Chapter 1
Leaning against the wall of the conference room, Jaron listened to his Unit Leader go over the highlights of their last few missions before moving on to discuss the latest issue and concern. Restless energy had Torkel close to pacing. Despite their best efforts, Lothar, a Marenian criminal master mind, managed to avoid capture at every turn. Until now.
New information came through hinting at Lothar’s recent involvement with a mystery buyer. Everything pointed at this being an individual known as The Collector. If they could arrest either of them it would land a blow to the growing illegal slave trade spreading across the planets.
Crippling a huge segment the enterprise Lothar led would be a point in their favor. Fate had worked against them in the past and every time they got close, Lothar managed to escape their clutches. It was enough to leave most of them frustrated and on edge. This mission, however, could be pivotal in changing that.
Once done, Torkel shut down the holo screen and faced the room. Everyone from all three teams was present. “Does everyone understand the mission parameters?”
Going back to take his seat, Jaron drummed his fingers on the table as he waited to see if any of his teammates would ask the question on everyone’s mind. Torkel’s gaze scanned the room before landing on him. He quirked a brow in return earning a frown.
“Jaron, as Team Leader on this, do you have questions?”
Torkel worried about him and rightly so. Jaron hadn’t done a good job hiding how much the attack on their home base a few months ago bothered him. The women, Chosens to his brethren, had been left alone and without protection aside from their security measures. A group of invaders had almost managed to snatch them. It wasn’t a pleasant memory for Jaron nor the others he ventured to guess.
Instead of giving voice to those feelings, Jaron bottled it down. Humor his constant companion, he quipped, “Who’s gonna keep Kyele from killing Lothar if we discover he’s been supporting The Collector?”
Part of the rumors abounding pertained to the two criminals possibly considering a partnership. Instead of grins, the members of their Jutak Unit all turned serious looks toward Kyele.
The Leader for Team Two twirled one of his ever-present knives on the surface of the table, point down. He glanced up as if feeling the heat of their stares and his green eyes sparked with an inner fire. The jagged scar on his cheek lent him an even scarier profile, though Kyele didn’t need help in that department.
In the growing silence, Kyele grunted and the knife disappeared into one of the sheaths on his person. “I’m not interested in Lothar.”
The dark rumble in his voice had Jaron jerking upright. Others continued to stare, but only Rydak dared to probe further. “You are fine with Jaron on this?”
Kyele shrugged and sprawled back in his chair, posture giving the appearance of relaxation despite the odd way his green orbs flickered. “Torkel chose him for the mission.”
Not long ago, Kyele discovered the identity of several criminals involved in torturing his Chosen. The results weren’t pretty as his fellow Jutak went on an unapproved rampage, which could have led to his dismissal from the Jutaks.
Deciding to push, Jaron asked, “What does Joni think of you staying behind?”
Joni seemed to have an amazing effect on his friend. Whatever she wanted, Kyele jumped to provide. It amused all of them to see the deadly soldier on one of the most elite military units held to the whims of his Chosen.
Kyele shot him a glare. “Joni doesn’t ask questions. As long as she stays safe, I’ll follow what Torkel dictates.”
Which pretty much summed it up. Joni safe equaled a calm Kyele. Danger to Joni meant they’d all need to look for cover in the aftermath.
Torkel cleared his throat. “Jaron, you and Team One leave shortly. Arak’s going as your back up in the lead position if necessary because I trust him to make sound decisions.”
In addition to the fact, the Argoran cat shifter could tear through enemies in a blink of an eye. Jaron nodded and tapped on the screen of his data pad to delete the details he’d already memorized. Chairs scraped and moved back as Geile, Gregir and Davar rose to their feet. Members of Team Two and Team Three stood as well. Both teams would remain on their home world, Enotia, and act as back up if necessary.
Arak tipped his chin up on his way out and the others acknowledged him with a head nod as they passed. Geile and Gregir came to stand next to Jaron as he stood, but it was Geile who stopped him from leaving the room by asking, “Do you really think Kyele can control himself?”
It was a legitimate concern yet Jaron trusted what Kyele had said in the room. He’d stand down and not push on this unless it impacted Joni directly.
“Yes. Or Joni will gut him with her knives.”
They all chuckled at the truth of this. The Earth woman was becoming more than an expert in the use of knives now that Torkel approved her for training with them. Jaron secretly believed Kyele helped her when the two of them were alone. No one learned as quickly as Joni did in such a short period of time.
Torkel rounded the table. “Jaron, I want to speak with you.”
Jaron paused his conversation with Geile and waited for his Unit Leader to approach.
