Caught in Amber (14 page)

Marco grinned down at her and Sterling. It made Sasha want to run from the room and find a hot shower.

Sterling frowned. “I thought you’d want to be here for the first run, Guy.”

“I trust Marco will keep things running smoothly until I get back.”

Sasha’s jaw tensed at his lie. Just last night, Guy had more than implied that he didn’t trust Marco. Left to his own devices, Marco would have a great opportunity to throw his weight around, and possibly more. Was this Guy’s way of trying to catch his second in command at some kind of coup attempt? Worse, with Guy off planet, access to his house and to Kylie would be diminished. Marco wouldn’t want Sterling around to challenge him, but he might let Sasha into the mansion, for a price.

It was not a price she was willing to pay. Damn the void; she needed to end this, now.

“All the way to Weaver, Guy?” she said, drawing the attention of all three. “I hadn’t realized how vast and intricate your organization was. Though I’m not surprised.” She smiled, mustering a veil of admiration she didn’t feel in the least.

Guy smiled back. He’d always been a sucker for flattery.

She’d use that—and everything she knew—to her advantage. “I’d like to understand the operation better, if you’re willing to show me.”

“Sure, sweetness,” Guy said. The endearment made her want to gag, but she kept the smile on her face. She was getting better at hiding herself from others, last night with Sterling being the painful exception. “We can start whenever you’d like.”

“How about tonight?”

Beside her, Sterling’s fingers flexed against the arm of the chair. She sensed the tension that rolled off of him and hoped to God the other two men didn’t see it. “I have another appointment in an hour, Sasha,” he said. “We’ll need to get going soon.”

She resisted the urge to turn to him, to react to his damned protectiveness. “You go on.” She kept her gaze on Guy but felt Sterling’s apprehension increase. “I’m sure Guy will take care of me.”

She’d explain her decision to him as soon as she could, but for now she had to let Guy believe she’d considered his offer of professional involvement and wanted to take him up on it. If it granted deeper access to Guy’s world and allowed her to contact Kylie, both she and Sterling would get what they wanted, without having to wait another month. It was now or never.

Guy smiled and rose. “Absolutely. Let’s finish the tour of the warehouse and then Nate can be on his way.”

She and Sterling stood. He blocked her from following as Guy headed toward the door. Sterling’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in an obvious mute question: What the hell was she thinking?

Sasha patted Sterling’s arm and eased past him, aware that any more contact in front of Guy or Marco would be dangerous. Hell,
any
contact between them was probably dangerous.

What was she thinking? That part of her wanted to show Sterling she could take care of herself, to show him that her only interest was to get this over with, not sleep with him. But most of all, she knew that Marco was a ball-buster, and if someone didn’t get to Kylie before Guy left, they’d be done.

And that someone was her.

Chapter Nine

Christiansen and Sasha led the way down the metal stairs, with Sterling following and Delhomme bringing up the rear. Christiansen had his head tilted toward Sasha’s and the two of them spoke in tones too soft for Sterling to hear; Delhomme’s boots ringing on the metal treads right behind him drowned out their words. Sterling hoped the bastard would hit him with his foot so he could turn around and punch Delhomme. It wouldn’t help anything, other than release the angry frustration coiled in his gut.

Sasha laughed at something Christiansen said, and the drug dealer smiled in response. Sterling suppressed a grimace. She was doing exactly what she needed to do—what
he
needed her to do. When she’d suggested going back to Christiansen’s, Sterling had to fight to keep the surprise off his face. He’d realized what she was up to, that Christiansen’s trip off-world would hamper access to his house and Kylie, but that didn’t mean Sterling had to like the idea. He certainly didn’t like her making the decision without consulting him.

Not that he’d expected her to interrupt Christiansen to ask. She’d recognized the opportunity and acted. He had to admire her quick thinking—hell, she was tougher and smarter than most other CMA agents he worked with—but how could he keep her safe if she was in the hornet’s nest? Alone?

As he reached the last step, Sterling took a long, slow breath in through his nose and released it just as slowly. It was done. Now all he could do was work with it. The frustration and concern would be there, but it couldn’t get in the way.

Christiansen led them through the aisles of towering containers, avoiding the loaders working in the front of the warehouse. “We have a last-minute shipment going out on the twenty-one-hundred flight,” he said as they reached the guarded repackaging area. “I usually don’t like to rush because it rouses attention. Keep that in mind and order in a timely manner, eh, Nate?”

“Understood.”

Christiansen waved off the armed man and stepped closer to the eye-level light panel beside the door. He pressed his palm against a lower panel and said, “Christiansen. Waterloo. Acres.”

After reading his voice, iris and retina patterns, palm print and a host of other biometric characteristics, both the upper and lower panels glowed a soft blue then dimmed.

“A Mansfield A-7 System. That’s top of the line.” Sterling was impressed but not surprised the drug dealer spared no expense to protect his business.

“Can’t be too careful,” Christiansen replied. “This anteroom will give you a good view of the process without having to contact any of the dust.” He glanced at Sasha. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

Christiansen was a ruthless businessman with no conscience or qualms about ruining people’s lives with his product. But there was sincerity in the man’s eyes, concern for Sasha.

