Courtesans and Lovers (The Space Courtesans Saga Book 2) Page 4

  “Raise the ramp, BIP,” I responded to the AI. “And contact Jace to let him know he can return to the ship. I’ll be on the bridge momentarily to accept messages.”

  Tired, yet happy with credits added to my account and free water filling my reserves, I took a minute or two to slip into last night’s discarded dress, freshened my face, and rebraided my hair. After all, I didn’t want a possible client to be frightened off from my post-joining appearance.

  If only the reachout was from a client. As I sat at the bridge console and scanned the most recent messages, my heart nearly stopped when the Galactic Enforcement emblem flashed at the top. Never in all the cycles of my travels had I received an official reachout summons from an enforcement division.

  Since Irik had located me traveling among the Rim planets, I wouldn’t put it past him to notify authorities of my presence so they might harass and drive me back into his arms. He’d threatened to interfere with my clients too, but he knew that would only lead to trouble for him, since not even the royal family could restrict a courtesan from exercising her duties.

  However, his subjects were easily intimidated, as he’d so readily shown on Port Flint. Frustration burned at what he might be up to.

  Though I couldn’t imagine what infraction they might try to pin me with on his behalf. My courtesan records were up-to-date, my ship’s registration current, and I was legally authorized to be on the ambassador’s landing platform.

  I unclenched my fist then pressed a trembling finger to the official emblem before smoothing errant tendrils from my face as I waited for the connection to establish.

  The fresh, young visage of a newer recruit filled the screen. “Galactic Enforcement, Lyandra Division. How may I direct your reachout?”

  I identified myself. “I’m responding to a reachout from your division.”

  His eyes darted to the side. “Ah, yes. One moment while I connect you with Captain Greelan.”

  My heart sank and it took everything I had to keep the pleasant smile on my face. My suspicions were on the mark. Irik had obviously used his influence somehow to try and force me to return. How would he do it? Claim my credentials were forged? Try to confiscate or ground my ship as an unsafe derelict without a proper crew? Why else would a high ranking officer of the law contact me?

  I was never happier than that moment to claim Jace within my employ. I’d even go so far as to declare him my official pilot if that helped, no doubt to his great pleasure.

  And my license as a courtesan? Lily would never stand for such interference. If that was Irik’s game plan, it didn’t stand a chance once the House Matron received notification. My status would be restored by luncheon.

  For a brief second, I had the fleeting thought that perhaps this was a potential client. Someone carrying the rank of captain might just have noble connections, though I’d never hosted a law enforcement official within my sanctuary. But as with Jace, I’d learned there was a first time for anyone out here on the Rim – especially when I was desperate.

  A handsome, middle-aged gentleman appeared on the screen along with the identifier tag near the bottom. Speckled beard and mustache neatly trimmed, though the dark eyes glinted with more than just the authority of his position. It quickly grew obvious this was not a client consideration

  “Thank you for responding to my reachout, Mistress Dahlia,” he said, lips set in a grim line.

  “Of course, Captain. How may I be of service?”

  “Do you know a…” Those hard eyes glanced downward as he read. “Jace Wylder?”

  Wilder? In the weeks we’d known one another, never once had I asked for Jace’s full name. But I wasn’t about to tell Captain Greelan. However, if Jace had done something to endanger my good name and therefore my livelihood, I wouldn’t hesitate to leave him on this hazy, frozen rock. Let his father pick him up and carry him back to Port Flint where I’d found him.

  Maybe. I’d certainly miss a few things associated with the mech tech – namely his cock.

  I sat up straighter. “Jace is a member of my crew…my pilot.” I’d never hear the end of it if he found out I’d referred to him as such. But in this case, it might legitimize him a bit more in the eyes of an official – though whether he deserved it or not remained to be seen. “Has something happened?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  For a moment, my heart leapt into my throat. I hadn’t considered something tragic may have happened to the mech tech. “Is he okay?”

