Chapter Six
A furious Ruyn exited his unit and waited in the hall for his bodyguard. She reminded him of something unpleasant stuck to the sole of his shoe. He had to find a way to scrape her off.
As if on cue, she emerged from an adjacent unit within seconds.
Wearing sensible shoes, gray pants, and a sky-blue tunic that matched her eyes, she looked put together and chipper, which further irritated him.
He had some choice words for Michaela Perine—but not in the hall where they could be overheard.
“Good morning! What’s on the agenda today?” she chirped brightly.
Getting rid of you. “Office.” He limped for the booster. He’d skip the gym this morning; he’d gotten a pretty good workout last night. And frankly, he didn’t want her standing there watching him.
As always, his leg bothered him a lot in the morning, and especially so today. Normally, it loosened up by midday, relieving some of the pain and stiffness. Then, by evening, when he tired, it got uncomfortable again.
“How’d you sleep?” she asked.
“Fine.” Poorly. His leg had been killing him, the Michaela problem had weighed on his mind, and, after months of living here, he still wondered who the phuk had chosen the beds. A blanket on rocky ground would have been more comfortable.
He’d awakened in a bad mood and then made his discovery.
“Maybe we should call a hovercar,” she suggested when they stepped onto the street.
Why? Because he was obviously in pain? He’d get to the office on foot if it was the last thing he did. Show no weakness. She’d seen more than enough.
“I watched the drone footage last night,” she said quietly.
She had that? He hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t known he could get a copy or even thought to ask for it. Why watch a vid when he’d lived through the experience with the special effects of shattering pain and the conviction he would die? “A little light entertainment?”
“Horrifying.”
Humiliating for him that she’d seen him being beaten. Unable to defend himself. Weak. Helpless.
Her opinion shouldn’t matter. She was a human temp hire who’d serve out her contract and then go home where she belonged. He’d never have to set eyes on her again. With any luck, the day would come sooner rather than later.
“There were four of them,” she said.
“You can count.”
“You killed one of them.”
“Yes.”
“That’s…impressive isn’t the right word.”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is futile.” The first guy had come at him, and he’d snapped his neck. But then the other three had attacked at once.
“You’re lucky to be alive.”
Some days, it didn’t feel like it.
“You were targeted.”
“That’s Korsan’s theory.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t recognize the men. Nobody followed me from the convention center. I would have noticed. No one was in the alley when I entered. I’m vigilant and observant—although in light of what happened, you may not think so.”
She was vigilant, too. Head high, arms free, posture erect, she scanned the street, alert blue eyes assessing.
“The authorities believe the attack was random. They basically said if I had been targeted, the assailants would have done a better job.” He laughed humorlessly. They’d done a pretty thorough job in his opinion.
“I think it was meant to look random,” she said.
“The end result is the same.”
“No, it’s not. If you were randomly selected, it’s over. But if you were the premeditated target, they’ll seek to finish the job.”
“You’re a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”
“You must have considered that.”
It kept him up at night. Along with the pain and the phukking bed. Maybe he should try sleeping on the floor.
“Where do you think the men came from?” Her question sounded thoughtful, serious, not tinged with skepticism the way the authorities had asked it. “The men weren’t there, and then they were,” he’d explained in a painkiller-induced haze after the attack.
“What do you mean?” she said, and he realized he’d spoken aloud.
“They just appeared.”
“Like out of nowhere?”
“That’s what it seemed like.”
“All four at the same time?”
“One, at first. After I killed him, three more showed up. I guess they decided they needed reinforcements.”
“Huh.” To her credit, she didn’t state the conclusion everyone else had reached—he’d failed to notice he was being followed, or the men had already been in the alley when he entered.
“Do you always cut through the alley?”
“No. I have no reason to go that way.”
“So, why did you?”
“I was living with Korsan at the time, and it was the shortest route. Speaking to the charity was a special one-time event.”
They’d reached the office. Employees entering the building glanced their way. At least this time, he sensed they were eying Michaela and not his scars or the way he hobbled like a cripple. A few company employees were aware of the attack, but others only knew he’d been in an “accident.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He snorted. “Why ask permission now?”
“What exactly do you do for the company?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“He said you were an analyst. What do you analyze?”
“Business opportunities.” Korsan Enterprises was a holding company with a controlling interest in a half dozen subsidiaries, including a galactic real-estate conglomerate, a chain of nightclubs, hotels, and an interplanetary travel agency.
They even had a small stake in GAL Friday.
“I evaluate companies for future investment and evaluate the profitability of existing subsidiaries.”
“You have a background in that?”
“You’re wondering if I’m a pity hire.”
“I didn’t say that!” Her eyes flashed.
“For the record—I am a pity hire. But I’m also good with numbers.” He’d worked as a junior analyst temporarily while waiting to get accepted into the space force. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Seemed like someone else’s life, actually.
“You’re tough and smart,” she said.
“That sounds like a compliment.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Let’s go inside. We need to talk.”
* * * *
“Sit.” He pointed to a guest chair and took his place behind the desk, masking his relief at how much he’d needed to sit down.
He rocked in his chair and stared at her, not saying anything. She held his gaze, blue eyes deceptively guileless. She perched on the edge of her seat, leaning forward as if he had her full attention, but he guessed if she sat all the way back, her feet wouldn’t touch the floor.
No one would suspect her of being his bodyguard. It was an ingenious misdirect, whether intentional on his brother’s part or not. People would assume she was his administrative assistant, or that he was phukking her, or both.
She did have defense training, and she’d impressed him with her perceptive analysis of the attack.
After their conversation on the way to the office, despite his ire, he’d reconsidered his intention to get rid of her.
She might be worth keeping around for a while—provided they got a few things straight.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.
“No.” She shrugged.
“Think about it.”
“Can’t think of anything.”
From his pocket, he withdrew the spy devices and tossed them across his desk like a handful of gaming cubes. “I believe these belong to you.”
She didn’t even blink. “What makes you think those are mine?”
“If they’re not, we have an even bigger problem than we thought.”
She hesitated then admitted, “They’re mine. I can explain—”
“No explanation can justify bugging my apartment and violating my privacy.”
“I have to be sure you’re safe when I can’t see you!”
“Let’s be clear. My brother hired you, but you work for me.
You report to me, you answer to me, you follow my rules.
I may not be able to fire you, but I can have you sacked.
One call to GAL Friday telling them how you bugged my apartment without my consent—that’s illegal on Luturna, by the way—and they’ll yank you back to Earth. Is that understood?”
“Does that mean you’re willing to work with me?”