“How many cakes?”
“Oh hell, you’re making breakfast cakes? As many as you can fit on a plate, that’s how many.”
Jeret laughed. “Coming right up.”
Dagan was quiet for a moment before suddenly letting out a laugh that was suspicious. Jeret glanced back at him, immediately wary at the expression of glee and pride on his face.
“Oh, I don’t like that look at all. What?”
Dagan tried to wipe the grin off his face and failed. “Well, I might have just had an idea to get us into the mines completely unnoticed. Well, not unnoticed actually, but unidentified for sure.”
Jeret tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “Now, see, that sounds promising, but then there’s that grin. It might have been a long time, Dagan, but I do recall how you look when you’re up to no damn good.”
“I was just looking at you, that’s all. You, well, you’re so slim and your hips have this curve.”
“Is this going to lead to sex?”
Dagan laughed. “No. Maybe, but no, not really. I was just noticing your shape. There’s a bit of feminine in your curves, Jadi.”
Jeret didn’t know whether to be offended or flattered. So he went with neither. “Your point?”
“My point is, somebody might recognize Jadikira the runaway prince and his former guard. No one is going to recognize or even notice a working girl and her pimp at the mines.”
Jeret didn’t even have words for what went through his head. “You are out of your mind.”
* * *
“Come out. Jadi, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Dagan was having the hardest time keeping the laughter out of his voice. If Jadi thought for a second he was being laughed at, he’d never come out and he certainly wouldn’t go through with the plan. And it was a good plan, despite the humor of it and despite Jadi’s reservations.
He’d made a quick run to a nearby market and found some used clothes and a bit of makeup. He had no idea what a girl needed to become, well, girly, but he hoped he’d gotten enough to transform a prince into a harlot.
“I hate you.”
Dagan smothered a chuckle. “I know. Come out.”
A heavy, irritated sigh came from behind the cabin door before it slid open and Jadi stepped out. Except it wasn’t Jadi and all inclination to laugh was gone in an instant.
The dress clung to curves a man shouldn’t have. He’d used some kind of filler to enhance his natural curves, especially up top where suddenly a pair of breasts filled out the bodice of the dress. There was no telltale bulge between his thighs and Dagan winced inwardly at what must be going on down there to keep it hidden away. No, definitely no laughing now.
Jadi’s long legs were bare and exposed, the hairless skin smooth as silk. Wow. He’d also done something to his hair so that the curls no longer seemed the tousled mess of a young man, but softer, like he’d just rolled out of bed and had just had a man’s hands in his hair. It was beyond sexy. Some dark makeup smudged around his already extraordinary eyes and his mouth... Fuck, his mouth was crimson and delicious and Dagan would sell his soul for a taste.
“Holy shit. Jadi, that’s...” He didn’t know the words.
Jadi just glared at him. “I swear to God if you ever tell Torin and Rain how we got into the mine offices, I will make your cock disappear too. With a really sharp fucking knife.”
Dagan winced, then chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I swear, not a word. But goddamn, Jadi, you look amazing. I wouldn’t ever guess. Wow.”
Jadi wrinkled his nose. “You think? The heels are terrible. How the hell do women walk in them? Why do they walk in them? I’d refuse if I were a girl.” He held one slender leg out to show the vibrant red boot that clung to his calf, the heel adding at least four inches to Jadi’s height.
All Dagan could see was legs for days and miles of gorgeous, golden skin. “No one will be looking at your shoes, I promise.”
“What are you wearing?”
Dagan glanced down, then back up. “This. Why?”
Jadi rolled his eyes. “Well, Jesus, Dagan, if we’re going to be undercover, shouldn’t you have a disguise too?”
“Oh believe me, no one is gonna be looking at me any more than they’ll be looking at your shoes.” It was an ingenious idea, if he did say so himself. Draw attention rather than trying to sneak and hide, and yet the attention drawn wouldn’t give them away. “I’d kiss you, but I’d hate to smudge your makeup.”
