by Pegau, Cathy
* * *
Marco led the way to the second floor. Sasha followed, and Sterling trailed behind her. As much as she appreciated Sterling’s violent tendencies toward Marco—the bastard seemed to have that effect on a lot of people—they both knew it would do them no good.
Marco was a bully and an obnoxious ass, everything Sterling was not. Marco was downright offensive to those he deemed inferior—which was just about everybody—and crude. Sterling treated everyone with courtesy until they proved they didn’t deserve it. Water and oil didn’t describe their two personalities. More like water and pure sodium.
Would Guy be able to rein in Marco? She hoped so. All this testosterone flying about was making her skitzie.
At the top of the stairs, a short hall led to the building’s security control room. Sasha had never been in there. The door was always closed, and she’d never seen anyone go in or come out. Across the hall, Guy’s office door was ajar.
Marco gave a cursory knock and went in, gesturing for her and Sterling to follow.
Guy stood beside a metal desk near the door. His immaculate white shirt wasn’t tucked in and his charcoal trousers had a crisp crease down each leg. “Glad you’re here. Have a seat.”
Sasha glanced around the office as she made her way to a metal-framed chair. The battered furnishings and scarred floor appeared to have been there since Nevarro was no more than a remote outpost in a newly accessible star system two centuries before, but the sleek computer on the desk was state-of-the-art.
“Not much has changed since you were last here, Sasha.” Guy smiled at her as she and Sterling sat down.
More than you might think. She smiled back but said nothing.
Guy turned his attention to Sterling. “Get a chance to look around, Nate?”
“Not at the repackaging area,” Sterling said. He shot a glance at Marco, who leaned against the wall behind Guy’s chair. “But I got the gist of your operation.”
“Good.” Guy took his seat. He stared at Sterling with his cool, unwavering gaze. “I’ve checked you out.”
Sterling nodded. “I figured you would. Find anything?”
“Plenty.”
Sasha’s heart stumbled in her chest. Had Guy’s digging turned up something other than what Sterling wanted him to know?
Beside her, Sterling shifted uncomfortably and frowned. “Like what?”
Guy didn’t move for a few seconds then he shrugged. “Nothing terrible. Your file at the NCRC. An incident here and there. Got into a bit of trouble a few years back, huh? Official reprimand.”
Sterling cleared his throat. “One of the other guards welshed on a bet. Words and punches flew. No permanent damage. I took a week unpaid and got a crap shift for three months.”
Sasha suppressed an admiring grin. Sterling put enough of a bad-boy reputation into his fake file to show Guy he was the real deal, yet enough of a clean record to promise there would be no one higher up in the system keeping an eye on him.
“As I said, nothing terrible.” Guy smiled at him.
“Good. What’s your plan?”
“Start out small.” The old chair creaked under his weight. “Just a kilo or two. Bricks or decks, depending on how we ship it out.”
“And how do you want to do that?”
Sterling was being more of a “company man” than he’d implied he’d allow. The smirk on Marco’s face told Sasha he believed he was the reason behind Sterling’s transformation.
“I think the best route would be through food supplements or medical supplies.” Guy leaned forward and started tapping the projected board on the desk. Though Sasha couldn’t see the holo screen from her side, Guy stared intently at whatever he was reading. “Large enough containers to send up to a hundred kilos without being suspicious, but small enough to store on your end. Does that work for you?”
Sterling drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair. “Food supplements. Not medical. We wouldn’t need frequent large shipments since the clinic is established.”
“Don’t you treat your inmates?” Marco asked. “Though knowing addicts, they’d probably bleed to death rather than give up a score.”
Sasha’s face heated, but she refused to let Marco—or Guy or Sterling—see any other reaction.
Sterling narrowed his eyes at the other man. “We treat them just fine. Dead addicts wouldn’t make me much money, now, would they?” He glanced at Sasha but spoke to Guy. “We take care of our assets, Mr. Christiansen.”
Sasha moistened her lips. His look made it clear he included her, but what did he mean?
“Exactly,” Guy said, his focus still on the screen. He’d missed what had passed between the three of them, but Marco stared at her and Sterling. “Keep the customers happy and wanting more. And call me Guy.” He smiled at Sterling. “I insist.”
Sterling nodded.
Marco grumbled something, shifted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. Sterling and Guy ignored him.
“What I need now is authorization codes for shipping manifests,” Guy said. “Got those on you?”
Sterling reached into an inside jacket pocket and withdrew his comm. He set the device down beside Guy’s. “The codes are in there, but I don’t start for another week.”
“That works out fine,” Guy said. “Two bricks will be included in a shipment of Eden Bliss food supplements. The CMA has a contract with them as a supplier for the mines, and we have a contract as a third-party shipper. The manifest will list Omega-3 Oil, with product number 97425-9-84.” Sterling’s handheld beeped as it transferred and accepted data. “These initial kilos are on account. They’re worth ten thousand credits, and I expect payment in three months.”
“Not a problem,” said Sterling.
