by Calinda B
Tal cocked his head. “Hear that, Darry? He did help the bitch.”
Darry played the whip, snaking it across the floor with a sinister whoosh. “You were right, boss. As usual.”
“Yes, I was,” Tal agreed. He tightened his grip again and unleashed the full force of his will, letting the man have a look at the ferocity inside him. “I’m going to give you one last chance, Bill. Tell me where she was going and what charter service you sent her to.”
He nodded his head at Dalg, standing silently by the door. “Or I up the ante, and let Darry really get going. He can cut you to ribbons with that whip. Or maybe ... I’ll let the Mau do what he wants with that big knife strapped to his belt. His particular favorite is fingers. He likes ‘em with hot sauce.”
Bill whimpered, and the sharp odor of fresh urine joined his other unsavory smells.
Darry stopped at Tal’s shoulder, his back to the prisoner. “Let me put a patch on him,” he whispered urgently, his gaze full of worry. “He’ll talk, he won’t be able to help himself.”
Tal shook his head, intent on his purpose. Darry sighed, but he stepped aside.
Tal didn’t have time to argue with Darry, either. He needed to be absolutely certain he got the right info out of this interrogation. He trusted his own skills more than any drug, no matter how refined.
Bill continued to gaze into Tal’s eyes, mesmerized.
“Okay. I’ll tell you,” he mumbled. “She wanted to get to Serpentia. Said she had a safe place just off planet where she could hide. She said she’d send for me as soon as it was safe.”
He smiled dreamily at Tal. “I was just trying to help a lady, that’s all.”
Tal ignored this, focusing all his effort. Perspiration sprang out all over his skin. “And who took her there?”
“Buddy of mine from the spaceport. His name’s Soto. Runs an old Solar Wars surplus ship—a Starfire class. He’s registered. Completely legit ... or mostly.”
“Where will they land?”
“Probably a port called Sunspot City, Solaria. It’s the closest when you’re coming in from this direction. You refuel and hop to Serpentia.”
Tal sucked in a deep, shaky breath. He staggered, and Darry slid forward to stand close behind him, supporting him without seeming to.
Darry nodded at Dalg, who lumbered forward.
“He’s not gonna cut off my fingers, is he?” Bill asked woozily.
“Lucky for you, I believe you, Bill.” Tal shook his head to fight off the wave of exhaustion sweeping over him. “That’s why you’ve still got all your parts.”
“Right,” Bill said. He looked down at himself and his eyes widened, as if he was surprised to still be in one piece.
“Anything else you want to tell us?” Darry demanded.
Bill shook his head and sniffled. Tears of relief trickling down his face. “That’s all I know, I swear.”
Dalg deactivated the power on the hoverpad holding the chainropes, and the skinny man dropped to his knees in a heap.
“All right,” Tal said. “And next time I ask you about anything, you’ll tell the truth.”
Bill managed a nod.
“Get him out of here.” Tal leaned into Darry, unable to do more than let his lieutenant hold him up.
He didn’t know who was the more pitiful specimen at the moment, Bill or himself, but Tal had an image to uphold in this city. He could neither afford to show mercy or weakness. Both would be seen as a sign that he was slipping, and others could move in on his territory.
Of all the monsters that lurked in the dark alleys and dens of these slums, Tal Darkrunner was the most frightening. He had to be.
Darry half-carried Tal into his office, and let him down on the long leather divan at one side of the room. Then he straightened with a grunt. “Don’t move. I’ll get you an energy drink.”
His eyes closed, Tal mumbled his dissent. “No. Gimme a shot of adrenaline.”
“Tal, no. That shit’s dangerous. Just sleep it off. You just need some rest, that’s all.”
“Don’t have ... time. Get it.”
Darry threw up his hands. “All right, damn it.”
He went to a locked safe in the corner and opened it. Reaching in, he withdrew a small meds container. He opened it, took out a plaspac, and carried it to Tal. Ripping open the pac, he pulled Tal’s sleeve up to expose his inner wrist.
“All right,” he warned. “Here it comes.”
He laid the patch on Tal’s skin, and then straightened watchfully.
