Runner: The Fringe, Book 3 (3 page)

He left without a word.

Disappointed but not surprised, she continued to eat, savoring each bite of her meal. For all she knew, it could be her last. She didn’t think Roberts would care if her jailer fed her or not. After she finished every last morsel and ran her finger around the edges of the five compartments, she washed her fork and tray in the small bathroom sink, then slid them under her cell door.

“A criminal would have tried to keep the fork.”

Startled, she glanced around. A smooth black lump on the ceiling in the center of the hallway between the six cells had to be the com unit. Lifting her face, she addressed the com as if Foster stood in front of her.

“I considered it. However, your finger is infected, not your brain. You would know if I didn’t return the fork.” She turned away, washing her face and hands in the sink. “I sincerely doubt I could free myself with a fork. You could perhaps turn it into a deadly weapon. I could not. The only use for a fork I know of is to eat with it.” She paused. “Oh, yes, and to use it to subdue a particularly tight knot.”

With a seductive beat, he said, “I could watch you if you took a shower.”

The bass of his voice made the entire ship throb, causing vibrations to run up her body and stroke the sensitive spots with a curious heat. The thought of him watching her was not as unappealing as it should have been.

Dismissing the notion, she finished washing up. “Your reputation is such I would
expect
you to watch.” Drying herself with a small cloth, she turned and faced the com. “I find, given the current scope of my life, you watching me bathe is the very least of my concerns. You and your lecherous nature are not my biggest worry. Roberts is. With a few choice words and the gentle twisting of circumstance, my lifetime of good works is forever tarnished. I am hunted for a crime I did not commit.”

“All I care about is my contract.” His low voice boomed, rumbling up her body in pleasurable waves.

“Fine. You don’t believe me or don’t care. I am a hapless pawn, but you are a willing rook, played by a foul hand.” Carefully folding the washcloth so it would drip-dry over the sink edge, she turned her back on the com. “You are a glorified meatbag. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I am
not
a meatbag.”

Dark and furious, his voice blasted her ears. Every speaker on his ship echoed his anger at being called a mindless mercenary. She didn’t need to see his face to know she’d touched a nerve.

“I am one of six triple-platinum Runners on the Fringe. Do you know what that means?”

Pushing down her fear, she tidied her cell. “I know who you are. I know every contract you’ve ever signed you’ve delivered on.” Nodding at the com unit between the cells, she made up her bunk. “You will deliver me to Roberts. Of that, I have no doubt. So that means I must worry myself over Roberts, not you.” She shook her head as she carefully sat on her newly made bed. “I’ve hurt none, survived many. I will survive you.”

“You won’t survive Roberts.” His voice held no emotion at all.

“That remains to be seen. The point is, I will survive you. Roberts wants me alive.” Jynx stared up at the com. “Correct?”

He didn’t answer.

Fear began somewhere in the pit of her belly and worked out along her limbs. She shouldn’t have deliberately antagonized him by calling him a meatbag. Not when he had a formidable reputation to live up to. Especially not when he had total control over her.

“Mr. Nash?”

Resounding silence was her only answer.

Chapter Four

Foster crossed his arms as he glared at Jynx over the audvid. True enough, Roberts wanted her alive, but she seemed a little too smug with the information, so let her worry.

She’d removed the colored contacts, and her widened eyes were a startling shade of violet, made more so by the lilac shade of her clinging dress. He’d never seen eyes that color. No wonder she’d covered them up with lenses. Man, woman or child would remember someone with eyes that unique.

“Fine,” she said softly. She didn’t seem to be looking for a way out any longer but for something to do. After a while, she closed her eyes. She smiled, frowned, drew her eyebrows up then down, oblivious to the fact he watched her.

After several long moments, he asked, “What are you doing?”

Rather than startling at his sudden intrusion into her privacy, she answered, “I’m remembering,” as if she’d
known
he was watching her.

“Remembering what?” Despite his resolve not to get to know her, he had to ask. She didn’t behave like any package he’d ever delivered.

“All the times in my life. The people. Everything I’ve accomplished. Mistakes I’ve made. Things I wish I’d done.”

“Why?”

“What else is there for me to do?”

