Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Something about the woman set off alarm bells for Connor. It could have been nothing—maybe just a sense of familiarity he couldn’t place or the way she carried her duffel bag. In the dark of night, with only the light coming from the Lucky Sevens’s loading ramp and cargo bay, there was no way to get a good look at her because he realized she had a hood on.
Connor assumed the worst, which meant he had to act fast. “Hold it!”
Jolts like little static shocks ran through his arms and legs. His attention drew down on nothing but this mysterious woman.
He inserted himself directly in her path, hands thrust out at arms length. If she tried to run around him, he was ready to tackle her. If she threw the bag, he could get to it before it went over his head.
Nothing was going to hurt his team.
Now that he was closer, he caught her scent: unwashed, dirty. Dark, greasy hair fell below the hood and swung sluggishly in the breeze. Even the sound of her shoes sounded wrong—an uneven scuff where one hit hard and sharp and the other barely whispered.
She slowed, made a wordless noise like a growl, but kept coming.
“I said hold it!” Connor dug his deepest voice from deep within.
He was ready to strike. Killing wasn’t out of the question.
The woman bumped her chest against his hands. “You’re looking for an engineer.” Her breath was eye watering, like something belched from a sewer. The smell clung. It carried a taste—sulfuric, like spoiled eggs.
An engineer? She’d come for the ad?
Connor dropped his hands awkwardly. “You have certifications? Credentials?”
She dropped her duffel bag and pulled out a pocket computer that looked every bit as ancient and battered as her clothing and duffel back. With some effort, she accessed the computer and swiped a finger toward him.
The uneven glow of the display revealed cracked and grungy fingernails.
But she’d sent him something.
He was reluctant to open the message, even though his computer showed an encrypted package with no known threats. All he could think about was the foul breath when she’d spoken and the greasy clothes that stank like she’d worn them uninterrupted for a year.
When he opened the message, her certificates showed up.
And so did her name.
Connor stepped back. “Drew. Drew Francon?”
She pulled back the hood, revealing a pockmarked face that was still soft despite the obvious loss of substantial weight. Her dark eyes seemed sunken, and there was the weight of many more years in her gaze than made sense given how recently he’d seen her.
A hardness was in those eyes for a second, but it quickly faded. “You remember me?”
“Yeah. How’d you get to Mara?”
The woman’s grimy fingers brushed greasy strands of hair back over her ears. “When you get fired and have your reputation crapped all over, you go where the work is—whatever work you can take.”
“I—I’m sorry. Selen was really mad about what happened.”
Drew turned away. “I know. I didn’t say you were wrong.”
Connor felt the urge to look over his shoulder, to see if Selen was still watching from the top of the ramp. She had to be. “I don’t know if that’s changed. I mean, it probably had a few months ago, but she’s in a bad place right now.”
“The ad made it sound desperate. I wouldn’t come otherwise. Did anyone else apply?”
“No.”
And no one would. She looked as desperate as they were. Losing people at such a sensitive time…
Drew moved closer, her stench enough to make a strong man gag. “I need this, Connor. I’ve been living down in Winter the last year. I’ve been doing anything—everything—to make ends meet.”
Things moved in her hair. Small scabs covered her cheeks and throat.
How desperate did a man have to be for that? How strong did she have to be to survive it?
But she hadn’t been strong a few years ago. She’d fallen into the pit dug by revel—the worst of the easy drugs. Revel stole your mind and sapped your willpower. It made you clumsy and forgetful.
It cost Drew her a career.
Connor looked over his shoulder and sucked in a breath. Selen was halfway down the ramp, squinting. The others were watching, too.
He exhaled, then sucked in another breath before turning back. “Drew—”
“I—I need a second chance, Connor. It’s all I ask. I’ll do anything.” She swallowed, the tremolo in her voice haunting.
“People don’t forget mistakes like that.”
Mistakes that cost the team money, he meant. Mistakes that cost them jobs.
How hypocritical was that? Drew wasn’t saying she hadn’t made a mistake before. She was accepting her failure and asking for another chance. That wasn’t any different than him.
Turning her away wasn’t just a betrayal of the teachings of Wentz, who’d laid down his life for people like Drew: The dregs and effluvium of a society concerned only with enriching the winners. Turning her away was a betrayal of basic human decency.
Connor grabbed Drew’s bag, ignoring how slick the handles felt. Grime washed away, but betrayal stayed with the soul forever.
Rudy, Vicente, and Yemi scowled at the disgraced engineer. They recognized her and remembered what she’d cost them.
Selen pushed between the men and puffed her cheeks out. “No, Connor.”
“She still has her certifications.”
Drew brushed against him as she pushed forward. “They’re renewed. I paid for training.”
The other men recoiled but still hung on to their anger.
This wasn’t right. Someone had to stand up for her.
Connor squared his shoulders. “We need an engineer. You advertised for it, she applied. By rights, we should take her in.”
Just as he’d expected, Selen stiffened. Her chin came up. “No.”
“What do we do, then? Look at her. Hasn’t she been punished?”
“She did it to herself.”
There were words unspoken in Selen’s reply: Just like you did. Connor heard that in his head, as clearly as if she’d said it.
The life of the mercenary is brutal and often short. Mistakes weren’t tolerated.
He had an obligation here. The choice was obvious.
Connor squeezed the handles of the duffel bag. “If she goes, then I have to go.”