“Good morning to you too.” Duke pried her hand off his suit and knelt down to pick up the box he had dropped. “Serves me right for trying to be nice.” He shoved the box at her. “Eat.”

  “Yeah, you’re a regular angel of mercy,” she muttered. The smell coming from the box made her mouth water. To hell with it. She opened it, tore off a piece of the still warm bread. Shoved it into her mouth. He hadn’t moved. The force screen behind him was off.

  “What, you want a tip?” Casually, she sat up, tore off another piece. He pushed a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed. As if he had something to be embarrassed about. “I just… I wanted… I found your ring in the gym,” he finally spat out, digging into a pocket of his pants to extract it. His dataUnit came out first, and he put it into his back pocket before digging out the ring. She closed her fist around it when he dropped it into her hand. “Look… I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” She slipped the ring on slowly, and calculated distance.

  “Yeah.” Clearly regretful he’d said it in the first place, Duke continued.

  “Look, I shouldn’t have helped Brenner when he… you know.”

  She chewed, pretended to think it over. “With his little game?”

  He nodded.

  “Well…” she tore off another piece, put the box down, “…here’s a tip for you.” Lightning-swift, her elbow connected sharply with his ribs, and the blade in her ring dug at the point just under his jaw. “You’re gonna be a lot more than sorry,” she gritted between her teeth, and rammed her elbow up.

  His jaw cracked, her elbow sang. He folded at her feet. Nerves pumping, she stepped over him, bending to retrieve the keypad from his pocket, and went through the forceShield. And ran. If his jaw hadn’t ached so much, Duke would have smiled.

  * * *

  In the commandPoint, the emShuttle monitor dinged… and went black.

  “What the fuck?” Trent tapped furiously at his keypad, just as emergency generators indicators lit up. “We’re down. Minimum power, air, grav. Weapons. Unauthorized shuttle launch attempt just before.”

  Well, it made sense then. Brenner clenched his jaw. What, you stupid fuck?

  Turn her over to MicroSel for interrogation?

  Just at that moment, the commPad beeped incoming.

  “emShuttle to Brenner.” The voice was unmistakable, still husky. His hands, his balls, tightened at the thought.

  “Brenner here. Restore power immediately.”

  She laughed, a bitter sound he was beginning to hate. “Yes, sir. As soon as you open the airLock.”

  “That’s not something you can do? Imagine my surprise.”

  Beside him, Trent typed furiously. “She’s gotta new passLock on the system. It will take me a minute to get around it,” he said softly.

  “I could power this thing through and see what happens,” Dinah returned hotly. “But I’d prefer not to put your crew in danger. Release the lock --”

  her voice became calm again, “--and I’ll restore power.”

  “Brenner --” Trent was hitting keys double time.

  “Release it.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Without another word, another set of keys was tapped. A metallic groan, an adjustment of the grav field, and they could see the shuttle in one of the monitors. Seconds later, power winked back.

  * * *

  Curled up in the pilot seat, Dinah watched the ship in front of her. She almost felt Brenner’s eyes on her. Bastard. She made a mental note to erase all records of their vContacts. Shit, would he sue her for stealing his property?

  Fingers typing furiously, she pounded out a char-message. I will compensate GrimJustin for the shuttle’s full value adding twenty-five percent for possible damages.

  The response came almost immediately. Understood. That was it. He’d let her go.

  Dinah pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, leaned into them, not letting the tears come. Just do your thing. She set course for the nearest vTech affiliate-port --she had to do it manually since the stupid thing wouldn’t accept voice commands --then accessed her private communication relay. In possession. She didn’t get a reply back, or a recipient notification --probably because her secureEncrypt didn’t match the outgoing of the shuttle. Oh well. They’d be expecting her. And she intended to find out what exactly that thing in her head was.

  Her stuff was still on Origins --she’d left everything in the hotel while she wandered the retroBazar. How Brenner had managed to snatch her she had no idea. But there was no way she’d risk going back there. Thanks again, Bastard Brenner.

