Ricochet by Sandra Sookoo

couldn’t convert. They both laughed; then the bigger man wrestled Willa out of the top half of her slick gear as if she were a child’s doll. His hands raked over her breasts more times than could be considered acceptable. She slapped at his wandering fingers, even went so far as to bite his hand. It didn’t appear to faze him. To her left, Stratton growled in protest and surged to his feet. The leader of the bandits delivered a swift jab to Stratton’s rib cage, and he went down with a string of curses.
    Willa cringed at the pain on his face. She fisted a hand and got off a wild punch at one of her captors. The thief sitting on her legs moved and took the slick gear off the rest of the way. She couldn’t help the shivers of revulsion that shook her as he drew calloused hands down her legs.
    “Get off!” Her kick didn’t do much damage. His veil fell away to reveal a ragged scar down one side of his face. The angry welts marred his otherwise-smooth bronze skin, but more fascinating were the shallow gill-like slits on either side of his neck. That must be how his race breathed in the low-oxygen environment. “What race are you?” When he ignored her and leered, the ravaged part of his mouth twisted into a horrible mask. “You won’t get anything for the suits.” None of the men answered. “At least let us have the gravity belts. If you plan on keeping us for a slave sale, we’ll need to stay grounded.”
    A couple of the thieves grumbled in quick conversation. Shortly after, the belts were hurled in her direction.
    “Thanks.” She nudged Stratton with the toe of her boot once the thieves edged away to inspect the slick gear. Too bad the racing league had banned the self-destruct feature of the uniforms. It would have come in handy now. “The least you could do is stand up and be a man.”
    “No, the least I can do is what I’m doing now. Lying here, marshaling my strength, trying to breathe.” He coughed, struggling into a sitting position. “But, damn, I think I’ll just keep doing it while looking at you. If I’d known what you were hiding, I’d have tried harder to get you out of your clothes.”
    Bastard! She didn’t dignify the comment with a response, yet her cheeks blazed. Too tired to do much more than send a glare in the men’s direction, Willa scrambled to her feet. She retrieved her belt and slung it around her waist. The click of the buckle rang in the stillness. They could have the damned suit. She didn’t need it, but she did need her ship back. There was no way she’d be knocked out of the Nebulon Trike on the whim of a bunch of dirty thieves. She’d take her own life before she allowed any of their dusty, grubby selves to violate her body. As an afterthought, she considered her appearance.
    Stripped of her slick gear, she stood before Stratton with a defiant lift to her chin, his belt dangling from a finger. Her long hair had escaped its bindings and stirred around her shoulders in the slight breeze. The lace bra and panties she’d chosen to wear did little to hide her private parts and even now, under his scrutiny, she didn’t regret it. Donning such feminine clothes drove home the fact that she was not her father’s hoped-for fifth son. She was a woman and proud to be so, but she could also compete in a man’s world with the same ease, if not the same luck.
    Training her gaze on the men retreating into the Anomaly’s cargo hold, she ignored the heat infusing her face. Part of her thrilled that Stratton found her attractive, while the other part protested his interest had been piqued by her nearly naked state.
    All men suck, no matter what planet they’re from.
    “I hope you commit this”—she ran a hand down her body—“to memory, because you’ll never see it again.” A chance meeting of his gaze and the desire blazing from those dark depths hardened her nipples until they jutted against their lace covering. “We need to get off this rock.” She refused to stand