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Ezra just rolls his eyes. “Humans,” he says, but in a way that’s sad, in a way that makes me think he feels sorry for us.
“So anyway,” I continue, trying to get back to what I was saying before I pussy out. There’s a chance I’m going to stop talking because opening up makes me scared and uncomfortable. There’s no reason that it should, yet it does. Perhaps it’s because I’ve never had many close friends or maybe it’s because my parents died when I was a teenager.
Either way, telling Ezra my problems is scary for me.
“Take your time, Dagger,” Ezra reminds me. This time, when he moves his hand, he settles it on my waist. The touch is intimate and familiar, but I’m comfortable with it. I like it. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and keep going.
“I worked for them for several years. My parents died when I was a teenager and I didn’t really have any money or very many options. I lived with some friends for awhile, but then I had to go get a job. I worked at several places before I realized I could be a nanny. I thought it would be a good job because housing is provided.”
“You lived with the family?”
“Yes. I had my own bedroom. I took care of the children all day, every day. Then, when they were in bed for the night, I could go to sleep in my own room.”
“It sounds like you were overworked,” Ezra murmurs. “You didn’t get a day to yourself?”
“Sometimes,” I admit. “When they went on vacation or had a special event they didn’t want their employees going to. Those days were really nice. I could just relax and read or watch movies.”
“You should have gotten more time off,” Ezra shakes his head. “Such a hard worker for such a tiny human.”
His words bring me more comfort than they should because I feel like Ezra truly understands me. He’s only known me a short time, but he gets me.
“Well, one night, a few days ago, I couldn’t sleep. I got up and was going to go to the kitchen to get some water.”
This is the part that’s hard to spit out.
This is the part that’s going to get me killed.
If I tell Ezra, there’s a chance they’ll kill him, too.
Then again, maybe they’ll kill him anyway, just for helping me.
“And that’s when I saw Martin Stremon with Mrs. Finkle. They were planning to murder her husband, and they caught me listening.”
Chapter 7
Ezra
Dagger is a quiet thing, but she’s strong. I can understand how people would underestimate her at first glance. She looks frail and tiny, but she has an inner-strength most people could only dream of possessing.
So her boss decided to talk with someone about getting rid of her husband. That’s not uncommon. Even on Sapphira, murder happens. Evil lurks everywhere and it doesn’t care what species you are, what color your skin is, or what planet you’re from. It only cares that you’re a willing vessel.
“Why do they want to kill her husband, Dagger?” Surely, the rich woman is only after more money. Of course, power is always another motivating factor.
“Martin Stremon is a bounty hunter and her lover,” Dagger explains. “I’ve known about their affair for awhile. They didn’t know I knew. I kept it a secret and pretended not to know because if they found out I was aware of their relationship, they would have me killed.”
“This sounds extreme.”
“They have a flair for the dramatic.”
I cock my head for what seems like the millionth time. I’m tired of the Earth slang. She reminds me of my brother, Quinn. He’s always repeating things we heard on television when we were children. We spent so much time watching movies and Earth reruns that I should have all of this lingo memorized, but I don’t.
Somehow, it didn’t stick for me, and hearing Dagger repeat these phrases is both endearing and confusing.
If she notices I’m struggling to follow along, she doesn’t stop to explain. She just keeps talking.
“Martin wants Mr. Finkle’s job,” Dagger explains. “He’s on a committee that deals with transport. Right now, the laws for importing goods to Mars are very restrictive. Martin wants to change all of that.”
“Why? Import laws are an important method of making sure a planet’s economy stays balanced.”
