Page 83 of Warrior's Reign
Why the hell was he working for Loka Vohn, and what did that Aeddannar have to do with the bombing?
After processing the data from the scene, Icolo had recognized the face of the shifter who’d been tasked with trailing Reign the night she’d met her new ‘employer’. Loka hadn’t yet bothered to follow up or actually give her an assignment, proving that that meeting was just a front for something else. But after his little warning and kiss-for-payment, he had to know that she knew his game involved Vykhan and the palace—and Adevega.
The question was, whose side was he on?
They’d abandoned the investigation of the YadFi members present in the crowd to Evvek and his official team, following up on this lead because they were still the only ones who knew about the shifter and Vohn. Well. . .Vykhan knew about Vohn. Interesting that the name hadn’t once come up in official meetings.
Reign watched Vykhan, who watched her watching him, and kept silent. One thing she knew for certain, Vykhan was no traitor and everything he did and didn’t do was to fulfil his duty. So she bode her time, and worked the case her way. And they both tacitly agreed not to step on each other’s toes.
She wondered if this was how his parents managed to work together.
Reign nearly tripped over her own feet, her shoulder smacking into the booth. She slammed her tankard on the table, catching her fall with one hand.
“Shit, sorry. Mind if I shhit a minute? Unshteady on me feet.”
“Bugger off,” the male said, not even glancing at her.
She blinked at him owlishly, and sat hard on the bench. “So ruude. Never mind, friend. I won’t hold it aghainst you.”
He muttered something racially offensive, if she had been Yadeshi. Her skin tint, subtle prosthetic makeup and altered scent must have fooled him.
She waved to a server. This place didn’t run to digital ordering, relying on actual people instead. “Shoup of the day. Bread. More beer.” Reign leaned forward, clasped her unwilling dinner partner on the shoulder. “Get my friend whatever he’ll drink. I’ll even pay.”
:Too easy,: Icolo muttered. :Does he want to get caught?:
He stood, pushing aside his plate of mostly eaten dinner, and stalked away. Reign shrugged, grinning up at the server.
“Guess he didn’t feel like company.”
:Maybe it wass something you said.:
The female left to put in the order. Reign withdrew a slim device and flicked it on. Data displayed on the screen. Her lips curved. The tracker was fully functional.
With a regretful thought to the soup she wouldn’t get to eat, she dug out a credit chit and threw it on the table before making her way back through the crowd, abandoning the drunken pose. No one was paying her any attention, anyway.
The shifter led her to a hostel near one of the minor space hubs. Reign slipped into a darkened alleyway outside of the building, using her device to access schematics of the hostel to locate her quarry’s room. Her wrist unit beeped as Martha fed her the data. She left the alleyway, walking casually around the side of the building, head bopping to the tunes inside her head.
Fortunately, safety codes required a manual access for every floor of the six-story building, two for each floor. Manual meaning stairs. Reign backed up several steps, then ran, pushing into the air with the aid of lunar powered boots designed to store and release kinetic energy at a command. She grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder, and dead lifted herself up, clambering up the ladder until she reached the third floor balcony. The half door meant as an emergency exit wasn’t welded shut, which was great for her. The building was up to code; the ladder hadn’t even squeaked.
Slipping inside the hallway, she scanned back and forth to ensure she was alone and quickly righted herself, slowing to a walk until she was in front of the shifter’s door.
Elhana’s Tits, she hated when a stalk’n’grab was this simple. It always made her shoulders itch, like a trap was about to spring over her head.
Knocking briskly on the door, she called, “Hey, Scooter. What’s taking so long? We’re downstairs waiting for you.”
She pitched the timbre of her voice several octaves higher, giving it a slightly whiny quality. Knocking on the door again, more insistent this time, she slammed her hand against the palm plate as well.
“Scooter! Man, come on. We’re gonna party without you.”
The palm plate flashed red once, twice, and then a third time, emitting a low-level whine that indicated the person attempting entry would be locked out and security notified shortly. The grin on her face was real when the door jerked open.
“Piss off, blueberry,” the shifter snarled, “wrong fucking door.”
He flashed canines, and inhaled reflexively. Reign braced the instant his eyes lit yellow as suspicion clouded his expression.
She slammed her shoulder into the door, swiping out a foot as he moved. He tripped, righting himself and whirling with preternatural speed. Her stunner clipped his shoulder as the kick connected with her wrist. He howled, but the glancing stream was enough to numb his shoulder, the paralyzing affect spreading through his limbs in a matter of seconds.
Reign cursed, gingerly retrieving her stunner as he went down snarling obscenities in his own language.
