*** *** ***
Felice followed Kieran down the rusting metal stairs, hanging on to his hand. She wore coveralls again, and Kieran had also found her some underwear and shoes. He’d given her his breath mask, which now hung from a belt over her plain robes. He’d bought another one from a vendor in the vast marketplaces of Pas City for himself.
Hope it works,
he’d growled.
The stairs went down, down, down under the city. Felice thought she’d find coolness the deeper they went, but no. The temperature didn’t change much, and she realized that the solid rock under the sand held heat. Explained why the Bor Nargans didn’t build underground.
She tried to calm her nerves, but she couldn’t help clinging to Kieran’s hand as they went down. He was taking her to meet Rees, he said, and they had to meet him in secret.
The other Shareem hadn’t frightened Felice, not after meeting Kieran. Even Calder with his growling didn’t intimidate her. But from the way they all spoke of Rees, she knew Rees was something special. The big boss, she’d have called him in her old life.
The stairs went a long way down. This basement was abandoned, though the houses and shops above it weren’t. What it had been for once upon a time, Felice couldn’t tell.
Kieran led her across a vast empty room to a door that looked as though it hadn’t been opened in twenty years. Kieran tapped on the rusting metal, and it slid open surprisingly smoothly, not making a sound.
The room on the other side wasn’t big. Shareem lounged on furniture, the kind that could be taken apart or folded away, some stretched out full length with feet up. Women were here too, in coveralls, robes, or tunics, lying with or sitting on the laps of their Shareem. A few women sat together, talking and laughing.
The setup looked like an informal party or gathering of friends, except for the layer of tension in the air. Felice had learned, as a fighter, and later as someone who lived their life on instinct alone, how to tell when people were relaxed and happy and when they were likely to leap up and kill her.
These Shareem and their ladies didn’t look like killers, but they all zeroed in on Felice as soon as Kieran led her inside.
“Where’s Rees?” Kieran demanded as he shut the door.
“Not here yet.” A very large Shareem, about the same size as Kieran but with blond hair, lounged on a sofa, with a woman in a very short tunic snuggled into the crook of his arm. “Introductions?”
Kieran bathed the room in a hard stare. “This is Felice. She belongs to me.”
“I see that.” The blond Shareem looked pointedly at Felice’s collar. “I’m Eland, and this is Jeanne.” He laid a fond hand on Jeanne’s bare leg. “Who belongs to
me
.”
Most of the Shareem dissolved into laughter. “Which way around is it?” the one called Braden said.
The laughter reassured Felice somewhat, though they were still watching her. They were trying to decide whether to trust her, and Felice couldn’t blame them.
“Let me do the honors,” Braden said. “Kieran never will. I’m Braden—I’m usually with Elisa, but she’s at her library working her fingers off for us right now. Calder you know—his Katarina is at her clinic, which is why he looks so grumpy-assed.” His arm moved as he pointed out each Shareem in turn. “That’s Justin, with Deanna, his lover, who, believe it or not, used to be a patroller. Aiden, Ky, and their sweetie, Brianne. Brandt and his lady, Ursula. Over there, Rylan and, um, Maia.”
The last couple sat a little way from the others. Braden hadn’t stumbled, Felice realized looking at Maia, because he didn’t remember the woman’s name. He’d been debating whether or not to say it.
Maia was lovely, almost perfectly so, in a lush, sensual way. Women wouldn’t take to her, Felice thought, but men would. Definitely. When Maia glanced up at Felice, and Felice saw her blue eyes, she understood Braden’s hesitation. The woman was Shareem, the only female Shareem Felice had seen. Maybe that was a secret?
Felice didn’t have time to explore this oddity before the door opened again, and another Shareem entered with a red-haired woman and a human man Felice hadn’t seen before.
The new Shareem had presence. The others switched their focus from Felice and gave it to him.
He was tall, but then, all Shareem were. He had blond hair tamed back, much as Aiden and Eland had. He wore a knee-length tunic and the thin shoes popular in this climate—thick-soled to keep off hot sand but thin on top for airflow. A breath mask dangled from his belt, which he removed and set on a table.
