Caught in Amber

by Pegau, Cathy

  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.

  A familiar tingle at the back of her throat teased her senses.

  Come on, Sasha, come play. It’s been so very long.

  Sasha closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Damn it.

  The nanos curbed the physical desire and helped with the psychological. Helped, but didn’t eliminate. She’d been able to resist the dealer near the halfway house, maybe because she couldn’t see or smell his offering. But being in the same room with it?

  Amber was an enticing lover, crooking its finger and promising the most exciting ride of your life. Some days she missed that tingle and the oblivion that came with it. Some days it was all she could do to remind herself what amber and Guy had done to her. On those days, she was grateful to be chipped.


  I can’t do this.

  Sasha gave herself a mental shake. Yes, you can. Sterling and his sister are counting on you.

  She drew in a deep, calming breath through her mouth and released it slowly as she located the source.

  At one of the seating areas, a glassy-eyed girl leaned over one of the two small stone mortar and pestle sets on a table covered in a fine layer of amber dust. Another young woman and a guy who looked barely legal sat beside her, talking and laughing. The first girl sucked on the end of her pinky and dipped the wet digit in the nearest mortar. She rubbed the orange-brown dust on her lips, licked off the excess from her finger then grabbed the other girl and crushed their mouths together, devouring each other and the drug. The young man stared at them for a moment, grinning, then leaned forward to take a hit.

  Amber may have damaged some of her memories, but Sasha recalled the complete lack of inhibition, of caring what anyone thought about what you were doing.

  She suppressed a shiver and tore her gaze away from them, finding Guy at the target billiards table, his favorite activity at The Morrissey. Sensors on the table clicked, whirred or played short, jaunty tunes, depending on the success of the player’s shot through the various obstacles.

  Bathed in the light of a fixture suspended above the table, he bent over to line up a shot with the laser-guided cue while two other men and a woman waited their turn, should Guy miss. In profile, his pose gave her a perfect view of his long, lean body. He wore tailored trousers and a dress shirt open at the neck, the cuffs rolled up to reveal the tanned skin of his wrists. A gold ring on his left middle finger held a ruby as big as her thumbnail. Guy’s dark blond hair, usually swept back off his forehead, fell across his eyes as he concentrated on the shot.

  Sasha wondered if he’d purposely waited for her to enter to begin his casual disregard of her. It was a petty gesture, even for Guy, but it told her in a nanosecond how she must deal with him. She schooled her features to a neutral expression. Cowering and sycophantic posturing would ring false coming from her. Guy had his “yes” men and “anything for you” women, but even during her amber-hazed neediest, Sasha hadn’t been afraid to challenge him. Sometimes.

  Guy drew the stick back, checked the line-up then struck the white ball with a solid thud. The ball careened off a U-shaped wicket, rather than rolling through it, and bounced against the rail. A descending, two-tone signal verified his miss.

  Guy lowered his head, a self-deprecating grin on his face as the other players gave him a good-natured ribbing. He stepped away from the table to allow the next player up, snatching the chalk cube as he gave room. He chalked his cue and turned his attention to Sasha. Cobalt eyes held hers, the straight eyebrows and mouth offering no hint of what he felt. She hoped her own face was as unreadable, but the bead of sweat trailing down her back didn’t help.

  He didn’t look like a monster. Not on the outside. On the outside, he looked like someone you’d find sunning himself on the beaches of Pacifica or farming at a Revivalist ag station. On the inside, he was a man who used men and women for monetary or personal gain. When he tired of them, or when they became difficult or were no longer useful, he had no problem discarding them. The question was, why hadn’t he discarded her?

  Guy shifted his gaze past her and jerked his head, telling Jake to leave. Sasha remained near the door as the bodyguard shut her in. Guy turned, handed his stick to another player and said something she couldn’t hear over the conversation and the music in the room. The other man, as dark as Guy was blond, glanced at Sasha then set the stick in the rack on the wall.

  Guy angled toward another part of the room, where two short couches sat by a stone fireplace, and motioned for her to join him.

  Sasha took a deep breath and followed. “You out there, Sterling?” she said without moving her lips.

  No response.

  “Sterling?”

  She stood in front of Guy and smiled.

  Shit.

  * * *

  “—there, Sterlin—” Sasha’s voice cut out again.

  Sterling smacked the control panel of the car. “Damn it.”

  What had that scanner done to the transmitter patch? He’d caught every third word, if that, since the bodyguard ran his detector. At least Sasha wasn’t hurt. Her yelp of pain had almost sent him running into The Morrissey.

  Had the scan affected her chip? Maybe. But not enough to trigger the nanos that would induce a heart attack. That was a relief. His own heart had nearly stopped when he thought of Sasha collapsing on the floor, terrified and in pain.

