Star Survivor (The Sectors SF Romance Series Book 6)

by Veronica Scott

  Nodding, Twilka walked faster, anxious to deal with the green dress and then the rest of the problems. “A bit over the top, but the collection was too simple. He needed something to distract the critics. How does that affect me?”

  “Three of our girls have a purple rash from the leaves and insects they had to wear.”

  Hands on her hips, Twilka blinked. “Okay, that is new. Can we cover them with glittering stardust powder?”

  “Depending which dresses they’re supposed to wear.” Biting her lip, Lissa considered.

  Twilka gave her assistant a tiny shove. “Go figure it out with the head makeup artist. He’ll love the challenge, even as he cusses you out. And then get Jord away from the catering tables and tell him to supervise the dressers like he’s supposed to be doing. I’m off to take care of the green dress.”

  The pace of problems and calls for her personal attention were nonstop. At five minutes to curtain, Lissa reported the venue was full, people clamoring for seats, standing room only. “And we’re already booking orders for the dress you let Fiona have!”

  The music started pumping. Twilka moved to the edge of the stage, took a deep breath, and walked out to welcome the audience to her show. She couldn’t really see them for all the lights and she had a moment of sheer panic, terrified whoever had taken out the contract on her life might be here, tired of waiting for the D’nvannae to take action. She heard herself uttering her pretty speech of thanks, using the old lilting Socialite voice and plenty of the current slang, because that was still the bedrock of her image—‘Lite girl gone legit—applause crescendoed and she was safely backstage again as the first model sashayed onto the runway, perfect face set in a contemptuous mask, as if to say other people could buy the dress, but no one could wear it as well as she did.

  Khevan was behind her. She could feel his massive presence like the gravity of a major planet and the thought was reassuring. Models sauntered by in an endless stream, apparently untouched by the backstage chaos. Twilka made a few last second adjustments, but for the most part merely watched, taking mental notes about accessories. The constant applause was reassuring. Lissa came to stand at her shoulder, edging around Khevan in an unintentionally comical maneuver.

  “Another hit,” she whispered into Twilka’s ear.

  Nodding, Twilka waited for the last gown, a confection of white lace with a black and purple accent to give it the necessary fashion edge, to make its second appearance as the show ended, and stepped out at the right interval behind the girl, waving to the crowd and smiling to acknowledge their kudos. A bow at the end of the runway and she and the model pranced backstage, hand in hand, as if they were best friends since childhood. A wave and a blown kiss from the curtain’s edge and she was done. People crowded her, hugging her and saying nice things about the show, the gathering giddy on an adrenaline high. Customers, critics, rivals, and friends flooded the area, coming to offer their congratulations. Twilka floated through the gathering as she’d done many times before.

  Suddenly, Khevan had her by the arm, leading her away from a circle of perplexed guests and into the private space at the rear of their portion of the venue. He shut the door, leaning on it as if to block a horde of Mawreg from gaining entry. “We have to leave now.”

  “What are you talking about? We can go back to the hotel for a few hours in between the show and tonight’s gala, but I have at least another hour of accepting congratulations, air kissing, and sipping champagne before we’re done here.” She sank into the chair, rubbing her ankle. “I don’t mind taking a moment to rest, but I can’t spare too much time.”

  He advanced to the chair, caging her in the seat with his powerful arms. “I found out who issued the contract for your death. It was the Red Lady herself. And she’s sent a compliance squad to ensure I complete the assignment.”

  “Why?” Shocked, she could barely form the words. “After all these years, why target me now? What the seven hells have I done to her?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not you; it’s me. She’s decided to test me in consideration for promotion to the next level; it’s what she does…”

  Twilka saw red. She shoved him violently away, which even in the moment she knew was only possible because he was off balance and unwilling to exert his strength against her. “I’m the one she wants dead.” She sprang from the chair and paced. “Why would killing me prove anything to her? You walked away from me of your own accord without a backward glance five years ago. I mean nothing to you.”