The human man peeled away from him and found himself a couch to sit on, but the red-haired woman stayed with the Shareem, not moving more than an inch away at any time.
The newcomer didn’t acknowledge the attention of the other Shareem. He didn’t spread his arms and boom out,
The great Rees is here. We can begin.
He simply gave a nod to everyone, moved to a cooling cabinet and drew out a bottle of water, bringing one to his lady. She took it in graceful hands and sat down, shooting a look at Felice.
Rees downed a long swallow of water, wiped his mouth, and approached Kieran and Felice. “This is her?”
He looked at Felice, and Felice had the sudden sensation of her feet going out from under her, her head spinning. She clutched Kieran’s hand. But no, she was standing upright, unmoving. Not going anywhere.
Rees’s gaze wouldn’t let Felice look away. He had Shareem-blue eyes, but they were a little different from the others. They sucked Felice in, captured her, held her. Whatever magic Shareem possessed to calm the fears of the women they seduced, Rees had it by the bucketful.
No wonder Kieran considered Rees dangerous. Kieran hadn’t actually said so, but Felice could read the subtext. She read it in the other Shareem and the women now. As laid back as he seemed to be, Rees had control of everyone in the room.
“Her name is Felice,” Kieran growled.
“I know.” Rees’s gaze became even harder, the blue of his eyes widening, but not because he was aroused. Felice had the feeling that those scientists at DNAmo who’d made him had been afraid of him. They must have wondered what they’d created.
Felice had learned a long time ago, though, about intimidation, and how to countermand it. Rees was damned intimidating, but Felice had faced many opponents who’d scared the hell out of her, and she’d fought them anyway. Sometimes, she’d even won.
She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, met Rees’s gaze straight on, then deliberately looked away, as though she’d taken his measure and was ready to move on.
From the corner of her eye, Felice saw Rees’s start, then felt his stare again, reassessing her.
He would have gone on this way, in silence, but Kieran stepped in front of Felice, blocking Rees’s view of her. “I’m vouching for her, all right?” Kieran said. “Can we get on with it?”
The red-haired woman rose and joined them. “Kieran’s right, love. We have a lot to discuss.”
Big bad Rees turned a look on the woman that was so soft, so loving, that Felice wanted to laugh in relief. Rees clearly loved her, would do anything for her. The woman returned the look, far gone in love with her Shareem, but not so far gone that she was his drooling slave. She wouldn’t let him get away with anything, Felice saw.
“I’m Talan,” the woman said, speaking directly to her. “Come and sit with me, Felice.”
Kieran didn’t want to let go of Felice’s hand. Talan herself pried his big fingers open, then she slipped her small hand in the crook of Felice’s arm and led her way.
Not far—they sat down on a sofa near where Rees had laid his breath mask and Talan had shucked her robes.
“We have a problem,” Rees said without preliminary. He didn’t call for attention or clear his throat, but the others shut up and listened. “The patrollers are all over the dockyards. Mitch says he was stopped three times on his way in, questioned about Shareem and about a runaway indentured worker. They’re searching for Felice, and Kieran’s fight focused too much attention on us. So we need to back off and rethink our plans. And now Kieran has decided to bring Felice in on it.” Rees turned again to Felice. “If that’s the case, I want to know all about you, Felice. I want to know who you are, what you want, and why you think we should trust you.”
Chapter Eleven
Kieran had to stop himself from tackling Rees and demanding he leave Felice alone. If Kieran said she could be trusted, she could be trusted. That should be enough for everyone.
He also knew Rees would never take his word for it. Kieran was the messed-up Shareem, good at sex and nothing else. He’d never understand something as complicated as the problem of getting all Shareem off Bor Narga, at least in Rees’s view.
Kieran had decided he didn’t need to hear Felice’s life story. It was enough that she was here, with him. Would leave with him and be safe. After that . . .
