Deep Deception Read online

  “I’ll take the bed over here.” Natalia tossed her bags on the thin mattress. She turned around. “Unless you have a preference?”

  The bed on the left was a meter or so closer to the door than the other. Gennie eyed each bed and grinned at her new roommate. “No, that’s fine.”

  Natalia sat on the bed. The frame squeaked but seemed sturdy enough. She crossed her long legs and folded her hands over her knee. “You want to know why we’re in the same room.”

  Sitting on her own cot less than two meters away, Gennie mirrored Natalia’s pose. “I think I already do.”

  Her only response was the lifting of a dark blond eyebrow. There were things Natalia Hallowell kept hidden behind carefully controlled expressions and movements, and Gennie had the overwhelming desire to ferret out every single one of her secrets.

  On the other hand, she had secrets of her own. Risking exposure wasn’t worth satisfying her curiosity about Natalia.

  “We’ll need to discuss the investigation without anyone wondering why we spend so much time together.” Gennie leaned forward, gaze locked on Natalia. “But mostly, you want to keep an eye on me.”

  “You were reluctant to come here. You’re not exactly high on my trust and reliability list.” Natalia tilted her head slightly. “Do you blame me?”

  “Not at all. But once I make a promise, any promise, I don’t go back on it.” Gennie rose. “I’ll see this through. You can count on that. Now let’s get some dinner. I’m starving.”

  * * *

  Natalia and Gennie arrived at the dining hall toward the end of the evening meal. Times were posted for fresh-cooked fare, but boxed meals in a credit-operated cooler could be purchased any time and reheated. There was also the option of purchasing food at the company store and cooking in your room. Most pirq miners took advantage of having someone else cook and clean up for them after a long, back-breaking shift in the void.

  A dozen men and women sat in pairs or trios at the square tables. A couple of loners read as they ate, flicking the screens of their comms to the next page between bites. One held a tattered paper book. It was rare to see a synth paper volume, considering the nomadic ways of the pirqs. Sticks or downloads made for lighter travel. Maybe Grand Meridian had a lending library.

  As they approached the service counter, Natalia recognized the scent of tomato sauce, garlic and onions, felt the light greasiness of the air. Beneath a plasti-glass shield, steam wisped out of covered metal serving pans. A young man, his cheeks round and red, stood behind the counter adjusting his stained apron.

  “Garlic bread come with it?” Natalia asked him.

  “Yep.” The kid reached simultaneously for a clean partitioned tray and the lid of the largest pan. “Seconds are free, but it’s a cred for thirds.”

  Natalia nodded. “Doubt we’ll want thirds. Load up a couple of trays, yeah?” How easy it was to fall back into the cadence of her childhood.

  He dished up a tangle of pasta and covered it with a ladleful of rich, red sauce and two meatballs. He set a rectangle of golden-brown bread beside the mound.

  Gennie’s breath stirred the hair near Natalia’s ear. “What are we eating?”

  Natalia turned to her. “You’ve never had spaghetti and meatballs?”

  Gennie eyed the laden tray the kid passed to Natalia. “Heard of it, but no, never ate it.”

  Natalia brought her tray close to her nose and inhaled. Spicy. Tomatoey. And enough garlic to knock over a Bidarki mammoth. Perfect. Just like her mother had made.

  The kid handed Gennie a second tray and gestured toward the far end of the room. “Utensils, drinks and salad over there.”

  Gennie followed Natalia’s lead and took a tentative whiff of her food. Her eyes watered and her head jerked up.

  Natalia smiled. “Pirqs like their garlic.”

  “It seems so.”

  They moved along to the salad station, sorted through wilted greens and squishy tomatoes, picked up the necessary utensils and filled cups with something called “sweet tea.”

  Natalia tapped a generous helping of grated cheese onto her pasta. It was labeled parm, but she doubted it was the real deal. She sprinkled some on Gennie’s. “You’ll like this.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be delicious.” Gennie sounded sincere, but Natalia grinned at her dubious expression.

