by Cathryn Cade
Scala twitched like a drugger under his hand.
“Relax,” he said in her ear, so she could hear him over the bad tekrock the band was pounding out. “You’re fucking ready to leap out of your skin.”
“Right,” she replied, trying to twist out of his hold. “Like you care.”
For some reason, he wanted her right where she was. She was annoying and he didn’t trust her a centimeter, but she was his crew now, which made her his. And he looked out for his people.
He tightened his grip on her neck, scanning the room for the man they were to meet. “I don’t care, except you’re getting on my last nerve.”
She snorted. “You don’t have any.”
That was true. His nerves had been cauterized long ago, seared away by living so long with death looking over his shoulder it became meaningless.
“The local gestapo is not going to find you,” he said, leaning in to give what no doubt looked like a lover-like nip on her earlobe, except he let his teeth sink into the tender flesh hard enough to sting. She tasted fresh and smelled like pure sin. “That scrambler is strong enough to hide a skrog ... not that your ass is that big.”
She hissed with anger and elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
“My ass is stellar. Not that you’ll ever know.” Fluttering her lashes at him, she leaned in and flicked her pink, forked tongue over the corner of his mouth.
It left a wet glow there, as if she’d branded him. The flicker of heat shot straight to his cock. He let go of her neck.
“Not like your tights hide anything, Snake Eyes. You put that forked tongue on me again, and I’ll drop you to your knees where you can do some good with it.”
He felt her smirk of satisfaction. “You liked it?”
“As someone said to me recently—you’ll never know.”
“You about done flirting? Because I think I see our man,” Darry said behind them. “By the back wall.”
Tal ignored the idiocy about flirting. He never flirted. He negotiated, he connived, he seduced. He didn’t need to flirt, for fuck’s sake. “I see him. Come on.”
He forged through the crowd toward the back of the huge bar, knowing they’d follow him. He did need to get his mind back on business. Sex was secondary, always.
Their contact was a burly man with a clean-shaven skull and a tattoo of a serpent up one arm, with a word on it in script Tal couldn’t read. The man nodded a greeting and took another drink of his ale, watching them over the top of the bottle. Veganut shells littered his small table around an empty bowl.
“‘Laala?’” Scala asked, looking at the snake tattoo. “That your lady?”
The man relaxed slightly. “She is. You Serpentian too?”
“I am. I’m...Soli.”
“Hey, Soli. I’m Tom.”
“Buy you another ale?” Tal asked, pulling out a stool across the table from the man. He kicked out the stool next to him and gave ‘Soli’ a look. She slid onto the stool.
Darry pulled out another for Trix, who shook her head. “I’ve gotta use the lav.” She headed off through the crowd.
“I’ll have another drink,” Tom agreed.
“I’m going to dance,” Scala announced, sliding off her stool. She winked at Tal. “Since you like to watch my ass so much.”
Darry stood to one side, his back to the wall, keeping watch. Or maybe just admiring Scala, who was already swaying to the music as she worked her way through the crowd to the edge of the dance floor. Luckily for Tal, she was also in his line of sight. He watched as she raised her slender arms and writhed with uninhibited grace. He and Darry weren’t the only ones watching her, either. Tal exchanged a look with his lieutenant at the lustful gazes turning her way. The woman had something, an untamed sensuality that was riveting even in this largely Serp crowd.
Their waitress, a Serp in a brief costume, delivered their drinks. Tal took a sip of fire-whiskey, grimacing at the heat. He could drink the stuff, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. He twirled the small beaker in his fingers, turning his gaze back to the man they’d come to find.
“You have some information for me,” he said. “About a woman who flew in last week.”
Tom nodded, his mouth flattening as he leaned forward over the table. “Yeah. Bitch had a cruiser that’d been depoted here for months, needed a new reactor fuel core and a tune-up. I did the work, she slithered out of here without paying me a single credit. I may have agreed to keep quiet about where she was headed, but that was before she stiffed me.”
“That sounds like the woman I’m after. You tell me her destination, I’ll pay double what she owed you.”
