In silence, Kito counted the woolongs a third time. Behind him stood two bodyguards, so unobtrusive that they were almost forgotten. Before him, on the other side of his desk, three men stood watching him. Chang Wei, bulky enough to make even Kito's office seem too small, stood with his arms folded on his massive chest, his expression impassive. Beside him, Roper Smith affected unconcern less successfully, his thumbs in the belt loops of his old-fashioned blue jeans and his shoulders slanted, but his eyes watchful and nervous. In front of them, the only truly relaxed person in the room stood at military ease, feet planted, hands linked behind his back, a faintly bored expression on his face.

Kito sealed the woolongs, thumbprinted the seal, and dropped the package into the courier safe. "Excellent, Vicious. More than I expected. Cho-Zhou will be pleased." He leaned back in his chair. "I take it you were able to get to Fontini?"

"He wasn't a problem."

"Did you have to break anything? Make any noise?"

Vicious shook his head. "I just reasoned with him."

Nothing in his calm, flat voice gave any indication that he was pleased or flattered by the rare compliment from Kito. But behind him, Roper stifled a grin, and Kito said, "Roper, you disagree?"

"No, sir. It's just that what Vicious calls reasoning with him, I would call quietly scaring the shit out of him."

"I like quiet. When it's possible. What did you say to him, Vicious?"

Vicious shrugged one shoulder. "The usual. It's not what you say, it's how you say it."

"That's true enough." Kito's mouth curved. He reached into a drawer and handed a fat stack of woolongs to Vicious. "There's your bonus, boys."

He rose, and while one of the bodyguards helped him into his coat, Vicious peeled a 10,000w bill from the top of the stack and tucked it into his pocket. The rest he split evenly between himself, Roper and Chang. Kito noted this with a lifted brow, and as the boys pocketed their money, Roper with a grin, Kito said, "A good night deserves a reward. How about I stand you three a round at the Jupiter Bar?"

This was so unprecedented that even Chang blinked. Roper said, "Sure, boss! Thanks!"

"Meet us down there. I need to have a little talk with Vicious first."

When they were gone, he sat on the edge of his desk and studied Vicious a moment. "Why did you do that? Split the money evenly? You're the boss for those two, you should get the largest cut."

"They work better that way."

"Are you having trouble with them?"

Vicious shook his head.

Kito lit a cigarette, taking his time. "I thought Roper, at least, would give you a hard time. He's still calling you 'the kid.'"

"He and I had a talk, so now he calls me 'the kid' in a respectful way."

That got a chuckle from Kito. "Another of those talks of yours, huh? I'll have to listen in on one sometime. Sounds like they're pretty effective. So, why did you take off the one bill? Good luck? Or plan to give it to charity?"

"No, it's mine. One off the top. To remind them I'm still in charge."

For a moment, Kito was still, and the only movement in the room was the drift of smoke. Then he said, "You have an old head on your shoulders. When I gave you those two, both of them were pretty pissed off about the idea of taking orders from a kid who barely shaves. You know that I figured you'd fall on your butt, don't you?"

Vicious nodded. "But I didn't."

"I have a feeling you don't like to fail."

"I don't know. I've never failed yet. But I don't like the thought of it."

Kito gestured to the bodyguards and sent them from the room with a jerk of his chin. When the door closed behind them, he said, "What you did then, with the bonuses – that's what I used to do when I first started. Right down to taking the first bill off the top."

"I know."

"You asked around about me?"

"I listened. That's different."

"Why me? There's plenty of capos around. Are you imitating me because you work for me?"

"No. I did it because when I become a capo, you're the kind I want to be."

Kito's dark eyes narrowed, studying him. "I'm not sure if I'm flattered or threatened. Kid, I'll tell you something that I'd never say if there was anyone else here – you scare me. Not like you scare Fontini, or even Roper," he said, his lips twitching. "But I've never seen anything like you. Everything I give you to do, you do right, maybe even better than I expected. I figured two pros like Chang and Roper would eat you alive, and instead you've got them eating out of your hand. I have a feeling about you. I have from the minute I heard about you from Annie. I think you're going to go far. Maybe all the way to the top. Hell, I might be working for you when I retire, for all I know. But you're being noticed, and that's dangerous. You know you don't dare put a foot wrong now."

"I'm hoping you'll keep me from doing that."

"I might. I just might. As long as you promise me one thing."

"What's that?"

Kito grinned. "Don't kill me to step into my shoes. Come on, I owe you a drink. We'll go in the car and beat those other two there."

