Page 8 of Pulled By the Tail
Talen ran a hand through his hair, unconcerned about making a mess of it. His hair refused to cooperate, always appeared tousled. He had started to wonder what he had to say or do to get thrown out of the private room. Smash furniture, perhaps. Marks like Lerrence usually had a pricklier disposition. The first insult, and they tossed Talen out on his tail. That was one advantage of size: no one wanted to see him angry.
He sauntered up to the nearest bar and ordered water. The next bit required a clear head.
He didn’t know what Quil saw in Lerrence’s parcel of Corra, but his brother wouldn’t let an opportunity pass him by. They had encountered Lerrence before and knew enough about the male to know he played a decent hand but had a cocky attitude. Talen played a solid if unremarkable hand and won consistently enough to barely notice. That was the second advantage of size: no one ever suspected Talen of being more than dumb muscle.
Quil, however, was all flash. He lost in spectacular fashion, always paid his debt, and got invited to the exclusive tables. Once the marks—and to be honest, Quil always knew who could afford to lose the most—were well and truly comfortable, all but ignoring the poor sucker losing a fortune while gloating and congratulating themselves, Quil would place an impossible wager.
Why not take the fool’s money? Or his ship? Or anything else he owns in the universe?
Quil won. He always won. Talen played the furious brother, upset at the gambling losses, and used his bulk to create a distraction. With attention diverted elsewhere, Quil cheated.
No one should be surprised, least of all the people at the table with Quil. They were all cheats. Stations like this one, Noxu, were tax dodges for the ultra-rich, so that was the first cheat there. The same tax-evading ultra-rich snobs avoided rebuilding their homeworld, instead chasing pleasures in a floating palace. Their lifestyles cost a fortune and only the smallest percentage ever funneled back to planetside. Moreover, Corra could not afford to police Noxu, instead relying on private security to keep the peace.
Stations like Noxu were fiefdoms, ruled by kings and aristocrats. There was no justice for the everyday person. Crimes committed by the wealthy were swept away but crimes against them—mostly theft—were pursued to the point of obsession. Stories of a maid caught with stolen jewels or a footman caught in bed with an heiress filled the news cycle.
Talen did not worry about Lerrence crying to the media once he realized he’d been conned. The brothers counted on embarrassment to keep him silent. Lerrence would be more likely to sic his private security on them. Talen’s biggest worry was making it to the ship and warming up the engines for a quick exit.
He had a book, a murder mystery, waiting in his bunk. The story just got to the good part and he had his suspicions as to the identity of the murderer. The family had secrets and secrets always clawed their way out of darkness into the light.
He felt a heavy blow connect with his shoulder before that person hooked their arm into his elbow and took off at a run.
“What are you still doing here?” Quil’s eyes had a manic gleam to them.
Talen didn’t ask if there was trouble. The brothers wouldn’t be running for any other reason. They dashed through the crowd, nimbly avoiding security by ducking behind a row of slot machines. The bright lights and constant noise provided enough cover for Talen to weave his way across the casino floor and reach the exit.
The concourse left them too open. Talen ducked into a service corridor that ran behind the shops and would bring them nearly to their ship.
“I never thought I’d be glad you memorized the station’s layout,” Quil said.
“Always have an exit strategy.” Talen knew his elder brother often acted first and worried about the consequences after, which was why he took it upon himself to over-prepare.
The ship’s engines were already online when the brothers arrived. A four-armed copper-skinned male moved from the pilot’s seat.
“You moved my settings,” Talen complained, taking the chair from Charl. He disliked the distance of the chair from the console, as Charl always moved it back due to his freakishly long arms. He’d have to fiddle with the seat before it felt correct again.
“I did not,” Charl said, dropping into the co-pilot’s seat. As the ship’s engineer, the male rarely sat in the cockpit, let alone the pilot’s seat. “Security put out an alert for two Tal males, so I thought you’d appreciate a quick exit.”
Talen grumbled, unwilling to admit the male was correct.
“The alert described the males as particularly handsome, yes? That’s how you knew it was us,” Quil said, taking the third seat. Technically, the seat was for the weapons specialist, but they rarely had reason to use the ship’s weapons.
Charl snorted, two hands fastening the safety harness and the other two punching in a destination. “The usual?”
“Yes,” Talen said at the exact moment his brother saidno. “Let’s get out of here first, before they lock the docking clamps.” The engines whined and the ship slid gracefully away from the dock.
Then lurched to a stop.
“Too late,” Charl said.
“Did the alert use our names? How did they identify us?” Talen spun his chair to face his brother. “You didn’t use our real names, did you?”
“Of course I did. Couldn’t have the deed made out to someone who doesn’t exist.”
“Quil,” he growled in frustration. That was so typical of his brother.
“Relax. It’s not like I used our real-real names.”
His claws itched and burned, yearning to break free and dig into his stupid brother’s stupid face. They couldn’t afford to lose time fighting but it would only take a moment to scratch that cocky expression off Quil’s face and make him bleed—
