Stripper: The Fringe, Book 4

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  Mary laughed. “Why does Michael do things like that?”

  “When he feels threatened, he lashes out.” Duster couldn’t believe he was defending Michael yet again. “You know he didn’t mean it.”

  “I know. But it still hurts. Everything seemed fine until I took over your job. That’s when instead of you two fighting all the time over me, him and I started fighting all the time over everything. I gotta tell you, your job sucks.”

  Duster chuckled. “I could have told you that.”

  “I’d give it back if I could, but since Michael is referring to you as ‘the traitor’, that isn’t likely to happen.”

  “He’s probably not going to let you keep your job after this anyway. Just a suggestion, but see if he’ll let MacKay have it. I think he’d be really good at not only managing security but dealing with Michael.”

  “I don’t think Michael’s going to be taking my advice, but I’ll give it a whirl.” Mary turned to go.

  “Why is he so mad at me?” It seemed such a minor point, but Duster had to know.

  “Because you left him.” Mary came back to the cage. “He moped around for days after you took off. Kinda lost, I guess. The only thing he did was order Windmere renamed Prime Bastard.” Mary touched the bars of the cage. “He’s pretty much been living up to the name ever since.”

  Duster leaned against the bars. “Mary, I offer no fight to you or him.”

  “I know. But when you came back with Diane, Michael felt betrayed. Like you chose her over him.” Mary sighed. “Guess that’s why he’s so mad at me. Apparently, he thinks I picked you over him. I’m thinking Michael’s feeling a little betrayed lately.”

  “Great.” Duster rolled his eyes. “That’s not a good place for Michael to be, and certainly not good for me.” Duster knew from experience that when Michael felt betrayed, he covered his pain with aggression and started lashing out like a bully.

  “I thought telling him about the baby would make him happy.” Mary sounded more perplexed than hurt. “That’s why I waited. Big-time backfire.”

  “You couldn’t tell me why you were helping me until you told Michael the truth.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “Doc Murphy knew, but I made him swear to let me tell Michael. I’ve known only for a few hours.”

  “You used knowing you carried Michael’s child in a desperate bid to save me, my child and my wife?” Duster would never understand her, and again, she’d clearly demonstrated that she should never be underestimated.

  “You can think of it that way.” Mary sighed. “Love is all kinds of complicated.” She took a deep breath and looked away.

  Duster nodded. “How long till we land?”

  “About two hours, give or take.”

  “Could you do me a favor?”

  “Sure you want me to?” Mary asked with a wary gaze. “I seem to be prone to really messing things up lately.”

  “You won’t. Just check on Diane and Scott. Make sure they’re okay.”

  “They’re fine. Last I heard, Daniels took them on a tour, then up to the galley for something to eat. Please don’t ask me to bring them down here. I won’t uncuff you, and I don’t want Scott to see you chained up and behind bars.”

  “I don’t want that either. Where do they think I am?”

  “Diane knows you’re my captive, but Scott thinks you’re helping to fly the ship. Scott informed me that you’re the best pilot in the whole Void, right after he said he’s never seen a girl with a gun.”

  “Nothing scares that kid.”

  “That’s a good thing right now.”

  It burned in him, wondering what Michael would do, but asking Mary was pointless since she wouldn’t know either. He desperately wanted to see Scott, but not like this. “Can I see Diane?”

  “No. I’m sorry. It’s best if she stays with Scott.”

  “Mary, no matter what happens, thank you for helping me and my family.”

  “I don’t think I have. I’m afraid I made it worse. Oh, damn it all to the vast reaches of hell!” Mary whirled away and scrubbed her hands furiously at her face.

  “It’s normal, Mary,” Duster offered softly, well aware of the emotional and physical turmoil of pregnancy. In a curious way, he found it rather fitting that he hadn’t been there for Diane’s pregnancy, but maybe he could be there for Mary’s. He certainly hoped so.

