Dark Runner: LodeStar 3.5 (2 page)

“Can’t Stark protect one small woman, then?” Tal asked. “You must not be worth much as a security expert.”

Berenson ignored the insult. “I could protect her, if she were still with him. She’s not.”

Only when Saia whined in protest did Tal realize his hand had tightened on her hair, pulling her head back at an awkward angle. He let go and gave her a push. “Get off me.”

She scrambled away, pouting. Trix leapt nimbly from his lap as well. Tal surged to his feet, and tossed back the contents of the small glass in front of him. The fine Serpentian fire-whiskey burned all the way down, then settled in his gut in a warm glow, centering him.
 

“Come with me.” Without looking back, he strode for the door directly behind him.

His heart was thundering out a rhythm to equal the amplified drumbeat pounding through the club. Kiri had left Stark. This meant he, Tal, had another chance.
 

He could find this Slidi creature and present her to Kiri as a gift. A small token of his esteem.
 

Then they’d see. Oh, yes, then they’d see.

* * *

Bronc Berenson regarded Tal Darkrunner across the desk in the man’s private office. The ganger lord was not as tall as he, and certainly not as broad, but in his long, black leather duster, fitted pants and boots, he gave the impression of lean, tightly coiled power. Every centimeter of it lethal.

His ebony hair hung around his angular face and broad shoulders in braids, and though Bronc would have bet the man rarely saw the sun, his skin was a rich olive—the un-inked portions at least. His hands, face and throat were all marked with ornate tattoos black as his hair. One cheek was nearly covered, the other bore only a small symbol.
 

His hands, adorned with rings and cuffs, were inked across the backs and down the back of each finger. He looked like exactly what he was—a dangerous man. And no mere thug.

His eyes, a startlingly pale, crystalline green in his dark face, glittered with intelligence and an unholy power. Those eyes said he’d dare anything to get what he wanted, and brook no resistance from anyone in his path.

Darkrunner’s face was expressionless as a mask as he gestured Bronc to a chair and dropped into the chair behind the big desk. Polite as one of Stark’s business associates, although no one, least of all Bronc, would make the mistake of thinking this man anything less than deadly.
 

Which was why they had to get him out of New Seattle—fast.

Bronc had expected to step into another sort of room entirely for his private audience with the ganger lord, one that held restraints and whips, with dried blood and other substances on the floor. A place where the ganger dealt with anyone who dared to disobey him in his dark, dirty kingdom.
 

Bronc counted himself lucky he hadn’t been invited to that other room—because he had no doubt it existed somewhere in the huge building. And although he had no illusions about walking out of here safely just because he was on a peaceful mission, he didn’t want to call in reinforcements unless absolutely necessary.
 

He’d hate like hells to set off a war in the streets of New Seattle. Not only would it hurt innocents, if there was such a thing in this city, it might cause the very event he was trying to prevent—death or injury to Logan Stark.

But instead, he found himself invited into a prosaically luxurious office, much like any wealthy businessman might have. Okay, everything in the office was either black, or gaudy as the club outside, but it was luxe.

He sat in a comfortable leather chair. Darkrunner faced him across a desk gleaming with precious woods and surrounded by sleek, efficient tools of business. The ganger should have looked out of place, but such was the force of his personality that he fit here among the computers and holoscreens, just as he did out in the garish club.

The office was shockingly quiet. The floor vibrated with the drumbeat of the club band on the other side of the wall, but no noise penetrated this sanctum. When Darkrunner spoke, his low, husky voice was clearly audible.

“Talk to me,” Darkrunner said. “Tell me about this woman.”

Cautious relief whispered through Bronc. The ganger was sniffing the bait.
 

“She’s Serpentian. Going by the name of Slidi, she worked retail at an exclusive spa boutique here, called Maitresse. Kind of place wealthy women shop and are pampered. She dropped out of sight a few months ago after stealing a large amount of credit from the owners, and reappeared on Frontiera, as the mistress of Mulos Vadyal, a known slaver.”

“Why was she fixated on Kiri?”

