Caught in Amber (5 page)

And Nathan Sterling.

He’d done and said things to make her think he cared, but she knew they were just to get her to help him. Just as Guy had plied her with gifts to keep her at his side. Offer people what they wanted to hear, what they wanted most, and they’d do almost anything for it. That’s how the world worked. It had taken her a long time and some bouts of shaking and puking to learn there was a catch to every promise. But she’d learned.

Sterling’s touch had meant nothing. The softening of his usually piercing blue eyes was a reaction to her accession, not true feelings. Not for her. He’d been grateful that she’d agreed to help, caught up in the anticipation that he could save his sister. That was all. As much as she might want it to, she couldn’t
let
it mean anything.

Sasha scrubbed her cold hands over her face, erasing the lingering sensation of his touch. She couldn’t indulge in fantasies anymore; that’s what had landed her in rehab in the first place.

She rubbed the side of her neck. Oh, to not have the government know every corner she turned. To not have to piss into a specimen tube in a parole kiosk that smelled of bad aim and vomit and despair. If everything went as planned, she’d be able to relocate. Start over.

Corrections could always order the chip back online if they discovered it had been deactivated for no good reason or if she screwed up. But she’d proven these last eight months that she could behave and had no intention of backsliding.

She took a deep breath. Even if it was just to get her help, Sterling
had
promised to keep her safe. She believed he would. She had to believe it, because if Guy learned she was only there to take Kylie away from him, she was dead.

Sasha ran up the steps, not stopping until she reached her flat.

Chapter Four

Sasha sat in Sterling’s battered ground car as they headed to Guy Christiansen’s favorite club and wondered if she’d lost her mind when she’d agreed to help him. The anxiety of seeing Guy again manifested itself in tossing and turning the night before and a barrage of nausea throughout the day.

Maybe if I throw up, he’ll call it off.
She noted the way Sterling’s brow furrowed as he frowned at traffic, the thin scar across his forehead blending in with lines of concentration. Or irritation.
No, probably not.

His determination and dedication were admirable, even if they made her want to puke at the moment.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the earthy, male scent infusing the interior of the car. She tugged the hem of her midnight-blue dress toward her knees, but the stretchy material snapped back up her leg to keep its original mid-thigh length. When was the last time someone had seen her from the thighs down? Or the thighs up, for that matter?

Her face heated. She glanced at Sterling, but his attention was on the traffic as he drove through the snowy city. She flipped her coat over her bare legs, pressing her hands into her lap.

Most of her clothes from her time with Guy were gone, but she had a few items in her closet that made her feel like a normal person. A quick shopping trip this afternoon courtesy of Sterling had increased her wardrobe, particularly in the young professional-look department. Though this dress was meant for a completely different effect.

They turned left onto a main artery, bringing them within a block of The Morrissey. Glittering storefronts and advert boards, street lamps and headlights gave the area a festive sparkle, but she wasn’t in a party mood. Not by a long shot.

“You remember the safe word?” His deep, steady voice calmed her somewhat.

“Grapefruit. Very subtle,” she said as he slowed the car and pulled over. She fingered the tiny transmitter/receiver patch adhered behind her right ear; the gold hoop dangling from her lobe brushed her hand. “Are you sure this thing will work? Guy might have jammers.”

“Stop playing with it,” Sterling said. “If you don’t hear me, you’ll have about ten minutes to get to him and get out before I come in.”

Sasha shook her head. “He’ll have someone at the door screening patrons. What if they don’t let you in?”

He grinned, but his eyes remained solemn. “You’ll hear a big ruckus and get the hint.”

She wiped sweaty palms across her thighs and stared at the door of The Morrissey, building the nerve to get out of the car. A young couple emerged from the club and walked toward them. Well-dressed and in a hurry, the girl clutched the guy’s arm. She paid little attention to her footing as she flicked glances toward his hand in his coat pocket. The guy moved like he had a rod up his ass, his eyes darting around, full of guilt, then to the front every few steps.

New “friends” of the drug dealer, no doubt, and Guy had given them a party favor. New, because only a beginner would act that way when holding a dose of amber in public.

Sasha sighed as the couple passed the car. How many of those get-togethers had she wasted there herself, half dazed and hanging on Guy like he was a lifeline? Too many to remember. Too many she
couldn’t
remember. And some she didn’t want to.

“You okay?”

Sterling’s voice jerked her back to the here and now. Sasha turned to him, the forced smile on her face awkward. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His blue eyes held hers, as if he saw past the false smile. “I’m right here if you need me,” he said, his voice quiet but reassuring.

The subdued light of the car interior softened the intensity in his eyes and the seriousness of his features, like when he smiled. Her throat seemed to thicken and all she could do was nod.

