Page 13 of Havik: Warlord Brides
“How hard are you planning to work me?” Havik asked.
“I have plenty of heavy things for you to carry. Don’t worry.”
“I have skills.”
“Shh.” Ren leaned forward, placing a finger over Havik’s lips. “You’re the pilot. I just need you to clean out the ship, buy all the supplies and fuel, carry all the heavy items, and fly.”
“And it may fall apart when we leave the atmosphere,” Havik said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. You’re a terrible pilot.”
“We’ll probably die in this heap,” Havik said, unable to suppress his grin.
“Which would be no less than we deserve,” Ren said, returning the grin with one of his own.
Thalia
Cold rain soaked through her hoodie as Thalia hustled down the street, avoiding the streetlights. She could get enough cash to get herself somewhere. Gut instinct told her to get on the first bus out of town and not to care where it headed. She wouldn’t stay long, just long enough to get another ticket and keep on moving. If she chose randomly, Nicky wouldn’t be able to track her. Right?
Unless he expected her to hop on the first available bus and he got a list of all the routes that night. It might be smarter to sit tight for a day and then leave.
Doc’s old suggestion rattled around her head. She should volunteer to be matched to a Mahdfel alien. Nicky thought he was a big fish in a pond. Terrifying from Thalia’s little fish perspective.
Maybe just get out of the pond.
Boom. Problem solved. She would have a big scary alien to protect and cherish her. The TV dramas and romance novels made it seem so nice. She could do with a bit of cherishing.
Nicky wouldn’t expect that. He mistrusted the aliens and stayed clear of them. He didn’t know about the romance books Thalia read about Mahdfel heroes or the shows she watched with hot alien actors. She kept all of that limited to the privacy of her room.
Yes. Get a Mahdfel. Solid plan.
Thalia cut through between narrow houses, the space just wide enough to wheel a trash can. Down the alley, she skirted puddles and found the spot. She pounded on the door, peeling paint crumbling under her fist. “Let me in. It’s freezing out here.”
The door inched open. “Go away.”
“Come on. I got stuff you like,” she cajoled.
“Stuff you stole?”
“Surplus. It’s good, too. Barely past the expiration date.” Probably. Thalia didn’t check the labels too carefully before she liberated the pills.
The door opened wider. The glow from an old-fashioned flat panel TV framed a short woman with iron-gray hair. “Does Nicky know you’re stealing from him?”
Thalia shrugged her shoulders. “He doesn’t pay me anything but room and board, so he’d be pretty dumb if he didn’t know.”
“He’s too controlling. He gets what he deserves.” Joyce, a retired pharmacist and current dealer in medical and recreational pharmaceuticals, stepped to one side, allowing Thalia to squeeze by.
Grateful for the warmth, Thalia stripped off her damp hoodie and draped it over a radiator. Her backpack rattled as it hit the floor. Joyce puttered about in the kitchen and brought out two cups of herbal tea. Thalia didn’t care for it, but she accepted the cup with a thin smile. Can’t be rude to your best buyer.
“Drink your tea. You look frozen through. Now, let’s see what you brought me,” Joyce said, emptying the contents of the bag onto the table. Her arthritic hands picked over the bottles, and she slipped on her glasses and read the labels closely. Occasionally she opened the cap to peer inside. “Oh, this is too much, girlie. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.” Technically correct, which was the best kind of correct.
“No. This isn’t your normal pocket money. This is your get-out-town stash.” Joyce peered at her over the rim of her glasses, her eyes a watery blue.
Fuck. She couldn’t lie to an old lady. It was simply wrong.
“Maybe?”
