Pulled by the Tail Page 3

  Quil, however, was all flash. He lost in spectacular fashion, always paid his debt, and got invited to the exclusive tables. Once the marks—and to be honest, Quil always knew who could afford to lose the most—were well and truly comfortable, all but ignoring the poor sucker losing a fortune while gloating and congratulating themselves, Quil would place an impossible wager.

  Why not take the fool’s money? Or his ship? Or anything else he owns in the universe?

  Quil won. He always won. Talen played the furious brother, upset at the gambling losses, and used his bulk to create a distraction. With attention diverted elsewhere, Quil cheated.

  No one should be surprised, least of all the people at the table with Quil. They were all cheats. Stations like this one, Noxu, were tax dodges for the ultra-rich, so that was the first cheat there. The same tax-evading ultra-rich snobs avoided rebuilding their homeworld, instead chasing pleasures in a floating palace. Their lifestyles cost a fortune and only the smallest percentage ever funneled back to planetside. Moreover, Corra could not afford to police Noxu, instead relying on private security to keep the peace.

  Stations like Noxu were fiefdoms, ruled by kings and aristocrats. There was no justice for the everyday person. Crimes committed by the wealthy were swept away but crimes against them—mostly theft—were pursued to the point of obsession. Stories of a maid caught with stolen jewels or a footman caught in bed with an heiress filled the news cycle.

  Talen did not worry about Lerrence crying to the media once he realized he’d been conned. The brothers counted on embarrassment to keep him silent. Lerrence would be more likely to sic his private security on them. Talen’s biggest worry was making it to the ship and warming up the engines for a quick exit.

  He had a book, a murder mystery, waiting in his bunk. The story just got to the good part and he had his suspicions as to the identity of the murderer. The family had secrets and secrets always clawed their way out of darkness into the light.

  He felt a heavy blow connect with his shoulder before that person hooked their arm into his elbow and took off at a run.

  “What are you still doing here?” Quil’s eyes had a manic gleam to them.

  Talen didn’t ask if there was trouble. The brothers wouldn’t be running for any other reason. They dashed through the crowd, nimbly avoiding security by ducking behind a row of slot machines. The bright lights and constant noise provided enough cover for Talen to weave his way across the casino floor and reach the exit.

  The concourse left them too open. Talen ducked into a service corridor that ran behind the shops and would bring them nearly to their ship.

  “I never thought I’d be glad you memorized the station’s layout,” Quil said.

  “Always have an exit strategy.” Talen knew his elder brother often acted first and worried about the consequences after, which was why he took it upon himself to over-prepare.

  The ship’s engines were already online when the brothers arrived. A four-armed copper-skinned male moved from the pilot’s seat.

  “You moved my settings,” Talen complained, taking the chair from Charl. He disliked the distance of the chair from the console, as Charl always moved it back due to his freakishly long arms. He’d have to fiddle with the seat before it felt correct again.

  “I did not,” Charl said, dropping into the co-pilot’s seat. As the ship’s engineer, the male rarely sat in the cockpit, let alone the pilot’s seat. “Security put out an alert for two Tal males, so I thought you’d appreciate a quick exit.”

  Talen grumbled, unwilling to admit the male was correct.

  “The alert described the males as particularly handsome, yes? That’s how you knew it was us,” Quil said, taking the third seat. Technically, the seat was for the weapons specialist, but they rarely had reason to use the ship’s weapons.

  Charl snorted, two hands fastening the safety harness and the other two punching in a destination. “The usual?”

  “Yes,” Talen said at the exact moment his brother said no. “Let’s get out of here first, before they lock the docking clamps.” The engines whined and the ship slid gracefully away from the dock.

  Then lurched to a stop.

  “Too late,” Charl said.

  “Did the alert use our names? How did they identify us?” Talen spun his chair to face his brother. “You didn’t use our real names, did you?”

  “Of course I did. Couldn’t have the deed made out to someone who doesn’t exist.”

