Page 114 of Smuggler's Beauty

“I’m sure she will jump at the chance,” he said. “She’s been enjoying working with you.”

Evelyn nodded. His heart swelled when she started fiddling with the buttons of his shirt as she worked out her next words.

No direct eye contact, leading questions, jokes. Repeat until she feels better.

“I’ve been assuming that we will be successful,” she said.

“A very reassuring place to start,” Aiden said.

“Seems pointless to assume otherwise at this point. If we fail tomorrow, it means we die.”

“Yeah, I don’t like that assumption. Best not to linger there.”

“Indeed,” she said. “So I’ve been thinking about what happens after.”

“And?”

“I think I’m going to need some help, if you’re up for it.”

Aiden smiled. As if he wouldn’t follow this woman to the ends of the known universe. He kissed the top of her head.

“Tell me your vision, and we’ll make it happen. It’s my specialty.”

Evelyn told him the plan she’d worked out in the shower. She was tentative at first, talking around her idea. Aiden kept asking questions, mining her for details. The more she spoke, the more he heard her conviction in her own plans grow.

It would take a long time, she warned.

Aiden assured her that he had time. He had a flexible schedule, he pointed out, and very understanding bosses. He didn’t add that his plans for the foreseeable future amounted to attaching himself to her like a barnacle. Felt clingy. He was trying to balance being as obvious as he could with his affections and intentions while not smothering her, as she very clearly did not want to talk aboutthingsyet.

It would be a lot of work, but she believed that in the end it would be worth it.

He agreed. It would be worth it to make sure Evelyn’s dreams came true.

“I’ve got you, dollface.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Evelyn tooka deep breath as she buckled herself into the jump ship safety restraints. She was dressed in the warrior princess get up again, braided hair sprayed into submission, makeup shellacked to her skin. Veronique had used so much setting medium that Evelyn wasn’t sure how many passes with the removal gunk she’d have to make tonight to get it off, but she knew it wouldn’t smudge.

She settled into the seat and took the blaster Nannette handed her. It slid neatly into the pocket of her dress, the small weapon not marring the A-line of the skirt. Invisible reassurance in the palm of her hand. Nannette settled into the seat next to her and started twisting her hair into a knot Evelyn wouldn’t have been able to accomplish with three mirrors and as many hours to master it.

Veronique had applied something to Nannette’s nose, building up the bridge and hiding the normally upturned tilt. It was a subtle difference, but they believed it would be enough to obscure facial recognition software from identifying her.

Veselko carted the recording equipment onto the jump ship. Tariel had knocked up press credentials for him to displayprominently around his neck. Veronique had applied a wash to his hair and goatee, and the normally dark locks shone the color of polished brass.

Aiden had received a similar treatment; his brown hair now tinged a warm orangey shade. He was still handsome as a ginger in Evelyn’s estimation.

Beneath their jackets, they were armed to the teeth, blasters and spare chargers and knives in every nook and cranny. Nannette and Elenor were the only visible security that Evelyn was bringing with her to the Senate building. They were dressed in sleek black suits, plum cravats at their necks to tie them to Evelyn’s styling.

They didn’t look half bad.

Cairn and Veronique were in the pilot seats of the jump ship, setting the navigation. They were taking the unconventional — and highly illegal — approach of landing unannounced, directly in the main square of Randelie. They’d complete the faster-than-light jump hovering twenty feet in the air, and the resulting descent would have to be enough time for anyone lingering in the park to get the hell out of the way.

The approach required a lot of complicated maths that made Evelyn’s head hurt. With Corvinia’s chaos in full effect on the ground, intergalactic traffic monitoring would be the least of their worries. Sneaking past anyone left searching for rogue ships would be much easier today than trying to fight their way out of a spaceport, let alone one in a “transitionary management period.”

“May as well be splashy, lass,” Cairn had said when he’d tried to explain it to her earlier.

“Is it the best move to break a bunch of galactic transportation laws on the way to assert my legal claim? Isn’t that a mixed message?”