Knight, Dee S. - Bride of the Pryde (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (2 page)

* * * *

An hour and a half, two cab changes, and a confiscated car later, Susan arrived at Centre City Intergalactic Shuttle Port. In the confiscated car, for which she’d thrown the driver a million-buck Inter-exchange note, she found a vintage garment called a hoodie. With the top pulled over her head, she slouched to de-emphasize her five feet ten inches of height, and she made it into the terminal.

Men in dark suits speaking into their lapels roamed the entrance, watching people as they entered. Just as she suspected, Vault Man had beamed out the news of her destination. They couldn’t have any idea of where she would go from here, though, because she had no idea herself.
One thing at a time.

The terminal was enclosed in the city-security wall. Within the wall, she was at the mercy of Gov-agencies and their technology, including their communicators. The old saying, you can outrun a man but you can’t outrun his COMM, was true—she’d proved it herself a number of times, as one of the good guys.
You’re still one of the good guys.
She hated that she needed the reminder.

Outside the wall she’d be at the mercy of the citizens, which might be worse if it came out she worked for the government. Pheron filtered into the city from beyond the wall. Going out undercover was one thing—she’d come prepared for that. But slipping through the wall without her story established, without proper clothing and backup from the office staff, well, it would be suicide.

Fortunately, she had her shoulder bag. Lord only knew how she’d managed to hold onto it as she ran and scrambled for cover. At least she had a change of clothes, her identification, and some Inter-exchange notes. She would use her skills as an undercover operative to get lost in another world.

Every few feet, a Gov-man, obvious by his demeanor and attire, lounged against the wall, watching the passing crowd. She walked near one and stopped as though looking for something in her bag.

He spoke into his COMM. “No sign of her. We’ve been here an hour. I think she hit the monorail instead. She could be outside the city and on her way to anywhere.” He listened for a moment. “Okay, yeah. We’ll wait as long as you want, but I’m telling you—” He rolled his eyes at another man standing a few feet away. “Yes, sir. I heard you, sir.” He shook his head at the other man. “Dumb ass. If she was coming, she’d be here already. We’ve looked at every bitch in the terminal.”

“They’re pissed because one of the”—he crooked his fingers in the air—“super agents lost her.”

“And we pay for it by wasting time here.”

“Same old story.”

“Yeah, things never change.”

Susan walked on, breathing a sigh of relief. If these guys were any indication of whom they had looking for her, she might make it out of here yet. But where, and how? There was no one she could contact at the DAT. Someone there had betrayed her, and until she discovered who, the agency was off-limits. She had spent her life in the shadows, looking for those set to terrorize her world, through whatever means, on whatever planet. Lisle was one of the few friends she’d allowed herself.

The image of Lisle’s foot sticking out of the vault, shoe half-off, brought quick tears to her eyes. She banished them.
Later. Later you can cry. Now you have to think.

She spied a ladies’ room and headed for it at a leisurely pace, trying not to draw any attention. Once inside, she hurried to a stall. For a few seconds she could be alone and not worry too much that someone would shoot her.

Then someone came in. An enemy? Susan pulled out her Renthaur and held it steady, relaxing only when whoever was there began to hum and run water at the sink. Susan returned the weapon to her bag and finished her business.

She had the kernel of a plan. The DAT would have alerted shuttle-port security about her, so she couldn’t go to them for help. She’d have to go undercover after all. The trick was to find someone about her size and build. She had enough cash to purchase a ticket to Olympus III, a neutral planet where she’d left a secret stash of money, clothing, and a little apartment. There she’d have time to figure out what was happening and plan an attack. For now she needed to get off this planet, and she would accept whatever cover presented itself and play the part for as long as it took.

Stepping out of the stall, she looked at a mirrored reflection of the hummer and saw that fate had given her a break, finally. Her bathroom mate was a blonde close to her height and weight. The other woman’s breasts were smaller, and so was her waist, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Hi,” the blonde said with a hesitant smile.

“Hey,” Susan replied. She looked for something to use as a rope and gag. She didn’t want to kill the woman if it wasn’t necessary, just borrow her identity for a while.

