.
Isa swore under her breath. Just what she didn’t need. Another group of greedy citizens bent on her capture, as if the law wasn’t enough.
"Speculation has it that Klin’s assassination was engineered by somebody big, somebody that even the law can’t touch," he whispered. "My source tells me they found an Aran blade in the statesman’s belly."
Puzzled, Isa could only stare at Feltang. She’d seen the end of the knife protruding from Klin’s belly. It had carried none of the ornate sequencing of Aran smith work. No, that blade had been Voranian, or at least designed in Evran, Voran’s sister city. The artistry of the handle definitely smacked of northern influence.
Just one more piece of an ever-growing puzzle.
"What did you make from the name Arnath?" she asked. "I know it’s fairly common in Voran, but what connection could you tie to Daarna, Lady Klin?"
He shook his head. "There are too many Arnath’s to count. At least four work on her estate, and the commonwealth is filled with them."
"Then at least give me a place to start searching for answers. I could have gotten this generalized information without your help," she bluffed in a harsh voice, trying to mask her worry with anger.
She glared at him from under dark lashes, trying to look threatening, subtly reminding him that she had seen him escape from the peacemakers trying to arrest him. One word and he’d see jail time. He didn’t need to know the law was the last thing she intended to confront.
Feltang swallowed audibly, his gaze trapped under hers like a hunted animal. "I don’t know why you give a damn about any of this." She narrowed her stare and he hurried to continue. "Try the western province. Cheltam might know something."
Her glare subsided and his grating voice perked up. "I can tell you something I’m sure you don’t already know."
"What?"
"They’ve brought in someone special to track Klin’s murderer."
Her heart raced. "Who?"
"Me," a soft voice rumbled from behind her.
Chapter Three
At the low growl Feltang fled, disappearing in the hazy mist hanging around the disreputable gaming club. Before she could make her own escape, Isa found herself picked up by her collar and shoved into the shadows.
As her attacker pinned her belly against the wall, his large, hard body pressed against her so firmly that she couldn’t move. Hands as quick as lightning flashed over her, removing the twin Zephyr blades and the illegal Melan pistol strapped to her side.
Disarmed, she struggled to free herself but was soon unable to breathe.
"If you stop moving, I’ll allow you air." The deep voice smoothed over her, a seductive promise of life.
She immediately stilled and gasped when air rushed into her grateful lungs. He turned her around in his arms, so that her back now touched the wall. His body stood so close to hers that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Her hat and his proximity blocked her view, so she could see no more of him than a flash of golden skin at the base of his throat.
She innately knew that this man and the dark haired stranger who had earlier alarmed her were one and the same. Her instincts that he was trouble proved correct, and her heart raced with panic.
"Feeling better?" he asked softly, causing her to start in a new feeling of alarm. Amazingly, her body felt as if were not her own, her blood pooling and pulsing in what she surprisingly attributed to lust. She blinked and tried to regain control over her emotions but could do no more than lean into her large captor when he pulled her forward.
"That’s a good girl." He purred into her ear. "Now let’s see what you look like up close, hmm?" He removed her hat, freeing her long hair from its confines. She refused to look up, not wanting him to see more of her than he already had.
She didn’t know how he could see in the first place, considering the veiled darkness of their position, but apparently he could make out enough.
"Very nice," he said, his voice sounding pleasantly surprised.
Isa struggled to hold onto her control as
this new threat invaded. His warm mouth blew a caress against her ear, wringing a startled moan from her lips. The patrons in the club didn’t give her or her captor a second glance, similar scenes of foreplay occurring all around them.
"What," she began and gasped as his teeth bit softly on her earlobe. His tongue pressed into the sensitive cavern of her ear and her knees buckled. "Wh-what do you want?" She had no idea who this man was. System law would have had her in chains by now, not pressed up against the wall being seduced senseless.
"You have to ask?" he murmured with a hint of humor. "I had no idea such beauty hid underneath that terrible hat." His lips left her ear to find the pulse beating rapidly at her neck. His tongue swirled over the point before he settled his lips over her soft skin. Sucking lightly, he groaned and ground his pelvis against her.
Isa writhed, caught in the grip of passion beyond her control. With just his mouth, this stranger made her wet and needy.
She gripped the wall for support.
She had come into this less than savory establishment to keep a low profile. Her dealing with Feltang had proved a minor success. This man, however, posed a serious problem. Never before had Isa ever let a small thing like sexuality come between her and a job, let alone her life.
But this unidentified male held her against a grimy wall, stealing her will as he sensuously suckled her neck. She could only assume the Sour Jack had been somehow drugged. She couldn’t account for her reaction to this stranger, nor could she fathom why she didn’t simply break away from his touch.
He no longer held her captive but caged his hands on either side of her head and leaned against her with his hard body.
Isa tried to turn but he pushed deeper against her as his mouth sampled the tender flesh of her neck, an erogenous zone she hadn’t known existed. Stars, she silently cursed as her body responded against her will. She wanted him more than she’d wanted anything in her life, and she had no idea what he looked like! He certainly had height and strength but she knew little more than that.
She closed her eyes, staving off the ecstasy building within her, and called on every ounce of discipline she possessed to resist his heady embrace. Moisture pooled between her thighs and her nipples had pebbled to hard nubs. She felt raw and she ached, and all from his touch. Then she inhaled to get a grip on her body, and she drew in his scent.
The Thief of Mardu Page 2
