Under A Winter Sun Johan Dahlgren (digital e reader .txt) 📖

my leg, feeling for my gun. It's not there.

“No, you can't,” the one who is not Soledad replies to her friend.

Her long platinum fringe bounces as she shakes her head. It's mesmerising.

I blink to get my focus back.

“We need him, Soledad. Kicking his teeth in might disincline him from accepting our generous offer.”

I open my mouth to speak. All that comes out is a dry rasp.

One of the unpleasant things about being dead is that your mouth dries out.

The woman who is not Soledad leans forward to hear me better.

With an effort, I peel my dry tongue from the roof of my mouth and try again.

“Who are you?” I manage. There is still no strength in my body, so I stay sprawled on the concrete.

She seems to hear me this time, and leans back against the car, letting the rifle dangle from one slender hand.

“You've met Soledad. I'm Jagr.”

“Jagr? Is that your first name?”

“No.”

I wait for her to elaborate. She does not.

OK, fresh angle of approach.

“Who do you work for, Jagr?”

“I think you can guess, but that is not important. What is important, is that we need your help.”

“You need my help?” My mouth is finally back in business.

“Yes.”

“Word of advice, Jagr,” I cough. “Beating people up and shooting them in the back is a bad way to call for help.”

I cough again, trying to work some moisture into my dry throat. “Do you always enlist people this way?”

“Nope.”

I stare at her.

“So why the charade with the kidnapping and the goons?” I can now move my hands and feet. I flex my fingers.

“Soledad wanted to see if you were any good.”

“And did I pass the test?” I glance at Soledad.

She sneers. “Barely.”

“Barely? I almost killed you.” I try to work up the energy to get off the floor.

Soledad snorts and Jagr goes on. “We know who you are. We are aware of what you're doing to us. And we know what you did to Arcadia.”

Shit.

She squats beside me. She's got spectacular legs and the dark combat suit does nothing to hide them. Quite the contrary.

“Still, you could have just asked.”

With a groan, I roll over on my back. The pain in my cheek as it unsticks from the concrete makes me wince.

“And what do you need my help for, anyway? You need someone to teach Soledad manners?”

I pump my fingers, trying to get the blood flowing into my hands again. It hurts like liquid fire streaming into my digits. Coming back to life is a painful process.

“Yes, I do, but that's not the primary job I have for you. If she ends up house-trained,” Jagr glances sideways at Soledad, “I consider that a secondary objective achieved, and you get a bonus.”

“Bonus.” I taste the word. “I like the sound of that.”

Wincing, I push myself up on my elbows and from there to a sitting position and wince again as the headache cuts like a burning machete through my brain.

Soledad smirks.

I give her the finger and my head hurts even more.

“So, what's the job?” My hair is stiff and sticky with blood. I inspect my reflection in the shiny black bodywork of the car and pat my dark mop down into some semblance of order. There are ladies present. I fail miserably. Even Suki would be proud of this spiky hairdo. There's a sudden stab of pain somewhere in the general area of my icy heart at the thought of Suki, even after all this time.

“We need your help to find someone.”

Don't they all.

“You want me to kill him?” I peer up at Jagr.

“Nope. We want him back alive.”

“Why? What's he done? Did he get Soledad pregnant or something?”

“You're not very good at this, are you, Perez?”

She looks disappointed. Then she sighs. “He went somewhere for us. He stumbled over something. Something big.”

“Who's 'us'?”

Jagr shakes her head. Not important. I get it.

“Where did he go?” Using my index and middle finger, I rub the base of my nose to make the headache go away. I might as well have tried to yodel for all the good it does me.

“Nifelheim.”

“Nifelheim? As in the Goliaths' Nifelheim?”

“Last time I checked, there was only one Nifelheim in this system.”

“And you need me because I know Thorfinn Wagner?”

Jagr nods. “You need his help to keep the Goliaths off your back when you go there to find your man.”

“You're not as stupid as you look.”

Yeah, I get that a lot.

I wipe a hand over my mouth, brushing flaking blood from my lips and stubble. No matter how many times I swallow it, I will never get used to the taste of my blood.

“The thing is, I haven't talked to Wagner for a long time.”

“You're still friends, aren't you?”

“I guess.”

“Well, there you go then.” Jagr stands up and rests the rifle across her shoulders, pushing out her fabulous chest. The combat suit accentuates her curves. I'm sure she is well aware of how good she looks.

I sigh and hate myself a little for taking the bait. “OK, I'll talk to him for you. What did your agent find?”

“That's the thing. We don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“Data analysis and pattern correlation algorithms imply the Goliaths are up to something, and that scares us. We've never seen this level of organised activity from them before.”

“The Goliaths?”

“That's what I said.”

That is odd. The Goliaths are normally content to battle among themselves for positions of power.

“OK, I'm listening.”

A slight change in Jagr's pose tells me that's what she wanted to hear.

“Your agent must have told you something. Not much of an agent otherwise.”

Her eyes narrow and there's a glint of sharp steel behind them like I've insulted her. Maybe the agent is her boyfriend or something? I'm surprised by a twinge in my chest at the thought of Jagr with a boyfriend. Like a small fish took a nibble of my heart.

Her jaw flexes as she bites down on an acid reply and instead forces her voice back into businesslike tones. “All we have is a name.”

Oh, for fucks sake. Are they dragging