  He ran a hand over his face and hair and took a breath, releasing it in a gray cloud that slowly dissipated near his head. To reduce interfering sounds, he’d turned off the rattling heater. It was losing the fight to keep the cold at bay, anyway, yet he didn’t feel it. On the contrary, sweat beaded on his brow as he tweaked the frequency bands in an effort to clean up the signal.

  Static, then a voice came through the receiver. “Please. Sit down.”

  Christiansen.

  Sterling gripped the receiver hard enough for the edge to dig into his flesh.

  “Thank you,” Sasha said.

  He could imagine the hem of the dark blue dress sliding up her thigh as she took a seat near the drug dealer, and he ground his teeth together. She’d worn the dress to catch Christiansen’s attention and remind him what he was missing; it was a smart move, but damned if he wasn’t feeling like it was a bad idea now.

  “I appr— you seeing me like this.”

  He pressed the earpiece deeper into his ear canal, as if that would help. The thing was going to become a permanent part of his anatomy at this rate. Nice complement to his eye. Shoving the receiver into his ear wouldn’t make the transmitter work any better. Neither would staring at the door of The Morrissey help him see what was going on beyond it, but he did that too.

  “—dn’t have come here, Sasha,” Christiansen said.

  A burst of static obliterated everything else. Then the receiver fell dead silent.

  Panic gripped his chest. Damn. He had to get her out. Now.

  * * *

  Sasha felt the blood drain from her face. Shouldn’t have come? That sounded damn near threatening. She shifted on the edge of the loveseat, keeping her legs together from thighs to ankles. Her mother would have been proud.

  She licked her lips, wishing she’d brought her drink with her. “Then why did you invite me back here?”

  Guy stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. He rested his arms along the back of the couch. The golden lord of the local drug trade. “You misunderstand,” he said, a pleasant smile on his handsome face. “I meant, you should have come to the house.”

  The idea of returning to his house, to the place she’d lost herself, made her cold all over, then numb. “I—uh—I thought approaching you here would be more acceptable. Considering how we parted.”

  His smile broadened. “That was a long time ago. No need to hold a grudge, right?”

  Was he talking about her or himself? Either way, it was a crock of muck. She had every right to hate him forever, and in all the time she’d known him he’d never let the smallest of slights go without recourse.

  “But since you’re here,” he continued, “let’s talk. First, can I get you anything? A drink? Some other refreshment?”

  He gestured toward a table with bottles of alcohol and plates and bowls of food. Sasha focused on the one with the mortar and pestles. The trio on the couch were kissing, stroking each other and laughing, indifferent to everything around them.

  Yes.

  “No, thank you,” Sasha said, tearing her gaze from the glittering dust. “I’m here with a business proposition.”

  Guy’s eyebrows rose. “A business proposition? What’s the matter, not being paid enough at
the market?”

  Sasha curled her fingers, digging the tips into her leg; good thing she hadn’t opted for nail extensions. She shouldn’t be surprised he knew where she worked. But it did surprise her, and it bothered the hell out of her. “This is too good of an idea to pass up.”

  He grinned again. “Why don’t you let me decide how good the idea is?”

  She took a deep breath and resisted the urge to either smack the condescending look off his face or walk out. Neither would get the job done. “While I was in the NCRC, I met someone,” she said.

  Guy’s lips pressed together. If he thought she was involved with another person it could hurt Sterling’s plan, which meant her chip wouldn’t get deactivated.

  “Not like that. He was a guard assigned to my block. We got to talking, is all.”

  Guy’s expression relaxed a micron and he nodded for her to go on.

  “He knew my file, that you and I were—” Her throat tightened as she remembered all too well what they’d been. God, she wanted her drink. But Sterling had the right of it. Any dulling of her senses around Guy or amber was a bad idea. “That we’d been together. He thought I might be able to get you to listen to his idea for expanding distribution.”

  “Into correctional centers?” Guy shook his head. “Got plenty of men in those, sweetheart. I don’t need anyone else.”

  “Not the centers, Guy. The mines.”

  The drug dealer stared at her for a full five seconds then threw his head back and laughed. Everyone in the room turned toward them, except for the trio on the couch. Sasha felt her cheeks heat, not from the attention but from Guy’s derision.

  “Is he fucking skitzie?” he said when he recovered enough to speak. “Does he think that hasn’t been tried before? With security measures high as they are now, it’s even worse. Hell, it’s easier to get goods into a rehab center than a mine.” He shook his head, looking at her like she was some innocent waif taken in by a pimp at a shuttle station. “I don’t know what he promised you’d get out of this, Sasha, but I hope it wasn’t much.”