The Price of Conquest

The private rooms Devin took them to turned out to be small, exclusive clubs located within the larger, more public establishments they'd visited the previous night. Each had its own bar and staff, and rich, stylish surroundings that made the main businesses seem like slums in comparison. Every booth and table was equipped with a privacy screen that could be set to block sound, vision, or both. Most of the seats in most of the rooms were taken, with about half of them obscured by the screens.

Despite what Devin claimed went on in the rooms, the atmosphere of most of them was one of quiet sophistication. However, on more than one occasion while Kressa and Devin sat talking quietly and keeping a covert watch on the clientele, one of the other people in the room would approach their table, moving toward Devin but keeping their gaze locked on Kressa. A shake of Devin's head and a quiet "Not interested" would send the person away, their gaze still on Kressa. She met their looks challengingly.

After the third such occurrence, Devin laughed quietly and leaned close to Kressa across their table. "You've got to stop teasing them like that, love. There's a hell of a market for feisty girls like you."

"How would you know that?" she asked.

"Let's just say I like what most other people like, and I like you." He leaned closer still. "I like you a lot."

She smiled and started to reply, but the wink of a privacy screen being deactivated drew her attention to the far side of the room.

Seated at the newly revealed table was Tiode Sangrey.

A second man stood across from him, packing up a portable holo-projector and a stack of datacards. With a polite nod to Sangrey, the man gazed around the room and headed toward a nearby booth, obviously intent on showing his wares to the three men seated there.

Kressa looked back at Sangrey, studying him.

He had an angular face, pale blue-gray eyes, and a muscular build that was beginning to show the first signs of turning to fat. He wore an elaborate outfit tailored from gold silk and black leather, and his close-cropped hair was dyed bright yellow. A gold, star-shaped tattoo glinted around his right eye, and a small collection of gold earrings, necklaces, rings, and a pair of intricately wrought gold-and-gem bracelets adorned his evenly tanned skin.

In truth, he was quite a bit less ostentatious than many of the people Kressa had seen over the past couple of nights, and she wondered if he'd toned down his usual appearance so as not to draw attention to himself, or if he, like others of his type, made sure his reputation was far more impressive than the real thing.

Even without all of the flashy clothing and accouterments, however, Kressa thought that one look into Sangrey's pale eyes would have allowed her to identify him. Full of life, yet completely devoid of feeling, they were the eyes of a man who let nothing and no one stand between him and what he wanted.

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Kressa shivered as she thought of how many innocent people had died looking into those cold eyes.

What in hell am I doing here? she wondered suddenly. Why was she in the same room as someone like Tiode Sangrey? And why was she with anyone who intended, for whatever reason, to have any sort of dealings with him?

She looked at Devin, wanting to say something but unsure where to begin.

"Wait here," he said. "This shouldn't take long."

He stood and made his way across the room toward Sangrey's table, his stride confident.

Two men seated at a table near Sangrey's watched Devin closely, and Kressa realized they must work for the pirate; probably members of his crew who acted as bodyguards when he was in public. She surreptitiously scanned the room for any other potential threats. She found none, but knew that did not mean they weren't there.

Keeping part of her attention on the two men, she watched as Devin and Sangrey exchanged a few quiet words. After a moment, Sangrey invited his visitor to have a seat and then activated the audio privacy screen as Devin sat down.

The two men spoke for several minutes. At one point, Sangrey looked at Kressa, his piercing eyes studying her minutely, as if perusing some new piece of jewelry or clothing he was thinking about buying.

Suddenly, Kressa's hand was aching for a gun, and she briefly entertained the thought of catching the cold-hearted killer alone just long enough to do the human race the favor of removing him from the gene pool. It wouldn't bring back the people he'd killed or take away the pain of those left behind, but it would prevent him from hurting anyone else. Still, unless she were put into a situation in which her life was in danger, she didn't think she could bring herself to kill anyone in cold blood, no matter what they had done in the past or might do in the future.

Sangrey gave her a hard, compassionless smile.

Then again…

He turned back to Devin.

They spoke for a while longer, seemed to get into a brief debate—at which time the two bodyguards' attention on their boss increased dramatically—and then Devin and Sangrey stood and shook hands. The guards relaxed, and Devin returned to Kressa.

"Finished?" she asked, trying to ignore the fact that Sangrey was giving her another probing look.

Devin nodded and gazed down at her for a long time, then he hooked a hand under her arm and pulled her to her feet. "Let's go."

Kressa frowned. "Where?"

"To the room. I need to get some things."

"Then what?"

"We'll see." He led her out of the club.

"Devin, what's wrong?"

He stopped and looked at her, and then gave her a quick kiss.

"Don't worry, love. Nothing's wrong."

She knew he was lying.