By William C. Dietz
Max Maxon is an ex-marine who makes his residing with a gun. Sasha Casad is a wealthy youngster attempting to capture the subsequent spaceship domestic. Max's task is to get her there alive. Somebody's attempting to cease them-somebody with lots of funds and firepower. that does not hassle Max. a freelance is a freelance. opposed to all odds, he'll satisfy this one. after which he'll make an individual pay.
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The door shook as something heavy hit it. “Get your clothes on. ” Sasha nodded, strode towards the side door, and disappeared inside. I drifted that way and caught a glimpse of a rumpled bed and the leather straps that had connected her hands to the headboard. She grabbed her tights and pulled them up around her waist. They were ripped. She nodded towards the straps. ” I nodded my understanding. The girl was more than I’d thought at first. She had guts, and I admired that. I gestured to our surroundings.
The connection had escaped me. I pretended it hadn’t. “Yeah. ” “It sure is. ” I frowned. ” She shook her head impatiently. ” “Oh,” I said stupidly. “That’s different. ” We looked, but the man was gone. Sasha frowned. ” I shrugged. “Beats me. ” Her eyes locked with mine. “I had the expense money. Until the corpies took it, that is. ” “Smart,” she said sarcastically. “Real god-damned smart. Phony names don’t mean shit when you give them an account number. The greenies have sympathizers everywhere.
She smiled. “If you like it, then yes, it is. Come. ” I turned and saw Sasha trying on a pair of black, high-topped sneakers. They were more practical than the high heels had been, and would be good for shipboard use. Or so I assumed, because in spite of the fact that I had spent several years in space, I couldn’t remember a thing about it. It was then that I noticed that the two young men still hovered in the background, and realized that Sasha was more than a girl; she was an attractive young woman.