Final Protocol (3 page)

“That’s a good girl.”

Garner wasn’t happy with me.

He was waiting outside the club, playing his brother’s ever-vigilant watchdog, his cadre of men spaced out around him on the multileveled street.

Two of them were already shadowing me, and my skin was crawling because at some point soon, I expected them to take me down. I’d messed up a job. The punishment would be in pain or flesh.

I preferred pain and I even hoped for the bastards behind me to make a move. I was ready for it. Ready, prepared, a blade tucked discreetly in one hand. When they moved on me, I’d kill at least one.

I always did.

That was one of the reasons Garner hated me.

To date, he’d lost nine men to me.

He’d broken every rib in my body, eight fingers—and several of them twice or three times over—my left knee, my right cheekbone, both bones in my left forearm, and he’d dislocated my right shoulder. Twice. Of course, he always had help. I’d killed his men on my own. Perhaps that was why he looked at me with ugly hate in his eyes.

As I came into his line of sight, I let a smile curve my lips, despite the fact that I could all but feel the heavy breaths of Dahm coming down my neck.

“Dahm.”

Those breaths stilled.

“You should invest in some breath tonics. I hear they even sell something that will cover up that lizard smell. You could almost pass for humanoid as long as one didn’t look at you.”

A low, ugly hiss escaped the Vagarian, and I dodged to the left just in time to avoid having his claws punch through my spleen. Sliding him a smile, I waggled a finger. “Now, now. You know how the boss is. He doesn’t mind if I’m broken, but he’d rather me not be bleeding when you throw me at his feet.”

Dahm opened his great maw, flashing wicked teeth and treating me to a faceful of breath toxic enough to kill a dead pack animal. Fortunately, I knew better than to breathe in. Vagarians had been known to stun people with that stink of their breath alone, and if you got enough of that rot in your lungs, it could render you sick. His flat, black eyes flicked over me and I spun the staff I’d brought with me, smiling.

“Want to dance?”

“He waits,” Dahm said, his forked tongue dragging over the
s
.

“Yes. I’ll be sure to let him know you wanted to chat.”

He snapped his jaws at me and pointed past my shoulder.

We were done. Dahm wouldn’t risk angering the man who held the controls over
his
seal, either.

None of us wanted to do that. Well, I did. But most of them weren’t as close to crazy as I was.

I doubted any of them hated the man who controlled this portion of Jakor as much as I did. One of the more depraved colonies of New Earth, it was a forgotten, fucked-up piece of hell and my keeper ruled over it with an iron fist.

It wasn’t just the miles that he owned, or the clubs, or even the land outside the city of Jakor. He had his hands in the pockets of officials; he knew secrets that could destroy the government. People smiled to his face and behind his back, they dreamed of his death.

I doubted any of them wanted him dead as much as I did though. I was almost crazy enough to try for it, and screw how many others it damned.

Almost. But I wasn’t there
yet
.

The night was young though.

Depending on what happened in his offices tonight, it was entirely possible I might end up crossing that line before the twin suns crossed the horizon.

The pulse and throb of the music assaulted me as I went inside.

I mean…
assaulted
me.

He ran a den of sin and the music was little more than a form of rape, taunting the brain and teasing the area that brought about arousal and made you think of sex and sweat and bodies rubbing together.

My eyes adjusted to the pulsing silver-and-purple lights enough to see that many of the bodies packed inside his club were already rubbing together. As I passed by one table, one of the hustlers came up to one of the couples, tapping the male on his shoulder. The couple was odd, a bulky, leather-skinned Cragorian and some other humanoid—she had blue skin and winglike appendages instead of arms—rather pretty, really. The two of them were directed to one of the skin booths, and when the male of the pair balked, the hustler simply stared him down.

They’d pay, or they’d hurt.

Nobody would do anything about it, either.

Not here.

Not anywhere in the Mihor quadrant, the slice of land all but ruled by one very depraved king. Perhaps he wasn’t a king in truth, but he might as well be.