Tom toasted Tal with his fresh bottle of ale. “You’ve got a deal. Only thing is...” he looked uneasy but determined. “I’d want the credit first. You understand.”
“I do,” Tal said mildly. “You’ve had bad luck lately. Darry?”
“Huh? Oh, on it.” Darry jerked his mesmerized gaze from the dance floor and opened a link. Soon a satisfied Tom was ready to talk.
“They filed a flight plan with the IGSF to head north on Serpentia to Gavial City,” he told Tal. “But I was working on the cruiser while her pilot jawed on his com. People never pay attention to the mechanic, y’know? Once you’re under the chassis, it’s like you’re part of the works. Anyway, he said they were making a detour straight south, to the Lure Valley. Resort area for the wealthy. Remote, but beautiful.
“It’s an oasis,” he added, his brows flying up when Tal didn’t react. “Highly prized real estate here. They don’t call these the desert planets for no reason.”
He grinned. “Maybe I’ll take Laala up there for a weekend, now that I got some credit.”
“All right,” Tal said. “We’re done here.”
Tom saluted Tal with his ale. “Nice doing business with you. You need any repairs while you’re here, I’m your man.”
“We’re just passing through.” Tal rose and turned, looking for Scala. He was prepared to drag three or four males away to get to her. But although two human males were vying for her attention, she stood like a lovely statue among the other dancers, her face like stone.
Tal followed her gaze to a large group of people making their way through the crowded bar. They wore fancy-ass flight suits, some pearl gray and others bright golden yellow.
Tal forged his way onto the floor, tossing one of her admirers out of his way.
“Who are you watching?” Tal demanded, stepping between her and the group. She knew them, that was obvious. If she didn’t snap out of it, they were going to spot her too.
As if freed from a spell, she blinked, and focused on him. Her sexy eyes were haunted. She ducked into the shelter of his body, her face turned into his shoulder. “They’re LodeStar—ships guard and crew. The Orion or one of the other cruise ships. I can’t let them see me.”
Suddenly his warrior seemed in need of protecting. His arm going around her, Tal looked over his shoulder at the jovial group. Yeah, he could picture her as one of them, strong and confident and laughing.
Now, she looked shattered. He moved, herding her with him in the opposite direction.
“Hey, I was gonna dance with her,” protested a man in a stained flight suit.
“Try it and I’ll cut your throat,” Tal informed him.
The skinny male’s eyes widened. He scrambled back out of the way, jostling other dancers who scarcely seemed to notice. Just business as usual at the Black Hole.
Darry fell in step with them as they emerged from the writhing mass of dancers.
“We’ll go out the back,” Tal said.
“Good, we can collect Trix,” Darry said grumpily. “She should’ve been back from the lav by now. Christ, I hope she’s not sick again.”
Chapter Seven
Trix wasn’t in the back hallway outside the lavs. Darry peered at Scala. “Can you go in and check on her? I’d go, but last time, I tangled with a Mau female who took exception to a male in the female’s lav. She was bigger’n me. A
lot bigger.”
“What?” It took Scala a sec to focus on what he was saying.
She felt sick herself, after so nearly bumping into her old crewmates. She’d been so proud to be one of them, and so arrogant, thinking nothing could ever topple her from her exalted status.
Now she felt sick with shame at the thought of them spotting her, their smiles turned to disgust. She’d be lucky if they didn’t kick the crap out of her before calling the cops.
Tal smacked her ass, and gave her a nudge toward the women’s lav. “Snap out of it, Snake Eyes. Go check on Trix. If she’s sick, come get Darry.”
“Right. Okay.” She moved to obey like an automaton.
Inside the big lav, however, other concerns swept away her puny problems.
A huge orange-skinned being with ugly bulging musculature and an enormous bald head held Trix up against the wall with one huge paw, while he yanked at her tights with the other. A Gorglon and a drunk one. He was so inebriated he was weaving on his big, ugly feet.
