Page 42 of Escape Velocity

He’d been lucky to get the official report about the dead men in the storage room. He’d have to rely on snitches and generous offers of credits to give him more information, but he thought there was a good chance that his merchandise had passed through there. Had anyone else seen her? When and where? How long had she been there, and what had she been doing?

He set down his glass with a clunk as he considered that crucial question. Why would a pilot have taken a slave to Freedom Station? He could have thought to sell her—or set her free. If she was going to be freed, she’d need clothing—and official status. Probably there was someone up there who provided forged identities.

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Max clenched his hands into fists, imagining Amber’s desperation to escape. He’d fallen for everything she’d told him, and now he was in a slatload of trouble. If this Tudor guy was powerful enough to import women to use as snuff slaves, one of two things had to be true. Either he had a secret life completely under the radar. Or he had a lot of power in other areas that allowed him to subvert the law. Or both were true.

But Max wasn’t going to fool himself. He hadn’t known it, but he’d been in trouble since the moment he took the job from Rafe, and then realized the true nature of the cargo. When he’d decided that he couldn’t be part of transporting a slave from Naxion to Danalon, it seemed he had made a dangerous enemy.

Which didn’t change his original decision. In fact, it reinforced it. He couldn’t deliver this woman to the man who had paid a substantial sum so he could enjoy torturing her to death.

“I have a few more questions,” he said.

She nodded.

“Why were you dressed in filthy rags when they turned you over to me?”

“So, you wouldn’t know what was really in store for me.”

“And why did you have to make up a story about their going to kill me? Wasn’t it good enough to tell me what was really going on?”

“No. Part of the transaction is to have the ship’s captain give the slave a sleeping draft to keep her controlled during transport. I needed to make sure I could talk to you and . . .”

“And get me on your side?” he finished for her.

“Yes,” she answered in a low voice.

He was silent for long moments as he thought about the nasty details she’d shared.

He saw her lower lip quiver, then firm. “Are you going to turn me over to him?” she asked in a voice he could tell she was struggling to hold steady.

“No.”

He watched the relief wash over her face.

“Why not?”

“For the same reasons I wasn’t going to do it in the first place. I accept a lot of cargo—but not slaves.”

“And what happens now?” she asked.

“That depends. The first thing I need to do is find out who this Tudor guy is.”

“How?”

“You’re sure you were going to Danalon?” he asked.

“That’s what I thought, but I can’t be sure.”

“Okay, we’ll assume he lives there.”

He called up the comms connection in his cabin, then accessed the ship’s main computer, conscious of Amber sitting on his bed, watching him.

“This Tudor guy, do you know his first name?”

“No.”

“Too bad it can’t be easy,” he muttered as he opened a database.

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