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  As Razia was dragged through the warehouse by the two guards, she noted the stacks and stacks of other shipping containers, much as she'd seen on the planet where she'd captured Cree Hardrict. But unlike on B-725425, these boxes were filled with guns, or at least some of them were—guns transferred in a faux hijacking from G-279 by Relleck, who said he had his own "special deal."

  She peered around at the dusty window, spotting the clocktower next to the presidential palace. Who would want to transport guns to the capital city, especially so close to the seat of the Universal Government? The thought made her nervous. Though she couldn't care less about the UBU, complete anarchy wouldn't help anybody.

  She glanced over at her guard, wondering how this military man could be mixed up in something illegal, when she realized with a jolt that his gray uniform wasn't that of a soldier. She could see a patch on his chest that she didn't recognize, clearly making out a double letter S.

  But the man in charge had been called Major, which meant he was a soldier. So was this a commercially owned warehouse or one owned by the military? Razia peered around to the manager's desk nearby. If there were any markings or paperwork, they might be able to tell her who owned this warehouse and what it was being used for. Anything she could use to get out of this unscathed.

  "Oy, quit looking," the guard growled at her.

  Razia cleared her throat. "Fine then. Why don't you tell me what's going on here, junior?"

  He flinched when she spoke but said nothing.

  "It's rude not to answer people," Razia replied.

  "And it's rude to invite yourself to places you are not wanted."

  Razia sat up straight, wondering why she was surprised to see the bald man from the secret pirate meeting stroll into the office. He wore the same gray uniform as the guard, who saluted him as he would a superior officer before walking out of the room. The bald man was standing closer to her than the guard had, and she could see that the stitching under his patch said Secure Solutions.

  "Well, it's rude to not invite people to things, too," Razia replied, wondering how much information she could suss out of him before she managed to get herself free. Secure Solutions—she'd have to remember that.

  He was smiling at her amusedly. "I have to admit, I am impressed by your tenacity. But you have a habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. And that has to stop."

  To prove his point, he pulled a small pistol out of his pocket.

  "How boring," Razia scoffed. "Do you really think that's going to scare me?"

  He shrugged, but the gun remained level. "I would hope it would persuade you to tell me what I want to know."

  "You know, I won't be able to tell you anything if I'm dead," she said with a smirk.

  In response, he moved the gun to point at her shoulder.

  "And I'm not going to want to tell you anything if you shoot anything less vital, either," she said. "You could, of course, try asking nicely."

  After a few moments, he re-holstered his gun. "I like you, Razia. You've got spunk."

  She chuckled. "That's what they tell me. So what do you want to know?"

  "I want to know how you got into my shipment," he said, leaning against the desk.

  "Snuck on. Wanted to know what Relleck was bragging about—and to see if I could get a cut of it."

  He cursed under his breath. "That pirate has been a pain in my ass since…"

  "I can take care of him for you," Razia said adding, "well, he'd be out of commission for a night."

  "Yes, I hear you're quite adept at finding people," he said. "So how's about a deal? In exchange for your assistance, I may consider letting you go…without shooting anything vital."

  Razia shook her head. "I never agree to a deal until I know the specifics. And it's a bit hard for me to agree to anything while tied up."

  "You help me find that other woman who infiltrated our meeting, and I will let you go," he smiled. "I'll even add a sizable bonus."

  Razia's heartbeat quickened, but her face remained stoic. "What do you know about her?"

  "Not much, I'm afraid," he said. "But she keeps showing up in places where she's not supposed to be, and we'd like to find her and…take care of her."

  "The less I know about what you're planning to do, the better," Razia said, nodding to her tied hands. "Now, if you'll untie me so I can look in my mini-computer, I should be able to find her in about five minutes."

  "I'll hold you to that," he said, stepping behind her and cutting her ties with a knife.

  Razia rubbed her wrists for a moment, assessing the situation in her head—how far he was from her, where his pistol was on his hip. How long it would take him to grab said pistol.