“I’ll meet you out front.” Geile exchanged a back slap with Torkel and left with his brother Gregir on his heels, both moving with an ease that came from years of stealth and skill.
“Are there more details to go over?” Jaron tried to recall if he’d missed anything in the debriefing. They had intel stating Lothar’s plans to arrive on a supply moon in a few hours for a meet up. The sole purpose seemed to be adding innocent victims to the Marenian’s rapidly growing slave trade.
Torkel clasped his shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t do anything risky. Stick to the objective.”
Jaron gave Torkel his trademark grin. “I always stick to the objective. Kyele, Arak possibly Bane and Vee need the reminder, but not me.”
Torkel snorted. “They can be challenging to me, but I’ve watched you grow close to the Earth women. Anything that affects them negatively causes you to react without thinking.”
Torkel, Arak and Kyele had Chosens from Earth. The women differed greatly from Enotians and not just in their appearances. Each of them possessed an undefined quality which drew you in before you noticed. Getting to know them made it difficult to walk into this assignment with the air of neutrality needed to make wise decisions. Their humor, generosity and passion for the men they loved could not be ignored.
But Jaron didn’t want that. His life as a Jutak warrior fulfilled him and he planned to avoid any hints of an Earth woman looking for a Chosen. He’d watched how his brethren had suffered when danger threatened their Chosens. If he had to worry about someone special in his life, he’d lose his mind.
All his life, Jaron dreamed of being a Jutak. His maman and papan supported him by using all their finances to pay for his training. Being selected to join Torkel’s team solidified his goal and no one or anything would be allowed to derail him from living out the dream his parents sacrificed to see come true.
Not even the chance for love. He might be a failure to the family bloodline, but he wouldn’t fail in this endeavor.
“This is a mission, Torkel, and I’ll remain solid.” Foreboding tickled at Jaron’s senses. “I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”
Torkel winced at Jaron’s claim, causing a spurt of unexpected humor. “I am afraid of that.”
Then Torkel grew unusually serious as he stared into Jaron’s eyes. The brown gaze contained something Jaron wasn’t used to seeing from a man who led them fearlessly for many years. “I don’t like the chatter I’m hearing from our contacts. Lothar has passed a lot of the daily dealings on to his son, Niko, of late. Knowing he plans to personally arrive for this meeting doesn’t fit his new pattern. We’ve followed bad intel before and we almost lost members of Team Three in the resulting fall out. Stay on your guard and do not do anything foolish.”
Unease crawled up the back of Jaron’s neck, but he shook it off. “Faye has turned you into a worrier.”
Truthfully, Jaron worried more about Torkel’s Chosen. She was expecting the couple’s first child as was Arak’s Chosen. Both of his friends eagerly awaited the birth of their children. Torkel vacillated between pride and fear while Arak appeared to take the impending birth in stride.
“If I didn’t worry about the men I send out, I wouldn’t be a good Unit Leader, would I?” Dropping his arm, Torkel tipped his head to the side. He must have been reassured by whatever he saw because he dropped the matter. “I’ll walk you down.”
Together they reviewed last minute details, Jaron amazed as always by the hidden nuances his Unit Leader pointed out as well as potential problems. When they reached the lobby on the lower level, he knew they had covered every variable for the mission.
A quick glance at the hover-car when they arrived out front of the building confirmed members of Team One—Geile, Gregir and Davar occupying the back. Arak sat in the driver’s seat, arm propped on the steering guide.
Avoiding the expected fight to drive, Jaron circled around the rear to hop in the front passenger door. Before ducking his head to get in, he met Torkel’s gaze. With his arms crossed over his chest, all black Jutak uniform and brows pinched tight, his Unit Leader represented the ideal image of a Jutak warrior.
“Be safe, Jaron. Remember, take no chances.”
Jaron forced a smile to curl his lips. “Nothing’s going to go wrong, Torkel.”
***
Sasha arrived early on purpose. The added time gave her a chance to perform surveillance on the area. She had no illusions about Orland, the man who called for this meet, but on the off chance he was sincere, she’d agreed. Now Sasha regretted the momentary weakness.
Feeling sympathy for an ex-lover never paid off and this time probably wouldn’t be any different. She shook off the sense of impending doom and pushed up from her prone position in the grass. Nothing to do now, but see it through.
From her location, she studied the old structure in need of major repairs. In a sure sign of its age, the building creaked every time the late night wind blew. Surrounding buildings showed the same indication of decay. Darkness from the extended night on Volgar added to the eerie tone of the place.
Steps light, Sasha approached, slowly checking over her shoulder. Nothing but an abandoned factory district long past its purpose, windows cracked, broken frames and missing doors. What was once a vibrant hub of business existed no more.