“Again, have I mentioned I hate you?”
Dagan grinned. “A couple of times, yeah. Irrelevant and untrue. Come on, we have work to do.” He grabbed a couple of miniature memory sticks and handed one to Jadi, who tucked it into his bodice. Even though he knew there was nothing but filler in there, Dagan caught himself trying to catch a glimpse anyway. Jadi just rolled his heavily made-up eyes.
“Pig.”
“Guilty.” He tucked a gun into the back of his pants and tugged his jacket over it. For Jadi, he grabbed a little pistol with a thigh strap. “Pull your skirt up.”
Jadi scoffed. “You wish.”
“Don’t I? Come on, I gotta strap this on.” Of course, Jadi could have strapped it on himself, but Dagan wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to get his hands on those pretty legs. It was amazing what a difference a lack of body hair made. He still couldn’t get over how total the transformation was.
Jadi hesitated, then lifted one leg to prop on the seat of the chair, drawing the hem of the already short skirt higher. Dagan sank to his knees and tried very hard to remind himself that this couldn’t turn into sex. Lord it was difficult, though, as he slid his hands up Jadi’s leg, fingers skimming the sensitive flesh of his inner thigh before he wrapped the soft, supple leather strap there and secured it.
He didn’t move for a long moment, fingers stroking Jadi’s skin, glancing up at him to find the young man’s eyes hooded and sultry. Christ. He made himself slip the little pistol into the holster and pulled away to stand up. He gestured as he cleared his throat. “You, uh, you can put your skirt back down.”
Jadi smirked at him, glancing down as his hands trailed the length of his thigh. “I don’t know, you seemed to like the view.”
“Brat. Let’s go.” He turned away and Jadi’s laughter followed him as he headed for the door. The click of heels told him the prince was following him. Trouble walking, that’s what he was. Dagan only hoped trouble would find a way to behave long enough to get them the information they needed.
* * *
“Now listen, the supervisor’s name is Jaime Gren.” Dagan handed him a flask. “Whatever you do, convince him to drink. Don’t have any yourself. It’ll knock him out almost instantly. Then just copy his hard drive and get the hell out of there. Got it?”
Jeret nodded, tucking the flask into his boot. His heart was racing but not from fear. More from just excitement. He got left behind a lot on missions, first because he’d been too young and then because they’d needed someone who could fly them out in a scrape, since Rain always went with Torin. So this was the first time in a long time that he’d been not just involved in a mission, but right in the thick of it, making it happen. It was pretty fucking exciting.
“I can do it, stop worrying.”
“Just...if he tries to get handsy before drinking, be careful. I’ll be right outside.”
It was kind of sweet that Dagan was worried. Annoying at the same time, but sweet. “I’m not helpless, you know. I think I can handle a gropey middle management slug. Thanks for the concern though.”
Dagan sighed. “Fine, but remember a lot is riding on this.”
“You think I don’t know that? It’s my life on the line too. You could remember that every now and then.” Jeret climbed out of the transport Dagan had procured for them, glancing up at the high w
alls of the mining facility just outside town. He’d only been here once before, on a tour with his father when he was thirteen. His dad had been insistent that Jeret learn all about the ins and outs of the planet’s economy, and gradium was the main resource Hadrian produced. He imagined this wasn’t what his father had had in mind at all when he’d told Jeret to pay attention because someday he’d need this information.
Jeret led the way, Dagan following a foot or so behind him. Jeret had actually assumed Dagan would walk ahead, but then Dagan had explained the working girls always took the lead because that way their guards/pimps could see them and their surroundings at all time. If the girls walked behind, someone might snatch them while the guard’s back was turned.
So it was Jeret who strode confidently up to the guard’s booth, putting extra slink in his walk and a seductive smile—or as close as he could get to one—on his painted lips. “Gentlemen. I’m here for a Mr. Gren?”
Both guards glanced at each other, in surprise and then amusement. “Aw, well that’s a shame, miss. Jaime sure don’t deserve the likes of you.”
