Free Zero Sum Game by SL Huang

because I, uh, because I have respect. For your badass retrieval skills. Happy?”
    “Only because from here I could kill you in less than half a second.”
    Okay, maybe it wasn’t the smartest boast to make. But it was worth it to see that glib look in his eyes stutter into discomfort, and for the truck to fall into blessed silence. When Tresting spoke again, his tone was back to businesslike. “So, who hired you?”
    I wasn’t in the mood to cooperate. “Client privilege.”
    Anger clouded his features. “Hey, I told you—”
    “A whole big sack of nonsense,” I cut in. “Here’s the deal. You show me all your precious data. If I agree there’s something there, then we can work together, and then you get to know everything I know. Not before.”
    “What happened to quid pro quo?” demanded Tresting.
    “I’m young and sassy,” I shot back. “This is all just a game to me.”
    “Come on, I didn’t mean—”
    “Hey look, we’re here.” The dirty handful of buildings comprising Camarito slumped jumbled around us in the darkness. “This is where I was going. You can drop me anywhere.”
    Tresting stepped on the brake a trifle harder than he had to, and we jerked to a halt. “You owe me,” he said tightly. I’d forgotten how dangerous his tone could get. It was edging back toward that now.
    “I told you,” I said. I wondered if I had let myself get needled into being ornery, and whether that was wise, but it was too late to second-guess myself now. “I want to see your data. Prove to me that what you told me wasn’t the ravings of some crackpot, and I’ll share what I know.”
    I unbuckled the ridiculous seat belt, collected my saddlebag full of toys, and swung down from the truck. Tresting got out as well, apparently deciding for annoying. He came around the hood to face me.
    “You can find me here.” He flicked a business card at me, probably intending for it to flutter to the pavement, but I caught it out of the air without thinking about it—projectile motion with a nice muddle of air resistance mixed in; please, challenge me. “I think you still need what I got on this. And you owe me. I saved your ass today.”
    I offered him a one-shoulder shrug. “Maybe.”
    “We ain’t gotta end up enemies. Don’t think neither of us wants that.” He brushed back his leather jacket to lay a hand not-quite-on his holster.
    He wasn’t going to draw. The movement was all wrong. It was the posturing of the street, an unsubtle reminder that he was smart enough and good enough to be a threat to me if he wanted to be. Besides, if he had been intending to pull his weapon, I would have had him dead or incapacitated before his gun cleared. He was far too close to get away with trying. I lounged, leaning my weight back, content to let him posture.
    Someone else wasn’t.
    A step crunched on the gravel behind Tresting, and Rio’s voice said, “Hand away from the gun, nice and slow.”
    The PI didn’t need to see Rio’s sawed-off pointed at the back of his head from five feet away. He knew danger when he heard it. Especially when it was behind him. Very slowly, making no other movement, he lifted his hand away from his gun.
    “All right?” Rio asked me, not taking his eyes from Tresting.
    “Sweet of you,” I said, “but I’ve got it covered.”
    Rio nodded. He didn’t lower the shotgun, though.
    Tresting was looking at me, his eyes unreadable, and I relented slightly. “Besides, he wasn’t drawing on me. It’s okay.”
    Rio hesitated a moment longer, and then the sawed-off disappeared whisper quickly into his duster. He stepped carefully around Tresting, still keeping half an eye on him. “You’re late,” he said to me.
    “Ran into some complications.”
    Rio twitched his head at Tresting. “He one of them?”
    “Sort of.”
    “I think the motorcycle gang hit squad I helped run off you has me beat,” Tresting said. I could tell he was trying for lightness, but his tone was strained, and