Riane nodded proudly. “My father was one of those fighters. I think Galar once said his parents were members of the resistance too.”
Jess studied her with interest. “What about your mother?”
“Oh, she isn’t Vardonese.” Riane waved an airy hand. “She’s a temporal Earth native, like you. My father was sent back to 2004 to protect her from a Xer Jumpkiller.”
Jess blinked in surprise. “Your mother was from the past?”
Riane nodded. “Before I was born. She and Dad killed Jack the Ripper.”
“The Victorian serial killer?” Jess’s jaw dropped as her interest became utter fascination.
“Yeah, only he wasn’t really a Victorian. He was a Xer assassin from the future.”
“Damn. Those Xer really are bastards, aren’t they? And he came after your mom? Why? Why’d he butcher all those women?”
Riane shrugged. “Like you said, he was a bastard. Besides, he’d found a way to make money off the murders. He recorded his crimes for a bunch of equally sociopathic subscribers back on Xer.”
“Sounds like he needed killing.”
“Oh, yeah, on a lot of levels. He’d been part of the Xer invasion force years before, and he’d done some nasty stuff to my dad that really messed him up.”
“But Jane—Riane’s mother—helped Baran get over it,” Frieka added. “Then they kacked the son of a bitch.”
“And ended up falling in love,” Riane finished. “It was all kind of romantic.”
Damn, Jess thought, wishing she could talk to Riane’s mother. How had she adjusted to life in the future? What had it been like, falling in love with one of these superhuman Warlords?
Her gaze tracked involuntarily to the trid of Galar and his parents. He’d looked young then, almost innocent—not at all the hard-edged warrior she knew. “He was so handsome back then, it’s almost ridiculous. But you know, I think he’s sexier now. He’s got more of an edge or something. Makes him more interesting.”
“The Master Enforcer?” Riane stared at her blankly. “Sexy?”
Jess lifted her brows. “You don’t think he’s sexy?”
“Oh, I don’t mean he’s not attractive,” the Warfem said hastily. “But I guess I haven’t really thought in terms of sleeping with him. He’s a little too . . . cold.”
“Cold? Galar?” She remembered how he’d cuddled her in his arms, helping her keep the fear and confusion at bay. “Hardly.”
Riane straightened, looking vaguely alarmed. “You’re getting hooked on him, aren’t you?”
“Riane.” The wolf’s tone was warning.
She shot him a defensive look. “Well, Jessica needs to know.”
“No, she doesn’t. It’s none of your damned business. Besides, have you forgotten the last time he ripped a strip off you over this? He hates being gossiped about.”
Riane’s expression turned mulish. “I don’t care. She’s a nice person, and he—”
“What are you talking about?” Jess demanded, exasperated by the cryptic conversation.
“Getting emotionally involved with the Master Enforcer is a really bad idea.” Riane tilted her chin in rebellion at the big wolf. He flopped back on the floor in disgust.
“Why?”
“He’s . . . got a pretty dark past. See, he got mixed up with this Femmat spy when he was with Military Intelligence. ”
“A spy? Galar?” Jess blinked. “And I thought you said the Vardonese were nonviolent and law-abiding. That doesn’t sound like any spy I ever heard of.”
“That’s the rest of the Vardonese population,” Frieka said, lifting his head. “The Femmats realized good scientists and government officials actually need ambition and aggression, maybe even a little ruthlessness. So they kept those characteristics in the aristocracy.”
“Unfortunately, that means some of them occasionally commit crimes,” Riane explained. “Particularly the bunch that admire the Xer.”
“They admire the people that invaded them?” Remembering her own attacker, Jess grimaced. “Are they nuts?”
“There’s a faction that thinks the ruling party has gone too far in eliminating negative qualities from Vardonese society. They think the planetary population has become too soft, too spineless,” Riane told her. “They want the Xer back so the Vardonese can relearn the so-called ‘military virtues.’”
“Yeah, serial killing sounds real virtuous. And Galar was dating somebody like that?”