  Then she shot out her leg, knocking him to the floor. On instinct, she grabbed the first thing she could get her hands on, the chair she had been just tied to, and whirled it around, knocking the bald man to the floor. He lay there, motionless, and she tossed away the remnants of the wooden chair.

  The door opened just as she was running to it, and she found herself face-to-face with the barrel of a gun.

  "Oh, you got free?"

  Razia let out the breath she was holding when she saw the familiar friendly face of Lizbeth behind the gun.

  "Well shit," Lizbeth said, dropping the gun lower. "And here I was coming to rescue you."

  "Yeah, right." Razia rolled her eyes. "Let's get out of here."

  ***

  "So they don't know anything about me?" Lizbeth smiled.

  "Not even your name," Razia replied.

  They were on yet another crammed shuttle on S-864, trying to lose anyone who might have followed them. Razia had to take care of two guards at a side entrance, but other than that, it was relatively easy to sneak out of the warehouse.

  Almost too easy, Razia decided.

  "I think it's time I go deliver a report to my superiors," Lizbeth said, looking out the window into the darkness of the underground shuttle tunnel. Yet again, General State stared down at them from his campaign posters, as if the grungy shuttle car personally affronted him. "I think we've passed the realm of simple insurance fraud."

  "So you're bailing now?" Razia asked with a slight smile. "You're cool when we're shot at, but shipping guns is where you draw the line?"

  "You would be surprised how many times I've been shot at in this line of work. People get very protective over their funding streams," Lizbeth laughed. "Besides, I'm not bailing, I'm just doing a pulse check to see if I'm still in my swim lane or if we need to start a joint task force with the Universal Police."

  "Really? You want to ask for their help after what they said to you?" Razia asked, as that was the only thing she understood from that entire sentence.

  "Why not? I asked for yours after what you said to me?" Lizbeth replied coolly.

  "Touché," Razia conceded. "So is that where we're going? Your office?"

  "Well, it's past close of business now, and everyone's gone home for the day," Lizbeth said. "So I'll have to go into the office in the morning to deliver the report."

  "Yet another day of parking fees for me," Razia sighed, thinking about her ship back on D-882. She didn't even want to think about how much it was going to cost when she finally got back.

  "Oh relax!" Lizbeth laughed and stood up. "I'll make sure I submit your expense report tomorrow. In the meantime, you are welcome to come crash on my couch. Free of charge."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Lyssa woke up the next morning with a crick in her neck from sleeping on Lizbeth's couch. She heard a faraway beeping of an alarm in the other room. She wore a large, old nightshirt of Lizbeth's, and her pirate clothes were tossed haphazardly on the other couch.

  Taking advantage of the early morning sunlight, Lyssa looked around the swanky apartment. Much like Lizbeth, it was perfectly put together and just a hint of femininity. Knick-knacks and sculptures sat on wooden shelves on the walls—small details that blended into the decor seamlessly. The floors were spotless, the kitchen
gleaming. The only area that seemed out of place was the dining room table, where reams of documents and an open laptop sat. She saw a cup of cold coffee next to the laptop and realized that Lizbeth must have continued working after Lyssa had gone to sleep.

  Speaking of coffee…

  Lyssa yawned and shuffled to the kitchen. She heard Lizbeth's alarm go off again, but didn't see the other girl stirring, so she set to making the coffee in a sleepy daze. She had half fallen asleep standing next to the coffee pot when Lizbeth's alarm went off for a third time, and she set to finding a couple of cups in the gleaming cabinets.

  "Good morning, sunshine," Lyssa said, walking into Lizbeth's bedroom and placing a full cup on the nightstand.

  "Go away…want thirty more minutes…" Lizbeth groaned and rolled over. Lyssa was pleased to see that at least she didn't wake up gorgeous.

  Ignoring Lizbeth, Lyssa walked over to the closet and flung open the doors. The closet was jam-packed with clothes—some hung up but many others stuffed into shelves and exploding out of bins. On the floor, there were piles and piles of shoes.

  "What are you doing?" Lizbeth asked.

  "I need something new to wear." Lyssa dug through a pile of clothes and pulled out a black tank top. It was lower cut than she normally wore, but it would do.