  “Well, it seems he had the misfortune of getting into a drunken brawl last night down at the bar…with one of my deputies.”

  Concern morphed into anger in an instant. I pinched off the emotion before it erupted. “Do you have witnesses as to who started this brawl?”

  “A whole bar full of patrons,” he replied, smoothing his mustache with a stroke of his thumb and finger down either side of his mouth. “A few of which are also deputies.” He named a ridiculous amount for bail. “Of course, I’d be open to making other arrangements if needed.”

  The captain didn’t need to elaborate. His meaning came through the console loud and clear.

  I sighed. “Please send directions, and I’ll be right there to make arrangements.”

  Jace was in more than a bit of trouble at that price – and this time, it was with me.

  Chapter Seven

  Those waiting in the dark, dank precinct stood aside in deference as I strode from the underground transport shaft station and stood among the sea of downtrodden humanity. The chill in the air penetrated the long-sleeved dress I’d worn from my visit with Trina last night, and I had no doubt the scent of musk followed me every step of the way as I’d made the trek into the heart of the city.

  My feet nearly froze to my sandals as I stepped in an unforeseen puddle and prayed the lingering effects of the tea tree oil from last night would protect me from the parasites likely swimming through the muck. I shivered just as much from the cold as I did from fear as I took in the rough figures surrounding me.

  The jangle of raised voices that had initially greeted my entrance descended into murmurs as I searched among the grimy gazes for an official. Most, if not all, had probably never laid eyes on a courtesan in all her finery.

  As much as they were transfixed with my appearance, my fear of them was only tempered by the frustration I felt at having to walk into such a facility in the first place, not to mention the ever constant depletion of my accounts.

  Flickering lights along the wall near the detainment desk barely penetrated the translucent hood of my gossamer robe before I lowered it to address the man seated there. His eyes were hard. Impenetrable. My presence did nothing to intimidate or impress him.

  “Excuse me,” I addressed him with as much dignity as I could muster in such environs. “I am here to address the detention of my…pilot.”

  Referring to Jace as more than my mech tech might serve to raise his value in such a man’s estimation.

  Unfortunately, I was wrong. “Name?” he asked without a hint of interest in those flinty eyes.

  “Jace.” It took a split second longer to remember the surname Captain Greelan had used. “Jace Wilder.”

  His fingers hovered over the surface of the desk before the blue light holoscreen flashed in front of his face. The blue glow hovered between us as he rapidly scrolled through a list of names he couldn’t possibly read at such a speed. However, from my angle, I made out Jace’s name the moment the scrolling halted.

  The officer tapped and opened Jace’s file before lowering the holoscreen below the lip of the desk. But I’d seen enough to know the error of spelling I’d assumed with his last name – and how much more his indiscretion was going to cost me.

  And why.

  I hesitated. I fumed. I considered leaving him in his cell to rot before reason finally returned. This wasn’t a mere drunken brawl with the captain’s deputies, so why had he led me to believe that was the extent of Jace’s indiscretion? In my experience out here along
the Rim beyond direct Galactic control, I’d seen firsthand plenty of corrupt actions and false claims – and something about this didn’t add up.

  Besides, Jace deserved the benefit of the doubt – something that was in short supply out here. Plus, after he’d saved me from an attacker on Port Flint, I rather owed him the chance to at least explain.

  But if the number of credits on the holoscreen was any indicator, I wouldn’t get out of offering up my services to Captain Greelan to secure Jace’s release – that is, unless I played my trump card correctly.

  I possessed the upper hand in the game, since I had direct connection to the Lyandran ambassador and all the power her position offered.

  When I’d contacted her before leaving the ship, Trina had been more than willing to use her position to assist my mech tech. She’d even offered to accompany me, though I’d declined her most generous offer. The smelly precinct was no place for a refined and graceful lady of the nobility. No place for a courtesan either, but I had little choice if I wanted to get Jace out of this dreadful place.

