Spy to Die For (Assassins Guild) (2 page)

“Well, then,” he said, his hand retreating to his side of the table. “I guess I’ll have to wait for mine.”

Skye could hear the burger sizzling, so it wouldn’t take very long.

“What about my special soda?” he asked Delores. “I’m thirsty as hell.”

“I shut down the fountain,” she said. “Drink her water.”

“No one should drink that water,” Jack said. “I swear it’s another life-form.”

“Naw,” Delores said. “But I wouldn’t bet against other life-forms living in it.”

She wiped her hands on an apron as filthy as the table, then stalked to the back.

“I want the soda!” Jack yelled after her.

“I want some handsome prince to rescue me from all this,” Delores shouted back. “I doubt either one of us will get our wish.”

“You can have my water,” Skye said to him. “I don’t mind.”

He was still looking toward Delores. Then he turned his attention to Skye and she felt the power of that face again. He wasn’t the most handsome man she had ever seen, but something about him took her breath away.

“I’m sure you don’t mind if I have your water,” he said. “I’d pour it out if I didn’t think it might melt the floor away and Delores would charge us for it.”

“I heard that,” Delores yelled.

“And I heard that comment about a handsome prince,” he yelled back, then added just loud enough for Skye to hear, “and that gave me some imagery I’ll never get out of my head.”

Skye chuckled. When had she last chuckled? This man was fun in addition to being attractive. She wasn’t even sure when she’d last had some fun in her life.

“Eat your burger,” he said, “before I do.”

She reached for it, but he touched her arm, stopping her. His mood seemed to have changed in an instant.

“You have eaten here before, right?” He sounded worried.

She wasn’t used to answering direct questions, even questions as seemingly innocuous as that one. “Why?”

“Because, as good as the burgers are, and I think they’re the best in the sector, they do have added bits of—um—shall we say… unidentifiable material? Usually added after cooking, in the transfer to the plate.”

“Or from the plate itself,” Skye said. “If I thought there was a more antiseptic way of serving these things, I would have asked for it.”

He grinned and leaned back, again removing his hand so quickly from her skin that he seemed to be afraid she’d burn him. His tone was calmer than his movements.

“Ah,” he said, “so you have eaten here before.”

“Of course,” she said. “And I make it a point of eating here whenever I can. Because I agree: these are the best burgers in the sector.”

The sentence had barely come out of her mouth when her breath caught.
Whoa.
She had been paying attention, and she had still said too much in that simple response.
You
want
to
find
Skye
on
Krell? Go to the Starcatcher. She’s traveled all over the sector, eaten burgers all over the sector, and she comes here as often as she can.

You
want
to
find
Skye
anywhere? Burger joints.

She grabbed the burger off the plate and squished the bun against the meat. The bacon curved upward. She was going to pretend that she hadn’t just revealed a ton of stuff about herself, pretend that her lack of caution didn’t bother her, pretend that she was just an average woman flirting with an average (if tall) man.

He didn’t seem to notice any of the revelations. Or if he did, he didn’t seem to care.

Which was exactly what she would have done if she had just learned something important.

She mentally kicked herself. She was acting like an untrained rookie, and she knew it.

She just didn’t know how to stop.

Check that: she knew how to stop. She had never acted like this, not even as an untrained rookie. But then, she had never met a man whose sheer attractiveness had fritzed out her brain before.

He was looking at her in pleased puzzlement. “You know,” he said, “I have never met a woman who likes to eat here before.”

Skye didn’t believe that for an instant. Her heart sank just a bit. Was he exaggerating? Making conversation? And why should it matter if he was?

She really wanted him to be as attracted to her as she was to him. That’s why.

“Delores likes to eat here,” Skye said, deciding to go for the banter after all.

He mock-frowned, and shook his head. “Delores doesn’t eat here. Are you kidding? She knows what goes into the food.”

