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“But I mean it.” Her eyes water again, her shoulders slumping. “I lose everything if I don’t have him.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. We’re taking the case. We’re going to need records of his regular haunts, a financial profile, and anything else you can give us. If he’s using his accounts, he’ll be easy to find. If not, well, we’ll take it from there.”
Rhonda gives me a tiny smile. “Thank you, Bethy. You’re just as kind as I remember.”
Jamef clears his throat by the door, and I’m not sure if he’s trying to hide a laugh or what. “Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. “Pack up your shit, though. You can’t stay here on station.”
“I can’t? Why not?”
“Because you’re coming with us on our ship. That’s safest for all parties and to ensure you don’t get robbed and can’t pay us.” I give her a tight smile. “Don’t worry. We’ve got another human on board. I’m sure you two will be great friends.”
Jamef coughs again, the sound choked.
Seventy-Nine
DORA
I can only stare at the camera feeds for so long before I get bored out of my mind. Jamef and Bethiah probably aren’t coming back for a while, so I make myself busy on the ship. Or at least, I try to. It’s damned boring when it’s just me, though. I clean up the mess hall, and check in on the laundry bots. I remove the brush from the mopping bot and scrub the bases of the walls, hunting for imaginary smudges. I dust. I organize our food supplies. I wipe down the monitors in every single room, remembering how Bethiah licked them.
And when the ship is squeaky clean and I’m still alone, I take a shower and then crawl into bed for a nap. Even the nap isn’t any good, though. Our new bed is huge and sleeping on it alone is no fun. It just reminds me there should be two other bodies in here, pressed up against me. Boo.
Being left behind sucks.
After a restless nap, I make myself noodles in the mess hall, trying not to think too hard about Jamef and Bethiah enjoying a nice dinner on station. Are they having a date night? Do they miss me? Are they thinking about me, even a little?
Before I can sit down with my noodles, I hear one of the outer doors open, and a chime from the computer indicating someone has returned. With a sigh of relief, I jump up, abandoning my noodles, and race down the hall to greet my mates.
Bethiah is the first one through the doors. She winks at me, smiling, and then saunters down the hall. Oh. I guess I don’t get a hug? Or a kiss?
Jamef comes in next, and he’s got a package in his arms. He stops, kissing my brow, and pulls me close. “I’ll explain everything later,” he murmurs. “I promise.”
Huh? I have no idea what he’s talking about at first. Then, he steps aside and a third person comes into the ship after him.
A woman.
A human woman.
An absolutely gorgeous human woman.
What. The. Fuck.
I shoot an incredulous look at Jamef, but he closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if this wasn’t his idea, either. Okay. He said he would explain everything later. I won’t freak out just yet.
But I really want to.
It doesn’t help that the stranger is incredibly beautiful and elegant. She’s taller than me, with a perfect hourglass figure and cleavage that would put a goddess to shame. If I had to guess, she’s about fifteen years older than me, but she wears it well. Her skin is milky white and flawless, as if she’s never seen the sun, and her eyes are a vivid green. Her hair is an intense shade of red, cascading down her shoulders and back, and adorned with looping chains that are studded with jewels. Her gown is equally flowing, equally priceless-looking, and trails behind her as she steps on board, like she’s a princess come to greet her subjects.
So I give the woman a half-hearted greeting. “Hi there. I’m Dora. It’s nice to see another human.”
“Is it?” She arches a perfect red brow in my direction. “We should be commiserating on our bad luck at being stolen, dear. Not being happy about it. The fewer humans I see, the happier it makes me because it means that our people are safe.”
I…don’t know how to answer that. Something tells me that I shouldn’t point out that I’m a clone, and that I wouldn’t be back on Earth anyhow. That I wouldn’t exist if Dora-the-original hadn’t been chopped up into itty bitty pieces to be cloned out of. I’m selfishly glad she was, because it means I live. But…yeah. I’m not telling this stranger any of that. Not with that judgy look on her face.
She peels a delicate glove off of one hand, and then the other, and they shimmer with color as she does. Pretty. Everything about her is pretty, actually. I can’t see a single pore, or a stray eyebrow hair. Her mane is smooth and glossy, her lips perfect. It’s downright intimidating.