She looked at Susan in the mirror. “You aren’t by chance on your way to M3859, are you?”

M3859 was a scrap heap of a planet in the Hodge Galaxy. “No. Why do you ask?”

“I thought it would be nice to have another woman to talk to on the trip.” She giggled, an edgy, brittle sound in the cold, tiled bathroom. “I’m going to be married, and damned if I’m just as nervous as when I first went on stage.”

Time seemed to speed up and fly by. Any moment someone could come in and her chance would be gone.
Think, McAllister, think!

“So, you’re an actress?”

“Well, I was on the
stage
.” She shrugged. “It’s all the same,” she added. Leaning toward Susan’s mirrored reflection she lowered her voice and said, “Though not to my parents in small-town Illinois.”

Outside the secure area, then, where “on the stage” could mean anything from real theatre to stripping to performing a variety of lewd acts for private clients.

There was nothing for it. Lacking something to bind the woman, Susan would have to knock her out. Unfortunately, that provided only a small window of opportunity. If she couldn’t find a shuttle scheduled to leave almost immediately, she’d be caught. Killing her outright would be safest, but murder was a last resort, and not for an innocent like this. On the other hand, if this had been Vault Man standing beside her? He’d already be bleeding out.
Your chance will come. Stay focused.

“Going on stage must be exciting.”

Seeming to calm down by talking it all out, the blonde fluffed her shoulder-length hair, checked her teeth, and pulled up the top of her halter. The elastic material stretched over her breasts, down over her ribs, and ended in the curve of her waist. Low on her hips hung a pair of jeans covered with appliqués of different flowers and vines. Some of the vines twirled suggestively up and around her thighs. Sandals completed her outfit. Where in hell was the woman’s sense of fashion?

“I really wasn’t very good at…you know, dancing and acting and stuff, so I decided to try something different. Really different.” She bit her bottom lip. “I signed up to be a Galactic Bride. I’m going to meet my new husband on M3859.”

Any man who lived there would
have
to buy a bride. No woman in her right mind would go voluntarily.

“I’ve never been farther than thirty centimes away from home before.” The woman glanced around the room conspiratorially. Lowering her voice, she said, “The agency told me the man was pretty well-to-do, but…but an
old
man. I bought something to make sure I could get his juices running. Something
special
, you know?”

What was she trying to say? Libido-enhancing drugs had been legal since the twentieth century. Susan reached into her bag. Her laser pistol fit nicely in her hand.

“But now I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. What if I get caught with the stuff? What if I hate it on M3859?” Nervousness returned in the crack of her voice and her shaking hand on the sink counter. “Am I doing the right thing?”

“I don’t know,” Susan said, withdrawing her pistol and striking the woman on the side of the head. “But I know I am.”

Working with unbelievable speed, Susan stripped the blonde and laid her in the stall beside the waste eliminator. With her arms twisted back and her hands tucked under her body, she’d be stiff and cramped when she came to and hopefully unable to move too rapidly.

In the course of removing the woman’s clothing, Susan discovered she wasn’t really a blonde at all. But thanks to the woman’s wig, Susan became one before applying a quick sweep of makeup. She pulled out her box of colored contacts and found the ones that would complete her disguise. Before venturing out of the bathroom, Susan gave herself a quick appraisal. The elastic halter clung to her breasts, making them look larger than her normal thirty-six-C cup. As she suspected, the vines climbed the jeans’ legs to end in a large pink flower appliquéd at the crotch. The blonde wig looked good. She was ready to go wherever fate was sending her.

She dug out a shuttle ticket from the woman’s pocketbook. Her name was Shanna Ziegler. Deeper in the purse she found a playbill titled
The Dancing Talent of
Danessa Vanessa
, and sure enough, the hologram on the front displayed the woman now hunched in a pile in the stall. With a stage name like that, Shanna needn’t have worried her parents would track her down, that was certain.

Susan jammed her shoulder bag into the suitcase. Carrying the pocketbook and pulling the woman’s rolling suitcase, she exited the bathroom, nearly bowling over a dark-suited Gov-man.

Criminy.