Red Zone (Red Zone 1)

“Yes.”

Yep, he definitely didn’t believe her. “Are they still looking for you?”

She nodded. “There have been teams out searching, asking questions of friends and colleagues. A General Message has gone out on the public communication network, requesting information on my whereabouts.”

His lips twitched slightly, as though he were amused. “The cyber equivalent of a wanted poster.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Looks like you’re an outlaw, chère.” He sat quietly for a few moments, watching, the gun still pointed at her chest. “Let me get this straight. You’ve got Enforcement after you. CommTECH is pushing to find you. You think you slipped your tail. You somehow, mysteriously, knew how to track me down. And on top of all that—which I have to say, doesn’t reassure me, chère—you want me to smuggle you through the border, take you overland to Bolivia and make sure the Red Zone doesn’t kill you while we do it. In return for the risk, effort, and time involved in rescuing your ass, you’re offering barely enough credits to hire a shuttle. Or, I can get the unknown information stuck in your head that might be worth selling. I gotta tell you, bébé, you ain’t much of a negotiator, and that ain’t much of an offer.”

Friday fought the urge to let her shoulders droop. She wasn’t defeated yet. She’d known seeking him out was a long shot. Unfortunately, it was also her only shot. “I need to get out of here. I need to get to La Paz. Please help me. You’re my only hope.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t go all Princess Leia on me.”

“Who?”

He gave her a look that implied she was the crazy one. “Star Wars? Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope. Ring a bell?”

She stared at him blankly.

“It’s an old movie.”

Movies? She didn’t think anyone still watched those.

“Never mind.” He waved the conversation away with the muzzle of the gun. “Unless you can up your payment offer, this discussion is over.”

“I don’t have anything else to offer you.”

He stared at her for a few long minutes, considering. She refused to fidget. She was used to scrutiny. She wouldn’t crumble. At last he nodded slightly, as though coming to a decision. He leaned toward her.

“I wouldn’t say that.” His eye skimmed her body as he smiled, slow and knowing. “You do have one thing I want.”

She felt the color drain from her face as the room swayed. “You don’t mean…”

His expression was unreadable. “I want you, chère.”

Chapter Two

Striker waited for the inevitable blush to cover her face. Three, two, one…and there it was. He smirked. When he’d first come back to the former United States, he’d discovered it held only three types of women. There were the unenhanced, who were impossible to shock as they’d seen it all, done it all. The wealthy enhanced, who tended to indulge their every whim and were looking for something to shock the hell out of them. And then there were the ones like Friday Jones, who’d sold their souls to the companies and didn’t have time for anything but work. Those women, he scared the hell out of.

He tended to avoid the glassy-eyed unenhanced, but he’d had his fair share of fun with the rich women. Friday was the first little worker bee who’d intrigued him. He wasn’t sure if that was because of her hour-glass figure, her milky skin and wide blue eyes, or the way she stood in front of him, terrified, yet asking for help. Not to mention she intrigued him, purely on the merit that she’d managed to find him. He wasn’t an easy man to track down.

“You can’t mean…” she blustered at last. For a minute, he’d thought she’d turned mute.

“Mean

what, chère?”

“Mean me.” Her fair skin was a dark pink now, the flush running down into that ugly, formless jumpsuit she wore. “You can’t want me.”

“Oh, but I do.” Not for the reasons she had in mind, but it sure was entertaining to watch her think it. No, he might be a bastard, and he sure as hell had done some questionable things in his life, but he’d never forced a woman to have sex with him. And no matter what was going through Friday’s head, he wasn’t about to start now.

She gaped at him like a pretty fish stuck in an aquarium. She knew she was caught. He laid the gun on the table, within easy reach. This woman wasn’t a danger, but if she was being honest, she had a large chunk of Enforcement on her tail. If they crashed the bar, he wanted to be able to shoot his way out of trouble. Something he’d become adept at during his lifetime.

“Sit down.” It was an order. He didn’t need her fainting in front of him.

She sat slowly and cautiously, as though dazed. Long dark lashes fluttered as she stared at him.

He leaned over the table. “I want a year of your time. That’s my price. Take it or leave it.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. She licked plump, ruby-colored lips that made his cock stand to attention, and he willed it right back down. This negotiation wasn’t about sex. It was about survival.