Chapter 7 #3
Usually, he kept his past to himself, but Charrascos knew some of it because she’d read Davidro’s journals.
She’d admitted it when she’d visited him in rehab.
Neither of them knew where they came from, especially since the originals had been written on actual paper and in supposedly uncrackable code.
She’d used selected information from them to flesh out the Faraday Brenner identity, but so far, hadn’t published a word about any of Davidro’s staff, including him. Yet another debt he owed her.
He blew out a noisy breath. “Basic school tanked. No one wanted no-name, no-account Canals kids in class. Once I learned Standard English and illegal-betting math, I jetted.” He shrugged one shoulder.
“Davidro banned me from watching vids. Said they gave me ideas.” He twitched a half smile at her.
“He was right, but forgot to ban books, too. I nearly escaped twice because of stories I read.”
Charrascos’s lips tightened. “I’d like to believe your monstrously warped twist of a former boss got leashed, wrung out, and chained in some Central League hellhole, but I’m a realist. He’s too useful to the CPS.”
A frisson of fear flashed through Renner. The idea that Davidro was still alive and would want Renner back paralyzed him for a moment.
Charrascos stood up and crossed to him, her bare feet soundless on the hard floor. “I’m sorry.” Her expression showed compassion, but no pity. He hated being pitied.
He made himself unclench his fists. “I know he could still be out there. He was nova-class at self-preservation.” He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to soothe the sick feeling in his stomach. “I’m fucked up. You should terminate my contract and get someone who can keep you safe.”
She started to speak, then stopped. Her head tilted a little. “Did you have a name besides Renner?”
“Lots of them.” He briefly crooked a corner of his mouth in wry humor. “I was unwisely going by ‘Sparks’ when Davidro caught me. He used to generate a new ID for me for every assignment, but he started reusing them when he realized how little planetary governments talk to each other. Why?”
“I meant before. When you were a kid.”
Her soft voice and warm eyes drew him. He was suddenly, viscerally aware of her unique electrical signature and the compelling warmth of her. His body stirred at the idea of being touched. Of touching her.
He stood his ground but crossed his arms and slid his hands under his armpits.
“I grew up on the streets. No family. My earliest memories are of hiding and always being cold. I was small and fast, so a local enforcer hired me as a runner. He had a weird accent, not Ridderth street, and pronounced it ‘renner.’”
She nodded. “He gave you a purpose.” Her hand twitched toward him, but then she frowned and backed up. “Damnit, I keep having to apologize to you tonight.” She started to turn away, then stopped. “You came up to tell me something?”
He had no idea what she was feeling guilty about or what was going on in her head.
Hell, he had enough trouble figuring out what was going on in his own.
“Yeah, the martial arts studio where I go said they’ll take you, as long as you don’t bring an entourage.
We can go to the open session tomorrow afternoon at fourteen hundred, if it fits your schedule. ”
She twitched a smile. “Entourage?”
“I guess they think anyone with a galactic fame quotient has an entourage. Like your boss Tapio does.” He frowned. She should have a security squad, not just one undereducated fugitive who couldn’t afford to use his only talent to protect her.
She snorted derisively. “You can get a Q-rating for a sewer slug if you pay the fee. Let me check my calendar.” She picked up her pink-rimmed tablet.
“We can leave the office after my meeting with Devanesh to review personal security candidates for me. She claims she’s not a minder, but I’d swear she has a unique talent to piss everyone off.
I’ll probably need the exercise to let off some steam after that. ” She marked a block in her calendar.
He thought of a question he should have asked earlier. “Are you a minder?”
Her expression blanked, and she took a longer time answering than he’d have predicted. “Not according to both rounds of CPS testing, or any official bio, but yes, I’m a filer and a finder.” Her shoulders tightened slightly. “Does it matter?”
He shrugged. “Not to me.”
Stepping back and turning, he made himself leave her office and go down to his own room.
He’d mistakenly thought himself immune to her ability to cajole confidences out of people. Even though she’d only visited the rehab center every ten-day or so while he was recovering, she’d heard the life story of every medic, therapist, and admin who’d been involved in his treatment.
She hadn’t turned that skill on him until tonight.
He’d never told anyone the origin of his name. Not even Davidro, back in the early days when Renner had half-believed the man was the legendary Andromeda Star King, plucking poor orphan kids off the streets because they were his long-lost family.
Renner started a series of fast, lift-off pushups to make himself tired enough to sleep without dreams. He would have to set a firm policy against talking to her about non-business subjects.
Otherwise, he might do something stupid.
Such as tell her about the other ping he’d received, the one that invited “Chalio” to an unexpectedly early meeting in four days about hitting the CPS where it hurt the most.