Free Necrotech by K C Alexander Page B

that,” I shot back. The look I leveled at him wasn’t sympathetic this time. “Don’t fuck around anymore.”
    I headed for my exit without waiting for a reply. It was easy to spot, the only patch of white in a wall that looked like a collective of graffiti artists threw up on it. Pasha’s Den of the Exotic – exactly the cheap contract sex service it sounded like – fought for territory with the Rat Café and every possible rendition of corporate propaganda you could ever want.
    They used to put ads on the disconnection doors, but too many complaints of confused users getting stuck in projection earned them a lawsuit they couldn’t buy off. Although most of us don’t need to use the door to activate our protocols, a lot of older gen users prefer the comfort.
    As for me, I just liked leaving on a, well, bang.
    My hand was on the panel when Greg’s voice cut the silence. “I have a kid, Riko.”
    I hesitated. I shouldn’t have.
    â€œShe’s three years old.”
    Fuck.
    I turned. A three year-old kid confessed to a recent fling? Smooth. “Married?”
    He nodded. “Yeah.”
    Surprise, surprise. Guess he’d had that sweet little wife all along. Only instead of waiting at home while her cop husband nabbed the bad guys, she waited while he fucked them. Heh.
    â€œSo?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
    Greg ran both hands through his hair, finally meeting my eyes from across the neon-spattered floor. “She wants a divorce.”
    How was this my problem?
    I really couldn’t handle complicated people. “That sucks.”
    He frowned at me. Obviously, that wasn’t the response he’d wanted.
    I snorted a laugh that caused him to draw back as if he’d been slapped. “What do you want me to say? Is it supposed to make me feel guilty that I was complicit in your extramarital affairs? It doesn’t.” Not even a little bit. Greg was an adult, he could handle his own decisions, and I’d handle mine. “You’ll be fine,” I assured him. “You’re a cop. You probably know a good lawyer.”
    Something hard and desperate banked in his green eyes, something that could have been anger, but looked more like envy to my tired brain. It twisted his upgraded mask into something ugly, undoing all that cred he put into the work. “I need better income.”
    â€œSo?” I asked again.
    â€œSo I can’t get a second job, Riko. A cop doesn’t get to put his badge away for another shift.”
    Ah. Now it made sense. It wasn’t about me; it was about the income contracting out to a merc could give him. I was probably the only runner he was on good terms with. Damn it. “No,” I said again. “Hell, no.”
    â€œI love her, you know.”
    Maybe. Maybe his grasp on that subject sucked, too. “I’m glad,” I said evenly. “What’s her name?”
    â€œSandra.”
    I didn’t notice anything different on his face. Hearts didn’t sprout up around his head, hosannas didn’t play behind his voice. No sparkles. Nothing that could tell me if he loved this woman or was spinning me some kind of song.
    Honestly, I didn’t care. “Then patch it up with Sandra,” I told him. “Work out your financial issues together and leave me out of it.”
    â€œYou’re the only one I’ve ever cheated on her with, Riko. Doesn’t that mean something?”
    My fingers cracked against the panel.
    â€œYes,” I answered, very slowly. As if I was talking to a child. “It means that you’re a purist and an asshole.” Not always mutually inclusive. “And that I liked you better before. Actually, scratch that.” I gave up on the door entirely. “I liked you better when we weren’t talking. Chunk off, Detective Keith.”
    â€œRiko, wait–”
    Triple hell no , with a dash of eat a dick for flavor. I