Jedi huffed and puffed with every step. “You better pray that there aren’t any cameras around. Last thing I want is to see this footage played at my trial.”
She snorted at his complaints. “Relax. There’s no surveillance here. It’s why I call this wretched hell home.” Life on the Trigange Outpost was even cheaper than it was in the more civilized regions of the Ichidian universe. Almost everyone here was running from something or someone.
So people kept to themselves and kept no records about those who lived here or visited.
Last thing she needed was someone spying on her or taking any kind of note of her comings and goings.
Her father had tutored her well on keeping a low profile and staying off everyone’s radar.
For that alone, she didn’t curse him every waking minute of her useless life.
And thankfully, Jedi remained silent while he carried Jinx the short distance to her home and then dumped him unceremoniously on her couch.
“I told you not to hurt him any worse.”
“I don’t think that’s really possible. I mean look.” He gestured at the amount of blood on his own clothing. “You sure he’s not already dead? ‘Cause if I just hauled a corpse that weighs what he does all this way, I really will be pissed.”
Stepping past him, she double checked Jinx’s breathing. “It’s shallow, but he’s still with us. No thanks to you.”
“Then the bastard should have helped walk his hulking ass over here.” Jedi grimaced at his blood-stained clothes. “I’m taking a shower before I head home. Last thing I want is to run into any law asshole and get arrested because they think I killed someone.”
Yeah, that’d be their luck. Have them run the DNA, find out it belonged to an assassin and then she’d have two people she loved imprisoned for something they didn’t do.
“You know where everything is.”
“And a ‘thank you, Jedi,’ would be nice.” He headed for her bathroom.
“Thank you, Jedi,” she called while she moved to make her “guest” a little more comfortable.
Poor Jinx. No wonder he’d been so feral when she’d touched his arm if this was how he’d always been treated. But that was the thing about League assassins. They were honed killing machines.
Even without weapons, they were lethal.
Rumors claimed that they were taught from childhood to kill with their bare hands. Teeth. Whatever it took.
They were savage.
Rabid.
Supposedly, the only thing that kept them in check was that each one came with a kill switch and tracing device. If they stepped over the line or did anything they weren’t supposed to, their bosses could end their lives with the flick of a switch.
It was what made them so mean.
Like Jinx had said, they had no choice.
As young children, they were either taken from their parents, orphaned, or sold into that life. The League was all they knew. All they were allowed to know.
And almost none of them lived to be more than thirty years old.
Which made her wonder what category Jinx fell into.
Orphan. Slave or prisoner.
Had his parents been like hers and committed some crime that had caused The League to seize custody of him or worse . . .
Had his parents sold him to be one of their drones.
As bad as her father had been, at least he’d never done that to any of them.
