Barb took it, removed her silver-buckled, plain black belt, and threaded the borrowed one through the belt loops of her pants. She fastened the buckle. “Next?” she asked.

  Taya gave her a variety of irritating bangles and wristbands. She put them on her left hand, refusing to wear them on her right and risk catching one of them on something when drawing her sidearm. Next came a jacket. Dark red leather—at least where the color hadn’t been faded or battered away. The thing looked like an ore carrier had run it down and reversed over it several times. It had such a gratuitous number of studs, zippers, and buckles, it was one more metal fastener away from fetish wear.

  “Is this going to fit? You’re a lot shorter than me.” Barb tried it anyway. “It’s a bit short in the waist.”

  “All the better to see your ass with. I mean, more clearance for your sidearm,” she added when Barb scowled at her. “Here.” Taya handed her one last thing.

  “Sunglasses?” Barb stared at the black-lensed glasses dubiously. “We’re going to be indoors. You want me to be blind?”

  “Try them,” Taya said.

  Barb did and was astonished to find herself looking through crystal clear lenses. In fact, the surroundings appeared brighter than when she had the glasses off.

  “I heard about these,” she said, enthusiasm coming into her voice for the first time. “Look like ordinary sunglasses, but they’re night vision. They’re not standard issue yet.”

  “They aren’t full night vision,” Taya said. “But in lower light situations like a bar, they’ll give you almost the same vision you’d have in the day. From this side, they’re so dark, I can barely see your eyes. Which means you can watch without being seen. Perfect for a bodyguard.”

  “Bodyguard?”

  “Yeah, since you look like such a stiff and so obviously military, you can pretend to be my big, strong, ex-soldier watch dog.”

  “All right. Are you done making me look ridiculous?”

  “You look fabulous, darling,” Taya drawled. “Your hair is a bit too regulation, though. How about a hat?”

  “I hate wearing hats.”

  “Okay, muss it a bit.”

  Muss it? Her hair? Aside from the few minutes after she got out of bed in the morning, her hair hadn’t been mussed in years. Tentatively, she ran a hand through it to loosen it up a bit. “Better?”

  “No. Oh, for…I swear in the name of Old Mother Russia, you are going to get us shot on sight. Come here, will you?”

  Before Barb could protest, Taya had homed in on, pulled out, and tossed away a couple of hair pins. She threaded her fingers through the hair on each side of Barb’s head and ruffled it.

  “I don’t want to look like I just fell out of bed,” Barb protested.

  “Why not? I bet you look great right after you fall out of bed.”

  Was she flirting? Hardly appropriate on a mission.

  “There,” Taya said, grabbing Barb’s arm and turning her to look at a mirror on the wall.

  Taya was certainly pretty grabby. If a man put his hands on Barb so much, she’d drop him with a knee to the balls. She examined the result of Taya’s impromptu makeover critically. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. At least she wasn’t flashing a view of her cleavage, and the colors were all still quite muted. The hair made her itch to comb it down again, but it was only fluffed out, not actual bedhead like Taya’s. Not so different than she’d style it for a date. Though it had been so long since she’d gone on one of those, she could barely recall how she’d worn her hair.

  The glasses she liked, giving her a blank shark-eyed stare which kept people away and intimidated suspects.

  All in all, she looked like a highly suspicious character—as Taya did. A cop would arrest them on general principles. Good. That was perfect for this job. She turned from the mirror, pushing the sunglasses up on her head. Taya handed her a sidearm in a holster she could clip to her belt.

  “We can’t let you use your service weapon,” Taya said. “This is one of my spares.”

  It wasn’t quite as big and flashy as the for-show-only pistol on Taya’s hip. It wasn’t as small as the concealed one Taya had drawn earlier. It was a mark 7 plasma pistol, from a no-name, knock-off manufacturer. The kind of cheap tat an independent trader might carry. The kind of cheap tat liable to blow up in the wielder’s hand.

  “It’s a Morton and Tashiki,” Taya said, naming one of the top weapons manufacturers. A supplier of weapons to the military of many worlds. “It’s mocked up to look like a piece of shit someone like me could afford.”

