She stood in the shadows, watching the gladiators fight.

Sweat-slicked muscles, black tattoos, masculine grunts, and the clash of weapons. It was a pretty awe-inspiring sight, she had to admit.

Neve Haynes studied the tattooed Raiden, swinging his sword, his red cloak whipping behind him. He smacked the huge gladiator he was fighting in the chest with the flat of his blade. Thorin staggered backward, his boots kicking up sand, and scales flickered on his skin. He fell on his ass and his curses filled the air.

Raiden laughed. “Getting slow, my friend.”

Thorin stood, dusting off his trousers. He growled. “I’ll show you slow, old man.”

But then Raiden, Champion of the Kor Magna Arena, clapped the man’s back, and both of them smiled.

Neve let her gaze sweep over the House of Galen training arena. There were a number of other gladiators training, all honing their skills to fight in the huge arena beyond. Axes, swords, and nets flew and flashed in the sunlight. Everyone fought with fierce, strong, and unrelenting moves. She spotted Harper, a human woman like Neve. The former space station security officer ran across the sand and when she reached Raiden, the alien gladiator swept her into his arms for a hard kiss.

Neve shook her head as dark memories stirred. They’d all been abducted from space by Thraxian slavers, and ended up on this distant desert world. Remembered screams, panicked shouts, and the guttural grunts of the huge Thraxians echoed in Neve’s ears. She dragged in a deep breath. After their capture, the slavers had traveled back through a temporary wormhole that left the humans stranded here, somewhere on the opposite side of the galaxy from Earth. They had no way home.

Harper and the handful of other human survivors were making the best of their situation, creating homes for themselves here on the planet of Carthago. They were falling in love with alien gladiators, and finding their places in the House of Galen.

But Neve’s home wasn’t Earth, or a gladiatorial house, or any place. Her home was a person. And that person was lost here on Carthago. Somewhere.

She turned, sticking to the shadows. She flicked her hood up over her head, and checked that the short staff she’d borrowed from the armory was still hidden under her cloak. Her long staff, the one she’d made herself when she’d been stuck in the fucking alien hunting ground in the desert, was tucked safely back in the bedroom she’d been allocated.

Out of view of the training gladiators, she paused and reached up. With a quick jump, she climbed up the cream stone walls onto a balcony above. She crouched and glanced over the rooftops. The imperator of the House of Galen was no idiot, and he protected what was his. Guards in gray-and-red cloaks, with swords in their scabbards, patrolled the roofs.

But she’d been watching them for long enough to know their schedules and routines. She hurried along the wall, and as soon as the closest guard turned, she clambered up over the stone and onto the roof.

She quickly snuck across the tiles and then jumped down on the other side. She landed with a soft thud in the middle of the busy crowd below. No one noticed her.

Neve was used to sneaking around. She’d spent years ensuring she didn’t attract anybody’s attention. It had started during her childhood. Her belly tightened, and she hurried forward. Really, it had been her years as a corporate spy that had helped her hone her stealth skills.

She passed two young women, with similar dark hair that fell in braids over their shoulders. They were giggling conspiratorially. Sisters. A sharp pain pierced her chest, like an arrow lodging in her heart.

Where are you, Ever? I’m going to find you. Neve’s jaw tightened. For so long, it had just been her and her sister. Neve and Ever. Always. Their parents had died young, and they’d ended up in the dubious care of their father’s estranged sister. Their bitter, alcoholic aunt had not been very happy to inherit two sad, grieving girls. That’s when Neve had first learned to sneak out. Shimmying out her bedroom window without being noticed.

When she’d reached her teens, she’d snuck out to a part-time job, stashing away money so she could get Ever the things her aunt refused to buy. And later, so Neve had enough money to get herself and Ever out of that house.

And now, both of them were here on Carthago, where they’d never expected to be.

Neve ducked into a tunnel, following some arena workers. She moved into the crowd, listening to snatches of conversation around her. She needed any clue she could get as to the location of Zaabha. Ever was being held prisoner at the vicious desert arena, and Neve was getting her out.

From everything Neve heard, the place was wild, savage, and dangerous. Her hands clenched into fists. Stolen fighters were forced to fight to the death. She blew out a harsh breath. Her sister was smart, and also well-trained, thanks to time spent in the Army. She’d be okay.

Neve stopped at a stall selling drinks. Several workers sat on stools, sipping frothy ales, smiling and talking. Pasting on a smile, she ordered a drink, and began chatting to the lady beside her. Soon, the workers relaxed around her, and she started asking questions.

But it didn’t matter how many times she snuck out of the House of Galen to gather intel, no one knew anything useful about Zaabha. Of course, everyone knew the myths and legends, but most people didn’t even believe it was real.

Her belly churning with frustration, Neve slid off her stool, and continued walking through the busy tunnels. The crowd around her bustled, busy doing the behind-the-scenes work for the fights that went on in the arena above. People were selling food, leather, weapons, and other wares. But unlike Zaabha, no one fought to the death in the Kor Magna Arena. Here, the gladiators fought to show off their skills for the adoring crowds.

Suddenly, a woman’s scream pierced the air. Neve heard the scuffle of people fighting.

She spun and spotted a big alien turning jerkily in the center of the crowd. He had thick, green-tinted skin, and was huge. Easily a foot taller than everyone else. He wore leather trousers and a matching vest. His head was bald with large, dark, rapidly-shifting eyes. Something about him made her think of an ogre.

He was holding some sort of metallic device in his huge palm.

“No one move!” he shouted, his voice booming. “Or I’ll blow everyone to pieces.”

All around, people froze. Neve heard whimpers, and spotted a group of men edging closer to the alien.

The big green man swung, waving his weapon at them. “Stop.”

The men froze.

