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Humans are infinitely more expendable. If a woman wears out, you can find twenty more just like her looking for work.

    The one working our table looks pretty close to busted. As if she feels my stare, she meets my eyes, but she doesn’t have enough spark left in her to mind. Her gaze slides away from mine as she trudges on back to the kitchen to schlep the next tray.

    March drums his fingers, looking thoughtful. “He’s ambitious then.”

    “And I’m his cat’s-paw.” The guys glance at me in surprise, as if they’ve forgotten about me. We can’t have that, can we? “What else is new?”

    “You certainly have a history of finding trouble,” Surge says.

    Annoyance sparks through me. This prick doesn’t know the first thing about me, other than what he’s read or seen on the vids. And okay, maybe things tend to unravel at the seams wherever I go, but is that my fault?

    “Lay off her,” March says. He’s smiling, and his tone remains deceptively gentle. “You don’t want to make her mad.”

    I liked how he began, but now I’m not sure where he’s going with this. If he expects me to put on a show— You know, honey, do bitchy Jax for my buddies, come on!— well, that’s just not happening. I’m too tired.

    Surge regards me with bloodshot eyes, a forest bristling from his jaw. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

    “Because if you upset her, you’ll have to deal with me. And I don’t think you want that.”

    We’re in no position to pick a fight with the people who are helping us. Then again, I suspect I don’t get the whole guy thing, because Surge cracks up again. Fucking men, right?

    “Shit, she’s got you trained right and tight, lad. When you donning the collar?”

    With a sigh, I down the rest of my spiked tea and feel the warmth washing over me. It’s been a while since I drank anything this strong.

    “Jax doesn’t believe in that,” March answers.

    “I did once. It didn’t work out.” I scowl, thinking of Simon. “I don’t suppose you know people who could get to him? He’s being held in a secure facility.” It’s a throwaway remark, one I don’t expect to bear fruit. I should have known better. These are former mercs, after all.

    “There’s always a way,” Surge tells me with a wicked smile. “But it’ll cost. Depends on where, of course, but we probably know someone doing time same as your ex. How bad do you want the man done?”

     
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    CHAPTER 7

    l’d love to see Simon dead.

    When his superiors asked for a scapegoat, he tried to sacrifice me. He knew they planned to murder everyone on the Sargasso , and he decided to rid himself of me as well. There were probably insurance payments to collect, my death benefits. Mary knows he cleaned out my personal accounts before my alleged body was cold.

    He deserves to suffer in ways I can’t articulate for what he’s done. Seventy-five souls trusted us to get them safely to Matins IV. Eighty-two died in the crash.

    Even now, I still have dreams. I wake up screaming, and I can’t stand the smell of cooking meat. March watches me thinking it over, and I’m sure he’s tapped into my blood-thirsty thoughts. Then it occurs to me. Doesn’t matter how bad I’d like to get this dirty job done. I can’t afford it.

    I’ll have to content myself with imagining bad things happening to the bastard. If he’s been sent to Whitefish, I won’t have to wait long, though. Someone will shank him for being an officious little prick.

    “I’ll think about it,” I say, because there’s no way I’m telling Surge about my temporary financial embarrassment.

    The merc looks disappointed. “Right, then. Another round?”

    “One for the road,” March answers. His expression becomes speculative. “What would you suggest for someone in deep to the Syndicate?”

    “A Eutha-booth.” Luckily, the other man has his eye on March while he laughs, so he doesn’t catch my wince. There are home truths, and home truths, if