8. FOOLHARDY AND FLAWED
“YOU HAVE A plan?” Jenna shifted forward, peering into the bag. “Already?”
“Half of one … at least.” Reaching into the bag, Captain Malik withdrew a small plastic box. “Contact lenses … to turn our eyes golden.” He then pulled out a larger container. “And body clay and paint.”
Jenna cocked her head, mouth pursing, her excitement ebbing. “What kind of plan is this?”
His smile widened. Damn him, her bodyguard was enjoying her discomfort. “Those Daksari in the spaceport gave me the idea,” he replied. “They looked our way because at first glance our green robes made us look like them.”
“It didn’t take them long to realize their mistake though,” Jenna pointed out.
He gestured to the two containers sitting on the bed. “That’s where the contact lenses and body paint come in.” He paused then, his expression sobering. “It won’t be a disguise that’ll stand up to close inspection … but it should get us through the gates and onto a passenger liner.” He reached into the bag once more, withdrawing two cards. “Our new IDs.”
Jenna took them from him, looking down at the two faces staring back at her: grey-green skin, neck gills, and protruding brow-ridges above penetrating golden eyes. “We’re going to have to do a good job with those paints,” she murmured. Glancing up, she met her bodyguard’s gaze. “What are we going to do about our voices?”
“Try not to speak.”
Jenna inhaled deeply, her fingers clenching around the ID cards. “Okay,” she murmured. “Thiscouldwork.”
Captain Malik reached into the bag and pulled out two neatly folded jade-green garments. “Those robes you wear are impractical … I bought you a pair of pants and a tunic to go under your cloak.”
Jenna took the clothing, her mouth curving. The material was silky and finely woven. “Thank you … I need something clean to wear.”
Her bodyguard dug into the bag once more and took out two food containers and some bottles of water. The savory odor of something fried and heavily spiced drifted toward Jenna, and her belly growled. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s eat.”
Taking one of the containers and a fork he passed her, Jenna smiled. “Thank you, Captain. I do appreciate all of this.”
Instead of accepting her thanks, her bodyguard’s expression shuttered. “Just doing my job, My Lady,” he replied curtly.
Jenna’s smile froze upon her face. She didn’t expect them to be fast friends, but his off-hand response stung. She knew their relationship was a professional one, but he didn’t have to be rude. She’d never seen him respond to Cathal so brusquely—in fact, he always talked to her brother with the utmost respect.
However, Jenna swiftly recovered; years of working as a diplomat served her well.
Perching on the bed, she placed the container on her lap and carefully opened it. She wasn’t sure what the name of the dish was he’d brought her—a mélange of fried strips of meat and spiced, steamed vegetables—but it smelled good.
Meanwhile, her bodyguard lowered himself onto a chair in the corner of the room and started on his meal. They ate without conversing, each withdrawing into their own thoughts. It wasn’t a companionable silence.
After the captain’s blunt response, Jenna was now wary of him.
“The Widow Makers are hunting you,” he said eventually, shattering the quiet.
Jenna froze before lowering her fork. She’d heard of the Widow Makers—few in the Rith sector hadn’t. They were reputed to be the best, and the most expensive, assassins in this corner of the galaxy.
“While I was out shopping, I tracked three men who drew my attention,” Malik continued, meeting her eye. “They split off, and I followed one of them … and ambushed him.” He paused then, gaze glinting. “It took some persuasion, but he eventually revealed his identity … and that Tian Mir-Ferrin hired him.”
Jenna’s fingers tightened around her fork. There was a hard edge to her bodyguard’s voice that made a chill feather across her skin. She didn’t want to know what methods Captain Malik had used topersuadea hardened assassin to reveal his identity.
Her belly contracted, the greasy meal she’d just consumed churning uneasily. “Gods, Tian really does want me dead,” she murmured.
“Don’t worry, the assassin won’t be telling anyone about his chat with me,” her bodyguard assured her. “I dealt with him.”
Jenna swallowed. She had no doubt he had.
He’d deliberately been blunt in his telling of the incident, as if he wanted to remind her who he was, and what his role was.
A trained killer. Her protector.
Glancing back down at her half-eaten container of food, Jenna forced herself to keep eating. Even so, her stomach had closed. Abandoning the last few mouthfuls, she wiped her hands clean on a paper serviette and helped herself to one of the bottles of water he’d brought. Sipping it, she pulled out her tablet and brought up a browser.