Sterling swallowed the growl that threatened to escape his throat. How could a man like that have any sort of a heart? And how could a girl like Sasha—or Kylie, or any of them—be so blind to what he did to others? At least Sasha had figured it out eventually. It had taken her a few years of rehab and jail time, but she knew what Christiansen really was under the suave looks and caring façade.

Didn’t she?

“I’ll be fine,” Sasha said. She smiled, but Sterling noted the strain lines near her mouth.

She didn’t feel the same connection with Christiansen as Christiansen obviously felt with her, and relief washed through Sterling. She was playing her part well. Hopefully not too well. He couldn’t afford to have her caught up in that world again.
She
couldn’t afford it. Not just because it threatened his rescuing Kylie, but because the thought of Sasha returning to that life—by choice or otherwise—made him sick.

Christiansen pushed the door open and gestured for her and Sterling to precede him. “Wait out here, Marco,” he said as he stepped behind Sterling. “We won’t be long.”

The far wall of the three-meter-by-six-meter drab room was almost all window, looking into a larger room. Two people—men, Sterling presumed by their size and bulk—in white hooded coveralls and full facemasks stood against opposite walls holding pulse rifles, while seven others, also wearing coveralls and face masks, sat at two long tables. On the tables, bricks of amber lay in haphazard piles that belied their street value of several hundred thousand credits. The people at the tables used sonic knives to cut the bricks to size then wrapped the pieces in a variety of product packaging Sterling recognized from market shelves and in his own cupboards. In the back of the room, sealed containers ready for shipping or opened and being repacked lined the walls.

“This seems like a small crew for such a vast operation.”

Christiansen nodded toward the window. “This is only one of my packaging units. The smallest one. There are other sites off the grid and dummied by different names and companies.”

Which could explain why the Justice Department hadn’t nailed him yet. For all his public flouting of authority, Christiansen was smart enough to spread out and hide his enterprise from prying eyes.

Sterling noticed the faint tinge of orange-brown in the air of the work room. “Good thing your people are wearing masks.”

“Dust from the cutting is collected through a series of vacuums and filters,” Christiansen said. “I need them functioning here.”

“What do you do with the dust?” Sterling asked as they observed the workers.

“Teasers.” Sasha answered for him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Dealers offer teaser cubes to new customers to get them hooked. Get them coming back to pay more for the good stuff.”

Is that how she’d been lured to the drug, by some low-life street dealer offering her a free hit? Considering the amount of amber Christiansen’s operation moved, it was a reliable strategy. And he was only one of several successful dealers on Nevarro. How many of those teasers were handed out like candy?

Poor kid. Sterling knew how a vulnerable girl, fresh from some Podunk mining town, might get caught up in the life. He wanted to tell her no one could blame her for that, but that wasn’t
his
role right now.

Christiansen put his arm around her shoulder and drew her close. He leaned down, murmured something then kissed the top of her head.

Rage surged through Sterling. He wanted to rip the man’s arm off and beat him to a bloody pulp for what he’d done to her. For touching her. How could Christiansen have loved her if he allowed her to go through years of hell?

The drug dealer caught Sterling’s eye over the top of Sasha’s head. “The dust is mixed with an organic, edible adhesive, so it sticks together but is easily crumbled for consumption. It’s not as pure as the bricks, of course, but it gets the job done. I can have some sent with your first shipment.”

“That sounds great,” Sterling said, the words rasping in his throat. He swallowed twice and peered through the window again. “You trust those guys in there not to pocket any for themselves, to use or sell?”

“Everyone in contact with the product is checked before leaving the room or the building.”

Sterling nodded. “By the guys with the guns?”

“I pay them well enough to ensure their loyalty.” Christiansen chuckled. “And if I didn’t trust
them,
they wouldn’t have weapons, right? Don’t worry, I know who I can trust and who needs watching.”

Sterling nodded again, wondering how Marco Delhomme fared on that list.

“There you have it,” Christiansen continued. “Any questions?”

“Nope.” Sterling turned toward him and Sasha, ignoring the arm still around her shoulder. “I’m good.”

Christiansen guided Sasha to the door and they left the anteroom. Out in the warehouse, Delhomme was leaning against the wall, looking bored, while the guard remained alert for any trouble. What trouble he could possibly find in a well-guarded, secured facility, Sterling couldn’t guess, but the man did his job.

Christiansen nodded to the guard, who grunted and repositioned himself in front of the door.

“Let me know if you have any questions or concerns, Nate,” Christiansen said as the four of them wound their way back to the entrance. “I think Kettrick can be a fairly straightforward operation once we get the initial shipments through.”

“And hopefully profitable,” Sterling added.

Christiansen smiled. “Always.” They stopped at the hall leading to the door Sterling and Sasha entered earlier, and the drug dealer held out his hand. His other arm stayed around Sasha’s shoulder. “Glad you came by tonight. We’ll talk again before I leave next week.”