“Actually, her obsession seems to be with Logan Stark,” Bronc said baldly. “She tried to seduce him when he brought one of his mistresses to Maitresse. He refused her; it pissed her off a bit more than normal, because she went after the next woman he brought in.”

Bronc didn’t say this had been Kiri te Nawa, but he didn’t have to. Darkrunner’s face tightened at the mention of the woman he’d wanted being pampered by Stark.
 

“How do you know it was her who went after Kiri?”

Bronc shook his head. “She confessed, in front of a whole room full of witnesses. Weird, but she seemed more intent on letting Stark know how much she hated him than anything else. Guess she thought she had nothing left to lose—or she’s got a circuit loose. She was about to be convicted of murdering Vadyal, running slaves and a host of other shit. Seems she enjoyed mistreating Vadyal’s captures in a number of ways. Ms. te Nawa’s damned lucky you got her away from the woman.”
 

Of course Darkrunner had done this by drugging Kiri and put her on a slow freighter to Frontiera, thus expressing his displeasure at her choosing Stark over him, but still, he’d saved her.

“So you had this Slidi and let her slip,” Darkrunner jibed.

“Wasn’t LodeStar Security who lost her,” Bronc said. “IBI.”

“Oh, that’s even better. How the hells did she manage to escape them?”

Bronc grimaced. That had been a nearly unbelievable slip on the part of the InterGalactic Bureau of Investigation. No doubt at least one agent had already lost his or her job because of it.
 

He took a drink of his ale and set it aside, not without regret. It was one of his favorites, and he’d like to sit and enjoy it. He hadn’t had much chance lately.
 

“She seduced one of the guards on the transport,” he said. “Then killed him. She’s beautiful and she’s a sociopath. That combination can take a woman a long way. The oversight agents didn’t discover her escape until she was long gone.”

Darkrunner sat very still, peering out at Bronc from the shadow of the braids hanging around his face. “Any idea where she is, or where she may go next?”

Satisfaction warmed Bronc’s chest, but he merely shrugged. “Suspect she’ll head for one of Vadyal’s homes on Serpentia or his casino called the Pleasure Palace, currently moored off Frontiera.”

“The IBI must have a watch on those places.”

“They do. Like I said, they’re after her. I’m sure they’ll catch up sooner or later.”
 

“You don’t think she’ll come here?”

Bronc had been waiting for this. He nodded. “Matter of fact, this is the first place she came. But she’s not here any longer. She was last sighted entering a hangar at the space port, place that runs low-end transports and charter flights. She didn’t walk out, so we assume she slipped the planet.”
 

Then Bronc waited while Darkrunner considered this information. Bronc took another sip of his ale and then set it aside with distaste. Just as he’d feared, it was now warm.

“Why doesn’t Stark have you chasing her?” Darkrunner asked, regarding Bronc from under his lashes. It was a look as beguiling as any Bronc had seen.

Bronc shrugged. “Like I said, he and Ms. te Nawa have split up. He didn’t share why, and it’s not my business to ask. But I hate like hells to see this vicious bitch get away free.
 

“Believe me, if I were free to do so, I’d be chasing her, as fast as I could. Since I can’t, and I’m here on business, thought I’d drop a word. Your choice what you do with the information.”

He rose and nodded to the ganger, who remained in his chair, watching him with those eerie eyes. “Thanks for listening. Oh, and one other thing. Slidi worked with one of your rivals while she was here … a Mordacent or some name like that.”

“Mordacity,” Darkrunner said. Although he couldn’t see it, Bronc swore a charge of electricity filled the room, emanating from the ganger. The man’s face was taut as a statue.

Bronc shrugged indifferently, but inside he was doing a fist pump. That name had definitely caught the ganger’s interest. “Yeah. Anyway, if you find her, maybe you can get some intel. Never hurts to know your enemy, right?”

“I’ve listened,” Darkrunner said. “And I’ll consider what you’ve said. What I’m wondering is why you’ve come.” He gazed up at Bronc, and his eyes seemed to take on a deeper hue, almost blue in the shadows of his black hair. “Are we to be friends now?”

