Authors: Cheryl Brooks
“No, I think I can make it.” Through sheer force of will, she stood up. Her knees were weak, but their strength increased with each passing moment. “I probably got your bed wet there. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. Really. No worries.”
She hesitated, gnawing at her lower lip. “I—I’m not sure what I should say to you. Thank you, maybe?”
To her relief, he didn’t laugh. “That’ll do.”
“Yeah. At least I don’t make you sick anymore.”
“You never made me sick, Kim. I’m sorry you thought that.” Glancing downward, he plucked idly at the sheets. “I think I’ve reacted differently to you because you
are
different. I’ve never been this close to a Zetithian girl before. Not even when I was a kid on the starship.” Rising up on his elbow, he tossed his hair back over his shoulder. “Those girls were…well, let’s just say they didn’t like me very much.”
As Kim drank in the sight of him, she couldn’t imagine any girl not liking him—Zetithian or otherwise. He was astonishingly attractive, especially stretched out naked on his bed. She liked him that way, enjoyed looking at him, touching him. He smelled good too.
I
bet
he
even
tastes
good.
Beyond kissing—and biting—him, she hadn’t really done that yet. But she would…eventually. “Well, just so you know,
I
like you.”
A hint of a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “I like you too, Kim.”
“Good night, then,” she whispered. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He moved slightly as though about to get up. “Sure you can make it upstairs okay? We used to let our clients sleep it off before they left the Palace.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll use the lift. I’m fine.” She wasn’t, of course. In fact, she had a sneaking suspicion she would never be quite the same again.
Which
isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“Good night, Kim. Sleep well.”
“I’m sure I will.” With yet another gargantuan effort, she left the room. Making her way through the kitchen to the lift, she only had to wait a second or two before the doors slid open.
Kim half expected Captain to make a comment of some kind, but silence reigned as the doors closed behind her. As the lift hummed its way to the second floor, she had to steady herself with a hand placed on the wall. No, she would never be the same again. Not after the delights she had enjoyed that night. Her ecstasy might have been even greater than Onca’s. After all, for him, sex was a job.
Still, he had admitted that his response to her was different from his reactions to other females. But was that purely because she was his first Zetithian?
Maybe.
She preferred to believe there was more to it than that.
And she definitely intended to find out.
Onca knew they couldn’t waste time trying to locate Kim’s friends, not only because she was worried about them, but because if they didn’t hurry, there might not be anyone to find. He awoke early and did some digging of his own, ending with a call to Rashe, the bronze-skinned star attraction of a brothel near the Palace. According to Rashe, there were far more questionable brothels in the sector catering to male clients than Onca had ever suspected.
“I don’t get that,” Onca declared. “None of the guys in our sector are working there against their will. You’re saying there are women who
are
?”
“Of course there are. Lots of men like the idea of fucking helpless, terrified females.” Rashe let out a derisive snort. “You Zetithian guys always were kinda naive.”
“It’s got nothing to do with being naive,” Onca insisted. “It’s about having respect for the people you stick your dick into—whether they’re male
or
female. Using kidnapped girls for sex slaves is one of the more horrific things I can think of. I don’t see how they can get away with it.”
“A few credits dropped into the right pockets can make all the difference in the world.” Rashe snickered. “And don’t sound so sanctimonious. There are plenty of guys who like it when a woman takes a strap to them—and women who enjoy doing it.”
Onca couldn’t suppress a shudder. Jerden might have enjoyed the occasional smack on the ass, but Onca never had, nor had
inflicting
pain ever turned him on. The mere thought of hurting a woman would have made his dick soft, whether her scent aroused him or not. “Maybe, but those dominatrix types don’t do it because they’ve been forced to.”
“True, but some of the girls in the rougher brothels are there because they enjoy being mistreated.” With a knowing smirk, he added, “Or they get paid a bundle for
pretending
to enjoy it.”
“I doubt if the girls I’m talking about are getting paid—and I certainly don’t believe they volunteered.”
Rashe shrugged, tossing a lock of jet-black hair over his shoulder. “Depends on how hungry they were. Sometimes a full stomach is worth getting roughed up a little.”
Onca didn’t have to think very hard to be reminded how thin Kim was and just how hungry she’d been when he found her.
“I’ll fuck you for it if I have to.”
That he hadn’t taken her up on it didn’t matter. She’d been hungry enough to make the offer. Still, getting something in return for being fucked was one thing. Being taken off the street and enslaved was something else altogether. And that Herp hadn’t exactly been making Kim an offer she couldn’t refuse when Onca had pinged the fuckwad on the ass. He’d been about to drag her off somewhere and—
I
can’t think about that.
He cleared his throat as though it might also clear his mind. “The last I heard, kidnapping was still illegal, even on this fucked-up planet.”
“Yes, but if those girls were already living on the street, who would notice they were missing? And for that matter, who would care?”
