Space Wrangler (25 page)

“Okay, okay. We'll do it at your place. At twelve-thirty sharp. You're such a trouper,” he added admiringly. “What would I do without you?”

Alexia grinned, imagining how annoyed she'd be under other circumstances. Instead, she willingly joined the admiration, asking Gabby with a wistful smile, “Are you sure you can pull this off in time? I want everything perfect for the holovid. For personal reasons. But I feel bad imposing on you this way.”

“Just get some rest. Put a freez-pak on that broken cheek. And leave the rest to me. I'm just so honored you're including me.” She hugged Alexia effusively, whispering, “Zeke will know what to do. And if he doesn't show, we'll figure something else out. I promise.”

Plotting with Gabby had almost been fun, and had definitely given Alexia hope. But the sight of Belker in the hallway reminded her this wasn't a game. The man reeked of barely repressed rage and lust, and far from being an outcast for it, he carried laser pistols and could arrest folks at will.

Lana and Jamie had told stories about this particular ex-mercenary, noting that he had pronounced them too “tame and vanilla” for his tastes, thank God. Not that TJ would have required them to spend time with a known sadist. There were a couple of “specialists” among the bio-girls who claimed to enjoy a certain amount of rough stuff, as long as it didn't get
too
rough, and as long as safe words were strictly enforced. Even then, TJ's rules required that any “unorthodox” sessions be video-recorded, supposedly for the sake of the male patron as well as the bio-girl. But in the case of Belker and his two swaggering buddies, Red and Sampson, everyone knew the system only functioned because of TJ's threat that he would convict the enforcers of mayhem—or worse—and permanently deport them, complete with criminal records that would make them pariahs on Earth, if they ever crossed a bio-girl's line.

And now here was Belker, his shark eyes peering from his flat, leathery face as he rode the elevator with Alexia and TJ toward TJ's penthouse. The Sea-Mont CEO didn't seem to mind the enforcer's attitude. Maybe he even welcomed it, knowing it would keep his blushing bride in line. Unnerved, she grabbed her mesh bag as soon as they entered the residence, then rushed to the living room, where she dug out the bottle of pain pills.

A plan was forming in her mind. She would use another freez-pak for the pain throbbing through her entire face, but would also break off a piece of a pain pill for herself to determine how strong the dosage was. If Zeke Angelus didn't show up, she might need to drug TJ, wait for him to doze off, then clobber Belker with the fireplace poker. Then she'd grab his pistol and run for her life, hoping against hope that somewhere on this big, friendly platform, someone would have the guts to assist her. Or if not, she'd take David Seaton hostage and demand he call Rick back from Sector Fourteen.

And then what? It would take days for the wrangler to return. She'd have to sleep sometime, and then she'd be overpowered, brutalized and blown up in the sinkhole.

Captain Angelus will show up
, she promised herself nervously as she swallowed the quarter pill.
He's nuts about Gabby. He breaks rules for breakfast. And he's fearless.

Rick was fearless too, but the idea of involving him had a huge downside. He had lost so many people in his life, and clearly felt guilty about it. If Alexia sent for him, and he didn't get back in time, or wasn't able to orchestrate her rescue once he got here?

It would destroy him once and for all.

Depressed, she sat on the sofa and activated the photo array, locating the huge picture of her parents with a tow-headed three-year-old. They looked so happy, and why not? They were in love, they had a wonderful little boy and they were on Earth. Together.

“You should turn that off and get some sleep,” TJ told her in a brusque voice.

She stared at him, brokenhearted, and blurted out, “I don't want to name our son David.”

“I agree. We'll call him Trent, just like we discussed.”

“Really?” She brushed a tear from her eye, grateful for the small crumb of decency, yet angry at herself for feeling gratitude toward her captor. “Thanks, TJ.”

He reached down and pulled her to her feet, then looked into her face. “Your eyes are glassy. Should I call Meg?”

“I took a pain pill, and I guess it made me dopey.”

“That was smart,” he said, nodding. “Take another one right before the ceremony so you don't—well, panic or do something stupid.”

She glanced past him to see Belker watching from the kitchen with amused interest. “Can't we get some privacy?”

TJ turned toward the enforcer. “Get lost.”

Belker chuckled. “She's conning you with those crocodile tears, but suit yourself. I'll be in the outer hall, so just give a shout if she kicks you in the nuts.”

