Caught in Amber (4 page)

Sasha laughed at his childhood antics. Unguarded moments brought out a side of her Sterling liked. A side of her he’d bet hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time.

As if realizing she’d let him see too much, she sobered, her features closing to him once again. She cleared her throat. “What do you need me to do?”

Mentally, Sterling shook his head at her wariness. Damn Christiansen for what he’d done to her. “Introduce me as a potential amber dealer, someone who can expand his distribution in a new direction.”

The muscles in her jaw tensed. “What better way to get close to him than be the same kind of low-life bastard he is, right?”

“Exactly. I’ll be a guard you met at rehab, someone who works the system as well as works for it.”

“That’ll sound true enough,” she said with a wry grin.

Sterling ran his hand over his damp hair. “Yeah, as frustrating as that is in real life, it works to our advantage.”

“So you’ll be a guard-cum-drug dealer at the rehab center.” She shrugged and shook her head, dismissing the set-up. “Those are a demi-cred a dozen. He’ll never bite on that.”

“Not at the rehab center. I’ll propose dealing at one of the correctional mines.”

Not to say there wasn’t drug use in the correctional mines, but it was underexploited territory for amber dealers because of the high security of the facilities. There’d been a shake-up at Exeter Mining a few months before, when the company had flouted CMA practice standards and the development of their revolutionary K-73 filters hit a lethal snag.

The scandal had been brought to a head by the unlikeliest of people—Liv Braxton, a corporate blackmailer who fell in love with Exeter’s VP of research, Zia Talbot. Sterling had more than enough evidence to slam Exeter for its unethical, deadly research, and the fallout prompted a flurry of increased safety measures, tighter regulations and harsher penalties. Exeter’s disgrace now brought the CMA running for the slightest infraction, both in government-run correctional mines and in the private sector.

Illegal ventures were difficult to pull off, but not impossible. If he could convince Christiansen selling amber in the correctional mines was doable, he might be able to forge a relationship with the drug dealer and get close enough to Kylie to get her out. Sterling’s position at the agency gave him plenty of inside information and some room to maneuver between departments, allowing him to create a scenario he hoped Christiansen wouldn’t be able to resist.

He also hoped his superiors would understand, as his wasn’t a sanctioned operation. Easier to ask for forgiveness for stepping on Justice Department toes than for permission. Maybe. And if he lost his job or became an inmate himself over his plan? Well, that was a risk he was more than willing to take.

The CMA and Justice Department weren’t his only worries. If Christiansen discovered he wasn’t who he claimed to be, it would likely get him killed and possibly put Kylie and Sasha in danger. He was used to the challenges of undercover work. Involving civilians was another matter.

Sasha stared at him, doubt clear on her face. “Do you really think you can pull that off?”

“We just have to make Christiansen think I can.” He grinned at her, but she didn’t seem to share his confidence. His smile faltered. “Without you, he probably wouldn’t see me at all. With you, maybe I can get close enough, get inside fast enough to get Kylie out of there.”

A sadness darkened her eyes. “If she sees you first, if she learns you’re there to get her, she’ll hide. Or tell Guy. You know that, don’t you?”

Her words and expression spoke of experience, making him wince. Had Sasha hidden from her family when they tried to retrieve her from Christiansen’s hold? Had they given up on her? Was that why there was no record of them ever coming to visit her at the NCRC? No record of a comm call or message in the last five years?

He couldn’t imagine abandoning his sister like that, but would she spurn him and their family for the drug? If she were caught in amber, Kylie wouldn’t care about him, wouldn’t care if Christiansen threw him out or maybe even killed him. The idea of his own little sister turning on him made Sterling shake with pain and anger. He knew amber did strange things to users, and he prayed he could get Kylie out before she sank that far.

“I know. For some reason, Kylie’s PR position doesn’t allow her to travel away from his compound very often. When she does, it’s with Christiansen or a bunch of other people.” Or was it her position with the bastard himself that kept her locked away behind the gate and walls? Either way, Sterling knew it was risky to infiltrate the drug dealer’s world, but he had no choice. “That’s why I need you to get me an in. If I can get past Christiansen, I can try to find her on my own. As long as I see her before she sees me, I have a good chance of getting her out.”

