Caught in Amber (15 page)

“It won’t get dangerous, will it?”

Guy laughed. “No. At this level, it’s all very civilized. Further down the ladder, where I distribute to local dealers, it can get ugly. That’s where Marco comes in.”

“He keeps the local dealers in line?” From some of the menacing folks lingering about her old neighborhood, it would take someone like Marco to keep them from killing each other or stealing from Guy.

Staring at the screen, he leaned back in his chair and smoothed his palm over his mouth and chin. “Yeah. Marco’s been with me for a long time, took care of a lot of problems that came my way.” Sasha could only imagine what those problems were and how Marco dealt with them. “But lately...I just don’t know.” He slanted a glance toward her and rubbed his jaw.

Sasha recognized the gesture as indecision, a rarity in Guy Christiansen. What was he considering? What she should hear about Marco? Whether he could trust her not to repeat whatever he wanted to say? It was obvious that something was bothering him.

“Forget it, Guy.” She patted his arm and gave him a small smile. “You told me last night about your doubts with him. I don’t need specifics. You’re probably feeling like you can’t trust anyone.”

He sat up, startled. “No, it’s not that I don’t trust you. I just don’t want you to get caught up in this thing with Marco, whatever it is. He’s a dangerous man. I don’t want him hassling you to get to me.”

Sasha appreciated his concern on some level, but it was too late for her to avoid Marco’s attention.

“I heard Marco approached some of my street guys on his own,” Guy continued. “He may be making a move to carve out his own piece of my business.”

Sasha’s eyes widened. “That’s gutsy.” And suicidal. No one in his right mind crossed Guy without repercussions.

Present company excepted? Not really. She’d definitely paid a price, just not to him directly. Sasha kept her reaction as normal as she could as one word formed in her brain:
yet.

Guy tapped another icon on the screen and a different graph appeared. “He’s smart enough not to do anything so blatant as steal credits or product, but word of mouth has him conversing about changing supply schedules and modes of distribution.”

“Without telling you?”

He gave her a wry grin and shook his head. “I give my people a certain amount of leeway, but they need to keep me apprised. Funny thing is, I’d have given him his own territory in a year or so as a token of appreciation.”

“Sounds like he got impatient.” Another Guy rule. Patience and loyalty went far with him.

He blew out a weary breath. “Maybe. Can we continue this some other time, sweetness? I’m not in the mood to talk business all of a sudden.”

The fact that he’d given her even that much insight into his troubles was more than she’d expected. Best not to press her luck too far too soon.

Sasha slid her chair back and stood. “Sure. We have time.” Not really, but she didn’t want to torque him.

He smiled. “Thanks. How about I show you the pool? I could use a swim.”

She led the way to the door. If lounging at the pool had become a nightly ritual for Guy and his friends, would she see Kylie there? As they walked through the halls, Sasha considered how to approach Sterling’s kid sister.

* * *

Sterling parked in front of the Revivalist Hall, not surprised he’d found a spot. Only a few ground cars sat along a three-block stretch; Revivalists in the larger cities weren’t big on private transportation. He got out, secured the vehicle and headed down the alley, shoulders hunched against the cold. His stomach rumbled, a reminder he hadn’t eaten since that afternoon. Some InstaHeat soup would suffice. He’d learned long ago that agency work made for odd hours and always had a few cans on hand.

Sasha was probably dining with Christiansen. What would the drug dealer serve for their first meal together? Not InstaHeat soup, that much he knew. Would Christiansen expect her to fall for the lure of her former lifestyle?

He’d be a fool to think it would work. Sasha knew the glitz and expensive meals were too high a price to pay. She was stronger than he or Christiansen initially gave her credit for, but Sterling was learning. Still, he worried that Christiansen would push her too far while he wasn’t around.

His shoes crunched on the grit in the alley, the sound echoing off the walls of the Hall and the neighboring furniture store. The light over the entry to his room was out, deepening the shadows made by discarded pallets and trash bins beside the buildings. Probably best to just fix the light himself than tell the manager, he thought as his false eye automatically adjusted to the poor light.

Across from the door, a figure stood against the damp bricks of the furniture store. The hairs on Sterling’s neck prickled. He kneeled down as if needing to adjust his boot and reached for the stunner in his ankle holster.

“Don’t shoot,” a calm, feminine voice said. “It’s me.”

