trust one, and you either don’t know how or you’re out of practice, right?”
The comment cut too close, too deep, but she had no choice but to ignore him. “We’re getting out of here. Now.” With a mighty shove, she pushed Stratton off her body, immediately missing the warmth and comfort he’d provided. Mentally consigning him to the darkest reaches of the galaxy, she jumped to her feet just as three thieves exited the Anomaly . Three of them, not counting the Caringa, carried armfuls of loot—Stratton’s and her slick gear, the bag of jewels from the previous leg of the race, various containers of nonperishable food, as well as weapons from the cargo hold. The fourth drove the quad rover out and continued on toward a dust-covered domed structure.
Willa eyed them, sizing each one up, and lifted her chin a few notches. She set her jaw, felt Stratton stand close to her. Now or never. She caught the gaze of the leader. “I’d like to negotiate terms.”
The leader of the group barked a command, and the crew halted. He shoved his spoils into the hands of his right-hand man and leveled a glare at her. “There are no terms. I told you what we planned to do with you. That’s the end of it.”
“Unacceptable.” She planted her hands on her hips, ignoring Stratton’s warning growl. “I demand the right to negotiate.” Fear trickled down her spine as the yellow-skinned Caringa edged toward her, HEPPs in two of its six hands. How accurate would his aim be?
“You have no rights here.” One of the leader’s large hands rested on the dagger at his belt. His fingers closed around its jeweled hilt. “You remind me of someone I met years ago.” His straggly hair waved in the breeze. “A Lingorian pilot. The man fought like mad and took home a hot wound for his efforts. Nearly opened his backside with one strike of a crowbar, but he gave his fair share of scars too.”
Willa’s fear evaporated, replaced by blinding anger. “My father.” In her mind’s eye, she saw the long, jagged white scar traversing her father’s back. He’d always claimed he’d received the injury while working on one of his ships. He’d never let on he’d been in a skirmish with these ruffians.
“Ah, that would explain the resemblance.” He rubbed a dirty hand over his jaw. “How fortuitous I can exact my revenge on his daughter.” The thief snapped his fingers, and the Caringa nodded. “Take Sin around back and rough him up as a welcome-back gift. We’ll sell him when the slave ship passes here again. The girl now belongs to me.”
“Like hell!” Stratton roared his protest, immediately ducking his head. He ran at the Caringa, bashing the alien in its midsection. They both went down in a cloud of red dust.
Sweat formed on her upper lip, chilling her skin in the thin air. Willa stared down the leader of the thieves, her eyes narrowed, her hands clenched into fists. She should punch the smug grin right off his hated face, but what a great opportunity to avenge her father. Maybe this time he’d be forced to acknowledge her as more than simply an offspring percolator.
“Talk or fight, bortwalla ,” she sneered, resisting the urge to giggle at her use of the Lingorian word for the parasites that fed on yak vomit. “Either way, I’m launching off this rock a free woman.”
Her adversary drew his dagger. “If you’re still alive once I’m done with you.”
Stratton choked back the bile in his throat as he fought with the Caringa. Despite his hands being bound, he’d managed to hold the alien at bay, as well as his fear of the six-armed hybrid. Maybe he’d simply gotten over it due to the danger of the moment. Didn’t matter, but it wasn’t enough. The longer he was detained by his adversary, the more danger Willa could potentially be in, although she was putting up one hell of a fight. He’d almost had a heart attack when she’d openly challenged the thief, looking like the end of the world in lace
The comment cut too close, too deep, but she had no choice but to ignore him. “We’re getting out of here. Now.” With a mighty shove, she pushed Stratton off her body, immediately missing the warmth and comfort he’d provided. Mentally consigning him to the darkest reaches of the galaxy, she jumped to her feet just as three thieves exited the Anomaly . Three of them, not counting the Caringa, carried armfuls of loot—Stratton’s and her slick gear, the bag of jewels from the previous leg of the race, various containers of nonperishable food, as well as weapons from the cargo hold. The fourth drove the quad rover out and continued on toward a dust-covered domed structure.
Willa eyed them, sizing each one up, and lifted her chin a few notches. She set her jaw, felt Stratton stand close to her. Now or never. She caught the gaze of the leader. “I’d like to negotiate terms.”
The leader of the group barked a command, and the crew halted. He shoved his spoils into the hands of his right-hand man and leveled a glare at her. “There are no terms. I told you what we planned to do with you. That’s the end of it.”
“Unacceptable.” She planted her hands on her hips, ignoring Stratton’s warning growl. “I demand the right to negotiate.” Fear trickled down her spine as the yellow-skinned Caringa edged toward her, HEPPs in two of its six hands. How accurate would his aim be?
“You have no rights here.” One of the leader’s large hands rested on the dagger at his belt. His fingers closed around its jeweled hilt. “You remind me of someone I met years ago.” His straggly hair waved in the breeze. “A Lingorian pilot. The man fought like mad and took home a hot wound for his efforts. Nearly opened his backside with one strike of a crowbar, but he gave his fair share of scars too.”
Willa’s fear evaporated, replaced by blinding anger. “My father.” In her mind’s eye, she saw the long, jagged white scar traversing her father’s back. He’d always claimed he’d received the injury while working on one of his ships. He’d never let on he’d been in a skirmish with these ruffians.
“Ah, that would explain the resemblance.” He rubbed a dirty hand over his jaw. “How fortuitous I can exact my revenge on his daughter.” The thief snapped his fingers, and the Caringa nodded. “Take Sin around back and rough him up as a welcome-back gift. We’ll sell him when the slave ship passes here again. The girl now belongs to me.”
“Like hell!” Stratton roared his protest, immediately ducking his head. He ran at the Caringa, bashing the alien in its midsection. They both went down in a cloud of red dust.
Sweat formed on her upper lip, chilling her skin in the thin air. Willa stared down the leader of the thieves, her eyes narrowed, her hands clenched into fists. She should punch the smug grin right off his hated face, but what a great opportunity to avenge her father. Maybe this time he’d be forced to acknowledge her as more than simply an offspring percolator.
“Talk or fight, bortwalla ,” she sneered, resisting the urge to giggle at her use of the Lingorian word for the parasites that fed on yak vomit. “Either way, I’m launching off this rock a free woman.”
Her adversary drew his dagger. “If you’re still alive once I’m done with you.”
Stratton choked back the bile in his throat as he fought with the Caringa. Despite his hands being bound, he’d managed to hold the alien at bay, as well as his fear of the six-armed hybrid. Maybe he’d simply gotten over it due to the danger of the moment. Didn’t matter, but it wasn’t enough. The longer he was detained by his adversary, the more danger Willa could potentially be in, although she was putting up one hell of a fight. He’d almost had a heart attack when she’d openly challenged the thief, looking like the end of the world in lace
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