No Rules Read Free

studied his credit chips. “I have over a million drachmas here.”
    It would have to be enough. “Those are my terms. Take it or leave it.”
    Reed whistled low and placed his cards facedown. “Too rich for my blood. Think I’ll rustle up some company of my own. See you in the morning, Del.”
    Fenton nodded once. If Lady Luck was on his side, he would never see Reed again.
    Mig studied him and he blanked his mind as he stared back, the moment stretching out endlessly.
    â€œAgreed. All in and the girl, for a guide to the palace on Hosta and back again.” Mig pushed his drachmas to the middle of the table. “Let’s see your cards.”
    Fenton pushed his own neatly regimented stacks forward. “Your grand idea, you go first.”
    Mig licked his lip. The whore held her breath. He winked at her as he laid down a glider streak, with a Regent on high. “Sorry, buck-o, only one hand beats that.”
    Fenton stared at the cards impassively. “You’re right.” He looked up at the woman. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œNot your fault.” Clutching her injured arm, she wavered on her feet.
    Laying down his cards without any theatrics, he continued, “Sorry, but you’ve had a change of plans this evening.”
    â€œImpossible!” The Hibariate raged as he studied the complete cataclysm, Overlord to Slave. “The odds of drawing that hand are astronomical! You must have cheated!”
    Fenton was already on his feet, with his arm around the woman. “Careful, Mig. I’m part of the military contingent here on Pental. Accusing a soldier of cheating is the equivalent of issuing a dueling challenge. And I am an expert marksman.”
    The Hibariate seethed as Fenton led the whore to the cash-out table. Issuing an order to have his winnings transferred to his credit account, he then retrieved his coat. “Do you have a cloak?”
    â€œUpstairs.” Her voice was faint.
    Absently touching the scar along the side of his face, he muttered, “You don’t have to come home with me. He’s paid for you either way.”
    She pulled herself up out of her daze, squared her shoulders, and extended a hand to him. “My name’s Alison.”
    â€œAlison.” He brought her thin, white hand to his lips, enjoying the smooth texture of her soft skin. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

2
    T hough she knew better than to leave the casino with a john, Alison didn’t look back as Del Fenton led her out of the main gambling area, toward the exit. Staying at the brothel didn’t seem like the best course of action anymore. Her heart still pounded frantically after her near miss with the little bastard and his shark-like teeth. She cradled her aching arm against her chest. Fenton draped his coat around her shoulders and took her uninjured hand in his as he led her out the door into the street. She didn’t know why he was being so nice to her—it certainly wasn’t common on Pental for a man to treat a whore with respect—but she was smart enough to accept it for an hour, a night, a year, or however long it lasted.
    He’d just won a million credits. By Alison’s recently reassessed standards of care, he could afford to keep her for a very, very long time. Ignoring the part of her that chafed at the thought of being kept by any man, she set her sights on doing her damndest to make sure she made herself worth his trouble. Pride had no place in a game of survival.
    â€œThank you for saving me. When Madam Brizella told me to entertain him, I had no idea what he would be like.”
    Fenton released her hand and she immediately missed the warmth. “Brizella is one of the only madams who will cater to Mig and his unusual . . . appetites. She’s always looking for new blood to throw his way, because he can pay for it. With diplomatic immunity, the military can’t stop him. I’m surprised her