TJ waited until the bully had disappeared, then muttered, “When the baby's born, that guy gets his walking papers. I promise.”

“The baby.” She glanced back at the image of little Trent, standing with his parents. “He's the silver lining in this. For everyone.”

“That's how I see it,” TJ agreed.

She hesitated, not wanting to make him mad, but needing to know how deep his rage went. He still seemed to love the memory of Trent, didn't he? Could she tap into that? Did she dare try?

“Can I ask you something?” she murmured finally.

“Go ahead, but be smart.”

She nodded. “This morning, when you came to Trent's penthouse, you didn't know your father was back. Right?”

“Right.”

“But you already knew about the night I spent with Rick. And you were going to confront me, weren't you? To give me an ultimatum.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me what it was. I know you'd never threaten to murder me in the sinkhole or turn me over to Belker. Those are your father's instincts, not yours. So what were you going to do? Deport me?”

His eyes grew cold. “I was going to offer you a deal. A great deal as it turns out, at least compared to the one you've got now. Marriage in exchange for unlimited access to the sentient.”

“The sentient?” She winced. It seemed like an old dream. A childish fantasy, at least in a sense. She had grown up a lot in the last few weeks. Not that David's appearance had caused all of that. Losing Jamie had been sobering. Seeing the faces of the platform residents, knowing that their dilemmas were so real, so immediate. And if she was completely honest with herself, falling for Rick had changed things too. Given her a different kind of perspective on the future—a future where she could continue to search for her brother but build a new life at the same time.

TJ seemed surprised by her silence. “You've given up on that?”

“No, not at all. But your sentient is so—well, so unimaginative, frankly.”

He chuckled. “So I noticed. But I could have ordered him to be chattier. ‘Brainstorm' as you call it. That would have made you happy, at least for a while. And in the meantime, I figured you'd get pregnant, and you'd be happy about that too. A win-win.”

“It would have been tempting,” she mused, mostly to herself. “And once I got pregnant, you would have sent me back through the sinkhole, right? You wouldn't have allowed our baby to be born here. It's one of the first things you said to me. No families, no children, no babies. Because if we ever lost a child in the sinkhole—”

“I always swore I'd never let that happen. But my thinking on the issue has evolved.” His smile turned nasty. “I'm more Machiavellian than I used to be. Thanks to you.”

“I know I hurt you—”

“
Hurt
me?” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. “You screwed your way through an army of Nobel Prize winners, then topped it off by fucking my most valuable wrangler. But somehow, sex with
me
was a deal breaker?”

“Okay, okay.” She was trembling, and trying not to panic. She had managed to lull this lunatic during the visit to Gabby, so why rile him up now? “I never should have slept with any of them. I should have come to you first. Trusted that you'd do the right thing. I was just so hurt. And afraid you were over me. Over us. Maybe even over Trent. It was wrong, and I'm sorry.”

He wasn't buying it. His smirk told her that. Then he elucidated. “Don't you want to know what would've happened if you had turned down my marriage proposal? Before Dad got here and made things simpler, I mean.”

“I don't want to hear it. This isn't you talking. It's your father.”

“Oh, it's me. And don't worry, I
still
wouldn't have threatened to kill you. I would have deported you safely back to Earth. You
and
your cowboy. And if I found proof he was illegally trafficking in bio-metal, I would have prosecuted him first. Which means I could confiscate his ship and everything on it. But at least you and he would be together, right?” he added malevolently.

Her mind reeled at the insane scenario. Confiscate the
Drifter
? Which meant confiscating Sensie. It was unthinkable!

She wanted to call him a monster. To insist he was every bit as evil as his father had ever been. That she'd literally kill herself before she'd conceive his spawn. And maybe if she had taken more than a quarter of a pain pill, she actually would have hurled those sorts of insults.

But she had only taken a quarter of a pill—enough to lessen her pain without dulling her mind—so she was able to tell him quietly, “I wish your father hadn't shown up. Then we could have had that conversation. I would have welcomed it.”

“Why?”

She touched his clenched jaw. “I would have seen how much I hurt you with that stupid mistake with Rick. I would have tried to make it right, not just for our baby's sake, but for us. This nightmare with your father complicates all that, but it doesn't change the truth.”

“Which is?” he drawled. But despite the suspicious tone, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Not innocent hope, like a decent man might feel. It was undoubtedly selfish and ugly, but still, Alexia could work with it.