He watched her for a bit longer, then turned his attention to the console. Not much on the scanners to worry about. Even Berserkers would think twice about attacking him. He and his ship were too dangerous to tangle with. The vicious pirates would attempt to commandeer his ship only if they were in dire straits. No two ways about it, they would lose.

In the twenty years he’d been a Runner, he’d been attacked three times, but not once since he’d acquired and upgraded the
Damn You
. His ship had a rep almost as bad as his. The sleek, shark-like shape was distinctive.

Foster bought the ship six years ago from Michael “Overlord” Parker. She’d been a slaver ship back then and didn’t have much in the way of electronics, but she was fast. Over the years, Foster added every conceivable gleep to her array. Taking up the
Damn You
was the first of many deals he’d made with the notorious Michael “Overlord” Parker. One of those arrangements was responsible for his injured finger.

Darting his gaze back to the cell audvid, he found Jynx still sitting quietly on her bunk with her eyes closed. Whatever she thought of made her laugh, wince, then touch the tiny scar over her right eye. What had caused that almost imperceptible flaw in her perfect skin, and why hadn’t she fixed it? Couple hundred credits and thirty minutes and
poof
! it’d be history.

He couldn’t believe she sat so peacefully. She should be terrified out of her mind. In all his years as a bounty hunter, he’d never had a package behave like she did. Calm. Accepting. Speaking in her cultured voice. Most prisoners rattled the bars, yelled, screamed and tried every trick in the book to escape, but not Jynx Brennan.

He considered her request to be moved to the bigger cell. He saw no edge but that she would be more comfortable. And he could watch her shower. She didn’t seem to care if he did. Or did she think she could sway him with her body?

Before refusing to apprehend women because of the inherent dangers in doing so, he’d handled plenty of beauties who’d tried the same trick, preening and pouting and seductively showing him enticing bits of flesh. All in the hopes of luring him into letting them go. Back then, keeping the little brain in line had been next to impossible, hence his no-female policy. But he was older and wiser now. Did Jynx really think he’d fall for such a pathetic ploy?

“Time to find out.”

“Here’s the deal, Sweets.”

Jynx opened her eyes and turned to find Foster standing at the door of her cell with two sets of cuffs. He wore tight faded jeans, an even tighter green motton T-shirt, battered tennis shoes, and his thick black weapon-riddled leather belt, slung low, outlining his swaggering hips.

“Stand. Press your back against the bars. I’ll cuff your wrists and ankles.” His cold voice frosted her ears while causing a curious heat to coil in her belly. “Once I secure you, I’ll enter your cell, pick you up, then move you to the other cell. You so much as blink funny, and I’ll throw you on the floor, then shoot you. Got it?”

“I’m not going to cause you any trouble.” Jynx stood and backed up to the bars.

He slapped the cuffs to her wrists and ankles, then entered her cell.

As she stood fully bound, he looked at her for a long time.

With her arms behind her back, she inadvertently thrust her breasts out, drawing his gaze to her chest. His intense stare made her acutely aware of her vulnerability. If he tossed her on the bed to have his wicked way with her, she couldn’t do anything to stop him. Even if she weren’t cuffed.

His azure gaze fell to the short chain that bound her ankles. He bit his lip and sighed hard, like he wanted to chew his way through the restraints in order to make his way to the juncture of her thighs.

“Mr. Nash?”

He scowled and shook his head, tossing that seductive fringe of bangs out of his eyes. Without a word, he scooped her up onto his shoulder and carted her down the hall.

She made sure she didn’t move. She didn’t want to do anything he would take as threatening, or inviting, for that matter. After he set her on her feet against the inside bars of the new cage, he looked at her with that odd, probing gaze.

Strange. She didn’t find his attention frightening, only curious. No man had ever looked at her quite like that. Hot and dirty and filled with a thousand erotic punishments. Shame on her that she felt an answering welcome, as if she wanted to throw herself upon his mercy. Whatever he decided to do to her, she would willingly let him.

He broke the spell with a shake of his head. Turning sharply, he exited, clanging the door shut behind him. He walked off without a word and without releasing her.

