B Clones (Clones #1) - Laurann Dohner Page 0,49
were drinking booze as well.”
Mick snorted. “Did you find hype injectors?”
Blade nodded. “There was a box of them, and some had been used.”
“I guess they didn’t get that warning being transmitted about the recent deaths.” Craig chuckled. “And that, boys, is why we don’t do drugs and only sell them. It’s a government conspiracy to wipe out the riffraff. They probably poisoned that crap themselves.”
“This shuttle is a Varlius model. It’s got a tracking system. They were due somewhere, with this much cargo. The tracker will be automatically activated when they don’t arrive on time. It’s an anti-theft measure.” Blade couldn’t allow them to return the Morgan to their hub. Hailey would quickly be found. “Corbo Corp will send out an all-frequency activation and the beacon will transmit the ship’s location to every authority cruiser. It’s part of the warranty package on these models. I can disarm it, but I’ll need help. It’s a two-man job.”
“Not a problem. Go with him, Mick. We’ll finish offloading this shit and tow this fine piece of machinery home.” Clint paused, staring at Blade. “Pull out that law report thing I let you keep, see if anything has been sent about this ship.”
Blade withdrew his data bank. He was the only one who could access it, since the devices were synced to each owner’s DNA, otherwise the pirates wouldn’t have allowed him to keep it. It was basically a transmission receiver of any alerts sent out by the space authorities. It also stored information on criminal offenders. Blade had been assigned the device on Clone World, to make certain none of the incoming guests were being actively sought or had a history of committing heinous crimes.
He’d taken it with him when they’d fled. It’s how he knew the owner of CW hadn’t made an official report to the authorities about their escape.
He looked up at Clint. “There’s nothing about the Morgan.”
“Good.” Clint turned away. “Let’s finish moving all this shit. Get that fucking tracking system offline.”
Craig grumbled. “Why don’t we just haul the cargo in this ship?”
“We’ll get more if we divide it before we return home. You know everyone’s going to see this ship when we haul it into port, and they’ll try to sneak aboard to steal whatever they can.” Clint’s humor fled. “How many times do I have to tell you that, idiot? Their focus will be on this ship, instead of ours.”
“Right. Sorry. It’s just that these crates are heavy.”
Clint glared at Blade. “Make damn sure you deactivate that tracker. You know one fuck-up and the group will take you out.”
“I’m aware.” Blade forced a smile. “I’m grateful that I wasn’t floated in space.”
Mick removed his work gloves and moved toward him. “You’re as big as an ox, and as strong as one, too. You also kick ass with technology. You’re one of the best finds we’ve ever picked up. That’s why we didn’t shove your ass out an airlock. Where do we need to go?”
“The cockpit.” Blade spun, leading the way.
Mick followed. The other man began cursing before they’d even reached the living area of the ship. “Fuck! What is that stench?”
“Four decaying bodies.”
“Why didn’t you float them?”
“I figured someone else could do that while I deactivate the tracker. I said it was a two-man job.”
Mick pulled his weapon and pointed it at Blade. “You’re going to do the dirty work.?”
He raised his hands in submission. “Okay.”
“I give you the orders.” He pointed the gun at Blade’s crotch. “You don’t need a dick to lift crates and repair shit. Do replacement skins care about keeping their junk?”
Blade clenched his jaw and gave a sharp nod. He hated it when they called him that. It was an insult. He also didn’t like being threatened with castration.
“Good. No more implying I do anything beneath me. You get all the shit jobs, like disposing of bodies. Got it?”
“I do. I apologize. It was just my attempt at a joke.”
The weapon in Mick’s hand lowered—and Blade struck.
He lunged forward and grabbed the man’s wrist, snapping the bone with one vicious jerk. He used his other hand to clamp around Mick’s throat, lifting him off his feet.
Shock and pain creased the other man’s features as his mouth opened. The coloring in his face changed as he struggled for air. Blade held him tightly, until Mick’s weapon dropped from his fingers.
Blade released Mick’s wrist and gripped his head, using the hold on his neck to help him snap the bone. He hated killing, but the