A multitude of overgrown trees lined the far edge of the roadway, ending where a wooded area had already begun to encroach. Signs of a burgeoning quaint town in the form of one level homes built on the recesses of the land annoyed her. There were always fools willing to relocate to outposts like this on the whispers of a new life only to be disappointed.
Industries came and failed, none more so than here on Volgar where free trade ruled and a blind eye was turned toward irregularities. She hated coming to this dying satellite community for many reasons and this place now counted as one. It represented false dreams and lost hope.
Ignoring every warning bell in her head, Sasha pressed her hand to the cracked door of the central warehouse. The inoperable palm scanner clattered against the frame, evidence of cut wires dangling along the broken edges. Vandals had run wild at some point, but nothing remained for them to steal. She twisted to the side to slip through the narrow opening and winced as several jagged prongs snagged at the sleek one piece bodysuit she wore.
The interior of the warehouse matched the outside. Dilapidated machinery and outdated tech. A heavy pall hung in the air along with the smell of old socks and undisturbed dust.
Several abrupt sneezes left her eyes watery. Adding insult to injury, this place was an affront to her enhanced senses. “Anyone here?”
Silence.
Sasha walked around a bit, her feet kicking at forgotten bits. She started to question why she had bothered to come. Clearly her brain was having an off day when she agreed to Orland’s suggestion to meet. This was a waste of time and he didn’t deserve a drop of courtesy from her.
“You finally arrived.”
Hand to the modified laser on her hip, Sasha spun to face the direction of the voice. Muffled footsteps headed her way. It took a moment for the person to draw closer. The dim lighting from the metallic ceiling added enough of a glare Sasha needed to squint, but she recognized the man and the voice.
“What’s so important we needed to meet?” Her voice carried a hint of her irritation, but Sasha didn’t care.
“Can’t an old friend want to catch up?” With his blond tipped brown hair waved back from a broad forehead, piercing blue eyes and a fit build typical of Argorans, Orland Z’bin came across as handsome and charismatic.
Women fell into his bed without a care. He projected an air of confidence and reliability, his charisma accounting for his minor successes in certain ventures.
She stared at his deceitful face and wondered how she’d let down her guard enough to remotely believe she could love him. Had she been desperate to the point of blindness?
Her upper lip curled. How easily Sasha saw through his false visage. Now. “I would think after the way we parted the last time there’d be nothing more to say.”
A few months ago, Orland attempted to lay claim to a job she’d worked on for weeks. With their positions, it was inevitable that their paths would cross. A few times against her best judgment she’d even teamed up with him on a tough assignment or two. But that last time, the one incident that would forever color her opinion of him, Orland stole her prize and tried to collect the reward.
Fortune smiled her way since Sasha had already called in to the owner, who put out the request and sent vid verification of her in possession of the object. The owner had been very pleased and prepared to offer a bonus. Until Orland. She’d claimed her credits for the find, but lost the bonus.
Orland walked toward her with lean hipped grace, not stopping until only a few inches separated them. He leaned forward, hands propped on his hips and a half smile curled on the corner of his mouth. She refused to back away from the way he invaded her personal space.
“Come now, Sasha. I hoped we had both moved beyond that…misunderstanding.”
Misunderstanding, right. Straining to keep her face expressionless, Sasha held back her growl. She planted a fist on one hip, close to the holster of her weapon for easy access, though it only had stun capabilities. “Don’t play games, Orland. What do you want?”
“Just. A. Little. Payback.” His eyes darkened and his lips flattened into a sneer.
Floorboards creaked behind her. Another twinge of remorse bit Sasha on the ass. Sasha sighed in resignation. She shouldn’t have trusted her former peer and lover when he said he needed to meet with her in private. Location alone should have warned her.
Wasn’t that a bitch.
An abandoned warehouse late at night with nothing but a modified laser holstered on her hip wasn’t going to do her a lot of good. It looked like her luck held true again when it came to making bad choices about who to trust.
“You don’t sound like you’re over the misunderstanding,” she joked, body tensing in preparation to fight.
The lights above winked off, leaving the place shrouded in blackness. Sasha jerked to the left, but a solid fist planted into the side of her face. Sharp reflexes and the warning swish of air enabled her to lean away, but she still sustained a powerful blow. Her cheek exploded from the pain as she stumbled to the side and flipped backward. Blood filled her mouth.
Feraki! Sasha danced on her heels, back on her feet and dodged a succession of punches. Twisting about she landed a few kicks to a firm mid-section, the loud groans rewarding her.
“Give it up, Sasha!”