“I have to leave for Weaver next week, so Marco will be overseeing the first month of the operation while I’m gone.” Guy’s gaze stayed on Sterling, gauging his reaction, Sasha suspected, to being shuffled over to the number-two man.
Marco grinned down at her and Sterling. It made Sasha want to run from the room and find a hot shower.
Sterling frowned. “I thought you’d want to be here for the first run, Guy.”
“I trust Marco will keep things running smoothly until I get back.”
Sasha’s jaw tensed at his lie. Just last night, Guy had more than implied that he didn’t trust Marco. Left to his own devices, Marco would have a great opportunity to throw his weight around, and possibly more. Was this Guy’s way of trying to catch his second in command at some kind of coup attempt? Worse, with Guy off planet, access to his house and to Kylie would be diminished. Marco wouldn’t want Sterling around to challenge him, but he might let Sasha into the mansion, for a price.
It was not a price she was willing to pay. Damn the void; she needed to end this, now.
“All the way to Weaver, Guy?” she said, drawing the attention of all three. “I hadn’t realized how vast and intricate your organization was. Though I’m not surprised.” She smiled, mustering a veil of admiration she didn’t feel in the least.
Guy smiled back. He’d always been a sucker for flattery.
She’d use that—and everything she knew—to her advantage. “I’d like to understand the operation better, if you’re willing to show me.”
“Sure, sweetness,” Guy said. The endearment made her want to gag, but she kept the smile on her face. She was getting better at hiding herself from others, last night with Sterling being the painful exception. “We can start whenever you’d like.”
“How about tonight?”
Beside her, Sterling’s fingers flexed against the arm of the chair. She sensed the tension that rolled off of him and hoped to God the other two men didn’t see it. “I have another appointment in an hour, Sasha,” he said. “We’ll need to get going soon.”
She resisted the urge to turn to him, to react to his damned protectiveness. “You go on.” She kept her gaze on Guy but felt Sterling’s apprehension increase. “I’m sure Guy will take care of me.”
She’d explain her decision to him as soon as she could, but for now she had to let Guy believe she’d considered his offer of professional involvement and wanted to take him up on it. If it granted deeper access to Guy’s world and allowed her to contact Kylie, both she and Sterling would get what they wanted, without having to wait another month. It was now or never.
Guy smiled and rose. “Absolutely. Let’s finish the tour of the warehouse and then Nate can be on his way.”
She and Sterling stood. He blocked her from following as Guy headed toward the door. Sterling’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in an obvious mute question: What the hell was she thinking?
Sasha patted Sterling’s arm and eased past him, aware that any more contact in front of Guy or Marco would be dangerous. Hell, any contact between them was probably dangerous.
What was she thinking? That part of her wanted to show Sterling she could take care of herself, to show him that her only interest was to get this over with, not sleep with him. But most of all, she knew that Marco was a ball-buster, and if someone didn’t get to Kylie before Guy left, they’d be done.
And that someone was her.
Chapter Nine
Christiansen and Sasha led the way down the metal stairs, with Sterling following and Delhomme bringing up the rear. Christiansen had his head tilted toward Sasha’s and the two of them spoke in tones too soft for Sterling to hear; Delhomme’s boots ringing on the metal treads right behind him drowned out their words. Sterling hoped the bastard would hit him with his foot so he could turn around and punch Delhomme. It wouldn’t help anything, other than release the angry frustration coiled in his gut.
Sasha laughed at something Christiansen said, and the drug dealer smiled in response. Sterling suppressed a grimace. She was doing exactly what she needed to do—what he needed her to do. When she’d suggested going back to Christiansen’s, Sterling had to fight to keep the surprise off his face. He’d realized what she was up to, that Christiansen’s trip off-world would hamper access to his house and Kylie, but that didn’t mean Sterling had to like the idea. He certainly didn’t like her making the decision without consulting him.
Not that he’d expected her to interrupt Christiansen to ask. She’d recognized the opportunity and acted. He had to admire her quick thinking—hell, she was tougher and smarter than most other CMA agents he worked with—but how could he keep her safe if she was in the hornet’s nest? Alone?
As he reached the last step, Sterling took a long, slow breath in through his nose and released it just as slowly. It was done. Now all he could do was work with it. The frustration and concern would be there, but it couldn’t get in the way.
Christiansen led them through the aisles of towering containers, avoiding the loaders working in the front of the warehouse. “We have a last-minute shipment going out on the twenty-one-hundred flight,” he said as they reached the guarded repackaging area. “I usually don’t like to rush because it rouses attention. Keep that in mind and order in a timely manner, eh, Nate?”
“Understood.”
Christiansen waved off the armed man and stepped closer to the eye-level light panel beside the door. He pressed his palm against a lower panel and said, “Christiansen. Waterloo. Acres.”
After reading his voice, iris and retina patterns, palm print and a host of other biometric characteristics, both the upper and lower panels glowed a soft blue then dimmed.
“A Mansfield A-7 System. That’s top of the line.” Sterling was impressed but not surprised the drug dealer spared no expense to protect his business.
