Motherlode by James Axler Page A

to answer. And if you care about the people, or anything but your pussy-selling profits and your own pretty little pale ass, you’ll think twice before you do answer. Unless mebbe it’s time to set up a proper baron here, and cut through the bullshit?”
    Dark Lady’s face was whiter and tighter than usual. She obviously deemed that a rhetorical question, and not requiring an answer. She showed no sign of backing down, even to a much larger, deliberately brutal man and his two coldheart pals. Indeed she looked even less intimidated than she had when they had first seen her, having a rude patron pitched into the street by her two-headed giant.
    That patron was standing behind the bar right now, rubbing it with a rag and not looking directly at the intruders.
    “You hired yourself a bunch of no-account mercies from the outlands to run some errands for you,” the blond man said, leaning closer. “Well, they shit the bed. They’re all out of Newcombe Flats’ privileges. Nukefire, they’re out of life privileges. So you want to give them up nice and sweet.”
    As he reached out to take her chin, she reached a black-lace-gauntleted hand up and steered his away.
    “So that’s the way you like it? Playing rough?” He laughed. “Listen, sweet cheeks, it doesn’t have to be that way. Diego can be generous too. But if you cross him, you are seriously screwed.”
    Diego . That was the name of the Crazy Dogs’ boss, all right. Ryan flicked a gesture to his companions to get ready to rock and roll. He eased open his coat to free up the SIG-Sauer and his panga. The companions had left their packs cached outside the ville, but he, J.B. and Ricky still carried their longblasters slung.
    Mikey, the better-looking head, lifted his down-turned face just enough to catch Ryan’s eye. He gave his head a single shake. His twin kept staring down and polishing the bar as if he meant to wear a hole in it.
    Interesting, Ryan thought. That was the impulsive member of the team. If he was telling Ryan to hold off...
    With a slight raise of the two front fingers of his left hand, Ryan passed the signal for his companions to stay out of it. For now, he didn’t need to tell them.
    “Tell Diego,” Dark Lady said in a surprisingly business-like tone, “that it is you and he who have worn out their privileges in Newcombe Flats. And especially in this ville. Now leave and never return. Unless you mean to stay forever.”
    This time Pelt Boy put back his head and laughed uproariously. “Then it’s gonna be forever,” he said, clearly missing the import of her words.
    “And now—”
    He moved with sidewinder speed, grabbing the wrist of the right hand she’d used to deflect his, stepping past her to put his back to the bar and spinning her into an armlock.
    “I’m gonna knock some sense into you right here in your own bar,” he said, and suddenly he was holding a huge Bowie blade-first against her slender white throat and grinding his crotch into her rump. “Then mebbe I’ll have a taste of your own sweet self before I turn you over for free to anybody who wants to try you out. I hear you’re too high and mighty to peddle your own sweet thing. And after that, if you see reason, mebbe I’ll settle for cutting your pretty face some, and not your throat.”
    Ryan saw Dark Lady’s left hand push behind her back as if to join its captive mate.
    Yellow-white light flashed to either side of her wide skirts at hip height. A muffled bang sounded.
    The blond Crazy Dog’s blue eyes stood out of his head. The knife fell from his fingers. He bent over as Dark Lady tore herself out of his grasp.
    Even through a dense coating of various filth and stains, Ryan could see the crotch of his jeans was spreading with a stain as if he were pissing himself. Except Ryan knew that wasn’t piss, and the grimy fabric was smoldering. He smelled burned propellant.
    “I told you not to call me that,” Dark Lady said, raising the hidie blaster in her left