Tal sucked in a sharp breath, his chest jumping. Shit, he hated this part as bad as the dragging exhaustion. He began to tremble, his arms and legs jerking as the adrenaline flooded his system.
His eyes flew open, and his mouth as well, his head arching back. He gave a choked cry and flailed his arms.
“Shit,” Darry cried. He flung up his hands and took a step toward the door, then back to Tal. “Shit, hold on, Tal. I’m gonna get a medic.”
Tal relaxed, and then grinned, ignoring the sickening race of his heart. “Gotcha.”
“Fuck!” Darry roared, his face scarlet with anger. “Don’t do that to me!” He kicked the divan, hard, then grimaced in pain.
Tal sat up, and then swayed, smile gone. “’kay, I’ll just sit here for a sec.”
“Hold on,” Darry grumped. “I’ll get you a protein smoothie.”
He brought Tal the nourishing drink, and then threw himself on the divan next to Tal, his own favorite energy drink in hand. He watched Tal with mingled concern and irritation in his brown eyes. “So, you gonna play space cowboy, then? Go round up this slaverunner?”
Tal drained the bottle of berry and soy, then rose to pace across the plush carpet and back again. There, he was fine. Little tired, that was all. “I am. You in?”
Darry looked from Tal’s hands to his face and shook his head. But then he grinned wryly, his lean cheeks creasing. “Reckon I am. Haven’t seen you this juiced for a long time. Don’t wanna miss the show if you find her.”
Tal realized he was now tapping his fingers in a swift rhythm against the cerametal butt of his laser weapon. He stopped in his tracks and glared at his lieutenant. “When, not if, you fool. I’m not off on a wild comet chase. You know me, I’m systematic.”
Darry bowed in dramatic acknowledgement. “That’s what I always say. Watch out for Darkrunner, he’s systematic.”
“Don’t know as I’d put it like that,” said Trix from the doorway in her whiskey-rough voice. One hand on her hip, she set the other hand on the doorframe and smirked at them, her strawberry blonde braids flipping across her gamine face. “Unless you’d call a flashbomb systematic. Takes out everything in its radius, for sure.”
“I’ve no objection to a well-placed flashbomb now and then,” Tal said. “But I think of myself as a bit more sophisticated these days. I’m—we’re—” he corrected himself with an ironic look at the two of them, “the entire arsenal.”
Trix pumped her fists in the air and waggled her slender hips. “Yess! So, we’re going after this bitch?”
He nodded. “We’re going after her—and we’re getting her too.”
And then he was presenting the bitch’s head in a cryofreezepac to a certain barista. Whereupon Kiri te Nawa would throw herself into his arms in gratitude ... or something like that.
At least she’d finally understand Tal only wanted to take care of her, to bring her into the circle of his power and give her everything she could dream of wanting. Cruisers, jewels, a penthouse of her own on the top of the tallest scraper in this city—she could have it all.
As long as she took him with it. And gave him what he’d always dreamed of having—a queen at his side who would shine, not only with beauty, because he’d dress her in the finest, but with a sweet light, a true light. He’d bask in her warmth, knowing she’d never betray him for credit or power, because those things weren’t important to her.
He found her priorities—at least this one—incomprehensible,
because power was everything. If you didn’t have it you were nothing but dirt ground under the heels of those who did. But Kiri’s allure was also … well, he didn’t know exactly what it was, he just knew he wanted it—and her. Her presence at his side would give him the one thing he couldn’t buy or coerce—a special place that was only for him.
Kiri lit up the area around her. The way she’d brightened up that tiny hole of an apartment, and her little coffee kiosk, making it an oasis of brightness and warmth in the shabby end of the spaceport.
He’d get her, and then he’d show her why his world was the best place for her to shine.
* * *
Kiri te Nawa was exhausted. She stood propped against the frame of the floor to ceiling windows in Logan Stark’s New Seattle skyscraper-top penthouse, staring sightlessly at the dark, heavy clouds outside. Rain pelted the window, leaving dirty streaks of smog particulate and acidic rain on the heavy glass.
A cruiser screamed past, lights flashing as it leapt up through the clouds. From her vantage point, it seemed to just miss a heavy transport lumbering past. A police craft shot up after the cruiser, blue lights lasering through the mist. New Seattle air traffic as usual.
