His mind worked. He knew where she was.
The easiest nab and grab of his life was waiting for him on the three-hundred-and-fourteenth level of the Squirrel Tree. He could land two hundred million in his account.
Double that if she still had the goods.
Chapter 8
I was surprised to see Shade Ganavan show up the next morning practically with the sun. I hadn’t even had my coffee yet, but there he was on the platform, looking ready to work.
Actually, he was checking out the lab attachment. From the outside, it looked like any other piece of space equipment, most likely an additional cargo hold, and luckily, there were no holes in that part of the ship to give him a view straight inside.
I kept to the shadows of the Endeavor’s open doorway, watching him. He moved on to examining the rest of the ship, and unless he had X-ray vision, I wasn’t going to worry about the lab attachment too much.
I’d destroyed the test tubes of my blood, flushing the contents and boiling the labels into oblivion before trashing the empty containers via the compactor. That evidence was gone, and I hadn’t found any other hidden compartments with more samples. Just like Big Guy had said, that was it. With any luck, that was it in the entire galaxy, apart from what was pulsing through my veins.
Once I’d eliminated the samples, I’d sealed up the air lock leading to the attachment. Only I knew the pass code. No one was getting into that lab but me, and even I didn’t want to go back.
Shade eventually reached the gash in the hull at the level of my bedroom, which was pretty barren and torn up. There, he could see straight in, and he ducked down for a better look.
Even with Albion City starting to buzz and hum far below, I heard him mutter something about major repairs as he ran his fingers along the blackened edges of the hole.
A sinking feeling dropped through me. Whatever Shade did was going to cost me an arm and two legs. On top of that, we needed to resupply, and I had some unexpected shopping to do. Space had eaten nearly all my underwear. And plenty of clothes as well. I was too tall to share with Miko, Shiori, or Fiona, and I swam in Jax’s things. I had no choice but to buy new outfits if I wanted to blend into civilian settings, like here on Albion 5, or anywhere we might go for whatever jobs came next.
Shade’s entire upper body disappeared into my bedroom. He looked like he was about to crawl in.
“Morning!” I called out, not really comfortable with him inspecting my unmade bed.
He ducked back out of the damaged ship, straightening as he looked over. Sunglasses masked his expression and reflected my own image back at me.
Squatting low, I braced one hand against the Endeavor’s floor and vaulted down onto the landing dock about four feet below. It was always a bit of a scramble getting back up again, but letting down the ship’s stairs was an unnecessary use of power as far as I was concerned, especially while we were recharging.
“I thought you needed a few days to get the reinforced metal,” I said, moving toward the man who had occupied far too many of my thoughts since the previous afternoon.
“I had two tiles in stock.” Shade turned away from me, resuming his careful perusal of the Endeavor. After a long silence, he added, “Figured I’d get to work while I waited for more to come in from my supplier.”
I nodded, although he wasn’t looking. He seemed to have an expert eye and was wholly concentrated on the ship.
I thanked him anyway, and he grunted something in response, poking his head into another hole.
I watched him, and Shade ignored me. He was distant to the point of making me wonder if I’d imagined the flirting yesterday. Had the warmth and interest all been in my imagination? It wouldn’t have been the first time I’d dreamed up something false. Today, his flat expression behind dark glasses wasn’t telling me much. Or maybe he just wasn’t a morning person, which made me wonder why the hell he’d shown up so close to the crack of dawn.
“We never talked about payment,” I pointed out when he emerged from the damaged hull once more. After he’d added up materials and labor, I hated to think of the total cost.
“The metal is twelve hundred per tile, and you’ll need nine, not eight.”
“Twelve hundred!” My jaw practically hit my chest. “It’s only eight fifty on Rhylight!”
He turned to me, finally taking off those reflective shades and slipping them into his back pocket. His honey-brown eyes looked dark. “You’re not on Rhylight, starshine.”
I took a step toward him. “Don’t ‘starshine’ me, you crook. I won’t pay a single unit over one thousand in universal currency.”
Watching me, he seemed to think about it, his big hands resting on his hips. He apparently liked that pose. I could see why. It made him look even wider and showed off his menacing knuckles.
“Factor in five hundred a day for labor,” he finally said, “and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I breathed through the panic of my rapidly depleting funds and did the math in my head. I had that much. There would be next to nothing left over, but I could pay his fee. And five hundred units a day for some pretty hard and heavy labor wasn’t unreasonable.
Finally, I nodded in agreement. “How long do you think it’ll take?” Not more than a week. Please don’t say more than a week. And even that long in one place seemed awfully dangerous. What if Bridgebane found out we were still alive? With the lab intact? Being on the run required the ability to actually move.
Shade looked at the ship again, his eyes sweeping over the partially blown-out hull. He scratched at the dark stubble that had sprung up on his jaw overnight. “All week.” His laser stare cut back to me. “And I’ll need to hire someone to help me lift the tiles into place.”
A glance toward the two tiles Shade had brought up on a hover crate confirmed that they were thick metal monsters. Just what I needed. “I—”
He shook his head, cutting me off. “Not you. You look plenty capable, cupcake, but you’re not strong enough to lift this stuff.”
“I know.” My glare and tone hopefully conveyed just how much I loved being cut off. And called cupcake. “I have someone who can help. He’s very big and strong,” I added, just in case Shade needed convincing.
Something flashed in his eyes. Annoyance? Did Shade Ganavan like being the biggest and strongest around? Well, too bad. I had Jax.
Frowning slightly, Shade moved between the ship and me and then ran his fingers over what was left of the ragged edge of the outer starboard door. “What the hell happened here? Has this been…sawed?”
He glared at me over his shoulder.
Geez. Really not a morning person.
I shrugged. “Might’ve been.”
Turning, he leaned against the doorframe and stared at me. I stared back. We did a lot of that. It was very awkward—at least for me.
“Can you fix it?” I finally asked.
He shook his head, pushing off from the ship and pointing to different parts of the messed-up door panels. “A patch won’t work here. Or here. You need a whole new door.”
Dismay settled in my stomach like lead. “I can’t afford that.”
“Your ship’s useless then. The other repairs won’t matter without a door.”
I swallowed. What did I have that was worth something? What could I sell or… “I can barter with food,” I said. Nothing we had was fancy, but we had a big supply, all of it purloined and military issue. I felt no guilt whatsoever. The galactic government wouldn’t let its soldiers starve.
“Do I look like I’m hungry?” Shade countered.
My nostrils flared. Fine. “I’ll fly with just the safety door, then.”
“No, you won’t.”
My head jerked back and down into my neck, probably making me look at lot like a turtle. I’d read about turtles. Hadn’t seen one yet. “I won’t?”
“An inner door is to provide an air lock and to hold you together in an emergency until you can get the outer door fixed. It’s not meant to take reentries and jumps on a regular basis.”
I knew that. Did he think I didn’t?
Shaking my head, I shrugged. “No choice.”