Her Cold-Blooded Mercenary

by Lea Linnett

  Now it was Taz’s turn to laugh. “You can’t be serious. You grew up on Origin. That’s about as levekk as it gets.”

  “You think where you’re born decides where you belong? Where were you born?”

  Taz bared her teeth. “That’s none of your business, lizard.”

  “Let me guess, a brothel?”

  “How fucking dare y—”

  “There you go.” The levekk sat back, the ever-present smile on his face taking on a hard edge. “If one of us belongs in a brothel, and the other on Origin, how is it that we’ve both ended up here?”

  Taz gaped at him, her knuckles turning white as they gripped the seat. “I’m here for my people,” she snarled. “Because of what your people have done to them.”

  “Well, ‘my people’ didn’t exactly do much good for me, either. I’ve got no allegiance to them.”

  “Typical mercenary bullshit,” she scoffed, curling her lip with disdain when he met her eye. “Let me guess. The only people worth anything to you are the ones who can supply you with credits. You don’t care where the money comes from as long as it fills up your credit account.”

  “I do care,” he snapped. “But I don’t always have the luxury of turning down credits when the alternative is starving. You should know what that’s like.”

  “Don’t pretend that you know anything about what it’s like for us,” she said, and to her relief, the levekk finally fell silent.

  They stayed that way for a while, but much to Taz’s annoyance, the silence soon turned tense rather than peaceful, like a bandage stretched over their previous conversation that could snap at any moment. Sighing with frustration, she leaned over, rapping on the partition with her knuckles.

  “Hey, Rekel. Are we close yet?”

  A soft buzz sounded, and their pindar teammate’s voice filtered through the transport’s internal speakers a moment later. “We’re about five minutes away. Check your weapons again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Everyone got their roles down?”

  “Yep,” said Kamanek, although he was still watching Taz pull out her gun for inspection with his eyes narrowed. “Novek Kriil, owner of a small-time mining operation on CL-20, reporting for duty.”

  “Mr. Kriil’s personal bodyguard,” Taz bit out in reply.

  “Good,” said Rekel. And then the speakers clicked off, leaving Taz alone with her torturer again.

  And far from leaving her in peace for the last few minutes of their journey, Kamanek leaned forward again, peering at her.

  “I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he said, his voice deepening soothingly as it rolled over her. She glared back, fighting down a shiver.

  “How sad.”

  “I was serious about getting to know each other. Even if we don’t agree on everything, we need to trust each other if we want this to work,” he said, and Taz rolled her eyes. “No, really. Ask me anything. Come on.”

  She should ignore him. She knew that. But there was something she was curious about, despite her better judgment. “Why did you come out here? If you wanted to make credits, you could do that elsewhere.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or did you just come here to harass people?”

  Kamanek had the audacity to smirk, but then his eyes turned more serious. “There’s not a lot of work out there for someone who’s wanted across most of the central sector,” he said quietly.

  Taz’s brows dipped sharply. “Oh. So you’re a criminal?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He sat back, crossing his arms. “I just pissed someone off. Someone who was petty enough to tear up my good reputation on my way out.”

  “Huh.” She looked him over, unable to tell much about him from surface details like his clothes or scales. He wore Mila’s stupid coat over a pitch black tactical vest and skintight trousers—typical mercenary gear. His only defining feature, really, was the set of filed down claws on his left hand. She gestured at them, her curiosity getting the better of her. “What about those? I thought it was shameful for a levekk to lose their claws.”

  Kamanek’s face lit up, and Taz immediately regretted asking. “It was a personal choice,” he explained. “No one took them from me. I’ve found that people are more… pleased by my touch when I get rid of some of the pointy bits.”

  A surge of blood rushed to Taz’s cheeks as she parsed his meaning, her lips clamping shut.

  “I could show you firsthand,” he teased. “Could be almost as fun as the fights we keep having.”

  Taz choked on whatever expletive was trying to force its way up her throat, turning her red face away. “You’re disgusting,” she hissed again, painfully aware that this wouldn’t be the last time she called him that.

