Page 41 of Stolen Fire
Shipment of kids?
The front door snicked shut, and the voices were no longer audible. Blaize leaped from the bed and fell right back down. Damn, she was sore. First order of business—find the bathroom. Walking was a challenge, but she hobbled out of the bedroom and through the only other door in Cifer’s place. It was utilitarian and white, but it did have a bathtub, which she eyed longingly. Unfortunately, there was no time. She peed, wincing as the liquid hit the areas that had been chafed. That done, she washed her hands. The muscles in her legs were starting to recover now that she was moving around. The ache inside only seemed to intensify, demanding more of him, but he’d left.
She hunted for her clothes. Her panties were nowhere to be found, but the rest she threw on. Maybe Cifer and the girl would still be on the other side of the door. A chime sounded. She rushed to the door, curious why Cifer wouldn’t just let himself back in. Did he need help?
Varik filled the doorway. Blaize stepped back and tried to close the opening, but he grabbed her shirt and tugged her forward. “Where’s Jarn?”
“Get your hands off me.” She pushed at his chest but stumbled forward when he didn’t let go.
“Jarn,” Varik yelled in her face, spittle dotting her skin.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
He wrenched her into the hallway and slammed her against the opposite wall. Cifer’s door auto-closed. There’d be no getting back in. She rammed her knee between Varik’s legs as hard as she could. His blue skin paled to nearly match hers. She wrenched her arm against his elbow, breaking his grip, and screamed, “Fire!”
As she ran down the curved hall, she smacked her hand against the doors, bellowing, “Fire!” over and over again. She didn’t wait for the power lift. Instead, she headed for the stairs. As soon as she pressed open the door, an alarm sounded. Let Varik fight his way through the crowd.
With each stair, another question occurred to her. Why had Cifer left with Elaya? How had Varik found her?
She escaped the building and slapped her pocket, relieved to find her data pad where she’d left it. At least she could pay for transportation to take her back to the ship.
The Treasure looked the same when she exited the hired sled a few minutes later. As if time hadn’t passed at all. She’d been gone for…hours? A cycle? But her world was completely different.
Different, but the same. She still hated Varik, more since he physically attacked her. She was still obsessed with Cifer, and he was the guy who’d left her in his bed to run off with a young woman—probably for a good reason, but it still hurt to be left behind.
Of course, the ship looked the same. She only wished things were different. She keyed in the security code and lowered the entrance ramp. The ship echoed in the way that only spaces devoid of life did. Everyone was likely still enjoying the dinner she’d skipped. Maybe she should have used that as an excuse to leave instead of jumping into bed with Cifer. There was no way to go back and change it. She closed herself off in her quarters, a space that felt more like home than her rented room. After stripping off her clothes, she took her time under the hot spray of the shower. Her body missed Cifer’s touch. Her brain tried to imagine all the reasons he could have left that didn’t have to do with her being inadequate. He was an excellent lover, but what if she wasn’t?
And nothing explained why Varik had known where she was or even cared.
Chapter 17
“What do you know?” Cifer followed the spy down the hall. She’d given him tips in the past that had worked out but had never come to his rooms—shouldn’t even know where they were.
“Cruiser landed in dock 141-XA—fast, newer.”
Cifer focused on her lips to make sure he heard her clearly. Some words came through—mostly. Others were more challenging. “How long?”
“Hour. I pinged you.”
He glanced at his data pad and noted the missed messages. He considered sending something to Blaize, but involving her in his business would only put her in danger. If anyone became aware of how much he cared about her… He hated the tug of duty and desire. Had avoided it with casual connections. But there was nothing casual about how he felt about Blaize. He’d been so deep with her, he’d almost shown her his true form. She’d understand why he left once he explained. She cared about the lost kids too. The stolen, the sold, the abandoned. “How many kids? Any idea how old?”
“I counted five. Young. Maybe as old as ten? I’m not sure. But they all look different from each other, and they’re in a cage.”
At the word cage, Cifer saw red. He’d spent galactic years being locked up. Bastards had either stolen or purchased the young, both of which were against the Galaxian law. Not that those fuckers cared. It was all about the sale or keeping them and training them to commit crimes the adults couldn’t pull off. They were in for a rude awakening. Cifer was on-station, and they weren’t going to make money on that shipment. The only downside of having to take paying contracts was being away from the station. He had an older crew of former orphans who worked around the various sectors of Cassan and could fill in for him, and frequently had to, but there was nothing he liked more than seeing the stolen kids returned to their families.
He rushed after Elaya so that maybe he would be in time to get the kids. And maybe he could make it back before Blaize woke up.
Instead of a ship, as Cifer expected, Elaya stopped in front of the Rusty Bucket. A dive bar for space crews. He scowled as he stepped through the door.
“It’s that guy. In the corner.” Elaya pointed to a table in the far back.
Cifer should have known a Gordinian cum-stain was involved. He’d suspected as such, based on the descriptions from the previous kids who’d been saved. If he were a more violent being, he’d stab that fool through his black heart this very minute.
Cifer glanced around the bar. Elaya had slipped away. Smart girl.
He clacked his jaw at the gelatinous, hairy fuck as he passed on his way to the restroom. Better not to shift his appearance in public too often, and he had no idea how many eyes were on him. Elaya was occasionally useful, but she delved into the dark allies of the station far too much to be fully trusted.
Once he’d adopted the persona he’d use to negotiate with child slaver scum, he slipped back into the bar, taller, leaner and the muted shade of forest fungus. He stopped in front of the table. “Elaya sent me.”