  Almost every diner glanced up as they passed to reach an open table. No one invited them to share their table. No one offered any sort of greeting. Pirqs were used to newcomers; that didn’t make them friendly. Responses could range from open curiosity to ignoring the outsider. Eventually they’d be asked questions about their work experience or where they’d been, but nothing probing or too personal, which suited the situation just fine.

  What she’d told Gennie about the pirqs’ transitory nature and lack of investment in long-term relationships was true. Sure, couples met, had families, married even, but anything less than that level of commitment was unreliable in most pirq minds. Signing a contract was a big deal. Breaking one was even bigger. And if Gennie’s information was right, not only was the Reyes Corporation committing some sort of illegal act, they were essentially breaking contract with every pirq they dealt with. The CMA could freeze corporation finances, preventing the pirqs from collecting their rightful due until Colonial courts cleared the transactions. Most pirqs lived payday to payday and couldn’t afford to have their wages tied up.

  “Friendly bunch,” Gennie muttered as she laid a paper napkin on her lap.

  Natalia shrugged. “You get used to it.”

  “At least we won’t get bombarded by questions.”

  No, but despite their lack of greeting, Natalia knew the pirqs would be watching.

  Gennie held up a forkful of spaghetti. Strands slipped back onto the tray with a plop. Her knife was poised in the other hand, ready to do the unthinkable.

  “Don’t cut it.” Natalia demonstrated the fork twirl technique she’d learned in her youth. It wasn’t the tightest spiral she’d ever made, being out of practice, but there was a decent knot of pasta and sauce on her fork. “Like this.”

  Gennie gave it a try, losing the strands twice before a tangle trailed from her fork. She held it up for Natalia’s inspection.

  “Perfect,” Natalia said with a grin. “Give it a try.”

  She put her own forkful in her mouth and watched Gennie do the same. An explosion of acidic-sweet tomatoes, garlic and basil burst on her tongue. The pasta was overcooked, but the sauce was incredible.

  Gennie slurped in an errant string of spaghetti, sending a few drops of sauce flying. She chewed, her eyes watering from the garlic, but nodded and smiled.

  The obvious enjoyment in her eyes, not just polite agreement, warmed something inside Natalia, and it had nothing to do with the spices. “I can’t believe you’ve never had this.”

  Gennie washed down the mouthful with a sip of sweet tea and patted sauce off her lips with her napkin. “I grew up eating fish and vegetables. My parents were big believers in local consumption, except for a few imported fruits and grains.”

  Fish and local vegetables? Fare like that meant Gennie had likely grown up on the South Continent, where it was marginally warmer and the soil conditions more suitable to agriculture. It was a small glimpse into Gennie’s history that no amount of digging had found. As far as Natalia’s research and Sterling’s information went, Genevieve Caine had only existed for the last four years. Who was this woman?

  “We ate a lot of pastas, grains and preserved produce for the times we couldn’t get fresh,” Natalia said. “We’d trade with the Revivalist ranchers for beef or chicken when we could. During bad winters, if the passes were closed to supply trains, we’d just make do.”

  Gennie chewed slowly, looking at her with something akin to sympathy. “Sounds like a tough life for a l
ittle kid. For a family.”

  Unease twisted in Natalia’s stomach. Why was she sharing such personal information with Gennie? Usually, she was the one drawing information out of a target, not the other way around.

  But Gennie wasn’t a target of investigation. She was a partner of sorts. Not like Sterling or other agents she’d worked with. Natalia didn’t know what Gennie was, but she did know she had to be careful.

  “Anyway,” Natalia said as she picked up her garlic bread, “we had spaghetti or some sort of pasta on a regular basis, and my mother made the best bread in the territory.” She bit into the cheesy, garlicky goodness.

  Gennie took a bite of her own bread. Her eyes widened and she smiled as she chewed. “Oh, my,” she said around a mouthful. “That’s delicious.”