Scala felt a slash of guilt, as if her snide warning to Trix had materialized.
Then molten fury overtook her, and her battle instincts kicked in. Peripherally, Scala noted that one of the lav stalls was closed tight, its user no doubt cowering silently until the trouble was over. No help there, but only one opponent. Easy as raising the hair on a Pangaean.
Trix struggled furiously, her face nearly purple with rage as she fought her captor. “Let me go, you big baboon! I’ll kill you!”
The being made a horrible gargling sound that must be laughter. “Shaamat maz, kala. A granaat da.”
“Hey!” Scala yelled. “Put her down!”
She launched herself across the small room, vaulting off the dingy counter that held the sinks and landed on the Gorglon’s back, reaching around to gouge at his eyes.
With a bellow of pain, he staggered sideways, reaching back to grab her. But she was already gone, leaving a gash on the side of his neck with her small blade. Dark blood spurted, splattering her tank and arms.
The Gorglon roared again. With a heave of his huge shoulders, he threw Scala back. She slammed against the door of the toilet—the closed one, thank goddess. She dropped to her feet and ducked a huge fist, peering around him at Trix, who was draped over the counter, one hand to her throat, gagging.
“Trix, run!”
But Trix straightened with murder in her eyes and a blade in her own hand. “Not a chance,” she gritted. “He grabbed my tits. Nobody grabs my lady parts.”
Great, now she had to distract the Gorglon long enough to get Trix out of the way. Scala hit her com. “Hey!” she yelled. “A little help in here, please!”
“Bah, shaalah gah!” the Gorglon roared, lumbering toward her.
Her com translated his threat, but she really didn’t have time to listen. It was no doubt some variation on kill, maim or dismember, with rape somewhere in the mix.
She leapt up, braced herself against the lav door, and kicked out with all her might, striking him in the chest.
He staggered backward, tripped over Trix’s outstretched leg, receiving a new slash on his arm from her blade as he toppled backward through an open door into an empty stall. A muffled shriek of terror came from the next stall.
The main door slid open and Tal raced in, laser weapon out and aimed, Darry close behind him.
“What the fuck is going on?” Tal snarled.
“Gorglon,” Trix managed, pointing at the burly legs and feet sticking out of the stall as the Gorglon struggled to rise. “Tried … to rape me.”
Darry gave a snarl of pure rage, shouldering past Tal to grab Trix and push her behind him. “Out of the way, baby. He’s mine now.”
The Gorglon emerged from the stall, and Darry fired. The red laser fire streaked across the small space and struck the huge being in the groin. He let out a bellow of agony, and grabbed at his burning pants.
The female in the other stall screamed, and then burst into noisy tears.
“There,” Darry snarled to the gargling Gorglon. “You wanted to stick your cock somewhere hot? It’s smokin’ now.” He followed up with a kick. The Gorglon screamed.
Adrenaline and fury still racing through her veins, Scala kicked the closed stall door. “Shut up in there, you little coward. A lot of help you were.”
The crying stopped. “Leave me alone,” a tearful voice quavered. “I’m linking the police right now.”
The main lav door opened behind Tal.
“Leaping lizards,” said an all-too familiar voice. “What’s going on in here?”
“Oh, snake shit,” Scala muttered. She knew the blonde Serpentian clad in golden yellow peering over Tal’s shoulder. The woman’s eyes met hers and widened.
“You!” Yvene hissed. “What are you doing on planet?”
Tal turned on her, laser still in his hand. “We were just leaving. If you’ll get the hells out of our way.”
The veteran Serpentian guard took one look at him, and backed out of the lav, hands up before her in pacification. “I’m going. No problem.”
“Come on,” Tal pulled Scala along with him through the door. “We’ve got about a minute before there are cops all over this place.”
Out in the hallway, Yvene stood beside a Serpentian male with bright green hair. Izard’s eyes narrowed when he saw Scala.
“You. Might have known it would be you in the middle of a brawl.”
She managed an answering sneer before Tal pulled her past the couple.