“Oh, he didn’t know she was a spy. He thought she was a loyal Femmat intelligence officer. She had a computer implant, you see, which she used to hide her emotional reactions whenever she lied to him. Which was most of the time.”
The wolf flicked an ear. “I don’t know what the hell he was thinking, falling in love with a Femmat. You can’t trust those little bitches. You want to talk cold . . .”
“He eventually realized she was involved in the Xeran spy ring he was investigating,” Riane continued, ignoring the wolf. “He confronted her, and she tried to kill him.” She shrugged. “But he shot first. Still got most of an arm blown off, though.”
Jess stared at the Warfem, appalled. “He did? But . . .”
“It grew back. Regeneration.”
“Oh.”
“The upshot is that he doesn’t trust women anymore,” Riane told her bluntly. “Actually, he doesn’t trust anybody. He’s pretty well ice cold all the way to the bone. You need to stay away from him or you’ll get hurt. Badly.”
Put that way, Galar did sound like a very bad bet, Jess thought. Thing was, she didn’t believe it. “I don’t think you’re being quite fair to him,” she said slowly. “He’s been very kind to me. This EDI of mine . . . it’s been hard adjusting, but he—” Remembering the heat of Galar’s big body, the tender warmth of his mouth, she felt a blush climb her cheeks. “—helped me.”
“Yeah.” Riane lifted a knowing brow. “I’ll just bet he did.”
“Riane, I’m going to bite you.” The growl rumbling in Frieka’s chest suggested he meant every word of the threat.
His partner ignored him, a militant light in her eyes. “Warlords can be very seductive. All Vardonese Warriors are engineered for strong sex drives anyway, but the males are especially—”
“Horny?” Jess put in drily.
“Pretty much. Thing is, I’ve been here a year, and I’ve never known of Galar bedding anybody. I’m told he’s got a thing about sleeping with people he works with. But since he doesn’t work with you . . .”
Frieka rose to all fours, his ruff lifting, his lips pulling back from impressive fangs as he stalked stiff-legged toward his partner. “Riane. Shut. Up.”
Jess pulled her legs up on the bed away from the cyborg’s threatening advance, her eyes widening.
Riane snorted and waved a dismissive hand. “Ignore him. He’s all bark and no bite.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
“Umm, that’s okay,” Jess said hastily. “I get the point.” And I’d just as soon not get Frieka’s, she thought, eyeing those teeth. All six thousand of them.
But the two Enforcers ignored her in favor of glaring at each other as though having a silent, ferocious argument. She watched them, frowning.
Was Riane right? Was Galar manipulating her?
7
Brooding over what she’d learned, Jess rose from the bed and wandered around the room. Frieka and Riane still seemed to be having that completely silent—and furious— argument, at least judging by the girl’s shifting expressions.
Jess’s attention fell on what looked like a single sheet of blank white plastic. Data sheet, her EDI whispered.
Hot damn, she thought, pouncing. It began to glow with a white, even light as soon as she picked it up. A library!
The sheet held every book ever published, data densely packed into its every molecule. “Display information on Jessica Kelly, artist,” she said to it. Her knowledge might be spotty in places, but it did include how to access a data sheet.
A li
st of titles appeared on the sheet in Galactic Standard: Jessica Kelly, Genius and Tragedy; Blood and Paint—The Story of Jessica Kelly; Dead Too Young; Tragic Genius . . . The list went on, book after book.
Jessica glowered down at the sheet. “I’m sensing a theme here.” Shrugging, she flopped down on the bed and touched one of the titles at random. The text of the book flashed on-screen, and she began to read.
The window took up one entire wall of Dyami’s office, show-casing a breathtaking sweep of stars in the clear night sky. The moon rode high and full among them like a queen among courtiers, spilling a bright glow over the gently rolling mountains below. The light edged each dark tree that jutted from those high slopes as if the branches had been dipped in silver.
All in all, it was one hell of a view, but Galar knew the one from his own quarters would be just as fine. He was looking forward to making love to Jess with that glorious moon breathing a pearlescent gleam over her skin.