  “I had a feeling you’d like it.” Natalia hadn’t met anyone who could resist homemade pirq garlic bread.

  As they continued to eat, Natalia surreptitiously watched the other pirqs. Most finished their meals and quiet conversations, brought their trays to the pass-through into the dishwashing area and left the dining hall without so much as a glance their way.

  “Should we check in at the tunnel tonight or wait until morning?” Gennie asked when they’d finished.

  Before Natalia could respond, a man stopped at their table. “Which tunnel are ya ladies workin’?”

  Natalia looked up at him—one of the loners who’d been reading. Though his build was hidden beneath a couple of layers of clothing and a heavy coat, he appeared to be slender and fit. His coarse, dark hair fell in ropy strands tied together in a thick tail at the nape of his neck. The smoothness of his brown skin put him at no more than twenty-five Earth Standard years, but keracite dust emphasized the small lines starting to show at the corners of his green-gray eyes. Working the mines left its mark early.

  “Tunnel Four,” Natalia replied. “You?”

  “Same.” The man smiled, secured his tray in his left hand and held out the right. “The name’s Finn. I’m a roofer for the day shift.”

  Natalia smiled back and shook his hand. Calloused and strong, like all the pirqs she’d known, including the women. “Natalia. This is Gennie.”

  Finn shook Gennie’s hand, their contact lasting a little longer than necessary. Natalia’s jaws tightened when Gennie’s smile at Finn broadened.

  What the hell was that about? And why did Finn’s looking at Gennie bother Natalia?

  “What’s yer gig?” he asked as he released Gennie’s hand.

  “I’m a cutter,” Natalia said, drawing his attention, “but do most anything. Gennie doesn’t work the void. We’re hopin’ there’s a hauler job or something open.”

  Finn gave Natalia an appraising look. “Cuttin’s an art as much as a skill. We have a good ’un on shift now, but there’s always room for a backup.”

  “That’s my hope,” Natalia said, forcing herself to keep the genial grin on her face. What was it about this guy that torqued her?

  Finn nodded. “See ya tomorrow.” He carried his tray to the pass-through and left the dining hall.

  “He seemed nice,” Gennie said as she gathered her utensils, cup and napkin and piled them on her tray.

  Natalia downed the last of her tea and rose. “Don’t let the charm fool you. Most of these guys are lookin’ for one thing. They’re not trying to be your pal.”

  On the way to the pass-through, Natalia shook off the tension in her chest and jaw. Why the hell did she care if Finn was being friendly? They didn’t need the attention, that’s why.

  That’s what she told herself, anyway.

  Chapter Six

  Natalia entered their third-floor room ahead of Gennie and slapped the light on. Gennie closed the door behind them. What had Natalia so irritated?

  “Got an early start in the mornin’,” she said as she shucked her jacket and headed toward the bedroom.

  Gennie marveled at her metamorphosis from agent to pirq in a matter of hours. Her whole demeanor had altered. No longer the sleek, put-together CMA operative—at least on the surface—Natalia was a rougher, hardened version of herself. Would this have been the Natalia that resulted if she hadn’t left the pirq life? Probably.

  Both were damn sexy in their own ways. Hell, who wouldn’t be attracted to her?

  Natalia returned from the bedroom with a canvas bag in hand and one of the scratchy dorm-issued towels over her shoulder. “Gonna hit the shower before bed.”

  A fleeting image of soapy water sluicing over Natalia’s bare torso ran through Gennie’s mind. “Right behind you,” she said and went to gather her toiletries.

  The lav was nearly empty, with a lone man scrubbing his hair in the shower section. Shoulder-high walls between spigots and shower heads offered a modicum of privacy. On the other side of the tiled room, separated from the showers by a full wall, were a line of sinks and enclosed commodes.

  Funny how pirqs tended to follow the more conservative Revivalist ways, yet they had no qualms with unisex lavs and bath houses, like the majority of Nevarro’s citizens were used to.