“If you’re in the mood to watch, he might let you. After he’s done.”

I looked away from the couple to find Garner staring at me with his dark, dead eyes. “Watching isn’t really my thing, Garner.”

“No. You prefer to fuck my brother and try to play cunt-games with him.” He leaned in, the smell of synthetic garlic heavy on his breath. “The games don’t work. But it’s fun to watch you try.”

My gut rolled.
Play
with his brother. If only I had much choice in it. I’d stay on the other side of the galaxy if I had any say in the matter. But I didn’t mention that. If either of them had any idea just how deep my revulsion ran, it would become a tool, a weapon against me. Instead of showing how I felt, I reached up and touched a finger to his cheek. “You spend an awful lot of time worrying about the games I play with your brother, Garner… What’s the matter?” I leaned in closer and pressed my lips to his ear. “Are you jealous?”

Then I pushed around him and headed for the center of the dance floor.

You might think he’d have his offices in the back. Or down below the floor, in a dungeon, where monsters like him should rot.

But no. He kept his offices high above, and if I wanted in during business hours, I had to take the tube in the middle of the floor. Where he could see me coming.

Garner was right behind me.

I pretended not to notice.

It wasn’t that hard. If he were going to try and hurt me, he’d have had more of his men with him, and he would have done it outside.

That meant I had a bigger fear to concern myself with. I’d rather take pain over his other forms of keeping me in line. Pain was easy. The humiliations… Shudders gripped me, wrenched at me, even as I fought not to let Garner see any sign of what I was feeling.

No matter what he’d said to get me here, my
handler
wouldn’t just let me walk away from a job like that.

There would be a reckoning.

And if he wouldn’t take it in blood, he’d take it in flesh.

My body was already burning.

My soul was already screaming.

A hand came up behind me and shoved me into the tube and then Garner crowded in around me.

As it sucked us up into the air, I bowed my head, my hands braced on the smooth, clear ’stene surface.

I’d get through this.

I’d done it before.

I’d even do this job, I thought, just because doing it took me away from Jakor. Maybe this would be the last one. Maybe when it was done, I’d guide my transport into the nearest star and end it, swift and easy. Or I could just fuck with the wiring on my transport, dump the oxygen supply—I knew how to do that. I’d killed one of my targets that way once. It wasn’t a pleasant way to die, but I didn’t need pleasant. I just needed it done and final.

Anything to be away from here, forever.

The tube opened up and Garner slid past me.

I stepped outside and slowly lifted my head. Darkness greeted me. This…this wasn’t good. Heart hammering against my ribs, sweat trickling down between my breasts, my shoulder blades, a dull memory worked its way free. It was an old memory; more than a decade had passed since that day. The first time I truly
remembered
much of anything…including the man who awaited me somewhere in the darkness.

He owed me money. But he was too afraid to face me himself…so I’m taking you instead. You’ll have to serve in his stead…

And here I was. Still serving. Still trapped.

It would end when I made it end.

Twelve years. It was enough.

Yes. I’d do this final job, and then I’d find a way to end this. I’d either find that botanist, or I’d find my own end. Either way, I’d never return here, to this place, ever again.

A shimmer of gold moved in the darkness and I turned my head, saw him.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I managed to form words.

“Hello, Gold.”

Chapter Three

“Garner.”

That was all Gold said.

A moment later, I heard the sibilant
hiss
of the tube as Garner left us alone. A bead of sweat formed on my nape, rolled down my back under the close-fitting tunic I wore. Inside my black gloves, my hands were damp, slick with sweat. My heart raced.

I hated to feel fear, especially fear of him.

My eyes adjusted to the dim light just in time to see him coming out of the deepest shadows toward me, an elegant figure of gold and black. His beauty was almost surreal, cheekbones high and carved, his mouth sensual but with a cruel slant to it. Fitting, since he was one of the cruelest bastards I’d ever met.