He registered the voice with surprise. The night-vision mode of his artificial eye confirmed his visitor’s identity. “You’re lucky I
didn’t
shoot first, Hallowell.” Sterling rose and brushed grime off his knee, eyeing her warily.

The tall, slender CMA agent eased away from the wall, hands in the side pockets of her overcoat. “I trusted you’d see me before it got that far.”

“Trust can be an iffy thing. What do you want?”

“Just seeing how you’re doing.” Hallowell had his comm details, which included a locator, in case he needed her. She was one of the only people he’d trusted with the information. Still, her presence here was unnecessary.

Unless something was wrong.

She rubbed her palms together and blew on them, her breath a billowing silver cloud in his enhanced vision. “Can we go inside? I forgot my gloves.”

Sterling rolled his eyes and turned to unlock the door. Natalia Hallowell had a knack for playing vacuous women, but she was one of the sharpest agents—one of the sharpest people—he knew. She hadn’t forgotten her gloves, and she wanted to talk about more than his welfare. Damn the void.

“Watch your step,” he said as she followed him in. “And push the door hard when you close it. The latch is stiff.”

She followed his instructions. Her boots clanged on the metal stairs behind him.

In his room, Sterling turned on the light. His false eye readjusted and he motioned Hallowell to take either the chair or sit on his narrow bed. She chose the chair, smoothing her overcoat under herself and crossing her ankles beneath the seat. There was little room for her long legs in the space between the two pieces of furniture.

Sterling hung his coat on the peg on the back of the door and stood at the foot of the bed. “You didn’t have to get dressed up for me.”

“I’m a mess, I know.” She smirked and flicked at a stain on the dusty overcoat. It was a second-or third-hand garment, judging from the wear at different places near the elbows, not the crisp, black model she usually wore to the office. “I was checking out a lead before I came over. The Hannigan case.”

That explained the chestnut coloring of her normally blond hair. Eyebrows too, and enough subdermal alteration of her features to throw off identification if you didn’t know her. Hallowell was good at little details. It made her an excellent undercover agent.

“How’s it going?” he asked as he sat across from her but to the side, so their knees wouldn’t knock together. Springs creaked and the mattress sagged beneath him.

She shrugged. “Lots of dead ends and rumors I can’t substantiate, but I’ll crack it.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Hallowell ran a hand through her damp, mussed hair. “Garces is bugging the hell out of me,” she said, getting down to business. “He’s been asking where you are for the past week, and I’m having a hard time convincing him you’re incommunicado.”

Sterling crossed his arms. Their supervisor was a huge pain in the ass on a good day. “He approved my personal leave. Told me half a dozen times in the past five years I needed a vacation.”

“Yeah, but you never took more than a few days off before now. Even when your father died. And you always checked in.”

He gave a humorous laugh. “So now he’s suspicious. First he gripes I don’t take leave, now he’s unhappy when I do.”

“Garces knows you well enough.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and hands clasped. “And so do I. What’s going on?”

He recognized the to-the-point technique she used on witnesses or suspects, but it wouldn’t work on him. He wasn’t about to drag her into his problems. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

One shapely eyebrow rose. “I’m sure, but it doesn’t mean you
should
handle it alone. That’s what partners are for.”

He wasn’t alone, not really. She didn’t need to have that information either. He’d trusted her with his location, but he knew better than to get her involved. Plausible deniability of his actions would keep her record clean.

Sterling didn’t move, didn’t twitch a muscle. Or didn’t think he had. Hallowell must have read something in his face or body language. Her eyes narrowed.

“Personal, or something that could get you into trouble at the agency?” She stared at him, neither of them changing position. “Or both?”

Damn, she was good. Her excellent undercover skills and the uncanny ability to read the most subtle changes in expression or body language made her one of the best agents on his team. But he couldn’t tell her. Risking her career by revealing his activities was out of the question. It was bad enough he’d involved Sasha, a civilian. That alone could get him suspended, and he had accepted the fact his own career probably wouldn’t survive the end of this operation.

“I’ll contact Garces in the morning, but I’ll need another week before coming in.”

She held his gaze for a few heartbeats then nodded. “One week. If you send him a ‘Having a great time, wish you were here’ message, I can distract him for that long.” She rose and tightened the sash on her coat. “No more than that, though.”

Sterling nodded, followed her to the door and held it open. “Thanks, Natalia.”

“Call me if you need anything.” She strode into the hall and withdrew a pair of thin leather gloves from her pocket. “And get some sleep. You look like hell.”