  When the officer rattled off the ridiculous amount to secure Jace’s release, I calmly notified him to check in with his superior for an authorization of release into my custody from Ambassador Dregas.

  A few taps later, the only change in the officer’s expression was a slight raise of a brow when he glanced up – and then proceeded to allow his stare to travel over my body. “Well then. You are the courtesan…a Mistress Dahlia?”

  No displays of submission for this fellow. I raised my chin. “I am.”

  A low whistle. “We don’t see many of your kind around here.”

  “No doubt.” If at all.

  “Under the ambassador’s request, Mr. Wylder will be released into your custody without bail,” he began as he looked down at the holoscreen. “But there’s still the matter of damages.” He looked up again with a sly grin that said as much as his hand inching toward my arm. “How did you want to pay?”

  I took a step back before he made contact and ruined the only long-sleeved dress I owned. “With credits,” I replied firmly, satisfied with the twitch of his upper lip as he tried to control a discontented snarl.

  He raised the holoscreen and spun it my direction with a barely concealed growl of frustration as he sought to secure an account code-in for the transaction.

  I ignored the glowing blue image. “I prefer to transact all of my business through DNA signature.”

  A low chuckle from behind me sent the officer’s stare darting over my shoulder then back before a narrow piece of the desk slid aside and the old scanner popped from the surface.

  I carefully reviewed the amount, a third of what had appeared briefly on the holoscreen and yet still a massive drain to my account. With an anxious flutter of my heart, I pressed my palm to the surface and felt the warmth to signal the completion of the damage.

  A tap of the image, then another officer handed over a packet before the first waved me away. “Wait over there.”

  I deferred my position to the tall man in line behind me, who offered up a slight bow as I stared up at his rugged and handsome, older face. Clean-shaven. Unusual for the lower classes along the cold planets of the Rim. Thick fur-lined clothing that, while it didn’t scream enormous wealth, bespoke an elegance that appeared out of place in such a locale – much like me.

  I tilted my head in acknowledgment and donned my gossamer hood again as I glided across the way to stand nearer, but far enough away, from the surrounding rabble. The packet in my hands held an assortment of Jace’s personal effects that he could deal with later.

  The longer I stood, the more my freezing feet ached. My body began to also, as I fought against the trembling shivers of the cold. I was a woman accustomed to spending more time on my knees or back than my feet. That is, unless I was strolling along with a client. Or dancing.

  Ah, dancing. I pushed all of my thoughts toward Trina’s soirée tomorrow evening as I fought to take my mind off of the painful chill. Official government parties usually included plenty of the best food and wine unavailable elsewhere – unless Trina’s earlier words impacted her table offerings.

  Still, I looked forward to the dancing. Before the Tarlington gathering on Port Flint last month, I had danced maybe once or twice in three cycles. With an ambassador’s presence out here, perhaps such scarcity might change.

  Music and dancing fled my mind when a section of wall behind the desk slid aside. Expecting to see Jace, I was shocked when a young girl, not even ten cycles, stepped through the opening. Large, bewildered blue eyes stared out from beneath a mop of long, almost white, hair strands.

  I barely had time to contemplate what the child was doing in such a place, locked up with all manner of riff-raff, thieves, and scoundrels. When the hand of the tall stranger who’d stood in line behind me fell to grip her shoulder, the girl grimaced.

  As she was steered toward the precinct doorway, our eyes connected for a fraction of a second, revealing abject fear in her visage. I could almost hear an audible scream of desperation in that single look as the memories of my own childhood trauma tried to scratch the surface.

  Then she was gone.

  It took Jace’s rumpled and haggard appearance through the same opening to break the momentary spell and extinguish the rising anguish. The look on the mech tech’s face, however, wasn’t so much haunting as hungover.

  “Do not touch me,” I whispered through gritted teeth when he approached, then stopped him with a raised finger as he opened his mouth. “And do not speak. Just follow me.”