But she didn't actually need to work with it, because TJ's pulse band buzzed at that moment. He checked it, then announced, “It's Gabby,” as though they had just been discussing sports or the weather. “Give me a minute.”

He wandered away, spoke in quiet tones, then came back with a pleased expression. “She's ready for us now. So unless you want to sleep…?”

“No. There's too much to do.”

“She asked me to give you a message.”

“Oh?”

He flashed a conciliatory smile. “She says she found that pair of sexy shoes she told you about. They're sitting right in her living room. And she thinks it's a good omen.” Moving his face closer to hers, he murmured, “I think so too.”

“So do I,” Alexia assured him, daring to run her fingertip across his lips. “Let's hope it's a new beginning for both of us.”

Chapter Seventeen

As Alexia and TJ crossed the platform with Belker trailing behind, she tried to picture Captain Zeke Angelus. Rick had been scathing in his review, calling the guy a card cheat among other things. But he had also admitted the smuggler could get things done. And Alexia had a lot of things for him to do.

Sitting right in her living room…a good omen
.

Apparently Gabrielle Rousseau, for all her prim, loyal, Ms. Perfect ways, was a criminal at heart.

She couldn't wait to hear the plan. Maybe Zeke would hit TJ and Belker with tranquilizer darts the moment they stepped into Gabby's apartment. That would be amazing. Or maybe he'd be hiding in a closet, ready to spring. Either way, all was now in his capable hands.

As they rode the elevator to the third floor of Gabby's building, she began to second-guess things. If TJ was tranquilized, TJ would wake up. Worse, Belker would wake up. They'd know Gabby had betrayed them, and they'd mercilessly pursue, prosecute, convict and murder Gabby
and
Zeke.

No, no
, she promised herself as they stepped into the hall and approached Gabby's place.
Zeke won't let anyone hurt his girlfriend. He gave her a red beacon, for God's sake! That's true love. And Gabby wouldn't put Zeke in danger either. Which means they must have a more sophisticated plan, so just go with it no matter how crazy it seems.

Gabby pulled the door open and gave them a distracted smile, as though her mind were as disheveled as her half-curled hair. “Sorry about this mess,” she told them.

Alexia thought she was referring to her appearance. Then she stepped into the living room and saw racks of dresses, piles of shoes and general bedlam.

What she
didn't
see was Zeke Angelus. Not unless he was disguised as a ruffled gown.

TJ instructed Belker to wait in the hall. Then he closed the door and chuckled. “Did a grenade go off in here?”

“You're not helping,” Gabby said unhappily. “I thought I had it under control, but it's going to take a miracle.” Eyeing him with renewed interest, she murmured, “Why aren't you dressed?”

“Huh?”

“Where's your tuxedo? Oh my God, please don't tell me it's not clean.”

“It's fine,” TJ told her, sharing her panic. “I just didn't realize I was supposed to wear it.”

“At your wedding? Your
wedding
?” She visibly calmed herself and added sweetly, “Speaking of which, I had the Trading Post send up some champagne. So we could toast your future. And we'll have someone pick up the tux, so all is well. Right?”

“Right.” Alexia bit back a laugh. If she wasn't careful, she'd get drawn into Gabby's fake panic too. Instead, she said brightly, “TJ said you found the shoes.”

“Forget the shoes,” TJ interrupted, sniffing the air. “What's that stench? A chemical spill?”

Gabby glared. “There's a lot going on, thanks to your impossible timeline. I'm warming nail lacquer over there, and we've got fortified acetone for mistakes. And one of the cakes is rum—ugh. So I sprayed perfume all over the place, but it only made things worse. Sorry.” She handed him a flute of champagne, then poured two more for herself and Alexia. “Cheers. And all the best to the happy couple.”

Alexia tried to keep up with Gabby's hare-brained scheme. As far as she could tell, the plan was to use toxic fumes to drive TJ from the premises. It was clever, assuming they all didn't pass out first, which was a real possibility.

The assault on her injured sinuses was so bad, she moved to the rack of dresses and buried her nose in a pink satin gown just to blot out the stench. The cool fabric soothed her swollen cheek, so she burrowed farther. Then she spotted a faux mink stole and gathered it close, loving the texture of the soft fur.

Thus fortified, she turned back to Gabby and insisted, “I
love
that perfume. If there's any left, I want to wear it at the wedding.”

“Let me get it. We'll spritz you right now,” the blonde said brightly. “TJ? Can we ask your private courier to bring the tux?”