Her footsteps rang on the metal treads as she descended. The outer door screeched open then thumped closed.

Sterling closed and locked the door. He fished the comm out of his coat pocket and made the three-step trip back to the bed. On the dresser, colorful cans of InstaHeat soup reminded him he still hadn’t eaten, but he wasn’t hungry anymore.

He sat on the bed, called up Sasha’s chip ID on the comm and tapped the locator icon.

A green triangle blinked near the coordinates of Christiansen’s house. All her bio readouts read normal. She wasn’t under excessive stress. For some reason, that didn’t make him feel any better.

Sterling lay down on his side and bunched the thin pillow under his head, staring at the flashing green symbol.

Chapter Ten

Guy pointed out the improvements and upgrades he’d made to the house structure and security as he and Sasha strolled the high-ceilinged halls on the way to the conservatory.

“Most of this,” he said, “was done while you were recovering.”

She nodded and pretended to admire the new subtle blue of the walls, her lips pressed together.

Recovering. Recuperating. As if she’d contracted some exotic illness or parasite. She suppressed a humorless laugh at that. Amber
was
a kind of parasite. It got inside you and ate away at your soul as well as your body. Recovery wasn’t simply a matter of taking some meds or zapping an offending bug with rads or sonics.

Some users were able to shake their addiction by avoiding the drug. For others—like Sasha—only the nanos released by the chip quelled the physical ache. The psychological desire was another matter. Walking into The Morrissey the other night, seeing the film of amber dust on the table, inhaling the sweet aroma of citrus and cinnamon and the promise of euphoria had nearly done her in. If Sterling hadn’t been on the other end of the transmitter, waiting for her to come back to him, what would have happened?

Of course, she wouldn’t have been within a klick of Guy to begin with, but here she was now. Sterling was counting on her to get to his sister, to save Kylie from the kind of hell Sasha had endured. Or worse, the fate of those two women Guy discarded because they hadn’t pleased him for some reason or another.

Because they weren’t
you,
that’s why
.

A wave of dizziness dimmed her vision. Sasha stopped and closed her eyes, drew a slow breath through her nose to steady herself.

“You okay?” He laid his hand on her shoulder, and she fought the urge to shrug him off and run.

She managed a shaky smile as she looked up at him. “Just a little lightheaded. Haven’t eaten since this morning.”

Guy shook his head, lips pursed in reproach. “Why didn’t you say something?” He withdrew his comm from his pocket and tapped. “We’ll have a late dinner by the pool. South Island coho all right?”

Her favorite fish dish, he knew, and an item she could never afford on her grocery-store salary. Perhaps one she couldn’t afford now. “Thanks, that’ll be great.”

Guy grinned at her and opened the glass door to the conservatory. “The pool is past the bar.”

Under the steamy green canopy, the rich scent of earth and flowers filled her, the only illumination from soft lights along the path. She gazed up through the center of the clear domed roof at the spiraling snow. Rivulets ran down the plasti-glass.

“You’d spend hours here,” Guy said, his voice hushed as if in a church, “lying on the ground under the most open spot, staring up at the sky.”

Sasha nodded, her throat suddenly felt thick, making it difficult to speak. He knew she’d spent time in the conservatory, but did he realize why? Did he know she’d come in here if he’d denied her amber and she couldn’t find Marco to slip her some? The only thing that helped calm the craving—temporarily, at least—was the warmth and humidity that enveloped her. By staring at the falling snow or following the trickle of melt, she could forget the pain. The need. The humiliation of begging him for more.

“Through here.” Guy pointed at a door to the right of the stone bar. Bottles on the glass shelves gave off faint reflections of the path lights.

He opened the door to a short, curved hallway and she was met by the sound of voices and laughter. Sasha blinked as her eyes adjusted to the brighter lighting. The color on the walls ebbed and flowed from emerald to aqua to teal to a blue so pale it was almost white.

They emerged from the curve of the hall as a young man launched himself off the board at the far end of the pool, executing a perfect dive into the deep end. At the shallow end, several people applauded. In rainbow-colored lounge chairs beside the pool, four young women and a dark-haired man chatted and laughed. Two of the women were blonde; the other two had light auburn hair. None of them looked like they’d been near the water.

“Jimmy was colonial diving champ his last four years at university,” Guy said, sounding like a proud father as the diver cut through the water. “He almost made it to the Outer World finals this year. Shoulder injury just before qualifiers took too long to heal.”

Sasha wondered how much of his recovery was hindered by amber.

