Despite the gender, if the woman had kept struggling against him, Kane would have killed her. Instead, he threw her back against the wall, jarring the breath from her.

  Carrie the bartender smiled coldly at him "Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

  Kane nodded, close enough to her to smell the alcohol on her breath. "If you'd have chilled me, would you have eared?"

  Her eyes met his honestly. "No."

  "Me neither." Kane was definitely aware of the resilient woman's flesh pressing against his body. Her nipples were pressed against his chest and he had his thigh between her legs, keeping her shoved back against the wall. She pulled her thighs together, reminding him she was there.

  "You're a hard man," she said.

  Grinning wolfishly, Kane said, "Not even close." He pressed the .45's muzzle into the hollow of her throat, then used his free hand to search for other weapons she might be carrying. He reached into her sleeve and plucked the derringer from the holdout holster strapped to her wrist. "Where's your friend?"

  "Mebbe close by," Carrie taunted.

  Kane's search yielded nothing more than the pocket blaster. He kept his voice low enough it wouldn't travel far over the sound of the gurgling stream. "You might want to tell her to come over here," he said. "One of you two could end up chilled."

  Carrie hesitated only a moment. "Beth. Come on out before you get us chilled."

  Footsteps sounded to Kane's right. He clamped a hand around the woman's neck and yanked her from the wall, pulling her in front of him as he turned to face the other woman.

  Beth stepped from the darkness, a cut-down double-barreled shotgun in her hands. Blood smeared her face, still dribbling from a bullet that had torn through her cheek. "Mebbe I don't give a shit about getting chilled," she said, her words slurred by her injury. "Caught a bullet up there that's going to change the way I look and live, and that's an ace on the line."

  "Get your friend here chilled, too;" Kane promised. "We haven't got a lot of time here. People from upstairs are going to be downstairs pretty quick."

  "Not friends," Carrie said, and Kane figured she was reminding the injured woman more than she was telling him. "Sisters. C'mon, Beth, your face ain't so bad. We can fix it. If we can't, we'll find someone who can?'

  Silvery tears sparkled on the woman's cheeks, running to her chin on one side and mixing in the blood on the other. "Don't want to live ugly, Carrie. Ugly women only get paid for flat-backing, and me and you always agreed that wouldn't he for us. Not after the way we were raised."

  "I know," Carrie said. "I know, baby, and that's not going to happen to us. We got a good thing here. That ain't going to go away."

  "Kane," Grant called in a whisper.

  Kane nodded, knowing his friend had already stepped into the shadows. With the lanterns on around them, Grant was nowhere near invisible, but his movements remained slightly masked, just one shadow moving among others.

  Carrie stiffened in Kane's grip, and for a moment he thought she was going to warn her sister. "Big mistake," he whispered in her ear.

  "It's going to be okay, baby," Carrie coaxed. "Just put the blaster down and we'll all walk out of here. You want to do that, don't you?"

  Beth shook her head and Kane's stomach tightened, knowing the woman was over the line either from pain or shock. "No," Beth replied. "Don't give a shit at all."

  The woman raised the shotgun, and Kane knew she was going to fire. He just didn't know if Grant was going to reach her in time.

  Chapter 7

  Born a feral child of the Outlands, Domi blended into the grassy slope overlooking Brigid Baptiste's position without being seen by the woman's pursuers. She'd watched as Brigid had been discovered, then tried to break for freedom.

  If it had been her, Domi knew, she wouldn't have tried for the horse. Getting on the horse had only made a bigger target for the snipers.

  Two days ago Domi had noticed Brigid leaving the Cerberus redoubt. The young outlander had followed the woman out of boredom. Curiosity had never been a big issue with Domi. Too often curiosity killed not only the cat but everything around it.

  She lay on her stomach in the grass, feeling the noonday heat bake into her back, warming muscle that had been tempted into turning lethargic until the first blaster shots sounded. When she saw the horse rear and drop like a rock, she was sure Brigid hadn't been hit.