His eyes were twinkling, and suddenly Skye understood. He was deliberately playing with her, because she was holding her burger but hadn’t eaten it. He was trying to put her off her food, maybe to see how far her own bravado went.

She tilted the burger at him, then slowly eased it into her mouth. Juice dripped onto her tongue and lips, and some ran down her chin. So much for being provocative and sexy. Now she was just going for the teenage gross-out.

And since she was committed, she went all the way with it. She took the biggest bite she could and savored that burger. There was a lot to savor: the charred meat (she still wouldn’t say categorically that it was real hamburger), the cheese (which, despite its bright orange color,
was
real), the squishy bacon (could also be fake), and all those unidentifiable (and a tad too crunchy) other things hidden inside that bun.

Jack watched her eat as if he’d never seen anyone eat before. Maybe he expected her to gag and grimace. Instead she chewed slowly, her stomach growling. She really had been hungry, and she really had wanted this burger.

She didn’t even set it down all the way, although she did shift it to one hand as she groped for the napkin to clean off her chin.

He handed her a folded napkin. She could see the stains on its surface, and wondered when it had last been washed.
If
it had been washed. For all she knew, the Starcatcher simply refolded the napkins before putting them on the table, tossing them when they started feeling too crusty.

Not even that thought bothered her enough to stop cleaning the burger juice off her chin.

She’d helped assassins hide dead bodies, hidden in garbage scows to get information for the Guild, spent a month on a cargo ship with barely enough water to drink and certainly not enough to bathe in. It would take more than a filthy napkin and some hamburger juice to gross her out.

“Good?” he asked.

“Goo,” she replied, nodding, her mouth filled with the second bite.

He grinned. “You’re not like any other woman I’ve ever met.”

She sure hoped he meant that as a compliment. But she was too busy devouring that burger to ask.

Then Delores showed up with his burger. It was taller than hers—the extra bacon, probably—and the cheese looked like an orange patty all by itself. He thanked her and tossed her a credit chip, something Skye hadn’t seen in years. She didn’t think anyone used credit chips anymore. How old-fashioned of him. Or maybe he was just cautious.

Delores pocketed her chip and said, “You got fifteen minutes, or we’ll lock you in.”

He hadn’t taken a bite yet. “Special soda, and I’ll give you another chip.”

“No,” she said. “I mean it. I’ve been working thirty-six hours straight, and I’m done with you people for the next forty-eight.”

Then she stalked off.

Skye set down the remaining section of her burger and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The back of her hand had to be cleaner than that damn napkin.

“Sounds like she does mean it,” Skye said.

“She does.” Jack took the top part of the bun off his burger and added condiments—multicolored condiments. She’d guess that they were ketchup or mustard or mayonnaise, but that was presuming too much.

Besides, watching him do that made her stomach do a slow flip. She didn’t mind the filthy restaurant and the mystery substances on her fried/grilled/cooked burger. But those condiments might have been in those containers for a year and left completely untouched.

He clearly noted her skeptical expression. “Don’t worry,” he said. “They’re as fake as the meat. There’s nothing in these condiments that can spoil.”

“I don’t like to think that the meat is fake,” she said.

“I don’t like to think that the meat is real,” he said. “Where do they get it out here?”

That stopped her stomach from spinning. She’d grown up with budding assassins, for heaven’s sake. She knew how to gross out someone better than this Jack Hunter ever could.

She finished her burger, even though she now felt like she was in an eating contest with him. He was going through his quickly, the condiments dripping off onto the plate and table.

When she finished, she handed him the dirty napkin. He held it in one hand and finished feeding himself with the other. Then he wiped off his mouth with a flourish.

“Two minutes to spare,” he said.

She tapped a chip on the back of her hand, showing her the time. She hated the “useful” augmentations that put that stuff just inside the eye.

He was right. They had two minutes to spare, and they certainly weren’t going to spend that bussing tables. The only reason anyone bussed a table in this place was to have a place to sit down.