~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~

Coddled in the air-conditioned luxury of Kito's limo, Vicious had to struggle to maintain his calm exterior and act as if this kind of thing happened to him every day, when what he really wanted to do was to dance with glee as he'd often seen Spike do. All his hard work had paid off. Not that he discounted his good luck. As syndicate men went, Kito was one of the best. He was fair, he rewarded good service, and he was a natural leader, the kind men want to follow, the kind of man who, when someone who failed him turned up missing or dead, everyone assumed they'd deserved it. Vicious knew he had some natural leadership abilities of his own, but he'd been watching Kito as well as listening to others talk about him, and he'd studied all the things Kito did that made him so effective. Some, such as Kito's wry and appealing sense of humor, he couldn't emulate. Others, like the even split of bonuses, he easily could, and still others, like the cool confidence with which Kito gave even the simplest orders, the easy assumption that he trusted his people to carry them out to the letter, he learned with practice.

Also lucky for him was that, for some reason, Kito liked him. Vicious worked hard on that, too, taking advantage of his luck in every way he could. Even the smallest assignment kept him up late, studying and planning. When he had been given Roper and Chang as assistants, he figured they were a pair of babysitters, helping the rookie with the assignment of collecting protection money, a job which would normally have gone to an older, more experienced man. Vicious had spent the next two nights studying, and when the three of them took to the street, he'd known everything there was to know about both of them, and he knew much more than they did about where they were going and who they were dealing with – every street, every alley, every entrance and exit to every shop, and the strengths and weaknesses of each "client". Within half an hour after they set out on that first afternoon, Chang had his measure and moved contentedly from babysitter to employee. Roper took a little longer, but not much.

As he'd told Kito, failure wasn't acceptable to him. But he hadn't thought to succeed so well, so fast. In the short drive to the Jupiter Bar, Kito spoke about syndicate business, and he listened and learned. When they got to the bar, Kito was of course shown into the private rooms and Vicious went to join Roper and Chang, but everyone had seen him come in with Kito, so his passage through the crowd was accompanied by newly respectful looks.

The irrepressible Roper, however, greeted him with a whistle and a demand to know how he'd learned to kiss ass so well, which Vicious didn't bother to grace with a reaction. Their drinks were set before them, and Vicious calculated exactly how much time he should stay to show solidarity but not familiarity with "his" men. Roper carried on most of the conversation, since Vicious wasn't talkative and Chang gave new meaning to the word taciturn, whereas Roper was in love with both his looks and his own voice.

Vicious was just laying the groundwork for leaving gracefully when Roper nudged his foot under the table and said, "Don't look now, but that Crys is getting an eyeful of you."

"Crys? Crys who?"

Roper jerked a thumb toward the bar.

There was a woman staring at him, so intently that he was surprised he hadn't felt it. She suited the bar, having a kind of casual flamboyance in her style. She was tall, a full head taller than the women on either side of her, but long legs, narrow hips, and a tiny waist prevented any categorizing her as a "big girl." A hot-pink blouse clung precariously to a chest that was lushly, definitely female, leaving her shoulders bare, and tight leather pants were tucked into boots with three-inch heels. Her hair was long, almost to her waist, as straight as a rule and black with the ends dyed green. Although it looked as if it had been cut with garden shears and an unsteady hand, the style worked for her somehow. When he looked into her eyes, she put out her cigarette and calmly stared back, unconcerned about being discovered or about being flirtatious. Her stare was a simple invitation.

"Jeez," Roper said. "I thought she hated syndicate guys."

"She does," Chang said.

"Then why is she staring at the kid like that?"

Chang didn't reply.

Vicious took another long pull on his whiskey. The woman was making him nervous, which was not a familiar sensation. "Who is she?" he asked casually.

"Crys. C-r-y-s, not C-h-r-i-s, and God help you if you get it wrong. She's a real ball-buster. And like Chang says, she hates syndicate men."

Vicious let his lips curve. "You mean you couldn't get to first base with her, right?"

"I didn't even get up to bat. But I bet you could."

Vicious suddenly realized he was in a situation he'd never faced before. One thing he knew almost nothing about was women. Rafe had said, There's no understanding women, so you might as well not kink your brain up trying to figure them out. And they're all different. Just find a way to deal with each one the best you can. But he'd never had to deal with them before, except the nuns at the orphanage, and this woman was nothing like a nun. Furthermore, he was facing another test in the eyes of Roper and Chang. He couldn't afford to look weak or ignorant in front of them.

He leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs, and put on a bored expression. "She's not that great to look at."

"Are you nuts?" Roper asked, laughing. About some things, he had a sure instinct, and he was ready to push on this, Vicious realized. "Are your eyes working OK? Not to mention the rest of your body. Hell, she's hotter than a solar flare."

"I suppose," Vicious said lazily, lifting his glass. He glanced toward the bar again. She was still watching him, but more coolly now, less intently. "How much is she?" he asked.

Roper sputtered, and even Chang blinked. "Damn," Roper said, "she ain't no whore, Vicious!"

"No? She dresses like one."

"Well, she ain't, and if you tell her that, what she'll say to you will make you miss your momma."

"I doubt that," Vicious smiled. "But I won't say it. Just because I'm polite."

Chang said, "I think you two would make a good couple."

This was so unexpected that even Vicious stared at him open-mouthed. Chang rarely said more than two or three words at a time, and never on a personal note. After a blank silence, Roper suddenly started laughing, a little too loudly. "You're right, Chang. Damned if you're not. They're a perfect match. Her with a tongue that can raise a blister, and him with one that can freeze your blood. Just perfect."

Chang pushed his chair back and rose with the fluid grace that always seemed odd with such a big man. "We should go," he said, and without waiting for a reply, he left. Roper, non-plussed for a moment, recovered and said, "Yeah, I guess that's right. Call me when you need me, you got the number. And have a nice night," he added with a grin.

Left alone, Vicious stared into his glass, figuring that in about two minutes he could leave without seeming to be in retreat in any way. He felt the woman's eyes on him again and looked up. She tilted her head to one side, as if saying, Well?

This was a challenge he knew he had to meet on some level. Others had noticed and were watching. He nodded, once, and she started toward him, weaving her way through the crowd like a Siamese cat. She sat next to him, in the chair Chang had vacated, and studied him frankly, with a faint smile. When he didn't speak, her smile deepened. "You know, you don't have to offer to buy me a drink or anything."

Her eyes were a mossy green, he saw, and she was older than she'd looked at a distance. Her voice was intriguingly husky. "I will if you want one," he offered.

She signaled to the waitress, and in a moment, fresh shots of whiskey sat before each of them. When the waitress was gone, he said, "Wouldn't you rather have wine?" That's what most women drank.

"If I wanted grape piss, I'd have ordered it," she said, amused, and sipped the whiskey with a daintiness that didn't go with her words.

Against his will, he was fascinated by her. He'd never met a woman quite like her. "Why were you staring at me?"

"Partly because you're pretty." At his expression, she chuckled. "You don't like that, do you?"

"Does any man?"

"You aren't quite a man yet. I guess, in a way, that makes it even worse. But it's still true. I've seen pictures in the art museum that aren't as pretty as you are."

"We aren't getting off on the right foot," he growled.

"Sure we are. You just don't know it yet."

"I know when I like someone, and I don't like you."

Unconcerned, she took a cigarette from the purse hanging from a string over her shoulder. Vicious said, "I don't like that habit, either."

She met his eyes, shrugged, and to his surprise, tossed the cigarette unlit into the nearest ashtray. Set off his stride again, Vicious did what came naturally. He attacked. "You said partly. What's the rest of the reason you were staring at me?"

She chuckled. "You'll like that even less."

"Tell me anyway."

Her expression sobered, and after a slight hesitation, she said quietly, "Your eyes. You've got lonely eyes. The loneliest eyes I've ever seen."

"I'm not lonely," he said coldly.

The smile came back. "You're full of shit."

"And you're an arrogant bitch."

"I still like your looks."

"I don't care."

"You've got a great personality there, too. Loads of charm. Oh, look, he can smile."

"Are you always like this?"

"I usually tell the truth, if that's what you mean."

"No, I mean obnoxious."

"Only when I want to get someone's attention."

"You already got my attention by staring at me."

"I doubt that." She rested her chin on her knuckles. "I doubt that very much. You aren't like the rest of the guys who come in here."

"Why? Because I didn't try to pick you up?"

She didn't react at all to the offensiveness of his tone. She just kept studying him. "No, not just that. You're just... different. Very, very different. I don't know why, though, so it interests me. You interest me."

He shrugged. In truth, he didn't know what to say to her. He felt as if she were looking deeper into him than most people did, and something about the way she was doing it made him uncomfortable in a peculiarly pleasant way. In another, very differently pleasant way, her position made him aware of how smooth the skin of her shoulders looked.