  "Oh, really? I thought you wore the same thing every day," Lizbeth said, curling up under her sheets.

  "Do you have any cargo pants?" Lyssa asked, now sorting through the piles of jeans, slacks, and other different kinds of pants. She pulled out a pair made out of a black stretchy material and pursed her lips.

  "Those would look good on you," Lizbeth commented. "You have a nice butt."

  Lyssa ignored her comment and went back to searching for anything a little less…clingy, but found everything else too nice or too restricting. Even though she was accompanying Lizbeth to her office, she still needed to look something like Razia.

  She took the clothes and a fresh pair of underwear to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The bathroom was as disorganized as the closet, although the counters were covered in different colored eyeshadows, eyeliner pencils, blush, and different tinted skin cremes. There was also a faint smell of Lizbeth's perfume and shampoo, which was a mix of flowers and mint.

  Lyssa hopped in the shower, the warm water washing off the remnants of the ore smell that still hung in her nose. Lizbeth had a selection of shampoos, conditioners, and body washes and Lyssa chose the one that smelled the least fruity. After leaving the shower and drying off with the fluffiest towel this side of the Manor, she pulled on the borrowed clothes and wiped the fog off of the mirror.

  "Whoa," she whispered to herself. As opposed to the baggy black cargo pants and loose tank she normally wore, this tight outfit made her appear sleek and slim. She adjusted the waist of the pants to smooth out the curve on her hip, taking a moment to soak in the way she looked. She shook her head, wondering why she cared, and walked out of the bathroom.

  "Hey there, hot stuff," Lizbeth grinned, sitting up in bed. Her face was pale without any makeup, and her normally perfect hair was frizzed up around her ears. "You should keep those pants. They look great on you."

  "Yeah well," Lyssa said, feeling uncomfortable with the praise for her body.

  "Hey…can I put a little make-up on you?" Lizbeth asked cautiously as she slipped out of the bed. "Not a lot, but just…a little bit."

  "I don't wear makeup."

  "I know you don't. But just…a little bit."

  Lyssa hesitated, unsure what to do. She'd always been quite curious about make-up, but having grown up with her father and then Tauron, she'd never had anyone around to really show her what to do. And she often felt she'd be teased mercilessly if she tried it.

  But, she was already feeling rather pretty in Lizbeth's more girly clothes. And she wasn't bound to run into any blond, asshole pirates today.

  "…all right," Lyssa said after a few moments.

  "Sit on the toilet," Lizbeth ordered, going through her makeup.

  To Lyssa's surprise, she pulled out a pair of tweezers and began tapping them together.

  "What's that for?" Lyssa asked nervously.

  "Just…I kind of have this eyebrow thing," Lizbeth said, walking up to Lyssa. "I won't do much, but yours need a bit of shaping."

  And without another word, she climbed on top of Lyssa and straddled her on the toilet, grabbing her forehead and tilting it back.

  "Whoa!" Lyssa said, too shocked to push her off.

  "Ssh," Lizbeth said, inches from her face. "This will only take a moment."

  "I'm very uncomfortable right now," Lyssa said, her voice filled with apprehension from the intimate way this stranger was violating her personal space.

  "I don't care," Lizbeth replied, holding Lyssa's skin taunt and beginning to pluck. Lyssa winced at the sharp pain of her hair being ripped from her skin.

  "Ow!" she yelped when a particularly painful hair beneath her eyebrow was ripped out.

  "Ssh, ssh, ssh," Lizbeth said uncaringly, placing her thumb against the skin. "You're fine."

  "Do you sexually assault all your houseguests, or am I just lucky?"

  "Oh stop," Lizbeth said, before looking down at Lyssa. "You aren't gay, are you?"

  "No."

  "Well, you know, the tough girl act, wasn't sure," Lizbeth shrugged, continuing to pluck. "I mean, it's fine if you are—"

  "I'm not," Lyssa said.

  "So are you seeing anyone then?" Lizbeth asked conversationally as she plucked. "I haven't seen you with anyone or calling anyone since I met you."