  She could see him grinning widely out of the corner of her eye. “I’m not looking for anything serious. I won’t even force you to like me. I’m just offering some fun. I’ve been told I make a good distraction,” he said, and his gaze shifted to the window again, where buildings flashed by as their hover transport began its descent.

  Taz sidled closer to the partition, relieved when the whirring engine beneath them shifted in tone, signaling that Rekel was preparing to land. “I can’t allow myself the luxury of being distracted,” she muttered, not caring whether the levekk heard or not.

  She slammed out of the transport at the first opportunity, ignoring the heat staining her cheeks and the strange rhythm of her heart.

  4

  Taz exited into a darkened parking lot surrounded by metallic walls and ceilings. The only sunlight came from the lot’s entrance, a gap in the metal just wide enough to fit a single transport through, and it was lit instead by strips of red neon that lined the walls. The lights funneled them down a narrow corridor that brushed Rekel’s wide-set arms and forced Kamanek to bow his head, but the attempt at privacy didn’t make Taz feel safe.

  It made her feel trapped. The space was too small for her to even see past Rekel’s bulk, let alone swing a knife at an attacker.

  She was relieved when the path finally flared out into a vestibule, revealing two pindar flanking the door. Their eyes widened at the sight of Kamanek approaching, but they waved them inside, one of them leading the way. The other remained at his post, and Taz thought she saw him speak into a comm clipped to his collar as they passed. She tensed, placing a ready hand over the butt of her gun.

  “Cool it,” Kamanek muttered, making her jump.

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job.” Her ears pricked at the sound of soft music drifting towards them.

  He nudged her with an elbow and grinned. “And why don’t you trust me to do mine? I got this.”

  Taz frowned, letting him pull ahead of her again as they reached the brothel’s atrium. She had more important things to worry about.

  The atrium looked like a regular hub, albeit with far less patrons. A bar was tucked neatly against one wall with a small selection of alcohol on display behind it. The rest of the room was made up of small booths separated by heavy drapes, and a collection of lounges set up in loose circles. The only other customers were a pair of cicarians smoking in the corner, and while they watched the newcomers with interest, they didn’t appear to be armed. Taz ignored them, keeping an eye on the guards dotted around the room instead, especially the two who flanked the curtained doorway in the opposite corner.

  No one accosted them as they stepped up to the bar, where a cicarian was busy looking over an account book. She looked curiously at them when their pindar guard ordered her to fetch the brothel’s owner, but she soon returned with a round, well-fed human who was only a couple inches taller than Taz and who looked roughly twenty years her senior. He smiled widely as he stepped forward to touch the back of his hand to Kamanek’s palm in a formal greeting, but the look didn’t reach his eyes.

  Taz hated him already.

  “Good afternoon,” he said quickly, his eyes widening as he took in Kamanek’s full height. “My name is Jonson, and I’m the owner of this establishment. Who do I have the pleasure
of addressing?”

  “Novek Kriil,” the levekk said easily. “I run a mining operation on CL-20. Very small.”

  “Big enough to bring you to our humble colony,” said Jonson, ducking his head so subserviently that it made Taz’s blood boil. It was bad enough that a sub-species was running this place, but a human? She fought to keep the disgust from her face as he continued, “May I ask what brings you to New Chicago? And how did you come to hear about us?”

  Taz stiffened. Were they suspicious? She prepared to reach for her weapons, but Kamanek’s reply stilled her.

  “I was contacted by someone looking to mine just to the north of here,” he said, and then a wide grin cracked his face. “Quite a ways north, in fact. He wanted my expertise, but I didn’t realize just how cold it would still be here at this time of the year. Your planet really is quite fascinating. But you know what I told him?”

  “No, sir.”

  He waved his clawed hand, the clawless one hidden in his coat, and laughed. “Well, I told him I wouldn’t go a—what units do you use here?—a mile further. Said I wouldn’t leave the Senekkar unless it was for something truly magnificent. And you know what he said?”