  The snake diving at Brigid's chest was a surprise. Domi thought the woman had driven it away after the first attack. She watched it now, coiling around Brigid, hanging on where it had bitten the woman.

  The gunmen closed the distance. Donald Bry sat astride his horse at the edge of the forest, looking up apprehensively but making no move to help Brigid.

  Domi didn't really blame the little man. She figured Brigid was already dead. Plus, it didn't look as if Bry had been out in the wilderness on business that Lakesh would approve of, and his newfound friends definitely wouldn't have appreciated his interest in what they perceived as a threat or an enemy.

  Lying still m the grass, Domi knew she couldn't be seen. Albino by birth, her skin was normally pale as creamed milk. Since being in the wild, she'd taken care to cover her exposed skin with a mixture of berry and grass juices that kept most insects away. She'd scrubbed in dirt to give her skin more color, reverting to savage

  Her bone-white hair was wilder than normal because she'd braided broken twigs with green leaves to disguise most of the color. She was every inch of five feet tall and weighed a hundred pounds that her slight, curvy figure belied. Her eyes were grim ruby drops of blood.

  She'd left her own horse nearly a half mile back. After discovering where Brigid was spying on Bry, Domi had taken the horse back so it wouldn't whicker and give her presence away. She knew more about hiding and spying than Brigid did.

  The snake continued crawling around Brigid, constricting her.

  Cursing, Domi pulled the M-14 rifle from the ground beside her and brought it to her shoulder. It was a duplicate to the one Grant had chosen to take with him. The blaster had a matte black finish, and she kept it below the line of underbrush.

  She tracked the three men as they continued leapfrogging up the hill, taking turns providing cover fire for one another. still lying prone, the young albino sighted on the lead man through the open sights, then kept both eyes open as she moved up to the sniper scope. Experience told her that she had to aim under her target to properly hit it when aiming

  Breathing in, Domi put the crosshairs over the center of the lead gunman's chest. She breathed out half a breath as Grant had taught her, held it, then squeezed the trigger.

  The heavy rifle stock slammed back into her shoulder. The joint twinged in protest. Months back, a bullet had destroyed the bone. DeFore had replaced the shoulder joint with an artificial ball and socket. After long weeks of painful therapy, Domi had returned to full strength. However, impacts against the joint still caused occasional pain.

  The bullet caught the gunman high, ripping through his throat just below his chin and lifting him from his feet. Domi saw the bright scarlet blossom on his neck just before he dropped into the brush. By that time she was already focusing on the second gunman. She squeezed the trigger, knowing at that distance the sound of the first shot would reach the gunmen only a heartbeat ahead of her second shot.

  She'd deliberately aimed even lower, adjusting from the first shot and knowing the man would automatically go to ground. She watched the man through the scope, spotting the telltale shudder that told her the bullet had struck him

  A handful of rounds from the third gunner raked the trees. None of them were close. The gunner didn't have her position. She stayed with the second man, spotting him crawling through the brush. Her next round slammed through the man's back and nailed him to the ground. If he wasn't dead, the man wasn't going to survive the perforated lung.

  The third man broke from cover and ran for the hidden wag, where the man Bry had met sat behind the wheel.

  As the man climbed into the wag and it took off, Domi glanced at Bry. The computer specialist hesitated, over controlling the horse and causing it to turn circles beneath him. Then whatever war he fought within himself was decided, and he kicked the horse in the flanks, charging through the forest away from Brigid.

  Maybe Bry hadn't known who'd been spying on him, Domi told herself, but the man had to have been able to guess that it was someone from Cerberus. She fed new cartridges into the M-14's magazine, then slipped it back into the weapon.

  Once the sound of the wag had disappeared, only silence reigned in the forest.

  Rising as gracefully as a leopard, the young albino jogged down the hill, dropping in controlled slides down the steep areas. The mutie snake heard her coming and coiled protectively around Brigid's limp body. The wedge-shaped head rose high from the ground, and the massive jaws opened.

  Domi locked eyes with the snake, a chill threading down her spine. She approached the creature at a normal gait, dropping the M-14 as she closed.