  "I'm not dating anyone," Lyssa replied, wincing as another painful one came out. "I don't have time for that crap."

  "Yeah, with your attitude, I'm surprised you aren't still a virgin," Lizbeth smirked, winking at her. "It's probably more secure than the Universal Bank down there."

  "Can we not talk about this while your crotch is on mine?"

  "Fine," Lizbeth said, sitting back and giving her a tired look. "But we're not done talking about it."

  After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence and hair plucking, Lizbeth sat back and examined her handiwork.

  "Much better," she sighed, turning to grab an eyebrow pencil. "Now, hold still…"

  ***

  It was nearly two hours later when Lizbeth and Razia left the apartment. They hopped on the underground shuttle again, which was much less crowded than the day before. As Razia hung onto the pole for balance, she caught her reflection in the window and admired for a moment. Lizbeth hadn't stopped with the eyebrows and the eyeliner, but spent some time on Razia's hair as well. Razia normally only brushed it after she got out of the shower and left the rest to fate. Thanks to Lizbeth's flat iron, today it was bouncy and full of shine.

  That, plus the tight black clothes, made Razia feel gorgeous, even standing next to Lizbeth.

  Lizbeth smiled when she caught Razia watching her reflection. "See how much better you feel when you put forth a little effort?"

  "Too much effort," Razia said, quickly looking away.

  "You're a piece of work," Lizbeth sighed, but she was smiling.

  At a stop near the presidential palace, three U-POL Officers walked on, deep in conversation. Razia caught the reflection of their gold-trimmed markings before realizing one of them was the same lieutenant who had almost arrested her the year before.

  And the third one was Jukin.

  She was suddenly on edge. Lizbeth stood up straighter as well, especially when the lieutenant spotted them on the train.

  Razia's eyes met Jukin's and she wondered whom he saw. The last person he had seen was Lyssa Peate, but today she was dressed as a pirate. Razia and Jukin had never actually had a conversation, she realized, although she was sure that he was quite familiar with her, especially after the kidnapping incident last year.

  "You!" he snarled unhelpfully.

  "I have a name you know," Razia replied as casually as she could. Lizbeth didn't move to say anythin
g, continuing to glance between the two of them.

  "I'd prefer not to use it, pirate," Jukin spat.

  Razia smirked, but inside she was churning violently. He had seen both Lyssa and Razia but hadn't made the connection. Something about that hurt very deep inside of her, and it made her irrationally angry towards him.

  And again, she was reminded that it would only take one word—one small hint that she was both Razia, the hated bounty hunter, and Lyssa, the hated sister—and his entire career, his life, in fact, would be over.

  "What are you doing cavorting with criminals, Carter?" Jukin, ignorant of Razia's inner turmoil, had turned his attention to Lizbeth.

  "Well, since you were so unhelpful when I asked you for help," Lizbeth said, relaxing a little bit with a shared look to Razia, "I opted to employ someone who would get me results."

  Razia smiled and folded her arms over her chest, the inner voice increasing in volume as Jukin stood next to them. She was sure he could hear it, as loud as it was in her mind.

  "You should be careful," Jukin said with an air of superiority. "Hiring a pirate is illegal under the Piracy Act."

  "Then you'll be glad to know that I'm volunteering out of the kindness of my heart," Razia replied, struggling to stay present and not fall back into her churning mind. "But knowing that it pisses you off too, well…all the more reason for me to help out!"

  "You had better watch your tongue, pirate," the young lieutenant replied. His name tag read Opli.

  "Calm down, junior," Razia said, flashing him a grin. "I'm a card-carrying member of Dissident's web now. No need for hostage taking today."

  "Don't think I've forgotten about that," Jukin snarled.

  "Good to know you haven't forgotten about that one," Razia muttered, and the voice began roaring within her. Jukin remembered Vel being kidnapped, but couldn't seem to recall when his own sister had a gun pointed to her head. Not as if he cared then, either. "Be my guest," he had said, as if inviting Tauron to take out the garbage.

  And then the son of a bitch killed Tauron.

  The ache grew more painful and it was hard to keep her face stoic.