Fallen Star (13 page)

“Always. I’ve had to refer some of my
regulars to the other artists to make time for your men, but I’ve
stuck to our agreement.” Roxie had encountered Sevrin for the first
time nine weeks before. The enigmatic woman strolled into the shop
and offered Roxie a small fortune if she would make herself
available exclusively to Sevrin’s “boys”. Instead, Roxie had agreed
to make them top priority if she was allowed to work her other
clients in as time permitted. Sevrin had decreased the amount of
the retainer—which was still more than Roxie usually made in a
quarter—and the deal was struck. Then came the parade of
musclebound men. Sevrin either trained bodybuilders or she ran some
sort of private army. Roxie’s money was on the latter. To be more
specific, she was convinced Sevrin’s boys were foreign mercenaries
and she’d been tempted more than once to notify Homeland
Security.

“I’d like to renegotiate our deal.”

Dread dropped like a brick into the pit of
Roxie’s stomach. Despite the strangeness of it all, her deal with
Sevrin had been the best thing to happen to her since the TV
competition. “Have I disappointed you in some way?” She cringed.
That made her sound like a mealy-mouthed servant. “Your men have
never waited on another client and they have each seemed pleased
with my work.”

“You were a novelty. They were thrilled just
to be alone with an attractive female, but the novelty has worn
off.”

What the hell was she talking about? Why
would full-grown, extremely well-developed, men find being alone
with a woman novel? Rather than admit her confusion, she remained
silent and waited for Sevrin to elaborate.

“I expected this obsession with tattoos to
wear off as well, but some of them seem determined to cover their
entire bodies in ink.”

They need the pain
. Roxie kept the
observation to herself as well. Most people experienced a rush of
endorphins when they went under the needle. It could be oddly
relaxing, exhilarating, even arousing. With Sevrin’s men it was
like a drug. They felt it faster and more intensely than anyone
Roxie had ever seen before. It was as if they were wired, or had
been conditioned, to process pain as pleasure. And it happened with
each and every one of them.

“If they’re interest is still strong, I’m
not sure I understand the problem.” She chose her words carefully.
She’d yet to see it happen, but she suspected that Sevrin could
strike like a riled cobra, fast and deadly.

Sevrin stared at her silently for a tense
moment. Roxie held her gaze, refusing to cower, yet trying to
appear respectful. She needed this arrangement. Sevrin had provided
a more lucrative revenue stream than Roxie ever dreamed and she
intended to enjoy the windfall as long as possible. Commercial
space anywhere on the Strip was far beyond her means, which limited
her clientele to locals and the rare tourist who cared enough to
seek her out.

“Who said there was a problem?” Sevrin
smiled, but her brown eyes remained flat and lifeless.

This wasn’t the first time Roxie had
wondered if Sevrin was wearing colored contacts. Even the most
realistic ones muted a person’s ability to emote. But if she was
wearing contacts, why choose such an ordinary shade of brown?

Shaking away the useless speculation, Roxie
allowed herself to relax. “If there isn’t a problem, why does our
agreement need to be changed?”

“There are other
services
I wish to
arrange.”

Roxi glared, no longer caring if she lost
her most important client. “I don’t turn tricks for anyone. Never
have. Never will.”

Another cold, calculating smile parted
Sevrin’s lips. “And I wasn’t asking you to spread your thighs.
Relax. This is simple and it pays extremely well.”

She moved behind the counter, needing some
sort of barrier between her and her unsettling guest. “I’m
listening.”

“You’re like a bartender. People trust you,
like you. Talk to you.”

“I’d love to take your money, but none of
your men have said anything important to or in front of me.”

“How do you know?” She paused, allowing the
question to resonate. “Do you speak our language?”

She wasn’t even sure what their language
was. It had fascinated her ever since the first man switched to the
guttural dialect. She’d listened to language samples on the
internet, determined to identify theirs and failed. She’d never
heard anything like it. “You know I don’t.”

“And so do they, which is why they speak
freely in front of you.”

