Runner: The Fringe, Book 3 (13 page)

“You drink it like this.” He lifted her glass to his lips and took a sip. He licked the foam mustache atop his lip, then handed her the glass.

“It’s on my list, to try a beer.” She took it from his hand, feeling a spark when their fingers touched. She sniffed as she sipped. “It’s very rich.” She took another sip. “And tart.” Another sip. “Almost citrus.” Like him, she licked the foam on her lip away and wondered if he had the same reaction she did. Everything felt more intense now that the bars between them had been removed.

“Hallertauer hops.”

At her confused frown he explained that hops gave beer bitterness and aroma. Then he asked, “On your list?”

“Of things to do before I die.” She took another sip of the beer and made a mental checkmark against her list.

He considered her with an intense, probing gaze. What was he looking for? And why had he taken her out of her cell for a romantic candlelit dinner? Perhaps it was her last meal before he handed her over. If that was what this was, she was determined to spend the night in his bed. As much as she wanted to fling a hundred questions at him, she hesitated to get answers that she might not want to hear.

“What else is on this list of yours?” He moved back into the kitchen and fiddled with dinner.

“To read a pleasure book. I enjoyed the one you gave me very much.” He’d given her a western that involved as much romance as it did adventure. As a doctor, she often had to read and assimilate vast amounts of information quickly. The IWOG didn’t let medical information linger. It might hurt the corporate structure that formed the base of the government. She became ever more adept at consuming vast amounts of information, internalizing it, then using it to the best of her ability in conjunction with her projecting skill. She’d read the pleasure book just as fast. “I understand why the IWOG banned them.”

“Yeah?”

“They make one think in different ways. Ways that run counter to what the IWOG wants from their consumers. Also, reading is a singular activity. The IWOG doesn’t want consumers spending time alone not consuming and getting the wrong idea about consuming.”

Foster nodded. “Anything else on this list?”

“You.” She looked right into his eyes.

“Me?” He flashed her that boyish grin.

“Yes.”

He held her gaze for the longest time. “I’m setting you free.”

“Pardon me?” She fumbled her glass to the table, splashing a bit of beer on the tablecloth.

He plucked up a damp cloth, then blotted the spill. “I canceled the contract with Roberts.” Once he’d mopped it up, he tossed the rag to the sink and turned to her, his azure eyes open and engaging.

“But your reputation…” She knew how important that was to him.

“Is intact. Roberts lied about you being a reader.” Foster shook his head. “That’s a very big no-no and instantly invalidates the contract.”

“But the money—”

“Isn’t worth it.”

Stunned, she could only gape at him. Finding her voice, she finally asked, “Why?”

“Because you didn’t do what Roberts accuses you of. I know you’re innocent. I might be a ruthless bastard, but even I have my limits.” He sat across from her at the little table.

Fear swept away her sudden joy. Her emotions must have shown in her face.

“I thought that news would make you happy.” He sounded shocked and upset that he’d done her a great wrong without meaning to.

“It does. But it doesn’t.” She bit her lip. “It isn’t going to stop. Roberts will just send someone else after me. Everyone will be looking for me. My face is everywhere.” She looked at the table again with a new eye. “Oh, Mr. Nash, was all of this to soften the blow before you toss me off your ship?”

Dark terror loomed in her otherworldly eyes, Foster leaned close and took her hand. “I’m not tossing you anywhere.” She looked up at him with such helpless horror, he blurted, “You could stay with me.” His offer came straight from his heart. Shocked by his admission, he pulled his hand back. “I mean, here, on my ship. I guess I could use a doctor. I’m not accident-prone or anything, but I think a doctor would be a good thing to have around. I wouldn’t keep you like a prisoner, but you could stay, if you wanted to. You’d be safe here.”

She considered with a pained look around at the cramped galley, and he wished he’d cleaned up a little better. He didn’t want her to think he was a slob. He was, but he wanted to put his best foot forward before revealing his less stellar qualities.

“I wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to. I mean, I wouldn’t force you to—ah, well, you know. I’m kinda just offering you a job, I guess.” Shoot himself where he stood, he sounded like a babbling IWOG boy, terrified of getting caught with even a hint of impropriety.