  She dimmed the lights in the cabin and lay back in the seat. The stars swam in front her, but if it was the ship’s motion or her own tears, she couldn’t say.

  * * *

  Aboard GrimJustin, Brenner watched the shuttle get farther away. His hands tightened into fists and deliberately he relaxed them. Fuck it. He heard the door swish open, watched Duke walked in, a grin on his face, a purpling bruise on his jaw.

  His eyes cool, Brenner studied him. Ignored the tightness in his chest.

  “You could have let Med take care of it.”

  “I could have.” Gingerly Duke traced a fingertip over the bruise. “It hurts like a bitch but looks more legit this way.”

  Brenner’s gaze returned out into space. “She’s gone.”

  Duke nodded. “MicroSel will need an update.”

  “Take care of it.” Tearing his gaze away from the rapidly disappearing shuttle, Brenner strode toward the exit, stopping right at the doors. “And change the codes, will you? I’ll be at the gym.”

  * * *

  The gym was a bad idea.

  He pounded on the bag, the pain from his muscles pulling at the bruises on his ribs. The bruises from her fists. Right before he took her. His own fists stung as he punched the bag, gloveless, as if the slight pain from torn skin could deaden the empty pain somewhere inside his chest, under the bruises she’d left. Breath pumping, he concentrated on technique. Jab. Jab. Upper. Hook. Dinah’s hook could use more work. Her uppercuts were strong, her hook she telegraphed. Her fakes were great, her eyes revealing nothing --until she was arching under him, then her eyes were a molten gold… Damn it.

  A punch set the bag reeling.

  * * *

  By the end of the second day, the team stopped joking about his black mood.

  “I’m telling you --” Trent was performing the usual ship-wide diagScan, “--he should have just fucked her out of his system. It works every time.” He smirked now, a man arrogant in his skill, pretty boy handsome, his vivid good looks hiding a cool mind of a brilliant hacker --the main reason Brenner had hired him.

  “Speaking from experience?” Duke’s expression was mild, his eyes calculating. The weapons backup wasn’t as good as it should have been when the power went out.

  “Shit.” Trent pounded something on the keyboard. “Works every time. Women aren’t that great a mystery.”

  Duke snorted at that one, but kept his opinion to himself. Undaunted, Trent continued. “The best thing for him now is to find himself a couple of nice little bimbos on Bachhus --” he didn’t stop as Duke coughed once, twice, “--and screw for a couple of days. He’ll forget this one in no time.” He stopped for a breath just as a heavy hand rested on his shoulder.

  “Gossiping, ladies?” Brenner’s voice was mild but his eyes were shooting sparks.

  “Potential theory. The best way to get over a women is to get under another.” Duke’s voice was mocking, designed to switch the heat onto himself. Trent shot him a grateful look.

  “What about a theory of encrypting your own dataUnit so unfriendly means can’t be exerted on it?” Brenner’s voice was silky.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Duke shrugged, refusing to be pulled into it again. He’d already been ribbed more than once for it. “Heard it all before. You should have made sure she didn’t have any weapons on her.” He’d thought of that one just recently and considered it brilliant even though he’d omitted the fact that he’d handed her the ring himself. His report had the blade at his dick rather than his neck. Somehow it seemed more believable. If they thought one little girl could drop him, hell, why not. Just then, incoming beeped. “Brenner.” Trent’s voice was tense. “AIC

  Franklin, vTech.”

  Brenner deliberately rolled his shoulders, sat down at the mainCommand station. Nodded.

  Asshole-in-Charge filled the screen --pale eyes, receding hairline, glare of glasses. Idly, Brenner wondered why the man made himself look even more bookish, instead of having his vision fixed. Must be going for the whole Admin-in-Power thing. Intentionally, not caring about being rude, Brenner waited for the man to speak first.

  “Commander Brenner.” Assistant Information Chairman Ivan Franklin was nervous, Brenner saw it in the telltale flutter of his eyelashes. “I trust you are well?”

  “Chairman.” Below the screen, Brenner’s hands were clenched. Deliberately, he kept his voice soft, his tone mocking. Those pale eyes blinked at him behind the glare of glasses. “I have a matter of extreme delicacy, and more importantly, extreme caution.”