  Jonson blinked stupidly. “Uh. No, sir.”

  “He told me to come here!” said Kamanek, looking around the room as if it were more than just a converted apartment complex in a dingy pleasure district. “He said the locals here were the most… welcoming that he’d ever encountered.”

  “Here?” Jonson repeated, his dark eyebrows climbing high.

  Taz had to admit she was similarly shocked. Not by the story, but by Kamanek himself. In the two minutes since they’d entered the brothel, he’d transformed. Gone was the sly, teasing trickster that had grated on her nerves the whole journey here, and in his place stood a levekk who appeared to be, for lack of a better word, a moron. His posture had straightened, but in a way that was oblivious rather than confident. His gestures had turned broad and uninhibited. He spoke with a tactlessness that made Taz’s skin crawl, and when she looked to Jonson, he seemed unsure what to make of his new customer.

  “Yes, here,” Kamanek answered dismissively. “Your establishment came very well-recommended. I can’t tell you by whom, of course. He’d rather not draw attention to himself. You understand, what with the interesting laws you have on this colony.”

  “O-of course,” Jonson said. “I’m sorry, if you felt I was prying. You must understand, it’s unusual for us to receive walk-ins in the middle of the day. Especially from clients such as yourself,” he added, looking Kamanek up and down. “We have to be careful.”

  “I understand.” Kamanek checked his wristlet—the one Carol had been setting up for him when Taz found them the day before—and sighed at the small timepiece that flashed on the holographic display. “I must point out that I don’t have all day, however. I’m due to meet my business partner in a few hours, and I’ll be leaving CL-32 tonight. A quick visit. So, if you can’t help me, I’m afraid I’ll have to be going…”

  Jonson grimaced, covering it with another duck of his head as he eyed Kamanek’s wristlet. “My apologies, sir. How can we help you today?”

  “Well, I’m visiting CL-32. It seems a shame not to sample something native to the planet…”

  “Of course.” He glanced behind him, signaling to the cicarian who hovered nearby. “Get Samantha ready.”

  Taz gritted her teeth, refusing to listen to the rest. Despite the false pretenses, what they were doing still felt too real. She didn’t want to hear the particulars of their exchange, and she wanted to line this human’s account with credits even less, so instead, she watched the room. The guards were silent, still as statues with their weapons ready.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when the transaction was over, and Jonson led them toward the curtained entrance to the rest of the brothel. Two guards stepped forward as they approached, and Taz froze as a laser rifle appeared before her, cutting her and Rekel off from Kamanek.

  “Your, uh, protection should wait down here in the lobby, sir,” Jonson said, his voice gaining an edge.

  Kamanek looked surprised. “Why?”

  “We would prefer if they—”

  “I’m afraid I must insist. I don’t feel safe without them by my side.”

  “We have plenty of security posted on every floor of this building, sir.”

  Kamanek stepped toward the human, placing a clawed hand on his arm and speaking low. “I don’t think you understand just how it would affect my… enjoyment of your fine establishment to be without them, Mr Jonson.” He glanced pointedly at Taz as he said this, and for a moment, the look in his eyes made her shiver almost pleasantly.

  Then, the portly human’s gaze followed, turning appreciative as he looked her up and down, and her skin crawled. She tried her best to school her features into something more stoic, as if this wasn’t news to her, but wasn’t sure she managed it.

  Kamanek tugged on the human’s arm, drawing his attention again. “This has never been an issue for me before. Most establishments understand my need for company.”

  Jonson’s mouth opened soundlessly as the levekk towered over him, and his voice cracked as he said, “Of course, sir. They will have to leave their weapons here, though.”

  “That’s fine.”

  It most certainly is not fine, Taz thought bitterly as she handed over her equipment. She almost kept the knife in her boot concealed, but tugged it out after a sharp look from Rekel. She didn’t need it to look after herself anyway.

