Page 35 of Dark Survivor
“Good,” she said.“Let me know what you find out.”
“Will do,” he said, strolling down the passage.
Well, now that was entertaining.Tiny hoped she didn’t run into that woman.She’d be a sitting duck, unable to see the strikes coming.And as pathetic as her self-defense skills were, even had her eyesight been 20/20, she’d have been in a worse state than Leah with her broken fingers.No, here on theMulaPesadawas the safest place for her.
“Computer, resume audiobook.”
‘He’d chosen the crudest words, pushing Naomi too far, but he needed to see what she was made of, to test her boundaries.Grudging admiration engulfed him in warm waves he dismissed with desperate bitterness.There was no finding his partner attractive—he wouldn’t stand for it.’
Tiny picked up the bishop and chuckled.“Oh, it’s too late for you, Gibs.”
He sliced a glance at Naomi.She held her back ramrod straight and had crossed her slender legs at the knees.Her pinched ruby lips announced her foul mood, and he’d caused it.One day, over a beer, he’d explain his reasoning.But he wouldn’t apologize.Not when some sick frack toyed with his career, assigning a rookie to him.
He glared at her while fondling his aching jaw.She had a mean right hook.
Amid laughing, Tiny commanded Computer to pause.That was enough for today.What she needed was a hot, sweet cup of coffee and perhaps an early night curled up in bed while binge-listening to her current space-opera fave.It didn’t take her long to find her room and settle in for the night.
Theysayit’saluxury to awaken without alarms.Did that include pounding?Or was that her head?Tiny gripped her temple and sat up, knocking the half-eaten popcorn onto the floor.A whir preceded the house-cleaning bot, so she dared not put her feet down until the thing was done.
“Tiny.”Someone banged on her door again.
“What?”she snapped.
“It’s your turn to do breakfast,” Trent yelled through the thick metal.
She scrambled to her knees, then froze.“Gimme five.”
“Sure.I’ll stall Nikko.No problem.”
She winced and grabbed the clothes she’d tossed aside.Quick fumbles showed her what she’d picked up, and sniffs told her whether she could wear them one more day before they went into the wash-box.She whipped off her pajamas and shimmied into leggings and a baggy T-shirt.Though notMula Pesadauniform, it would do for now.She’d change after stuffing her stomach and savored one…no, two coffees.When the bot clicked off, she bolted for the boots she left at the door.Sliding into them but not bothering to do them up, she thumped to the mess to start on the morning meal.
Scrambled eggs, toast, sauteed mushrooms, sausages were on the menu.She had the toast on and the sausages sizzling while she beat the eggs into a creamy batter with sprigs of parsley, salt and pepper, and a splash of Moo’s milk.
Dieter had named the poor cow.She tried not to find his sense of humor entertaining.
“He’s never going to see you as someone to date,” she snapped, whipping the eggs with a little more gusto than she usually did.
Her arm throbbed then cramped.She banged the door when she shoved the bowl into the microwave and hit the first button for one minute.Every time it dinged, she stirred the eggs until they were cooked.Turning the sausages, frying the mushrooms, and toasting more slices of bread had to be done with a little more care, lest she burned herself.
“Smells so good,” Grunt said when he strolled past her to the fridge.
“Thanks.”She flashed him a tight smile.
She gripped the counter, drew in a deep breath, then squared her shoulders.With or without Dieter, she’d find her happily-ever-after eventually.Or at least get laid.She huffed at her silly hopes, grabbed the eggs, and slammed the microwave door.
“Whoa, someone’s in a mood,” Trent said, striding in.“Need any help, babe?”
At his sweet offer, she melted, letting her anger fizzle.“I didn’t sleep well,” she lied.
“Too many space operas.What are you listening to?”he asked, sliding along the bench when she placed the sausages onto the table.
“Space Guerillas Attack,” she said, her tone casual.
“Oh, no,” Grunt gasped.“That has forty-two seasons.”
She beamed.“I know.”
“Morning,” Leah growled.