  “Quil,” he growled in frustration. That was so typical of his brother.

  “Relax. It’s not like I used our real-real names.”

  His claws itched and burned, yearning to break free and dig into his stupid brother’s stupid face. They couldn’t afford to lose time fighting but it would only take a moment to scratch that cocky expression off Quil’s face and make him bleed—

  Quil seemed aware of Talen’s mood and jumped up. “I’ll fix it. Just be ready to fly.”

  Talen growled but turned back to the console. Using the monitor, he watched Quil opened the hatch, attach a safety tether and lean over the edge. “Be ready,” Quil said over the ship’s comm. Then Talen witnessed his brother take a drill to the tether and disable it in a highly illegal and destructive manner to the station’s property.

  “You’re paying when the station sends the repair bill,” Talen muttered into the mic.

  “Go.”

  The ship pulled away. As it crossed the haze barrier that kept the atmosphere in, the hull sealed shut. The station sent several requests to return to dock and cut off the engine. Talen muted the comm.

  “That’s a violation of IU protocol,” Charl said. They had served in the Interstellar Union Navy together and usually, Charl’s instance to still live as if they were bound by IU regulations didn’t bother Talen, but it rubbed him the wrong way today.

  “Get off my tail.”

  “Don’t snarl at me. I’m not the one who got caught cheating at cards.”

  Talen held his tongue. Charl tolerated Quil and his unorthodox recreational activities, but Talen knew his brother irritated his friend.

  Good thing they spent so much time together in a tiny ship.

  The males managed to avoid each other, despite the size of the ship. Charl spent most of his waking hours in engineering or maintaining the ship’s systems. With the ship’s age—decades beyond the time most vessels were put into retirement—the repairs were never-ending. Quil spent the majority of his time drumming up business to haul cargo and the occasional passenger. Cheating at cards was strictly recreational.

  Quil’s stunt today still confused him. He had no idea why Quil would take such a huge risk and use their actual names.

  The wayward brother returned, tossing himself into a chair with a dramatic sigh. “Your distraction was flawless but apparently there was a camera just over my shoulder,” Quil said.

  Talen calmly set the destination, their usual retreat after a job, and then leaped from his seat toward Quil. He grabbed his brother by the throat, tail lashing viciously behind him. “What was that?”

  Charl cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll be down below, watching the engines make pretty colors. Try not to kill each other.”

  Quil tossed Talen a charming smile, the one he used to open doors, ease doubts, and convince people he was a harmless fool. “I know you’re upset—”

  “You used your real name. Of all the irresponsible, foolish risks to take, I don’t understand. How could you be so selfish?”

  “I can explain.”

  “Do more than explain.” Talen’s thoughts crowded with the worry that Quil’s actions put their small family—technically his crew but in reality, his family—at risk. All they had in the universe was each other. How could he?

  Quil’s legal name, linked with a good image of him, could tie them to everything they left behind on Talmar. If that happened, they would need to do more than lie low for a few weeks at Curiosity Terminal. The station didn’t verify ship informat
ion when it came to berth and manifest reporting was voluntary. It was the perfect place for those who played fast and loose with the law to pass the time. Outside of Interstellar Union space, warrants were rarely enforced, but the live-and-let-live attitude of the station management was no protection against a hungry contractor looking to collect a bounty.

  “I’m tired,” Quil said.

  “Then take a fucking nap—”

  “No, Talen, look at me. I. Am. Tired. Of this life. Of the ship. I can’t do this anymore.”

  Talen looked at his elder brother, truly looked at him. Despite being younger, Talen had never been the little brother. He stood a good four inches taller than Quil and the years in the IU Navy put solid muscle on his broad frame. Quil could never be described as delicate, but he had a slender, runner’s build. Quil enjoyed good food and wine, to the point of over-indulgence, but kept off the adverse effects with running. Every day, he ran on the treadmill in the makeshift gym in the cargo bay. He ran to the point where Talen heard the whirr of the machine as constant background noise, claiming it helped him think.

