Later in bed, when she entwined her legs around his and dozed, he wondered if he’d made a mistake, whether she was really capable of holding her own in such a daring mission.
Chapter Nine
Jade perched on the barstool and waited with one hand holding a tumbler of juice and the other stuffed in her jacket pocket out of sight. She fingered the little device, praying it would work.
Across the room, lounging in a comfy seat was Mason. He’d transformed himself from marshal into a gangster. Gone were the neat hairline, the shiny boots, and pressed clothes; he’d camouflaged himself and gone undercover in style by wearing a trench coat, a black t-shirt with a silver skull embossed onto it, and studded boots.
She struggled not to stare at him by locking onto the glass. Now and again, she glanced in his direction. Somehow, he managed to stay sexy and mean. Some of the girls behind the bar were equally intrigued. They nudged each other, pointing at him, whispering and snickering. He didn’t flicker his eyes in their direction or acknowledge them.
The men who loitered around the bar showed no interest in the newcomer. People came and went on space stations, especially this one where there were no enforcers. Omega was a lawless domain, forgotten by the Federation, and heavily utilized by criminals.
It was a dangerous hideaway—she understood Mason’s reticence for letting her join him. There was no safe place to run to and certainly no friends to make. She had to focus on the job. Mason was happy to attract attention, because it kept any eyes off her. However, she would eventually draw someone’s eye—it was the nature of the place.
The bar was one of many, but according to Teesha, whom Mason had covertly contacted, it was Curtis’s favorite.
The dim lighting projected faint beams onto the drab walls and there were pockets of near darkness in the corners and behind partitions. Plenty of places to disappear and it was into those spots the girls took the men. Jade heard grunts, panting, and other sounds indicative of urgent, base fucking. She’d not anticipated the public arena or the lack of shame.
A girl approached Mason and he waved her away. Time was passing and still no sign of the cyborg.
It was Jade’s turn to attract unwanted attention.
“Hi, babe. Looking lonesome and cute.” The man had an eye patch and a heavy accent, which Jade couldn’t identify. “Can go over there, if you like?” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at one of the dark recesses in the corner.
“I’m fine, no thanks,” she hissed. Her heart was already beating too fast and the glass in her hand was in danger of slipping out of her fingers if she didn’t stop shaking.
“Sure, ‘cos if you just want to suck it,” he smirked and grabbed his crotch, “it’s fine by me.”
The repulsive man, with half his teeth missing and a crooked smile, wouldn’t back off. What she’d done with Mason two days ago was unthinkable with the stranger.
“Please, you’re not my type. J
ust… fuck off.” She raised her voice, because over on the other side of the room, Mason was on the verge of standing up. She had to show him she was in control. “I’m waiting for somebody. Nyle Curtis?”
The man’s face went pale. “Oh, right, sorry.” He edged backward. “Didn’t know you were his chick.” As he stumbled on a stool, the color drained out of his weathered complexion. He wasn’t looking at her any longer, but at somebody behind him.
Around the bar, everyone fell silent and seemed to be looking at her, but they weren’t. There was somebody right behind her, almost breathing down her neck.
“I told you, cretin, to keep your hands off the girls.” The voice was low, almost a growl and fearsome.
“Sorry, Curtis,” mumbled the man with the broken teeth and missing eye. He darted away, nearly colliding with one of the bar girls.
“What do you say to the man who saved you from that creep?” Curtis rumbled in her ear.
Jade had frozen. She’d not expected Curtis to single her out. Her mouth had gone suddenly parched. “Thank you, I guess.”
“You guessed right, girl.” He moved around and his shadow fell over her as he blocked out the lights and her view of Mason.
Mason was right in his description—somebody had taken a man and turned him into a beast made of metal. Curtis made no attempt to hide his robotic arms and legs—he wore a sleeveless vest, latex pants, which accentuated the steel framework, and massive boots. The cyborg mimicked the correct anatomy of a man with elbows and knee joints, the skeletal properties of a humanoid, but that was as far as the similarities went. The skin covering the limbs was red and tattooed with gruesome images, the flesh underneath was sinewy and filled out with bulky muscles to such an extent that his legs were like mammoth trunks. When he folded his arms across his broad chest, the uncovered biceps rippled and the artificial veins rose to the surface forming a network of lines.
Jade reminded herself that none of it was real. The flesh wasn’t his, it had been grown in a laboratory and he wore it like armor. It was armor, according to Mason, skin-like in its appearance but able to withstand blasts and lasers.
She dragged her eye line upward, taking in the bulldog neck and square jaw. His lips were pressed tightly shut, his nose flattened by numerous blows and his cheeks peppered with scars. He had violet eyes, probably iris implants, and they’d fixated on the rise and fall of her bust.
“You’ve nearly finished that drink. Let me get you another. You’re shaking.” He snapped his fingers at the barman, who leapt into action. “Did that bastard scare you?” He spoke softly. “Because he shouldn’t scare pretty girls.”
Jade couldn’t think what to say. His apparent gentleness surprised her. Did she play along, or brush him off? She decided the latter was far too dangerous. She still had her hand in the jacket pocket and the device was cupped in her hand, ready to be activated. He was close, so close it increased the odds of the plan working.
“Thank you,” she managed to say, although her voice was scratchy and weak. She cleared her throat and strengthened her voice. “I’m not scared.”