As Sheriff of Bohrne Station, Ramazan’s job was keeping the peace. Not just on his deck, but also in his corner of Laurentia, and sometimes beyond. Anything that threatened that had to be dealt with.
This tall, blond, so-called Ambassador from the Dominion might as well have had Threat tattooed on her skin. She was like one of those insects where the bright colors are there as a warning to predators that they are poisonous. Toxic. Whatever the term was.
Lethal.
She had adjusted her persona by the time he got her into his office and got the door closed. Gone was the hard woman filled with bluster, cash, and demands. Something softer had taken up residence instead.
Ramazan had no doubts that the former was more likely to be her actual personality, but he could adapt as well. It wasn’t as though she was going to be around long.
If she really wanted to seduce him for information that a few hours digging in a computer system elsewhere might uncover, who was he to argue? She was not an unattractive woman, if you liked them tall and muscular.
He had been a widower long enough to appreciate all kinds.
“When last you were here…” Ramazan began as they settled.
“When last I was here, I did things in an unfortunate, undiplomatic manner, Sheriff,” she cut him off politely but seriously.
Not a woman going for half-measures today.
“Oh?”
“Longshot Hypothesis was here and I let my anger get the better of me,” she said, leaning back into her chair in a way that somehow conveyed innocuousness. “I had hoped that my quest was over and I could quickly return home.”
“And they fled,” he noted, willing to probe the woman mentally. “Not just you, but your authority. Why was that?”
Ramazan was an expert poker player. He didn’t use those skills at the table all that often, unless compelled, but he could read most people better than they could themselves.
Whatever she was about to say was going to be an interesting blend of truth and lies, mixed together well enough that nobody would probably be able to separate them later.
He smiled at her as she leaned forward and drew a breath.
“Dave Hall was formerly a member of the Dominion Household,” she said quietly. “I won’t demand that such information never leave this office, because I’m not a fool. Sheriff. He betrayed me and killed the Dominator. The government sent me after him because hell itself won’t be far enough for that man to escape me.”
Ramazan nodded. He had suspected Tarasicodissa and Hall had bigger problems than they had let on, especially from the way Valentinian and his first mate had danced obliquely around the subject before, telling him he was better off not knowing the truth, lest more assassins come.
Briefly, Ramazan wondered if he would have to face such trouble, over and above the hard men and women that occasionally called on his station.
“Killed the Dominator?” Ramazan confirmed, letting some level of wonder into his voice anyway, just to see what she said. “He’s the assassin?”
“He is,” she growled in a quiet, angry voice. “I imagine that makes him a national hero in Laurentia, except that the old Dominator knew better than to attack you, and the new one might not learn those lessons for a while.”
Ramazan nodded in turn. Laurentia was one of the Dominion’s closest neighbors, and relations had been hot and cold over the centuries. The new Dominator might take a dim view of Bohrne Station hosting their prey, however briefly and innocently.
However, Ramazan was reasonably sure that Valentinian wasn’t coming back to this side of Wildspace for a few decades, if ever. Precisely because of this woman seated across from him. And what she represented
Hell indeed hath no fury.
“They’re gone,” Ramazan said after a moment of political contemplation.
He liked the kid. Respected that Valentinian was truly trying to do the right thing with a bad hand, rather than just folding his cards and pulling up stakes. Hopefully, they had already run far enough to put this woman off their trail.
Or could outrun her some more.
He didn’t want this praying mantis on his deck, either. Not one second longer than he had to have her.
Still, there was money to be made.
Besides that, Stephaneria was still supremely pissed at Tarasicodissa for just abandoning her here, despite what his niece had called several near seductions. He’d even seen one of them.
Ramazan couldn’t find it in himself to blame the lad. Three women, all smart and attractive, any one of whom would have been more than amenable to a tumble.
If he wanted to alienate the other two.
In the end, Valentinian had probably done the only thing he could and hired himself a professional companion for the evening.
But Stephaneria took it hard. Forty-four, divorced, and competing with women much younger for the attentions of eligible men.
“They are gone, yes,” the woman said. “But someone on this station might know where they went.”
“I might have a few ideas, myself,” Ramazan said. “And know a few others with clues. Why should we help?”
That broke through her shell. Like perhaps she had been considering her own suggestion of a tumble and suddenly had a reason to make it business as well. She leaned forward in such a way that a simple blouse probably would have shown off an ample amount of cleavage, were she not engulfed in those robes.
Still, he had seen her before, dressed less formally. He could imagine.
“How far have they run?” she guessed fairly accurately, a slight grin settling on her features.
“Deep into Wildspace,” Ramazan grinned back.
“And they’ll never pass back through this sector, will they?”
“That was my understanding, last time I spoke with the group of them,” Ramazan obliged. “Didn’t get all the answers I was looking for. You’ve given me some of them.”
“Dave Hall was my husband, Sheriff,” she said simply, letting some of her ice melt to show the woman underneath. “His betrayal becomes mine by extension. I can never go back to the Dominion either. Not really. They might pension me off and forget about me within a month if I’m lucky. I’ll never have what I did before.”
Ramazan let his eyes roam over her face, her concealed figure, his mind filling in the details from before. Truly a physically impressive woman. Perhaps a touch too much cruelty in the face and hands, but this woman was never a simpering innocent.
Her air changed as she watched him watching her. The hard edges were still there, but she did something to soften them. Made herself less of a statue and more of a woman.
“There are other things I might seek,” she said after a second. “Personal things entirely separate from matters of state. My husband and I had grown aloof from one another, and no other man would dare approach me. Even today.”
“Separate from matters of state?” Ramazan asked in a light tone, listening to the sudden huskiness in her voice.
“Bribes are just for information,” she replied with a hint of a smile. “We might talk of other things as well.”
She leaned forward again, seducing him with only her eyes.
“After all, I’ll depart here once I have the trail, and probably never return,” she offered, one hand suddenly resting in the middle of his desk, palm up.
He knew that for what it was. This woman was trapped in that same celibacy that the Sheriff of Bohrne Station fell into. In his case, it was easier to just watch and not involve himself with any of the lovely women that lived here. If he occasionally engaged with strangers passing through, those were his off-hours.
The Ambassador would never have off-hours if she was part of the Dominion’s inner workings. But one niggling thought crept into the back of his head as he held out a hand and she took it.
Her skin was warm.
The only reason Ramazan could think of that no man would dare touch a woman like her was if her husband was somebody other than a mere soldier like Dave Hall. He might need to be the Dominator himself to command that sort of deadly power. And she had said Matters of State. That suggested Hall had been high in the government himself.
But she had not been lying about the man. The rage in her eyes was that of a wife betrayed.
He just hoped those boys had gotten a good, running start, because he wasn’t about to keep this woman around here any longer than necessary.
The only way all this made any sense was if Dave Hall had actually been the Dominator himself. That thought was insane, but it was the one thing that explained all those little details he had picked up along the way from all the players involved.
Ramazan rose from his chair and somehow found this woman pressed hungrily up against him as he moved halfway around his desk. He kissed the woman, knowing that he could carve out a few hours of pleasure for himself, and that she would never come back.
Ramazan didn’t like trouble on his deck.