He turned his attention back to Dyami, who was briefing Dona Astryr and Ivar Terje. The chief had called the two into his office as soon as Galar had told him the battleborg’s real target had been Charlotte Holt.
“Obviously Master Enforcer Arvid can’t guard Kelly and investigate what the hell is going on,” the chief said as he restlessly paced his spacious office, skirting the enormous black desk that put Galar in mind of a star cruiser. “That’s where you two come in.”
Galar, Dona, and Ivar sat in the informal grouping of low, well-padded chairs beside the window. The two Enforcers had changed out of their combat gear into their dark blue uniforms. Galar felt underdressed in the twenty-first-century clothing he’d worn for his picnic with Jess.
Dona, he noticed, was watching Dyami pace with reluctant fascination. She kept dragging her gaze away, but her eyes always slid back a moment later.
Ivar was watching her watch the chief. Despite the polite attention on his face, there was a marked tension in his massive shoulders.
Hmmmm.
Since the disaster with Tlain, Galar had gotten into the habit of observing his coworkers, checking for emotional undercurrents flowing beneath the surface. The undercurrents roiling between these three raised all sorts of questions. Dyami and Dona had the mutual habit of watching each other when the other’s attention was elsewhere. Ivar had obviously noticed, and didn’t like it one damned bit. Which probably explained the edge Galar often sensed in the big man.
“You think Marcin has killed the Holt woman?” Ivar asked the chief now, his tone coolly professional. “It would explain why she disappeared from the historical record following Kelly’s ‘murder.’ ”
“It’s certainly a possibility,” Dyami said as he walked by.
Dona’s gaze dropped to his ass, then flicked guiltily away.
“Marcin said Jessica was dangerous, that we didn’t understand what we were involved in,” Galar said. “Maybe he thought Holt was dangerous too. But how could two twenty-first-century women be dangerous to a Xeran battleborg? So dangerous, in fact, he had to Jump through time to kill them. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Something else is going on here,” Dona said, running a thumb back and forth over her lower lip. Dyami glanced at her mouth as he turned to pace in the other direction, then quickly snapped his eyes away. “We’re working on incomplete information,” she continued. “And I would lay odds Holt is the key to all this. We need to focus our investigation on her.”
“But Marcin’s the battleborg,” Ivar said, slinging one leg over the other in an abrupt gesture that suggested tightly leashed anger. “He’s the killer we have to worry about.”
“But Holt may be the motivation for his crimes,” Dyami told him. “I want to know everything you can find out about her. Who is she? Where did she come from?”
“She’s already been pretty thoroughly investigated over the centuries,” Galar pointed out. “Kelly’s biographers have always considered Holt a rather suspicious figure, since none of them has ever been able to dig up much about her background. She appeared a few months prior to the murder and then was never seen again.”
“Could Holt have been a time traveler?” Dona asked.
Galar shook his head. “I wondered about that, too, so I did a thorough scan of her when we arrived. There was no sign of any molecular traces in her body that didn’t belong in the twenty-first century. And she scanned as completely human.”
“Well, there’s certainly something going on with her,” Dona said, sitting back in her chair.
“So go find out what,” Dyami ordered, turning to watch them. “Dismissed.”
The two Enforcers nodded and rose from their chairs. Dyami’s gaze dropped to Dona’s ass as they strode from the room. The chief quickly dragged his gaze away—and caught Galar watching him. He lifted a dark, cool brow. “Question, Master Enforcer?”
Galar looked steadily back. “No, sir.”
“Then go keep an eye on our little friend.”
“Yes, sir.” He gave the chief a nod, rose, and walked from the office thoughtfully.
Were Dyami and Dona having an affair? he wondered as he started down the corridor. Considering the question, Galar decided it wasn’t likely.
He’d known Dyami for years. The big Warlord had trained him when he’d first come to the Outpost as a rookie agent a decade before. Then-Master Enforcer Dyami had been a damned good partner, intelligent, thorough, and patient as he’d taught Galar the ins and outs of investigating temporal crimes. They’d become close friends, close enough that Galar was strongly tempted to ask Dyami what the hell was going on between him and Dona. But since the man was his superior officer, it wasn’t really an appropriate question.