“I tried to learn Spanish a few years ago.”
She shook her head, remembering the frustration and her utter lack
of aptitude. “I suck at it.”

“My country has pioneered learning
technology that isn’t as yet approved by your government.” She
smoothed down her narrow skirt then moved closer to the counter.
“That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”

If she were in negotiations with the US
government, wouldn’t she be in Washington, DC? Suspicion urged
Roxie back, but curiosity held her steady.

“I know what you’re thinking. National
negotiations don’t take place in Las Vegas. But you’re wrong.
Influential government officials agreed to meet me here because we
don’t want the media finding out about the technology until we’re
ready for an official announcement.”

That more or less made sense, but it also
flooded Roxie’s mind with questions. “Where are you from? Every
time I’ve asked, you or your men, you dodge the question.”

“Korzakistan. It’s a tiny country in Eastern
Europe, doesn’t even appear on most maps. But it has always been
politically neutral, which is why so many scientists sought asylum
there.”

“Then you speak Russian?” Roxie was by no
means a linguist, but their language hadn’t sounded like Russian to
her.

“We do, but that’s not what they have been
speaking in front of you. When my men become secretive, they revert
to an ancient dialect known only to a select few. It amuses them to
exclude others from their conversation.”

“And you have technology that can teach me
this ancient dialect?”

Sevrin nodded and the overhead lights
accented the subtle blue streaks in her dark hair. “You would be
required to sign a nondisclosure agreement, of course. I can’t have
something you say in passing compromise the negotiations.”

“If the technology works as well as you
claim and I can miraculously understand them, what then?”

“You report back to me daily with a
summation of everything you’ve heard. Obviously, if they realize
you can understand them both our agreements will be
terminated.”

“Obviously,” Roxie grumbled. “Is continuing
our original agreement still an option if I turn you down?”

“Sorry. I need more from you.”

All or nothing. She wasn’t surprised, but
she sure as hell didn’t like it. “How do I know this mysterious
technology won’t scramble my brain? There could be a very good
reason it’s not available in the US.”

“How do you think I learned English? The
technology is perfectly safe.”

Roxi hated being backed into a corner, but
her only option was to walk away. Her first instinct was to tell
Sevrin to go to hell, but she had more than just herself to think
about. Sevrin’s generosity had allowed her to update equipment,
triple the marketing budget, and fund renovations that had only
begun. Her friends were busier than ever, which allowed them to
charge more for their time. All of that would disappear in an
instant if she said no.

“I need to think about it.”

“I’d allow you time if I could. Nazerel is
scheduled this evening and he’s my primary concern.”

Now that made perfect sense. Nazerel
emanated belligerent authority and subtle menace. A clash between
Nazerel and Sevrin would be inevitable. “He comes in all the time.
I’ll just—”

“He’s recently been made aware of some
delicate information. I need to know if I can trust him with what
he’s learned.”

Information might be powerful, but it was
also dangerous. Roxie had watched enough crime dramas to know what
happened to the informant once she knew too much. “I’m really not
comfortable with any of this.”

“Then I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
Sevrin rested her fingertips on the countertop and slowly leaned
in. “You already know more than I’d intended to tell you. You’re
only safe because you’re useful.”

Roxi’s pulse thudded wildly and her ears
began to ring. How had she gotten herself caught up in this mess?
It didn’t matter. As the boss lady said, she was already in too
deep. “All right,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

With obvious reluctance, Odintar lifted
Jillian off his lap and set her on the ottoman. It was probably a
wise precaution. If they remained within touching distance, they
were sure to touch and likely a whole lot more. She’d never been
this attracted to a man she’d just met and couldn’t explain the
fascination now. All she knew was she couldn’t seem to get enough
of Odintar.

“I need to let Lor know what’s going on.” He
sounded hoarse yet breathless.

Her cheeks were hot and her lips tender, but
she’d never felt more desirable. “Cell phones are still not an
option?”

He nodded. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Go on.” She waved him away. “I could use a
minute to catch my breath anyway.”

