of handsome things,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Companions or employees?”
“A little of both.” Brigid smiled. The art of the deal was in making the other party comfortable, and Brigid knew that she had better make this black marketer happy. If Reba DeFore’s estimates were correct, the Cerberus personnel would be needing these shots before the month was out.
Kane and Grant took up positions to the sides of the open area of the boathouse as Ohio Blue sat back down on her crimson-cushioned recliner. The blond-haired woman patted the cushion with her hand, encouraging Brigid to join her. “Let’s talk business, Miss Baptiste,” she drawled. “I understand that you’re in the market for some pharmaceuticals.”
“That’s right,” Brigid replied, resting herself at the edge of the couch beside the stunning woman. “I’m looking for some specific jabs, the kind of stuff they were producing in Beausoleil before the…” She trailed off, her hands open to indicate that she didn’t have the words to describe it.
“A terrible thing,” Ohio agreed. “Truly, truly terrible. My brother died in the attack.”
“I’m sorry,” Brigid lamented.
“No matter,” the slender blonde continued. “Many a good business opportunity has come out of that disaster, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
As Baptiste continued to talk with the trader, Kane and Grant warily scanned the vast room. The place smelled damp. There was green mold scabbing over the walls and the wooden floor planks, and the lighting was inadequate for such a large room. There were several broken windows high in the walls of the building, and the whole place felt cold and dank. Guards patrolled all around, armed with subguns, heavy rifles and pistols. When he looked up, Kane spotted half a dozen more guards walking across the tops of the highest crates, and two more just standing up there, their blasters trained on the negotiating parties below. He turned to Grant, caught the man’s eye and mouthed the words, “We are very outnumbered.”
In response, Grant just nodded and beamed a bright smile. Kane knew what that meant—they were here now, and there wasn’t a lot they could do about it.
The discussions seemed to be going well between Ohio Blue and Brigid Baptiste, until Brigid opened up her satchel and showed the trader its contents.
“What is this?” Ohio said, clearly affronted. “Some kind of joke?”
“Fifty gold coins,” Brigid stated, trying to remain calm. “Exactly as requested in your communiqué.”
Blue held one of the ancient coins before her visible blue eye and, for a moment, Brigid half expected her to bite down on it like an olden-day pirate testing if a gold piece was genuine.
“We’ve traveled quite some distance to obtain this merchandise,” Brigid prompted.
Blue looked at the gold coin for another half minute before finally flipping it back into Brigid’s satchel. “I need more,” she said.
Brigid was incredulous. “You’re upping the price?” she said. “But all I brought was fifty pieces.”
“Seventy,” Ohio declared, her lone blue eye staring at Brigid.
Brigid sighed, considering her options quickly. “What if I take less?” she suggested. “What does fifty get me?”
Ohio Blue smiled tightly. “Nothing. Deal’s off.”
“Wait,” Brigid instructed. “I can get seventy. I just don’t have it here.”
A wicked smile crossed Ohio’s thin blue lips. “Perhaps,” she said, gazing openly at Grant, “we can work out a trade?”
Brigid followed the woman’s eye line, watching Grant as the huge ex-Mag stood with his broad back to them, checking their surroundings. “What kind of trade?” she asked, her tone dubious.
“One can always use more…employees,” Ohio said, her tone dripping with meaning.
“Grant’s not for sale,” Brigid stated firmly.
Ohio Blue’s gloved hands turned inward, held open before her as though such a suggestion were beneath her. “I’m not talking about a sale, Miss Baptiste,” she said. “I’m not a barbarian. A simple trade is all. Your impressive friend there for the items you wish to acquire.”
Brigid appeared to be giving the matter some serious consideration before she finally shook her head, her red tresses flowing back and forth with the movement. “I’m afraid I can’t let Grant go right now,” she explained sadly.
“In which case,” Ohio told her, standing up from the couch, “you’ll be leaving empty-handed.”
After a moment, Brigid stood, too, and turned to offer the woman her hand once more. “It was nice meeting you, Miss Blue,” she said, a tight, businesslike smile on her face. “Seventy coins. My people will be in touch to organize another meeting.”
Blue nodded her agreement, and Brigid walked back through the makeshift alleyways of stacked crates with Kane and Grant falling into step behind her. The coins in the satchel chinked as it slapped against Brigid’s leg with the roll of her hips.
“A swing and a miss,” Grant muttered. “I could have stayed in bed.”
Brigid turned to look at him, a mischievous smile on her lips. “You almost ended up in someone else’s,” she said quietly as they neared the door. Just then, Kane flinched, an almost unconscious movement, and his arms swept forward in a blur, shoving Brigid to the floor and pulling Grant down to join them. “Down!” he shouted, but the word was obscured by the explosive sounds of gunfire coming from behind them.
“What the hell!” Grant snarled, scrambling to cover between the crates in a rapid crouch walk.
Kane rolled beside him, while Brigid ducked behind the stacked crates across from them, pulling the TP-9 from its holster. Kane and Grant powered the Sin Eaters into their hands as they backed up against the tall stacks of crates.
“This is crazy,” Brigid hissed across the gap between them in a harsh whisper. “They had us outnumbered, could have killed us at any time. Why now?”
There were more gunshots, and a hailstorm of bullets drilled against the crates beside them. When the shooting stopped, Kane flicked his head out into the space between the crates, taking in the scene in a fraction of a second before ducking back behind cover as more bullets whizzed past.
“It’s not us they’re after,” Kane told Brigid as he returned to cover. “I think someone’s come to speak to your new friend.”
“With bullets,” Grant added, shaking his head. “Nice.”
Chapter 3
At the back of the cave, the assassin who moved like a ghost waited patiently as Decimal River’s fingers played across the laptop’s glowing keyboard. At the other side of the low-ceilinged cave, Cloud Singer’s eyes flicked to the ghost woman, still wary of her despite all that had happened in the month since she had found her way back to the Original Tribe.
The woman, the assassin whose warrior name was Broken Ghost, had such an air of stillness
