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Contract in Blood
No where to run… With a vicious interstellar bounty hunter on his trail, smuggler Rand Faràr needs more than just a body guard. He needs the best. That would be Assassin Drake Varna. Rand is more than willing to pay Drake’s price. In fact he’s secretly looking forward to offering the Vampire both his blood and his body in sacrifice. But is he ready to give up his immortal soul?
He’d been in some low places in his time, but this seedy space bar beat them all. Rand Faràr stared at the bottle of ale between his hands and made a conscious effort not to catch the eye of the bar’s other customers. A contract of death from Bryn Gorlan was bad enough, but at least the bounty hunter would be fast and professional. These specimens looked as if they’d drag out his demise for their own entertainment. Rand took another sip. Why in the name of sanity had he agreed to meet Drake in a dive like this? Because he was desperate. Rand figured only a Vampire could protect him from Bryn Gorlan -- assuming the bloodsucker would accept Rand’s payment. Assuming Rand lived long enough to actually meet the Vamp-for-hire. By the looks that pair of Grebs over at the bar were tossing his way, Rand wasn’t sure he should count on living through the night. Rand shifted in his seat to make his laser-knife more accessible. He took another sip of the tepid ale, grimacing as he studied the ingredients listed in small print in all thirty-three commonly accepted languages. Rand was fluent in twenty of them and could cuss in another nine. With the Vampire’s help he just might live long enough to pick up a smattering of the remaining four. “Is the ale that bad?” Rand almost jumped. Hell, he knew he was on edge but… He stared at the man now sitting opposite him. “You’re Drake?” He had to be. No mortal moved that fast. The man nodded and smiled, just a slow curl of his wide mouth, but it held a suspicion of friendliness. “You were expecting more than one Vamp?” “No, but I’ve learned caution.” The Vampire leaned forward, his carbon-dark hair falling over his high forehead. “Pity you didn’t learn that before pissing off Harel Larg. Yes, I am Drake Varna.” The last four words sounded like a threat -- or a warning not to waste his time. “Thanks for coming.” “I understand you’re looking for a good assassin.” “More like a bodyguard. I already have a good assassin -- on my arse.” Drake’s teeth were very white and the canines just a little more pointed than a mortal’s. “Bryn Gorlan is good -- for a mortal.” “He’s ruthless, determined, and he wants my balls for his collection.” “And your skin for a new pair of gloves, I imagine.” Rand shuddered. Hoping he’d be dead first was no doubt asking too much. He looked up at the hot, dark eyes and the slightly-parted full lips. He swallowed. “I need you.” Drake Varna chuckled. “I presume that was a request for professional services, not a proposition. I’m looking for work. Let’s talk terms.” He leaned back in his seat. “Negotiations always progress better over a drink. How’s the ale? As bad as ever?” “I’ve had worse.” But not often. “Haven’t we all.” Drake turned his head toward the bar. The two Grebs seemed fascinated with their fingernails. Drake looked over their bent heads to catch the barkeep’s eye. Immediately, two mist-chilled bottles appeared, along with a large dish of illishels. Seemed Vamps got respect, and good service. Did they give it as readily? Drake pushed a bottle to Rand. “Drink up, and have one.” He nodded toward the curled pink shapes piled in the dish. Rand had never felt less hungry in his life, but Drake seemed insistent, and keeping the Vampire by his side was Rand’s prime goal right now. He took an illishel and bit it in two, chewing slowly, almost gagging when Drake took a handful and tossed them down his throat one by one. The taut muscles under the pale skin undulated as Drake swallowed. Rand shivered, suddenly aware that Drake knew he was watching. Watching? He was ogling like a new-tapped midshipman. Hell. This was the man he wanted to save his skin -- to keep him alive until Harel Larg’s contract expired -- the Vamp Rand hoped to hire to protect him -- not a fresh-for-sale bath boy. All Drake seemed to notice was the shiver. “Cold?” he asked. “Or scared?” “Wouldn’t you be scared if Bryn Gorlan had a contract on you?” If the killer was a fourth as good as interstellar gossip suggested, without protection Rand was a goner. “Not in the least,” Drake replied with a chuckle. “I respect him, yes. He