Besides, unless he missed his guess, there wasn’t anything going on beyond a reluctant attraction. Dyami wasn’t the type to make a sexual play for a subordinate, particularly not one who was already in a romance with another of his men.
Galar’s eyes narrowed in speculation. Ivar had joined the Outpost staff only a year before, and he and Dona had promptly become a couple. Had Dona gotten involved with him to distract herself from an inappropriate attraction to Dyami?
If so, it wasn’t working.
Technically, of course, none of this was Galar’s business. But there was an uncomfortable little itch at the base of his neck that told him this situation had the potential to cause trouble. It certainly bore watching.
In the meantime, he had a romance of his own to attend to. His temporal rehab EDI suggested the best way to help a native find her feet was to give her something to do. In Jess’s case, that something was obvious. He decided to spend the next couple of hours making sure she had what she needed.
Then, perhaps, she’d be in the mood to give him what he needed.
Jessica’s going to love this, Galar thought in satisfaction as he headed back to his room a couple of hours later.
He walked in to find Jess sprawled on her belly, her chin on her fist, staring sightlessly across the room.
Galar gave her a narrow-eyed glance, then turned to dismiss Riane and Frieka. Both Enforcers slinked out. He watched them go, wondering about their collective air of guilt.
More interested in what was bothering Jessica, he walked over to the bed. She didn’t even look up.
Spotting the data sheet beside her, Galar bent and picked it up. His brows lifted as he read the text.
Ahhh.
“You know,” Jess said in a low, pain-filled voice, “my murder was the best thing that ever happened to my sister.”
Galar winced. She was probably right, but he asked cautiously, “What makes you think that?”
Instead of answering the question directly, she rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling. “Ruby was a crack addict. Lived with a succession of boyfriends who either beat the hell out of her or were her drug dealers. Or both.”
It was nothing more than the truth. “I read your file.”
“Yeah. I guess you would have.” Jess folded her hands under her he
ad and frowned at the ceiling. “You were right, by the way. She did get rich on my art.”
Misery was so plain in those blue eyes, Galar wished he could deny it without lying. Because he couldn’t, he only sighed. “That may be, but according to what I’ve read, she also grieved for you. I don’t think she ever got over it.”
“Maybe.” She was silent for a long moment. “It’s ironic, really. Ruby always thought my work sucked.”
“Well, she did kick the drugs. Maybe once she was off them, she realized how good you are.”
Jess was obviously sunk too deeply in her funk to notice the attempted compliment. “What changed everything was when she got David Sheraton involved. He was this Atlanta gallery owner with a reputation for spotting talent. He said my work was brilliant and started carrying my paintings. They began commanding huge sums of money. Critics started writing articles calling me a tragic genius.”
He sighed and sat down on the bed next to her. “Somehow I have the feeling this story is more complicated than that.”
Jessica snorted. “You have good instincts. I had an interview with Sheraton three weeks ago. Showed him my portfolio. ” Her brooding gaze met his. “He said, and I quote, ‘I’m not seeing anything special here.’”
Galar winced. “Bastard.”
“Which begs the question: Why did his opinion change a hundred and eighty degrees in three weeks? And then I realized—I was dead. I was a pretty girl who’d been mysteriously, horribly murdered. So first there’s the morbid curiosity factor, which turned all my paintings into instant collector’s items. Sheraton looked at my portfolio and thought, Ka-CHING .” Her mouth curved into a bitter smile. “Apparently that was special.”
Recognizing the deep wounds under that smile, Galar thought, All right, what am I going to do about this?
The best way to deal with Jessica’s painful realization, he decided, was honesty. He sighed and reached for her hand. Her long, slim fingers felt cool and limp in his. “Unfortunately, that’s not an unusual attitude. Another artist was targeted by an art thief assassin last year. We saved him, but the assassin came after him a second time and cut his throat.”
Warrior Page 9