That was precisely the problem Kim had faced. Small wonder she and Jatki had concocted such a dangerous scheme. “And the local government doesn’t want to admit there are street people to begin with.”
Rashe nodded. “Bad for tourism.”
Onca wondered how many “tourists” were there to take advantage of the sex trade—a business he had once been an integral part of. He and his partners had done their best to make it as legitimate an operation as they possibly could. They had booked appointments, screened their clients for disease, and insisted that any children conceived be reported to the Zetithian Birth Registry. No one had ever been forced to do anything. They were simply offering a luxury service at a very high price.
The price alone meant that most of their clients were rich women, and wealth didn’t necessarily guarantee honesty and integrity—or even mental stability. Onca didn’t have to think hard to recall one ridiculously wealthy man who had been in a position to not only kill his wife’s lover and get away with it, but to destroy an entire planet and most of its people. And then Chantal Benzowitz had killed Audrey to take her job. The woman was a total nutcase, but she’d had enough money to book an appointment with Jerden.
But how many of his clients had sold everything they possessed—or committed highway robbery—to pay for an hour with a Zetithian? That idea had never occurred to him.
“Once these atrocities are made public, what do you think
that
will do for tourism?”
“Public?” Rashe echoed. “Take my advice and keep your head down and your mouth shut. There are some very powerful people in this city who don’t want you or anyone else fucking with their livelihood. You step on the wrong toes and you could wind up dead.”
Rashe had already hinted at corruption among the brothel owners, and possibly law enforcement, but this sounded bigger than that. “What are you saying, Rashe? That the city government is corrupt, or simply its employees?”
“I’m saying you might want to let this one drop. And if you don’t, you’d better watch your back.”
“I’ll do that,” Onca said.
Rashe arched a brow. “What? Let it drop or watch your back?”
“Let’s just say I’m not gonna let it drop.”
“It’s your funeral, dude. Don’t count on much help from this sector. You start some kind of crusade, and we might all wind up on the street.”
“Not if we work together. If you put the word out in the district—among people you trust—we might get something done about it. Shit like that puts us all in a bad light. Getting rid of the taint will make the legitimate brothels seem a bit more…respectable.”
Onca wasn’t sure Rashe cared what anyone thought of him, except his clients. He was in the sex business because it allowed him to fuck as many women as he liked. And being Terran, he didn’t need a fluffer to fuck a Darconian. Onca had yet to decide whether that was an advantage.
Rashe chuckled. “Not sure I actually trust
any
of these guys, but I’ll give it some thought. The Statzeelians are probably out, seeing as how they walk around with their women on leashes.”
That was another custom Onca had never understood. In fact, it tended to piss him off. “Then again, they’re pretty easy to rile up. Get them mad enough and they might be willing to knock some heads together.”
Roncas strolled into the kitchen. “Morning, Rashe,” she said with a wave at the viewscreen. “I’m surprised you’re still up.”
“I’m always
up
,” Rashe said with a wink. “But I’d probably be asleep by now if your boss hadn’t called me.”
“He’s not my boss anymore.”
“Yeah. I heard. Hey, if you’re looking for a job, you could work for me.”
“Don’t need to.” Roncas covered a yawn. “Besides, I’m playing chaperone for him and his new friends.” The smirk she shot at Onca suggested she knew something about Kim’s late night visit to his room.
Oh, shit.
Then again, Onca hadn’t said anything about needing a chaperone. Roncas had simply opted to spend the night.
Maybe.
No telling what she and Jatki had talked about on the way back from Oswalak’s. Perhaps Roncas’s remark didn’t mean what he thought it did.
Yet
another
instance
where
it
might
be
best
to
keep
my
mouth
shut.
“Sounds more like you’ll be helping him hide out from the bad guys.” Rashe laughed. “Or maybe you’ll be the one watching his back.”
“Clearly I’ve missed something,” Roncas said, helping herself to a cup of coffee.
“I’ll let him tell you,” Rashe said with a yawn of his own. “I’m beat. I had to fuck a bunch of ladies celebrating their class reunion.”
Roncas took a seat at the table and blew on her coffee before taking a sip. “Really? What year?”
“2970,” Rashe replied. “The old girls about wore me out.”
Onca grinned. “Wuss.”
“Bet I had more fun than you did last night,” Rashe retorted.
“I’m sure you did.” Onca was lying through his fangs, of course. That one round with Kim topped anything else he’d ever done. “Get some sleep. I’ll check back with you later.” His expression sobered. “We really need to do this, Rashe. It isn’t something we can ignore.”
“I’ve ignored it for a long time,” Rashe admitted. “Shit, maybe I
am
a wuss.”
“A lover, not a fighter?” Onca said. “There’s no law against being both, you know.”
“Yeah. I know.” He blew out a breath. “And that whole warrior thing
is
in my blood.”