She thought perhaps he tested her, so she stood with her back pressed to the bars. While she waited, she couldn’t help but think of what he could do to her, even with her arms and legs bound. She’d just gotten to what he could do if he placed her on her knees, her looking up the long, imposing length of his body, when he returned with an armful of items.

He unlocked the door, dumped them on the bed, exited, and clanged the door shut. He uncuffed her wrists and ankles, his fingertips touching her in the most fleeting way, which only exacerbated her lusty thoughts.

Shaking off the tingles from her captivity, she found a towel, soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, a packet of laundry soap, a pair of socks and a huge flannel robe. He’d been far more generous than she’d thought he would be. The pile of small luxuries almost brought tears to her eyes.

“Thank you.” She turned toward him.

He stood tall as he dropped his voice. “Now you do something for me.”

“Of course, let me see your—”

“Not that.”

His gaze swept her body.

She took an involuntary step back.

“Take off your shoes.”

Puzzled, she glanced down at her white sandals. They’d been pretty when she’d put them on, but now they were almost gray with dirt, along with her feet. “Why do you want my shoes?”

“Take them off and hand them to me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He only glanced at her briefly, then moved to draw his weapon. “You’re making me all kinds of nervous not wanting to hand them over.” His hand rested on the butt of his gun. He could draw the firearm and shoot her long before she could blink.

More confused than afraid, she sat on the bunk and slipped her decimated sandals off her grungy feet. “Here.” She tossed them out of her cell.

He picked them up and inspected them critically.

Did he think she could somehow craft them into a weapon? Honestly, the man thought her some kind of master criminal. The only thing she knew to do with her sandals was to wear them. On her feet. Right where they belonged.

Seemingly satisfied about her shoes, he riveted his gaze on her once again. “One last thing. I need your bra.”

She uttered a nervous laugh. “Your pectoral muscles are large and well defined but not really big enough to need the constraints of my—”

“Take your bra off and hand it over.” He lowered his hand to the cell keys. “Or I’ll come in there and get it myself.”

“You’re serious.” She stood from the bunk and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it.”

Fumbling at the zipper down her back, she pulled the tab down to her waist, unhooked her bra and slipped the straps off, yanking her bra out the armhole. Once she’d zipped up and settled her dress into place, she stepped to the door of her cell. “This is absurd. What horrible crime could I commit with a lacy white bra?”

He plucked the bundle from her hand without a word. She noticed his gaze was riveted on her chest. When she looked down, she rolled her eyes. Her nipples showed clearly through the thin lilac fabric. As her nipples tightened, his eyes widened.

“Seeking cheap thrills, Mr. Nash?”

He drew his gaze to her eyes and bit his lower lip. “I wouldn’t say cheap.” He rolled the word around his mouth, tasting the tone of it like a rich candy. “A lady like you isn’t cheap. I’m not looking for a thrill, either.”

He plucked a knife from his belt, cut two small slashes in her bra, removed the flexible plastic underwires, then tossed the bundle of white lace into her cell. “I won’t complain if you choose not to wear it.”

“Are you finished?” She plucked her bra off the floor. Realizing she couldn’t put the garment back on the same way she’d taken it off, she tossed the scrap of white lace to the bunk, and crossed her arms protectively over her still-pointed breasts. “I’d like to take a shower and wash my clothes.”

“Go ahead.” He leaned casually against the bars.

She stood nonplussed for a moment. “You’re going to stand right there and watch me?” Somehow, she thought if he did watch, he would do so clandestinely via the com.

“Sure,” he said, grinning as he nodded, his leer turning his handsome face sinister.

“Like an IWOG boy glued to the Tasher on a lonely Friday night?” She couldn’t believe a legendary Fringe player could be so juvenile. Refusing to be intimidated, she met his gaze, hoping against hope he would back off first.

“Nothing else to do at the moment.” He flipped his bangs out of his eyes and hitched his thumb to the belt loop above his gun. “Go ahead, Sweets. Take a shower.”

Dismissing him by giving him her back, she asked, “You don’t see me, do you?” She placed the shampoo and soap in the shower. “You see a blonde woman with large breasts, and you can’t wait to see me take off this filthy dress and shower. How pathetic.” Hands on hips, she glared at him through the bars. “You don’t have to see me as even human if you reduce me to a sexual object.”