How many times did she need to have him turn against her before she learned her lesson? “What do you hope to gain from this, Orland?”
Instead of an answer, sudden pressure tugged at her waist then the snap of leather signaled the holster on her hip giving way. A hard shove to the back sent her flying across the floor, arms extended. Skin scraped and abraded her palms, drawing a sting. Sasha cursed, rolling to the side and leaped to her feet. Now, she had no weapon.
Orland’s partner definitely had more training than her old nemesis. Orland’s eerie laugh bounced off the walls around her. The sound carried a hint of victory. “You can’t run, Sasha.”
Like she’d run from the bottom feeder. Maintaining her silence, Sasha narrowed her gaze, straining to see in the dark. A flicker to her left had her spinning. Something slammed into her side from the right. Pain arced down her spine and her ankle twisted as she dodged the second strike.
A huskier laugh joined Orland’s. Sasha bit off another curse. Who did he have working for him? She didn’t boast lightly when it came to her skills. No one ever got the drop on her. Combined with her Argoran shifter genetics she knew she wasn’t easy prey.
Wisps of sound saved her from another hit as Sasha changed positions, making her way to the far wall. This wasn’t random. Whatever he planned, Orland had come with a dangerous partner which made Sasha the fool. Again.
She really needed to learn—men couldn’t be trusted. Especially if they were former lovers.
“I think we can both agree that one of us needs to go. Two Bounty Retrievers working the same targets and same clients can get tricky.”
The taunt came from the right and behind her. This time Sasha eased her way to the side, left hand outstretched in hopes of using the wall to guide her as she searched for the door to get out. Despite her earlier thoughts of not running, prudency governed the need for retreat.
Orland snickered. “Now you want to be quiet. Usually you can’t stop talking.”
Sasha grinned and wished she could see his face. How often Orland used to get frustrated by her protracted silences during the debates he initiated. His snappish responses to those times supported her belief in his inability to work well with strong women who didn’t bow down to his loud opinion. Another mark against him. Her judgment in selecting lovers needed work.
Footsteps scuffled ahead of her, so she adjusted her trajectory. While her second assailant possessed a higher level of stealth than Orland, he couldn’t hide his scent and the distinctive odor carried a tangy bite of bitterness.
Inhaling silently, Sasha avoided the general direction of his smell. Orland on the other hand was a master tracker like her. He also wore something to disguise his scent. All Argorans possessed a stronger sense of smell yet gave off very little. Enhancements to eliminate it entirely were easily purchased on the illegal market. Trust Orland to use such against her. Sasha shook her head. She really did have the worst luck.
“There’s no way out, Sasha.”
There was always a way out. It’s how she managed to survive this long and attain her hard-won reputation as one of the best Bounty Retrievers around. She assumed the warning to be another effort to pin her position.
Catching a glimpse of moonlight through the crack of the door she’d used earlier, Sasha dug her heels into the floor and burst forward running. In a few feet, she’d be free and harder to track once out of this enclosed space. Then she’d think of a way to get back at Orland.
The solid bulk of a muscled arm caught her about the front of her throat. Pain ricocheted from the neck down. Sasha gagged as she jerked back and fell to all four on the ground choking. Another kick to the side of her head and Sasha tilted over, barely bracing a palm out to catch her weight.
“Orland! You’ll pay!” She called in a hoarse snarl. Her throat continued to burn.
Rough hands grappled at her as Orland snatched her arms and bent them behind her at an awkward angle. Her claws split through her fingers and she slashed out. Fabric ripped and tore filling her with satisfaction. She tried to push to her feet, but the shooting pain in her head stopped her.
“I think you’re the one who’ll pay,” Orland muttered in her ear before yanking her to her feet.
Strength and size won out. As much as Sasha struggled, he managed to get a pair of plasti-cuffs on her wrists and dragged her toward the door. Outside, the stars cast eerie shadows on Orland’s face. His partner joined him and she flinched. A Serpine.
Curses bubbled forth. She’d never met one before, but the pale green skin and the raised hood from his shoulder slits helped decipher his race. The serpent like people were clan based and followed the rule of matriarchs on their home world. Why was Orland dealing with one all of a sudden? He hated them based on the simple fact they made far better fighters than Argorans.
When the Serpine grinned, a row of jagged sharp teeth flashed. He folded his arms over his vest covered chest and bumped arms with Orland. “You sure you don’t want to have fun with her first?”
Venomous. Sex with him would be deadly due to the poison secreted from his bodily fluids. Sasha glanced Orland’s way expecting him to protest. His cold glare sent a shiver down her back. A glimmer of glee reflected from the dark eyes as if he might be considering it.