“Can’t be too careful,” Christiansen replied. “This anteroom will give you a good view of the process without having to contact any of the dust.” He glanced at Sasha. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”
Christiansen was a ruthless businessman with no conscience or qualms about ruining people’s lives with his product. But there was sincerity in the man’s eyes, concern for Sasha.
Sterling swallowed the growl that threatened to escape his throat. How could a man like that have any sort of a heart? And how could a girl like Sasha—or Kylie, or any of them—be so blind to what he did to others? At least Sasha had figured it out eventually. It had taken her a few years of rehab and jail time, but she knew what Christiansen really was under the suave looks and caring façade.
Didn’t she?
“I’ll be fine,” Sasha said. She smiled, but Sterling noted the strain lines near her mouth.
She didn’t feel the same connection with Christiansen as Christiansen obviously felt with her, and relief washed through Sterling. She was playing her part well. Hopefully not too well. He couldn’t afford to have her caught up in that world again. She couldn’t afford it. Not just because it threatened his rescuing Kylie, but because the thought of Sasha returning to that life—by choice or otherwise—made him sick.
Christiansen pushed the door open and gestured for her and Sterling to precede him. “Wait out here, Marco,” he said as he stepped behind Sterling. “We won’t be long.”
The far wall of the three-meter-by-six-meter drab room was almost all window, looking into a larger room. Two people—men, Sterling presumed by their size and bulk—in white hooded coveralls and full facemasks stood against opposite walls holding pulse rifles, while seven others, also wearing coveralls and face masks, sat at two long tables. On the tables, bricks of amber lay in haphazard piles that belied their street value of several hundred thousand credits. The people at the tables used sonic knives to cut the bricks to size then wrapped the pieces in a variety of product packaging Sterling recognized from market shelves and in his own cupboards. In the back of the room, sealed containers ready for shipping or opened and being repacked lined the walls.
“This seems like a small crew for such a vast operation.”
Christiansen nodded toward the window. “This is only one of my packaging units. The smallest one. There are other sites off the grid and dummied by different names and companies.”
Which could explain why the Justice Department hadn’t nailed him yet. For all his public flouting of authority, Christiansen was smart enough to spread out and hide his enterprise from prying eyes.
Sterling noticed the faint tinge of orange-brown in the air of the work room. “Good thing your people are wearing masks.”
“Dust from the cutting is collected through a series of vacuums and filters,” Christiansen said. “I need them functioning here.”
“What do you do with the dust?” Sterling asked as they observed the workers.
“Teasers.” Sasha answered for him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Dealers offer teaser cubes to new customers to get them hooked. Get them coming back to pay more for the good stuff.”
Is that how she’d been lured to the drug, by some low-life street dealer offering her a free hit? Considering the amount of amber Christiansen’s operation moved, it was a reliable strategy. And he was only one of several successful dealers on Nevarro. How many of those teasers were handed out like candy?
Poor kid. Sterling knew how a vulnerable girl, fresh from some Podunk mining town, might get caught up in the life. He wanted to tell her no one could blame her for that, but that wasn’t his role right now.
Christiansen put his arm around her shoulder and drew her close. He leaned down, murmured something then kissed the top of her head.
Rage surged through Sterling. He wanted to rip the man’s arm off and beat him to a bloody pulp for what he’d done to her. For touching her. How could Christiansen have loved her if he allowed her to go through years of hell?
The drug dealer caught Sterling’s eye over the top of Sash
a’s head. “The dust is mixed with an organic, edible adhesive, so it sticks together but is easily crumbled for consumption. It’s not as pure as the bricks, of course, but it gets the job done. I can have some sent with your first shipment.”
“That sounds great,” Sterling said, the words rasping in his throat. He swallowed twice and peered through the window again. “You trust those guys in there not to pocket any for themselves, to use or sell?”
“Everyone in contact with the product is checked before leaving the room or the building.”
Sterling nodded. “By the guys with the guns?”
“I pay them well enough to ensure their loyalty.” Christiansen chuckled. “And if I didn’t trust them, they wouldn’t have weapons, right? Don’t worry, I know who I can trust and who needs watching.”
Sterling nodded again, wondering how Marco Delhomme fared on that list.
“There you have it,” Christiansen continued. “Any questions?”
“Nope.” Sterling turned toward him and Sasha, ignoring the arm still around her shoulder. “I’m good.”
Christiansen guided Sasha to the door and they left the anteroom. Out in the warehouse, Delhomme was leaning against the wall, looking bored, while the guard remained alert for any trouble. What trouble he could possibly find in a well-guarded, secured facility, Sterling couldn’t guess, but the man did his job.
Christiansen nodded to the guard, who grunted and repositioned himself in front of the door.
“Let me know if you have any questions or concerns, Nate,” Christiansen said as the four of them wound their way back to the entrance. “I think Kettrick can be a fairly straightforward operation once we get the initial shipments through.”
“And hopefully profitable,” Sterling added.
Christiansen smiled. “Always.” They stopped at the hall leading to the door Sterling and Sasha entered earlier, and the drug dealer held out his hand. His other arm stayed around Sasha’s shoulder. “Glad you came by tonight. We’ll talk again before I leave next week.”