Something flickered across his face. Concern? Doubt? Something else? It was gone too quickly for Sasha to tell. He glanced at the palm-sized receiver on the seat between them, concealing whatever it might have been, and tapped a button. “Green lights across the board.” His tone was cool and professional now. “Ready when you are.”

That would be never.

Sighing with resignation, she got out of the car. On the ice-rimmed walk, Sasha checked her footing in the six-centi heels as she closed the car door. A frigid gust of wind swirled around her ankles and up her legs, making her shiver. Funny that she’d miss the confines of a Revivalist’s longer skirt and tights.

Smoothing her coat, she took the first wobbly steps toward The Morrissey. By the time she reached the door she managed to achieve a decent facsimile of the hip-swaying strut perfected while with Guy. A short dress and strappy heels made her look the part again, but now she needed to have the attitude. If Guy smelled fear she’d be done.

“Here goes,” she muttered as she grabbed the door handle.

“Loud and clear.” Sterling’s voice hummed in her skull.

She opened the door and stepped into the warm interior of The Morrissey. As the door eased closed behind her, Sasha let her eyes adjust to the light bathing the entry before moving farther inside. It forced anyone coming in to pause as they regained their bearings and also let the hired muscle, usually sitting at the bar to the left, see if they were a threat.

Only the bartender and a tall, broad man occupied the dark-paneled front room. Music thumped from behind solid double doors to the right.

The man heaved himself off a stool and came forward, blocking her from the arched hall that led to the private area toward the back of the club. “Whatcha lookin’ for, sweetheart?”

Amber often damaged a user’s memory, but Sasha recognized the high tenor that didn’t match the man’s bulk and smiled. “Hi, Jake.”

“Sasha?” He cocked his head as he entered the circle of light near the door. Like all of Christiansen’s male employees, he wore an expensive dark suit and shiny black shoes.

She nodded. “In the flesh.”

Jake set his large hands on his hips. He shook his head and gave a low whistle as he looked her over. Jake had never made any inappropriate remarks or gestures when she was with Guy—he wasn’t stupid—but Sasha tensed, feeling almost naked under the scrutiny. “You’re lookin’ good. It’s been, what, four years?”

“Almost five,” she said, mentally adding the ten months and eight days to the tally.

“Right. Didn’t see you much before the trial.” The big man brought his gaze up to her face, his cheeks reddening. “How was it inside?”

Sasha felt heat blossom on her own cheeks. “Shitty.” She grinned at him. “Just like you’d figure.”

Jake let out a bark of a laugh then grew sober in the silence between them. “So, ah, what brings you here?”

She tilted her head to glance beyond him, down the hall that led to Guy. “Is he busy?”

“He’s not expecting you, is he?” Jake crossed his arms over his wide chest, not quite frowning but all business now. “You know how Guy can be.”

Paranoid and manipulative
. But instead of saying that, she smiled up at the bodyguard. “Yeah, I know, but I have something to talk to him about. Can you let me by, or at least go ask if he’ll see me?”

It was a long shot that she’d get past the door. She’d told Sterling as much, but she had to try. Anything to bring her closer to losing the chip.

Jake’s gruff expression softened a little. “I dunno, Sasha. Whenever your name comes up, he gets all skitzie and moody.”

Her name came up in Guy’s presence and he didn’t act like she never existed, as he had with other people he’d deemed unworthy? A few years ago she would have been happy to cause a reaction in him. Since then, she just wanted to forget she’d ever met him; she’d hoped he had done the same. Maybe Sterling was right about Guy’s feelings. Something tripped in her chest and her breath caught painfully, but she didn’t let her apprehension show. She could imagine the CMA agent’s smug “I told you so” and was surprised she didn’t hear him say it over their link.

Sasha laid a hand on one of Jake’s crossed arms. The luxurious softness of his carbon-fiber, pulser-resistant jacket over hard muscle reminded her Guy spared no expense when it came to assuring his entourage looked good as well as protected him. “Please, Jake, could you go ask him? If he says no, I’ll leave without a word.”

Sterling might have a few choice words if that happened, but she couldn’t exactly force her way past Jake.

Jake’s dark brows knitted as he considered her request. Had Guy given him any specific orders regarding her? Had he suspected she’d return? He was arrogant enough to believe she’d come crawling back to him, saying as much when she’d left, giving her a knowing look across the courtroom the day of her sentencing. As much as it galled her, letting Guy believe he was right would be an advantage. Wouldn’t it?

“Okay.” Jake patted her hand then lifted it from his arm. Without releasing her, he guided her over to the bar. “You sit tight, and I’ll go talk to him. Scotty,” he said to the bartender, “give the lady whatever she wants.”

