Page 3 of Wayfinder
“An assistant,” I said. What I really wanted to say waslying, scheming, asshat turd.
His handsome face floated through my mind, and as always, it made me want to hit something.
Donovan Chase.
I’d been about to open my third restaurant, this one in Vegas, when Bobby Flay suggested hiring someone to help me get things up and running.
Donovan Chase came highly recommended and was gorgeous—like a youngLegends of the FallBrad Pitt. I’d fallen for him hook, line, and sinker. It didn’t matter that he’d been ten years younger than me. It didn’t matter that my friends warned me he seemed insincere. I’d devoted my life to being the bestchef ever and accepted that meant giving up on finding love. With Donovan, I thought I could have it all, and that made me….
Stupid.
Donovan didn’t want me. He wanted my recipes and my reputation. And he got them. Using me as nothing more than a steppingstone to furthering his own career and forming a pre-packaged food company based on my recipes that was rivaled only byNewman’s Own.
The expression on Jala’s face told me she noticed my reticence.
“In your Earth cooking competitions, do you hunt, kill, and butcher the ingredients?”
I’d butchered everything from a pig to a blowfish. “I can handle it.”
“Perhaps.” Jala’s full lips pursed. “How are your combat skills?”
“Combat skills?” I blanched. “I’m not sure how y’all do things here, but on Earth, we don’t normally fight things before we eat them. Well, not most things.” I recalled a rather nasty encounter with an octopus during an Iron Chef competition.
Jala laughed for a moment, then grew serious. “Often in these types of competitions, fighting breaks out between the contestants over the choicest ingredients.”
“You got me there,” I muttered. I considered myself a master of the verbal bitch-slap but needed my friend Willa if there was any real ass-kicking to be done.
Jala moved closer, laying a hand on my arm.“You will need someone. Not someone to help you cook, but to act as your protector.” Her lovely face expressed disdain for what came next. “The other chefs are upset at having to compete against one they consider a lowly human... not worth more than a slave.”
I glanced past Jala toward the door frame. The small hole was visible, and I smiled to myself remembering the flicker ofshock on the man’s face when the knife stuck there, scant inches from his ear. Part of me wanted to claim I didn't need help—but I wasn’t that stupid.
“I guess I could ask the Baron for a guard.” Having an alien version of Kermit the Frog tagging along wasn’t the least bit appetizing, but I had no other option.
The roll of Jala’s eyes told me her impression of the walking, talking frogs as well. “Typically, the Kwado are not known for being skilled warriors. I know someone... a warrior we can trust to see to your safety.”
While I didn’t relish putting my safety in the hands of someone unknown, I trusted Jala far more than I trusted the Baron. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”
Jala took my vote of confidence with a curt nod. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
My gaze followed her out, lingering on the knife hole in the door frame. Too bad I didn’t know that guy’s name. I was pretty sure he and Jala were the same species. Both had incredible blue and gold eyes and were too gorgeous for words. He had warrior written all over him… like a golden-eyed alien Jamie Fraser. He didn’t even flinch when I threw the knife. He just stood there watching me, muscles upon muscles rippling when he moved. Not a bone in that guy’s body belonged in a kitchen—save for perhaps fucking someone over a table.
Good lord, really? Get your head out of the gutter, Pearl!
I honestly didn’t mean to throw the knife at him. It was pure reflex. I’d just been so startled, and after Donovan, having gorgeous men in the kitchen proved a serious no-no for me. At that moment, it had been all about showing dominance in the kitchen, like I’d had to do so many times before with so many men. It was all about claiming my domain in a way that brooked no argument, like when Gordan Ramsey screamed and threwpots. I was just glad I didn’t accidentally hit him, and the way he turned and left indicated the gesture worked like a charm.
Gordan Ramsey could kiss my ass.
Chapter 2 - Jutuk
As much as I loved coming here, I’d always felt out of place. My sister’s apartment on the Ardeese Valout space station was the epitome of luxury. Too luxurious for one who counted a warship as home. The white fur sofa I occupied seemed too soft, and I was always on guard lest I leave a smudge or spot on the pristine fabric.
My sister, however, deserved every inch of the niceties. Her official title might be Chief of Engineering Operations, but as mate to Praxxan, the wealthy Stranac who owed the Ardeese Valout, she was more like a queen. All who lived on the space station were under my sister’s purview. Even visiting royalty like Baron Oappo acquiesced to her firm but gentle hand.
I just hope Pearl did.
Patience was never my strong suit. For the dozenth time in the last hour, I rose from the sofa to pace in front of the wall of windows overlooking the docking bay. Hundreds of ships arrived and departed daily, everything from massive supply ships to small schooners carrying individuals wishing to avail themselves of the amenities the Ardeese Valout offered. Somewhere in the mass of vessels sat my small two-seat interceptor. Small and sleek and wickedly swift, the ship had one purpose. To escape. The only chance I had to get Pearl away safely was to get her away fast.
The Baron’s bragging had only complicated things. Despite having Jala and Praxxan’s help, I would have only a narrow window to get Pearl off the space station. Now, I’d lostpart of that window because of the chef competition. Not only would the competition steal valuable time, but it would make Pearl more of an oddity and more closely watched. Hopefully, Jala would be able to convince the human female to take me on as her assistant. Not only did she need protection in the upcoming competition, but my presence at her side would become commonplace, making it easier for us to slip away together.
