Free Borderlands: Gunsight by John Shirley

They sent men who made sadists look like monks. And Daphne had happened to be away from the house.
    She was already a good shot, a quick study at martial arts. She’d thought of working for Creel herself. But not now. Now all she wanted from Creel was revenge.
    She went to Creel’s enemy—to his rival, Kirk Bluestone. She’d said, “I can get in, and I can kill him, and his top men. I have my own reasons. But I’ll need money, afterward, to get off planet. Creel has a big organization—one of his men will come after me. Loyalty’s a funny thing.”
    Bluestone had laughed at that last remark—but then he’d shrugged. “You manage to do it, I’ll pay you. But chances are, girl, you’ll never get that close to the bastard.”
    “I’ll be in touch when it’s done,” she said.
    Bluestone nodded. “Deal.” He was a thug, was Bluestone, a member of the most ancient criminal organization on the planet—but he was known to keep his word.
    Daphne changed her appearance, just enough, and signed on to interview for Creel’s personal . . . entourage. Creel changed his harem once a year and word was, he was hiring. He liked young-looking women, teenage girls if he could get them. And she was barely nineteen.
    She was quickly hired, she went to bed with him—and first chance she got, she knocked him out cold, with the steel spike of her high heels. Then she tied his hands and cut out his tongue with the smuggled-in knife.
    She didn’t kill him quickly. She woke him, then cut him open, throat to groin, as he lay there, struggling with the ropes and gurgling. She made sure he knew who she was and why she was doing it.
    Sure, it made her sick. But then again, she was glad to get it done. He’d butchered her family, after all.
    His two top men were in the next room with the other girls. She dressed, then finished Creel’s lieutenants off with their boss’s own gun—two quick shots through the head apiece. She let the girls go, of course.
    Then she melted into the night.
    And Bluestone paid her, once the story of the killings hit the news—he paid her well. She ran for the stars, deep space, and traveled through two systems . . . before someone caught up with her. But it turned out they didn’t want to kill her.
    “You’re good,” said the man in the gray hood. “Impressive work with Creel. You could be even better. Work for me. I’ll train you . . . and we’ll get rid of some more assholes. And we’ll do it for good money. I need someone like you, to take special assignments . . .”
    That’s how it had really started. She’d gone from being Daphne Kuller, fugitive, to Kuller the Killer. She’d gotten good at it—she had a talent for murder. Maybe what she’d seen back home had turned her heart to ice and her hands to talons. Or maybe she was simply a natural. The Gray Hood hired her out to the cartels—to take out men in their organizations who had to go, or others in rival organizations . . .and they never knew what hit them, or who. Until she went independent.
    The man in the Gray Hood didn’t like that. He warned her— come back to work for me. Or else .
    She ignored him. He sent word to several cartels. “The one who took down your man? That was Kuller. Daphne Kuller . . .”
    So several of them came after her.
    One in particular.
    Daphne ran to Pandora, to hide out till things cooled off. But found herself face-to-face with Gynella, running rampant on Pandora. Gynella hated Daphne Kuller for taking out her husband. It’d taken Roland, Brick, Mordecai, and Daphne working together—but they’d taken down Gynella’s little army. And Gynella had burned to death out in the wastelands.
    She should’ve moved on to another world. But she’d gotten caught up in Mordecai. He was a man she could respect, as good as she was at what she did. And he was sweet hellfire in the sack.
    But he’d lacked ambition . . . and he turned to drinking. And walked out on her . . .
    Then came