Mindee Arnett - Proxy

Then Jeth remembered the blood. Burner blood. An Odyssey addiction. Hammer had banned the substance, but there were plenty of other crime lords in the universe who hadn’t. And turning over a prize like the Grakkian Ruby might be enough for Danforth to buy his way into the good graces of one of Hammer’s rivals.

Jeth shook his head, still struggling with disbelief. “But how are you doing this? You didn’t know you were going to come on this job.”

“Do you really think something like a replacement tech would keep me away from this prize?”

A chill skidded down Jeth’s spine. If Danforth had done something to harm their last tech, just to take his place on this job, what else would he do?

“But don’t worry,” Danforth was saying. “Your sister is fine. I only shut her inside one of the barrels. She’s perfectly safe. For now .”

Jeth swallowed. “What do you want from me?”

“Simple. Finish the job.”

Jeth bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. His mind spun as he tried to think of a way out. “Don’t go through with this. It’s not too late. I’ll make sure Liz doesn’t say anything. We’ll finish the job and turn the stone over to Hammer.”

“No.” A chilling certainty colored Danforth’s voice. “Hammer doesn’t win. Not this time. I’m done with him owning me. I’ll do what I want with my life, my body.”

My body . Jeth wondered if Hammer had found out about the Odyssey. Such an infraction might be something Hammer would forgive, at least once. But there would be consequences—like banishment to the coal mines on Gallant Prime. Such an environment should’ve made it easier for Danforth to quit the drug, but he hadn’t.

“Come on,” Jeth pressed. “This is your last chance, and you know it.”

“No,” Danforth said again. “Finish your part now or I’ll kill her.”

Icy daggers seemed to prick Jeth’s skin from his neck to the tops of his feet. He believed Danforth completely. Odyssey users were prone to violent outbursts and wild manic frenzies. And Jeth understood that no matter how rational Danforth sounded, he was no longer a sane man. They said Odyssey liquefied the brain. Sometimes slowly and sometimes all at once.

Jeth drew a breath, unwilling to give up without a fight. “I might be all the way up here, but the rest of the crew can still get to you.”

“Ah, but you’re assuming I haven’t already taken care of them as well.”

“Impossible. You need their help.” Jeth knew with absolute certainty that Danforth wasn’t about to go down into the sewers. He might not know the meaning of the word soap, but he didn’t like to get his hands dirty.

“Now you’re assuming that I’m working alone.”

Another shiver went through Jeth, but he refused to believe the implication. “You’re bluffing.”

“Perhaps, but every second you delay, the risk of getting caught goes up. The fireworks won’t last forever, you know.”

“If I play along,” Jeth said, “how do I know you won’t hurt her afterward? How do I know you won’t leave me trapped up here?”

“You don’t. But Jeth, this really isn’t personal. I have little interest in you or your crew, but I will kill anyone who gets in the way.”

“I—” Jeth broke off as a click echoed behind him. He turned toward the sound, his jaw slackening at the sight that greeted him. Beautiful, rich Aileen stood across from him, wrists no longer bound, pointing the barrel of a Luke 357 at him. Her hands were steady, and her chilling aloofness was all the evidence he needed to know that this wasn’t the first time she’d held a gun on someone.

A sly, sensuous smile stretched across her lips, that devilish glint in her eyes. “Danforth isn’t lying. He’s not working alone.”

TIME SEEMED TO SLOW, STRETCHING OUT AROUND JETH AS his incredulity mounted. He couldn’t fathom it. How had this girl gotten here? How did she know Danforth? And how had she managed to smuggle in that gun?

Aileen spoke, and time snapped back into its normal pace. “Head that way.” She indicated the direction with a nudge of the gun. “Your part in the plan stays the same.”

Furious to find the situation reversed, Jeth considered half a dozen ways to wrest the gun from her. But in all of them, he saw himself getting shot. He couldn’t cover the distance between himself and Aileen quickly enough.

Jeth turned and headed toward the door she had indicated, racking his brain for a solution while Danforth made a show of introducing his new partner through the comm.

Anger thrummed through Jeth. His dislike for the man turned to hatred, black and intoxicating. With an effort, he pushed the emotions away, trying desperately to keep cool. He needed to stay focused, now more than ever. This is a job , he told himself. One that’s gone sideways. Think your way out . It sounded easy in his head, but impossible in his heart as Lizzie’s name kept pounding inside him.

The door opened onto the bathroom, which was surprisingly tame in decor compared to the rest of the suite.

“You know what to do,” Aileen said. “But make sure you take it easy with that wrench. I promise I can shoot you faster than you can throw it.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Jeth said as he stooped next to the toilet. Other than its gilded edges and golden handle, there was nothing special about it—it was a toilet like any other. Same with its plumbing, a design that hadn’t changed in probably a thousand years of human innovation, Jeth thought. He set the ruby on the floor, still wrapped in the pillowcase, and then with both hands, he turned the valve to the water pipe, shutting off the flow. Once done, he fitted the wrench over the first of the bolts on the toilet’s base.

In seconds he had the bolts off. He glanced up at Aileen, whose position hadn’t changed. She must be stronger than she looked to hold the gun aloft for so long without tiring. A 357 was on the smaller side, but still heavy enough. He never should have underestimated her.

“Unless you fancy getting wet,” said Jeth, “you might want to stand back.”

Aileen wrinkled her nose. “What’s the point? You’ve already ruined my dress.”

“Suit yourself.” Jeth slid his hands around the widest part of the toilet and then hoisted the whole thing into the air. Water gushed out, dousing his legs and shoes. The spray hit Aileen, and she skirted backward, gasping at the cold. She also lowered the gun. It was just a few centimeters, but that was all he needed.

With an almighty heave, Jeth threw the toilet at her. It fell short, but the spray of debris as the porcelain shattered did the trick well enough. Jeth leaped over the wreckage and seized Aileen’s wrist before she could react. She was definitely stronger than she looked, he discovered, struggling to overpower her.

She also knew a thing or two about hand-to-hand fighting, as she first stomped on his toes and then landed a punch to his gut. If she’d been a little bit bigger, it might’ve worked. But Jeth held on, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. A second later he had the gun in his hand and, with no small amount of relish, he jabbed the barrel against her breastbone, hard enough that she choked on a gasp.

Somewhere, in the deepest, darkest part of him a voice screamed: Kill her now . Even worse, that dark part of him wanted to do it with a cold, logical yearning. It would make the most sense, solve a massive problem in one quick, efficient blow. For a second, he even saw himself doing it, one squeeze of his index finger and it would be over. At this range, they would have to scrape pieces of her off the floor afterward.

Disgusted with himself, Jeth drew a breath. “There’s been a change of plans, Danforth. That is, unless Aileen intended for me to get ahold of her gun. You should pick your crew better next time.”