  Part of the image again. Barb checked over the weapon. Fully powered. Safety on. She put it back in the holster and clipped that to her belt.

  “Ready?” Taya asked.

  “Ready.”

  They left the ship and secured the hatch. As they walked through the port, Barb asked, “So, you swear by Mother Russia. You actually are Russian?”

  “My family, yes. Why? That surprises you?”

  “I thought your name might be a cover. You don’t come across very Russian. You’re not as…dour as I’d expect.”

  “I’m from a line of people exiled for laughing too much. Funny, I was going to say something similar. You don’t come over as Lawrentian.”

  Barb stiffened. “Really? How come?”

  “For one thing, you’re an officer.”

  “And so is Colonel Locke. Maybe we need to stay focused on what we’re here to do.”

  * * * *

  “We’re gonna have to drink with this guy,” Taya said as they approached the bar. “So take this.” She handed Barb a capsule.

  Barb eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”

  “It’s a blunter.”

  “I’ll bite. It’s what?”

  “A blunter. Take it, and for the next two hours, it will neutralize any alcohol you drink. Blunting your drinks, see, opposite of spiking them.”

  “I never heard of them.”

  “Undercover stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

  Barb shot Taya a dirty look and raised the capsule to her mouth, but Taya grabbed her wrist.

  “Not yet. The guy could be late, and it only lasts a couple of hours at most.”

  “I can’t take another one?”

  “It’s only recommended to take one in any twelve-hour period. I took two together once, and they made me so sober, I could see in the ultraviolet for three days.”

  Barb rolled her eyes, but secreted the pill in a tiny pocket in her pants. They walked into the bar. Taya passed the bouncers some creds not to search them. Oh, great, that kind of place.

  It was noisy, stuffy, and smelly inside. Precisely the kind of place Barb hated and entered only on business. They grabbed a couple of drinks from the bar and took a table to wait. Men approached a couple of times, and Barb gave them the shark stare through the dark glasses. Taya smiled at them. Most wandered off in confusion after a couple of minutes at the mixed signals.

  “Here he is,” Taya said. “Fat guy, blue shirt, just came in.” She was sitting with her back to the door but had a mirror in sight.

  Barb clocked the man Taya meant. He wore a new, black leather jacket and a sky blue shirt. Not so much a pirate, more a desk jockey trying to look cool. He went to the bar. Taya nodded to Barb, and they abandoned their untouched drinks on the table. Barb dug out the blunter capsule and dry-swallowed it. It tasted acrid on her tongue, but the taste quickly vanished. The thing had better work.

  “Dmitri,” Taya said, slapping him on his leather-jacketed back. “You old rogue. Great to see you again.”

  He jumped about a foot and leaned close to her. “You shouldn’t use my name.”

  “Oh, nobody cares. Hey, did I have Peaches with me last time?”

  Dmitri gave Barb a look warring between nervousness and appreciation. “Um, no. Is that her name? Peaches?”

  “Barb,” Barb snapped. She had a cover identity, but retained the first name. Better for someone inexperienced in the field, Taya had said.

  “Oh. Ah, hi.”

  “She’s my bodyguard,” Taya said. “I don’t have to tell you how hairy things can get around here. You gonna stand there all night, or are you going to buy us a drink?”

  He did, and they found a table in a quiet corner. Barb made sure she had a clear line of sight to the door. Playing the bodyguard, she spent the time watching, while Taya negotiated with Dmitri. He worked in customs inspection, so was obviously a useful guy for a smuggler to have in her pocket. And as well as making sure smuggled goods got on and off the orbital, he set up meetings like the one they wanted.

  “We’re going to need a demo of the goods,” Taya said, after schmoozing and shooting the breeze with the guy for nearly an hour. She’d downed several drinks. Her drunk acting was damn good. If she didn’t know Taya had taken the blunter, Barb would have sworn Taya was several sheets to the wind. “Not buying it sight unseen. And no damn bait and switch crap either. One time I bought twenty cases of fucking rocks. Made that bastard pay when I caught up to him.” Taya made a gun gesture with her hand, pointed a finger, and made a “pew” sound.

  “No, no, honey,” Dmitri said soothingly, pawing at her arm.

