Read Online StarCraft II: Devils' Due by Christie Golden - Free Book Online
Authors: Christie Golden
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mustache. Rumor
had it they were stil planetside. He didn’t think they
had any vessels. Sooner or later they would be too
cocky, or forget about some key element, or trust the
wrong person.
And then he would have them.
He opened the door to his office and blinked in
surprise. A woman was standing there, her back to
him, silhouetted by the window. It was an enticing
silhouette: she had a perfect hourglass figure, a short
skirt, and long legs. As she heard the door open, she
turned around and stepped away from the window.
Butler swal owed hard. Her face was exquisite, with
pale skin, high cheekbones, and green eyes. Red hair
tumbled down her shoulders. Her breasts strained
against the buttons of her dress as if the fabric were a
hated jailer. Her legs seemed to go on forever and
ended in dainty feet in stiletto heels. She smiled at
him, ful red lips parting to reveal even white teeth.
“Uh …,” he managed, “may I help you, miss?”
The smile widened. She put her purse on the desk,
moved over toward him with the grace of a big cat,
and closed the door.
“I don’t—”
She turned around and draped her arms about his
neck, smiling up at him. Her perfume made him
slightly giddy.
“My name’s Daisy,” she said, in a sultry voice, “and
I am here al morning because those two fine,
upstanding gentlemen, Tychus Findlay and James
Raynor, felt that you should have some kind of …
recompense … for your stolen little ships.”
Butler swore, firmly removed her hands from his
shoulders, and pushed her away as he raced for his
desk. He slammed a hand down on the intercom, and
his cultured voice was heard throughout the station.
“This is Marshal Butler. Al officers available, to the
depot. Now.”
Daisy sighed as he raced past her out the door.
Halfway out, Butler paused, stuck his head back in,
and fixed her with an intense gaze.
“Stay right here.” Her knowing laughter fol owed him
out. He ignored her.
Raynor and Findlay. Damn their eyes.
By the time he got there and had hopped off his
hoverbike, al the officers in the area had been alerted
and had arrived. The building’s alarms were wailing,
and the poor fel ow whose job it was to open up in the
morning looked like he was waiting to be shot in the
head.
Butler would have liked to have obliged, but he
wanted to shoot Raynor and Findlay even more.
Besides, on this planet, men who were wil ing to work
on the right side of the law for the paltry sum of credits
the government parsimoniously doled out were few
and far between. He couldn’t lose any of them—not
even the idiots.
He didn’t waste time with “What happened here?”
or even “How did they get in?” The answer to the first
he already knew, and the answer to the second was
irrelevant at the moment. Instead he asked, “What did
they get?”
“Two planet-hoppers, sir,” the man said. He looked
slightly less nervous, but only slightly.
“Damn it.” Now they did have ships.
“Any leads, sir?” asked his deputy, Rett Coolidge.
Rett had the distinction of being the last one Findlay
had injured in the recent chase and had come
perilously close to losing a certain part of his anatomy
that most males were extremely partial to.
Butler smiled bitterly beneath his mustache.
“Tychus Find-lay and Jim Raynor,” he said.
Rett swore violently. “What makes you say that? Not
that I don’t believe it.”
“They had the audacity to send a girl to serve as
‘recompense.’” It was real y too bad he couldn’t have
the girl arrested. While prostitution—at least by that
name—wasn’t legal on New Sydney, exotic dancing,
right down to performing buck naked, was. And she
hadn’t said that she was offering her body. She likely
would, when questioned, say that Jim and Tychus had
hired her to go “dance” for the good marshal. But
she’d have to be one hel of a dancer for her
performance to pay for two planet-hoppers.
“Go to
had it they were stil planetside. He didn’t think they
had any vessels. Sooner or later they would be too
cocky, or forget about some key element, or trust the
wrong person.
And then he would have them.
He opened the door to his office and blinked in
surprise. A woman was standing there, her back to
him, silhouetted by the window. It was an enticing
silhouette: she had a perfect hourglass figure, a short
skirt, and long legs. As she heard the door open, she
turned around and stepped away from the window.
Butler swal owed hard. Her face was exquisite, with
pale skin, high cheekbones, and green eyes. Red hair
tumbled down her shoulders. Her breasts strained
against the buttons of her dress as if the fabric were a
hated jailer. Her legs seemed to go on forever and
ended in dainty feet in stiletto heels. She smiled at
him, ful red lips parting to reveal even white teeth.
“Uh …,” he managed, “may I help you, miss?”
The smile widened. She put her purse on the desk,
moved over toward him with the grace of a big cat,
and closed the door.
“I don’t—”
She turned around and draped her arms about his
neck, smiling up at him. Her perfume made him
slightly giddy.
“My name’s Daisy,” she said, in a sultry voice, “and
I am here al morning because those two fine,
upstanding gentlemen, Tychus Findlay and James
Raynor, felt that you should have some kind of …
recompense … for your stolen little ships.”
Butler swore, firmly removed her hands from his
shoulders, and pushed her away as he raced for his
desk. He slammed a hand down on the intercom, and
his cultured voice was heard throughout the station.
“This is Marshal Butler. Al officers available, to the
depot. Now.”
Daisy sighed as he raced past her out the door.
Halfway out, Butler paused, stuck his head back in,
and fixed her with an intense gaze.
“Stay right here.” Her knowing laughter fol owed him
out. He ignored her.
Raynor and Findlay. Damn their eyes.
By the time he got there and had hopped off his
hoverbike, al the officers in the area had been alerted
and had arrived. The building’s alarms were wailing,
and the poor fel ow whose job it was to open up in the
morning looked like he was waiting to be shot in the
head.
Butler would have liked to have obliged, but he
wanted to shoot Raynor and Findlay even more.
Besides, on this planet, men who were wil ing to work
on the right side of the law for the paltry sum of credits
the government parsimoniously doled out were few
and far between. He couldn’t lose any of them—not
even the idiots.
He didn’t waste time with “What happened here?”
or even “How did they get in?” The answer to the first
he already knew, and the answer to the second was
irrelevant at the moment. Instead he asked, “What did
they get?”
“Two planet-hoppers, sir,” the man said. He looked
slightly less nervous, but only slightly.
“Damn it.” Now they did have ships.
“Any leads, sir?” asked his deputy, Rett Coolidge.
Rett had the distinction of being the last one Findlay
had injured in the recent chase and had come
perilously close to losing a certain part of his anatomy
that most males were extremely partial to.
Butler smiled bitterly beneath his mustache.
“Tychus Find-lay and Jim Raynor,” he said.
Rett swore violently. “What makes you say that? Not
that I don’t believe it.”
“They had the audacity to send a girl to serve as
‘recompense.’” It was real y too bad he couldn’t have
the girl arrested. While prostitution—at least by that
name—wasn’t legal on New Sydney, exotic dancing,
right down to performing buck naked, was. And she
hadn’t said that she was offering her body. She likely
would, when questioned, say that Jim and Tychus had
hired her to go “dance” for the good marshal. But
she’d have to be one hel of a dancer for her
performance to pay for two planet-hoppers.
“Go to
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