Kylie’s life, and the lives of who knew how many women who followed her, might depend on it. He knew Sasha realized it as well, but fear of Christiansen lurked in her eyes.

“He won’t believe me,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll mess up.”

“No, you won’t. You’ll be fine.” She had to pave the way for him or he was back at square one. “Christiansen’ll be wary of you coming back into his life, but if you can convince him you’re trying to make peace, it’ll work.”

“Guy’s no fool. After the way I talked to him last time we were in the same room, he’ll expect I’m up to something.”

“I know.”

Her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head. “And you’ll counter that how? With a note from my parole agent attesting to the sincerity of my backslide?”

“You’ll tell him what he wants to hear, Sasha.” He shifted on the bed, their knees less than a hand-span apart as he leaned closer. The flowery scent of her shampoo reminded him just how close they were. And how much closer they could be with the slightest shift of his body. “What he
needs
to hear from you.”

“Which is?”

“That you were wrong to leave him.” She stiffened but said nothing, maybe too incensed to speak, so he continued. “You were wrong—you couldn’t make it on the outside without him. Your stint at the NCRC told you that much and more, and now you want to make it up to him.”

“And if he doesn’t believe me?” Her voice was quiet with worry. The soft puffs of her breath he felt on his cheek made his gut quiver.

Swallowing hard, Sterling shrugged and sat back, feigning a casual manner he didn’t feel in the least. “Your part is done, and I try something else.”

“That’s it? I can walk away?” She sounded doubtful.

“Your Level Two status stays. I swear to that.”

“But if I can get you in, you’ll get the chip deactivated.”

He nodded, unable to speak the lie. If he left any room for doubt, she would never agree to work with him.

Sterling cleared his throat and swallowed the lump that nearly choked him. His job often had him bending the truth, if not outright lying. Why was it so difficult this time? His original plan to make her a simple deal of parole status upgrade had become a promise for something he wasn’t sure he could keep, and he felt guilty for lying to her.

“If Guy throws me out first thing,” she said, “I’m no worse off than I am now. Except he remembers I’m alive.”

“Trust me, he remembers now.”

Fear darkened her face and Sasha dropped her gaze to her feet. She took two deep breaths, as if gathering her strength. When she looked at him again, the fear was tempered by something else. Determination? Anger? Disgust? “And if he believes me? If he believes I want to work with him, to...be with him?”

Her voice was low, a rough whisper of dread. They both knew what going back to Christiansen, going back into that world, could do to her. Could she resist the opportunity to return to that lifestyle, even if it negated every struggle she’d been through for the past eight years?

Sterling surrounded one of her hands with both of his. Her skin, cool at first, warmed quickly. He thought she’d pull away, but instead her fist relaxed. He felt the heat of her palm against his fingers as he slid his hand into hers. They fit well together, and he couldn’t help stroking the back of her fingers with his thumb. Her eyes widened, the dark pupils expanding to leave a ring of stormy gray iris.

“I promise to keep you safe. I won’t let him hurt you. We’ll get you away from him. Data wipe, relocation. Whatever you need.”

“You can’t make that promise,” she said, her voice still no louder than a whisper. “I know what he’s capable of. Those pictures...” She shuddered but held his gaze, challenging him. “What do you have to protect me and your sister from that?”

The answer was easy and came to him without hesitation. He emphasized the words by tightening his grip on her hands. She grasped his harder, as if knowing what was to come. “My life. I’ll protect you with my life.”

Doubt flickered then receded from her eyes. She trusted that he’d protect her. Trusted that he’d help her get her life back. No matter what happened, if he and Sasha lived through this, he was going to get the chip deactivated for her.

“Okay,” she said softly.

Left hand still in hers, Sterling raised his right hand, cupped her jaw and brushed the pad of his thumb across her cheek.

Sasha didn’t move.

Relief and gratitude thickened his voice. “Thank you,” he said.

