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Maybe the fear kicked up some adrenaline in my veins, but there was something more to it than that.
Could my life be something more than running errands for Conii, waiting on eggshells for her temper to explode, for her to sell my contract to a terrible place?
My books, my dreams of Sherlock Holmes were my desperate attempt to have any meaning in my life.
Could I really get the information that could save an innocent man?
Tazhr seemed to think I could. It was nice knowing that somehow he picked me for the job. I wasn’t sure why, but I almost wanted to prove to him that I could take her down and wanted to, just as much as he did.
Once out of the marketplace and down near Conii’s quarters, I sighed and looked at my percomm.
It was time to get some information.
First, I took the groceries to the kitchen, unpacking them while the chef chatted away with his line chefs. I remember being shocked when I found out she had ten kitchen staff working for her in total. I guess when you have billions of credits from scamming and framing other beings, you can afford whatever you want.
Leaving the kitchen, I glanced around the hallways for any sign of movement. I checked my percomm again. Six thirty. She definitely wouldn’t be in the office.
But would there be guards or not? I never paid attention to their schedule before. Was it a regular pattern? Were there only guards when she was in there, or only when she was out?
Time to learn.
I made my way to the stairs, hoisting my bag over my shoulder with the book in it. I hoped the pages wouldn’t fray or the spine wouldn’t bend as I rounded the corner to her office. Four guards stood at the door, and as one they all turned to look at me.
Shit.
“What business do you have here, girl?” one of them asked, stepping toward me.
“I-” I cleared my throat. “I was just looking for Conii.”
“She’s busy,” a second one responded quickly.
“I just needed to-”
“Needed to leave.” The first guard spoke, leaning forward even closer.
I pursed my lips. I was unsure what type of penalty being a sort of double agent carried in the Nazok gang, but I didn’t want to find out, either.
“Thank you,” I replied quietly before walking in the other direction. Sherlock Holmes couldn’t make bricks without clay, and I couldn’t get into Conii’s office without learning the schedule of her guards.
“Emma!” the chef bellowed from downstairs.
I closed my eyes and threw my head back, looking at the ceiling.Now what?
“Yes?”
“You got the wrong type of peppers!”
I exhaled through my nose and cracked my neck. I forced a smile and walked down the stairs. “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” I chimed. “What would you like me to do?”
He knew I was being cheeky, but luckily he never faulted me for it. Part of me always wondered if he was just as miserable as I was.
“Go get the right ones.” The chef walked out of the kitchen, holding the pepper in his hand. “These are Tortens. I need Yirrups.”
“Yirrups…” I squinted at the pepper, racking my brain for alien equivalents of human peppers. “Oh!” My face lit up. “The super spicy ones?”
He rolled his eyes and tossed the pepper at me. I barely caught it, and my bag almost took me down as it swung over my shoulder. “Yes, the super spicy ones. Now go. Leave your bag.”
Leave my bag? What if they find the book?
