Joanna Wylde - Jerred's Price(Pdf).pdf - po ang - Januszek66

JERRED’S PRICE

An Ellora’s Cave Publication, May 2004

Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

PO Box 787

Hudson, OH 44236-0787

ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-843-X

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales

is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Edited by Martha Punches.

Cover art by Darrell King .

JERRED’S PRICE

Joanna Wylde

Chapter One

Transit Station Three

Just inside Imperial Space

Year 6296, Saurellian Calendar

“How’s Giselle this evening?” Vetch asked expansively as he walked into the bar.

Giselle winked at him, used to his flirting. The station was part of the freighter captain’s

usual run, and he came in at least once every other week. She gave him a big grin and

leaned forward across the bar, flashing her cleavage at him.

“I’m fine, Vetch,” she said. “Getting better all the time. What can I do for you?”

“My friend and I needed a comfortable place to talk, and naturally we thought of

Manya’s,” Vetch said, gamely attempting to maintain eye contact with her. Every few

seconds she caught his glance darting downwards. Men always looked at her chest first

She was used to it by now.

“They’re still there, hon,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, I check on

’em first thing every morning, just for you.”

Vetch blushed, and she gave a deep, rich laugh. Then he started laughing, too, and

to her surprise he leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“You’re one in a million, Giselle,” he said. “But I have business to take care of this

evening. Can you set up me and my friend with a pitcher? Talking business is thirsty

work.”

“Is there anything that’s not thirsty work for you, Vetch?” a man asked. Giselle

looked up, startled.

Her breath caught.

Vetch had always seemed tall to her, but this man towered over the friendly

freighter captain. His face was hard, angular, and a nasty scar twisted one side of it,

pulling his features into a permanent snarl. Startled, she looked down quickly, but she

couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. He wore tall, black boots that seemed to be made

of leather, of all things. Leather was expensive… Her eyes moved slowly upward

following a roughened pair of black breeches that clung to every lean muscle of his legs.

A loose, black shirt draped his upper body, and he carried a leather jacket cradled in

one arm.

His gaze met hers coolly as her eyes reached his face. That scar caught her attention

again, and she found herself looking at it with morbid fascination. What kind of wound

would do damage like that, and why hadn’t he gotten it fixed? He cleared his throat

meaningfully. Embarrassed, she flashed a smile at him. She had been rude. He didn’t

smile back. In fact, he didn’t respond to her at all. Instead he looked away, checking out

Jerred’s Price

the room as if he was expecting trouble. Her intuition pricked, and she made a mental

note to keep an eye on him. If there was trouble this evening, she’d bet her last credit it

would come from him.

“Find a seat, and I’ll be right with you,” she said to him, trying not to let him see

how uncomfortable he made her. She’d be damned if she’d show him weakness.

“Thanks, Giselle,” he said softly. He rolled her name across his tongue slowly, as if

savoring its taste and sound.

He nodded to Vetch, indicating a table against the wall. As they walked over

together, she watched out the corner of her eye as he took a seat against the wall.

Definitely dangerous. She might want to warn Manya…

She brought them their pitcher and some glasses, and tried flashing another smile at

him. But even Vetch’s expression was sober now, and it was clear her presence wasn’t

wanted. Then a group of Debsian traders came in talking loudly, and her attention was

taken up filling their drink orders. Still, she pointed the man out to Manya when he

came out from the back office to tend bar. She didn’t like Black Leather’s attitude one

little bit.

The bar filled steadily over the next two hours, and while she checked regularly on

the two men, they didn’t want anything more from her. She had to admit, the way

Vetch’s friend ignored her piqued her interest. She was used to men noticing her, used

to them paying attention when she flirted and smiled at them. She was getting nothing

from him, although at times she felt as if might be watching her.

After she stopped by the table to check on them a third time, something flickered in

his eyes as she brushed past him—she knew she was on to something. He noticed her,

but he didn’t want to show it. She smiled to herself, wondering why she was bothering

to play this little game with him. Boredom? Maybe. A little flirting would make the shift

go faster. After all, if he were going to cause trouble, he would have by now. She

reached one hand to her already low neckline and pulled it down just a bit. Manya gave

her a pointed look, which she ignored. Cleavage sold drinks—he knew that. She was

just doing her job.

On her next pass through the tables she ignored Black Leather, focusing on the

Debsians instead. She leaned over as she served the traders, flashing them a wide

expansion of soft, sloping breast littered with ginger-colored freckles. Out of the corner

of her eye, she caught Black Leather’s stare. She pretended not to see, and then leaned

forward even further.

“Anything else I can get you boys?” she asked in a low voice, winking at the

loudest of the traders. He was a bluff, friendly looking man who didn’t seem used to

getting attention from women. His friends hooted, and one slapped him on the back.

Encouraged, the man leaned forward and held out two fingers with a credit chit

between them.

“This is all yours, darlin’,” he said. “I don’t suppose you want to come back to my

hostel with me?”

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