Jerred's Price (2 page)

“Giselle!” Manya called from his spot behind the bar. She turned to him, and her boss looked over at her, frowning. “Where have you been? You got customers waiting.”

She turned toward him, forced herself to smile.

“Sorry, I was in the fresher.”

“You move faster next time,” he said, his words harsh but his tone gentle. Then his face softened. “You all right?”

“Manya,” she said slowly. “Did you see that guy who was in here with Vetch? He had a blaster.”

The man’s broad forehead knotted into frown.

“You sure ’bout that?” he asked. “We have the sensors turned on. They were serviced less than a week ago. No way would he be able to get in here with a blaster.”

“Well, he had one,” she said. “I don’t know how he got it in, but he did.”

“You see him again, you let me know,” Manya said, frowning at her. “Now go take care of your tables. I’ll let Brant know, he’ll keep an eye out for him.”

She nodded, picking up a tray. The Debsians called out to her in a drunken chorus; she hurried toward them, pasting a bright smile on her face. Black Leather was gone—

everything would be fine now. Their bouncer, Brant, was a big man. She doubted that even the tall, scarred man would be able to get by him without a fight. Things were back to normal, and she should be thinking about her tips, not the man in the hallway.

Four endless hours later her shift ended. She picked up her small bag from Manya’s office and headed out the door, glad that it wasn’t her turn to close. She wasn’t up to it.

She nodded goodbye to Brant and headed out the door, keeping one eye open for Black Leather. She doubted he was still around, but you couldn’t be too cautious. Blessedly, the open, two-story arcade that served as a thoroughfare through the space station’s port was almost deserted.

Here and there groups of drunken spacers lurched by her, talking to themselves and calling out to every woman they saw. Ahead of her were three men dressed in engineer’s coveralls. They waved at her, shouting something. She couldn’t make out the words, but she knew the tone. They wanted to get laid. She laughed, shaking her head at them. Typical spacers. They were no threat to her, years of experience had taught her how to distinguish between men who were truly interested and those simply going through the motions.

She doubted the engineers would be capable of making it with a woman at this point anyway. They could hardly walk, yet two of them peeled off from the group and lurched toward her. She rolled her eyes and waved them off with a short, shooing gesture. A dark shadow detached itself from a narrow passageway between two stores.

She sensed him right before he took her arm.

9

Joanna Wylde

“She’s with me,” Black Leather said coldly to the drunks, who looked confused. He gave a low noise, almost a growl, in the back of his throat and they took off down the street.
So much for chivalry,
Giselle thought in disgust. It hadn’t occurred to even one of the engineers to ask her if she
wanted
to be with Black Leather.

“I told you, I’m not for sale,” she said tightly, turning away from him. He was wearing his jacket now, but it didn’t fully hide the bulge of his blaster. She tugged at his arm, trying to pull free. He ignored her.

“Where do you live?’ he asked shortly. “It’s not safe out here. I’ll see you home.”

Like hell you will,
she thought darkly. She was suddenly sick of his attitude, sick of men treating her like some kind of play object. She had worked a long shift, and she was damn tired. Was it too much to ask to simply go home and rest?

“I’m not headed home, I’m going to visit a friend.”

“Male or female?”

His tone froze her.

“Male,” she said slowly, wondering if that might get rid of him. “I’m seeing someone. We’ve been dating for several weeks now.”

“No,” he replied shortly.

“What?”

“No,” he said. “You won’t visit him. Tell me where you live and I’ll see you home.”

She searched her mind, wondering what to do now. She didn’t want him to know where she lived, and didn’t want to lead him to any of her friends. Hell, she’d only been on the station a couple of months. She had acquaintances, not friends. How was she going to get rid of him?

“I forgot something at the bar,” she said suddenly. “Can you take me back there?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” she said, putting a note of irritation into her voice. “I forgot my keycard, and I’m not going to get into my apartment without it. Let’s go back to the bar.”

She eyed him sideways under her lashes, wondering if he’d go for it. Without a word, he tugged at her arm and started walking back toward Manya’s. When they reached the door, she asked him if he wanted to wait outside for her, but he just shook his head. Brant stepped aside and let them pass through the door without a word. She tried to signal him with her eyes, but the big man seemed distracted. Damn. She waited for the alarms to go off as they passed through the security sensors guarding the door, but nothing happened. Would
anything
go her way tonight? Why the hell didn’t anyone but her seem to notice his blaster? Disgusted, she opened her mouth to catch Brant’s attention; this had gone too far already.

Black Leather squeezed her arm tightly, pulling her close to his body so she could feel the outline of his weapon.

The message was clear.

10

Jerred’s Price

If she tried signaling someone for help, they’d pay the price.