“Shut up,” Trix cried hoarsely behind Scala. “She just saved me from rape—and worse. So you don’t trash talk her, I don’t care who you are.”
“Fucking uniforms,” Darry added. “You want to actually deserve those fancy suits? Do something about the big pile of trash in the women’s lav.”
Scala had only one glimpse of the two guards’ looks of identical shock, before Tal yanked her around a bend in the passageway.
She was smiling as she followed Tal. She was still reviled by her old crewmates, but it seemed she’d been accepted by her new ones.
Tal pushed open a door and peered out into the dry, dusty alley behind the bar. It smelled strongly of garbage and urine, but it was empty of sentient life. It was also shadowed, dusk having fallen while they were inside.
“You three can bond later,” he snarled. “Get your asses up on the roof and onto the cycles before the cops get here.”
* * *
On the Z, Tal pushed Scala into a seat in the cabin. “Strap in, we’re getting out of here. Where the hells is Dalg?”
She’d had enough of Darkrunner’s rough handling. She opened her mouth to tell him so but he disappeared into the cockpit. The Mau thundered up the gangplank, his slablike face set in a fearsome scowl, his clothing disordered, shirt flapping open.
“Why the quarking hurry? I was making time with that gorgeous stripper.”
“Because we’re about to have the local cops on our tail,” Tal said.
“Only got one quick fuck,” the Mau muttered, shouldering his way into the cockpit.
“Poor guy,” Scala said, stifling a snicker as she caught Darry’s horrified gaze.
He shook his head. “No way. Did you see that stripper? Her tits hung down to here.” He shuddered dramatically.
“Well, I’m glad we’re leaving,” Trix croaked, already back to her insouciant self. “I don’t think much of this port.”
She flung herself into the seat next to Scala and reached for the safety harness.
“No one does,” Scala said dryly. “The name is a joke. You notice there’s no real city, just the space port and a bunch of warehouses.”
As the ship leapt to life under them, Darry put one hand on the bulkhead to steady himself and cast an assessing look over Trix. “You okay, babe?”
She winced, one hand on her throat, which was now mottled with purple bruises. “Throat hurts like a bitch, but I’ll get a gesic as soon as we’re up.”
“How about you?”
<
br /> It took Scala a moment to realize he was talking to her. “Oh. I’m fine. Thanks.”
“All right.” He disappeared into the cockpit.
Scala looked out a porthole to see the walls of the bay sliding past outside. As soon as they were out into the clear night air, power surged, pressing her back into her seat as the earth shot away under them, leaving the star-filled night sky around them.
As soon as the craft leveled out, both women unfastened the safety harnesses. Scala stood and stretched, wincing as tight muscles protested. She always paid a price for the quick fury of a fight. “Maybe I’ll have one of those gesics too.”
Trix nodded, her gamine face for once serious. “Thanks for what you did in there. That Gorglon scared the hells out of me. He was so big and I couldn’t get my blade out.”
Scala accepted her thanks with a nod. “I won’t stand by and let another female be molested. Thanks for speaking up for me with those two from LodeStar.” She grinned crookedly, remembering the looks on the faces of the two Serpentians.
Trix smiled. “My pleasure. Y’know, they looked like they had titanium rods up their asses. You’re better off with us.”
Leaning up, she kissed Scala on the lips. Her lips were soft and lush, and tasted of cinnamon. “I could be persuaded to do more,” she whispered, eyes twinkling, her small hands sliding up over Scala’s ribs. “Y’know, to show my gratitude.”
“Careful,” Scala replied. “I might accept.”
She cupped Trix’s cheek in her hand and kissed her back, sucking the redhead’s plump lower lip between her own. Their tongues met and played. It felt good, as did Trix’s warm hands on her back, and the brush of her soft braids on Scala’s face.
“Oh, my Gawwd,” Darry groaned from across the room. “Please say yes, Trix, please!”
Scala surprised herself by laughing.
“No show tonight,” she said, stepping back. “Maybe another time. Right now Trix needs a gesic and some rest.”
