Lover Enslaved: Thieves of Aurion, Book 1 (10 page)

Really?
Mara shuddered at the idea of him rutting away on some poor female like a shaggy, potbellied wartobeast.

“Have the dockmaster contact me when you’re ready for pickup.” After tipping his cap, the captain waddled back into his quarters.

With nothing left to do, they abandoned ship. Their bags waited with the rest of the Sea Surfer’s cargo on the pier and after collecting them, Mara and Dash walked the short distance into town with Piper fluttering overhead.

Steel-sided buildings clustered tightly together on the other side of the dusty road. They possessed a disreputable quality, as if the simple act of looking at them might infect the casual observer with the black scourge.

“This place doesn’t look very friendly.”

Mara mentally agreed with Piper’s assessment.

“That’s the point,” Dash said, his gaze diligently scouting the area. “They don’t want folks lingering.”

Mara shot him a curious glance. “Why?”

“
Sher ’tian
, stuff goes down in hellhole places like this you’re better off not witnessing.”

She gulped past a lump of anxiety. “We’re uh…not staying long, are we?”

“Not if we wish to live.”

Sucking in a breath, she hastened her step to keep up with his long strides. They approached one of the shady-looking structures. The wind whistled an eerie tune between the sheet metal riveted to the exterior, and apprehension slithered down Mara’s spine. “Is it really necessary we go in there?”

Dash didn’t answer, merely tightened his fist around the handle of his bag before elbowing the door open and striding inside. After sharing a mutual shiver of the heebie-jeebies, Mara and Piper darted through the swinging steel door. A thick blanket of acrid smoke swirled in the air. Mara choked on a cough. Thunking her valise to the ground, she covered her mouth. Here she thought the rotting fish were stinky.

Bare light bulbs swung over the scarred wooden bar situated near the far wall, casting lambent yellow shadows over an assortment of tattooed males smoking from Huluki pipes.

“I thought those pipes were outlawed,” Mara blurted in surprise.

Dash slid her a quick look, his jaw tight enough to crack the toughest fruta nut. “From here on out, don’t open your mouth.” His expression turned fiercer when she threatened to disobey his command. “Damn it, Mara, these men don’t abide any laws, and your fool tongue is two steps from getting us killed.”

Scowling, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her corded vest. When put like that, how could she argue?

One of the males glanced at them, shock freezing him in place when he spotted Dash. He elbowed his nearest smoking partner, who granted them the same incredulous stare before poking the next fellow. Soon they owned the entire room’s attention.

“As I live and breathe.” The male occupying the last stool hefted his considerable bulk from his seat and crossed the room with an arrogant swagger. His bloodshot eyes traveled over Dash. “Rumor is you’re dead, Rhyder.”

Dash lowered his bag but didn’t relax his rigid stance. “Then I must be the healthiest dead bastard around.”

A chuckle shook the other male’s shoulders and he clasped Dash in a hearty embrace. Mara blinked. She would never have placed the pony-tailed ruffian for a hugger. He stepped away from Dash and took his time giving every inch of her a thorough inspection. “Understandable, when you’ve got your own personal nursemaid.” He winked and nudged Dash in the ribs.

Mara opened her mouth and Dash sent her a warning stare. She closed it with a jarring click of her teeth.
This’ll be hard.
Real hard. Resisting a swear word when the mop pail runs over your foot hard. And she hadn’t managed very well when that unfortunate occurrence happened, so who the hell knew how she’d fare with this.

“Plan on stayin’ in the area?”

Dash shook his head. “Just long enough for a snatch and run.”

The other male’s bushy brows lifted. “What’s the stake? Anything I know?”

“No.”

Mara glared at Dash’s profile. Why didn’t he mention the Rhyann rune? Maybe his friend knew something of its whereabouts.

Before she could bring up the possibility to Dash, he cleared his throat. “Know where I might find Jerrick?”

The other male’s expression teetered the fine line between shock and bafflement. “
Jerrick
?” He scratched the back of his head, his thick mustache twitching. “Sure you want to poke in dark corners lookin’ for him?”