True fear filled her as she realized Manya’s might not be the sanctuary she’d hoped to find. Manya and his employees had been good to her. She shouldn’t have brought them trouble like this, she thought in disgust.

“I have to go behind the bar into the office to get my keycard,” she said slowly.

“Will you let me do that?”

“Take me with you.”

“It’s not allowed.”

“Make an exception,” he said smoothly. “Don’t make me do something you’ll regret.”

“Don’t you dare blame me for this,” she muttered in disgust.

“If you want your friends to live, be good,” he replied in a low voice.

She quieted at that, visions of Manya’s broad, friendly face covered in blood flitting through her head. Bastard.

“I’ll be quiet,” she muttered grimly. Manya saw them and raised one eyebrow in question. She wasn’t quite sure, but something about his gaze seemed different.

Unusual. Did he suspect something?

“Manya, I need my keycard for the apartment,” she said slowly, looking him directly in the eye. “I forgot it here earlier. Can you help me out?”

Manya smiled and nodded.

“Sure thing,” he said. “It’s in the office? You wait right here and I’ll get it for you.”

He turned and walked down the bar into the back room. She stood nervously, trying to figure out what to do next. There was no keycard in the office. She’d had a retinal scan lock put in just last week. Would Manya remember?

Manya came back out, a triumphant smile on his face. He held up a keycard.

“I’ve got it right here, Giselle,” he said. “Looks like it fell out of your bag when you pulled it out of my desk drawer.”

She reached out for the card, wondering what to do next. Just shy of the bar, Manya slipped in a puddle of beer, falling on his back with a startled cry. Black Leather held her back as she started forward to help the man. There was a loud, cracking noise, and then Black Leather sagged against her body, pushing her to the floor. She fell with a thump. Manya jumped over the bar to kneel beside her, lifting the heavy man’s body to one side. She looked up to see Brant holding a metal club smeared with blood.

“That one ain’t gonna be botherin’ you no more, Giselle,” Brant said with a smile. “I don’t like it when people sneak blasters past my security. Makes me look bad.”

11

Joanna Wylde

Chapter Two

Jerred could hear the people around him before he could see them. There was a burning, roiling feeling in his stomach. Was he sick? His head hurt… Shot?

“He’s waking up,” a deep voice said. He opened his eyes and saw the big bartender standing over him, both arms folded across his chest.

“I don’t know how you did it,” the man said, face filled with anger. “But you brought a blaster into my bar. Nobody messes with Manya. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you.”

“Back off, Manya,” another voice chimed in. Jerred rolled his head to one side, focusing on a man dressed in a station security uniform. By the Goddess, he thought in disgust. He’d thrown everything over for that damn witch. The last thing he needed was Imperials breathing down his neck. What had come over him?

If he had blown his cover over her, Nicolai would kill him.

Hell, if he’d blown his cover over her, he’d kill himself and save Nicolai the time.

“Sir, you’re been hit on the head,” the guard said, his voice carefully neutral. “It is illegal to carry weapons such as your blaster into an establishment that sells alcohol.

Further, it is illegal to disrupt or disable weapons detectors on station.”

No mention of the girl, he realized slowly. Why hadn’t she come forward and accused him of something? Did she want to avoid the uniforms as much as he did? Or was she just too smart to get caught in the middle of something like this? Probably the latter, he thought in disgust.

“What is the penalty?” he asked, his voice sounding shaky and foreign to him. In the background he could hear people whispering to each other. Hell, now he was providing entertainment for the entire bar. So much for keeping a low profile. Fuck.

“That’s for the magistrate to decide,” the guard said piously. “Of course, it may depend in part on whether you’re prepared to pay damages for the trouble you’ve caused.”

Money, he thought, feeling hopeful for the first time. If they were interested in money, he might be able to buy his way out of this one. Manya snorted in disgust.

“I think I could arrange that,” Jerred said slowly. The guard’s gaze sharpened.

“We’ll take care of it after we’ve taken you into custody,” he replied, the tone of his voice warming.

Jerred smiled, and then closed his eyes. They wanted money to make this go away.

That was something he could arrange.

12

Jerred’s Price

* * * * *

Giselle watched as they hauled Black Leather out on a floater. She stayed in the background as the station guards took names and contact information from the various bar patrons. There were a few who looked uncomfortable, but for the most part the situation was routine. A few of their more concerned patrons had slipped discretely into the storeroom for the duration. Free drinks would be served and damages would be paid. In a week, nobody would remember what had happened.

“How you doing?” Manya asked gruffly, coming to sit beside her. “I’m sorry I left you hanging out there for a moment, but I didn’t want him to know we were on to him.

You looked kinda scared.”