  Natalia led the way to a long bench across from the showers. She hung her towel on a wall hook and set her bag down. Ignoring the man, and Gennie, she unbuttoned her shirt.

  Gennie followed Natalia’s lead, pretending she had no interest in the woman undressing beside her. She kept her gaze averted but couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of Natalia’s gorgeous, toned body and swallowed hard. Full breasts tipped in pink, a slender waist, well-shaped hips and thighs, dark gold curls covering her mons. The memory of their kiss at The Carmen, of how Natalia had felt and tasted, had teased Gennie’s imagination for the last few days. Now she was getting a look at the full beauty of the woman.

  She gave herself a mental shake. Natalia Hallowell was a distraction she couldn’t afford. She had to focus on the Reyeses, on keeping her children away from the only people on the planet that she feared. Under any other circumstances, lusting after Natalia would have been fine; in fact, Gennie would have been happy to follow through. Not now. Not with so much at stake.

  Natalia strode into the nearest shower stall and turned on the spigot, sending steaming water over her chest. She lifted her face to the spray, eyes closed and her lips slightly parted. Gennie watched her for a few seconds, wondering if she’d posed that way on purpose. But for what reason? Natalia had shown no sign of wanting to pick up where they’d left off.

  For the very same reason you’ve been teasing her. Now stop ogling.

  Gennie let out a silent sigh and stepped into the next stall. Right. She and Natalia had a job to do. Natalia was just better at putting their attraction out of her mind, even when faced with naked, wet bodies.

  She pressed the wash dispenser button and soaped up, her eyes—and brain—turning away from the other woman.

  Time to change herself into her assigned role of pirq miner. Or at least someone who worked with the miners. Thankfully, there were positions available that wouldn’t require entering the tunnels. She had a few med tabs that would take the edge off, should it become necessary, but nothing for a sustained trip into the void.

  The void. The very idea made her shudder. It could work out to their advantage, however, with Natalia investigating the actual mining operation while Gennie scoured SI files and searched for any evidence of inappropriate activity. The seemingly unrelated shipping manifests and financial reports she’d shown Natalia had to have some connection somewhere. It started here at Grand Meridian.

  If they couldn’t link the operation with the inconsistent reports, Gennie didn’t know what they’d do.

  She finished washing
and rinsing off, forming and discarding contingency plans for escaping the Reyeses, some of which actually left the couple alive.

  * * *

  Natalia pulled the loose sleep shirt over her head, grateful for the temporary reprieve from seeing Gennie. The woman was too damn attractive, and it had taken all of Natalia’s willpower to keep from staring at her as they finished dressing in the lav. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to stop the memories of their encounter at The Carmen as they’d showered side by side. The taste of Gennie’s mouth, the feel of her skin beneath Natalia’s palm when she’d slid her hand under Gennie’s sweater, the pleasant weight of her breast and the tautness of her nipple.

  Stop.

  The mental command halted the images in Natalia’s brain. She smoothed the shirt over her hips and pulled on a pair of shorts. Beside her, Gennie dressed in a pair of long, deep green pajama pants and a white tank top. Her damp hair left wet marks that made the fabric sheer. Natalia swallowed hard, failing to ignore the outline of Gennie’s dark areolas.

  A silver pendant on a delicate necklace rested between her breasts. Gennie saw Natalia looking at it and quickly slipped it under her shirt.

  “It’s warmer in the building than I would have expected,” Gennie said as they made their way back to the room.

  “They use raw ore for heat.” Natalia was grateful for the distraction. It helped to focus on something other than Gennie’s body. “About an eighth of what’s mined is used on-site. Heat output’s not as easily regulated as with processed fuel cells, but it’s readily available and ultimately cheaper.”

  “Too expensive to send out ore then bring back cells,” Gennie said, nodding.

  “Exactly.” Natalia swiped the key card over the room’s admit panel. “Modern machines, even the ones here, take fuel cells, but the furnaces are typically ancient beasts that burn raw ore.”