Sterling shook his hand. When they released, he looked at Sasha. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sure,” she said in a flat tone. Did that mean she knew he’d be expecting a call from her soon, to say she was all right? Her face and voice gave away nothing. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

He turned and casually strolled down the hall to the door, each footstep sounding like failure. Failure to anticipate the lengths Sasha might have to go to. Failure to find a way to stay with her. Failure to prepare her for dealing with Christiansen on her own. No matter that it was her call, her decision. It still felt wrong to leave her behind.

Out in the cold night air, Sterling cast a last glance at the door as it locked behind him. He walked to his car, hands shoved in his pockets. Aware that Christiansen had cameras covering him, he got in and drove away, ignoring the feeling his head was about to explode. Like it was only natural for him to leave a former addict with one of the worst dealers on the planet.

And leaving the woman he’d sworn to protect in a dangerous situation was the best way to show he cared what became of her.

Sterling drove out of the industrial park, past the guards at the gate, his hands white-knuckled on the controls. Less than a kilometer from the site, he pulled over and pounded the dashboard with both fists. “Fuck!” He slammed out each successive syllable. “Fuck fuck fuck!”

He struck the dash once more, anger momentarily spent and his hands throbbing. He ran both palms over his face, through his hair, inadvertently turning off the recorder he’d forgotten about until the indicator light winked out in his peripheral vision.

Taking deep, ragged breaths, he rubbed the heel of his hand over the scar on his forehead. If anything happened to her while she was alone with Christiansen... If Delhomme dared to do anything—anything—to hurt her...

He would kill them. Simple as that.

* * *

Guy took Sasha’s hand and helped her out of the car. “Careful, it’s slippery.”

The walkway up to the front door glistened with melted snow, the embedded heat coils doing their job. But if Guy wanted to show her his gallant side, Sasha wasn’t about to snub him. The house wasn’t as well lit as the night before, but there were lights on to indicate someone was home. When she was with him, somewhere between six and twelve people made up Guy’s entourage on any given day.

“How many people are here?”

“Ten on staff and about half a dozen...friends.” His gaze shifted to her. “No one special.”

Sasha’s stomach rolled, but she neither flinched nor gave any encouragement. It was dangerous that she’d asked to come home with him. Dangerous but necessary.

Kenneth opened the front door for them then took their coats. Genevieve Caine stood nearby, her hands clasped at her waist. The soft green sweater and brown trousers were far more demure than the red dress she’d worn the night before. Her hair pulled back in a sleek tail, the subdued clothing and low heels didn’t diminish her bearing in the least. Sasha found herself straightening her posture in an attempt to measure up to the composed blonde.

Genevieve waited for Kenneth to leave the foyer before approaching. “Good to see you again, Miss James.” She smiled, but Sasha couldn’t tell if it was sincere or mocking. “Will Mr. Hollings be joining you this evening?”

Something akin to jealousy flared in Sasha’s chest. No, not akin. It
was
jealousy, and she had no right to feel it. She crossed her arms and rubbed them as if chilled, keeping the unbidden emotion at bay. “No, he won’t.”

Genevieve’s smile ebbed a notch. Was she disappointed? Too bad.

Guy took Sasha’s arm and guided her toward the hall leading to his office. “We don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Yes, sir.” Genevieve glanced at his hand then met Sasha’s gaze. What was she thinking behind that cool perusal? Probably that Sasha was nothing more than another of Guy’s playthings. She held Genevieve’s stare until she and Guy passed, refusing to explain herself. Not that she could.

Their footfalls echoed down the empty hall.

“Where is everyone?” Sasha asked.

Guy unlocked the office door with similar biometric readings as those used at the warehouse. He pressed his thumb to the black stone on the lever. When the lock disengaged, he held the door open for her. “Probably at the pool. It’s become somewhat of a nightly ritual.”

“Pool?” Sasha entered the office and the lights rose.

Guy shut the door behind them and passed her to get to his desk. “I had it put in a couple of years ago. Off the conservatory.” He dragged one of the visitor’s chairs beside his larger chair and patted the back of it, indicating she should sit. “We’ll go over some basics first.”

Sasha hesitated. He could have called up a holo screen that she would be able to see from the visitor’s side of the desk. But no. He wanted her beside him. She lowered herself into the chair, waiting for him to touch her. He didn’t. He helped scoot the chair closer to the desk so she could see the SI screen then sat in his own chair. He tapped the desktop and the screen came to life, along with a standard keyboard projected on the dark wood.

Guy flicked an icon, and a multicolored graph filled the screen. “This is an overview of production and distribution for my business and the two other major dealers on Nevarro.”

“You know how much your competitors sell?”

“More or less. Helps to know how the market shares fall out.”

Amber dealing never seemed so pedestrian to her before now.

He tapped a green line, and some text appeared beside it. “Kimball, down in Pembroke, is selling about seventy million grams per annum. She’s grown six percent this past year.” Tap on a red line. “But Spencer, over on the South Continent, has declined this year. Kimball and I are vying for his territory.”