  Barb considered making him keep his hands to himself. She downed half the whisky and soda she had in front of her and regretted she wasn’t getting any benefit from it. Watching this guy stare down Taya’s cleavage for an hour and paw her was galling. Taya didn’t seem to mind. Maybe it was all part of the job for her. That made it even more galling. Why the fuck should she have to put up with it? Barb would bet male agents didn’t.

  “This guy is legit,” Dmitri said. “I mean as legit as legit comes. You’ll get what you want.”

  “Want a demo,” Taya insisted.

  Barb approved. If Locke showed up for the demo with stolen weapons in his possession, they might never have to get the cash Taya wanted her to procure for the buy.

  “Okay, okay,” Dmitri said. He looked at the time. “Shit. I have to go.” He drank the last of his drink. “I’ll set up the demo.”

  “Soon. Get us the demo tomorrow, and I’ll add ten percent to your fee.”

  “Right. You’ll hear from me.” He leaned in and kissed Taya on the cheek. “Great to see you again.” His hand moved across like he was going to cop a feel of her breasts. Barb grabbed his wrist, tight. “Ow! What the fuck?”

  “Say goodnight,” Barb said.

  Dmitri pulled his hand away and jumped up, scowling. “I don’t like your friend,” he told Taya.

  “Me neither,” Taya said, grinning a bit lopsidedly. “But she can kill a guy using only her thumb, so she’s handy to have around.”

  Dmitri gave Barb a nervous look, grabbed his leather jacket, and hurried off. Barb waited until he was out of the door and definitely gone, before she turned back to Taya.

  “I guess we’d better—what the hell?”

  Taya had one elbow resting on the table, her head supported in her hand, eyes closed.

  “Borovsky, are you okay?” Barb poked her in the arm and Taya’s elbow slipped off the table. Taya jerked up and looked at Barb quizzically.

  “Hey, Peaches. What’s up?” Her voice was slurred.

  “You can drop the act. He’s gone.”

  “Act?”

  Barb stared at her. Oh, for fuck’s sake. “You are actually drunk?”

  “Can we go home? I feel kinda funny.”

  * * * *

  “What happened to your blunter?” Barb asked as she hauled the stumbling Taya along.

  “You’ve got it.”

  “What?”

  “I was gonna wear that jacket. It’s in one of the pockets.”

  Barb felt in the ones on the side.

  “Nah, one of the secret pockets. Anyway, I forgot.”

  “So why didn’t you say something?”

  “Kinda tricksy to do that in front of Demi…Demit…the contact.”

  “We could have gone to the bathroom.”

  “Both of us together?”

  “It’s not unknown for women to double team the bathroom. Especially if I’m meant to be your bodyguard.” Barb clicked her tongue as they reached the ship. So ridiculous. She steered Taya carefully up the ramp, fiddled with the lock, and the hatch slid open.

  “What does it matter anyway?” Taya said. “I got us the demo, didn’t I? I could handle it.” She drew herself up to her full height of not-very-tall. “I am a professional.” She turned to the open hatch and fell over the coving into the ship. “Shit!”

  Barb sighed and stepped inside. She shoved Taya’s boots off the door frame with her foot and closed the hatch. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” Taya rolled onto her back. “I meant to do that.” She gazed up at Barb. “You’re very tall.”

  “You’re on the floor.”

  “I like tall women. Puts my face close to the best bits.”

  For crying out loud.

  “I’m not putting you to bed,” Barb warned. “Get your ass there yourself.”

  “Ooh, tough talking. Sexy.”

  Barb left her there, took off her jacket, and tossed it into the tiny bunk room. Technically, they could both sleep in there, since there was an extra bunk which could be unfolded from the wall. But she didn’t fancy sharing a tiny bunk room with a drunk.

  “I’ll sleep in the cockpit,” she said. The chairs reclined and she was a soldier. She could sleep anywhere. She headed in there, fired up her portable terminal, and settled down to read for a while. In the back of the ship, she heard Taya crashing about and swearing.

  After half an hour, Taya appeared in the cockpit door. She wore a short robe, her feet were bare, and she was drinking something fizzy. Barb hoped it was not more alcohol.