  “That’s not true,” he said.

  She stopped in mid-step and stared. “Which part? Because from my viewpoint, it’s all true.”

  He averted his gaze rather than meet her angry eyes, an evasive act so astounding and out of character that she caught her breath. What is he hiding?

  Clearing his throat, he said, “We don’t have time to discuss this now. If there’s a compliance squad assigned to me, they may already be here on the planet. The enforcers may have arrived before I did. In fact, I’d bet on it, remembering the way the Chief Monk was acting when he handed me the order. He possessed knowledge disadvantageous to me. We have to go to ground and hide, right now. Then figure out how to extricate ourselves.” Fists clenched, he looked ready for combat.

  “So I have to die to prove you’re worthy of—of what? Fucking her?”

  “Twilka, please, I’ll be happy to answer any question, but not now.” He held out one hand. “Can you trust me as you once did?”

  She stared at him as if he was a snake and brushed his hand aside with an angry slap. “Why don’t I go the Sector authorities and get protection, get transported off planet? Or drive to the White Lady’s temple here and ask for sanctuary? While you and the fire bitch play your games and work this out.”

  He shook his head. “The Sectors won’t get involved in a legitimate contract issue involving the Red Lady. There’s a treaty, remember? As to your other idea, the Lady in White doesn’t maintain a personal presence here, despite the temple. There’s no one on this planet of sufficient standing in her hierarchy to agree to assist you. I doubt the head monk there would even let you into his facility—he won’t want to accept the risk.”

  “She was ready to help both of us five years ago and you threw it all away.”

  Twilka watched him visibly control his anger at her continued barbs. For her part, she was barely restraining herself from hurling things at him. The old pain of rejection was like poison in her heart, compounded by her current jeopardy and the knowledge he was hiding something.

  “The compliance squad will kill you and then execute me if we let ourselves be caught,” he said. “My informant at Temple Home was able to tell me that much before he was cut off in mid transmission. I fear he’s dead. I told you I have rivals, and I think this kill scenario with you at the center was contrived to force my hand. Someone’s attempting a power grab and you’re the convenient pawn.” He took a deep breath. “We can argue later if you desire. Right now we have to go. The entire population of the Sectors knows where you are at this moment, thanks to the media.” He frowned, eyeing her. “But not in that dress and those shoes.”

  She threw her hair off her shoulders with a sweeping gesture and snorted contemptuously. “I’ll be even more noticeable naked. What do you suggest? Do we risk a stop at the hotel?”

  “No. We’ll certainly be taken if we go there.” He gazed around the tiny office, as if expecting a solution to appear from thin air.

  Twilka jumped, hand at her throat, as the door panel vibrated under a vigorous pounding. “Boss lady? We need you out here, now,” Jord said through the closed panel. “Are you okay?”

  Watching Khevan, she raised her voice to answer, “Just the damn recurring headache. Give me a minute for the headclear to work and I’ll join you. Go find Fiona, would you? And set up a photo op?”

  “Will do.” She heard the sound of his footsteps retreating down the short hall.

  “Go out there and grab me some clothes a
nd a pair of shoes from the models’ changing stations,” she said to Khevan. “The girls come in wearing rags—it’s like a law of nature, the more elevated the fashions to be shown, the more downmarket the models act.” She made a shooing motion and then reached to unfasten her dress. “Hurry up. I’ll be right here.”

  He slipped out the door and returned a moment or two later, bearing a clingy top, a big overshirt, and a pair of tight leggings. He had a pair of sensible, scuffed shoes under his arm. Twilka grabbed the items and got dressed as fast as she could. She wasn’t surprised to find he’d gotten things close enough to her size to fit. Thorough was the D’nvannae style. Pulling a scarf from an overflowing box of accessories by the door, she fastened her hair into a casual ponytail. Grabbing her elegant, bejeweled purse, she frowned. Dumping the contents on the desk in a messy pile, she took her personal AI and a few other necessities, stuffing them into the pockets of the overshirt.

