StarCraft II: Devils' Due (12 page)

They ran up the rest of the stairs, and Tychus

automatical y headed to the room Daisy shared with

three other girls. She shook her red head. “Not

tonight,” she said. “I told you: special.”

She led him to a door on the far end of the hal , to a

room he’d never visited before. She fished for the

key, unlocked it, and pushed open the door.

The room was lavish, painted in dark, soothing

colors, and Tychus whistled softly, impressed. Art

hung on the wal s, and the furnishings appeared to be

genuine antiques. In one corner was a large claw-foot

tub with gleaming gold fixtures. But the centerpiece of

the room was the bed. Huge, canopied, large enough

for more than two, its frame was heavy cast iron and

was probably handmade. Fanciful creatures twined

their way around the bed frame, culminating with two

gargoyles perched on smal golden orbs on each

corner. The sheets were red and satiny-looking.

“My, my, girlie, you pul out al the stops when you

say ‘special,’ don’t you?”

“I most certainly do!” laughed Daisy, throwing her

arms around him and kissing him. His massive arms

went around her and he lifted her off her feet, kissing

her back and then moving toward the bed. Daisy

pul ed free of the kiss and slapped playful y and utterly

ineffectively at the broad shoulders.

“Hey, now, this is my surprise! Don’t you go rushing

and spoiling things!”

Tychus obediently set her down on the bed and

grinned at her. “Al right, darlin’, you’re running this

show, and so far I like what I see.”

Her gaze flickered down to his crotch. “So do I,” she

said. “Now, you gotta do just as I say.”

He placed a hand to his heart and bowed

mockingly. “I am your obedient servant, madam.”

Stil ful y clothed, she kicked off her boots and

scooted back on the enormous bed, her eyes bright

with mischief. “Very good. Now. First of al , take off

your boots.”

He obeyed as she instructed him to divest himself

of boots, shirt, weapons, and pants until he stood

proudly naked before her. She patted the pil ow.

“Now, stretch out here for me,” she invited. He did

so, appreciating the fact that the bed was large

enough so he could ful y stretch out. Daisy leaned

over and kissed him, lingeringly and passionately.

She trailed her fingers over his huge chest, then up

one of his arms, and then—

Tychus laughed as a handcuff snapped into place

around his wrist, securing him to the iron bed frame.

He stared at the gleaming metal for a moment, then a

huge grin split his face.

“Oh, darlin’ Daisy,” he said, warmth in his voice, “I

didn’t know you was into this sort of thing, or we’d

have been playing games like this long before now.”

“Wel , I think tonight’s the perfect time to start,”

Daisy replied, leaning forward to kiss his nose before

snapping the second restraint around his wrist.

Tychus tugged experimental y. These were the

genuine articles, not play toys. It would seem Miss

Daisy was more hard-core than he had imagined. It

was a wonderful thought. Tychus made himself

comfortable on the pil ows, letting his arms relax in the

handcuffs, and smiled as he anticipated the delights

to come.

Daisy slipped off the bed and flounced to a large

dresser with several drawers and cabinets. She

opened a drawer and withdrew something she

playful y hid behind her as she approached the bed.

“Whatcha got there, darlin’?” he asked, waggling

his eyebrows.

Her smile grew, became one of triumph. She took

her hand from behind her back and showed him.

In her painted and manicured fingers was a hypo.

“You should have paid me two months ago when I

asked, Tychus Findlay,” she said.

Al the heat that had been rushing to his groin

dissipated, as if he had just had cold water thrown on

him. He felt armor going up around his soul just as it

did when he had put on the hardskin back in his army

days. It was the oldest trick in the book, and he’d

fal en for it. The thought infuriated him. He gave her a

little smile.

“Aw, honey, that was a nice night. I thought that was

a free-bie,” he drawled.

She laughed harshly. “You ain’t that pretty, Tychus.”

“Honey, that wounds me right to the core, that does.

Hurts my ego.”

Daisy was done bantering. She continued in a hard

voice. “And that nonsense, sending me like a damn

cal ing card to Marshal Butler when you and Jim made

off with those planet-hoppers. Also an unpaid job, I

might add. Wel , I told him quite a few things he was

mighty interested in hearing. He and his boys are

going to be here in just a few minutes. And when they

get here, I’m going to be one rich woman off that

bounty that’s on your head.”

“I think you get more if I’m alive,” he reminded her

as she scooted over to him on the bed, bringing the

needle closer to his neck. “Last time I checked,

anyway.”

“You afraid of dying, Tychus Findlay?” she scoffed.

“Course I get more money if you’re alive. This is just

enough sedatives to knock out a horse. Which should

take care of you. You hold stil , and this doesn’t have

to hurt any more than—”

He had been lying quietly, channeling his rage,

control ing it. Now, as a teased animal kept in a cage

might do, he flung open the door to his fury. Tychus

directed his rage into his right hand, wil ing it to pul

against the chain that imprisoned him, demanding

that it break. It did, with a loud crack.

Daisy’s eyes widened to the size of credit chips. An

instant later his fist, his wrist stil encircled by metal

and trailing the snapped chain, was in her face. She

flew across the bed and col apsed like a rag dol in

the corner.

He let out a bel ow of fury, using the sound to focus

his strength, and snapped the chain on the left

handcuff. His feet hit the floor with a thump, and a

heartbeat later Tychus Findlay was racing down the

stairs, shouting for Jim at the top of his lungs.

It had been a good evening for Jim Raynor.