“Guy,” called the man sitting beside the pool with the four women, “we need you to settle something for us.”

Guy smiled his bright smile and took Sasha’s hand to lead her over to them. The man grinned, but three of the women had smiles that didn’t reach their eyes. Did they fear Guy was adding to the competition for his attention? The fourth woman had her head turned, watching Jimmy climb out of the pool.

The two blondes were identical, down to their strapless, white one-piece suits, and about ten years younger than Sasha. They quickly shifted their gazes to Guy and smiled. Sasha guessed the redhead was closer to her own age and, she realized, they had similar features. Wearing skimpy blue bottoms and a matching gauzy blouse, the woman toyed with the single button, popping it open to reveal the tops of generous breasts. Well, they shared
some
features. Sasha felt a trickle of sweat travel down her back beneath her sweater.

The other redhead wore only a pair of plum-colored shorts. A dry towel was draped across the back of the chair. Fair, freckled skin was in no danger of sun damage under the protection of Guy’s home. Or anywhere on Nevarro, come to think of it.

“What’s the question, Billy?” Guy asked.

The younger redhead looked up.

Kylie.

She grinned, her smile more genuine than the others. And in her blue eyes—so much like her brother’s—the glaze of amber.

Sasha’s chest twinged. She knew the mere presence of the girl in Guy’s house meant she was probably using, but seeing it for herself made Sasha’s heart break a little. What had gone through Sterling’s head when he’d seen his little sister here last night? How had he managed to keep from grabbing her hand and hauling her out to the car? Sasha could only imagine the torment of his inability to act at that moment.

Billy gestured toward the blondes. “Maddie and Rhianna think Ronson is going to take the title this year, but Jillian and I say Littlefield. What do you think?”

Guy made a pensive face and paused before answering. The name Littlefield sounded familiar to Sasha. Guy owned interest in several cage fighters’ careers when she was with him. She’d spent plenty of evenings at the arena, mostly ignoring the blood sport playing out before her, or in Guy’s suite of rooms upstairs while he watched holo matches taking place on the other side of Nevarro. Surely Billy and these women knew Guy’s preference.

“Well,” Guy said, drawing out the word as if he needed to consider his opinion, “Ronson is quick and strong, but Littlefield is bigger and more experienced.” He nodded sagely. “My money’s on Littlefield.”

“Told you,” Billy said to Maddie. Or Rhianna.

The blonde twins giggled. Jillian smirked at them and settled back against the lounger.

“Who’s Littlefield?” Kylie asked.

With her hand still in Guy’s, Sasha felt his grip increase briefly. “
My
fighter,” he said.

Kylie’s eyes widened, and her grin evaporated. “Oh.”

“I get them confused all the time.” Sasha smiled down at the girl. “They start to look alike after a while.”

“You used to know them,” Guy said. The tension eased from his hand.

Sasha shrugged. “It’s been a few years.”

Sasha noticed Jillian’s eyebrows quirk upward then relax back to into an expression of cool appraisal. “Who’s your new friend, Guy?”

Guy released her hand, but not to let her go. He slid his arm around her shoulder. Sasha kept herself from squirming or shrugging him off. “Old friend, really.”

He introduced everyone.

Billy gave her an enthusiastic hello but stayed seated. The three women murmured greeting. Only Kylie rose, snatched the towel off the back of her chair, draped it over her shoulders to cover herself and extended a hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

Sasha shook her hand, unable to keep a smile off her face. Old-fashioned politeness, as she’d expect from someone in Sterling’s family. Like him seeing her to her door or holding her arm as she navigated a slick walkway. Little things that made him who he was. Even an amber haze couldn’t completely erase something so deeply embedded in her makeup.

“Nice to meet you, too,” she replied, and meant it. “It’s good to know I’m not the only one who can’t tell one brawny boxer from the other.”

Kylie gave a nervous laugh, her gaze flicking to Guy then back to Sasha. “I know Guy loves the sport. I need to learn more about it.”

“No worries.” His earlier irritation seemed to evaporate. He smiled at the girl. “It’s not important.”

But Sasha knew it
was
important to Guy that his entourage kept up with his personal interests. From the faltered grin on her face, Kylie knew it too.

“Maybe we can brush up on the fighters’ stats together,” Sasha suggested.

“Are you sticking around?” Jillian asked. She sounded uninterested, but suspicion and jealousy lined her face.