“I want everyone’s coins. Put them in a bag. Now!”

Neve huffed out an annoyed breath. This was really ruining her information gathering. She pulled her staff off her back and strode forward.

At the last second, the man’s huge eyes flicked her way. Neve lunged forward and swung her staff, whacking him solidly in the gut. He let out a giant woof of air and doubled over. She hit him again, slamming her staff into his knee. He let out a bellow.

As he dropped to his knees, she slammed her staff into the back of his shoulders. He groaned and pitched forward, the bomb dropping from his hand. Neve dived, caught the device, and landed with her knees digging into the alien’s back. He whimpered beneath her.

“Now what?” a voice drawled.

Damn. Of all the people on the planet, it had to be this one. She lifted her head and looked at Corsair.

Lots of words trickled through her mind as she stared at the man. Pirate. Desert rogue. Caravan master. Too damn good-looking.

His muscled body was clothed in dark trousers and a desert shirt of pale tan. A dark leather belt circled lean hips and a leather bandolier crossed his chest. Both were loaded with weapons. Shaggy brown hair, tinted gold by the desert suns, curled around a handsome, rugged face. He had gorgeous golden eyes the color of polished amber.

Two people stood behind him. One was a hulking giant of a man with dark hair, who was scowling and watching Neve with dark eyes. The other was a stunningly beautiful woman with wide aquamarine eyes and chunky goggles sitting up on top of her long black hair.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Neve told Corsair.

He reached down and took the bomb. He handed it off to the woman. “Mersi, take care of this for me.”

“You got it, boss.” The woman took the bomb, her eyes alight with interest.

Corsair nodded at the still-silent hulk beside him. With a grunt, the man leaned down, gripped the spluttering alien by his belt and heaved him up like he weighed nothing. They turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Neve stayed where she was and glared at Corsair. The caravan master shot her an amused smile and held a hand out to her. She ignored it—and the glint of challenge in his eyes—and jumped to her feet.

Around them, several people clapped and cheered.

Great. She hunched her shoulders. So much for keeping a low profile.

“Galen won’t be pleased that you slipped out,” Corsair said. “Again.”

Neve shrugged. She was honest enough to admit that the imperator was more than a little intimidating. Especially when he was angry.

But finding Ever was more important. Neve would face anything and anyone to find her sister.

Corsair reached out, his fingers brushing Neve’s cheek. She slapped his hand away.

The infuriating man just smiled.

He was annoying, tempting, and a distraction. She did not need him getting in her way.

* * *

What the drak was it about this woman?

She was trouble. Corsair knew that in his bones. He’d been born and raised in the desert, and he’d been running his own caravan for years. He’d learned to predict trouble at a very young age. When a smudge on the horizon would turn into a sandstorm. What passengers to take, and which ones to turn away. Which routes to travel, and which ones to avoid at all costs.

And yet, he was still drawn to Neve like a desert fly to a campfire.

“Did you find anything during your snooping?” he asked.

She glared at him with pale-green eyes. “No. To everyone, Zaabha’s just a myth.” Annoyance rode her tone, and she looked away.

Corsair frowned, studying the curve of her jaw, and the sharp blade of her nose. Usually, he preferred curvy, smiling women. Easy women, who came to his bed and left when he asked them to. Not edgy, dangerous, and surly.

“Come on.” He nudged Neve with his elbow. “I’ll walk you back to the House of Galen.”

She pulled away from him. “I’m not ready to go back. I need to find my sister.”

“Galen’s looking for Zaabha, Neve, and he has more resources than you do. You know how hard he’s working to rescue your sister, along with Dayna and Sam.”

“Not fast enough,” she grumbled.

“You think you can do better?”

“I have to do something.” There was a flash of pain in her eyes.

Drak. “I’ve been asking around. I might have a lead.”

She spun, her gaze narrowing. They were on the edge of the crowd, near the entrance to an empty tunnel.

“When I know more, I’ll tell you—”

Suddenly, she leaped on him, catching him by surprise. She rode him to the ground and Corsair hit the stone floor hard, the air rushing out of him.

Her knees dug into his sides. “What do you know? Where is it?”

He pushed up, and they rolled across the floor. She cursed, and all he felt was that sleek body pressed against his. She was all strength and agility that he found insanely attractive.

She tried to knee him in the balls, but he deflected, and they rolled again. He ended up beneath her once more.

And really, he didn’t mind it all that much.

“Where. Is. Zaabha?” she demanded.

“I don’t know, Neve. I said I have a potential lead. I didn’t want to get your hopes up until I checked it out.”

“Until we check it out.”

“No. It was from a desert trader. The desert is my terrain, not yours. You’ll scare off my informants in about half a stellar second.”

“It’s my sister who’s lost out there, not yours.”

All of a sudden, she was jerked off him.

Corsair looked up to see the big shape of Bren, his right-hand man, standing there, holding Neve by the back of her shirt.

She made a snarling noise, kicking her legs to try to get free.

But Bren was all solid strength, and held her with ease. Corsair jumped to his feet. Beyond Bren, Mersi—his right-hand woman—watched them all with a smile. With her amazing ability to finesse any engine, device, or gadget, plus her skill at organizing anything and anyone with military precision, she’d clearly already dealt with the explosive he’d given her.

“Let her go, Bren.” Corsair dusted off his trousers, as his friend obeyed. “You need to learn some manners, Neve. Once I—” He looked up and saw she was gone.

Bren shrugged his broad shoulders and Corsair let out a breath.

“Losing your touch, Corsair,” Mersi said gleefully.

He looked at his oldest friends and shook his head. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Then he turned, hands on his hips, and looked down the empty tunnel. One thing he knew for certain was that he hadn’t seen the last of Neve Haynes.