A strange tension surged from Dash. It attached itself to Mara, feeding her own worries. He didn’t seem thrilled at the prospect of seeing this Jerrick fellow. Maybe they should consider an alternate plan. Much as she wanted to get her hands on the Rhyann, she didn’t want them to needlessly endanger themselves in the process.

“Don’t have much choice.” Dash punctuated his pronouncement with a stiff shrug.

“Last spotted him skulking around one of Tul’dea’s party clubs. Plenty of rich marks for the taking in those parts.”

So Jerrick was a thief. Why didn’t that surprise her?

Dash reached for his bag. “Thanks, Hondal. One of these days we’ll tip a couple Ginnishes and catch up on old times.” He grabbed Mara’s arm and spun her towards the doorway. Piper shot past them, an indistinct blur as she hot-winged it to the exit.

Outside, Mara blinked against the sun and jerked from Dash’s grip. “Am I allowed to talk now?”

“No.”

“Too bad. I’m going to anyway.” She poked Dash in the chest, forcing him to take a shuffling step back. “I deserve a few answers, damn it.”

Dash’s harsh laugh grated against her nerves. “Priceless—the woman who’s a walking enigma demanding answers.”

“I’m not keeping anything from you.” At least not anything that could potentially put his life at risk. Could he say the same? “Why didn’t you tell your friend we’re looking for the Rhyann rune? Didn’t it occur to you he might know where it is, therefore eliminating the need for tracking down this Jerrick?”
Whoever he is
.

His face reminded her of a granite mask—hard and unyielding. “Hondal and I are business acquaintances, not friends. Which is why I sure as hell don’t want him to know we’re after the rune. Thieving faes are a backstabbing, untrustworthy lot.” She cocked an eyebrow and he scraped his boot in the dirt. “Yes, I include myself in that description.”

She appreciated him acknowledging the fact but found his logic a tad skewed. “If all thieves are backstabbers, what makes you think we can trust this Jerrick fellow?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think. We need him.”

“Why?” She nearly cried the word.

A vein visibly throbbed above the scar marring Dash’s forehead. He clenched his jaw, glaring at her. She wanted to throttle him for being so stubbornly tight-lipped. Slamming her valise against her shin, she began walking away, stirring up dust with her angry march.

“Because I didn’t steal the rune. He did.”

Chapter Seven

Sometimes admitting the truth freed a person. Other times it settled in the gut like soured milk. Right now, Dash figured he was suffering the mother of all indigestion.

Mara stopped dead in her tracks and executed a slow pivot. “Mind repeating that?”

“Must I?” Once was hard enough. Saying it again would be akin to ripping his toenails out.

She nodded and he hung his head in resignation. “I didn’t steal the damn rune.”

“Then why did Finian accuse you of taking it from his family’s vault?”

He rubbed his forehead, wishing for a handy wall to bang his skull against. “Long, boring story.”

Her expression suggested she wouldn’t let it end there. Of course not, she possessed the stubborn mindset of a Mer’daca mountain mule. Glancing over his shoulder, he checked the entrance of the bar. No one lurked in the doorway or anywhere on the street, but fae thieves were skilled eavesdroppers.

“We need to rustle some transportation before we start attracting further attention,” he said in hopes of distracting her. It did the trick, and she scurried after him down a narrow alley running parallel with the main street.

A mangy hound stopped rooting through a garbage bin and issued a threatening snarl. Dash ignored the beast and the saliva dribbling from its wickedly sharp incisors. He hurried their pace until they reached a warehouse with large steel doors running along its back end.

“What is this place?” Mara gave the building a dubious stare.

“Some vehicles end up here prior to finding new homes.”

Mara wrinkled her nose. “You mean it’s a dissemble shop?”

“I won’t ask how such a sheltered flower knows that term.” Chuckling, he handed his bag to Mara. “If I’m not back in ten minutes, run.”

