They had to slosh through calf-deep water filled with floating trash and worse. The smell that filled the air made even his strong stomach turn, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had made a bad decision to stop here on this backwater hellhole.
As they cut through a street lined with shacks built from scavenged metal, he reached back and took Maisie’s hand. They were entering an area of the slum that set off his inner alarm bells. Street lights flickered on and off, the neon orange and yellow glow reflecting off the waterlogged pavement in a way that colored everything a sickly shade. Bedraggled women wearing little more than underwear stood on the flooded street, shaking in the cold as they offered their bodies for a handful of credits. Their pimps stood silhouetted in the doorways of dilapidated lean-tos, most of them holding weapons in anticipation of trouble.
He didn’t miss the predatory stares trained on Maisie. Men were sizing her up and estimating how much they could make from a young beautiful woman. There were plenty of skin traders with lists of private clients who would pay exorbitant amounts to own a woman like her. If a private sale didn’t pan out, there were sky brothels that trafficked women, girls and boys for money. They were the sorts of brothels that burned through fresh bodies within weeks from the constant abuse.
Up ahead, hidden only partially by a few overflowing trash cans, a woman was on her knees sucking off an angry drunk. The man walloped her in the side of the head, and Maisie gasped with anger. She took a step toward the couple, ready to raise hell and intervene, but Terror tugged hard to pull her back to his side. He gave her a warning look, silently telling her to mind her own business, and she pursed her lips in frustration.
He understood her anger. Any other night, he would have intervened to help the woman, but right now, his only priority was Maisie. He couldn’t risk getting involved in a street brawl where he would be outnumbered easily. Worse, a fight would draw attention, and there was no telling who might be looking for him or Maisie by now. There were bounty hunters all over this sector of the galaxy, and a place like The Cur was a favorite stopover for many of them.
Glad Maisie couldn’t hear the disgusting catcalls that erupted as they passed a group of men, he pulled her even closer and tightened his grip on her hand. She hastened her pace to keep up with him, warily eyeing the crowd of men. She might not be able to hear the filth they hurled at her, but she could read their body language. She sensed the danger and walked with more urgency, seemingly desperate to get out of this neighborhood as quickly as possible.
He took a chance cutting down an alley. She kept close, her boots kicking up water that splashed his pants. The dark alley opened up into a better lit street lined with gambling dens. These shacks were sturdier and larger than the lurid sex trade neighborhood they had just traversed. Signs flashed advertisements for games and booze. There was an easily spotted criminal element here, but they weren’t looking to kidnap or murder. They were here to keep the peace and keep money pouring into their games.
Their journey continued for almost an hour. They sloshed through floodwaters, sidestepped drunken brawls, turned their gazes away from brazen public sex and warily eyed packs of roving dogs. Eventually, they pushed through a loud, smelly crowd clamoring for food rations at government station at the very edge of Low Track.
When they reached the Middle Track, the streets were a little wider and cleaner. The buildings were larger and better built, but they were just as densely packed. They were on higher ground now so the flooding noticeably lessened. Filthy water only reached their ankles as they trudged through the street to a safe house he hadn’t visited in a long time. He could only hope his contact, Pamilla, hadn’t moved on or switched sides.
But, even if Pam did still live in that safe house, he couldn’t be absolutely sure she would offer him any help, not after the way they had parted. If she opened the door to him, she was either going to punch him right in the mouth—or kiss him.
Glancing over at Maisie who was probably still mad at him, he couldn’t