“He was waiting for me outside the bar,” Giselle said softly. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m sorry I brought trouble back to the bar, but it was the only thing I could think to do.”

“It’s all right,” he replied. “I didn’t like the way he was touching you, anyway. Like he owned you or something. I run a good, clean bar, and I don’t like anyone treating my girls like they’re hookers. We can afford to lose an occasional customer, but losing a good waitress? Now that’s a loss!”

Giselle smiled weakly, and leaned her head against Manya’s broad shoulder. For all his rough exterior, he was a good man.

“You stick around ’til closing,” Manya said slowly. “You can wait in my office, and I’ll make sure you get home all right.”

“No, that’s all right,” she said. “Just ’cause one guy scared me doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself, you know?”

“You sure?”

“Yep, I’m sure.”

“Well, I’m not your father,” he said after a moment. “Not my place to tell you what to do. Sit and relax, though, and I’ll get you a drink.”

She nodded gratefully, and Manya smiled.

It was an hour before she felt ready to leave again, despite her brave words. She wanted to take Manya up on his offer, but he couldn’t escort her home every night. The sooner she got over it, the better. Still, the once-friendly station corridors were filled with shadows, and every drunken spacer she passed seemed to leer menacingly. Things got better as she left the main gallery, ducking through back corridors toward the tiny block of apartments where she rented a room. She could afford better—she made good money at Manya’s. But she had better things to do with her credits.

She caught sight of her apartment entrance and relaxed for the first time. It always seemed to greet her from the distance, a small, blue door tucked in the corner of the hallway. She wasn’t scheduled to work the next cycle, and she was damned glad of it.

She could use the rest. She reached the door and leaned forward to press her eye to the retinal scanner when she heard them to her right.

13

Joanna Wylde

“You haven’t paid up, Sula,” a man’s voice said. Catching her breath, Giselle swiveled noiselessly. They were just a few feet away, down the other end of the hallway. Two guardsmen stood over a young woman, their stance anything but friendly.

Sula.

An unlicensed prostitute who worked the port. A sand junkie who was high ninety percent of the time, Sula slept in the corridor sometimes, and Giselle often left her food out of pity. The girl was harmless. Now she lay huddled against the wall, tears running down her always-pale face.

One of the guards kicked at her, and she whimpered, pleading wordlessly for mercy.

“Sula, you know what it means if you don’t pay up on time,” the man said. His friends laughed, as if they were sharing some sick joke. “This is the second time in row.

Didn’t we tell you what would happen if you did this again?”

“I’ll do better,” Sula whimpered. “I’m gonna do better. Just give me another chance.

Please.”

“I don’t think so,” the guard said, his tone deceptively light. “I think it’s already too late for you, Sula. You keep doing this and people will think it’s all right not to pay.

We’re gonna make an example outta you.”

Giselle caught her breath as the guard pulled a blaster out of his belt and pointed it toward the cowering girl. She knew, deep down inside, that there was nothing she could do to help Sula. Nothing. That didn’t make her feel like less of a monster for watching.

With surreal slowness, the guard raised the gun to Sula’s head and pulled the trigger. There was a bright flash, and the corridor was filled with the smell of burnt hair and flesh. The body slumped to one side, and to Giselle’s horror, she could feel her fingers loosen. Her bag hit the floor with a loud thumping noise, and the guards whirled to face her.

“I didn’t see anything,” she muttered, turning away from them and fumbling at her door. Had the computer already recognized her? Would it open? They were going to kill her. She knew it.

She could hear them stalking toward her, and then the door opened. She stumbled through, slapping it closed and screaming, “Lock!” to the computer.

A small light glowed red. How long would it hold?

The door shuddered as the guards shot it with a blaster. She scrambled to her feet, running across her small, one-room apartment toward the fresher. She dove in and scrabbled at the shower’s back panel. She’d wondered if she was paranoid when she’d decided to get the apartment. The landlord charged her extra for an apartment with an escape hatch. Who the hell would be after her? Why would she need a second exit?

14

Jerred’s Price

But she’d always had a hint of paranoia, and it had saved her ass more than once.

This time was no exception. The panel slid open, revealing a narrow service shaft. She crawled in, pulling the panel closed behind her. She figured she had about ten minutes before they figured out where she had gone. More than enough time to get away if she hustled. As she crawled down the narrow shaft she whispered a prayer of thanks to the Goddess for saving her yet again.

* * * * *

Jerred smiled broadly as the security captain offered him a drink. Amazing what kind of service a few credits could buy, he thought in amusement. The bastards must feel like they’d won a prize, a man who was willing to pay almost anything to make the little run-in with station security go away.

