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“Relax.”
    “I cannot relax, and neither should you.” Allenton glared without breaking stride. “We cannot afford to draw attention to ourselves. Our only advantage is that the others don’t know we’re here.”
    That would have been an advantage, if it were still true. But Lor wasn’t nearly as convinced as Allenton. They’d been on Earth for six days and each lead they investigated seemed manipulated, as if they were being led around by their noses. “So who do you believe, the man behind the bar or the cocktail waitress?”
    On the second day after they arrived, Allenton had seen Nazerel speaking with an attractive woman with reddish-blonde hair. Allenton kept mostly out of sight, afraid Nazerel would realize he was being watched. Allenton’s caution had inadvertently limiting his view of the female. He’d shared the hazy image with Atimin , one of the other members of the Mystic Militia, and Atimin had attempted to draw her likeness. The drawing wasn’t detailed, though Allenton insisted it was accurate. They’d been using the drawing in an attempt to identify the female ever since. Atimin , and the other three team members, were pursuing other leads, but Allenton was convinced the red-haired woman was their best hope of finding the rebel hideout.
    “The waitress and bartender both identified the same woman,” Allenton grumbled. “What difference does it make if their stories have inconsistencies?”
    Lor shook his head. “The bartender agreed that the drawing could be Angie. He also pointed out that it could have been the female I was flirting with just now. Apparently, they are sisters.”
    “A fact we will explore if our other leads reveal nothing.” Allenton shoved open the gold-framed door and exited the casino.
    Knowing Allenton couldn’t see him, Lor indulged in a smile. “Exploring” the auburn-haired sister sounded extremely appealing, but Allenton was ignoring a basic fact. “The bartender also explained that Angie has been away for the past few days. She couldn’t have been the woman you saw with Nazerel.”
    Allenton stopped walking and faced him, his expression overtly hostile. “Just because she wasn’t at work doesn’t mean she wasn’t in the casino. Both accountings could be accurate. The bartender simply didn’t see her while the waitress did.”
    Lor didn’t argue the point, though it seemed unlikely. If someone was playing hooky, it was far more probable that they would avoid their workplace entirely. “So what’s our next move?” Lor was used to leading missions, but Allenton had made it obvious from the beginning that Lor was not part of the Mystic Militia. He was a consultant, an employee. After accepting the inaccuracy of the team’s name, Lor decided not to let the rest bother him. He’d grown up at the Conservatory, surrounded by passive Mystics. It would take more than a regimented bully to lure him into a pissing contest.
    “The cocktail waitress mentioned a dance club Angie frequents. I’ve actually seen her, so I’ll check for her there. You should go to the address the waitress gave us. See if there is any indication that Angie left town or has been the victim of a kidnapping.”
    The implication was obvious. Still, Lor hesitated to ask the question. “You think Nazerel already took her?”
    “Naz always liked to toy with the prey.” Allenton stared off into the distance, clearly lost in memory. “Hunts were supposed to be quick and clean, but Naz frequently broke the rules. He’d approach females, flirt and flatter until he’d earned their trust, then he’d capture them with little or no struggle. It was more of a challenge that way.”
    The casual description sent anger twisting through Lor. How had the Joint Council not seen these men for what they are, predators, criminals ? It infuriated him that the Shadow Assassins hadn’t been made to pay for all the lives they’d destroyed. Five cycles of military service was not adequate payment for