Read Striper Assassin for Free Online

closer, one step, then another. She definitely gets the feeling that he’s looking her over from behind those mirrored lenses. Incredibly, she finds herself desperately hoping he likes what he sees. He could be just what she needs right now, more than just a ride. If nothing else, he looks like he could make the world a lot safer for a girl who’s long on programming and short on hand-to-hand. The view from her angle is impressive. She likes her men hard, even a little rough. This one looks rougher than most.
    From little more than a step away, she can see he’s dark for an Amerind, if that’s what he is. The darker the better. Really light-skinned people make her feel glitched, like a cake too long in the oven, burnt almost black.
    “What’s in the bag?”
    A flush of anxious heat rushes up the back of her neck. She forces a smile. “Nothin’. Just a deck.”
    “A good one.”
    How did he guess that? She deliberately mixed truth and falsehood to try and protect the deeper truth, the fantasy deck in her hands. She feels a gnawing of real fear, but shrugs, struggling to keep up the act. “It’s decent.”
    “You’re a decker.”
    “Yeah.”
    “A good one.”
    Where is he getting this from? A rush of giddy fear blossoms into an uncontrollable grin. Is he reading her aura? She’ll fall over dead if he turns out be a mage. “I’m decent, too.”
    “You want a ride?”
    Is he kidding? “Sure.”
    “What’s your name?”
    “People call me Angel.”
    “Get your pack, Angel.”
    “Okay.” She’s practically breathless, and grinning, as she turns back toward the shoulder of the road. This slag has got her reeling! She’s never met anyone who affected her this way before. He’s just scary enough to be real, but not quite so scary as to send her running. She stumbles and almost flops on her face just reaching down to pick up her small backpack. Good thing she’s been traveling light. She’s feeling way too muzzy to even want to deal with much luggage. She slings the pack from one shoulder, the Fuchi-6 from the other, and turns back to the chopper man.
    She can’t stop smiling.
    “What do I call you?” she asks.
    “Ripsaw.”
    More chills up her spine. The name suits him. Any handle he used would have to be hard and sharp like razor claws. Anything less menacing would seem absurd.
    “Get on.”
    “Okay.” That growly voice is turning her to butter. She lifts one leg up and over and slides onto the back of the hi-rider seat, which is just high enough for her to see over Ripsaw’s shoulders. The bike never moves, never sways, like it’s planted in stone, till she’s settled in her seat. Then, the engine rumbles, briefly revving, and the chopper rolls around in a smooth half circle, then starts accelerating up the road, running straight as an arrow.
    It’s still hours before dawn when they pull into the hard-packed lot of a truck stop just off the main highway. In the light of a passing rig, Neona gets her first clear look at the back of Ripsaw’s jacket. The synthleather bears the cat’s head logo of the Sioux Wildcats. She’s heard that name before. On the news somewhere. Something about some banger Native American Nations military unit.
    She’s got herself a real killer here.
    A real killer chiller. Yeah…

8
    : : : North Central Metroplex
    05-19-54/10:17:03
    Switch on, plug in, engage…
    This must be his lucky day!
    Natch, he’s got all the standard gads, and today everything seems to be working—scum damn fragging incredible as it may be, and is —to him at least.
    His Seretech Evening Shade cybereyes with FlareGuard and the thermographic-enhancement option provide a crisp, direct-vision image of the crumbling tenements and decaying sidewalks along Erie Avenue, not far from the Frankford Creek toxic waste dump. His Eyecrafter opticam package provides a complete diagnostic readout in the form of a direct-vision overlay right in front of his eyes. With a touch of the Bionome tridlink