CHAPTER 2
“So what do you two
think?”
If I go, they’re
going with me. That much is a given.
Dina grimaces and
pushes to her feet. She’s a stocky woman who could kick my ass with
one hand tied behind her back, but luckily, she doesn’t want to
anymore. I don’t think.
“I think it’s a
sucker’s job.” Then she grins. “And we’re just the suckers to do
it. How bad could it be?”
I stare at her. “Why
do you have to say shit like that? Seriously. Why?”
“Because it makes you
nervous?”
“Big deal,” I mutter.
“Everything makes me nervous. It’s a wonder I haven’t developed a
tic.”
“You have,” March
puts in, ever helpful. “Your left eye sort of—”
“Thanks, baby. You’re
a gem.”
He smirks, the
expression that used to make me want to slap him. Now it makes me
want to tie him up and do things to him until he says he’s
sorry.
“We should check with
the Chancellor’s assistant. I’m sure they have an itinerary for
us,” he adds.
I shrug. “We have
twenty-four hours. After all this, they owe us some rec
time.”
For once Dina agrees
with me. “Do they ever. This place is a dump.” She dismisses the
sterile conference room with four blank bisque walls with a
contemptuous gesture. “Isn’t there anything to do here?”
Thinking back to my
training days, I try to remember. “Not by Gehenna or even Venice
Minor standards. But there are a few good bars in Wickville over on
the west side. At least there used to be. Place called Quincy’s had
a trio that played folkazz, good stuff. But remember, I’ve been
gone a long time—”
I find myself talking
to her back. If I know her at all, she’ll catch a lift over to
where she’s likely to find a party and leave the details up to us.
Our ship’s mechanic lives for a good time and makes no bones about
it.
Oddly, I respect her
for that. Dina doesn’t dwell on everything she’s lost. The woman
surpasses me in that regard, but she doesn’t brood over it. Doesn’t
use it like a weapon to make other people feel sorry for
her.
Without a word, March
pulls me into his arms. I hope nobody else needs the conference
room because it doesn’t feel like he’s letting go anytime soon. He
rests his cheek against the top of my stubbly head. Just after we
landed on New Terra—before the bounty hunter snatched me—my
crewmates decided I’d be less recognizable without my hair. I still
can’t believe they shaved my head for nothing.
March tightens his
arms around me, and I luxuriate in his heat. This separation has
been harder on him than on me because first he thought I was dead,
and then before he could make the mental adjustment, they
quarantined us to prepare for our testimonies.
A shudder runs
through him. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll wake up and you won’t be
here.”
Part of me—the part
that’s still raw over losing Kai— wants to back away from such
unabashed need. I’m afraid I can’t handle it, that I’ll hurt him
again like I did on Gehenna. Part of me needs him every bit as
much, though. I’m afraid of that, too. I wasn’t always such a
contrary bundle of fears. That’s new.
I like the person I
am now, though. Jax the nav-star didn’t care for anyone but Kai,
certainly didn’t care about the state of the universe or acting in
the interest of the greater good. I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a
hero like March, but I want to try. Not for the fame and glory but
because I want to leave something behind that matters more than the
number of jumps I made. I want things to be better because of me.
He lifts his head, and his gaze meets mine.
“I’m not going
anywhere,” I say aloud, though it isn’t a surety I can truly offer.
Life is precarious, and it turns in a flash. As if he knows this,
his lips drift over mine, delicately possessive. His kiss sparks a
chemical reaction, endorphins careening wildly.
Lifting his head,
March exhales slowly. “You want to—”
A throat clears
behind us. “We have a meeting scheduled,” someone says in the
polite tone that conceals amusement.
We break apart like
kids caught necking on the front doorstep. I smile over that as we
hurry out of 7-J. Once we get some distance down the hall, I pause
and gaze up at him. He’s no prettier than when I first laid eyes on
him. March still looks mean as a black-tailed rattler, but as
always, I focus on his dark, gold-flecked eyes fringed in those
ridiculously luxurious lashes.
It’s just as well he
has such a hard-hewn face. With those eyes, he’d just be too pretty
if he were anywhere close to handsome. Besides, I look like a war
refugee these days, scrawny, scarred, and bald as an egg, so I
can’t have some beautiful man outshining me.
“Do I want to . . .
?” I arch a brow at him, as if I don’t know perfectly well what
he’s going to suggest.
He grins. “Go to
Wickville and listen to some folkazz.”
Okay, he got me. He’s
the mind reader, not me, which is just as well. I’d be dangerous if
I could do what March does. Hell, I’m dangerous anyway.
I shake my head. “Not
really. Not in the mood.”
We start walking
again, meandering along the corridor to the lift. “You want to
bounce a message to Lachion? Double-check what Tarn told
us?”
I nod. “We should try
to find an independent relay computer, too. I don’t trust station
terminals.”
March doesn’t argue
as we step into the tube. A whooshing sound sends us to our floor,
and as we get out, he asks, “You sure this isn’t more paranoia,
Jax?”
He has a point. My
instincts are a mess. I’m prone to flipping out for no reason after
the Psychs finished tinkering with my brain.
“I don’t know. But
people who want something from you never tell the whole truth, so I
need to check his story. See what Keri says. I don’t want to have
traded one corrupt master for another.”
“Absolute power
corrupts absolutely.”
I stop outside my
quarters. “Are you saying all this was for nothing? The
Conglomerate will eventually be as thoroughly raddled with dirty
politics, kickbacks, suppression of information, and borderline
tyranny as the Corp?”
He hesitates as if
weighing his words. “It’s change. Who knows exactly what’s in
store? Right now everything’s in a state of upheaval. Historians
will draw the conclusions, not me.”
“Heh. With my luck,
I’ll be known as the one who ended an era of peace and prosperity,
huh?”
“Maybe, but you’ll be
dead, and you won’t care. Now go bundle up, and I’ll do the same.
Meet you back here?”
I remember we’re in
Ankaraj, which means snow, and the wind tears through you like a
steel hook. “Nah, just wait for me downstairs.”
One of these days,
I’m going to get ready faster than he does. But not today. By the
time I find an overcoat and layer my clothing to withstand the
winter chill, I find him lounging in the foyer.
He takes in the navy
s-wool coat with hood and muffler paired with clunky brown boots.
To think I used to be considered one of the best-dressed women in
the tier worlds— in fact, I made the list twice. I sigh a little.
On the plus side, I gained ten kilos in clothing, and the way I
look now, that’s a good thing.
“Cute,” he
pronounces.
I wish he’d shot me.
“Bastard.”
First order of
business is to find a non-Corp, non-Conglomerate terminal where we
can bounce a message to Keri. That will cost money, so we’ll need
to hit a bank first. Maybe March can cover it, but I need to be
independent. The idea of being dependent on anyone, for anything,
makes me feel odd and queasy.
That means checking
on the status of my personal accounts, which Simon, the estranged
husband who tried to have me killed, better not have fucked with. I
also need to have a new pay-card issued. Mary only knows the
turmoil of the currency situation. Maybe Corp credits have been
devalued entirely. Shit, I hope not.
Drawing my hood up
around my ears, I head for the door. Stop short.
The woman drawing
back a gorgeous, filmy thermal scarf looks eerily familiar. She
shakes a few flakes of snow from her ink-dark hair, managing to
look graceful and elegant while she does so. Her perfectly painted
mouth rounds into an “O” when she registers me.
“Sirantha?” she
chokes out.
“Mother?”
For March’s sake, I
make the introduction. “This is Ramona Jax, my mother. Mother, this
is March.”
Let them make of each
other what they will.