“I can’t say it’s in
my
blood. We were a peaceful race until the war began. From what I hear, we put up a pretty good fight, though. Too bad the odds were stacked against us.”
“Yeah. Kinda like what happened to my people—but that was a very long time ago.”
“I’m sure you’ve still got some grit left in you,” Onca said. “Meanwhile, see if you can drum up some support in the neighborhood. I’m going to try to find a few more recruits.”
“Onca’s Army?”
“Something like that.” Onca chuckled. “Street kids and hookers going up against—just what
are
we up against, Rashe?”
“I’m not sure,” Rashe replied. “But whatever or whoever it is, I’m guessing it’s big.”
“Couldn’t be any bigger than Rutger Grekkor, and it only took one Zetithian and a few friends to take him down. The trick is finding out who’s in charge.”
“Something tells me that knowledge alone might be enough to get you killed. Be careful.”
Onca glanced up as Kim and Jatki wandered into the kitchen. “Don’t worry. I will.” If for no other reason than to see Kim safely delivered to Terra Minor. After that, he had an idea his own life wouldn’t matter very much.
***
Kim’s heart nearly stopped. “What’s going to get you killed?”
Onca flipped off the comlink. “Nothing,” he replied. “At least, not yet.”
Kim wanted him to live for at least another seventy or eighty years. By that time, she might actually be tired of looking at him. She’d thought he was handsome before, but today…
Wow.
She opted for a seat across from him, rather than the one beside him. Biting him at the breakfast table seemed inappropriate somehow. Besides, sitting on the opposite side of the table gave her a better view.
“I ordered some groceries,” Onca said. “Should be here any minute.”
“Who’d you order from?” Roncas asked. “Karkun’s?”
“Yeah. Right now, the Norludians are about the only ones I’d trust aside from Shemlak’s gang.” Frowning, he added, “Gotta remember to send those hails out to Jack and Dax.”
A chime sounded. “Your deliveries have arrived,” Captain intoned. “Shall I admit them?”
“Not yet.” Onca got up from the table with a pistol in his hand. “Wait ’til I get there.”
Kim let her gaze follow him to the door. His only visible fault was that he was wearing jeans—although she had to admit, they looked damn good on him.
“Why would he only trust Norludians?” Jatki asked.
“Because they’re almost impossible to buy off or corrupt in any way,” Roncas replied.
“Really?” Kim had learned early on that Norludian merchants seemed to have a sixth sense about the wares they sold, which made it tough to steal from them. “I never knew that.”
Roncas twittered. “They’re too outspoken—can’t keep secrets about anything, whether you pay them or not.”
“Yeah, real blabbermouths,” Onca said with a wink. “The only reason I’m concerned is that they may have been overheard talking about delivering food to us and been followed.”
Jatki’s skin turned yellow. “You didn’t tell them
we
were here, did you?”
Onca shook his head. “Why don’t you ladies wait in my room until they’re gone? The less they know, the better.”
“But we can’t cover you from in there,” Kim said.
“Right,” Roncas agreed, drawing her pistol. “I’ll stay here. You girls go hide.”
Kim was about to protest when she caught a glimpse of Onca’s concerned expression. He hadn’t given an order. He’d simply made a request—and a reasonable one at that. “Okay.” She nodded toward the bedroom. “Let’s go, Jatki.”
She might not have liked the idea, but next to stealing, her ability to know when to disappear ranked among her most useful talents.
Now, there’s something to be proud of.
Stealing and hiding. And yet, those traits had kept her alive for a long time. Hopefully that trend would continue. “How about we leave this door open and just get out of sight?”
“Sounds good. Looks less suspicious that way.” Onca glanced up at a sensor. “Okay, Cap. How many are out there?”
“Only two,” Captain said. “Both Norludians.” Judging from his haughty tone, Captain didn’t approve of Norludians any more than he did Roncas’s species. And he probably didn’t like being called “Cap,” either.
Onca tucked his pistol behind his back. “Open the door.”
Kim couldn’t see a thing, but she heard every sound.
“Hey, man. You throwing a party or what?” one of the Norludians asked. “Never known you to buy so much stuff before.”
“Oh, you know how it is,” Onca drawled. “I’m retired now, so I’d rather stay home and cook. Got some friends coming in a week or so. Thought I’d better be prepared.”
“You should be able to feed a small army with all this.”
Onca chuckled. “Obviously you’ve never been visited by Zetithians.
Lots
of kids.”
“So I’ve heard. Now that you’re retired, you gonna have some kids of your own?”
“Have to find a mate first,” Onca replied.
“Yes, but who would want him?” Roncas asked.
The other Norludian laughed. “No accounting for taste, is there?”
Onca’s growl sounded reasonably authentic. “Yeah. Right. See you guys later.”
The front door closed behind them. “Engage the defenses again, Captain,” Onca said. “Okay, girls. The coast is clear.”
Kim and Jatki went back into the kitchen to find Onca peering out the window facing the street.