“This job comes with a great deal of risk … you could look for a better deal elsewhere, but I doubt you’d find it.”
“Nine thousand.”
“Ten. It’s not up for discussion.”
They stared at each other a moment before Jenna let out a slow exhale. She had enough experience with negotiations to know when someone wouldn’t budge.
“All right,” she agreed warily. “Six before we leave Morith, the rest on completion of the job.”
The cyborg nodded. “That’s acceptable.”
Their gazes met once more. The cyborg’s face might have been blank, but Jenna had spent years practicing her best ‘diplomat mask’ in front of the mirror. It was one her mother had taught her, and it had served her well during tense negotiations.
She couldn’t read Vic’s face—but he couldn’t read hers either.
He had no idea she was worried. Did she want to put her trust in a rogue cyborg?
Jenna’s chest tightened then, anxiety twisting within her. They’d spent hours trawling Morhaven’s seedy back tunnels. Cyborg or not, Vic Mir-Riorde was the strongest candidate so far, and unlike some of the mercs they’d approached, he was willing to take on the job. Plus, with a price on her head, she needed to avoid further dealings with mercenaries. She couldn’t pay as well as Tian and couldn’t risk anyone recognizing her.
With each passing hour, Cathal’s life was increasingly in peril. They had to get back to Idral—and soon.
“Very well.” She stuck out her hand. “You’re hired.”
Vic’s muscular body tensed, his hazel eye shadowing. Her gesture had thrown him, and Jenna wondered why.
Moments passed, and then he nodded stiffly before reaching out and shaking her hand firmly. He then did the same with Malik.
“Your companion tells me we’re short on time.” Vic drained the dregs of the glass before him and rose to his feet. “However, I’ll need to refuel and fill in some paperwork before we can set off. I’ll also get us … and your family … fake IDs.” He paused then, pulling a small tablet from a pocket on the thigh of his cargo pants. “Can you send me everyone’s photos?”
Jenna nodded, pulling out her own tablet and quickly bringing up images. She had numerous pictures of her family stored there, and Malik’s photo wasn’t hard to locate either. An instant later, she’d shared them all with Vic’s device. “Done.”
“Good,” Vic replied, pocketing his tablet. “We leave in twelve hours … at 0900. Landing Bay 44. Don’t be late.”
“We won’t be,” Malik assured him.
15. CONFESSIONS
THE CYBORG DEPARTED, leaving the pleasure house through the sliding doors. Meanwhile, Jenna and Malik returned to their booth on the opposite side of the common room.
They’d only just seated themselves when the server appeared, with two frosted glasses upon a tray. “Here you are,” she murmured, viewing Malik under long sparkly eyelashes. “Are you sure there won’t be anything else?”
“No, thanks,” Malik answered, for it was clear she hadn’t been addressing his companion.
Jenna watched the half-clothed woman sashay off. She then glanced her bodyguard’s way, expecting to see his gaze tracking the server’s backside.
But he wasn’t.
Instead, he was viewing Jenna with a narrowed gaze. “I had that conversation with the cyborg under control, you know … you didn’t have to interrupt” —he paused then— “and risk drawing attention to yourself.”
Jenna pushed back the edge of her hood a fraction and flashed him an arch look. “You were going to turn him down, weren’t you?”
Malik’s frown deepened.
“I thought so,” she huffed.
Mouth compressing, her bodyguard tore his gaze from hers. He then picked up his glass and inspected it. “What’s this then?”
Jenna plucked her tablet out of her cloak pocket and made a note of the time and gate number Vic had given them.
