Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
The ride back to the Lucky Sevens was the most uncomfortable Connor could recall in years. Selen spent the entire trip hunched over, focused on scraping her thumbnails with her index fingernails.
Connor felt like he was slowly cooking on the seat beside her.
What was he supposed to do? The terms of the job were better than his wildest dream. They were getting off Mara. All of their expenses were being paid. Whatever salary they claimed for the team was covered, with a fifty percent bonus.
Yet accepting the deal was somehow wrong.
He could still recall the dancers who’d drawn Mosiah’s attention—the curves of their bodies undulating to the rhythm of the music and the sweet, almost candy-like perfumes that spoke of their age.
Their absence left the air car’s pampering luxuries hollow.
A prisoner of regrets. Hadn’t that been Mosiah’s phrase?
Something like that.
Maybe he’d left a young woman behind to pursue something stupid and idealistic, just like Connor. Or maybe the allure had been money. The old man seemed to have plenty to spare.
The vehicle came to a stop in front of their ship, and Connor hopped out, welcoming the constant groans and creaks that came from even long-anchored ships. He welcomed the sharp chemical smell of lubricants and cleaning agents and leaking fuel.
Selen climbed out more slowly. She waited for the air car to speed away, then sighed. “Get the ship ready.”
Connor wanted to follow her up the ramp, to ask her what was wrong.
He waited, licking the remnants of citrusy beer from his lips.
Would he be an old man one day, sitting in a club, finding the appeal of young women not just an unattainable desire but a reminder of a life gone awry?
Toshiko. He had to call Toshiko. He had to make the promise to return to her when this mission ended.
The pocket computer buzzed when he brought it up to open the communications app.
It was Toshiko.
He tapped the accept button. “I was just getting ready to call you.”
Her face was creased with anxious wrinkles; her mouth twisted down in a frown. “Listen to me.”
“I’m listening. Did you hear—”
“Listen! The Security Headquarters in Sang put in a request for—”
“They put in a request for a lockdown. I know. We’ve been trying to launch for a while, but Selen wouldn’t accept this Mosiah job.”
“You’re talking. You can’t listen and talk at the same time.”
“Sorry.”
Toshiko leaned closer to her computer camera. “That lockdown request? The headquarters in Louden approved it.”
Connor’s heart sank. “So fast?”
“Everybody wants you.”
“Dead or alive.”
Someone whistled behind him. He spun around.
Ghostly light from the cargo bay reflected off Gregor’s bare scalp. “This thing we talked about before? The headquarters request? It has been approved.”
Connor pointed to the glowing pocket computer. “I just heard.”
“Yes, well, in an hour, this place? It will be locked down. To get this approval through the channels? To get everyone in place? The time to leave is now.”
“Tell Selen. Tell everyone we need to priority order supplies. And get everyone who went out to party back now. We’re launching in forty-five minutes.”
“Priority? The money for this, we have such a thing?”
“We do. Hurry.”
Gregor grunted, but he retreated back into the cargo hold, out of sight.
Toshiko scowled from the computer screen. “Are you done?”
“Sorry.” At that moment, Connor wished he could just walk away from the failing ship and the team that seemed ready to tear itself apart and his sullen boss. He wished he could go to Toshiko and start a new life.
It would have to wait. He had obligations now.
The computer expert choked up, then she looked away for a second and sucked in a deep breath. She was in a room somewhere, he realized, not in an alleyway. But it was dark, maybe lit only by the glow of her pocket computer.
That was too dangerous. She needed someone to protect her from…
He was making excuses, convincing himself that he was right to abandon his commitments for her.
She looked back at him. “I can’t stay connected too long.”
“I know. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“You’re the one who has to be careful. I looked into this Mosiah guy.”
“Oh.” Connor had forgotten he’d even asked her to.
“He’s dangerous. He has connections everywhere.”
Heavy stomping boomed from the ramp top: Vicente. His customary swagger was back, the sway of his thick, rounded shoulders announcing to the universe that everything was going his way again. Yemi trailed behind, followed by Rudy. They pushed cargo carts that floated centimeters above the ground on an anti-gravitic field.
Cargo was coming. Good.
Maybe they would get lucky and find an engineer in time.
Connor hurried away from the people gathering at the base of the ramp. He needed privacy, even if just for a minute more. “What about this guy’s history? Do you know why he’s hiring us? He hired Selen a long time ago. She hates him.”
“I still have some queries running. His records are protected.”
“Protected?”
Toshiko rolled her eyes. “I told you he’s connected.”
“Yeah, but that’s…that’s really connected.”
“You can’t take this job. I have a terrible feeling about it.”
“I’ll watch this guy. I promise.”
She kissed her camera, then disconnected.
Pain dug deep into his chest. How had he ever left her? She was the one who was special in the universe, not him.
Behind him, Rudy barked at the others. “Incoming deliveries! Get your carts lined up! We do this in an orderly, sharp fashion. No cutting corners!”
It was the drill sergeant, the professional soldier, the veteran of so many engagements—everything the team needed at that exact moment.
But would it be enough to get them through what was ahead?
This Mosiah was trouble. Connor didn’t know the exact nature of the trouble, but it was taking shape now.
The guy had cost Selen teammates. He’d done things he regretted.
And he had connections with enough power to protect him.
Dangerous.
Connor jogged back to join the others at the bottom of the ramp and caught someone watching them all from the cargo bay entrance.
Selen. Her eyes looked almost black in the ghostly light.
He followed where she was looking and saw a vehicle speeding toward the Lucky Sevens.
Mosiah? He’d said he wouldn’t be long.
No. This was a cheap rental, like the one Selen had hired but wheeled.
It skidded to a stop at the edge of the lights coming from the ramp, and the driver jumped out.
Small. Slender. Female.
She slung a duffel bag over her shoulder and—head and shoulders hunched down—shuffled toward the ramp.