“You’re just a con artist!”
Rahal laughed, and despite everything it tickled her bones. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, kitten. It’s a profession with a long, illustrious history on our planet. Only you were raised by a Furagi priest and an actual-factual nonscamming hero, so I guess you wouldn’t know that.”
She did know it. Her fathers had tried to make sure she knew her species’ culture, and hadn’t tried too hard to overcome her natural prankishness. Stars knew, she’d pulled off her own share of minor cons in her life, and even Gan, serious as he was, had been proud of some of them. But conning a whole planet was…
Brilliant, really.
If only she’d been in on the joke.
But she hadn’t been.
“You lied to me, though. You both did. I… Did I fall in love with men who don’t exist at all?”
She realized what she’d said too late to take it back.
Fine. She’d admitted it, shown her weakness. But maybe it was time to stop the playing-it-cool game, stop all the games, just lay it all out.
“I fell in love with you both. I feel like the three of us belong together, actually-factually permanently. Only I don’t know if I love you two or Warlord Rahal Mizyar, a creation of a master of marketing illusion, and Karn the Viking as played by Cal Janssen. I mean Cal seems cosmic too, but which one do I love?”
Tears were rising and she couldn’t be bothered to fight them back. Let them see they’d hurt her. If they were real at all, if they cared for her as a person and not just another piece on the game board, it would matter to them. And if they weren’t and they didn’t, she’d know and find a way to play them too.
“For some dumb reason, I trusted you both. Now I learn I’m some marling rich politician’s granddaughter, which is why Cal was interested in me in the first place, and then I learn I’m just another pawn in your games.”
Neither man said anything, but Cal reached for her. She evaded him, not trusting herself to feel that touch and not yield. And Rahal’s touch would be worse because, marling stars, she understood his game, even admired it. If only he’d let her in on it sooner.
She stared from one silent man to the other—they were frozen in place, she thought, like handsome statues—then turned and fled the room.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
She knocked aside milling guards and palace personnel that were still making repairs after the invasion. A couple of them tried to stop her—by now everyone, including the cleaning ’bots, had figured she and Rahal were an item—but she ignored their shouts and dodged their attempts to block her way. One big guy whose species she couldn’t identify made the mistake of trying to grab her. He was about twice her mass, but she was able to use his momentum and weight against him to toss him aside. He crashed into a particularly ugly urn, which broke most gratifyingly. She hadn’t broken him nearly as dramatically; he was cursing and struggling to his feet almost immediately, but it was enough to give everyone else a strong hint to back off.
The palace had never seemed so large, not even when she’d been tracking Belesku. But she finally reached the front entrance and bolted outside.
She started running in a random direction through streets that looked almost sedate this close to the palace. Though the tattered light of dawn showed many of the buildings were damaged from years of fighting, they’d at least been repaired. She had only one thought and that was to get away. Away from the palace, away from the men who’d lied to her, even away from family and friends she knew she could trust. She’d need to figure out how to tell them they’d all been deceived by a warlord who wasn’t as tough as he claimed to be.
Though he and Cal-not-the-Viking, with help from one cat-girl and Buck, had taken down a couple of the reputed toughest people in the galaxy.
Which made her want to ponder, except she really, really didn’t want to think.
She wanted to run. Not too long ago, angry as she was, she’d have been falling into cold darkness with a desperate need to draw blood. She knew now that it wasn’t true. Knew where the cold darkness came from and how to fight it without hurting anyone.
But the warmth she’d found in connecting to others had frozen over, and if she wasn’t going to make something bleed, she’d better revert to an older way of defending herself from the dark—doing something active and totally crazy. No cliff faces to climb here, but if she kept moving, she could probably find some safe outlet. Maybe, if she was lucky, just running would be enough.
She’d already left the semilegit neighborhood near the palace behind. She wasn’t sure where she was—it wasn’t the space-trash central where she and Karn had taken out the pedophile, and it wasn’t the seedy but vibrant commercial district where they’d found the brothel. This area was new to her, a mix of colorful housing complexes that looked decent from the outside, though they were already starting to take on the city’s generally shabby air, and some small shops and food stalls. Most of the shops were still shuttered and barred except for one that sold coffee and what smelled like scrambles on a wrap, the spicy kind that involved lizard eggs and Xylac hot peppers. Naked girders of buildings still in progress stood stark against the reddened sky. The streets were quiet. Too quiet for Xia’s current mood. There was very little to distract her, certainly no one to fight.
Only one thing to do, then.
The nearest construction site was fenced in, and they’d obviously been thinking about agile species like felinoids when they put up the fence. It wasn’t just that it was tall. Tall wasn’t an obstacle. Wire fences offered great handholds. Almost too easy, except it curved outward at the top and was topped with nasty-looking razor-edged shock wire. Shock wire wouldn’t kill most species, but it would make you wish you were dead for a while, and falling from the top of the fence could kill you if you landed wrong, especially considering the number of sharp things you could land on at a construction site.
