She turned around and walked across the living space, listening closely for any indication that he might’ve followed her inside, to snatch up the belt draped over one of the chairs at the table. She fished the credit chip she’d been saving for next month’s rent out of one of the pouches. When she turned back toward the ilthurii, he was still standing in the hallway—and still looking like someone took a shit in his breakfast.
Striding to the door, Shay drew her arm back and snapped it forward, releasing the chip. It flew through the air and struck Vrisk right between his eyes. He flinched and shuffled backward, scrambling to catch it.
“There’s next month’s payment. You try and cheat me again, and I’ll blow your goddamned head off.” She hit the control button. The door shut immediately, cutting off Vrisk’s glare and any words he might have said.
A kick in her stomach startled Shay out of her anger. Shay settled her hand over the spot and closed her eyes, releasing a long, slow exhalation. “You’re right. Mommy’s gotta calm down.”
Once her heart slowed, she opened her eyes and glanced down at her holocom.
Shit!
Racing to the bathroom, she snatched a hairband from thecounter, gathered her hair, and tied it back. She returned to the living room and shoved her feet into her boots, nearly falling over in her haste. The near fall was enough to give her pause.
Bracing a hand on the wall, she took in another calming breath and muttered, “Slow down, Shay.”
After moving to the table, she placed the blaster atop it and picked up her tactical utility belt. Its weight was a comfort. Shay secured the belt around her waist and holstered the blaster. It wasn’t the only weapon she possessed. The belt—the same one she’d stolen from the azhera—held a wealth of surprises, including an extendable stun baton, a knife hilt that formed a hardlight blade when activated, a small but well stocked first-aid kit, and two sets of deceptively thin but strong automatically activated restraints.
She never left the apartment without it.
She grabbed her oversized hooded jacket and swung it on before opening the door and making her way out into the Undercity.
The Undercity wasa place of stark contrasts—deep, inky darkness clashing with bright neon lights and pulsing holograms; the silent, still alleys that flowed off every street like roots from a tree juxtaposed against the bustling cacophony of the crowded walkways; cool air flowing from ventilation systems fighting against the heat of the crowds, locked in perpetual stalemate.
There were more alien species, languages, and scents than Shay could count, more than she could’ve imagined possible—and many of those scents made her wish pregnancy hadn’t sharpened her sense of smell.
But she’d dealt with nonhuman species on Earth, and eventhough she hadn’t seen a single human face since she’d been kidnapped and sold, this city seemed to share the same attitude prevalent in most large cities she’d visited. Most of these people were indifferent as they hurried past, acting as though the relatively small terran offering them floppy holographic flyers didn’t exist.
Assholes, the whole bunch of them.
Shay dropped her arm to her side and clutched the stack of flyers to her chest. Her shoulders sagged. Loose strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail and fallen from beneath her hood tickled her nose, and she blew them aside with a huff. After hours of walking up and down this block, her ankles were swollen, her feet were killing her, and her voice was hoarse, but her attempts to be seen and heard had failed miserably.
Why was it harder to get someone to look at a damn flyer than it was to bypass the security system of a high-end store and rob it blind?
Don’t these people understand that I’m trying to do things the legitimate way this time? Give me a break!
If she returned to her boss, Yorgaz, with all these flyers still in her possession at the end of her shift, he’d accuse her of lazinessagain. Then he’d launch into a rant about how her only job was to get asses into seats for the show, and if terrans were too stupid to do that, maybe he’d just ban them from his theater.
And Shay would bite her tongue and refrain from telling him that no one, no matter how alien, wanted to go watch trained skrudges—which were scary-looking, rat like animals—do tricks. Because sheneededthis job, sheneededthis fresh, legitimate start. She needed routine and stability. This was all she had for now. Once the baby came… Well, she’d figure out which branch to take when she reached that fork in the road.
Squaring her shoulders and setting her features in determination,Shay held a flyer out to the passing aliens. “Come see the Spectacular Skrudge Show!”
A tall, lean, four-armed dacrethian with pale pink skin glanced at her, snatched the flyer from her hand, and tossed it aside, walking on without even looking at it.
“Dick,” Shay said as she retrieved the flyer from the street. She backed away from the thicker foot traffic. “Come see the best trained skrudges in this galactic sector perform the most awe-inspiring tricks!”
The cycle continued on and on. Shay’s feet hurt more with each passing minute, her voice grew hoarser, her stomach was soon growling in hunger, and her frustration climbed to new heights. When another tall, powerfully built being passed her, Shay decided she’d had enough. Clearly her tactics weren’t working. She’d have tomakethem look at her.
Without thinking, Shay reached out, caught the being by his arm—an arm encased in some sort of segmented armor—and gave him a tug. “Hey, check out?—”
Her eyes widened as the male turned to face her and she looked up into his intense green eyes. He was an azhera, his dun fur run through with darker patches of brown, and his broad shoulders were at least twice as wide as hers. He was huge—and he was terrifyingly familiar.
His nostrils flared, and his dark lips peeled back to reveal his fangs. His brows fell low. “You.”
This was the azhera who’d taken her from Murgen. Who’dpurchasedher.
Who she’d robbed.
“Fuck,” Shay breathed.