  Brigid was unconscious or dead, her skin tone already turning blue.

  Ignoring the Detonics .45 holstered at her hip, Domi reached down and drew the knife from the sheath tied to her right calf. The blade was long and wickedly serrated, a memento she'd kept when she'd been Guana Teague's sex slave for six months in the Cobaltville Pits. She'd sold herself into slavery in an effort to get a piece of the good life available to vile dwellers. In the end she'd cut Teague's throat with the blade.

  Domi kept walking toward the snake, both hands in front of her and spread out to the sides. She focused totally on the snake's movements. There was no choice about heading into the snake's attack. If she tried to hold back, to keep herself prepared to dodge to one side or the other, her reflexes wouldn't be as fluid as she needed them to be.

  When Domi was less than four feet from the snake and its prey, the snake struck.

  The young albino slapped out with her free hand, catching the wedge-shaped head behind the gaping jaws on the inside of the strike and pushing her attacker aside. She thrust the knife, sinking it deeply into the thickly muscled neck. As the snake tried to twist, Domi yanked the knife. The serrated edge sliced the throat open, releasing a rush of blood.

  Domi blocked the head again, then watched as death claimed the huge creature Paroxysms shivered through the snake as the head thumped against the ground. The rest of the body coiled and uncoiled.

  Moving quickly, Domi grabbed Brigid and pulled her free. Unable to carry the woman, the young albino dragged her several feet away from the flopping snake coils. She laid the woman down and placed her fingers against the side of her neck.

  The pulse was thready and weak. Thrusting her arm out, Domi found that Brigid's breath barely moved the hairs on her arm.

  Domi cursed again, cursing Brigid, Bry and her own bad luck at coming. She examined the woman, searching for the bite marks she knew had to be there. She sliced through Brigid's shirt buttons and pulled the garment open.

  The fang marks stood out in livid purple against the pale flesh of Brigid's breast. Blood streaks ran from the bite marks and across her flat stomach.

  Taking a deep breath, Domi pushed back one of Brigid's eyelids. The eye was rolled back in her head, only the bloodshot white showing.

  "DOMI'S WITH BRIGID," DeFore announced. She knew Lakesh could read the information himself, could see the two transponder signals almost on top of each other now, but it felt better just to be saying it.

  Lakesh nodded. "Then we can hope for the best."

  "Hope for the best?" DeFore echoed his words in disbelief. She turned on him "Lakesh, we need to get a team out there."

  "By the time you could get there, it will already be too late," Lakesh said "You've already said that."

  "If she survives, she's still going to need medical attention."

  "Which she'll get as soon as she arrives here."

  "You mean if."

  Lakesh's voice hardened. "I mean when. That's what I said, my dear DeFore."

  "Why did you call me up here?" DeFore demanded. "You knew there was nothing I could do from here."

  "I didn't know." Lakesh turned his attention back to the computer workstation, flicking quickly through the sec menu.

  The program accessed the motion detectors around the Cerberus redoubt, the sec cams, as well as the heat sensors.

  "You goddam well did know," DeFore accused. "You just didn't want to be up here by yourself in case Brigid bought it on your shift because of something you did."

  "That will be enough." Lakesh's voice was sharp. "I'll not speak again on this matter."

  Frustrated, knowing she was well past her own lines of control, DeFore turned and walked toward the door. "If you need me again," she snarled, "I'll be in the infirmary, helping the people that I'm allowed to help."

  "Sarcasm doesn't become you," Lakesh chided.

  "Perhaps not, but it makes me feel better."

  "We must be patient," Lakesh said. "We must trust darlingest Domi to care for Brigid until we are able."

  "We're talking about anaphylactic shock," DeFore called from the door. "That's more than Brigid just having an upset stomach or PMS. She's been hurt bad. And trusting Domi to handle a medical emergency is really low on the list of things I want to do."

  Lakesh crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the computer screens.