His hair fell loose around his shoulders, brushing the silk tunic his wore, the shimmering gold a stark contrast to the darkness of his clothes. His hair was a few shades paler than his skin, almost the same shade as his eyes—golden. Under those clothes, everything about him was golden. Hair, eyes, skin, all golden, like kir, the potent liquor brewed in the back alleys in this quadrant.

The kir was safer though. You might end up so intoxicated that you’d get robbed blind and never remember anything of the past night, but with Gold? You could lose your soul—and you’d remember, regret every single moment. And sometimes, you’d lie awake at night, burning to feel it again, even as you hated yourself for it.

I knew it from experience. He was an addiction I’d suffered from for more than ten years and I still hadn’t been able to kick the habit. I’d do it soon though. This would be my last taste. And maybe he’d make it easy. Maybe he’d be in the mood to bring me pain on his own. That made it easier. Pain was so much easier to ignore than pleasure.

Today, he wore all black, the fine silk clinging to a long, lean body, stark in its simplicity, and foreboding, if you knew enough about him.

Gold was a fickle bastard, and a showy one.

He dressed to suit his moods, and it wasn’t unusual to see him strutting about like one of the peacocks you could see in the New Earth zoos, populated with animals from Old Earth. Just like the exotic birds, he liked color and flash, going with bright hues that set off his extraordinary eyes and gleamed against bronzed skin. More than a few people had mistaken his affinity for luxury and taken him for an easy mark. More than a few of those were dead.

Today, he wore all black and it served as a warning.

But when he met my eyes, he smiled.

I didn’t let myself move. Didn’t let myself respond. Part of me still hoped I’d get out of here without hating myself all over again.

“You failed me, Silence,” he murmured. He reached up and stroked a finger down my cheek.

“I explained the circumstances,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

“Hmmm.” He slid a hand around, his fingers idly probing the spot at the nape of my neck. To some, it might look like a lazy caress. To me, it was a dire threat. The bioseal was buried there, inside my brain matter, locked within me.

His hand fell away and he looked over my shoulder.

And even though he’d done this more than once, even though I’d suspected he’d do it again, there was no time to brace myself.

The biotronic system was too fast to evade, and in a heartbeat, I was trapped in what looked like a gossamer web but felt like bonds of ’stene. As it tightened around me, I sucked in as much air as I could, expanding my rib cage. Once, he’d done this and it had wrapped around me so tightly, I’d thought I’d smother.

But that wasn’t his torture today. It stopped when it had me restrained, and Gold went about stripping my weapons away.

Biotronic arms slid out from behind me, grabbing the weapons from him and whisking them away. He found every last one, including the garrote I’d tucked inside my collar, every last dart I carried on me and the stunners. There was a small glass vial of poison and he took that, holding it up to the light and studying it before turning it over to the biotronic arms. In moments, he was done and I felt stripped bare.

I’d rather have weapons and be naked when I had to deal with him than have no weapons and face him like this. Bound and trapped.

“One might think you didn’t feel safe coming to see me,” he said, studying me from under the thick fringe of his lashes.

“Safety is an illusion with you.” I clenched my hands into fists. If I could get free, I could kill him with my bare hands. I knew how. He’d seen to that. Even though it wouldn’t be as easy as I’d like, I thought I could do it.

His eyes glinted as he lowered his head. A smile curved his lips. He knew what I was thinking.

The bastard.

Evil, smug bastard.

His hands came up, pushed into my black hair. He tangled the short strands around his fingers and tugged, pulling my head back until I looked up at him. “You are as safe with me as you choose to be.” A faint line appeared between his brows, a sign he was communicating with the biotronic system.

The fabric of the clothing I wore was sturdy, designed to hold up to blades, burns and beatings. But it wasn’t meant to withstand the power a biotronic force could exert, and my body jerked as the tunic was torn away.

“How safe do you wish to be, Silence?”

I closed my eyes.

