good purchase—more to you besides muscles and a pretty face.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Pretty is the least of my qualities.”
“True.”
He wasn’t vain, but that stung a little.
“Never seen a more gorgeous man.” She said this softly, almost too softly to be heard, with a kind of shyness he never would have anticipated.
Their gazes held, and he was lost in the crystal green of her eyes, the depth there. She showed him a rare fragility—and he understood how privileged he was to be given this extraordinary insight. It took strength to show her vulnerability, much more so than bluster and bravado. It was humbling. Precious.
There wasn’t time to explore this further. They had to get to her ship and reach the auction site before the bidding began.
“You’re our guidance system. Take us to that secret exit.”
She nodded, taking his hand. Yet he couldn’t help but feel as though he had squandered a rare opportunity.
Mara guided them through the club, away from the crowds waiting to leave. She slipped into one of the smaller side rooms, empty except for a cleaning bot listlessly circling the floor. Booths and tables stood waiting for the next round of patrons eager to drink themselves into nothingness. The performance platform in the center of the room seemed bereft without people writhing atop it in the throes of impersonal pleasure.
“Never been here in the morning.” Mara glanced around and grimaced. “Shabby. Sad. This place was a kind of…home. Emphasis on was.” She strode toward a booth in the corner.
“That’s a shame,” he muttered without remorse. She deserved better than this pit.
Once they reached the booth in the corner, Mara braced her hands on the round table. She turned it like a giant wheel. It stuck for a moment, so he stepped beside her and lent his strength to rotating the table. There was a hissing sound, and then a panel in the wall beside the booth slid open, revealing a passageway.
“How did you find out about this?”
“Charmed it out of Kura one night. And by ‘charmed,’ I mean I poured Girilal brandy down his throat until he gave up every one of the club’s secrets. Then he gave up the rindroast he’d eaten—all over my new boots.” She smiled wryly. “Disgusting, but worth it.”
They stepped into the passage. It was an unadorned, dimly lit corridor lined with pipes, the floor mottled with stagnant puddles. Scuttling sounds revealed that at least one szemét rat called the passage home.
“This leads to a cargo lift.” Mara’s voice echoed in the corridor. “That takes us to the ground level.”
She headed down the passage, but something prickled Kell’s awareness. He turned around, plasma pistol in hand, just in time to see a man also stepping into the corridor. The panel slid shut behind the stranger, closing all of them in. Kell recognized him as the blocky man from the night before, the one who thought he remembered Kell.
“I know who you are.” Blocky had two plasma pistols out, one trained on Kell, the other pointed at Mara. “And you aren’t a Halu pleasure slave.”
“Turn around.” Mara had her own weapon aimed at the interloper. “Then get the hell out.”
But the man didn’t listen. “Got to thinking last night, about that move you used to take down Jorgo. Seen it only once before—by a street brawler on Sayén. Dangerous fucker. Killed at least two men in the ring.” He stepped closer, and the dimness turned his eyes to small, sharp beads. “Can’t forget someone like that. He disappeared, though. Then word got out that he’d joined the 8th Wing.”
Cold heat tightened Kell’s muscles, yet he felt perfectly calm, focused.
“Think of what I could buy, selling that intel,” Blocky continued. “A nice villa on Merane. A half dozen Halu pleasure slaves of my own. But I’m a businessman, so I’m willing to deal. I take creds. Or I can be creative when it comes to payment.” His gaze flicked to Mara, and that was when Kell’s anger roared to life.
Blocky was an idiot. He’d gotten too close, within striking distance. Kell kicked a plasma pistol out of his hand. As the man yelped in pain, Kell grabbed his other arm and broke it with a swift movement. A louder scream of pain. The second weapon landed on the ground with a clatter. Kell had the barrel of his own plasma pistol lodged tight against the underside of Blocky’s jaw.
The would-be blackmailer’s small eyes widened as much as they were able. He shook with the