He had been enjoying himself, as he always did

here, even before Daisy had sidled up to Tychus and

stolen him away for the rest of the evening. With

Tychus out of the game, Jim’s luck had continued to

improve, and he’d won three out of the last five hands.

The alcohol had been doing its happy job, and he had

grinned cheerful y at the glowering men whose chips

he had gathered to himself lovingly. When in his

unsteadiness a few had fal en to the floor, he had

yel ed, “Hey! Misty! Those are for you!”

“Jim, honey, you’re a dol ,” she’d shouted back

across the noisy room.

Jim went to the cashier’s table, dribbling chips

along the way and not caring because it was a drop in

the bucket. He exchanged the colorful chips for

credits and, feeling generous, bought the table of

losers he’d left a round of drinks.

He made his way, careful y, to the dance stage and

gazed up raptly at Evangelina. She gave him a big

smile and a wink, and licked her lips.

Oh, yes, Jim thought as he settled in with a beer

and a goofy smile. This night was shaping up to be

among the best he’d spent here.

And that was when he heard the bel owing.

“Jimmy! Jimmy, goddamn it, where the fekk are

you?”

There was only one person who could yel so loudly.

Jim turned, surprised, to the stairwel and blinked at

what he saw there.

Tychus Findlay, in al his unclothed glory, fil ed the

door frame. Even in the dim, smoky lighting, Jim could

see the fury on his face. The faint il umination glinted

off something metal ic around his wrists.

The band fel silent and the crowd alternately

gasped and laughed. The girls, pausing in their

dancing routine, made approving whooping noises

and applauded. Tychus ignored them al , marching

through the room as the crowd hastened to part for

him. He grabbed Jim by his shirtfront.

“Let’s go! Now! Butler’s on his way.”

“Whoa, Butler? What happened? Where’s Daisy?

And how come you’re na—”

Tychus shoved his face to within a half a centimeter

of Jim’s. “NOW!” He did not give Raynor an option.

He slipped his hand around to the back of Jim’s dark

head, tangled his fingers in his friend’s hair, and

began to pul as he ran to the door.

“Ow! Hey!” Jim tugged free and cast an apologetic

glance over his shoulder at Evangelina, who was

laughing as hard as the rest of the girls and who blew

him a kiss.

“What about your clothes?” Jim asked as he

fol owed Tychus, deliberately not looking at anything

but the other man’s face.

“Ain’t got time!” Tychus shouted. “Daisy turned me

in, the bitch. They’re gonna be here any minute now.”

Tychus’s lack of apparel continued to cause a bit of

a stir as the two bul ed their way through the gambling

hal area to mingled exclamations of irritation, offense,

amusement, and, from some of the female patrons,

appreciation. Tychus almost didn’t bother opening the

back door as he kept going.

“Damn,” Tychus said. “Left my keys in my pocket.”

“Come on, then,” Jim said. “I probably shouldn’t be

driving, but this is an emergency. Sit behind me. But

not too close, okay?”

Tychus laughed. They headed for the new vulture

Raynor had purchased and jumped on. Tychus

grunted a little; the seat was no doubt cold and

uncomfortable. Jim couldn’t help it. He started to

laugh, and once he’d started, he couldn’t stop. As he

gunned the engines and the responsive bike surged

forward despite the extra weight, he could see several

lights approaching Wicked Wayne’s.

“Damn,” Tychus muttered.

“What?”

“Left my smokes in my pocket too.”

Jim laughed, then pointed. “See those lights over

there? That’s Butler and his buddies. They are going

to be so pissed off.”

“Makes me wanna stay just so I can see their

faces.”

They were already several hundred yards away,

fleeing to—

“Uh, Tychus? Where the hel are we going?”

“Away from Butler, capture, and deceitful women,

Jimmy. And that’s real y al we need to know, ain’t it?”

“You know,” Jim said as he turned toward nature’s

stone sculptures that were the badlands, “I reckon it

is.”

Dawn was spectacular as it spread languidly and

in startling shades of color over the badlands. It

looked to Jim, as he stood in the mouth of the cave,

sipping a cup of powdered coffee heated with water

boiled over a campfire, as if someone had poured

pink and gold and lavender over the red stone.

“That’s mighty pretty,” he said.

From the depths of the cave, Tychus gave a grunt.

“Sure is.”

Jim turned from the painting coming to life before

his eyes to glance at his friend. He could see Tychus

only by the light of the glowing ember of a cigar he’d

bummed off Jim.

They had managed to swipe some clothes after

giving Butler the slip, but they fitted Tychus poorly. The

shirt didn’t button across the chest—hel , it was a

good three inches shy of even closing—and already

one of the thighs of the trousers had split. Findlay was

lying on the stone floor, chewing his stogie, eyes

catching its orange gleam. On one side of him was a

sack containing various items they’d stashed here for

just such an emergency: extra smokes, coffee, and a

few credits. On Tychus’s other side was the jukebox

they had stolen from the maglev train. Jim sighed

inwardly as he looked at “her.” One of these days,

they’d need to get her someplace where they could

juice her up. She’d look like a stained-glass window

and sound like a church choir.

Silence. Jim lit a cigar of his own and swirled the

muddy coffee around in the canteen. He took another

swig and grimaced. The fire crackled, burning

cheerful y and adding some warmth to the cold stone

cave.

“This is bucolic, ain’t it, Jimmy?”

“Yep.”

Another silence. Tychus sat up, ripping another

seam, strode to the campfire, and tossed the cigar

butt in.

“I hate bucolic.”