Page 2 of Marked By the Bounty Hunter

“Watch it!” The smuggler jumped up, his coat falling open to reveal the blaster at his hip.

Perfect. The strangers’ heads snapped toward the commotion. Around the bar, I caught the subtle shifts of my regulars - the Dravari’s hand sliding beneath the counter, the soft click of a safety being disengaged from the shadows.

I ducked down to the side of the bar, pretending to clean up the mess. “Back door,” I whispered to Jevik. “Three lefts, then right at the storage lockers.”

His webbed fingers trembled against the bar. “They’ll track me.”

“Not if you move now.” I shoved a clean rag at the spill, buying time. “Trust me.”

The smuggler’s angry voice rose above the general noise. “You’re paying for these boots!”

I stood, hands raised. “Sir,” I called out, playing up the concerned bartender, “No weapons in here. House rules. I’d rather not call security.”

He turned red, hand moving to his coat. “You threatening me?”

“Just stating policy.” I kept my voice steady, even as my pulse raced. I didn’t need to mention the half-dozen regulars ready to ventilate him if he drew. “How about a free drink instead of involving management in either of these little problems?”

The door wheezed shut behind Jevik. Neither false medic noticed.

A shadow shifted in the corner. I hadn’t noticed him before - the huge Vinduthi warrior nursing a drink in the darkest booth. His red eyes met mine for a heartbeat and I could make out a smirk, as if he was amused that I had finally noticed him. I made myself focus on the danger, not the way his presence made my pulse jump.

“Excuse me.” One of the medics leaned over the bar. “We’re looking for a Poraki male. Have you seen him?”

I widened my eyes. “Lots of folks come through here. Can’t keep track.”

“This one would have looked... unwell.”

I shrugged, the picture of helpful ignorance. “Haven’t noticed anyone sick. Health and safety violations, you know? We report that stuff right away.”

The second medic’s lips curled. He leaned in close enough that I could smell antiseptic on his breath.

“We don’t appreciate interference in our business,” he murmured. “Remember that.”

They left as suddenly as they’d arrived. I let out my breath, my hands shaking as I swept up the broken glass.

When I looked up again, the Vinduthi was watching me. The purple markings on his face seemed to shift in the faint light. I busied myself with the glasses, hyper-aware of his gaze on my back.

But the Vinduthi continued to stare at me and only me.

One by one, the patrons stumbled out while I counted credits, wiped tables, anything to keep my mind off Jevik and the false medics not-so-veiled threat.

My last drunk of the shift slumped against my shoulder as I guided him to the door. His four arms kept trying to hug me.

“You’re th’ best, ‘Lina.” His breath reeked of fermented Jovian whiskey.

“Thanks, Grot. Sleep it off.” I peeled his tentacles away and watched him weave down the corridor.

The Horizon never truly closed - not on a space station where “night” was just dimmed lighting and adjusted climate controls. But my shift was done as soon as Kell showed up to take over.

The Vinduthi warrior still sat in his corner, ramrod straight, nursing the same drink he’d had all night. His red eyes tracked my movements. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. The tingle worked itself down my back, till it settled between my legs.

The door wheezed open. Kell’s antennae twitched as she took in the mostly empty bar.

“Quiet night?”

“Mostly.” I didn’t mention Jevik or the fake medics. The less she knew, the safer she’d be. “The Cerulian that usually sits in the corner needs cutting off if she comes back.”

“Got it.” Kell’s mandibles clicked in acknowledgment. “Go get some sleep. You look like shit.”

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