Sasha stiffened, shoulders back. Whatever he chose she wouldn’t beg for mercy because clearly he planned to show none. “What exactly do you think to do? Cuffing me for arrest when I have no charges is a waste.”
What was his end game? Had he truly set her up to come here only to taunt her? Surely the idea of competition wouldn’t result in this unnecessary attack. Sasha wasn’t the only Bounty Retriever around.
“As soon as I’m free, I’ll report you to the Retrievers Association.” As far as threats went, it wasn’t her best.
Orland’s chuckle conveyed the same opinion. Sasha straightened as much as she could and met his gloating stare.
They all worked as freelancers. Easy credits for the return of stolen or missing items and sometimes a hunt for a fugitive. To her dismay, she and Orland tended to work the same zones which was how they’d met. Within days of knowing him, it was clear she was the better Bounty Retriever, thus receiving more client requests than him. Another sign their brief attempt at a relationship was doomed for failure.
Although she tended to get the first point of contact from clients in this zone, others received an equal amount of calls. She didn’t handle every available case offered. Her work spoke for itself. As did Orland’s.
Lazy defined Orland’s work ethic. He went for the easy jobs and cheated on the harder ones. Like now. A prime example of cheating by removing an opponent. At least the Retrievers Association took matters like this seriously. They didn’t want their bounties fighting one another.
“I’m not worried about the RA. Once you disappear things will be a lot smoother for me around here. No more Sasha to contend with.”
Her stomach tightened. More than their bitter bantering, more than his envy of her success, the words had a tone of finality to it. Standing face to face, arms behind her, Sasha glared. “If you go through with this, my life goal will be to seek revenge. I won’t rest until I pay you back. I’ll destroy your reputation. No one will ever work with you again.”
Orland merely laughed in her face and held her stunner aloft in a taunting manner. “Where you’re going, you’ll have more important things on your mind to worry about.”
Glancing from the Serpine and back to Orland, Sasha knew she had one chance. Her claws sawed frantically at the plasti-cuffs. In this instance, Orland’s reputation for using cheap quality products worked in her favor. Otherwise nothing would break through the bonds.
Sasha let a small smile tease her lips and thrust her breasts forward. “Maybe we can work things out.”
His eyes predictably dropped. Only a little longer. Just enough time to keep him talking and her hands would be free.
“I don’t have an interest in working anything out.”
The sudden release of tension from her wrists registered and Sasha growled as she leaped across the short distance prepared to rip his face to shreds. Her fellow Argoran stunned her mid-step.
Sasha yelped and hit the ground, feeling the jolt to her bones. With what little mobility she had, her head tipped to the side. Another smug grin crossed Orland’s face as he came to kneel beside her. His features grew wavy. “Looks like it’s time for us to say goodbye, dear Sasha.”
Maniacal laughter followed as darkness encroached.
“Bye, Sasha,” the serpine echoed.
When she awakened in the cage later, Sasha knew she was in deep trouble. Dangerous high voltage electro-bars insured she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Orland set his trap perfect. Sasha often traveled for work without communication and no one would find her silence and disappearance unusual.
A few acquaintances might become concerned, but they’d brush it off to her over zealous focus on her work as a retriever. There may have also been a few times in her past when she went off without notice because of tricky assignments. Maybe more than a few. Except in this instance, it would be as a result of Orland’s duplicity.
Dread rolled through her. In spite of her efforts to remain calm, a low snarl broke past her lips. “You’ll pay for this, Orland.”
Muttering the threat gave her strength. She tried to convince herself she’d been through worst. The small reminder bolstered her courage. As long as she believed she’d get out of this, nothing else mattered. Another deep breath and Sasha turned around to take stock of her situation.
Around her a row of cages lined one wall. Each contained a single occupant. Some slumped in their cage perhaps still stunned, others curled in corners, bodies huddled into a small ball. Alarm trickled along her senses. Not typical. What exactly did Orland have planned to get rid of her? The variety of life forms raised another flag.
Engines rumbled to life and the grated floor of the cage she’d been loaded in vibrated beneath her feet. Sasha turned toward the exit of the cargo ship at the sound of raised voices. Uniformed guards leaped through the opening under the closing bay doors. With a metal clang, it slid shut, the sound one of permanence.
The guards sauntered toward her, their faces shielded by matte helmets with tinted visors. Sasha flexed her unbound hands and released her claws on a loud snick. At least she no longer wore the cuffs.
“What am I doing here? What’s going on?”
They walked toward each of the cages one by one and made notations on their data pads. Once finished, they left, never saying a word to her or any of the captives.
Feraki! This didn’t look good at all.