Misha frowned. A woman standing in the corridor frowned back at him.
“Mr. Orlinski,” she said in a businesslike voice. “A word, if you please.”
“That bitch’s been lying to them,” the square little man whispered. “Claims she’s the victim, not us.”
Misha shot him a confused look. Misha hadn’t thought of himself as a victim, and he suspected the square man got what he deserved. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he followed the security woman into the corridor.
She stopped a few yards from the door, near a group of other doors, but not inside any office.
“I’ve become aware of who you really are, Mr. Orlinski,” she said in a formal tone. “You do know that assassins are supposed to register with us whenever they ride Mariposa Starlines. You did not do so. In fact, you used a false name.”
What was Rikki up to? Why had she given him away? Had she told them about Testrial? Had she said he had killed Testrial?
Misha frowned, and forced himself to concentrate. “Actually, Ms.—”
He peered at her, but she didn’t give him her name. So he continued.
“Assassins are not required to register with any starline unless we are following a high-profile target, and there is the possibility of a high-profile death. Even then, it’s recommended that an assassin report to the starline
after
the death so as not to compromise the completion of the job.”
The woman huffed, and her mouth became a thin line. “Recommended by the Guild, I suppose,” she said.
He nodded.
“I don’t like it, Mr. Orlinski. You should have contacted us.”
She wasn’t saying anything about Testrial. It felt odd.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“See that you don’t,” she said, then nodded at him, as if she expected him to leave.
He turned and started to go, when she added,
“One more thing, Mr. Orlinski.”
He stopped just like she wanted him to. But he didn’t turn around. He was a paying passenger after all. A paying
wealthy
passenger. She didn’t dare mess with him too much.
She said, “I understand that you might have been using touch drops last evening.”
“What?” Now he did turn around, so fast that she actually backed up one step before catching herself.
“I’ll have you know that we don’t allow the use of touch drops on this ship. They’re illegal most places and they’re just plain nasty.”
“I don’t use touch drops,” he said. “I’ve never used touch drops. Who told you that I did?”
But he knew the answer before he finished the question. Damn Rikki. What was she playing at? She knew that he hadn’t used touch drops. There had been no aphrodisiac involved. Not a one, or the two of them would have loathed each other by the next morning.
“That’s immaterial, Mr. Orlinski. Just realize that if I find out you use touch drops again on this ship, you will be banned from the Mariposa Starlines. You’re on probation with us, sir.”
His mouth was open. He had to force himself to shut it. He was oddly shocked. He had never been accused of anything like this in his entire life.
“Did Miss—” and it took him a minute to remember Rikki’s fake name “—Carter tell you that? Because what happened between us was completely consensual.”
The woman crossed her arms. “Just behave from now on, Mr. Orlinski. Promise me that.”
She wasn’t going to tell him any more, but then, she didn’t have to.
“I don’t use touch drops,” he said. “And be careful. I paid for your highest-class ticket on this ship, and you’re treating me like a common criminal. I will complain to your board if I have to.”
“Money doesn’t protect you from all of the rules, sir,” she said. But she sounded a little less sure of herself than she had before.
“Of course it doesn’t,” he said, “but it does protect me from the ones I didn’t break.”
Then he turned around and strode to the front of the security office. As he passed the square man, the man grinned at him.
“Touch drops,” the man said. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”
“You should stop thinking about it now,” Misha said and pushed his way out of the room.
He didn’t even stop in the corridor. He didn’t need to. He knew where he was going.
He was headed for the lift. He was headed for Rikki.
He was going to find out what was going on, once and for all.
Rikki carefully folded the beautiful silk dress. She had changed into her usual loose tan pants and comfortable blouse. She had put on her weapons, just in case, and had set her identi-card on a nearby stand.
The little room seemed even littler than it had just hours ago. If she didn’t know better, she would think the damn thing was shrinking.
Maybe it was. After all, the ship was designed to keep people out of the rooms and spending money. Maybe Windham, that stupid security officer, had pressed some button, bringing the walls in even closer, so that she could monitor Rikki better.
Blaming the victim. How nice that was.
Not that Rikki was a victim—at least right now. She had made that part up. But she had been a victim at one time.
She no longer felt bad about betraying Misha—
dammit
, Mikael—by going to the security office. She no longer felt bad about lying about their night together.
When she had gone in, she had thought she was betraying something special to save her own skin. By the time she came out, she realized just how big a betrayal he had perpetrated on her.
She was still shaking with anger. And something else, something that hurt her heart so badly, she couldn’t even articulate what exactly it was.
She sighed heavily and looked at the clothes folded on the bed next to her rucksack. She was implementing her emergency plan. There was only one way off the ship now, unless she waited until they got to a port, and then she wasn’t sure if the next port would take visitors from interstellar cruise ships. Sometimes the ships docked for supplies and left only an hour or two later.
She couldn’t take that risk. She needed to get off this ship now.
She clutched the folded dress to her chest. She had loved that dress, and had imagined when she bought it that, when she wore it, she would have a spectacular night. She had promised herself that she wouldn’t wear it when she had a target, so that she wouldn’t ruin the silk by accidentally getting blood on it.