  “Leave the AI,” he said. “You can be traced.”

  “Not with this model. My father’s IT squad directs their best efforts into maintaining security of the family’s hardware. I need to be able to communicate. Let’s go.”

  He opened the door a crack. “Coast is clear.” Slipping out, he checked to be sure she was behind him. “The least observed exit is at the rear, a service dock. I’ve disabled the surveillance cameras.”

  “Show me the way.”

  Twilka on his heels, Khevan skulked through the venue’s machinery rooms, jogged through hallways, dodged in and out of storerooms full of props, eventually emerging on a grimy dock. One massive cargo hauler sat idling off to the side, no sign of the driver.

  “Are we going to steal the truck?” She thought that might be exciting, but Khevan jumped from the loading platform and assisted her to the ground, after which he kept hold of her hand and ran past the vehicle.

  “This isn’t an adventure trideo,” he said, his voice stern. “We can lose ourselves in the city much more efficiently on foot.”

  He assisted her in sneaking through a gap in the fence and heading along the deserted road into the depths of the city.

  “Do we have a plan?” she asked. “Aren’t you kind of conspicuous, tattoo and all?”

  “There are D’nvannae coming and going in this city, and most civilians can’t read the tattoos, so a person in the street wouldn’t distinguish me from any other brother. The immediate plan is to travel deep into the transient area by the spaceport, hole up in a cheap anonymous room, and figure out what to do next.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Two hours later, after weaving and winding through several of the more disreputable areas of the city, Twilka stood next to the sagging bed in the middle of a tiny room, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. “I’m afraid to touch anything—this place is probably brimming with germs and disgusting substances. And the creepy proprietor could be a mass murderer, from the expression he was wearing.” She shivered. “I’ve never seen such dead eyes on a person who was still breathing. He’s addicted to something.” Everywhere she looked in the room there were unpleasant reminders of how awful this place was—stains on the industrial carpet, holes in the wall, even a multi-legged insect crawling up one side of the door. “How long are we staying here?”

  Khevan ignored her question as he unpacked the bag of food he’d purchased from a street vendor. He offered her a wrapped chamile roaster leg, dripping with sauce. “Hungry? We can think better on a full stomach.”

  “I’ll think better if I’m buzzed. I need something to reduce my stress level. Where’s the beer you bought?” She took the avian drumstick and sat on the only chair, which creaked alarmingly as she allowed the seat to take her weight. He handed her an open container and Twilka took a long drink.

  Munching on his food, Khevan put some credits in the tiny vid screen embedded in the wall, which activated in fits and starts. He set the selection to local news. There was nothing about Twilka during the brief program.

  “Good. Lissa and Jord are probably frantic right now, but trying to keep this from becoming a full-blown disaster. People will talk when I’m not at the party tonight, but hopefully there’ll be a new juicy scandal or upset to distract the media. The reporters who follow celebrities have the attention span of small furry mammals. Easily drawn to a new novelty.” Twilka deposited the remnants of her dinner in the dispose-all and drained the beer. “My staff won’t report my being missing to the authorities until tomorrow, if at all.” She shrugged. “The benefit of being known as a flighty ‘Lite, who takes it into her head to do wild pranks. Never mind I haven’t done anything crazy in years. A well-crafted reputation like I’ve got lives forever. You’d think I’d done it all on purpose in my younger years so I could coast in my old age. I only wish I’d been that smart.” Hands on her hips, she stared at Khevan. “Despite my pleasant demeanor, I’m about out of patience, I warn you. Ready to talk now?”

  “I’m sorry I got you into this,” he said.

  “A little late for apologies.” She glared at the bed with distaste. “I’m supposed to be at a gala party in a glamorous dress designed by me, working the crowd, drinking expensive feelgoods, and drumming up new business by the shipload. Maybe flirting with cute trideo stars or investors and being photographed. Instead I’m in this dump, in stolen clothes I wouldn’t wear for a night crawling through dive bars, and I’m with you. Oh, and with a contract out on my head.” She squared her shoulders. “So, who are we going to get to help us? I can call my father, but I don’t think he has influence with the Red Lady. How many credits would it take to get her to back off?”

