Blink: Interdiction (Book 4)

16

Darien's heart was pounding, but he kept his face a mask of stone as he stared down the trio. It wasn't the weapons they carried that made him nervous. He knew this might be their only shot to get a foot in the door of the criminal trade in the region. If things spiralled out of control now their whole operation could be blown to pieces before it truly started. So he painted an easy smile on his face and nudged Amber with an elbow.

"See?" he said breezily. "Told you work would find us."

"Guess I owe you that fifty," Amber replied, a sullen edge in her voice as she picked up his tactic in an instant, slouching back against the bar with her arms folded. "Though you didn't say work would be lugging so much heat."

"Guess standards have dropped."

"Clamp you lips, kiddies," the woman snarled suddenly, stepping forward and brandishing her pistol. The other people in the bar slowly eased away from the confrontation. "You're new around here."

"So you got the brains and the looks."

"No-one new comes here, smart-ass," hissed the man with the knife. "And if you don't wanna lose that tongue you might wanna use it more carefully."

"I think you hurt their feelings, boss," Amber told him.

"Alright, alright," Darien chuckled, raising his hands. "Let's everybody take a breath. Me and my friend here, we're looking to offload some gear. I heard this might be the place to do it."

"And where did you 'hear' that?"

"That's my business. And if you don't want what we're selling there are plenty other places on this rock I can try my luck." Darien reached back around and picked up his beer, taking a swig and staring the woman down. "You might've seen a bit of a ruckus on the news-nets a little while back. Our off-world friends ... 'lost' some equipment."

"Heard about that," the man with the shotgun said, slinging the weapon across his shoulder and nodding. "Seemed like some real bad luck."

"I was always told we make our own luck." Darien winked. "So you know the kind of hardware we've got on the market. If you haven't got the credit to touch it, then maybe you know a buyer around here who can."

"And what do we get?"

"We can cut you in," Amber said nonchalantly, making a show of examining her finger nails and not even looking up at the trio. "For what we'll score off this merch I think we can afford it."

Darien looked from her to the group of thugs and took another swig of his beer. "So, what do you think? Is this something you can touch?"

The woman clicked the firing bolt of her pistol forward, a frown creasing her rugged features. With a huff she shoved the pistol into its holster. "Not a call I can make."

"Ah, one for the big boss, eh?" Darien nodded sagely. "I can wait. But not too long."

"Don't play games," the knife-wielder hissed. "And before we go making introductions for you, you better show us some proof of your little treasure-trove."

"Proof?" Darien grinned. "Sure, we can show you proof." His mind was racing through all the possible consequences of what he was about to do, but he shunted them aside, knowing he needed to take the calculated risk.

So, moving as fast as he could, he whipped one hand under his jacked to the holster at the back of his belt, and effortlessly slipped free the gun that was held there.

He moved so fast that only Amber even reacted to him at first, her face flickering with surprise before she regained her composure and, to her credit, folded her arms nonchalantly, staring at their dumbfounded interrogators. By the time they'd processed what was happening, Darien had levelled the Bocklor Typhoon handgun at them – the gun they'd liberated from the factory foreman in their first operation on the planet. The sleek, sin-dark barrel glinted dangerously in the light and the woman's face blanched with fright as she realised just what was pointing at her. At this range the powerful side-arm would only need one shot to ruin someone's day permanently.