"Well," she said. Then, "I'm getting pretty tired of this place. It's too noisy to hold a conversation. Tell you what. I'm going home and take a bath. That'll take me about half an hour or so. After that, I'll be reading a book for a little while before I go to bed. If you should turn up then, we could get to know each other better. And if you don't, I'll have caught up with my reading. I'm two blocks north of here, number 1124 Baker, third floor, third door on the left. Just in case you're interested." She rose. "And if not, well, it was nice meeting you, Vicious. By the way," she added over her shoulder as she turned to go, "that's a weird name. But it suits you, in a weird sort of way."

He watched her walk out, her hips swinging under the curtain of hair, and he wasn't the only man who watched her. He remembered something else Rafe had once said. A pretty woman is a fine thing to touch, but in our world, it's hard to hold on to something that other men want. His shoulders twitched. He didn't want this Crys. If he were going to be honest with himself, yes, he did want her, but he didn't want the trouble she could bring. Nor did he want the possible humiliation of jumping into something where he had little idea what to do or how to do it.

Worse, he wasn't sure what effect this would have on his reputation. He would have been safe if she'd been an ordinary woman, one of those who hung around the edges of the syndicate or who worked for it. That she had the reputation for hating the syndicates, yet singled him out so obviously, could be either really good or really bad for him.

To hell with her, he thought. He would take risks with his life and safety, but not with his reputation. He was not going to see all his hard work get washed away for a tart who thought he was pretty, of all things. In a few days, he would have forgotten all about that smooth pale skin, those green come-hither eyes, and that husky voice.

He rose, tossed a bill on the table, and left the bar. Just outside the door, in the flickering orange and pink light of the Jupiter's neon sign, he hesitated. North? or south, and home?

He'd just decided on south and had turned when one of Kito's bodyguards came out and caught his arm, then slammed him back against the brick wall. He was used to how rough they were and didn't resist, knowing this only meant Kito wanted to talk to him about something. He waited fifteen minutes against the wall, unable to move, watched sharply by Kito's man, until the boss himself came out.

Kito casually gestured the man away, then paused to light a cigarette before saying anything. Vicious watched his hands. He didn't know if this was good news or bad, and he'd once seen Kito light a cigarette, just like this, and while pocketing the lighter, whip out a blade and drive it through the heart of someone who'd crossed him. But the lighter fell into his coat pocket and the hand came out empty, and Kito's expression was amused. "Roper tells me you just got propositioned by Natalya Maranovya."

"Who?"

"She calls herself Crys."

"Oh. Yes," he said, keeping his tone cool and unconcerned in an attempt to make up for having just sounded like an idiot. "What about it?"

"I just wondered what you were going to do."

What the hell? "I hadn't decided. If there's a problem, I'd just as soon go home. She's not that good-looking."

Kito laughed. "You play that act really well, you know it? But you're going to be a lot older before another woman like that one comes on to you."

"She could be trouble."

"She is trouble. But you're smart, you can handle that. And it would look real good if one of my boys had her on a leash for a while."

Now he understood. And now he knew he had no choice.

Kito smiled and said, "Well, have fun tonight." Then he got in his big car and left.

Vicious stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed north. He had two blocks to figure out what to do when he got there. He wasn't exactly an innocent, after all. He'd heard plenty of talk. All he had to do was remember some of what other men had said, then imagine himself doing it. And stop sweating.

He had what he thought was a pretty good plan of action by the time he knocked on the door. But when Crys opened it, the plan went completely out of his head. She was nothing like he was expecting in any of his imaginings. She'd washed all her make-up off, and her hair was still damp, pulled forward over one shoulder. The only thing she was wearing was a childish, fuzzy pink bathrobe that reached to her knees. Her feet were bare, the nails painted blood-red to match her fingernails. Barefoot, she stood as high as his chin, so she hardly had to look up to hold his eyes. "You came," she said with soft delight, and smiled.

"You invited me."

His scowl didn't faze her at all. "That doesn't make me any less glad that you actually came." She reached up, put a hand around his neck, and pressed her lips to his, briefly, gently. "Well, come on in. Lets quit giving the neighbors a free show."

He'd planned to stay an hour or so. He ended up staying the night, and he got very little sleep. But in those hours, he discovered there was something else for which he had a natural talent and someone willing to help him develop it.

---

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