She hadn’t gotten blood on it, but it would be forever tainted by the memories of this night and what had happened, what she had learned. She set the dress down on the dresser, next to her identi-card. Maybe someone could get better use out of the dress than she ever would.
Someone knocked on her door. She jumped. No one knocked here. The cleaners were bots that sent an electronic notice of when they would arrive.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Misha.”
His voice made her heart pound. She looked at the bed, then at the room itself, suddenly feeling cornered. He was good at systems. He could probably get in.
She could defend herself, but still, she didn’t want it to come to that.
“What do you want?”
“Let’s talk,” he said.
She shook her head, then realized he couldn’t see it. “There’s nothing to say.”
“I think there is,” he said.
He wouldn’t go away. What did he want with her? Why was she so important? He had said that it was because she had been interfering with his work, but then he had said that he knew who she was. So what was it?
Did he think she had been interfering with his work as revenge for her father’s death?
She swallowed hard. “Meet me in the K Deck lounge.”
He could see how the other half lived.
“No,” he said. “I don’t think you’ll show up.”
He knew her better than she wanted him to.
She glanced at her stuff. She had only needed an hour or so, and then she would be gone.
Of course he would get in the way of that. He had gotten in the way of everything.
“I’m not letting you in here,” she said.
“Then talk to me in the hallway,” he said. “Or better yet, we can walk to the lounge together.”
With his arm around her shoulder, guiding her so that she couldn’t get away like he had done before? No thank you.
She glanced at her equipment, which was still on the small side table. She had her weapons, but he would hold her tight so that she couldn’t use them.
She could probably fight him, but given that little scene in the security office, Windham would take Misha’s side. She made a small growling sound at herself. Not Misha. Mikael. Why couldn’t she get that through her stupid head? Misha was a love name, and she didn’t want to think of him that way ever again.
On impulse, she grabbed a small narcotic on a little sleeve that fit over her middle finger. The narcotic was strong, but not deadly. It just put anyone who used it to sleep quickly.
Then she squared her shoulders, opened the door, and slipped out of the room.
He looked gorgeous. Why did he always look gorgeous? And why couldn’t Rikki just shut off that attraction to him? Maybe she should take touch drops, just so that she could have him repel her the next day. Except that would mean she would have to sleep with him again.
Such hardship.
Her cheeks warmed. It
was
a hardship. She had to remember that.
He had stepped to the far side of the corridor so that she could get out of the door, and let the door close behind her. He hadn’t tried to rush her to get inside, something she had been prepared for.
He still wore the same coat and brocade vest he had worn in the ballroom, and that outfit still looked fantastic. She felt frumpy in her loose shirt and tan pants, then questioned why in the universe she would feel frumpy and, more importantly, why in the universe she should even care.
He looked like the man she had seen that first morning, vulnerable, softer, younger somehow. That morning when he had said his name was Misha, as if it meant something to her.
Had his eyes flashed at that point? Had he been hiding amusement?
She leaned against the door, keeping her hands at her sides. “What do you want?”
Her voice was cold.
“I thought we were going to the lounge…?” His words trailed off.
“This will only take a minute. I want you to leave me alone.”
He frowned. “I know you’re mad at me. I know I said a few things that were phrased wrong—”
“Phrased wrong?” she asked.
“That thing about control and finding you and the way that our businesses intersected. I shouldn’t have startled you with that announcement that I was the one who hired you and I shouldn’t have questioned your competence.”
Her cheeks were so warm she wanted to put a hand against them. But she didn’t dare because of the little narcotic she had on her right hand.
“
That’s
what you think this is all about?” she asked, keeping her voice cold.
His frown grew. “Isn’t it?”
It had been earlier in the night, when she wanted to find out who he was and whether or not he was lying to her again. But that seemed like years ago now.
“Not anymore,” she said flatly.
“Then tell me, Rikki, what’s going on? I want to work together, maybe figure out how we can get you into the Guild, and—”
“I told you,” she snapped. “I don’t join things.”
“Well, then,” he said, “maybe we could get you some proper training, and then—”
“I don’t need training,” she said tightly. “I’m not interested in your training. I would like you to go away.”
He tilted his head slightly as if he didn’t understand. Had no woman said that to him before? That might have been possible, considering how pretty he was. He wasn’t the kind of man women said no to.
Which meant that he didn’t know how to handle it when it happened.
“What were you doing in the security office?” he asked slowly, as if he was just starting to figure things out.
“I wanted to find out who you were,” she said.
“I told you my name this morning.”
“You said your name was Misha.”
“Yes,” he said, still looking vulnerable. In fact, looking even more vulnerable than he had looked before.
“As if you expected me to know who that was,” she said.
He made a little gesture with his hands and shoulder, a combination nod and bob and yeah-so movement. As if he still expected her to know who that was.
She continued, “I took a little of your DNA tonight and—”
“Took it?” he asked. “When it was freely offered this morning?”
She held up her right hand, determined not to smile, and tapped her thumb against her index finger. If he was paying attention, he would have seen the transparent sleeve over her middle finger. But he wasn’t paying attention, which was what she planned.