  They stepped through the curtain into a tight staircase, and Jonson’s voice bounced off the walls as they ascended. Kamanek kept nodding along as if the human was the most fascinating person he’d ever spoken to, and the whole farce made Taz’s stomach curl. The feeling only worsened as they passed through the second set of curtains at the top of the stairs, and the sounds of the brothel hit them at full force.

  There were indeed guards at both ends of the narrow corridor, and Taz didn’t know how they stayed sane with all the noises coming through the closed doors that lined the hall. Talking, moaning, even crying—it made Taz’s head spin, and she gritted her teeth against the wave of anger that surged through her. Rekel hung back as they moved to follow Jonson up another staircase, and she felt a hard palm at her elbow. He said nothing, but she nodded gratefully to him all the same.

  On the next level, Jonson stuck his head into a room to check on its occupant, and then opened it with a flourish for Kamanek. It was as loud here as the rest of the brothel, and Taz was secretly thankful. It would be far easier to talk to whoever they’d ‘bought’ if they were drowned out by the rooms on either side.

  Kamanek smiled widely. “Thank you, Mr Jonson. You’ve been a great help. You stay outside,” he added to Rekel, before turning to Taz. “You come with me.”

  Taz fought down the twin shivers that ran through her. One was a trickle of cold as Jonson’s appraising gaze followed her through the door. The other was something warmer, which bottomed out low in her stomach like butterflies. But she couldn’t be nervous—she refused to be nervous—so she focused on the rage instead. A rage that only fanned higher when the door shut behind them and Kamanek grinned at her.

  “Not bad, huh?” he asked, moving to check around the room for what Taz presumed was cameras. She shook her head.

  “Don’t you ever do that again.”

  Kamanek turned almost lazily, rolling his eyes. “It got you in here, didn’t it?” he said in a low voice, so as not to be heard from outside. Not that it mattered much, what with the thumping noises coming from next door. “Trust me, a businessman with a kink is going to attract way fewer questions than a twitchy guy who insists on having bodyguards watch over him at all times.”

  Taz fumed, her hands balling into fists. “All I know is that if you use me like that again I’m going to rip your fucking balls off. If you monsters have any, that is.”

  Kamanek fought down a laugh at that, but before he could speak, a so
ft voice carried from the corner of the room, freezing them both mid-argument.

  “Can I help you?”

  A human woman, a couple years younger than Taz, stood in the doorway to the bathroom, staring at them with large eyes and an even larger bruise spreading over the left side of her face. The purple was blotchy, receding in odd places where she’d tried to hide it with makeup, although she’d obviously been rushed. Her cherry red lips were pressed together, and her fingers fisted the thin dress she wore as she mumbled, “I was told I’d only have one client…”

  “Don’t worry,” said Taz. “We’re not here for that. We’re here to help.” She stepped forward, intending to ease her obvious confusion, but Kamanek was one step ahead. The woman recoiled a little as he approached, looking down at his hand with wide eyes when he held it out to her.

  “Can I see that?” he asked. The woman moved cautiously, laying her forearm in his palm, and Taz saw now that her pale skin was mottled with another bruise, this one an even deeper purple than the one on her face. Kamanek turned her arm over, gently wiping some of the white powder away and stilling when she winced. “Sorry. Is there a med-kit in the bathroom?”

  She blinked at him. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He let go of her arm, slipping past her, and Taz might have thought he’d forgotten her entirely if he didn’t glance her way as he disappeared into the bathroom. She stared after him for a few moments, nonplussed by his behavior, before she remembered why they were here.

  “Come sit on the bed,” she said, trying for a soothing tone that wobbled precariously on the bed of lava her anger had left behind. “Tell me what happened to you.”

  The woman looked at Taz with wide eyes, but she came to sit beside her. “Oh, this? It’s nothing. Just my last client…”

  “When?”

  Her brow furrowed, and she winced when it aggravated her bruised face. “Yesterday. Mr. Jonson wouldn’t usually have me working today, but…” She gestured vaguely at Taz. “Walk-ins…”