is vicious and seldom unsuccessful.” Great. Nothing like reassurance. “What did you do to convince Harel Larg you merited the services of Gorlan?” Hadn’t Drake heard on the cyber-gossip lines? Or was he testing Rand’s truthfulness? Rand took a quick sip of ale to wet his dry mouth. “I’ve done a fair bit of business with Larg over the years. Unfortunately, on the last run a month ago, I was intercepted by a Union Excise freighter. Not wanting to spend time in a Union Penal Colony, I evaporated my cargo.” Rand shrugged. “One of the risks of the biz. Other times I’ve worked off the lost freight for the owners or come to some other agreement. Harel, the bastard, offered to accept my ship in lieu of his cargo. I got the hell off his planet. I was almost home when I got the cyber-word via the networks that I had a bounty hunter on my tail. Since I didn’t fancy my cock and balls adorning anyone’s trophy wall, I made myself scarce and came looking for you.” Did that sound pathetic? Irresponsible? Dear stars and planets, surely not whiny. Drake swallowed another handful of illishels. “How do you plan to cover my fee?” This was it. “I can pay you a thousand universal space credits today and another four thousand if I’m alive when the contract expires in three Terran days.” Dark eyebrows rose in Drake’s otherwise impassive face. “If you have five thousand credits, why pay me? Why not just repay Larg?” He’d anticipated that. “That’s my savings, against disaster or old age. I’d hoped to work off the debt with Harel Larg -- as I have with other traders by carrying other freight for free. After I heard about the bounty on me, I offered to pay. Penury in my old age seemed preferable to no old age at all, but he refused. Message was he wanted to make an example out of me.” Rand shuddered and tilted his bottle to his lips. He needed a long, cold swig, but he also needed his wits about him. He set the bottle down. “I’m offering you the money to keep Bryn Gorlan off my back.” “Kill him, you mean.” “Not necessarily. I…” “Gorlan took on the commission. He’ll complete it -- unless he’s dead.” Cold panic gnawed the places Rand rather preferred to keep attached. “Does it have to come to that?” Drake leaned across the table and grabbed the front of Rand’s zipsuit. “Don’t play the rat-brained idiot. You’re no naive farm boy off the Ravine deserts. You knew what you wanted when you called me.” The strength of Drake’s grasp pulling him across the table sent cold chills down Rand’s spine. One look into the Vamp’s dark eyes sent a warm rush of excitement straight to his cock. “Do you want me to do the job or not?” “Yes!” Drake released Rand suddenly. Rand hit the back of the seat hard. He ignored the hurt to his shoulders. “I want to know he can’t kill me.” “It’ll cost you seven thousand. Can you offer a lien on your freighter?” “To you?” He’d end up indebted for life -- but he’d have a life to look forward to. “No, thickhead. I’m not a moneylender. From a bank.” Rand shook his head as hope seeped away. Wasn’t his life savings enough? “I already have a lien on the freighter. I can’t borrow more.” “Damn shame that. We could have done business, but…” With a shrug, Drake placed his hands flat on the black pseudo-marble table and leaned forward as if to stand. Rand wasn’t giving up when he’d come so close. Hell. This was his life they were haggling over. “Wait!” He grabbed Drake’s wrist, the flesh firm and cold. “I can’t pay in credits. Five thousand is all I have, but I can offer payment in kind.” “What sort of kind?” Drake’s dark eyes watched like a hunter cat sizing up his prey. “The use of my ship if ever needed.” “I can get transport easily.” “Rapid transport without the inconvenience of excise regulations?” “I make my own regulations, smuggler-boy. Come on. Is that your best offer?” “My ship…” It was the price of penury, but he’d be alive. Drake chuckled. “A beat-up smuggler’s freighter? No deal.” He stood up and reached for a last handful of illishels. “Make me a better offer.” Luck, don’t fail me now. “I’m AB negative.” Drake’s long fingers closed over the pink crustaceans. He stared at Rand as if he’d discovered gold in a pile of dog shit. Rand barely breathed. He’d caught Drake’s interest all right. “Do you have any idea what you’re offering, mortal?” He was tempted to lie, but what was the point? When it came to Vamps he was as ignorant as a farm boy off the Ravine desert. “No, but if it means we have a deal, I’ll do it.” “No, lad. I’ll do you.”
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