  Sure. “Chairman, as I’m sure your research indicated, GrimJustin has a history of rejecting vTech’s offers.” The fact that this bastard had the nerve to even contact them made Brenner clench his teeth.

  “Yes, of course.” Franklin almost squirmed in his chair. “I do offer my apologies for the Kremlin incident. I wasn’t involved personally of course.”

  “Of course.” Sarcasm dripped.

  “In fact, I believe this particular contract will be of interest to you. vTech is prepared to compensate you by tripling your current rates, plus whatever expenses you incur.”

  Brenner pretended to consider it. “We will require seventy-five percent as a deposit, with the remainder paid on delivery.”

  “Understandable.”

  Too easy, Brenner thought. He pushed further. “I will need to know the extent of the project before I can give you an estimate.”

  The reptilian face leaned closer to the screen, his dull, pale eyes intense. “I will need your full disclosure --”

  “Let me send you our privacy contract.” He threw a quick look at Trent, who pounded away on the keyboard.

  The door behind him swooshed open. In one of the monitors, he saw a reflection of Med before the man hastily stepped back out. Franklin’s incoming beeped. He bent over, reading it intently before looping off a signature and shooting it back. “It’s satisfactory.”

  As it came back, Trent nodded.

  “Now…” looking more sure of himself, Franklin steepled his fingers,

  “…again, this is a delicate situation.” He paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. “We’ve received a transmission from a rogue Data Agent. The transmission originated from your ship.”

  “Chairman, we do not have a Data Agent onboard.” Brenner was so fucking polite, he thought he should be teaching charm school.

  “Commander.” Franklin smiled, leaning in closer again. Brenner hoped he would zoom out or something. “I have intel that you were hired by MicroSel to apprehend a data leak. I also have a transmission sent specifically to our headquarters with the GrimJustin secureEncrypt identification.” Franklin paused, as if to give Brenner a chance to confirm or deny. When Brenner did neither, the man continued. “The agent you apprehended is threatening to undermine several vTech/MicroSel anticompete contracts. Our admin agents should not be put into a position to compromise their integrity when she offers them this information. I regret that I must ask you to discharge her.”

  Stunned, Brenner stayed silent.

  Franklin continued on. “I realize it puts you in a somewhat difficult position with your current employer. However, this is not a conflict of interest as I am looking to protect both MicroSel and vTech, and, again, I am prepared to triple your rates.”

  Duke typed furiously beside him. A char-msg popped up on the console superimposed on Franklin’s face. Her data is wiped. No results on search. Why the hell did they want to discharge her?

  “We don’t accept discharge projects as a rule, Chairman. But,” he held up a hand before Franklin could sputter, “I will consider it. If you could transmit your current contractor policy?”

  Franklin nodded and disconnected.

  “You are considering it?” Duke had his arms crossed at his chest. Trent was staring at him.

  Brenner leaned back in his chair. “I am considering it. They want her dead - it’s something big.”

  “Her order to retrieve the keySeq was sent from Franklin’s personal unit.”

  This from Trent.

  “Yeah,” Brenner nodded, “I remember that.”

  “He is in such a hurry to ‘discharge’ her,” Duke mimicked quotes with his fingers, “all of a sudden. With us, vTech denied any association. Why discharge? Unless he knows MicroSel wants something.”

  They stared at each other as realization hit. “Shit.”

  Brenner turned back to the keypad, furiously typing in commands.

  “Shuttle is twenty hours from here at top speed.” The engine on that thing was a piece of shit.

  Trent ran a series of commands. “Same coordinates were relayed to two MicroSel cruisers just before vTech comm.”

  It took Brenner less than a second to make a decision. “Trent, see if you can make twenty hours fit into fifteen.” He glanced at Duke. “Inform AIC

  Franklin we accept the terms.”

  He adjusted course, and saw the stars blur as the ship picked up speed.

  Chapter Six

  She was doing fine. Just fine.

