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   Chapter 26 No.26

Black Sunrise By Christina Engela Characters: 5338

Updated: 2018-06-30 12:01


This woman sure was something to look at. Sure, Beck had seen quite a few nice looking females on Deanna, but this one was… different. She kind of took his breath away and nearly his headache as well. The moment was turning into an awkward silence.

"What do you like to be called?" He smiled faintly.

"Winter." She replied. "Special Agent Winter, CIA. Please, sit down."

He pulled up a chair. He was getting uncomfortable, like he was at a job interview he hadn't known about or prepared for.

"Colonial Intelligence Agency, huh? How can I help you?" He asked politely, his curiosity getting peaked.

"I hear you're a bounty hunter. I also hear you're very good at it."

"I make enough to pay my taxes, if that's what you mean. You're not with the IRS as well, are you? On second thoughts, no – no, I don't make that much."

"You know anything about the Ruminarii, Mr Beck?" She continued, ignoring the remark. Not that beck had ever seen a representative of the Imperial Revenue Service out here before – much less one dressed like this.

He smiled back. "The species – or just the one that got away?"

* * *

This was a weird planet, even by Ruminarii standards. (Okay – especially by Ruminarii standards.) Marsh'k was running now. The gravel felt strange underfoot after so much time spent striding on a smooth, level deck and he'd already fallen three times. Besides, Ruminarii do not run as a habit, unless they are chasing something – or being chased by something – which truthfully didn't happen often – and then, mostly just from other Ruminarii. He had to admit that –

Live prisoners are a hell of a lot easier to bring in than dead ones, but I've always believed there's only one way to bring them in."

"Yes?"

"Any way I can."

Inside, she was tired and uncomfortable and – tired. This was just like her old life, except she was still Cindy-Mei. These weren't the good ol' days. It was like a bad flashback. It was just the hardness of it she rebelled against, the thing that made her leave her old life in the first place and begin her new one. All the masculine posturing and bravado. Intimidation was how men did it. Intimidation and force. Mystery was how women did things, mystery, sexual wiles, suggestion – or persuasion with a blunt object. That was why she'd been told this was never her kind of job. Some of her male colleagues had the cheek to tell her she didn't belong there anymore. Then they laughed at her, made insulting remarks and said that she never had. What really hurt was when some of the women joined in with them, supporting that load of patriarchal twaddle. She never felt more alone in her life.

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