  But dark circles hung under his eyes. He tossed smiles around with ease, but they didn’t reach his eyes. Talen couldn’t remember the last time Quil had genuinely smiled, or laughed, for that matter. Maybe that time they toured the royal gardens on Fremm, but that had been years ago.

  “How long have you felt this way?”

  Quil rolled a shoulder. “I’m not sure. It crept up on me. Besides, we have other factors to consider. You surely have noticed that life on the ship is growing harder for Bright—”

  Talen’s tail lashed with annoyance. Yes, the ship was designed for a younger person. Yes, their adoptive mother was advancing in age. Yes, the ladders used between the ship’s levels were too much for her aging joints, effectively confining her to one level. “Then you want to sell this parcel of land and upgrade to a larger ship?”

  Larger ships came with additional expenses. Their current crew of four lived comfortably—excluding the ladders and Bright’s joints—on the ship. The size of their vessel was just large enough to go anywhere, even long hauls in deep space, and small enough to dock anywhere without racking up enormous fees.

  “No, I want us to live there,” Quil said.

  “In a house?” Talen hadn’t lived in a stationary building since before he joined the IU Navy. How could he sleep without the constant background noise of ship engines?

  “Yes, a house. Many people live in houses. It’s all the rage nowadays.”

  “Smartass,” Talen grumbled.

  “Imagine having a home and a mate,” Quil said, sliding an arm over Talen’s shoulder, like the male had no sense of self-preservation. “Imagine Bright sitting by the fire with a kit on her knee. Telling stories of Talmar.”

  “I didn’t know you were the sentimental type,” he said, shaking off his brother’s arm. “Why not just purchase a house? Why this one in particular?”

  “The moon violet.”

  A flower. Of course. Quil had an extensive botanical collection in his cabin and had annexed parts of the ship, turning it into a garden.

  “You swindled a man’s property away because of a flower?”

  “It’s a rare specimen only found in certain locations, including Lerrence’s land. No one is preserving the habitat. No one even cares that the entire species could be lost.”

  “Then we’ll go to the planet’s surface and collect your specimens.”

  “No, that’s not the point. That’s not what I want.” Quil ran a hand through his hair, ruining his perfect coif. “Don’t make a decision right away. Let me show you the property.”

  He sat at the console. Half the screen went dark and images of a rundown house replaced navigation charts. Stone with a slate roof, Talen saw only an unending list of repairs and renovations. The house was a pit they would pour the remaining portion of their inheritance into. “Perhaps it looks better in person,” Quil said.

  Chapter 2

  Georgia

  Ms. Phillips,

  Thank you for submitting your application for our rental property. Unfortunately, without solid credit history or current proof of income, we are unable to rent to you at this time.

  * * *

  “Why did you leave your last position?” The woman behind the desk smiled, Georgia’s resume in hand.

  And the interview had been going so well until then.

  Georgia sighed, digging down to find the strength and give a bland lie about wanting new challenges, or a position with room for growth. Whatever she did say, she absolutely could not, under any circumstances, tell the truth.

  But why bother? The moment they checked her references, Kevin whispered poison in their ears and convinced them not to call her back for a second interview. That was the only reason she could think of to explain how she could have interviewed every day last week and not a single one considered hiring her. Georgia shared her theory with Freema last night and while her friend didn’t outright call her paranoid, it was strongly implied.

  “Well,” Georgia said, “I felt a bit restricted in the last office. The company culture didn’t agree with me.” Great, that made her sound like a fussy diva. She’d have been better off with a wishy-washy response about wanting new challenges and growth.

  “Really? I always found that company to be quite excellent. It’s one of my favorite poaching grounds.” The woman made a note at the bottom of Georgia’s resume. The frown told her that the interview was all but finished.

