Starfall (Starflight #2)(4)
Still facing away, she told them, “Let’s make a deal. You guys stack the crates, and then you can leave. I’ll see the pallet to town and collect payment.”
“But don’t you need the shuttle for that?” Solara asked.
“No. The warehouse is sending a hovercraft to tow everything in. I’ll ride with them and walk back here when I’m done. It’s not far.”
There was a long beat of silence. Then Kane said, “I don’t know. Maybe we should stay together.”
For some strange reason, his words caused a sharp ache in the spot directly behind Cassia’s breastbone. She whirled on him, seeing nothing but a blond blur through the moisture welling in her eyes. She didn’t know what had possessed her, but she’d roll naked in a thorn bush before letting Kane see her cry.
“It’s just a cargo drop,” she snapped, charging into the hold and skirting around him. “I don’t need you for that.” As she continued up the stairs, she called over her shoulder, “I don’t need you for anything.”
An hour later, she was sitting on the edge of a wheeled pallet, watching the Banshee’s shuttle fade into the atmosphere. Once the shuttle vanished from sight, she sighed and rested her head against a crate of grain as a wheezing hovercraft towed her across the field toward Main Street.
“Sure you don’t want to ride up here?” shouted the hovercraft pilot, a smiling boy who filled out his coveralls with the broad shoulders of a grown man. There was a hint of mischief in his eyes, the kind that promised a good time with no strings attached. But she wasn’t in the mood for company.
“No thanks.”
Once they reached the warehouse, Cassia hopped down and went in search of the foreman, who pointed her in the direction of the finance officer. A few electronic signatures later, full payment was transferred to the Banshee’s account, and Cassia found herself with twenty-four hours of shore leave on her hands—usually a good problem to have. This time she didn’t know what to do with herself.
She turned her gaze to the open warehouse doorway, where the hovercraft pilot caught her eye. He stood outside, tipping his head toward the heart of town in an unspoken invitation. When she didn’t answer, he said, “Have a drink with me.” He held up both hands. “I promise I’ll keep these to myself…unless you beg me to reconsider.”
She laughed, but she still wasn’t interested. “You seem nice, but—”
“I heard the pub just got a shipment of hellberry wine.”
Her brows jumped. “From Pesirus?”
“Yep. The real deal.”
That was it. He’d found the chink in her armor. There was nothing in the galaxy Cassia loved more than hellberry wine. Everyone on the Banshee knew she lived for their yearly delivery to Pesirus, the only place where hellberries grew. The wine was spicy and sweet, served warm with a shot of cane syrup that made her feel like she was bathing in bliss.
“All right,” she decided, jogging outside to meet him. “But only one glass. Any more and I’ll wind up naked in the town churchyard.” She knew from experience.
The boy winked. “One extra-large glass, coming right up.”
After closing the warehouse doors, he led the way to the pub. They strode together down the center of the road through town, which seemed deserted now that Cassia had a chance to pay attention. While her new friend tried to impress her by prattling on about the farmland he was about to buy, she peered through store windows and in between buildings for the settlers she’d seen shopping a few minutes earlier. She noticed movement inside the general depot, but aside from that, it seemed everyone had taken a simultaneous lunch break.
That struck her as odd.
She turned to the boy to ask for an explanation, only he wasn’t there anymore. She spotted his retreating form just before he ducked out of sight behind the washhouse.
Her senses fired a red alert.
She halted her steps, darting glances in every direction. Ahead of her, three men stepped out of the pub and ambled onto the street. Her eyes took in the restraints hanging from their utility belts, and she instantly pegged them as bounty hunters. Fear gripped her, but then sunlight glinted off a metal disk embedded in one man’s temple—a prefrontal cortex blocker—and the bottom fell out of her stomach.
These weren’t ordinary bounty hunters.
In a flash, she whirled around and sprinted between two buildings, heading toward a nearby soy field. The short, leafy stalks wouldn’t hide her, but she had to lead the men away from her ship before they tortured the captain into telling them where Kane had gone. The Daeva had found her, and these hunters had no limits. Kane’s name was on the contract, too, but unlike her, he was marked for death.
The worst kind.
When you want someone dead, you hire a hit man. When you want someone to scream until his vocal cords rupture, you call the Daeva. Cassia’s former captain had said that, and she’d never been able to get the image out of her head. She wouldn’t let that happen to Kane, not while she still had breath in her body.
She ignored the burning in her muscles and sprinted faster through the field. A sudden whizzing noise rose above the sound of boots pounding on soil, and before she had a chance to glance over her shoulder, something tangled around her ankles and sent her pitching forward.
She landed hard on her stomach with a grunt that knocked the wind from her lungs. Rolling aside, she tugged in vain at the bindings that had hobbled her. The ropes were metal, fixed in place by two interlocking spheres that wouldn’t release without a key.