A Runaway for the Alien Mercenary
Page 67
The corridor opened briefly into a junction. She caught a glimpse of a ladder ahead, emergency lighting strips set into the deck, and a bulkhead marked with a faded maintenance stencil.
Her mind raced. Okay, she was down to three possible ship classes. This thing could be a converted freight hauler, an old patrol transport, or even one of those ugly private security barges that every second criminal with more credits than taste seemed to buy.
Then the ship gave a low vibration beneath her feet.
Okay, those weren’t engines. That felt like auxiliary power cycling through the port-side systems.
Her mouth tightened as she locked in the layout. This was a patrol transport, possibly an adapted Charnton class.
“Keep moving,” the man behind her snapped, shoving her in the back again.
She stumbled, catching herself on the wall with one hand. Her breath hitched as she made another frightened noise.
The guard holding her arm laughed. “Aw. Don’t cry, sweetheart. We’ll be gentle if you’re—”
She slammed the heel of her boot down onto his instep.
He yelped, grip loosening. Twisting, she caught his wrist and yanked him forward into the bulkhead. His face hit metal with a sharp crack.
The second guard lunged for her from behind. She threw her head back, and the back of her skull connected with his nose. He staggered back, hands flying to his face.
Spinning, she slammed her fist into his throat before he could recover.
He gagged for breath, folding forward. Grabbing a handful of his hair, she drove her knee up into his face, and he dropped like a stone.
The first one had pushed off the wall, blood pouring from his cut cheek as he reached for the weapon at his hip. She was already moving. Grabbing his wrist before he could reach his weapon, she slammed it against the wall, then wrenched it behind his back.
Snarling, she kicked his knee sideways. It bent the wrong way, and he screamed, hitting the deck beside his friend. A hard kick to his jaw knocked him out.
For a second, she stood over the unconscious pair, her chest heaving.
“Assholes,” she growled.
Joe’s men were used to frightened people. Used to chains and guns and the name of their boss doing all the work for them. Which meant they were soft bastards who couldn’t handle someone fighting back.
And she was never not going to fight back. She’d spent most of her adult life around traders, pissed-off station security, and pirates who’d thought a ship full of women would be easy pickings.
She knew exactly where to hit.
Right, she needed to get this lot out of sight. Looking further up the corridor, she spotted the maintenance closet and grinned. Perfect.
“This might be a bit of a snug fit, gentlemen,” she muttered, grabbing the uninjured guard by the back of his coveralls and started dragging him. “My apologies for that.”
Reaching the closet, she slapped the release panel and smiled. It was cramped, full of pipework and cleaning supplies. Perfect.
It didn’t take her long to get both of them bundled in there. And it was a good job she was used to hauling engine components around because both were obviously fond of their food.
She found the cuffs clipped to one guard’s belt and cuffed them both to the thick coolant pipe, hands behind them. Neither would be getting free without dislocating something.
“Don’t bother,” she told them as the first guard regained conciousness and tried to buck away. “You’ll just make it worse.”
He spat at her boots.
She looked down at the skimpy slit in her dress, then grabbed the hem with both hands and ripped off a long strip. The sound was deeply satisfying.
“Should’ve let me keep my clothes, shouldn’t you?” She grinned nastily as she stuffed the fabric into his mouth. Then she gagged the other one with the remaining strip, knotting it tight behind his head.
She frowned as she looked down at them. Should she strip one of them and steal their clothes? A disguise would help. Then she looked at them again. No. Both were broad through the stomach. She’d spend the next hour hauling at the waistband while the sleeves flapped around her hands, and she could definitely do without shit like that.