  This bucket of chips was a pain in the ass to deal with, but she dealt with it. It had to be re-taught voice commands so she’d spent hours programming in vocals, and reprogramming them when the stupid thing lost them. Dinah pored over command manuals and tried to keep her mind on specs. And not Brenner. Damned bastard.

  She still hadn’t heard from vTech, which concerned her. It was against procedure to contact agents with less than Security 5 clearance, but Sec 5

  and above weren’t transmitting. Public or otherwise. She had to stop his face from popping into her head. The lust had dried up, leaving anger, and under it was the raw pain from betrayal. Wasn’t she supposed to not feel pain? Idiot. Who fell for someone they fucked more in VR than in real life?

  Her knuckles still smarted a bit --the scabs pulling every time she closed her hands. She stared out into space, thinking about fighting him, riding him. God, it was good. Both combat and sex. And wasn’t it just dandy she would never see that bastard, much less allow herself to touch him again?

  The shuttle lost the last command she fed it and she barely restrained herself from pounding on the keypad. The damn thing would probably lose the last hour of work just to piss her off further. She really needed to run a diagnostic on it, but the latest one registered was about six months old and she sure as hell wasn’t going to pay for new diagWare for Brenner’s shuttle.

  She glanced out, absently noting two stars glowing brighter. When they blinked at her, she snapped out of it. Here we go. Her contact at MicroSel, the one she hadn’t revealed in interrogation -- orgasm torture, her inner voice snickered at her --obviously hadn’t returned the favor. Two MicroSel sec units were rushing toward her in full branded glory, the cheerful red and blue logo already visible and somehow mocking.

  They probably had orders to kill her. She thought that calmly. So what can you offer them of value to keep your sweet ass in one main piece? Her contact at MicroSel? Discard --they obviously already knew who he was. Brenner’s shuttle… Discard, no one put good data on escape hatches anyway. The chip in her head? Potentially. It was brand new tech. Granted the shuttle wasn’t as equipped as her own unit --or a unit suited for a ten-year-old --but she found zero data on it. She’d have to research it. For now, it was Plan B.

  Incoming beeped. At least that was vocal. “GrimJustin shuttle.”

  Oh great.

  “Our data indicate a vTech agent aboard. A warrant ID T324 has been issued to apprehend one identified as Dinah Burns. Please comply.”

  Great, security-type warrant.

  She hit reply, text only --maybe it was a good thing vocals weren’t working on this thing so they couldn’t ID her voice. MicroSel Security Unit, this is GrimJustin shuttle. Currently undergoing data cleanup. Your scans will verify. With so much shit on this thing’s drive and the memory constantly failing, that could pass as a logical explanation.

  “We regret to interrupt, GrimJustin shuttle. Prepare to be taken onboard.”

  Okay, they didn’t fall for it. The shuttle is infected with virus ID M94ji837. The virus has not been contained, and may compromise your own security. She made up the number, but gave it a pattern of one of the viruses vTech’s viral lab issued every couple of weeks. Of course, she wasn’t supposed to know about it, but hey, life or death here. If they didn’t blast her into space, she’d have to take one of the viral geeks out as a thank you.

  “GrimJustin shuttle. Our scan does indicate a virus on your ship. Probability shows the virus will not affect our security. Engage docking thrusters.”

  Shit. There was a virus on this thing? Hell, she didn’t have time to think about it. She put in a command to back up, slowly. The weapons scan beeped a warning --targeted engine systems.

  Another incoming. “MicroSel Security Unit. This is GrimJustin.”

  “Oh, no way in hell,” Dinah muttered, watching the other ship get closer. Dwarfed by them, she felt like a sitting duck. In a tin can.

  “How can we be of assistance?” Brenner’s voice was cool through the comm.

  “A warrant ID T324 has been issued to apprehend vTech agent identified as Dinah Burns. We have data indicating she is on the shuttle.”

  “Agent Burns is in custody aboard GrimJustin, and en route to MicroSel security headquarters after intel extraction.”

  Extraction my ass, Dinah thought.

  “We are unable to transfer custody at this time,” Brenner continued.

  “Transmitting contract for your verification.”