Jynx laughed with a strange mixture of sadness and relief. “I’m not worried about
that
.” She smiled wanly. “Our potential sexual relationship is the least of my concerns. Roberts would come after you. I would be putting you in danger, and I can’t do that.”

It blew him away. With all she had to worry about, she seemed the most concerned with his safety rather than her own. Or was she playing him? For the life of him, he couldn’t see how.

“I can take care of myself. If you’re with me, I can take care of you too.” He meant what he said, but if she asked him an hour from now, he might not be so confident. That expression of determination on Roberts’s face over the audvid flashed in his mind. One way or another, Roberts wasn’t going to rest until Jynx was brought low. As it was, Foster uttered the words with full conviction and arrogant certainty. Best way to lie was to believe it yourself first.

“How very chivalrous.” Jynx shied back a bit. “But I don’t understand. What do you get out of this? Out of helping me?”

“Seems you are getting acclimated to the Fringe.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re starting to look for the edge, the advantage.”

Her gaze dropped to the table, and a flush of shame washed her cheeks red. “I don’t mean to be suspicious.”

“I like it.” His statement drew her gaze to his. “You’re behaving normally for a change.” He smiled. “What I get out of helping you is, well, I don’t know exactly. I guess it’s kinda like your Hippocratic oath. I really don’t want to do any harm in the Void. Especially not to an innocent.” But in the same breath, he thought of how much he wanted to corrupt the dignified IWOG lady right out of her.

“Better watch out, Mr. Nash. Your marshmallow heart is showing.” She flashed a full smile, and that was when he noticed the hint of a dimple on her right cheek, almost directly below that tiny white scar over her eye.

“Well, at least it’s not my boxers this time.”

Jynx laughed. “Mr. Nash, I honestly—”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“I’ll certainly try.”

“Drop the mister and just call me Nash.”

“You don’t want me to call you Foster?”

“Naw. I hate that name.” He’d been named after a centuries-dead ancestor in accordance with a naming fad that was still going strong on IWOG, WAG and Fringe worlds. Older names had made a strong comeback in the last fifty years.

“If I call you Nash, will you stop calling me Sweets?”

He liked calling her Sweets. “I’ll try.”

She considered the table for a moment. “Whether you keep me or let me go, Roberts will come after you.”

He found her concern unbelievably touching. “Wouldn’t be the first time a disgruntled client tried to. Thing is, to get to me, Roberts would have to hire one of the other triple-platinum Runners.” That statement he could offer with full confidence. Only another Runner had any hope of getting near his ship. Even then, they would be so evenly matched, the battle would be a draw.

“Wouldn’t they do it?” She lifted her worried gaze.

“Nope. Not a one of them. I wouldn’t go after them either. It’s a mutual deal. Even if Roberts tried a smear campaign on me, like what you got, it wouldn’t work. I’ve got a contract. All I have to do is flash copies to the media, and it’d be over before it started.” Moreover, he knew Roberts wouldn’t want anyone to know about Jynx’s reader ability.

“Are you certain you’ll be okay if you do this? If you let me go?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. That’s why if you stay here, you’ll be fine too. If Roberts can’t get me, Roberts can’t get you either.” He felt like he was rapidly digging himself deeper into a hole he might not be able to climb out of.

“People won’t stop looking for me until I’m caught or proven dead. I’m going to be on the run for the rest of my life.”

He could practically see the full horror dawn on her. She pressed her hands flat to the table to hide tremors.

“I’ll never be safe anywhere. I’ll be hunted until I’m dead.”

He’d been over this in his own mind for hours. He offered her a choice. Not much of a choice, but considering her limited options, he thought it fair to middling.

“I know, Jynx. I’ve thought about it. The only place you’re going to be safe is here. I know it’s not much. I’m basically offering you a prison cell, but it’s really the only thing I can offer you right now.” He hoped with a bit more time he could find her a better place.

She peered up at him, toying with her silverware. “Thank you. You are extremely generous.” Her gaze fell to her plate.

“I don’t expect you to make up your mind right away. You’ll have all the time you want to think about it.” Why did he feel like he’d failed her so miserably?