Bronc blinked to counter the urge to keep staring into those eyes, and forced his own gaze away. Fuck. No wonder the guy was so successful at what he did. He radiated a stealthy power.

All right, time to open a vein—metaphorically at least. Anything to keep the ganger from learning why he was really here.
 

“Because I hate slavers,” Bronc told him, his deep voice grating. “The fuckers took my own brother, Bart. And I’ve heard rumors that Vadyal’s gang was involved. I want this bitch and all her slimy hangers-on
dead
. And if it takes her a long, long time to die ... if she screams and begs for it in the end ... that’s okay with me too.”

Darkrunner’s brows rose. He nodded with what almost looked like respect. “Understood.”

Bronc nodded curtly and turned for the door.

“However,” the ganger said behind him, “If I find out I’ve been lied to ... there won’t be enough of you to gather for cremation. You get me?”

Bronc looked over his shoulder. “I get you.”
 

He walked out the door with his back itching, as if there were a laser pointed at it. Probably was. And he made a quarking big target.
 

Darkrunner didn’t bother to say goodbye, but then Bronc hadn’t really expected him to. He’d given the ganger a great deal to think about.

He walked back past the Mau guard lurking outside, through the crowded club, wincing at the intense blast of the music, the humid heat and smells of the worked-up crowd.
 

The elevator zipped him up to the landing pad on the top of the building, where his unmarked LodeStar cruiser waited. He boarded and nodded to the pilot and the four heavily armed LodeStar employees seated in the cabin.
 

He stopped just inside the door, waiting for the holovid scanner. It showed a virtual readout of his body, from head to toe. After a sec, the scanner having found no spybots planted on him, a green light flashed. Only then did Bronc move to one of the leather seats. He sank into it with a silent groan, suddenly exhausted.

“Think he’ll go for it?” the oldest man asked as Bronc strapped in. Gray-haired and square-jawed, Rak had been with LodeStar a long time.
 

“You were listening in, what do you think?”
 

“Sounded interested to me,” Rak said as the cruiser leapt under them, rising into the black night. “His kind don’t give away much.”

Bronc nodded. The ganger was indeed a man who didn’t reveal himself, but Bronc’s instincts said their plan was working. “I think he bit. We’ll know in a day or two.”

“I hope he goes for it,” Opal said, looking down at the lights of the city below as the cruiser gained altitude. Stark’s attendant and bodyguard on his cruiser, the silver-haired woman had also been with LodeStar for years.

Bronc looked down as well, his gut tightening. “I hope so too.”
 

Because somewhere down there beneath the garish lights, the streamers of fog and rain, was Logan Stark. Completely on his own, and for some strange reason, not himself. Lost, or hiding in one of the deadliest urban jungles on this planet, away from all the wealth, stature and people who could keep him safe.
 

“If Darkrunner finds Stark before we do ...”
 

Opal didn’t finish, but then she didn’t need to. If the ganger found Stark in his present state, whatever it was, it would be the perfect opportunity to finish his rival, for good.

“We’ll know soon, one way or the other,” put in Cork, a young but sharp ex-IGSF soldier. “If Darkrunner goes for it, he’ll do it within the next day or so, don’t you think?”

“He’ll go for it,” Rak said grimly. “The slimer won’t miss a chance to get Ms. te Nawa back. I escorted her to his club one night, and I saw the way he looked at her. You’re right about him, Bronc. He’s just the kind to think a flash move like presenting her with that Serp’s bloody corpse will get her back.”

“Let’s hope you’re right about Ms. te Nawa, too,” Opal added darkly. “That it
won’t
work.”

Bronc hoped he was right, too. When they found Stark—he wouldn’t let himself consider any alternative but his boss’s safe rescue—the man was going to need everyone who cared about him. And that included his woman. They might be estranged, but Bronc was sure Stark was in love with her. He’d seen the way the man looked at her when they brought her brother home to her, as if it was all he could do to walk away and leave her.