Read Online StarCraft II: Devils' Due by Christie Golden - Free Book Online

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