  Without another word, DeFore stomped out of the room. She'd called it right about Lakesh's reluctance to stay there alone if Brigid died, and she knew it. But there was more involved than just Brigid. DeFore knew that, too. Lakesh was too focused, too cold for nothing to be going on.

  She headed down the dimmed hall, deciding that Collins could wait a few minutes more. There was a stop she intended to make on the way back to the infirmary.

  KANE SHOVED Carrie over and down. The double-barreled shotgun discharged over their heads. Pellets ricocheted from the walls, striking sparks, and thunder cannoned through the me. He landed on top of the woman and swung the .45 toward her sister. By rights the shotgun would be empty, but if Beth tried to reload, he intended to drop her.

  Grant charged from the darkness as Beth broke open the weapon, sending the empty casings spinning. She took two fresh rounds from an ammo pouch on her hip. Before she could seat them, Grant stepped beside her and backhanded the woman hard enough to knock her from her feet.

  Carrie screeched and clawed at Kane's face. "Don't hurt her, Goddammit! Don't you dare!"

  Kane caught the woman's flailing hand, pinning her with his body. "She's not dead. Just unconscious." He pushed himself to his feet and yanked her up, as well. "How do we get out of here?" He raked the wavering shadows with his gaze, finding Remar easily.

  "Company's coming," Remar said, nodding at the stairs.

  Fear filled Carrie's face. She glanced at her unconscious sister, no longer the tough woman who'd killed the man who'd insulted her just a short time ago. "I'm not leaving my sister."

  "You're not leaving her," Grant growled. "We're not leaving her." He reached down and easily picked up the small woman, draping her over one broad shoulder. "Now show us where the damn door is."

  Carrie ran, leading them past a gasoline generator that Kane assumed was used to pump water into the gaudy proper. The stream in the middle of the floor stayed underground, disappearing under the wall Carrie led them to.

  "Where's the rest of the gaudy staff?" Kane asked. He'd never looked into the kitchen adjoining the main room, but he'd assumed the small boy who'd carried the bucket of sand to clean up the desert rat's blood hadn't been alone.

  "There's another tunnel that feeds off the kitchen," Carrie answered. "The gaudy was designed so we wouldn't be trapped with only one way out. A small system of tunnels runs through the cliff the gaudy is built into." She stopped near the lantern on the wall and took a torch from an oil-stained box. She lifted the lantern's hurricane glass and lit the torch.

  "You could take the lantern," Kane said.

  As the gold flames spread along the torch, Carrie shot him a look of reproach. "Lanterns break, and they're expensive. After this blows over, we'll be back." She shoved the torch forward and followed it to a line of carved steps leading opposite the gaudy.

  "Who owns this place?" Kane already had his suspicions. He reached into the box of torches and took one out for himself, lighting it quickly from the lantern. The light spread over the uneven cavern roof above, leaving dimples of shadows that pockmarked the surface.

  "Me and Beth." Carrie walked up the steps. "Old man Tyson died three years back. His health had been failing for a long time. This place sells liquor and food, and passable entertainment from time to time, not personality. Old man Tyson's long suit was never personality. If it wasn't for the scrip the traders and miners brought in, he would have just as soon been shut of them."

  Kane followed the woman up the narrow stairs. The edges of the steps were so worn they were rounded. Coupled with the small surface available, walking on them was tricky. Judging from the layout of the cavern and the presence of the tunnels Carrie had mentioned, he guessed that the place had once been a mine that had petered out long ago, perhaps even before skydark.

  "Me and Beth found Tyson dead in bed in one of the upstairs rooms," Carrie went on. "We didn't mention it to nobody. Just buried his ass down in the cave and went on with business as usual. We've done okay for ourselves."

  "Until today," Remar said from behind Kane.

  Kane glanced at the man, then past him, seeing Grant walking with the unconscious woman riding on his shoulder. The big man carried the extra weight as if it were nothing.

  "Tyson's been chased off before," Carrie stated. "Ain't the first time folks have brought their problems to our doors.

  We've gone away for a few days, then come back and set up shop again."

 

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