Kiri lifted her mug of coffee and took another drink, hoping it would jolt her from the heavy weight of exhaustion pulling at her.
She hadn’t slept well since they discovered Logan was missing. She especially hadn’t slept well since she’d forced herself onto the Arcturus, his fastest ship, to return here with his head of security and his brother Joran. She hated space flight, luxurious or not. And after the clean, dry spaciousness of Frontiera, she hated this wet, dirty, teeming city as well.
She’d been forced to leave, but now she’d be happiest returning to Frontiera and never coming back to Earth II again.
However, Joran and Bronc were both convinced Logan had returned to New Seattle. Now they all hoped against hope they would find him, well and whole. If Tal Darkrunner or one of the other millions of criminals in this hellhole didn’t get to him first.
Behind her, Bronc Berenson, Joran Stark, Rak and Opal sat on Logan’s leather divans, sipping water and the fresh coffee Natan, Stark’s houseman and chef had just brought them. They’d gathered here for one of the chef’s gourmet breakfasts and to talk over their plan, which so far was to remove the worst risk to Logan—Tal Darkrunner—from New Seattle so they could search for him in relative peace.
Kiri had been able to eat only a few bites of breakfast. Mingled shame and anger burned inside her at the thought of Tal. It was her fault the ganger hated Logan. When she chose Logan over him, Tal had gotten his revenge by spiriting her away from Logan. It had worked, too, driving a wedge between her and Logan that still hadn’t healed ... and then Logan had disappeared, for reasons as yet unknown.
If only Tal was the one who’d vanished.
“Darkrunner has apparently taken the bait,” Bronc said. “Now all we need is surveillance on his ship. Need to get a drone into his hangar and plant spybots. Make sure he stays out in space where we want him.”
“No,” Joran argued. “I don’t think we dare try it. The man has only survived this long by being smart. He already suspects your motives in giving him the lead about Slidi. If he finds any spyware, he’ll come straight for LodeStar and you, Bronc. And then we’ll have to kill him.”
“And that’s a bad thing why?” Bronc asked.
Kiri winced. Okay, she might dislike Tal intensely after what he’d put her through, but the thought of him actually dead made the little breakfast she’d managed twist in her stomach. But if it came to a choice between him and Logan, she knew who she’d choose. Her heart had already chosen for her.
Joran rose to walk over the windows beside Kiri. He addressed her as well as the others, compassion in his gaze.
“Because, much as I hate to say it, I think Darkrunner may be the lesser of evils here. I’ve looked into a few of his rivals. Compared to them, he’s an angel—if a dark one. Of the beings he’s reputedly made disappear, several were pedophiles, a few were abusive pimps, others sold the worst kind of addictive drugs and one owned a tenement that burned with most of its tenants trapped inside.”
He shook his head. “He’s as crooked as a ricocheting laser charge, but he’s not as bad as some of the other gangers here. He takes care of his own, and I was shocked by the sheer number of people who swear allegiance to him. He’s got as much, or more, power as the city council and mayor.”
“Exactly,” Bronc rumbled. “Which is why I’d give my left nut to know where he is at all times.”
“And I’d add my right one,” Joran said wryly. “Too bad we can’t offer him a LodeStar cruiser, outfitted with our crew.”
The leather divan creaked as Bronc rose. Kiri turned to see his hazel eyes narrowed intently on something only he could see. “That’s it,” he said. “Not that, but—we need to get someone on his crew. A spy.”
Joran snorted. “Right. Any idea how we do that?”
“Well, no. He’d spot an agent or a LodeStar employee in a heartbeat.”
“Sounds like you need someone who’s as crooked as he is,” Rak said, tapping his fingers on his mug. “Only trustworthy. And a pretty face wouldn’t hurt.”
“He does like women,” Opal agreed dryly.
Rak and Opal both looked at Kiri, who flushed miserably. “Maybe I should go and … and try to make him think I’ve changed my mind.”
“No,” chorused Rak, Bronc and Joran, nearly identical scowls on their faces.
Well, good, because the last thing she wanted to do was put herself in Tal’s beringed hands again. She wanted to be here when—not if—they found Logan.