Kieran didn’t want to think about after that. He didn’t want the past or the future. He wanted
now
.
He walked past Rees, went to Felice, and sat down next to her. He took up most of the room on the sofa, forcing Talan to scoot over. Talan did this with good grace, looking indulgent rather than offended.
Kieran put his arm around Felice, letting his Shareem pheromones soothe her. Felice gave him a grateful look, took a deep breath, and began.
“I’m a
dojokuner.
”
Felice stopped, as though waiting for their reaction, but the Shareem looked blank. Aiden asked, “A
dojo
-what?”
His lady Brianne sat forward and said, “Oh, wait. I’ve heard of those. Specially trained fighters who do exhibitions all over the galaxies. Very
expensive
exhibitions.”
“Not just exhibitions,” Felice said. “True prize fights on colonies and stations where it’s legal. A lot of money exchanges hands.
Dojokuners
are elite, sought after, and anyone who runs them has to be very rich to start with. Like racehorses.” Felice glanced around, saw more blank looks, and explained. “On Old Earth, we have running animals called horses, and the very best of them, the thoroughbreds, race for the highest stakes.
Dojokuners
are like that. They grew out of a tradition on Earth’s first space colony, RJ-57—I guess bored colonists started the matches, and then it became a famous sport. Kind of a cross between martial arts and boxing. Anyway, my family moved to RJ-57 when I was young, and I started taking lessons, then I got really good. I signed a contract with a trainer for a boatload of money, and my career took off.”
Kieran imagined her, proud and happy, ready to begin her life. “You’re young
now
,” he pointed out. “How old were you?”
“About fourteen,” Felice said. “I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I only saw the glamour. It’s a whirlwind of money and fame, and I thought I wanted that.”
“That’s a long way from being an indentured servant on a cargo ship,” Rees said. He spoke patiently, without inflection as he watched her.
“No sport escapes corruption,” Felice said with a wry smile. “And
dojokuners
, though we practiced clean living and good health, attract so much money that corruption is inevitable. We started being asked to throw fights or stage them so certain gamblers could make a fortune. My trainer knew some shady people, I found out the hard way. I loved to fight, but I learned quickly that it could be a racket.”
“What happened?” Rees asked. “Something significant, I take it.”
Felice nodded. “My best friend was a woman called Valerie—Val. She was really good, better than me. We got pitted together a lot, and we always fought fair. She beat me most of the time.” Felice smiled in true fondness. “One day, when we were on station 929, which basically is a gambling port, our trainer said he’d put us into a championship match. He took me aside and told me I had to win. I laughed and said Val was hard to beat, and then he gave me the tiniest needle I ever saw. He said all I had to do was get close to her, inject her, and I’d win. It scared me, but I all the sudden understood he wasn’t going to let me say no, that he would threaten me and Val if he had to. I saw it in his eyes. I took the needle, then I went to a pharmacist and asked what was in it. Basically, it was a drug that would not only knock Val out, but kill her.”
The other Shareem were listening, hanging on her every word, as were the ladies. Kieran saw the anger in them, the indignation and understanding. Kieran’s own rage topped theirs—no wonder Felice looked so scared and sad. She’d begun her life with hope, and some asshole had dashed all that hope to pieces.
Kieran was too angry to speak. Talan said around him, “Oh, you poor thing. That’s terrible.”
“I told Val,” Felice said. She gave a shiver, and Kieran ran his hand along her arm, wanting to soothe her. “She was my best friend. I didn’t know what to do. Val suggested we stage the match ourselves, letting me win. I hated to do that, but it was better than me killing her.”
Felice blinked a few times, her anguish coming to Kieran full force. He put both arms around her and drew her close. “It’s all right, baby,” he said, and kissed her hair.
Felice took another calming breath. “So we threw the match,” she said. “Val went down, and I won. And then we learned the whole truth—the bet had been that I was such a good
dojokuner
that I could kill with my bare hands. Everyone had expected a death match. Our trainer lost a shitload of money, and he told Val and me that we had to pay it back.”