For a second, she wished Rita were with her. The human woman would have some gadget that would disable the shock wire.
Then again, even thrill-kinky Rita would probably try to talk her out of what she was trying to do.
Which was avoid the whole shock-wire issue by jumping over it to the scaffolding on the other side.
It would be a crazy jump for most species except the winged ones. But it might be doable for a fit felinoid. She’d have a great story to tell, especially if she could then reach the top of the unfinished building, which was already taller than most of the city.
And if she fell…well, that would suck, but at least she wouldn’t need to worry about lying men, unexpected family in high places and one more damn set of people who wanted to kill her. Either she’d be dead, or by the time she got out of the regen tank, everyone including the various assassins would have gotten bored and moved on.
If she lost her balance, she’d have to try to hit the shock wire before she hit the ground. Limp, she might actually survive the fall.
She began to climb.
As she figured, the fence itself was easy.
The part that bent outward was only a little bit harder, though the wire got sharp up there and for once she wished she had climbing gloves like Rita favored.
She couldn’t actually jump over the wire. The curve in the fence was too extreme. She’d have to swing herself out, release like a gymnast, twist in midair…
Not exactly easy peasy bloxfruit squeezy, but doable. And fun.
She swung out, gathered her energy, flung herself up…
And barely, with a lot of awkward scrambling, made it safely to the other side. Her tail brushed the shock wire, and it hurt like blazes, but wasn’t enough to disable her.
Now the scaffolding was a short jump away, and this time she could push off from the inward curve of the fence, which was way easier.
She landed in a solid crouch on the narrow beam, her heart pounding with
excitement. From there, it was a straightforward climb—so simple she had to assume most of the workers were human or some other awkward species—to get to the actual building framework.
Narrow beams, no safety netting, no real handholds. Yeah, that’s what she needed.
She began to walk along the nearest girder as if it were a city street.
Got to a corner, shimmied up to the next level.
Lather, rinse and repeat.
She was up quite high, not atmosphere scraping, but six or seven levels above the top of the fence when she heard the first shouts.
The workers had started to show up for the day—who knew construction workers started their days when the sun was barely up?—and she’d been spotted.
At first it was all fun and good, because most of them didn’t have a prayer of catching up to her.
Until a Banjali arrived.
That fucker could fly, which was going to be problematic.
Then the humans started strapping on their jetpacks and firing them up.
She hadn’t thought of that. Of course they’d have jetpacks, which made working high above the ground safer for nonflying species. In this case, though, they made it easier to pursue an interloper on their worksite.
Everything started moving way too fast.
She wasn’t entirely sure how she ended up on a small platform too marling high above the ground for her taste, maybe too high even for a Banjali, and they went in for freaky airborne sex. Wasn’t sure how she ended up with a metal pipe in her hands because it worked better for fending off the jetpack guys than her claws.
Wasn’t sure how she ended up sending a climber and a jetpack wearer tumbling to the ground. At least the jetpack guy had a chance of pulling out of the dive she’d accidentally sent him into. The other poor idiot was doomed.
She hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone, just wanted to keep them off her, but they wouldn’t stop coming, no matter how often she yelled that she wasn’t stealing anything, just having a bit of fun.
Once she knocked the guy off the platform, though, they weren’t going to stop until they tore her apart.
And the more they kept coming, the less she cared that she’d killed at least that one guy, and maybe Jetpack Dude, unless he’d gotten his pack started again. The cold set in, despite it being a hot morning, and she fought in the dark, even though it was light out by now. Her conscious mind had no memory of how to fight with a staff and yet she was handling it expertly.
More training from her childhood, trapped in muscle memory.
More ways to kill people that she hadn’t known she knew.
But that training was a long time ago, and she was tiring. She’d dealt with two bombers and a pedophile yesterday, and she and Rahal hadn’t bothered with sleeping. She was outnumbered. She couldn’t hold them off forever.
Another jetpack, a more powerful one, whirred up behind her. No, two of them.
She wheeled around, spinning the staff.
Overtired, she slipped, felt herself falling off the edge of the platform.
This is it, she thought, and closed her eyes. She dropped the staff and reached for a handhold she knew she wouldn’t find…maybe from one of the jetpackers who had no reason to help her.
A strong hand caught her tail, pulled her up hand over hand. It hurt more than splatting on the pavement would, but since splatting on the pavement wouldn’t hurt because she’d be dead instantly, she welcomed the pain.
Another set of male arms grabbed her, pulled her close. Desperately, she clung with arms and legs, driving her claws into his jacket for extra purchase.
Rahal.
She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that scent, the feel of his body.
Which meant the one with the death grip on her tail was Cal.
The neurorelay.
She should have known the neurorelay would allow them to trace her.
She just hadn’t assumed they’d bother.
Even though she was a killing distance above the ground, she felt safe, surrounded by light and warmth again.
One of the construction workers shouted, “The warlord! We are so fucked!”
Rahal’s chuckle reverberated through her brain. “I understand the impulse to kill Xia. I have it myself sometimes and I love her. But you have to get in a long, long line. And you have to go through me and Cal, who makes me look like a Bellaphor fainting nun.”
