Chapter 15
ZALIS
“I could carry you,” Zalis offered. He kept his pace slow, matching Gemma’s.
“No thank you,” she replied.
He closely monitored her ambulation. Initially, she had struggled to use the cane but now moved smoothly with it.
“Are you certain? I could carry you like a queen and make the crowd part. Or perhaps on my back? You would grip my shoulders, and I would hold your legs thus.” He demonstrated.
That earned a grin. “Offering piggyback rides now? Tempting.”
“You have done a lot of walking,” he said. “There is no shame in resting.”
“We’re almost there.”
His mate was stubborn. The markets of Tholla had been dense and crowded. The noise, unfamiliar smells, and the proximity of so many people put Zalis on edge. He much preferred solitude, but Gemma thrived. She dragged him from stall to stall, always curious and always enthusiastic.
She touched fabrics, marveling at the softness.
She asked about the various functions of appliances and household goods.
She admired the handcrafts. She exclaimed over the fragrance of a soap, prompting Zalis to purchase several bars.
As well as a pair of velvet slippers and a tub of hand cream made from a local plant known for its healing properties.
The aroma of freshly baked bread lured her to the food stall, or sugary sweetness of a confection, or the juicy allure of fruit.
She had to try everything. Zalis enjoyed watching her delight as she encountered new foods and flavors.
In the short time they had been mated, he had learned that she enjoyed discovering food the way he enjoyed disassembling and rebuilding electronics.
He carried a bouquet of candied flowers, the stems and leaves made of a chewy confection and the flowers clusters of spun sugar. As they walked, Gemma reached up to pluck a flower.
“You are behaving like a thieving moku,” he teased.
“What’s a moku? Is it cute?” She popped a petal into her mouth.
“They are ravenous. Their teeth can chew through metal.”
“Thieving implies sneaky, and I’m not being sneaky.” She reached up again, moving her hand slowly, maintaining eye contact.
He tried to feign an exasperated expression but there was no fooling Gemma.
She grinned as she ate another petal. “I think you like sharing.”
He did, but only with her.
The spaceport was equally crowded but Zalis detected exhaustion. Gemma’s steps were slower. Silence replaced her constant stream of questions.
“We will be on the shuttle soon and return to the Judgment,” he said.
“It’s been a long day, and I didn’t get much sleep.”
He knew that. She tossed and turned all night, her thoughts and worries loud enough for him to hear.
“You will sleep better now that this is done.”
“Probably,” she agreed.
Gemma gasped and her entire body went tense, as if she spotted a large predator.
“It’s him!” She pointed to a figure walking toward them.
A Sangrin male wearing decorative silver chains wrapped around his horns, pushed through the crowd with an air of entitlement, like he expected a path to clear for him. He looked ridiculous.
“How do you know this male?” Zalis asked, though he suspected the answer.
“The ringleader.”
As he thought.
Zalis recognized the male. His was a face made notorious for over promising tech and delivering products that never functioned properly, if they existed at all. He excelled at marketing and managed to avoid serious repercussions. Somehow people kept giving him their credits.
“Are you certain?” Zalis asked.
“Yes. I can’t forget his weaselly little face. Who is he?”
“Niklas Sarruset.”
“That means nothing to me. Is he famous? Important? Rich?”
“My team has encountered him before. He is slippery and clever enough to avoid prosecution.”
“That tracks.” Tension vibrated through Gemma’s body as she hooked her cane over one arm to allow both hands to operate her comm unit. “We need to call Constable Pama.”
“It will not matter.”
“What? Of course it matters.”
He did not want to tell Gemma the truth of the situation. He wanted to give her the illusion that if they reported the ringleader’s identity, he would face consequences and she could get justice. Only their vow to be honest with one another kept him from telling that sweet lie.
“Niklas Sarruset has some wealth and Tholla is a corrupt place. If Constable Pama arrests him, bribes will make the charges vanish. It has happened before.”
Gemma stared hard after the male, fury on her face. “So we don’t even try? He gets to walk away and I have to deal?”
A Mahdfel’s purpose was straightforward. They fought the Suhlik. They protected treaty allies. They lived for their families. Problems and situations that involved politics or influence were frustrating because Zalis’ first instinct was to punch the problem.
That would not work here.
Punching required a secondary location.
As if sensing he was the focus of their discussion, the male glanced at them as he walked past. No recognition. No concern. Nothing but an empty husk of a vile being.
