Page 44 of Solan

“Boros will get a permanent ban on using our services. He’s not going to touch another human.”

“Agreed,” Heather said, “especially if he likes to hit and restrain women. Our ladies don’t sign up for that kind of treatment. They want a safe place, someone to look after them, and a mate who won’t hit them if they don’t follow his orders.”

“I should ban Solan, as well.”

“I don’t think you should punish Solan. He might have the wrong idea about you, but he helped us out.”

Vegas’s mouth twisted. Maybe Heather was right. He was a stubborn alien who didn’t listen to her, but he’d been stabbed twice while trying to protect her.

“If he agrees to accept the match we have chosen for him, then I’ll let him off. That’s providing he survives his fight with Boros.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have left them alone.” Heather glanced over her shoulder.

“They’ll be fine,” Vegas said. “Boros wants to have a public fight, not something furtive in a space station corridor. He wants to beat Solan and show off to everyone watching what a super stud he is.”

“He gives me the creeps. He’s so full of himself.”

“It’s a Galaxar trait.”

“It can be a human trait, as well.”

Vegas ignored that comment.

“What do we do now?” Heather asked.

“You need to get your face looked at. Make sure nothing is broken.”

“I’ll stick a nano-med patch on it and it will be fine,” Heather said. “Shouldn’t we figure out this Galaxar problem first?”

Vegas slowed. If word got back to Diadora about what was going on, she’d rip a new hole in Vegas. “We’re not far from the boss’s office.”

“We should report what’s going on.” Heather frowned. “Diadora will go mad if she finds out before you tell her what’s really happening.”

Heather was right. “I’ll recommend we have Boros and his troop removed and ensure Solan’s match goes ahead. We need to play this down. Diadora doesn’t need to know about Solan’s interest in me. We will say it was a misunderstanding, and things got heated.”

“Do I have to come with you?” Heather shuddered. “I forget how to form proper sentences when I’m standing in front of Diadora. She has that look in her eyes that makes me think she’s going to tear my head off with her cyborg arm.”

“Do not mention her cyborg arm. Ever.” Vegas had seen one woman reduced to tears when she’d asked an innocent question about what had happened to Diadora’s arm. Vegas had heard a rumor it was wrenched off by an angry alien.

“I won’t! I know how sensitive she is. But it still worries me.”

“If I’m facing her, then so are you. We’re in this together. Cyborg arm and all.”

“It’s a good job you’re my best friend,” Heather muttered as they walked along the corridor. “I wouldn’t risk her wrath for anybody else.”

“I wouldn’t ask anybody else to do this,” Vegas said. “We can handle Diadora between us.”

They stopped outside their boss’s office door. Vegas raised her eyebrows and nodded at Heather. She pressed the button, and the door slid open. They stepped into the reception area.

Genevieve Goodacre sat behind a desk, her hair pulled back in a neat blonde ponytail and her cream jumpsuit looking neatly pressed. She was Diadora’s impeccably turned out guard dog. If Diadora didn’t want to see you, she set Genevieve on you and you didn’t stand a chance.

A brief look of surprise crossed her face as she saw Vegas and Heather’s disheveled appearance. “It looks like you’ve had a busy day. Are you expected?”

“No. We have a small situation Diadora needs to be aware of. Is she available?” Vegas self-consciously stroked down the crumpled material of her jumpsuit as she approached the desk with Heather. She always felt like she’d gotten dressed in the dark every time she met Genevieve.

“She’s still here. She’s going over tomorrow’s work schedule.” Genevieve’s gaze went from Vegas to Heather. “Have you been fighting?”

“Only by accident,” Heather said.