“Sasha and I are getting reacquainted.” Guy moved Sasha away from the group, forcing her to release Kylie’s hand or drag the girl with them. “I’m sure you’ll get to know each other soon enough.”

Sasha waved to Kylie and was rewarded with an answering wave and smile before she sat down again.

“We’ll eat over here,” Guy said, pointing toward a circular table for two away from the pool. “If you want, we can swim after dinner.”

He held out the chair that faced her away from the others, and she had no choice but to sit with her back to Kylie. “That sounds refreshing.”

“Don’t mind them,” he said as he took his seat. “They’re a little wary of new people.”

“They seem...nice.”

What a lie. Kylie might be nice, and Billy seemed happy another female was around. The twin blondes virtually ignored her, and Jillian was just short of being openly hostile. As the oldest woman among them, did she feel threatened by Sasha?

“They’re mostly ass-kissing amber hounds.” A sneer flickered across his face as he stared at the group by the pool. “But keeping them around draws the right demographic.”

Sasha ran her fingertip over the etched pattern in the glass table top. “Is that all you use them for? To bring in business? They’re all so beautiful, I thought maybe—”

Guy’s gaze snapped to meet hers. “No. I’ll admit to sleeping with a few of them, but nothing more. A man has needs, Sasha.”

“So do women.”

As the words slipped out, the memory of sharing a kiss with Sterling caught her breath. His mouth on hers, his chest pressed to her breasts, the fire that zinged through her when his fingers grazed her bare skin. The need. There had been no one to fulfill
her
needs in the last five years. Too busy trying to stay clean, she hadn’t realized she even had them. Until Sterling.

“I know.” Guy covered her hand with his, stopping her fidgeting. “And right now, you need me as much as I need you.”

The feel of his skin on hers doused her desire like ice water. Sasha slid her hand out from under his. “For business. That’s all.”

He sat up straighter, his fingertips pressed white against the table. He smiled, but it was strained, bordering on frustrated. “Of course. Whenever you’re ready.”

That would be never. “I appreciate that.”

Sasha turned her head, breaking eye contact with him. Breaking the connection she felt he was trying to develop.

A woman in a white tunic and trousers emerged from the hall, carrying a covered tray. She approached their table with purposeful strides. “The wine is on its way, sir.”

“Thank you,” Guy said as she uncovered the tray and set two plates of steaming, pink-fleshed fish and assorted vegetables before them. From a pocket in her tunic, she produced linen napkins and heavy silverware. “Smells wonderful.”

The chef smiled. “Thank you, sir. Miss.” She gave Sasha a quick nod and walked away with the tray.

The aroma of the perfectly cooked fish wafted under Sasha’s nose. She inhaled and her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

“Dig in,” Guy said.

Sasha cut a morsel with the edge of her fork and took a bite. The succulent flesh was moist and lightly seasoned so the natural flavor of the coho shined. She closed her eyes in appreciation as she swallowed.

“Like it?”

She opened her eyes and smiled. “I haven’t eaten anything this good for a long time.”

He grinned. “If there’s anything special you want, just ask.”

There was more to his offer than dinner options. Sasha lowered her gaze to her plate and ate without another word.

In a few moments, Genevieve Caine, wearing a snug, black jumpsuit and carrying a green bottle and two crystal glasses, approached their table from the blue hallway. She put the goblets down and filled them with pink wine.

“You’re the sommelier as well?” Sasha asked, looking up at her.

Genevieve grinned. “It’s more of a hobby.” She turned to Guy. “Actually, Mr. Christiansen, there’s a matter that needs your attention.”

Guy sipped his wine and carefully set the glass down before replying. “Can’t it wait? We’re eating.”

Genevieve clasped her hands behind her back. “Not really, sir.”

He sighed as if in frustration, but something else gleamed in his eyes. Anger? Anticipation? Whatever it was, it was enough to cause him to stand up and lay his napkin beside his plate. “Sorry, Sasha. Eat your dinner before it gets cold. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be fine.” His absence would give her the chance to talk to Kylie.

“Let’s go.” Guy led his assistant out of the pool area.

Sasha glanced at Kylie and the others chatting and laughing. Jillian’s gaze met Sasha’s. The redhead glared then turned her attention back to Billy. Sasha wanted to assure her she could have Guy, but she doubted Jillian would believe her.

Sasha drank the rest of her wine in a few swallows, stood and walked toward the group. Billy and Kylie looked up as she drew near. The two blondes and Jillian kept talking as if she wasn’t there.