  I spun on my heel and glided as gracefully as frustration allowed, through the precinct doorway, then along the passageway lit by dripping ice-crusted seams in the high and narrow windows as we ascended toward the shaft station.

  Even in his condition and through my irritation, I was grateful to once again have Jace beside me. His presence provided a sense of safety I hadn’t felt when I’d descended into the gray gloom.

  Lyandra only possessed a few hours of half-light each day before the inhabited areas of the planet were once again thrown into darkness. It was nothing like the long days or bright warmth of my beloved Andurea. But having my mech tech nearby, especially after the display of fear on that poor girl’s face, offered a cover of protection I hadn’t felt since – since he’d left the ship last night.

  I pulled my hands in closer for warmth as we took up position in the station line and waited to board the transport shaft.

  “Dahlia, I…”

  “I said don’t speak,” I hissed over my shoulder, smacking the packet against his stomach for him to deal with. “Not until we return to the ship.”

  Thankfully Jace followed my orders – mostly. The stench of humanity pressed closer. It was all I could do to maintain my dignity without gagging until a freezing wind rushed up the shaft and cleared the air, signaling the hovertransport’s rapid approach. Sandaled feet that were already nearly frozen, numbed in an instant. I could no longer temper the shivering or chattering of my teeth.

  Jace must’ve heard the groan I attempted to stifle and positioned himself between me and the open shaft as the long transport carriage slid into the station and hovered on the other side of the protective barrier. The moment the barrier dissipated in a buzzing flash, he snaked an arm around my waist and supported my body against his as I slowly limped aboard and collapsed into a seat, grateful for his assistance.

  I didn’t even fuss when he slid my feet from the sandals and alternately massaged them and blew warm breath over them in turn. They were already exposed to enough germs and parasites when I’d splashed through the puddle, so what more could Jace’s filthy hands do?

  Besides bring them to life again with a stab of pain as numbness momentarily abated with each heated breath. Tears gathered in my eyes and the coppery tang of blood seeped across my tongue as I bit my lips to stem an agonized cry.

  I was hardly aware of our approaching stop until Jace eased my feet back into the sanda
ls and urged me to swollen feet. Out of respect for my dignity, he waited until we were on the levitator before cradling me in his arms and carrying me onto the ship.

  I gladly let him.

  Chapter Eight

  “Sandals are shitty footwear for the Rim.”

  The shivering had lessened as I sat along the edge of the sanctuary bathing vessel bundled in a thick blanket, glad to have returned to the safety and security of my ship. Instead of the admonishment I’d planned to deliver to Jace, he chastised me while adding more warm water to aid my submerged feet.

  The sharp, painful pinpricks racing through my feet had reduced to a dull throb as he slowly raised the water temperature.

  “Sandals are all a courtesan wears on Andurea,” I responded through chattering teeth.

  “Well you’re not on Andurea anymore,” he barked. “Out here you need closed shoes. Something with fur lining, if you’re going to go traipsing around out there.”

  “I’ve never needed them before.”

  “And how many times have you actually explored one of these planets? Gone into the cities or towns? Spent time around real people?” He turned off the spigot and plunged his hands into the water again to massage feeling into my feet before coating them in warm tea tree oil. “You spend all your time on this ship or inside some posh residence with plenty of heat.”

  His hands stilled. The hint of a grin tilted the corners of his lips and softened the angry furrow of his brows at the double meaning behind his words.

  I traced a finger along the edge of the stubbled jaw he’d left unshaven in his rush to care for me after the quick steam shower. His bare, sinewy chest glistened with a thin layer of oil topping the clean pair of low-slung denim.

  “Or we create our own heat.” With my foot already in his lap, I pressed my toes up against growing hardness as I cupped his chin and tugged his face nearer mine.

  The grin widened before the furrow replaced it, and he shook my hand from his face to focus his attentions again on massaging my feet. “You really should get out more…starting with a place that sells boots.”