  “Not for me it’s not.” She pulled her purple shirt from her pants and used it to wipe her tears away. “I feel like a blubbering idiot. Everything makes me cry.”

  “You and Michael are peas in a pod. Neither one of you can stand not being strong.”

  “Right now I’d settle for feeling safe. I really don’t know what Michael is going to do. To me or you.” After a deep, warbling breath, Mary pinned him with her velvet-brown eyes. “All I know is that I can land this ship and everyone in it alive, including you and Diane. After that?” She shrugged. Mary turned and left before Duster could ask her anything else.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Panic filled Diane when the guard took Scott away, but she told her son everything was fine and forced a smile. Chatting happily, Scott went with the guard, and Diane allowed herself to be chained hand and foot.

  They’d landed on Windmere not long ago, and she hadn’t seen Duster or the kind and mysterious Mary. Diane feared that Mary had gotten herself into trouble just to help them. Michael’s own wife turning against him probably did not put him in a happy mood. About the only good thing in being taken hostage by Michael was Network Thirteen wasn’t going do anything even if they managed to track her to his planet, which was iffy anyway. Since Michael “Overlord” Parker assuaged his guilt by funneling money to the anti-slavery group, they wouldn’t do anything to annoy him.

  Hobbling awkwardly in her ankle chains, she made her way to Michael’s office in the custody of four ridiculously armed guards. Just like Duster said, the room was massive but didn’t come close to dwarfing Michael, who reclined casually, one foot up on his mahogany desk, peering at her with the gleam of a predatory wolf.

  “We’ll be fine alone. Wait outside.” All four guards exited through the gigantic double doors. They closed with a whoosh of air and ringing snick of metal on metal. The puff of air from them smelled like fresh wood oil, lemony and clean. The whole office smelled slightly citrus. It made Diane think of a sweaty glass of lemonade on a hot summer day.

  Diane kept her chin high despite the fear of being alone with him. Michael Parker seemed bigger now than he had seven years ago, and far more dangerous and deadly. Clad in clinging red silk and black leather, he looked relaxed and yet ready to launch himself at her.

  Once the guards exited, Michael bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile. “Diane. After all this time.” Ever so casually, he lifted and sipped from a squat glass of amber liquid. “Don’t you think you owe me an apology?”

  Hope surged through her that maybe it could be this easy; then painful reality filled her with apprehension. “I don’t think if I offered you an apology, you would accept it.”

  “I might. If you make it compelling enough.” Michael’s voice rolled like far-off thunder, low and rumbling, like barely contained power that surged ever closer. Energy coiled around him and made the hair along her neck stiffen.

  Swallowing a tight lump in her throat, keeping her son and Duster firmly in her mind, she didn’t care if she had to get down on her knees and beg. “I made a mistake seven years ago. I was young and thought I was doing the right thing. When I fell in love with Duster, I knew I couldn’t do what they wanted of me.”

  “They?”

  “Network Thirteen. They sent me on the Damn You to kill you both, and I couldn’t. I did the best I could to get everyone out alive.”

  “Odd. I didn’t hear you say you’re sorry.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Indeed.” Sipping from his glass, Michael deliberately dragged his gaze from her hair to her toes, then settled on her eyes. “How did Duster find you?”


  “By accident. I’m a stripper. I didn’t know it was him; he didn’t know it was me.”

  A quirky half grin lifted one edge of Michael’s mouth. “How interesting. Duster located you on my orders over a year ago. What fun we would have had if I had availed myself of your services.”

  “Missed opportunities.”

  “Not so much. Here you are.” He considered his glass. “You didn’t strip Duster, did you?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll bet he was happy to see you.”

  “Not really.” Duster had said Michael dulled his ability with alcohol, and he was clearly drinking, but she didn’t want to take the risk of lying to him. Getting caught in a lie could get Duster or Scott killed. “Duster wanted his 7Mil back, so he took me prisoner.”

  “He should have killed you and saved us all a lot of time and aggravation.” Michael spoke so casually it was as if he were suggesting Duster should change his shirt.