She shoved the bag back at him. “Forget it, I’m coming with you. And what the hell kind of advice is
run
?”

“You’re staying put.” He ignored her growl and tucked her fingers over the handle of his bag. “These shops are typically run by sketchy characters. I don’t need to worry about your safety while brokering our transportation.”

“So don’t. I’m a big girl.” She sidled around him and pushed the side door open with her valise.

She’s going to be the death of me.
Gritting his teeth, he followed her into the garage’s dim interior. Paint fumes and the gritty stench of engine oil fouled the air. A bald man hunched over a pod cycle’s stripped-down carcass, his sagging pants displaying way too much ass crack. He turned his head, his posture going rigid.

Dash nodded and offered the traditional Mer’daca greeting. “
L’argo te
.”

The man lowered his laser torch but didn’t loosen his grip around it. Dash took it as a good sign. He’d half expected to feel the torch’s white-hot bite ripping through his flesh by now.

“You lost?”

“We’re in need of a vehicle.” Dash didn’t take his gaze off the torch’s glowing tip. “A mutual friend suggested your services.”

“Ain’t got no friends.” The man pointed the torch towards the exit. “Get your asses outta here.”

“We have money—lots of it,” Piper said, landing on a cart stocked with pipes and oil canisters.

Dash groaned.
No, she’s going to be the death of me.

Greed sparkled in the mechanic’s eyes as he stared at the two bags in Mara’s hands. Licking his fleshy lips, he stepped forward, unconcerned when the torch’s beam flicked dangerously close to Piper’s wings. Saved from a singeing, the sprite squealed and scrambled behind a canister.

The mechanic lunged for Mara.

Here we go.
Dash leapt between them and grabbed the beefy arm holding the torch. He gave a vicious tug, but the mechanic possessed lightning reflexes and plowed a ham-hock-sized fist into his jaw.

Stars spinning in his vision, Dash staggered sideways, taking the mechanic with him. He jerked away when the torch’s tip arced upward. Not quick enough. The crispy scent of fried hair competed with oil and paint fumes.
Shit
.

A rusty laugh rattled from the mechanic. Victory swam in the oily blackness of his eyes as he drew his arm back. Dash was prepared this time. His fist crunched into the man’s bulbous nose.
Thunk.
The mechanic’s eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the stained concrete.

What the hell?
Dash stared at his fist. “Didn’t even put much swing behind it.”

“I did.”

He lifted his head. Mara clutched one of the cart’s steel pipes in her hand.

“Still wish I’d waited outside?” She twirled the pipe in a flashy show.

“I had the situation handled.” Ignoring her derisive snort, he snagged the torch and clicked it off. He assessed the assorted vehicles scattered around the garage and decided on a dark blue Cloud Chaser
.
Solar powered, roomy and practical. Definitely not his style, which would throw off his enemies.

He strode to the cart and planted a knee on the floor. The third drawer contained a steel box. He made quick work springing the lock with a wire filched from another drawer and pulled out a ring of keys.

“How’d you know they were in there?”

Dash glanced at Piper as she leaned over the cart’s edge. “Because even shady mechanics are predictable.” Palming the key ring, he sauntered to the Cloud Chaser. “Let’s hope this baby holds some juice.” He swiped a thin layer of dust from the solar eye dome before yanking open the driver’s side door.

He rifled through the keys. The sixth one in looked like a possible fit and he notched it into the ignition. A chuggish purr coughed from the engine before the Cloud Chaser settled on idle. “One of you hit the button by the doors. We need to get this outside before the sun sets.”

Piper flew forward and kicked a boot against the appropriate button. When the noisy hoist rolled the metal doors upward, Dash settled behind the wheel and coasted the vehicle from the garage. He craned his head out the window. “Get your butts in here.”

Mara fished inside her bag and pulled out several merca bills. She fanned them carefully on the mechanic’s chest before she raced outside and jumped into the passenger side. Shaking his head, Dash maneuvered the Cloud Chaser out the snug alley and exited onto the main street.