  “Does this company allow supervisors to have personal relationships with their subordinates? No? That seems wise, because I dated my direct supervisor, we lived together, and found him screwing the intern in our bed,” Georgia said, having nothing to lose. “I’m sure you can imagine why I felt I couldn’t continue to work in that type of environment.” She gathered her bag and stood. “Thank you for your time. I completely understand if you go in a different direction.”

  The non-drama llama direction. Shit, even she wouldn’t hire herself after that.

  Five minutes later, the dark gray sky finally dumped the rain it had promised all morning. Lacking an umbrella—of course—Georgia ducked into a coffee shop. The cheery holiday music playing did not match her mood. She scraped together enough coins from the bottom of her bag for a small caramel latte and dumped two packets of sugar into the brew. Then, deciding that her miserable day deserved something nice, she added two more packets to her bomb of sugar and caffeine.

  Despite the disastrous interview, she left with her head held high. Of course, pride didn’t put money in the bank, and her account felt empty.

  For the last month, she’d been living on Freema’s couch. She honestly had expected to find something—anything—by now. Her bestie’s one-bedroom apartment wasn’t made for two people and they were wearing on each other’s nerves. Freema worked odd hours at the hospital thanks to her med school residency. She’d come in at two in the morning, starving, and make a racket in the kitchen.

  Georgia didn’t feel as if she could complain about her interrupted sleep when she ate Freema’s food, used her hot water, and couldn’t contribute to the bills. She did keep the place tidy and tried to do as much of the cooking as possible, avoiding complete mooch-hood. Still, they were two adults used to having their own space. Georgia seriously considered taking what remained of her savings and finding her own place, but what she could afford terrified her, and she wasn’t that desperate. Yet.

  The last month burned through her modest savings with one emergency after another. First, she woke up one rainy morning to find four flat tires on her car. A new set put a nice dent in her account, but then the battery went, followed by the alternator. Fixing the car was non-negotiable. How could she get a job if she couldn’t get to job interviews?

  While the car was in the shop, she had to take the bus. While she checked the phone for directions, someone bumped into her and the phone took a dive into a puddle, because it was raining—of course it
was. The phone didn’t recover from its brief nautical excursion and even the cheapest replacement set her back a bit, but she needed a phone for the job hunt.

  And the job hunt… Yeah. She fucked up today but as long as they kept checking her references, and Kevin badmouthed her, she’d never find a job. Leaving the job off her resume made a suspicious four-year gap. Maybe she could find someone else at the company to list as her supervisor? No, if she planned to doctor her resume, she should at least use Freema, who would sing her praises.

  Had it gotten that bad? Having her best friend pretend to be her boss just to get a job, any job.

  Depressed at the thought, she checked her messages. A response from Celestial Mates sat at the top of her inbox.

  She remembered signing up for the dating app. The next morning, hungover, she canceled her account. At least she thought she did. There was probably a box she didn’t check or a button she forgot to press. The last thing she needed was dating drama. Kevin embarrassed her more than broke her heart, letting herself be played like that, but the idea of moving on made her nervous.

  She’d just send a quick reply and set Celestial Mates straight—

  A Tal male, with light amber complexion with darker stripes, grinned up at her. He had fine features, dark eyes framed with dark lashes, and russet hair that sat in an unruly mop on his head. Those eyes though, they weren’t quite human, and she felt as if he stared out of the screen directly at her.

  Georgia blushed. He had to be the single most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

  Tranquility Achaval.

  This guy needed a mail order wife? Really? She felt confident that he could get a date easily.

  She read the brief bio, which explained that he lived on Corra, a planet on the edge of nowhere, ran a bed and breakfast, and wanted an heir. Huh. So there weren’t any women on Corra? Or no women there were willing to make babies with him? Maybe he just had a thing for humans.

  She scrolled back up to his image, trying to discern why a striking man such as him needed a matchmaking service. The photo told her nothing. Rereading the bio told her nothing more than he lived on a remote planet, ran a bed and breakfast, and wanted a family.