“Lies and calumny, but I have lots of firepower and I love her too.”
“Nice rant,” Xia said into his chest, “but can you get us down now?”
Only when they reached the ground again and started running did she realize what they’d said.
They loved her.
And running for the flyer they’d hidden around the corner, she yelled to them and the universe, “I love you both, you devious, lying bastards! You’re mine. Both of you. I’m not sure what that means, but you’re mine.”
“You say the sweetest things,” Rahal purred. “Love you too, kitten. Knew you were my mate from the second I saw you. Love you too, Cal or whoever you are today, so I guess that means I have two mates.”
Cal simply yelled, “Thank you, gods!” to the morning at the top of his powerful lungs.
Once they were in the shuttle, Cal sighed. “What the hell do we do now, though? I’d like to ask you both to marry me. But Rahal has a district to run. I accidentally made a contract with someone even Nitari Belesku described as a zelacxi, and I have a feeling he won’t take well to me disappearing. And Xia already has enough assassins after her without acquiring any more because of me.”
Xia shrugged. “What’s another assassin or two? Assholes keep sending them. We’ll keep taking them down. We’re a good defeating-evil team.”
“That gives me an idea,” Rahal said, speculative gleam in his eyes. “It’s probably crazy.”
“Of course,” Xia and Cal said simultaneously.
But they listened.
And in the end they agreed that while it was a crazy idea, it wasn’t a bad one at all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Freelance law enforcement? Tracking down the bad guys legally instead of having to break laws to do it?” Mik hugged her. “Did you hear that, everyone? Our little girl’s grown up, going legit and flying away from us!”
“I’m so proud of you, kitten.” Gan beamed in a particularly alarming Furagi way. “And so amused by the way you guys did it. Only you three would have to blow up half of the palace and fake Rahal’s death to go legit.”
Rahal snorted quietly.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Daddies.” She kissed Mik on the cheek then stretched and managed to reach Gan’s tattooed chin. “You’re not rid of me yet. I’ll still visit the Malcolm a lot.”
“In fact, we were hoping we could join you for a while after our side trip to Mrrwr to meet Xia’s grandmother, sir,” Cal asked in his most polite smoothstyle voice. “My shuttle got destroyed in the rioting.”
“Don’t complain. My everything got destroyed in the rioting. Who knew that my pretending to be dead would upset everyone so much?” Rahal tried to sound nonchalant too, but he failed utterly. Xia knew he was genuinely upset that his decision to escape the responsibilities of governance had created so much havoc. “Care to adopt a homeless cat-boy, Mik? I promise I’ll be entertaining company.”
Xia scratched him between his ears, a companionable gesture between partners. She was still getting used to having partners in work as well as in life, but she liked moments like this. “Don’t go trying to be too good company to everyone else, Rahal. I don’t know if you or Gan would win a fight, but you’d do each other a world of damage, and he’s the jealous type. Plus, Buck doesn’t bend that way.”
“You’re kind of like the sunset on the planet Salimpour,” Buck said genially. “Gorgeous, but I don’t want to fuck it
. Or maybe more like the volcanoes on Salimpour, because you’re pretty but dangerous. No offense.”
“None taken. You just compared me to a Salimpour volcano. That’s awesome.”
“What’s awesome?” Rita bustled into the galley, wiping her hands on a rag that looked suspiciously like the relatively new shirt Drax had been wearing the last time Xia saw him. Well, well! Rita had been asking her and Buck for advice about knives, but Xia didn’t know she was taking up that kind of hobby.
“Looks like we’re getting some new crewmates, Miss Rita. Rahal and Karn—Cal, that is—want to sign on for a while, while our Xia’s learning herself the freelance law trade.” Probably in reaction to Cal’s smooth voice, Mik’s accent was heavier than usual. He always sounded more hickish when he talked to smoothstyle types, though he was learning not to do it with Drax.
Or maybe it was from excitement. As a happily married type, he seemed genuinely thrilled Xia had found Rahal and Cal. And, stars knew, he was probably relieved she was looking at a legal way to earn a living. A dangerous legal way that involved a lot of sneaking around and the potential for violence, sure, but that was what made the job appealing.
Not that he wouldn’t have been just as supportive if she’d decided to go into, say, smuggling. After all, smuggling was practically a family tradition, along with crime fighting.
She had the best family ever.
Anyone she might meet on Mrrwr would be interesting to get to know, but Mik and Gan were her real dads.
And they both needed hugs, she decided. She sprang to her feet, ready to dart to them.
Then Rita spoke up, “Uh, Captain? Didn’t you forget something? Malcolm’s life support unit is only rated for six. I’ve been able to keep it going for the past few days, but it’s struggling. We’ll make it to Mrrwr tonight, but longer than that is a no-go. Too likely we’ll end up dead in our sleep. Gan and Drax are at the most risk because their species need more oxygen than the rest of us.”
Bad Kitty Page 20
