Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“We’re far enough away now, I think,” she says. Her voice sounds entirely different. Gone is the calm, sweet tone. Gone is the air of fragility, too. In its place is a woman with steel in her spine. She reaches over and pulls off the shock-bracelet and then tosses it out the window. “Fuck that thing.”
Well, well, well. This gets more interesting by the moment. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”
She gives me a cool glance. “Jutari said you were re-captured and waiting for deportation. I thought you might be perfect for my needs. So I went to the jail and greased a few palms to get you out.”
So she knows my old friend Jutari? I narrow my eyes, watching her. She went there looking specifically for me, then. It means that the entire show of “choosing” someone at the jail was all made up. It means she knew exactly what she wanted the moment she showed up. It means she’s been planning all this and played the innocent, bewildered miss back at the jail to work those guards over.
Kef me, but I’ve never been so damned turned on in my life. “You have me out. What do you want?”
I expect to hear any number of things. I’m a convict, on the run from prison. No one comes to Risda III because the universe has given them a good shake. They come here to hide out, to hope the universe never notices them again. She could be asking me to steal something for her. To murder someone. To help her do any number of things, both sordid and not.
Instead, this fascinating human looks over at me with those big brown eyes. “We have to get married. Also, I need you to get me pregnant. Tonight, preferably.”
8
PIPER
His reaction to my proposal is…not encouraging.
I know it’s a lot to take in. I’m still processing all of it myself. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I’ve learned that I’m willing to do anything—anything at all—to save my farm and my freedom.
If that means springing a convict, marrying him, and then having him get me pregnant? I’m game.
It’s clearly a lot for him to absorb, though. I’ve had weeks to process this, to cry, and then to grimly accept my fate. I’ve been working on this plan for sleepless night after sleepless night, trying to figure out the best way to move forward while staying under the radar. It was Chloe—the wife of an alien named Jutari—who alerted me to their friend and his situation. That Jutari knew an old friend from Haven, which was a prison planet. That the man had escaped and been lying low on Risda and doing odd jobs, but he’d gotten scooped up by bounty hunters looking to make a quick buck on the side. He’s been rotting in jail for days now, about to be shipped off world and back to the prison.
His situation is desperate. Mine, too. Luckily for me, I know there’s a lot of shady things that happen behind closed doors, so it’s a problem that can be fixed with the right amount of money. I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere with the peace officers here if they’d known I was looking to get Vordigar specifically. They would have charged me a fortune and squeezed every last credit out of me that they could have.
So I played up the dumb, innocent human. I baked those fuckers cookies. I batted my lashes and pretended to be completely and utterly unsure of myself. I told them I needed a slave to run my farm, no questions asked, and they were all too happy to take my bribe. That’s how things go on the outer rim, I’ve learned. Credits pave the way for everything and laws can be completely circumvented with the right bribe. Now, Vordigar is mine.
Theoretically. Since it’s all under the table, my “ownership” of him is only going to last until he escapes. From the look of him, that won’t be long, either.
He rubs his wrist, silent, in the spot where he had the shock-bracelet on his hand. I try not to stare at him as my air-sled speeds over crop fields, heading toward my distant farm. I’m a few hours’ flight away from port, so I’ve got plenty of time to convince Vordigar he needs to stay with me.
“I know it’s a lot to throw at you at once,” I say. “But hear me out.”
“Oh, I’m listening.” He’s starting to recover, that sly grin returning to his mouth. He’s clearly the type that uses humor to deflect, but I don’t have time for fun and games. I notice he watches the countryside and eyes my air-sled’s control panel. He’s got a look on his face that tells me he’s already plotting his next move.