He rested back in the chair and closed his
eyes, then his features went lax. Before she had time to miss him,
their mental connection buzzed to life. Had he intentionally
activated their link so she could hear the conversation or was it a
side effect of her newly released power? The specifics didn’t
matter, as long as he knew she wasn’t intentionally spying on
him.

She felt Odintar’s telepathic ping
requesting Lor’s presence on the metaphysical plane. Rather than
waste energy on visualizations, they increased the strength of
their shields and communicated spirit to spirit. She found it all
interesting yet daunting. Could she really learn how to do all
these things?

How’s your patient this morning? My mate is
concerned that we’re expecting too much from her after the trauma
of her accident.

Mate? Lor had to mean Tori? Did Tori
consider Lor her “mate”?

Odintar was amused by Lor’s ambiguity. Not
knowing their enemy’s exact capabilities was making them all
paranoid.
Tell your mate not to worry. My patient is remarkably
resilient.

Do you have something specific to report or
are you just checking in?

Translation: cut to the chase, buddy. I’m a
busy man.

Odintar didn’t seem insulted by Lor’s
impatience.
We’ve never been able to pin down the motivation of
the Dirty Dozen.

Beyond flagrant disobedience and lust?

Rebellion might have launched their
campaign, but what kept it going for so long?

Outsmarting the people sent to capture
them.

She didn’t think Lor was being intentionally
cruel, but even after all these years the failure still stung
Odintar. Odintar didn’t like to lose and his showdown with the
Dirty Dozen had been a disaster.
I’m sure that was part of it,
but I now have evidence of Rodyte involvement.

Rodytes,
Lor sneered.
Always the
gods damn Rodytes.
His tone was calmer as he asked,
What
evidence?

My patient is filled with elemental magic.
There is no way her father was Ontarian.

How does that implicate Rodymia? Most
elemental magic flows from Bilarri.

True, but Lord Drakkin discovered a segment
of the Rodyte population that retained the ability to manipulate
magic.

Who the hell was Lord Drakkin? Damn it. She
still had so much to learn.

That’s right. He defused the conflict so
quickly, I’d almost forgotten about it.

I have more reason to keep up with Bilarrian
developments than you do.

Can’t argue with that.
Lor’s amused
chuckle rippled into Odintar’s mind then slid across their
connection. It was all so strange.
Still, the odds point to
Bilarri not Rodymia.

We both know Rodymia had far more to gain by
involving themselves with the Dirty Dozen than anyone on Bilarri.
We know for a fact Rodymia is sponsoring the Shadow Assassins and
we have strong indications that the two situations are linked.

Get me a sample of your patient’s DNA and
I’ll prove or disprove your hypothesis.

Soon.

A burst of possessiveness propelled Jillian
back into the present. There was no denying that Odintar thought of
her as his, but the impulse felt protective rather than malicious.
She’d have to rid him of the idea sooner or later. But first she
had to decide what she wanted out of their relationship.
Relationship? She fought back a laugh. When had they entered into a
relationship? He was her doctor turned teacher and they had the
hots for each other. No one would define that as a
relationship.

He pinched off the connection and took a
deep breath. She couldn’t sense him anymore.

“That was fast.” Jillian quickly formed a
smile as he opened his eyes. Should she tell him she’d heard his
exchange with Lor and that she’d been able to sense his emotions?
He already had all sorts of advantages over her. She decided to
hold on to this one for a while. Not that it was much of an
advantage unless the link spontaneously activated again.

“Didn’t want to give you time to cause
trouble.”

“Me?” She chuckled. “Never. Angie’s the one
who runs headfirst into danger.”

“So we noticed. Blayne will have his hands
full just protecting her from herself.”

Jillian stood and moved away, but her gaze
lingered on him. “What now? Is Bilarrian magic controlled
differently than Ontarian?”

“Ontarian magic requires discipline and
focus. Bilarrian magic accesses the powers of nature. It’s raw,
instinctual. It’s about releasing control and letting your
elemental nature take over. Generally a Bilarrian is more attune to
the element of his or her ancestral region. Your abilities appear
to flow from Air, so your father’s people once lived somewhere in
the San Adrin deserts.”