Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,38

have been feeling much in the way of desire because his “indicator” was currently quite flaccid.

Damn.

Any show of arousal would’ve been inconvenient anyway. He didn’t particularly like the idea of walking into a bank with an erection big enough to pass for a concealed weapon. The plan was to make a legal withdrawal, not rob the bank.

Fortunately, Nevid couldn’t get to his funds. That was one security clearance he’d had the good sense not to grant his pilot.

“Okay,” Moe said. “Bank first, breakfast second. After that, we’ll move on to the next phase of the plan.”

“Which is?” Nexbit prompted. “In all the excitement, I’ve…forgotten.”

“You’re going to morph into Pelarus and then we’re gonna rob him blind.” Temfilk chortled. “This is gonna be so much fun!”

“We still need to keep a low profile,” Moe reminded him. “I only stunned those Nedwuts that were after us last night. They’re probably still looking for us.”

Nexbit shook his head and frowned. “Should’ve killed them, Moe. They’ll never leave us alone.”

“Maybe not, but if you can morph into Pelarus, you can call them off.”

Nexbit’s pale, thin-lipped mouth stretched into a toothy grin. “Why the devil didn’t we ever think of doing that before?”

“Because we’ve been at this too long,” Klara said bitterly. “We needed someone with fresh ideas.”

Temfilk beamed. “You’re our new hero, Moe. Now, if you and the boss can figure out how to team up for life, everything will be perfect.”

Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Klara looked positively stricken. “I don’t think—”

“First things first,” Moe said with a firm nod. “Survival first, happily-ever-after second.”

Unless they could get a private room for the night. With a ship of his own docked at the spaceport, Moe hadn’t bothered to check into one of the local hotels. Granted, the hotels on Haedus were a bit on the seedy side, but they were bound to be an improvement over their current digs.

Moe couldn’t think of a better use for his money.

Now all he had to do was get the bank to hand it over to him.

Crouched in the shadows near the market square, Moe stared at his new cohorts aghast. “You said you’d never seen the inside of a bank in this town. Are you saying you’ve never seen the outside of one, either?”

“Never needed to,” Klara replied, somewhat sheepishly. “We only took what we needed, so nobody ever bothered to raise much of a fuss. If we’d taken to robbing banks, we would’ve been hunted down long ago.”

“I see your point, but the layout of the town…” Moe shook his head, still having a hard time believing what he was hearing. “I mean, you knew where the bar was and how to get me out of there. Surely you would know—”

“There’s a world of difference between a bar and a bank,” Temfilk insisted with a slap of a flippered foot. “Besides, you have to remember how things are with us. We don’t ever stroll down the middle of the street, taking in the sights. We’re always hiding or running.”

Or walking. The trek into town had indeed been long, hot, and dusty, particularly in light of the required secrecy and a strong headwind. Klara’s gang traveled slowly, scurrying from one hiding place to another, ensuring that they hadn’t been seen before moving on once more.

Even after reaching the town, a speeder ride hadn’t proven to be an option. Left unattended, Moe’s speeder had already been hauled off to who knew where, and the bartender had been less than helpful in determining its whereabouts. He’d actually laughed when Moe suggested that the theft be reported to the police. Apparently, there was no police force beyond Pelarus’s thugs, which meant that Moe’s only hope was to spot the vehicle and steal it back. Provided, of course, that the lock hadn’t been reprogrammed.

Yet another reason to despise this hellhole of a planet.

In the wake of that encounter, Klara had explained that anyone with legitimate power or wealth had left Haedus long ago, leaving it in control of various gangs and warlords. Pelarus had somehow managed to absorb this particular region—the only one with a spaceport and therefore the most valuable—into his own territory. In Moe’s opinion, even a corrupt elected government was better than what amounted to a dictatorship, and only a true low-life would hire Nedwuts to do his dirty work.

“This whole planet could stand a good, old-fashioned revolution,” Moe remarked. “Even a dying world deserves a little law and order.”

“You planning to be the next big boss here?” Despite his