Born of Fire

Digger snorted. “I wish you’d come up with a fresh saying, but at least it’s not as annoying as that old no-good-deed-goes-unpunished crap.” Digger smirked as he pulled a blanket out of the storage drawer beneath his bed. Covering the bed with it, he turned to Syn. “I know it ain’t as fancy as that place you’ve got now, but it’s clean.”


“You don’t have to apologize to me.” Compared to some of the slime holes where he and Digger had slept in the past, this was a mansion. “My only requirement is that it’s dry and nothing crawls around and bites my ass.”

Digger motioned for him to lie down. “Well, you don’t have to worry about any of that.”

Slowly, Syn removed his clothes, then obliged. He let out a long sigh as he finally lay down. It hurt like hell, but it was infinitely better than standing.

“It’s good to see you again.” Digger fussed with his pillows like a spinsterish aunt.

Syn didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what to say. He owed Digger a debt that could never be repaid, but he’d never wanted to see the old man again.

Digger belonged to the past. A past he would sell his soul to forget.

But it didn’t change the fact that he did love the old bastard even when he didn’t want to. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around these last few years.”

Digger snorted. “Don’t you dare get soft on me, boy. I wouldn’t want you to come around my old sorry self either. I never wanted you to live like this. You know that.”

Syn nodded.

“Now what can I get for you while you heal?”

“The two of us need gear.”

“Full infiltration?”

“The best. I know you can hack my accounts and pay for it. Take whatever you need. Just make sure to hide your IPs. Make them think we’re on Gondara . . . that should piss off the old bitch.”

“All right. Anything else?”

“Yeah, give Shahara some food. She’s too damned skinny. And for the sake of the gods, buy me some boots that fit.” Syn draped an arm over his eyes to shield them from the glare of the overhead lights. “I wear the same size he did.”

Digger started to leave, then paused. “I heard them Rits were after you again. There’s been some talk around here about certain people who are making bets on bringing you in dead.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll leave as soon as I can. Don’t worry, I’d never bring trouble to your door.”

Digger stiffened as if that offended him. “You know better than that. I owe you, Sheridan.”

“Don’t call me that.” It made his skin crawl to hear it.

Only Nykyrian got away with using that name anymore. Ironically though, even he seemed to know not to use it. Syn had never told him it bothered him. Somehow Nykyrian just knew it did and only used it when he wanted to make a point, get his attention, or annoy him.

But then, as an assassin Nyk was good at intrinsically knowing what pissed people off.

“Sorry, old habits die hard.”

Syn looked over at Digger and grimaced. “Yeah and so do gutter rats.”

Digger’s gaze turned hard, reproachful. “I done told you all your life, boy, you ain’t no gutter rat.”

Syn withheld the contradiction. There was no denying the truth. Shit was shit, no matter how much sanitizer and perfume you put on it.

Digger sighed. “You stay here as long as you need to. I won’t let anyone in.”

Syn offered him a smile. “Thanks.”

Shahara came awake ready to fight. She snapped upright, her lip curled, her hand going to her blaster. Looking around, it took her several minutes before she recognized her surroundings.

“You’re all right, sweet.” Digger rose slowly from the stuffed arm chair a few feet away. “No one here will hurt you.”

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake up like that. It’s just habit when I’m not in my own place.” She pushed back the blue blanket that covered her. A smile curled her lips at the kindness of him covering her while she slept. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head to her. “No problem. I do the same thing when I wake up.” He disappeared for a moment before returning with a warm plate of vegetables and a huge steak. “Why don’t you try some of this? I ain’t the best cook around, but it ain’t killed no one yet. Well . . . just that one rat what came in and took some. But that was more from the blaster shot I gave him for being a thief than from him eating the food . . . I think.”

She laughed. “I assure you it can’t be any worse than mine. I can’t cook for anything. Even my brother cooks better. Sad really.”

He laughed.

While she took a few bites, Digger brought her a bottle of water. “That there’s the best in the whole Ichidian Universe. It comes from a spring on Laquata.”

She lifted a brow. Laquata spring water was a rare luxury indeed. She’d never even thought to have a sip of it, never mind a whole bottle. Rumors said that it held magical healing properties. Not that she believed that. It was most likely a myth made up by the owners to help sell it to gullible fools.