Page 53 of Solan

Mitchell scrubbed his chin with a hand. “I hate to do this, Vegas, but I’ve been asked to detain you.”

Vegas backed up the ramp, feeling her escape route cut off. “Why?”

Ivanna held her weapon loosely by her side. “We’re just following orders.”

Dread clutched at her stomach. “Whose orders?”

“Miss Hardwick. She’s insisting you remain on the space station. Your travel permit has been canceled, along with Miss Roberts. Is she with you?”

“No. I haven’t seen her. Why do you want her?” Vegas was glad she’d sent Heather to get her stuff. Maybe Heather could escape Diadora’s wrath when she learned she wasn’t sneaking onto an alien ship with Vegas.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Mitchell said. “Miss Hardwick insists you are to remain on the station.”

Vegas glanced over Mitchell’s shoulder. Heather stood in the entrance to the docking bay, a bag clutched in her hand and a horrified look on her face.

Discreetly, Vegas shook her head. Heather backed up several steps before sliding back around the corner and out of sight.

Vegas sighed. At least Heather wouldn’t get in trouble. “You’re arresting me? I can’t leave the station?”

Mitchell nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. You’re to come with us. We have to take you to a holding cell.”

Chapter 14

Her quarters were empty. The office she used for work was unoccupied. Solan had checked every single training room. There was no sign of Vegas.

Solan stomped around his quarters, the room feeling too small and the air cold. After his encounter with Boros, he’d been in a rage. His violent outburst must have scared Vegas away.

Solan shook his head. Vegas knew better than that. He was a Galaxar. He couldn’t change what he was. When something he wanted was harmed or put in danger, he would protect it. It didn’t matter to him that she was yet to acknowledge their commitment to each other.

“You can’t think of anywhere else she might be?” Padam sat on the couch, watching Solan stride around.

“There is nowhere else. She can’t simply have vanished.”

“You don’t think Boros got to her?”

Solan growled. “He wouldn’t have the courage to try to take her. He knows I have a claim. We are to fight for the right to have Vegas.”

“Boros isn’t bothered about claims on things,” Padam said. “Do you remember when he stole the Retar metal shipment? It didn’t bother him that it was owned by someone else. I imagine he feels the same now he’s found a mate he desires.”

“He does not deserve to be a brigadier. He should be stripped of his rank.” Galaxars admired loyalty. Boros’s behavior was anything but loyal. He thought of himself first and the material gains he would receive.

“You should sit down,” Padam said. “Don’t forget you were stabbed.”

“The wounds do not bother me. They have been treated.” Solan didn’t care that Boros’s guards had stabbed him. The wounds were well on the way to healing, thanks to the nano-med patches carried on the station. It was a common technology used on his own planet and meant any battle wounds could heal in hours as opposed to weeks.

Padam leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Have you considered that you need to approach Vegas in a different manner?”

“Different how?” Solan continued to pace.

“Humans are different from the females we are used to. I have watched all the info pods provided by My Single Alien. Some of their behaviors and habits are bizarre. You need to be more accommodating to the way Vegas feels.”

“Vegas is a stubborn, reckless human. She is refusing to see the benefits of our match. How can I accommodate that?”

“You could try wooing her.”

Solan slowed his pacing. The universal translator chewed on the word. “What is wooing?”

“We watched info pods with examples of wooing,” Padam said. “Giving pieces of bread to feathered creatures. Holding hands. Taking long walks in the park. Eating together, followed by dancing or mating. Have you suggested any of this to Vegas?”