Chapter 27 Lacy #2
If they did go for the dangerous job, I knew people here on Rigel Naught who knew people. New crews weren’t usually tapped to carry something this dangerous, but I was pretty sure I could get them the job. The question was, how much would I have to reveal to Dax and his crew to make it happen.
No one spoke, but I was absolutely sure that a conversation was happening between the three of them based on the long looks and facial expressions.
“Assuming we want to take on the stupid shooters, what do we have to do?”
“The first step is easy—we make contact with the client. Then we need to convince them that we’re qualified to take the job.”
“‘We’?” Finn said with a sneer.
“Do you know anyone else with connections here?” Shit. That came out harsher than I intended.
“Both of you behave.” Dax used his I’m-in-command voice.
I probably shouldn’t have found that as hot as I did.
Fine. I would play nice. Hands raised in an I’m-not-starting-anything position, I turned to Finn. “You got a current map?”
“Of the station?”
“Yeah.” I kept my tone carefully neutral.
He pulled out his comms and projected a map of the station onto the table.
I slid my fingers over the projected screen and turned the city this way and that. It had been years since I’d been here, but it didn’t look like all that much had changed.
I turned the station back to its original orientation and zoomed in. “This is where we are.” My finger jabbed into a cluster of dots that represented buildings. I pointed to another section several inches away. “This is where we docked.”
“Duh,” Finn said.
Ignoring him, I pinched my fingers together and spun the map a quarter turn. “Pukka berries are here.”
Another quarter turn spin. “Saber fish are here.”
Another spin, whirling the station upside down. “And stupid shooters are here.”
That deep into the station, the map was fuzzy and less substantial.
“Bullshit,” Finn said. “There’s nothing there.” He turned to Dax. “Why are you listening to her, Sarge? She’s got nothing.”
I raised my eyes from the map to him and kept my voice cool. “Have you been down there?”
He smirked. “No. No point. There’s nothing there.” He spoke slowly, like I was a child . . . or an idiot.
“Finn—” Dax started but I shook my head, cutting him off. There was only one way to deal with this.
Our waitress was at a nearby table, so I flagged her down when she left them. With an easy smile, I asked, “Is Bolton still working out of Sub3?”
Her eyes widened and her skin paled. “I don’t . . .” She broke off and swallowed. “I don’t know anything about that. Let me get my manager.”
She bolted from our table.
“What the fuck was that?” Burn asked. “Who is Bolton?”
I studied Dax and his crew before responding. Burn looked intrigued, Finn was pissed—at this point, I was pretty sure that was his whole personality—and Dax was obviously weighing everything he heard.
“Sublevel 3 is where the stupid shooters are, as well as a whole array of other dangerous and unsavory shit. They keep the explosives as far away from the main station as possible.”
“Bullshit,” Finn repeated.
I shrugged and ate another fry, though I was only half as nonchalant as I projected. It was possible things had changed since I was last here, but I didn’t think so. If a huge shakeup in the shadier side of Rigel Naught had occurred, trickles of information would have reached Elegium Station.
A shadow fell across the table and I camouflaged my smirk by sipping my drink.
A redhead stood next to Dax. At least two decades older than me, her pale skin glowed in the bar’s dim light and her body radiated displeasure. Moya of Moya’s Place. “You upset my waitress.”
“It was her fault.” Finn was quick to point at me. “She’s trying to feed us some bullshit story about some big explosives and spooky sublevels to scare us into doing things her way.”
What an asshole. I’d roll my eyes, but I didn’t want to piss Moya off when I needed her help.
Moya turned her disapproving gaze on him. “Bolton isn’t a story.”
Her gaze swept slowly over our entire table. Burn’s hand dropped below the table. I wanted to wave her off, but I wasn’t sure she’d listen to me. Next to me, Dax tensed.
Then I was the one pinned under her gaze. She studied me for a long moment. Did she know who I was? “Y’all don’t look like folks who have business with Bolton.”
“We—”
She cut Finn off with a slash of her hand. Damn, the number of times I’d wanted to do that and I’d just met him.
“We need cargo,” I said.
Her finely arched brow raised. “There’s plenty of cargo on the station. Have you considered pukka berries?”
My lips curved into a half-smile until I caught it and smoothed it out. “Looking for a something a little richer.”
She didn’t say anything. Just waited for one of us—me—to fill the silence.
I relented because I wasn’t sure how much patience my companions had. “Stupid shooters.”
The words hung in the air. Then she laughed. A deep, rich belly laugh.
“Oh, you’re precious.”
Both Burn and Dax tensed beside me. I just prayed Finn didn’t do something stupid.
“Assuming you can even get a meeting with Bolton, what makes you think you’re qualified to run stupid shooters?”
The tension around the table ratcheted up and I knew things were about to go to hell. And Finn would be the reason.
Best-case scenario: we’d get kicked off planet and lose our cargo . . . and my chance to go after Layla. Worst case? We died in a bar fight.
“I’ve done it before.” I focused on Moya and ignored the other three. Their stares were a weight on my shoulders.
“Sure, sugar,” she drawled. “Who’d let a pretty young thing like you run dangerous cargo like that?”
I knew she was baiting me. I still didn’t know if she’d recognized me. Fuck. I didn’t see any other way out.
I took a deep breath and blew my current situation up. “Orpheus Blazer.”