Page 4 of A Darkside Interlude

Look at me.

They did just that.

Static rippled across her bare arms, raising goosebumps as the mysterious duo looked in her direction. One of the men in particular seemed to watch her with great intensity, his stare burning into her from behind dark lenses.

That intensity wasn’t something she could read in his face; after all, his features were hidden. It was more of a feeling.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

Gotcha.

This was the reaction she’d been hoping for. Mari was a good looking woman, and she knew it. She’d long ago learned to use her appearance to her advantage, because along with her wits, it was all she had.

Survival. That’s all it was.

The man’s companion took another step forward then glanced over his shoulder, muttering something unintelligible. His words were drowned in the torrent of sound that was the Glory Strip.

Mari ignored him. She went straight for the one who couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Hello, handsome,” she whispered. Suddenly, she was intensely curious to see what he looked like under that makeshift disguise.

Maybe he was a wanted man. Perhaps he and his accomplice were hiding from the authorities. Or what if he was a celebrity? Someone famous who didn’t want to attract the attention of the Drone-a-razzi?

She would just sidle up to him and pull down that red-and-white scarf and plant a fat kiss on his lips…

While slipping her hands into the pockets of his sexy leather jacket.

Outsiders. They were bound to have some good stuff. Link-bands, jewelry, ID suppressors, or even unmarked credit chips… if she was extremely lucky. The latter could easily be hacked and laundered if one knew the right people.

She never took everything. That would be too risky. Only inexperienced, greedy thieves went for everything. No, she just would swipe one item of value, leaving her unsuspecting mark with the memory of a blistering kiss as she disappeared into the seething crowd.

Here we go…

She offered up her best megawatt smile as she strode forward. It was over-the-top and ridiculous, and it usually worked.

He was stunned. She could tell by the way he was glued to the spot.

Just give me something I can use, sweetheart. She made a silent mental prayer to the nonexistent god of street thieves and grifters. A Near Year’s present would be nice.

Then she would disappear, and they would never cross paths again.

Chapter Three

Iskar scanned the Glory Strip from behind dark glasses, taking in the pulsing, frenetic energy of the crowd. Above him, a large neon billboard flashed, dousing him in retina-searing neon. A group of scantily clad females danced across the screen, and tinny, mind-bogglingly irritating music filled his ears.

These people are insane!

That was the first thought that entered his mind.

The second thought was that he was fucking grateful for these simple light-blocking lenses, which were surely saving him from developing a serious migraine.

They were of the human-made variety, and rather fashionable, according to the General’s wife.

Fashionable? Ha. The concept of expressing oneself through one’s garments or equipment was so utterly alien to a man like Iskar, who had spent most of his life wearing the distinctive red-and-black uniform of the Kordolian military.

He would have been content with a standard military-issue eyeshield, but the Kordolian tech would be too conspicuous in Darkside. The last thing he wanted to do was stand out, especially when this was supposed to be an observational visit.

Observational? Ha.

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