“It’s a real pleasure to deal with such civilized representatives of the local government,” he said, tipping back his drink. The captain gave an oily smile.

“We do our best,” he said. “Of course, we wouldn’t want to have to go through this with you again. I’m sure that Manya can be persuaded to drop any charges against you, and as the representative of the port, I can assure you that we hold no grudge, but we really will have to ask you to leave within the next cycle. A little time does wonders for hot tempers.”

“That won’t be a problem for me at all,” Jerred said, mulling over the idea. A full cycle was more than enough time to find the girl and get out. Mission or no, he wasn’t going to leave her behind. He’d already decided that.

She’d cost him far too many credits.

“How much longer will you need me to stay here?” he asked, rolling the sharp liquor in his mouth. It was decent stuff, far better than anything he’d had in a long time.

The captain and his men seemed to do pretty well for themselves. Idly he wondered if their Imperial keepers got a cut, or if this was strictly a local enterprise. If so, it might come in handy for Nicolai down the road. He made a mental note to tell the general about the captain in his next report.

“You can leave as soon as all the credits are transferred into the escrow account,”

the man replied. “This would all be much simpler if you would simply authorize it directly.”

Jerred didn’t reply, simply smiling at him. If he authorized it directly, the price to leave this room would almost certain to go up. Immediately.

Finally the captain’s computer bleeped, and he nodded.

“It looks like everything is in order,” he said with a smile. “You’ll need to authorize the release from escrow before you receive clearance to leave the station.”

“Naturally,” Jerred said. “May I leave now?”

15

Joanna Wylde

“Of course,” the captain replied. “In fact, I’ve even arranged for you to get your blaster back. Carrying such a weapon illegally is a serious infringement of port regulations, but I’m certain we can trust you not to do it again.”

Jerred nodded then stood slowly to leave. A younger man waited in the outer office with his blaster. Easy enough, Jerred thought. It was refreshing to deal with Imperials who were so direct. Too bad the captain and his men weren’t guarding the Imperial court on Tyre. That would be a real treat.

* * * * *

Giselle crawled through the service shaft as fast as she could move, wishing desperately that she’d taken the time to explore it more. Where the hell was she? And perhaps more importantly, where should she go?

Manya’s was out of the question. It wouldn’t take them long to discover where she worked, and she’d brought him enough trouble already. If the station guards turned against him, he could lose his livelihood. But all her money had been in her bag. What was she going to do?

A glow of light appeared ahead of her. Was it a way out?

She headed toward it, trying to keep as quiet as she could. It wasn’t easy. Her breath came in loud, harsh gasps that seemed to echo along the narrow metal shaft, and every movement seemed to rattle the metal beneath her.

The light was coming from a metal grate. She reached it and peered out into a long, empty corridor. She had no idea where she was, but they had to have discovered her escape route by now. It was only a matter of time before they cut her off. It would be safer to head back into the main areas of the station, to try and blend in somewhere.

With a sigh, she realized that she would have to leave her hard-earned savings behind.

Again.

Was she ever going to be able to keep the things she worked for? Was that really too much to ask?

She shook her head—no time for self-pity. Pushing at the grate, she managed to pop it free and crawled out into the corridor. She looked down at herself with disgust; she was filthy. She brushed the dust off, wiping her hands down her clothing to get at the worst of it. She twisted to reach her butt, and something poked her breast. Memory came to her. Jerred, sticking his fingers into her cleavage and tucking something in.

How had she forgotten about it? Why hadn’t she checked earlier? She must have been too rattled. Hopefully it was something useful. She reached down between her breasts and pulled it out. A credit slip, wrapped around a plastic room key. There were directions written on the slip, and her lip curled in disgust.

What a bastard.

16

Jerred’s Price

But, she realized, he was an incarcerated bastard. Unless he was able to come up with an enormous bribe, he would be in custody at least a cycle before he even saw a magistrate. There would be paperwork, fines, all of that. Until then, his room would be empty.

She smiled slowly, wondering if he had left anything valuable in it. Under normal circumstances she would never consider robbing someone. But this was hardly a normal situation. Her life was at stake, and he was at least partially responsible, she reminded herself. It was his fault she’d been so late getting home. His fault she’d witnessed the murder. The image of Sula’s lifeless body slumping in the corridor flashed through her mind, and she cut it off ruthlessly. Sula was dead. Thinking about her wouldn’t change anything.

She moved cautiously through the corridor until it branched with another. She followed the larger branch until she was in territory that, while still unfamiliar to her, was at least recognizable. Here were apartment doors and the occasional small business with the shutters down. The only places open on the station at this time of cycle would be the bars, the places that catered to drunken spacers on leave. Blessedly, everyone on this corridor seemed to be asleep.