  “Is that what you’re going to do with me?” As much as she didn’t want to know, knowing would lessen the almost hysterical pounding of her heart.

  “I’m going to offer you a deal.”

  Duster had warned her about this, Michael’s penchant for offering deals that were designed to twist someone into a horrible moral dilemma. Against her better judgment, she found herself asking, “What deal?”

  “You get to choose. Who will it be, Diane? Scott or Duster?”

  “For what?”

  “Which one lives, which one dies.”

  Horror shook her from the top of her head down to her bare feet. “You can’t seriously expect me to choose between my husband and my son.”

  “I think I’m being extremely generous, giving you such a choice. Ah, yes, and if you refuse to choose, I will kill them both. While I make you watch. And then I will kill you.” He spoke with the calm air of a man discussing nothing more important than the weather. Never in her life had she met a man so ruthless and cruel.

  “To punish me for what I did to you seven years ago, you’re willing to kill your best friend and his innocent child?” Repulsion made her want to run as far from him as she could get. Clearly, she remembered telling Duster that if he had to choose between her and Scott, he should always put Scott first. Now that she found herself facing such a choice, she couldn’t make it.

  “I wouldn’t do it personally, of course. I don’t like to get my hands dirty.” Michael examined his right hand. From this distance, she saw that his hand was strong but not work-worn. Obviously, he was a man who used his brains and not his brawn. “But I have thousands of highly skilled operatives who would. Without batting an eyelash.”

  “You’re a monster.”

  “Granted.” He rose from his desk and refilled his drink from a bar hidden into the cabinets. “Would you like a drink?” He offered out the bottle. “It might settle your nerves and help you think about what you would like to do.”

  “I would sooner have a drink with the devil himself than you.”

  “From what I’ve been told, it’s pretty much the same thing.” Michael poured his glass to two fingers, then sauntered back to his desk.

  “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Ever so much.” Settling himself back to the top of his desk, he lifted his glass to her. “Here’s to you, Diane. The lady with the power of life and death in her hands.”

  “I’m not playing this sick game with you. Because I think, in the end, you’re going to kill me anyway. This is just a way to torture me before you do.”

  “Torture?” Michael frowned as if he just now considered this possibility. “An interesting idea. What kind of torture would really destroy you? Perhaps watching your son being tortured, knowing you could stop it if you only offered up your husband for sacrifice.”

  Just the thought of it made her want to retch. “My husband is your best friend.”

  “So?”

  She waited for Michael to say something else, anything else, but he remained silent. “How could you condone torturing a little boy? Not just any little boy, but your best friend’s little boy?”

  Michael smiled. “You said it yourself—I’m a monster.”

  “You are the most depraved, twisted, miserable excuse for a human being I’ve ever encountered.” There was more she wanted to say, but calling him names clearly pleased him.

  “Granted.” He smiled proudly. “Did you expect me to be warmly welcoming? Embrace you with forgiving arms, perhaps? Do you have any idea what you cost me seven years ago?”

  “A handful of slaves worth hardly a pittance of what you make now. My understanding is you abhor slavery. According to reports, you refuse to practice slavery on your world, and you funnel money to Network Thirteen. Do you realize that your money has supported my work?”

  “Had I known, Diane, you and I would have had this conversation long ago. Without Duster’s knowledge.” Michael paused, giving her time to let the implications of his words sink in. “I would have gladly killed you myself and given him your son.”

  Her heart lurched. “And told him what?”

  “A moot point. For we are not there, we are here.” Assessing his glass, he swirled the liquid before taking a sip. Then he turned his gaze to her. “You almost cost me my best friend seven years ago. You turned Duster against me, then turned right around and betrayed him.” Michael shook his head. “If I am a monster and a miserable excuse for a human being, then you are an unscrupulous harlot with the morals of an alley cat.”

  It stung far worse than any physical strike could have, but still, Diane refused to take the blow without giving something back. “You forgave Duster. You saved him. And if anyone is turning your best friend against you now, it would be you.”

