“This is your ship?” The disgust in his voice irritated her. Yeah, the Barony Bitch was ugly but it was all she’d been able to afford after losing all her assets. And the ship was fast and dangerous. Just like Sal.
“I just thought she’d be prettier. Like her captain.”
Sal resisted the urge to shove him up against the bulkhead and beat some manners into him. “That’s fucking patronizing. What kind of idiot judges on looks alone?”
“The kind of idiot who will pay a stranger anything she wants for safe passage?”
He has a point.
“She’s faster than she looks,” Sal muttered as they walked up the entry ramp and boarded.
“Like her owner. Tell me, do you always draw first? You’ve never thought about conversation?”
“I find that guns are a simpler solution. Cuts out a lot of unnecessary small talk.” Sal put emphasis on the last couple of words in the hope he’d take the hint.
“So I guess sparkling conversation is off the menu for our trip.”
“Yep. Other than about what you’re paying me.” They reached the control deck and Sal slid into the pilot’s seat with a sigh. It would be good to get out into the quiet emptiness of space.
Her passenger took the spare seat. “Like I said, name your price. You saved my neck, and I kinda value that.”
Sal eyed him up. He was well dressed in leatherine leggings, a pale cream shirt down to mid hip and a long jacket in a mid-weight black fabric. None of it brand new, but not worn or dirty. The leather boots covering his lower legs to his knees had some wear, so either he wore them all the time or he walked a lot. His physique said walking, being as he had none of the flabbiness from soft living. If she was honest, he was kind of on the skinny side for her tastes. She preferred her men broad and packed with muscle, and her women full bodied with generous curves. His accent and attitude said money. His smooth face said laser treatment or a daily de-follicle wash. No scent enhancers, but he didn’t stink either. No calluses or scarring on his hands, so combat or hard manual labor were unlikely. She didn’t much like the fact he’d still kept his shades up. How much to ask for?
|A Space Opera Short Story|
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Sal, a legal carrier (just about) of whatever comes her way, puts her trust in just two things: her guns.
Keeping out from under Imperium eyes—especially those belonging to a certain Ehi Wahu—while making a living, and trying to keep a lover who can tolerate her twitchy trigger fingers, are the extent of her ambitions.
Then a kiss from a passing stranger, and a promise of the biggest score in a long time, tempt her. Devin fulfils more than one need, but he comes with more trouble than one woman can handle. And this time it'll take more than her guns to save her. She'll have to trust a man again.
Quickshot releases in just two days. Woot! In the meantime, I'm taking a nice break with my monsters and hopefully catching up on my TBR pile. See you in two weeks!