“Oughtta be able to find a likely woman in New Seattle,” Rak said, although he sounded dubious. “Plenty of female criminals here, right?”
“However, they’ve all heard of Darkrunner,” Joran said dryly. “So I doubt we’d find one brave enough to try and deceive him.”
“This leaves us with no one again.” Rak scowled darkly.
Kiri’s heart thumped as she remembered an exotic, sensual face.
“Um...” Everyone’s attention turned to her. “I may know someone.”
“Do tell,” Joran urged.
“Her name is Scala,” she said. “Scala Raj.”
Chapter 3
Scala Raj started when her comlink chimed. She’d been relaxing in her tiny bunk, nearly asleep, for the few short hours she allowed herself. She didn’t trust the captain or crew of the freighter Horal any further than she could see or hear them. She slept when the ship was running and made sure she woke before the watch changed. This schedule left her exhausted, but it also kept her from being forced to perform sexual acts she didn’t care to name.
With a yawn that turned into a body-crunching stretch, she keyed her com. Then blinked blearily at the face gazing back at her from the holovid link. The woman looking back at her could have been her sister, with a cap of short dark hair, golden skin and angled cheekbones. But the other woman’s mouth was softer, her large eyes more vulnerable, and not being Serpentian, her eyes weren’t tilted as Scala’s were.
“Kiri?” Scala cleared her throat and tried again. “Kiri te Nawa. What’s wrong?”
Kiri te Nawa’s mouth quivered as she tried to smile. Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Scala, I need your help … again.”
Scala’s brows flew up. She sat up, the blanket falling to leave her arms and shoulders bare except for a brief tank and panties, but she ignored the chill of the recycled air.
“What’s up? You haven’t been shanghaied again, have you?”
Kiri swiped impatiently at the tears on her cheeks. “No, I’m not on some space scow, headed for who knows where. I’m safe in New Seattle.”
Scala ignored the obvious fact that she herself was on some old space scow, headed for a nameless port. “What are you doing back on Earth II?”
“Because something’s happened.” Kiri took a deep breath, visibly fighting for
calm. “Let me start over—I need your help, but I think I can also help you ... if you’re interested.”
“Help me how, barista girl?” Scala asked, bitter amusement curving up her lips. “Free coffee for life?”
A barista wasn’t in any position to help get Scala what she truly craved—her freedom and her self-respect. Kiri was sweet, but she seemed to view life through a sprinkling of star dust. And why shouldn’t she? She’d started out poor, but she’d never done the things Scala had to survive. Her current lover, Logan Stark—if Kiri had decided to forgive him for his transgressions—was a man wealthy enough to give her half the galaxy if she wanted it. Also, she’d recently gotten back her long-lost brother, and her business on Frontiera was thriving.
Not that Scala begrudged her any of this—well, not much. But she herself wasn’t allowed even to visit Kiri’s Kaffe or her new condo on Frontiera. Persona non grata on most of the settled planets in the galaxy, Scala’s life was about as far from Kiri’s as could be imagined. She’d fallen so far down she doubted she’d ever get out.
But despite her envy, she still liked the other woman. Hard not to when Kiri greeted her as happily as she would a sister each time they linked. She also sent gifts like bottles of Cremarté, packages of charnelle, a chocolate so hot only Serpentians could eat it, and the flame red cashmere robe lying across the foot of Scala’s bunk. Scala leaned to grab the robe and slip it on, sighing with pleasure as the kiss-soft warmth enveloped her skin.
“As much coffee as you could ever drink,” Kiri said, with a pitiful attempt at a smile in return. “Listen, Scala. I’ve inquired—or at least Joran Stark has inquired for me—he’s a sheriff on Frontiera now, y’know. If you can help me—us—we intend to get you a pardon.”
A pardon? What the hells? Scala nearly laughed at the absurdity of such a far-fetched claim. But then her attention snagged on the name Kiri had spoken.,
“Joran Stark?” Scala asked, her amusement gone. “As in, related to your boyfriend, the man who had me tagged as a criminal in the first place?”
Kiri winced. “Yes. Logan’s younger brother.”