Sometimes, I could just let myself float away. Sometimes, he even let me, content to just make use of me, because he could, to make a point.

The hand in my hair tightened, a slow, subtle warning, while his other hand settled on my side and slid upward. “Look at me, Silence. Look at me now.”

I resisted and he sighed, the warm caress of his breath drifting over my skin.

“You must always push me.”

A moment later, his teeth sank into my lower lip, a punishing bite that thrilled me and sent heat racing through me even as it hurt. As the taste of blood filled my mouth, he trailed his lips up over my cheek. “How far will you push me tonight, Silence? I already want to break you.”

I lifted my lashes, looked at him through them, tried to hide the hate and the hunger that warred inside me. “You’ve been trying to break me for more than ten years. Why should tonight be any different?”

To my surprise, he laughed.

“Indeed.”

He eased back and went to his knees in front of me. It was Gold who stripped my trousers away, the close-fitting material that all but clung to me like a skin. He worked it down over my hips, paused to kiss the prominent bones there and stopped when he reached my knees, where the ’stene cords kept my legs bound together. “Like this,” he murmured, rising to stare at me. “I think I want you like this, bound, not quite naked, and glaring at me. All that hate in your eyes. You won’t let me break you…not completely, will you?”

I looked away, sucking in ragged breaths and trying not to react. I couldn’t stop it. My skin burned. My nipples were tight. My heart hammered against my ribs and everything inside me felt liquid and ready.

Except my mind.

Closing my eyes against what was happening, I forced my limbs to go tight, curled my hands into fists so I didn’t give in to the urge to reach out. It didn’t matter that I was bound and I couldn’t touch him unless he let me. He’d know if I even
tried
to reach for him, and he’d see that small surrender.

When he came up behind me, I bit my lip to keep from making a sound. The ’stene bindings contracted and shifted and I was forced to bend, kneeling before him with my pants still trapping my thighs together. “I’ll fuck you like this, over and over,” Gold said, stroking one hand over my ass. “You’ll beg. Whether you beg for more or beg me to stop, I don’t care. You’ll beg, and you’ll remember who you belong to, Silence.”

His hands closed around my hips and I pressed my brow to the floor.

Beg him to stop…now
.

I opened my mouth, but then I felt the head of his cock teasing my entrance and a gasp lodged in my throat. My traitorous body stole my breath as he rocked back and forth over me, against me, sliding slickly over the mouth of my pussy, and then I cried out as he surged deep.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice cool and unaffected. One hand fisted in my hair and jerked me up until I was plastered to his body. “Scream for me, Silence. Let me know you’re mine.”

“No.”

“Yes.” He slid his other hand around, pinched my clit.

The sensation cut into me, tore through me. I bit my lip to keep from letting the cry break free this time.

“So stubborn…”

His hands dug into my hips as he lifted me, yanking me back to meet each hard, driving thrust. Hot, vicious pleasure rose inside me. I fought against it, struggled to disconnect myself.

I didn’t want to feel pleasure. I didn’t want to enjoy the way his cock stretched me, filled me. I didn’t want to love the way he
hurt
me—

His thumb pressed against the entrance to my bottom. I groaned, despite my determination to keep my reactions hidden, and he chuckled. “Scream, Silence. Beg me. Moan.” He bent low over me as he pushed his thumb inside and rotated it. “
Break…
”

And I did.

Once more, I broke for him.

While inside, I wept for myself.

I didn’t look at my reflection. I couldn’t stand the thought of it. It might be days before I could stomach it, so I’d avoid it as long as possible. There was a soft hiss behind me, and I tensed as Gold moved into the bathing chamber, joining me as I finished drawing on the clothing he’d left out for me.

Everything fit like a glove, and the cut…the material was far finer than the basic gear I preferred. I planned to burn every damn thing that touched my skin.

His hand slid up my back, settled between my shoulder blades. I could feel the weight of his gaze boring into me, willing me to look at him.