  “At best, he could hire civilian bodyguards for you, maybe get you off the planet for now if he moved fast enough, but she’d find you eventually. Since this is personal with her, your father could hand over the entire Sectors’ government treasury and she wouldn’t call off the hunt. I think there’s only one person I can ask for help for both of us, and yet I’m not sure what he can do.”

  Dusting the surface of the bed cover off with a frown, examining her hand for a moment, Twilka sat on the end of the bed. “Nick Jameson.”

  “Yes. After the Nebula Dream, he swore to come to my aid if ever I needed him, and I made a matching oath. Although how he can help…”

  “You may be surprised. After the first year, once he left the military, he and Mara established a couple of businesses. She runs a shipping operation and he has a high level, hush hush security firm. Lot of ex Special Forces types working for him and some unusual…consultants. I heard he might even have an in with the Mellureans. Aren’t they the only ones who can stand up to your Red Lady besides her sister? Hey, what about appealing to them ourselves? She didn’t much like me, but you and Lady Damais sure bonded…” She looked at his face and stopped. “What? What did I say?”

  “How do you know about what Nick and Mara are doing?”

  “You may have cut off communication with all of us, but I stayed in touch with them. I’ve spent time at their home, in fact. The Jamesons are at peace with the world. Although they do keep busy.” She dug her personal AI out of the pocket in her oversize shirt. “Do you need their contact data?”

  “Were you always this practical, underneath the ‘Lite façade?”

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “What with my father’s fortune and my friends, life was a continuous, moving party and I drifted with it. No one expected me to do anything else. After the wreck, after you abandoned me, I couldn’t re-enter the old world I used to play in. I didn’t fit in. I can pretend for a while, long enough to do my commercials and sell my bits and pieces. I can make a speech at the start of a fashion show. Maybe someday I’ll tell you more about that, if we survive and if I’m still talking to you. Are we going to call Nick or not?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We’ll have to send a message, no vids at this distance, not even with the network my father owns. What do you want me to say?”

  “Calling in the favor, situation red tinge
d and deadly. He’ll get the gist. You can add we need help to get off the planet and hide while we try to solve this.”

  “Cryptic but pithy. I like it.” She sent the message. “We’ll probably hear back in a few hours, based on past experiences, and if he’s available, not off on a mission. No one who works for him could handle this, so I tagged it for his eyes only. Or Mara’s.”

  “We’ll have to hope we hear soon. Evading the Brotherhood is going to get more and more challenging as the hours pass.” He assessed her from head to toe, but there was no emotion showing on his face. “You must be tired. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

  She eyed the bed with distaste. “I’m not getting under those covers.”

  “Lay on top of them. Here, you can use my jacket as a blanket.” He handed over his black leather jacket, still warm from his body.

  She kicked off her borrowed shoes and curled up in the sagging center of the cheap mattress. Unable to stop herself, she took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, which clung to the lining of the jacket, a delicious, exotic blend reminiscent of pine trees and spices, with a sharp citrus note, underscored by the clean scent of his own skin. She’d never been able to resist the enticement of his scent, the smooth feel of his skin, his hard muscles pressed against her soft core… Annoyed with herself and the way her body was reacting, Twilka pushed the jacket aside. She didn’t need complications, or the heartbreak, when he walked away again once their problem was resolved. Yawning, she rolled onto her other side and forced her churning anxieties into the pattern of her best meditation, hoping sleep would come soon.

  She was trapped in the corridor, spine pressed to the bulkhead, surrounded by a pack of faceless men, laughing, leering, grabbing at her. The other woman, the one they’d attacked first, before Twilka stumbled across the gathering in her desperate search for a lifeboat, lay unmoving on the deck…As the ringleader lunged forward and grabbed her, Twilka screamed curses, striking out in self-defense.