“I'll get it myself,” he told her, his expression sickly. “What time should I be back? And meanwhile, open a fucking window.”

“What?” Gabby's eyes filled with tears. “You don't like the fragrance? I'm such an idiot.”

“No,
I'm
the idiot.” He touched her shoulder. “I'll get dressed at my place, then meet you here at one thirty.”

“I can't get rid of these odors by then,” Gabby told him, her eyes still swimming. “I feel like I messed this all up. Can't we just meet you in court chambers? I assume that's where you're holding the ceremony.”

When he hesitated, Alexia drawled, “She's right. You should go. And take your creepy enforcer with you.”

“Belker stays,” TJ said, a glint of suspicion in his eyes. “He'll escort you to the courtroom and I'll meet you there, just like Gabby said.”

“That's more romantic, Alexia,” Gabby insisted. “The groom isn't supposed to see you in your gown before the ceremony. Remember?”

Alexia hesitated, but only for a moment. “That really does sound romantic. Something else we can tell our daughters. And the truth is—” she gave TJ a wistful smile, “—I can't wait to see you in your tux. The last time was at Trent's Nobel ceremony. You looked so handsome. I'll never forget it.”

“I remember that night, too,” he assured her. And even though she knew he was remembering the hand job at the after-party, it still worked. Maybe even better than actual romance.

“Stay or go,” Gabby told him sharply. “We have a lot to do, and no time to do it in.”

“I'm gone. Thanks for everything. And Lexie?” His expression softened. “I can't wait to see you in your gown.”

She held his gaze with her own, murmuring, “You made it happen. In spite of everything. And if Trent were here, he'd be shaking your hand and insisting on being your best man. But at least he'll be there in spirit.”

TJ seemed choked up, then grabbed the door handle and excused himself from the apartment.

As soon as he was gone, Gabby grinned. “Damn, you're good.”

“You're not so bad yourself. And now, without further ado, I want to meet Captain Rescue.”

“What?” Gabby cleared her throat. “You thought he was
here
? I mean, he
was
here, but now? He has a million things to arrange, and only an hour to do it in. But we have a plan, I promise.”

The plan concocted by Zeke and Gabby was simple. He would ready his ship for quick take-off, while Gabby dressed Alexia in a sexy blonde wig, six-inch silver heels, coral-pink leggings and a pink-and-white-striped tube top.

“Zeke tied some sheets together in my bedroom. You'll use those to escape through the back window, then pretend to be a bio-girl. Sashay across the platform to the
Ace of Hearts
. Zeke will do the rest. But first…” Gabby winced teasingly, “…you need to hit me with something. But gently, okay? Just enough to leave a bruise. Zeke left a tube of blood-identical make-up, so smear some over the spot where you clobber me.”

“I'm not going to hit you. Not even gently.” Alexia shook her head in pretend disgust. “You guys are amateurs. I brought knock-out drugs. The perfect alibi.”

“Oh, thank God. That sounds better.”

“Does he really think he can get me through the sinkhole before they catch on and close it down?”

“Zeke's always confident. But today? He was a superhero. You should have seen him. Like a Greek god. Or, I guess, a Roman one.”

Alexia enjoyed Gabby's euphoric expression, imagining how sinfully the two lovers had conspired. “He sounds like a keeper. I promise I'll return him in the same condition I receive him.”

“Pardon? Oh.” Gabby blushed. “It's just a fling. Nothing more.”

“That's what I said about Rick,” Alexia told her impishly. Then she corrected herself by saying, “That's different. Obviously. Because he's a million miles away.”

Gabby's radar visibly activated. “You must be the first person to get close to him in years. It's so romantic.”

“And over before it started. Trust me.”

Gabby nodded. “He's not ready. I noticed that from the start. Like he's two completely different guys rolled into one.”

The observation made Alexia sigh. “In what way?”

“He knows how to have fun. But he also knows
better
than to have fun. Because,” she repeated lamely, “he's not ready. His heart, I mean. It's still healing.”

“I know.” Exhaling, Alexia told her new friend firmly, “I just want to get away from David and TJ. Romance is the last thing on my mind. I'll leave that to you and the Roman god of hotness.”