She sat on a stool, partially turned to see Jake amble down the hall to Guy’s private room.

“What’ll you have?”

Sasha took a deep breath, blew it out slowly and smiled at the bartender. “Huskberry Cosmo, please.”

“Easy on the alcohol,” Sterling said in her skull. “You need to keep a clear head.”

“Make it a double,” she told Scotty.

He nodded and went to work on her drink.

Sterling muttered something she couldn’t quite catch, but he didn’t sound very happy. Her grin broadened, the only reaction she could have to giving him a hard time without sounding like she was talking to herself.

“Nice job getting to the guard,” he said.

“Thanks,” she replied as the bartender placed her drink in front of her.

She trailed a finger through the condensation on the side of the tall, cool glass. Sterling was right about needing a clear head, but she wasn’t about to let him know she agreed. Still, a little liquid courage couldn’t hurt. She took a mouthful and swallowed. A generous amount of vodka competed with the tang of the huskberry juice, and Sasha drew in a slow breath to counter the burn. No watered-down drinks at The Morrissey. At least, not for anyone associated with Guy.

“You all right?” Sterling asked.

“Mm-hmm.” She covered her response with another, smaller sip. Her throat and stomach warmed. Sasha slid her coat off and laid it on the next stool.

The bartender glanced over at her, checking her out. Her face heated. The snug, long-sleeved, dark blue dress covered her from neck to thigh, leaving just enough to the imagination. It was a style and color Guy had liked. For the past eight months, she’d avoided wearing anything but the most modest, subdued clothing, even on her days off from the market. The less she drew attention to herself, the better.

By the time her drink was half gone, Jake returned. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. Sasha offered a hopeful smile.

“Stand up,” he said. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something that looked like a comm but had no screen and just a single button. “Hold out your arms.”

She slid off the stool and looked up at him. Old buddy Jake was gone, and in his place was one of Guy’s employees.

“I’m not packing, Jake.” Where would she hide a weapon in this dress anyway? “Guy knows I’m not that dumb.”

The bodyguard shrugged. “Still gotta check you. It’s SOP.”

Sasha raised her arms and affected an air of understanding annoyance as he started at her feet and waved the device over her. By the time he checked both arms the annoyance was real. “Satisfied?”

Jake brought the detector closer to her head. Pain shot from both sides of her neck, up through her skull as a high-pitched squeal sounded.

“Shit!” She jerked away from him and the device. “Turn that thing off!”

Frowning, he stabbed the button. “What the hell, Sasha? What are you wearing?”

She pulled the collar of her dress away from her neck. “Nothing, see? Your little toy must be broken.”

Jake pocketed the device and slid a hand behind his back, likely to a waistband holster. Sasha swallowed hard as she smoothed the material at her throat.

“It’s not broken,” he said defensively. “It detects power sources and electronics.”

Damn the void. The transmitter. How sensitive was the detector? Could it pinpoint exactly where the electronic pulses originated, or just give him a general idea?

Maybe it wasn’t the transmitter he’d detected. She tapped the left side of her neck. “I’m chipped, Jake.”

Relief eased the frown lines across his forehead, and he brought his empty hand out from behind his back. “Oh, geez, yeah. I forgot that. Sorry. Are you all right? Feedback from the detector can blow circuits.”

Sasha snorted an indelicate laugh. “It’ll take more than that to disable a Corrections chip, believe me. I’ll be fine.”

“All right. Guy said if you were clean, you were to be brought to him. Follow me.”

Jake turned and headed back down the hall with Sasha on his heels. She smiled at the irony of having the chip she detested being her saving grace.

As she drew closer and closer to Guy, her smile faltered. The next few minutes were critical. If she blew it, if Guy decided she
wasn’t
worth his attention, Sterling’s plan would end before it began. Kylie would remain with the drug dealer until Sterling could come up with something else, and she would still be chipped, under the thumb of the Corrections Department.

The paneled hall seemed to close in on her, cutting off any retreat to the front of the club. She concentrated on breathing and Jake’s broad back.

The deep
thud-thud
of music vibrated in her chest, growing stronger as she and Jake reached the door leading to Guy. The bodyguard turned to her and nodded once before opening the door.

The music wasn’t as loud as she expected; it was just the bass that rattled through the walls. Inside, six or seven men and women occupied several low-slung couches in a room that had wood accents to mimic a sort of rustic charm. None of the women matched the pic of Kylie that Sterling had shown her. No one afforded her more than a glance before returning to their conversations. Tables were strewn with empty glasses and plates of half-eaten food. Cologne and perfume scents hung in the air. Underneath it, the distinct citrus-spice bite of amber.