Jeret tried not to show his impatience, instead just smiling and going for the demure, yet sexy vibe. “You’re very sweet. But is he in? I really must see him to...discuss business.”
That got a round of cackles and one of the guards smirked, turning to press a buzzer that caused the entrance door to spring open. “Go on in, first office on your right at the top of the first set of stairs. Your friend has to wait here though.”
Jeret’s eyes widened slightly and Dagan stepped up close behind him to put one hand on Jeret’s shoulder. Jeret gave the two a sultry smile—or what he hoped was sultry, it wasn’t like he had a lot of practice with being a whore, or a woman for that matter. “Um, I’m afraid that’s not possible, gentlemen. But I assure you he won’t go any farther than the bottom of the stairs, how’s that?” There was a moment of tension before finally the second guard waved them through.
“Yeah that’s fine, go on ahead.”
Jeret gave him a grateful smile and glanced at Dagan over his shoulder before they headed through the door.
It was chaos inside, mostly noise setting his teeth on edge. He glanced to his right at the steel stairs leading up to a row of offices that overlooked the main area of the facility. Dagan put a hand on his shoulder again, drawing his attention. Their eyes met and Dagan glanced up the stairs.
“Be careful. Once he’s out, give me some kind of a signal. I’m coming in at the five-minute mark regardless, so do your thing.”
His thing. As if this was even remotely his thing. But Jeret took a deep breath and started up the stairs.
“Hey.”
Jeret glanced back at the sound of Dagan’s voice. “What?”
Dagan’s grin was lurid. “Can we keep the boots?”
Jeret tried to hide it, but was smiling as he turned back and kept going up the stairs. Dagan’s teasing comment had the desired effect and Jeret wasn’t nervous anymore. He was pumped. This was the first big move of their job and a lot hinged on it. If there was smuggling happening, there’d be record of it here, whether the supervisor was in on it or not. A trail was a trail even if no one else had noticed it. They’d find it.
At the office door, Jeret fluffed his curls and eased the edge of his skirt a little bit higher. Christ, he had no idea how the ladyboys did it. He thought his dick was going to fall off every time he moved. At least he’d known how to tuck it properly, thanks to an enlightening conversation with Neith once upon a time. Neith had been a captive at a brothel for a while once and had apparently learned all sorts of things. Some he never spoke of, obviously, but others he’d become able to talk about more. His tales of the boys who became girls for a certain demographic of customer had fascinated Jeret. Now he was glad he’d paid attention.
This was it. He glanced back down the stairs to see Dagan watching him, along with a cluster of workers who’d apparently taken notice as well. Jeret tried not to get too nervous about that. They’d expected people to notice him. As long as no one recognized him, or Dagan, they were okay.
He didn’t knock, instead he strode right into the supervisor’s office and shut the door behind him. The man behind the desk nearly fell out of his seat in his haste to straighten up. He was an enormous man, to the point that Jeret wondered how he even managed to fit in between the arms of his chair. He practically spilled over.
“Who are you? Can I help you?”
Jeret ignored his revulsion and gave Mr. Gren as seductive a smile as he could manage. “Actually, I’m here to help you.” His hips swayed as he moved ahead and leaned forward across the desk, elbows propped on the pile of papers the man had strewn across the surface. “My name’s Kira. The administrator sent me as...as a sort of bonus. He’s very pleased with the job you’re doing.” Jeret reached out and stroked one fingertip down the man’s pale, quivering cheek. “And he gave me this for you, as well.” He stood then, lifting one leg to prop on the edge of the desk, giving the man a good view as he pulled the flask out of his boot. He set it in front of Mr. Gren. “Why don’t you taste that while I lock the door? Then you can taste me.”
He turned away, wrinkling his nose now that he could. He crossed to the door and flipped the lock before turning around and leaning back against it. The man had the flask in his hand, but was staring at Jeret instead of taking a drink. Shit.
“Something wrong, sugar?” he asked, licking his lips as he trailed his fingers down his side in the slinky dress.
