She cut him off. “Nobody had a better idea. For all we know, she’s been shipped off to some brothel like they were going to do with me.”
Gark hated that she was right.
“Look,” she said, her voice softening. Vox turned away, scanning the corridors to make sure they weren’t being watched. “I’m sure we’d be able to come up with a better plan with time, but I can’t just leave her there.”
Gark nodded. “All right. In that case, I’ll play the muscle and keep you in line. I’ll be right next to you the entire time.”
“I know.” She smiled briefly. “Let’s do this.”
They headed down the corridor, slipping into character like their lives depended on it, which he supposed they might. Whenhe’d been in the military, he’d always been the pilot, then he’d been a commander of troops, but he’d never been a covert operative. He’d never been a spy.
Vox, on the other hand, was eerily convincing as he sauntered up to the door and gave the code word. Aletta didn’t have to pretend to be terrified; she was shaking, her face pale and chest heaving with every breath.
The door opened, and they headed into the bar, past a guard who made Gark glad he had Vox with him. That one was far too big to be easy to take down on his own.
It was dimly lit, with a long bar against one wall. The tables were mostly empty, though a few had Taureans clad in black playing various gambling games. A haze of smoke filled the room.
Vox sauntered up to the bar, and Gark followed, dragging Aletta with him. Vox leaned against the bar, his back to the room, gesturing for the bartender.
Aletta stumbled forward, hands raised to cover her face. “She’s not here. I can’t see her anywhere.”
Gark cursed. They’d counted on the woman being in the main bar and getting out quickly. Every minute they spent here increased the chance of them being discovered.
“I have a thing for humans,” Vox said as the bartender slid what looked like two Tarkethian ales toward him.
There was a note of distaste in the bartender’s voice. “Can’t say I understand it.”
Vox looked at Aletta and laughed. “What’s to understand? They’re all soft and make the most delightful noises when you....well, you know.”
Gark had to remember that they were playing a part, and he forced himself to smile and grunt in reply and not punch Vox in the mouth. Aletta whimpered, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching up to grip her shoulder in one hand. He slid his thumbunder the cover of her hair and rubbed a gentle circle on her skin.
She shivered, and he hoped it looked like she was scared. The better to make this work.
“I heard you had a human here.” Vox turned back to the bartender.
He shrugged, tossing a dishcloth over his shoulder. “They come and go.”
Vox pulled a credit chip from his pocket and spun it over his fingers. It was a trick Gark had seen him do many times, and it had the predictable effect on the bartender. Back and forth the chip flipped, like a magic trick he’d seen at the harvest festival when he was a child.
Aletta gasped, and Gark squeezed her shoulder gently in warning. She shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head subtly to a doorway at the far end of the bar. The curtain covering the doorway twitched back into place, but not before Gark saw a pair of terrified brown eyes.
The bartender was too interested in getting his hands on the chip to pay any attention.
Vox slapped the chip on the bar and slid it slowly toward the bartender, who looked from the chip to Vox. He slowly reached for it, but not before Vox slapped his hand down over the chip.
“The woman. Bring her out.”
The bartender licked his lips, looking from where Vox’s hand covered the chip to the curtain that twitched open slightly again. There was definitely a human woman back there, mostly hidden in the dark.
The bartender leaned forward. “They won’t let you take her.”
Vox smirked. “Let me worry about them. Bring her out, and the credits are yours.” The bartender nodded and started to turn away, but Vox’s hand shot out and grabbed his forearm. “Help us leave with her, and I’ll triple it.”
The bartender nodded, eyes wide, a greasy smile spreading over his face. He disappeared into the back behind the curtain.
Vox turned his back to the bar, leaning his elbows on the dirty surface and popping a stick of gum into his mouth.
Gark stood to one side, like the hired goon he was meant to be, a muscle twitching in his jaw. A group of Taureans in black, sleeves ripped off their shirts to showthattattoo—the symbol of the Alliance—pushed their chairs back from one of the tables. One of them laughed, pulling the chips in the middle toward him, while the others headed for the bar.