It was unacceptable. Zalis had a duty to Gemma, to all the abducted females, to correct the situation and give them justice. A rough justice, but justice, nonetheless.
“No,” he said, alarmed at the recklessness growing in him. “Niklas Sarruset does not get to walk away.”
GEMMA
It hurt when the weasel didn’t recognize her and that annoyed Gemma. Niklas Sarruset bought and sold people. He was literally the worst. He didn’t deserve to know her.
But that didn’t stop her from feeling forgotten and small when he looked straight at her and walked away.
“I will cause a diversion and place a tracker on him,” Zalis said.
That statement was wild enough to yank her attention away from glaring daggers at the weasel. “You carry around trackers?”
“Victory goes to the prepared.” He bent to touch his boot and removed a decorative button, or what she had presumed to be decorative. A flat brass button rested in the palm of his hand. “Small but effective. Kinetic powered with nano hooks for adherence.”
Gemma touched the tracker, surprised to find it warm. “It’s so small. I don’t have a tracker on me, do I?” She patted the black plastic buttons on her cardigan.
“Not to my knowledge.”
That wasn’t a no.
Worry about that later.
Niklas disappeared into the crowd.
“He’s getting away,” she said and followed.
Gemma wasn’t a hunter or a tracker. If Niklas gave them the slip, he’d be gone forever, and it wouldn’t be hard to give them the slip.
Urgency made Gemma clumsy, bumping into others with her cane.
Niklas was going to get away, and he’d never face justice—even a watered-down plea bargain kind of justice—because Gemma was too short and the crowd too dense.
“That kiosk,” Zalis said, steering them in the right direction. Height had its advantages.
And then… nothing. All that talk about not letting the weasel walk away and Zalis just stood there while the weasel got a hot drink.
“Do something,” she said, keeping her voice low.
“Patience. The ideal opportunity will present itself.”
Gemma doubted that. Zalis couldn’t walk up to the weasel and politely ask to put a tracker on him. Nor could he just punch the guy, even if he deserved it. Well, he physically could, but polite society discourages random violence and laws, blah blah blah.
Well, no one would ever call Gemma polite, and she definitely wasn’t one for standing around and doing nothing.
“I could use a drink,” she announced.
As she approached the stall, Niklas was leaving, drink in hand. He did not look her way or pay her any mind. He certainly didn’t notice when Gemma stuck out her cane, causing him to trip and fall to his knees, spilling his drink.
It felt good. Really good.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice flat. Acting wasn’t her strong suit, all right? With him on his knees in a puddle of something hot and sugary, the urge to continue whacking him with her cane was strong. So strong.
“You tripped me.” Before Niklas could continue, Zalis was there helping him to his feet. Before long, he was on his way, grumbling about clumsy tourists.
“You should not have done that,” Zalis said.
“I’m impulsive, but you knew that.” She wouldn’t apologize. “It feels wrong just letting him walk away.”
Zalis raised his arm, displaying the screen on his comm unit. A small glyph blinked and moved on the screen. “He is leaving the station. Let us follow.”
A rare moment of adult responsibility hit Gemma. “We’ll miss our ride back to the ship.”
“There are more shuttles.”
“Do you mean shuttles going specifically to our ship or in general, like shuttles exist and we’ll find a ride?
Because while I really want to go kick that guy in the balls, I also don’t want to get left behind.
Do Sangrin even have balls? Sorry, that’s rude.
” Gemma flapped her hands, trying to shake off the spike of adrenaline.
When she saw the weasel, she went cold. No panic.
No anger. Tripping him with the cane had felt nice, empowering even, but now that he was gone, she was trembling.
“May I touch you?” Zalis asked. She nodded. His hand resting on her shoulder helped ground her. “There are hourly shuttles to the Judgment. We will not be left behind.”
She let out a slow breath. “Okay.”
“You said our ship,” he said with absolute pride in his voice.
Yeah, she had. “Don’t get excited. It’s where I keep all my stuff.”
He grinned, flashing his fangs. Gemma braced herself for relentless teasing, about his romantic prowess, how she could not resist his charms, but it never came. Instead, he gently steered her through the crowd.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, finally asking the obvious.
“What must be done.”
“That’s not as enigmatic as you think. If you’re choosing violence, you don’t have to beat around the bush.”
“Are bushes invasive on Earth? I have heard this idiom before,” he said.
“Are you cracking a joke right now?” Gemma searched his expression for an answer.