Mr. Gren relaxed a little as a grin spread across his face. “Not at all. It’s about time those assholes recognized the job I’m doing down here in the pits.”
Jeret smiled and began to cross the room in slow steps, giving plenty of time for the guy to take a drink. Except he didn’t. Jeret’s heart started to race. He didn’t want to have to resort to the gun; it’d draw the guards before he could manage to copy everything they needed. So he’d just have to bluff a little and hope Dagan didn’t come busting through the door too soon.
“Don’t you like to drink, sugar? From what I was told, that’s the best Ferenian whiskey available.” Not really, but it wouldn’t matter once he took a drink and passed out. Please take a drink.
“I like pretty girls better.” The man’s smile slithered down Jeret’s spine and he hid the shudder. “And I like pretty girls on their knees best. C’mere, pretty girl.”
Oh Jesus. So gross. But Jeret smiled and came closer, since finally Gren was unscrewing the top of the flask. Thank Christ. He had no idea how long it’d been and prayed Dagan would be just a little bit patient. He almost had this guy. Just as Gren was about to sniff the flask contents, Jeret hurried and sank to his knees in front of him, hands on the man’s thighs. Ugh.
But it worked, Gren grinned and reached one hand down to begin yanking open his pants while taking a swig on the flask at the same time. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s see how tal...en...” His words dropped off as, almost instantly just like Dagan had said, he passed out.
Jeret sucked in a deep breath, shoving to his feet. If that man’s cock had come out, he might have thrown up all over it. Christ. He stumbled in the heels a bit as he hurried over to the window and flickered the blinds a bit as a signal to Dagan. Less than thirty seconds later, Dagan was slipping into the office.
“What the hell took so long? I was...” Dagan went silent as he got a glimpse of Gren behind the desk, pants open. His gaze snapped to Jeret. “Did he...?” There was killing fury in his eyes and Jeret knew if he said yes, Gren would be dead before they left the office.
He placed a hand on Dagan’s arm, the muscles tense. “No. He started to open his pants as he took the drink. That’s as far as it got.”
Dagan’s jaw clenched and for a second he looked like he might still slaughter the guy, before he inhaled sharply. “Let’s get what we need, then, and get t
he hell out of here.”
* * *
Dagan shoved the chair with Gren in it over to face the corner, because if he had to keep seeing that fat fuck with his pants open he might end up killing the bastard anyway.
Jadi stood where the chair had been, bent over tapping frantically on the keyboard with the memory stick already installed into the back of the console to copy everything that might remotely contain information they could use.
“Get the logbook. We need scans of every page going back as far as you can.”
Dagan’s fingers trailed the length of the bookshelf and yanking out the five logbooks there. “There’s only five. If we want further back it’s gonna be somewhere on the hard drive.”
“Gotcha. Just get us those scans, we don’t have long.”
Dagan yanked open drawers until he found the supervisor’s reader, also equipped with a scanner to transfer the images of pages to readable data. He made a quick trip over to the window to check and make sure no one was coming before he tossed open the first logbook and began scanning each and every page.
Meanwhile Jadi was working his magic and Dagan was sure that when they were done it was going to be clear to whoever was behind this that someone was on to them. Good, let them be put on notice that he and Jadi were coming. He was sick of tiptoeing around this asshole. It was time the traitor knew a counterstrike was in motion.
That was maybe one of the reasons he didn’t bother to be careful as he yanked open each logbook and scanned the pages. In another situation, he might have been more cautious, attempted to put the office back the way it’d been to detract attention. But for some reason, the sight of that disgusting fuck with his pants open and knowing he’d intended to put his hands on Jadi—even though that had been exactly the plan—infuriated him and Dagan wanted to make his presence known.
It was a purely instinctual, possessive feeling and he knew it. Knowing it didn’t change the fact that if he could, he’d piss a damn circle around the prince like a fucking wild animal marking its territory. Jadi would kick him in the nuts if he knew. Deservedly so.
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