  Dismissing her claim with a smirk, Michael said, “You’ve probably already started your work. Twisting him around your finger, or rather crooking it to his pants, and he so willingly follows. After what you managed to pull off seven years ago, I can’t trust you or him.”

  “Do you honestly think that I’ve set my sights on Windmere? That I want to, what? Take over your world? Why? Just exactly what would I get out of it?”

  “Who knows?” Michael shrugged, pulling the red silk taut across his shoulders. “The point is moot as that will not happen. You have set foot on a world that I control with an iron fist.” Again he inspected his strong yet uncalloused hand. She realized this gesture was to convey his disdain. “Yet I’m curious as to why you are here. You knew I wouldn’t be happy to see you again.”

  “I didn’t have much of a choice. Duster took command of my ship.” Michael smiled at that. “Duster wanted to come here, not me.” She realized she was inadvertently blaming Duster, so she softened her tone. “Duster said Windmere—”

  “Prime Bastard,” Michael interrupted.

  “This world”—she wasn’t going to get bogged down in minutia—“would be a safe place for Scott.”

  At the mention of her son, Michael stopped inspecting his nails. He looked toward an operational panel on the wall behind his desk. Diane wasn’t certain, but she thought there was a prison cell on the audvid, and Mary was in the cell. Perhaps Michael wasn’t as heartless as he wanted to portray himself as.

  Softly, she continued. “Duster said on this world, Scott wouldn’t have to fight just to keep his shoes. He wouldn’t have to kill just to get something to fill his stomach.”

  Michael’s harsh face softened, and she prayed she’d finally reached him. “I did everything I could to protect Scott on Dahank, but still there were times when the horrors of that world touched him. Duster assured me that wouldn’t happen here.”

  The hard light of aggression in Michael’s eyes faded to nil, and then she witnessed the briefest burst of compassion. Something she said touched him. Something about Scott or a safe place to live killed that bully inside Michael. But only for a moment. Just as quickly as it materialized, the empathy disappeared. Like a door slamming shut, Michael’s entire demeanor cha
nged.

  “You’ll betray Duster again. I’m going to stop you from hurting him a second time.”

  “So you’ll do it yourself this time?”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed.

  “You’re the one betraying Duster, not me. You’ve imprisoned him, kept him from his son, filled him so full of fear—I know you’re enjoying torturing me, but I’m surprised to learn that you take such depraved pleasure in torturing a man who has practically given up his life for you.” A brutal desire for revenge filled the golden-brown depths of Michael’s eyes. “Then what, Michael? Will you turn your wrath on a little boy? Will you derive pleasure from Scott’s fear too?”

  Anger flared across Michael’s features, clearly showing in how he gripped his glass. Diane felt he wanted to launch himself off his desk and strangle her. But he bit back his fury, or rather swallowed it down when he sipped from his drink. Calmly, he assessed her. “Duster may believe your story that Scott is his, but I do not. My understanding is the Den of Iniquity is your ship. A courtesan ship. Scott could be any man’s son.”

  “Take one look at him, and you’ll know the truth.”

  “That is an excellent suggestion.” Michael lifted his cup to her. “I should take a long, hard look at Scott. Not only at his face, but also his DNA. Frankly, Diane, I wonder if he is even yours.”

  “Go ahead.” Nothing he could do would change the facts. “Prove to yourself with science what you can see with your own eyes.”

  Graceful as a cat, Michael set his drink aside and strode over to her. She expected to smell pungent whiskey on his breath but didn’t. He smelled like…coffee. Craning her head back to keep eye contact, Diane fought down a desire to back away. There wasn’t anywhere for her to go, and retreating from him would show weakness.

  Grasping her shoulders, Michael held her still, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Tell me what you want.”

  Unsure if he could smell the truth on her, or not, she decided to tell him the truth. “I want to live with my husband and son.”

  “Do you love them?”

  “With all my heart.”

  “Would you die for them?”