“Thank you.” She sounded dazed, as if she’d just been sucker punched. The truth of her position was dawning on her in wave after horrible wave. She could never show her face anywhere again. She could live on his ship or die. Not much of a choice.

“I guess you’re not really hungry anymore.”

Jynx glanced at the stove where dinner waited. “Not so much.” Her head tilted back, and she met his gaze with startled eyes. “I apologize for my appalling lack of manners. I know you went to a great deal of trouble, and I appreciate your efforts, but in light of what—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He scooped up the faux-china plates. “Remember, this isn’t a garden party. Your manners are fine.” He put the clean plates in the sink and put the dinner away in case she changed her mind later. “Relax. I’m not going to yell anymore.”

“I don’t think I can relax. My entire life has just flip-flopped again, Mr. Nash. If you want to yell, please do. I feel like doing it myself, even though it won’t help.”

She continued to call him Mr. Nash, but he let her formality slide. He didn’t expect her to change overnight.

“Wanna play?” he asked with a seductive, flirty edge and a waggle of his eyebrows.

“What?” Her eyes startled wide as she looked up at him.

“I must have surprised you. You didn’t say pardon.” He washed his hands and did a quick shutdown on the kitchen. “I asked you if you wanted to play.”

“Play what?” Terror left her eyes, and a childlike sense of fun filled them. “Fort?”

Grinning, thinking of what fun it would be to play with her, a mattress and a blanket, he shook his head. “Ever played Labyrinth?”

“What is that?”

“A virtual.”

“You mean one of those murder simulators?” She recoiled automatically with a look of disgust. “I’m not interested in even
pretending
to kill other people.”

“I can’t believe the IWOG still calls them that. Murder simulators?”

“I guess.” She shrugged. “If that’s what you mean.”

“Yeah. One of those.” Biting his lip as he grinned at her, he said, “A forbidden game. Wanna see one?” He wiggled his eyebrows even more suggestively than he had before.

“Yes.” Her automatic admission seemed to startle her.

He grinned, pleased he’d corrupted another piece of the IWOG lady right out of her. First a pleasure book, now a virtual. What next?

“Come on.” He took her to the bridge of the
Damn You
.

Jynx considered the room from the doorway. He followed her gaze. Wads of paper reports were intertwined in stacks of books. Pens, pencils and pads of paper with sketches were semi-organized on the port side. Starboard side had her purse, shoes and more books in a jumbled pile. Various pieces of equipment were scattered around in diverse states of repair.

He looked at the lone chair. “Hmm.”

“What? Is something missing? In all of this mess, how can you tell?” She covered her giggle by lifting her hand.

“There’s only one chair.” He looked at what he’d always mockingly called his throne, the seat of his empire. Custom-made of the best black Byzantine leather, it was wider and taller than most pilot chairs and deliciously comfortable.

“No copilot seat?” She looked around the room. “Perhaps the clutter took on a life of its own and ate it.”

“No copilot.” He quickly cleaned up the mess by cramming everything into the storage lockers, where he should have kept it in the first place, then dropped into the chair he knew better than the back of his own hand. “Do you mind sitting on my lap?”

An adventurous smile crossed her face as she considered his lap. “I don’t mind if you don’t.” Warm and soft and rather eager, she settled herself against his thighs. “What do all of these things do?”

Her curious gaze darted around the array of electronics. In addition to the main deck, two walls of equipment went up then over their heads in an arc. Sensors banked every inch of space around the main window, like a band around the inside nose of his ship. He had more gleeps on his ship than most double-team pilots could handle, let alone a solitary man.

He considered his bridge through her inexperienced eyes and realized it must look extremely complicated. Then again, his console would freak out an experienced pilot. But to him, his ship was a tool he used every day. As familiar and comfortable to him as his toothbrush.

He pointed to the main deck console. “There’s basic stuff like fuel, speed, direction.” He pointed to the sides of the arc. “There’s other more complicated stuff, like electrical storage, weapons, grav, things like that.”

“All the blinking lights make it look like a holiday tree.” She looked around, rather mesmerized. “I’m sure it’s complicated, but it’s also pretty. It reminds me of some of the medical equipment I’ve used.” She peered at some of the readouts and frowned. “On closer inspection, these machines are nothing like the medical equipment I’ve used. Those I understood.”