Chapter 32

Dante paced the ship. This was exactly what he hadn’t wanted—to be sitting waiting for backup when his woman was in trouble. Since her capture, he’d torn himself apart with worry. If I’d done this… If I’d done that… Beating himself up for leaving her behind.

It had taken every fiber of his self-control not to batter into the side of the spacecraft with his horns.

He became obsessed with the solid red dot that signified Tinsley’s life. He checked it constantly, knowing that if the dot started flashing, Tinsley was in real trouble. The tracker was aligned to her heartbeat. So if the light blinked out, it would mean they had removed the tracker, and he would have to go in alone to find her. And then they moved her. He watched in despair as the light started wandering and then left the surface of the barren little planet, Seisi.

He waited for his crew, even though it went against his every instinct. He wanted to give chase right away, but he knew he simply didn’t stand a chance on his own. It was better to wait and have a chance of success than to rush in and get killed immediately.

“Captain, do you copy?” came a voice over his comm set.

Dante melted with relief. “Dru, it’s good to hear your voice! There’s an update from the last transmission. She’s no longer on Seisi. They’ve moved her. Instead of Seisi, we have to go to Jorvlen. You copy?”

“Loud and clear,” Bran said.

“Stay close to me, and stay cloaked.”

“Okay, boss, we’ll be right behind you.”

Dante accelerated to warp speed, not worrying if the others would keep up. He knew his crew, and they’d never let him down before.

They chased the tracker to Jorvlen, and Dante watched in horror as the ship carrying Tinsley landed. He could see that the tracker was flashing at The Pleasure Ground, a disreputable auction house in the black-market district of the capital city Dakath. He had the sinking feeling that they were planning to sell her as a sex slave, and with horror, he realized the same fate may have already befallen his sister. The thought incensed him.

Once he was in orbit around the giant planet, he docked with his crew’s vessel. He strode onto the ship and headed straight for the comms room. He had started formulating a plan on his way over.

“What’s the news?” he asked as soon as he walked through the door.

“I’ve tapped into their private comm channel,” said Dru.

“Well done. I knew you’d do it,” Dante said, pleased with his talented crew.

“There’s a private auction tomorrow evening. Invite-only.”

“Well, that means one thing,” Dante said. “We have to figure out how to land an invite.”

“Already done.” Dru smiled.

“You’re a goddamn genius, Dru. Worth your weight in gold. Worth your weight in Desolation Stones. How?”

“I hijacked an incoming transmission. Stole their passcodes. I’ve booked spots for two Xoyosan businessmen for a private viewing tomorrow afternoon before the auction begins. They’ll get you instead”

Dante clapped Dru on the back. “That’s perfect, Dru!”

“I told them you were looking for something a bit exotic. Any unusual stock they had.”

It made Dante feel sick to the bone that these women were being classed as “stock.” How could these bastards live with themselves?

“And your brother, Grux, is on standby with a special tactics team, ready to back you up if things go wrong down there,” Dru said. “They’re in stealth mode right now and keeping radio transmissions to a minimum, but they’re here.”

“Let’s hope we don’t need them.”

The waiting was agonizing, but finally the time came to put on their disguises. Both he and Bran were covered in green face paint, making sure every exposed bit of skin was covered. They both wore fake breathing apparatuses on their heads to cover their horns.

The Xoyosan race was one of the few disguises a Lorr could get away with convincingly because of their horns. However, the Xoyosan breathing apparatus covered them perfectly.

“I don’t think we should take the Thunder Bolt,” said Bran. “It’s too recognizable.”

“But it’s probably the best ship if we have to make a quick getaway,” said Dante.

“It’s got no firepower, and we don’t want to attract attention.”

Dante had always encouraged his crew to challenge his command. He reasoned that as long as everyone knew the final decision always rested with him, the decision-making process was always better if everyone could share their input equally. The crew always respected him for it.

“We’ll take a pod.”

They landed on the docking port of The Pleasure Ground and were greeted by a representative. She was a scantily dressed Sentarian. The Sentarians were known for exuding pheromones through their skin to attract and subdue a mate. They often ended up in the sex trade because their sexual prowess was legendary.

“Welcome to The Pleasure Ground. Follow me, please, sirs,” she said, her voice deep and husky.

She walked in front of them with a mesmerizing sway of her hips. Dante tried not to let his eyes wander. He had to poke Bran more than once to keep his attention on track.

She led them to a reception area where they had to sign in. They were asked to hand over their weapons, which they reluctantly did. Dante hoped no one would notice that they were carrying Lorr weaponry. But the dull-eyed Jorvlen behind the counter just put them in the rack without comment and handed them a receipt.

“Would you like a quick warm-up first, sirs?” said their seductive Pleasure Ground hostess. “Something to whet your appetites?”

“No,” said Dante firmly. “We wish to see your merchandise and be gone. Fresh stock only, if you would.”

“Certainly, sirs. Follow me.”

She led them through a maze of corridors. Dante memorized every turn in case they needed to leave in a hurry.

“You’re in the pink bay,” said their hostess, showing them to a small cubicle in a smoky room already half-filled with bidders. “You can order drinks and other refreshments through the monitor in front of you. You can also use this monitor for bidding.”

The room was low-lit, and the other bidders were in their own shady private alcoves surrounding a central stage. The air smelled stale, and the smoke was thick and suffocating. It must have been laced with something because it made Dante feel lightheaded and nauseated. He wished fervently that the fake breathing apparatus on his head was real, and that he could breathe some pure air.

He took in the room around him, or what he could see of it at least. A number of floor-to-ceiling curtains hung around the edge. He didn’t believe for a moment that they covered windows. Far more likely, they hid heavily armed guards.

He checked out the stage. The bile rose in his throat when he realized there was a deep blood stain across it.