Alexia donned the long blonde wig and distractingly sexy outfit, leaving the sky-high shoes for the last minute since they were built for seduction, not mobility, which meant she really would have to saunter—not run—across the platform. The men would notice, but would also know better than to approach her, since hook-ups were arranged in the Trading Post, even if the trysts occurred elsewhere. If they wanted this new blonde, they'd know where to find her. And they would definitely want her, since the outfit made her legs look twice as long as usual, and her breasts, which didn't really need any help, were spilling out with extra enthusiasm above the tube top.

The men would realize she was headed for the space dock, which meant some pilot had gotten to her first. And that lucky guy was about to have the time of his life.

But first, Alexia had to take care of a few details. Step one, drugging a friend. It didn't feel right, but was necessary for Gabby if she hoped to plead ignorance later. She actually wanted to take three or four of the pain pills, just for realism, but Alexia convinced her to take one and a half. A mere quarter had made Alexia appear dopey to TJ, so a full dose plus a half would be more than enough to drug Gabby to the gills. It might even knock her out completely.

So Gabby ingested one and a half tablets, while Alexia spilled the rest out on the table, crushing five more pills into bits and adding them to the blonde's champagne. With luck, Dr. Meg would opine that a mega dose had knocked Gabby out.

“Just go to Space Dock Six and look for a pretty silver ship named
Space of
—I mean,
Ace of Space
,” Gabby murmured as she nestled against a couch cushion.

“Good grief, you're passing out,” Alexia said with a rueful laugh. “At least you won't have to pretend.”

“Alekshaaah…” Gabby grabbed her hand. “Move your pascht.”

“My what?”

“
Pacscht!
The pinky thingie.”

“My contraception patch? Good thinking.” Alexia pried it off the back of her neck, ignoring the jangle to her nerve endings as its talons retracted. Then she stuck it under her ear, bio-girl style, gritting her teeth as the tentacles reattached.

Why didn't Trent fix that
? she asked herself with a grim laugh.
He would have if he'd been born a female.

As she took off her pulse band to prevent tracking, she asked, “Anything else?”

“I love TJ.”

“I know, sweetie. But you love Captain Angelus too, don't you? And he obviously loves you.”

The intoxicated female sighed. “I love it when he tusches me. But I love TJ so mush. And you too.”

“I love you too, Gabby.”

The blonde seemed offended by the quick reply. “I'm serialist. You're my bescht friend. My bescht.
Really
.”

“I know,” Alexia said, laughing but also touched. “And don't worry. TJ will never know about this. So just go to sleep. Everything's going to be fine, I promise.”

“I love TJ. But you're my bescht friend,” the woozy coconspirator insisted one last time. Then she nestled into the cushions and began to snore in a very non-Gabby-like way even before Alexia could cover her with a fluffy pink comforter.

“Now for the actual escape,” she murmured, grabbing the shoes and heading for the bedroom. If Gabby had been a regular employee, she would only have rated a studio apartment. As a department head, hers was much more spacious, and had allowed Zeke to pre-tie five sheets together and move the bed frame closer to the window for use as an anchor.

Apparently he wanted Alexia to slither down the makeshift rope from a window three stories above the ground. The apartment faced away from the center of the platform, so the area below looked deserted, but still, three stories? She was fairly sure she'd break her neck, but decided not to overthink it, so she securely tied one end to the bedpost, then tied her high heels and sunglasses to the other end before throwing it out the window. It dangled a good five feet above the platform, but that seemed like the least of her problems, so she ran back to the living room to check on Gabby's breathing one last time, then came back, grabbed the top of the rope, and hoisted herself out until she was dangling and swaying precariously.

After that, it went freakishly well. She even dropped to the ground early, then put on the shoes and shades, straightened her outfit and strolled out to the crunchy gravel pathway. There were men everywhere, or so it seemed, and she definitely turned some heads, which was simultaneously flattering and frightening. But no one approached her. Because there were rules, and everyone knew them. Especially Captain Angelus, a man who made his living
dodging
those rules. This was sport to him and so she promised herself, again and again, that he could pull it off.

Wobbling slightly from a combination of bad shoes, pain meds and adrenaline, she proceeded slowly. In a way, she appreciated this last chance to view the platform. It had seemed like a miracle—artificial, yes, but also impressive. Now the plasticel grass and trees, the phony breeze and the creepy Sea-Mont building revealed themselves for what they were—a prison. Gabby had called that one right. The residents partied and smiled and dressed up and formed friendships, but the overlay was unmistakable. They were billions of miles from home with no way of returning—not ever—save for the good graces of an evil dictator.