  “You don’t have to stay out here,” Taya said. Her voice sounded a little less slurred. “Honestly. I don’t snore or anything, even when I’m drunk.”

  “I’m fine,” Barb said.

  “Mmm.” Taya grinned. She raised her glass as if in tribute. “Damn fine.”

  “Go to bed,” Barb said, looking at her terminal again.

  “Come with me.”

  Barb looked up, startled. At the serious look on Taya’s face and tone in her voice. “What?”

  “Come to bed with me. Have some fun. You could use some fun.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re on a mission here.”

  Taya smirked and Barb wondered if she should have come up with a better reason for saying no. Like ‘I don’t fancy you.’ But that would be a total lie. Taya might be mildly ridiculous in her smuggler-chic outfit. But in the silky robe she wore, which showed off a lot of chest and legs, she was as enticing as a peach.

  “We’re only going to be working together a couple of days,” Taya said. “Then we’ll never see each other again.”

  Barb didn’t answer. She thought about it. She couldn’t deny she thought about it. Taya was cute and willing, and they were only on a three-day adventure together. It had been a few months since Barb had been with anyone. She wasn’t seriously considering it, because it would make her as unprofessional as it was possible to be. But she was certainly thinking about it.

  “No. You’re drunk anyway.”

  “That’s your fault for going off with my blunter.” Taya sighed. “Okay, Peaches. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Give how poorly fastened Taya’s robe was, Barb had a pretty good idea and she was barely missing it. She looked away hastily.

  “If you’re going to have such a stick up the ass about the mission, then maybe when it’s over we could, I dunno, have a little private goodbye party,” Taya suggested.

  “Maybe.”

  The maybe mollified Taya and she grinned. “Knew you couldn’t resist. Okay, see you in the morning.” She whirled away, making her robe fly and reveal a tad too much. Probably entirely deliberately. But it still made Barb want to change her mind and follow Taya to the bunk room.

  Barb resisted the urge, despite the feeling of heat and heaviness tingling inside her. Taya was an undercover operative. Seduction was part of her skill set. Maybe she was simply practicing those skills on Barb—keeping them sharp. The thought made Barb scowl. She put aside her terminal, ordered the computer to dim the lights, and closed her eyes. Forget about Taya and her games.

  Chapter 3

  “Do you still have the gun I gave you?”

  Barb looked up from sipping her coffee at the tiny table by the galley. Taya, showered and dressed, stood in the doorway from the bunk room. Her hair was still damp, she wore no makeup, and her eyes were red and dark-circled.

  “Yes, I’ve still got the gun,” Barb said.

  “Then if you have any compassion in your heart, shoot me.”

  “A little hung over, are we?” Barb poured another cup of coffee and placed it in front of Taya when she sat at the table and put her head on her hands.

  “No, we are not a little hung over. I, on the other hand, am more hung over than Rasputin the day after a milestone birthday.” She sipped the coffee and grimaced. “Ow, fuck me. What was I drinking?”

  “Whisky.”

  “That’s where I went wrong, drinking that Celtic witch’s brew. Next time I’ll stick to vodka, like Mother used to make.”

  Barb doubted the whisky they’d drunk the night before had come from Scotland or Ireland, or indeed Earth, but she didn’t argue. “Do you want anything to eat?”

  Taya scowled through her damp bangs. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Suit yourself. You’ve got two and a half hours to get it together. Dmitri left a message. We’ve got an appointment for a demo.”

  This cheered Taya marginally. “Do we know if Locke will be there?”

  “Unknown. If no money is changing hands yet then probably not. So we get through this and set up the sale. Which is when he’ll show if your theory holds up.”

  Taya nodded, taking a few gulps of the hot coffee and perking up noticeably. “Where’s the meet?”

  “Down on the planet. I have the coordinates, and the course is programmed in.”

  Taya looked disgruntled. Maybe she didn’t like anyone else programming her ride. “Okay. Then I’m going to have a nap. Wake me up when we’re leaving.” She took the coffee with her to the bunk room. At the door, she turned back, puzzled. “You didn’t sleep in here last night. How come?”

 

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