No. He’d forced me to look at him enough during the night. The memory of the past hours were seared into my mind. Every inch of me felt gloriously bruised and the aches would linger with me. I’d loved every second of it, even as I hated myself. Just as he’d wanted.

“Are you ready to go into detail about the job?” I asked, keeping my voice flat.

“Hmmm.” He tucked his face against my hair and I went still as he breathed me in. “I like the way you smell coming out of my cleanser. You have my scent on your hair, your skin. Do you still ache from me?”

I didn’t answer.

He sighed and nuzzled my neck. “I have scratches that go all the way down my back. I will carry them for days. I love each one.”

I thought about the knife I had tucked into the belt. He’d returned my weapons, and unsurprisingly, the clothes he’d given me were designed to carry the weapons like a dream. I could draw that knife, spin and slit his throat. Blood would fountain. He would try to scream, but I would cut him too deeply. If I timed it just right, if I moved fast enough.

Maybe. I was fast, possibly faster than him by now. It had been years since we’d fought and he rarely left his little aerie here. He kept his body physically fit, but did he still have the cunning, the speed he’d need to stop me?

I didn’t know. I ached to try.

One thing stopped me.

I imagined I could feel it pulsing in my brain.

His hand slid down my back and the other moved to join it. As he jerked me back against him, tucking my bottom against his pelvis, I curled my hands around the counter, setting my jaw. No reaction. I was done. In the cold, hard light of day, I knew I couldn’t do this again. Humiliation and disgust all but ripped me apart.

I was almost ready to die before I gave in to him one more time.

Almost.

My hand itched, burned to pull that blade.

“I see it in your eyes.” His voice stroked against me like candy-coated poison.

I jerked my head up, and although I didn’t want to look at him, or myself, I found myself doing just that, staring into his eyes, bright against his golden skin.

“There…I see it, right there,” he murmured. “Do you know how arousing it is, to know how easily I can make you burn for me, while in the very heart of you, you want nothing more than to kill me?”

“Most men don’t find it arousing to have a woman think of murdering them while they are in the middle of fucking them.” I kept my voice flat, tried not to show any sign of how I felt inside. It wouldn’t really be murder. Not in my mind. He’d held me prisoner for years, holding my life in the palm of his hand, controlling whether I lived or died. He’d used my body against me and laughed at me when I’d fought him and he’d taunted me with all the times I hadn’t bothered to even
try
to fight. I had to get away from him, even if it meant my own death. I knew this—I just hadn’t worked up the courage to go through with it yet. When I did, though, I knew it wouldn’t be murder. Out of all the lives I’d taken, his would be the one that wouldn’t haunt me, because I had to kill him in order to know true freedom.

Not just from him.

But from myself and the chains he’d wrapped around me, body and soul.

“I’m not most men though, am I, Silence?” he asked, forcing me to turn and face him.

I kept my fists clenched. I wouldn’t react, not until I was ready to take that step. He leaned in, pressed his mouth to the curve of my neck, just above where the tunic molded to my skin. I felt his hand, sliding from the curve of my hip to my waist, and a moment later, he had one of my knives in his hand.

Then he caught my left hand, my weapon hand, in his and forced the blade into it. His eyes glinted with a queer light as he lifted my hand, guided it to his chest. “Do it, then,” he said, a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. “Do it, Silence. Use the blade. Go for a stunner and put me at your feet so you can take your time with me. Or are you uncertain if you can actually take me?”

My breath caught and held as our gazes locked. I felt stripped bare, exposed. I’d never hated that feeling more than I did in that moment. “Do it,” he said again, his voice a beguiling, seductive whisper.

“If I ever decide to come for you,” I told him, making my decision. I twisted out of his reach, breaking free far more easily than I’d ever done in the past. Something that might have been surprise showed in his eyes, but it was gone before I had much more than a glimpse. “I’ll do it at a time when you never see me coming, Gold. That is a promise I’ll give you.”