Hearts Akilter Read Free Page B

micro-techs. Was she so skilled she chose implants for both eyes? Or was she a cyborg?
    He took a closer look at her loose-fitting coveralls for any enticing feminine attributes, but there didn’t seem to be any of note. What was noteworthy was the number of gold chevrons under her sleeve’s MRMT patch.
    Likely not a cyborg, but too dedicated to her job and too brainy by half.
    When she leaned forward to give the bartender her order, light flickered off something white holding her hair in an unkempt knot at the back of her head.
    A bio-bundle tie.
    Leave it to a geeky tech to improvise. He almost chuckled but stopped himself. He had to look like a stoic drunk and keep his wits about him if he hoped to catch the person trying to kill him.
    With a flourish, another tune erupted out of the speakers.
    As he reached for his whiskey, the tingling spray misted his burns. Only the sensation was cold enough that gooseflesh raced up his spine. To quell the feeling, he swigged down the rest of his whiskey. A flash of warmth filled his veins.
    It was time to go. Time to catch the pervert who wanted to kill him.
    He stood up, swaying for effect. With senses heightened, he wove slowly around tables and exited by the main door.
    No one followed him out.
    A momentary flood of disappointment rushed over him, but he kept the guise of walking drunkenly to the lift.
    Ahead was a corridor intersection. That junction would be an excellent place for an ambush.
    What if the killer had an accomplice in the bar? One now sending a message to alert the hit man?
    Senses straining, muscles at the ready, he continued toward the lift.
    One more step…
    No one sprang out of either side of the crossing corridor.
    Disappointment again washed over him.
    Arriving at the lift, he triggered the call button. The doors opened, and he took a deliberately slow, giant step into the lift. Sometimes pretending to be drunk was fun. He grinned and did a drunken two-step shuffle toward the back of the lift, reeled about, and made his way to the lift’s control panel. He teetered to a stop and circled his finger in the air twice before striking the door’s close button.
    Seconds later, through the ever-narrowing gap of the closing doors, the bedraggled female tech, the one he’d seen enter the bar, rushed in.
    Why hadn’t he heard her approach?
    As she passed him, he glanced at her feet.
    Atarq boots. Ones with special, foam-like soles that allowed climbing and balancing on the station’s interior bulkhead walls, and which also made it impossible to hear techs walking the decks.
    He watched the booted feet until the woman stopped at the back of the lift and faced him. When he shifted his gaze to her face, the optic glass of her irises seemed like jet-black onyx mirrors.
    Fascinating eyes. Bewitchingly lovely eyes…
    Only those eyes weren’t focusing on him.
    Why isn’t she looking at me?
    Instinct whispered that she wasn’t a threat, that he ought to get to know her.
    Stupid thought. If he weren’t careful, his libido would sidetrack him into a coffin. To find out if she was friend or foe, he should force the issue. Yes. Force the issue. And there was nothing like driving a tech-geek nuts to do that.
    He cleared his throat, which had her looking at him. Grinning his best drunken-shit-eating-grin at her, he faced the control panel. As fast as he could, and at random, he punched buttons.
    The lift began to drop, bucked to a halt, and dropped again.
    “You idiot!” The woman lunged toward him, but without a weapon in hand. She grabbed the sleeve of his injured arm, pulled him back with a strength that belied her size, and released him.
    The lift jerked twice in rapid succession.
    He lost his balance and slammed sideways against the wall. Grabbing the back railing, he steadied himself. A second later, he felt weightless.
    Oh, hell. The lift was in a free fall!
    Glancing at the woman, he found her releasing the emergency button, but it wasn’t lit. She thrust her