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Kef. He must have scanned me as I approached. I keep a confident smile on my face and try to shoo him aside like I would a bug. “That’s right. I’m meeting someone.”
“May I ask who?”
I pretend to be offended. “No, you may not. It’s a private matter.”
He continues to stand in front. “Then I’m afraid you cannot enter the elevator.”
“I’m meeting an old friend.”
“That may be, but you might be more comfortable meeting your friend in a cantina. Or at a hotel that charges for partial evenings.” The look he gives me is meaningful.
Kef me, he thinks I’m an escort. I want to burst out laughing, but that will ruin the disguise. I draw my shoulders up and stand as tall and proud as I can, deciding to try pushiness instead. “If you don’t let me on this elevator this instant, you are going to regret it.”
“If you don’t turn around right now, I’m going to pick you up and toss you out of here,” he says, getting in my face.
Jamef immediately steps forward, a low growl in his throat.
Oh, kef. Normally I’d be thrilled to have Jamef brawl with security because then I could slip my way past, but with him not seeming like himself, I don’t want him doing anything that injure him. “You know what? We’ll come back later,” I say, grabbing Jamef by his sleeve and hauling him after me. “Thanks again!”
Jamef is silent as we hurry back through the lobby, and I pause by the aquarium, noticing that there’s a hitch in his step. Is it his leg that’s bothering him? Before I can ask, Jamef jerks out of my grip. “If I’m not supposed to be your bodyguard, why am I here?”
“Don’t be so fussy,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest and pretending to scan the room. “We’re not giving up. We’re just regrouping. How are you feeling?”
He bares his teeth at me. “Annoyed.”
Well now, that makes two of us, especially since he doesn’t want to tell me what’s going on with him. We can go back to the ship and orbit until Lord Nerit leaves and try to catch him then, but that means staying here and that means keeping Rhonda for longer.
That’s not going to work. We need a new plan.
I watch as an elegantly dressed male and his companion head towards the bar, and a new idea hits me. “I know what we can do to get in.”
“What’s that?”
I grin at Jamef. “Our friend at the elevator thought I was an escort. Maybe I pretend to be one and get myself a date at the bar —”
“No.” Jamef gives me the most surly, displeased look I’ve ever seen on his face, and I’ve imprisoned the male multiple times and stolen his ship. “Absolutely not.”
“It’ll work. I’ll go flirt with someone and give him my rates, and then we head up to his rooms —”
“Still no.”
“And then once we’re up a few floors, we ditch our date and go find our bounty —”
“Absolutely not, Bethiah.” His jaw is so tight it looks as if it could snap off.
I tap a finger on my chin. “How many credits do you think a sex worker asks for in this joint?”
“Are you not hearing me? I said no.” Jamef tries to step in front of me, but I go around him. “Bethiah, you’re not listening —”
“I suppose I can just go with a cheap price,” I tell him cheerfully, working my way past him and the aquarium and turning towards the bar. “An escort with a sale going on is sure to get some business, right?”
“This is the worst idea in a long line of your bad ideas,” he snarls after me.
“The worst idea so far,” I correct, and adjust my cleavage. Time to go get myself a john.
One Hundred Twelve
JAMEF
My bad leg is buzzing—or a circuit is sizzling—and sending unpleasant pings up my thigh. I’m not sure if that’s worse than the scene I see unfolding at the bar, though.
Bethiah sits with a pricey cocktail in front of her, a pink smoke pouring forth from the globules in her delicate glass. She ignores it, preferring to flirt with the elderly praxiian male that purchased the drink for her. He rubs his tail deliberately against hers and it makes me want to get up from my seat across the room and beat his whiskered face to a pulp.
I know this is part of her plan, but it wasn’t my plan and I didn’t like it. I still don’t like it. Bethiah might think she can do as she pleases to get the job done, but things are different now that we’re a triad, and when we get back to the ship, I’m going to give her a piece of my mind.
“You’re so funny!” Bethiah coos loudly, reaching over and brushing her hand down the praxiian’s golden-furred arm. His tail tries to brush against hers once more, but Bethiah neatly maneuvers hers away from his jewelry-encrusted one.