“Amazing,” she said and then burped. So ladylike. Ah, well. She hadn’t acted politely since she met him; wasn’t time to start now. She didn’t even excuse herself.

His grin grew, and his eyes twinkled. God, he had a pleasant face. She really liked that.

“How about getting a drink?” he asked. “I still want that special soda.”

She’d never had the local sweetwater, as a friend once called it. She had no idea how they made the special soda here on Krell, and she was afraid to find out that the stuff wasn’t boiled or sterilized or pasteurized or whatever the hell companies did to purify liquids way out here. Not that they’d want anyone to get sick here, but public safety regulations really weren’t Krell’s strong suit. That was one of the reasons why so many shady characters showed up here on such a regular basis.

She counted herself as one of those shady characters.

“A drink sounds good,” she said as she stood. She extended a hand to help him up and to her surprise, he took it. For a half second, she thought he was going to tower over her, but he hunched.

“Good,” he said, not letting go of her hand. Instead, he used it to drag her out of this place. Did he actually believe Delores would lock them in?

Perhaps he did. But then, he knew her better than Skye did.

They made it outside—if, indeed, the concourse could be called “outside”—and the door locked behind them with an audible click. Skye turned slightly and saw Delores frowning at her through the window.

Jack still held her hand, but he hadn’t moved. Skye glanced at him and was startled when her gaze hit his torso.

He had stood up. Upright. To his full height.

Which, she had to admit, was impressive.

The top of his head nearly bumped the concourse’s ceiling. She had thought he was tall before, but he was
really
tall. She had never seen a human in space who was that tall, bar none.

She craned her neck, saw the elegant line of his throat and the underside of his chin. He had just a bit of growth. It gave him a rough, careless look. She suspected if he cleaned up a bit, he would be so handsome everyone would remember him.

Not that they could forget his height.

“How in the universe do you manage?” she asked him, her neck getting just a little sore from looking up at him.

He was scanning the area—probably for open bars. “Manage what?”

“This,” she said. “Space stations. Space
ships
for that matter. Being out here, where everything is built for people like me.”

He looked down on her. How many people had done that in the last few years? She could probably count them on one hand.

It made her feel like she was on Kordita standing next to a tree.

“It’s not so bad,” he said.

“Not so bad?” she asked. “You have to watch your head all the time.”

“As if that were possible,” he said with a smile. “I can’t see my head.”

He went back to scanning.

She got the message. He didn’t like talking about his height. Interesting. Well, everything about him was interesting.
Everything
. She squeezed his hand.

“Drink?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I suppose you want alcohol.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I generally avoid the stuff.”

He looked down on her again, those blue eyes suddenly serious. “You like crusty Starcatcher burgers, you burp like a cargo jockey, and you don’t drink. What
are
you?”

Her heart twisted a bit. She was always a surprise to people. She wondered if he no longer found her attractive. (Had he found her attractive? Or had she just imagined that? Still, he was holding her hand…)

“I’m clearly not a girl, right?” she said. “Or at least one you’d find in polite company.”

He chuckled. “Like there’s polite company on Krell.”

“Good point,” she said.

“Come on,” he said. “There should be a place across the way which, if I remember right, is open continually.”

Then he dragged her forward and she went. She had to walk fast to keep up with him. That surprised her. They maneuvered around the open-air part of the restaurant, with its locked chairs, across the actual concourse to the other side, with its other open-air sections.

Most of them were closed. The shops had locked up and so had the restaurants, but the bars were open.

Three had revolving “open” signs in their windows, but only one had an open-air section. It was close to the exterior walls of the bar, and there were only a few tables, but she knew that Jack would choose to sit there.

And she couldn’t blame him. He didn’t have to worry about hitting his head.

There was one available table, but she had a hunch it wouldn’t be available for long. She squeezed his hand and said, “You get the table, I’ll get the drinks.”