She closed her eyes, brows drawn together. For the briefest moment, she pressed her cheek against his palm. Warmth seeped into his skin, and Sterling stifled a groan. He could lean forward and kiss her. How would she taste? What would her mouth—her body—feel like against his?

He moved toward her, his breath stirring strands of hair near her cheek. The bed creaked.

Tension shimmered through her and her eyes snapped open. He jerked back. Sasha turned away from his touch, snatching her hand from his. Her face flushed, as if she’d read his thoughts.

What the hell was wrong with him? He dug his fingers into his palms, bringing an iota of sense back with the pain. It was bad enough to use her to get to Christiansen, but to even consider using her for himself made him worse than the criminal who had his sister.

He lowered his hands to his lap. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Just because I agreed to help doesn’t mean I agreed to—to—” Flustered, her cheeks darkened. Was she mortified by what he’d done? Embarrassed she’d let him? She stood and sidestepped toward the door, nearly knocking him back on the bed. Her clenched hands stuck out of the heavy wool sleeves of her coat. “Doesn’t mean you can assume anything.”

“I don’t.” He rose, slowly, determined not to make another stupid move. “It won’t happen again.” A small voice in the back of his head cursed that notion, but it was for the best. He couldn’t let himself get involved with her.

“No, it won’t.” Arms wrapped around her middle again, the flint of determination was back in her eyes, this time directed toward him, not Christiansen. “I have to get back. Just give me the details and call a taxi, please.”

* * *

The air taxi’s lifters whined as it rose from the curb in front of the NCRC rooming house then whooshed away to its next fare. Sasha stood on the walkway for several moments. She shivered in the chilled night air, but her cheek still felt warm and tingly where Sterling’s thumb had brushed across her skin. How long had it been since anyone had touched her with such gentleness and meant it? When had anyone ever offered his life to keep her safe?

Never, because it wasn’t real, was it? It was never real.

Sasha shook her head as she approached the three icy steps leading to the front door of the Corrections-run building, knocking fanciful thoughts aside.

“Hey, baby,” called a voice from her left. “Want a little something to warm ya up?”

No, that life hadn’t been real.
This
was.

A figure hunched in the shadows two doors down. She didn’t know the man—didn’t want to know him—but he waited there almost every night. Asked her the same question once or twice a week. She never acknowledged him and always pretended she hadn’t heard him. Sometimes Daniel, one of the other residents, wandered over and returned to the house glassy-eyed and grinning. She made it a point to avoid Daniel. He wasn’t chipped against amber use but should have been.

Sasha pulled her coat closer and hurried up the steps as fast as she could without slipping. Five centis of snow had accumulated since she and Sterling left the club, and it was still coming down. Built-in thermals throughout the city kept the streets and walkways clear for the most part, but icy patches made walking dicey.

Pellets of ice stung her cheeks as Sasha palmed the access panel beside the scarred door. The reader activated with a soft
whirr
and she swore she felt the side of her neck heat as the invisible beam scanned her.

“James, Sasha,” said the monotone electronic voice. “NCRC number 347-95-95. Access granted.” Mechanisms in the door and frame clicked, releasing the lock.

When she’d first arrived at the rooming house, Sasha had wondered why the system confirmed a resident’s identity aloud. Couldn’t it just let you in or not? Jules set her straight on that account. According to the dancer, it was the Corrections Department’s way of reminding you what a piece of shit you were. That they owned you. Sasha wasn’t sure if that was true, but for the past eight months, every time she returned to the house, she had to agree that it worked. Score one for Corrections.

Snow swirled against her ankles as she entered the foyer. She closed the door and stood with her back against the cool metal. Stairs on the left led up to four stories of rooms, mostly occupied. The counselor’s flat was on the right, and the hallway in front of her ended in a commons/dining room and kitchen. There was no sign of anyone. The odor of stuffed peppers hung in the air.

Despite the lack of complete freedom, she was safe here. Monitored, her every move noted, but safe. No one who didn’t belong could enter the building. The other residents, while not particularly model citizens of Nevarro, were no threat. Nothing inside could hurt her. Still, she hated it.

Funny thing was, the outside bothered her just as much. Temptations like amber. People like the man in the shadows and Guy Christiansen.