Free Stalker's Luck (Solitude Saga Book 1) by Chris Strange Page B

from her lips with a trembling hand.
    “If you don’t like it,” he said, “I can return you to the street in the condition I found you in. Is that what you want?”
    Her eyes found his. “Fuck you, Roy. Fuck you.”
    He stepped forward. She cocked her wrist to toss the vodka in his face. But before she could, he grabbed hold of her wrist. He could feel her soft flesh bruise as she tried to twist away.
    “Find out who he is,” he said. “And make sure I’m not disturbed again.”
    He grabbed the glass of vodka out of her hand and poured the burning liquid down his throat. She glared and twisted her hand free.
    “Yes, sir,” she spat.
    He shoved the empty glass into her hand and turned, crouching to pass through the hole separating their apartments. Hudson stared at him as he came back into the dim apartment. His stink filled the air.
    “Now,” Roy said as he pushed the panel closed and picked up the wrench. “Where were we? Ah, yes. You were telling me how to get to Leone.”
    Hudson began to sob.

8
    Dom couldn’t believe how much food the tiny augment managed to pack away. He’d already been through two bowls of egg fried rice and he was starting on his third. An empty pitcher of beer sat on the small ship table in front of him. Dom folded her arms as she watched him. He was going to eat them out of the damn ship.
    “You wouldn’t believe the shit they tried to get away with feeding me,” Knox said around a mouthful of rice. “No meat, no vegetables. I don’t even know what it was. Metal filings and cardboard, probably.” He nudged his pitcher. “Fill her up, will you?”
    “We’re out of beer,” she said.
    “Come on, stalker, don’t be stingy. I saw those bottles in the fridge.”
    “They’re not mine. They’re my shipmate’s.”
    “He won’t mind. Come on. We’re partners now. Share and share alike.”
    Dom suppressed an urge to throttle the augment. She pulled a bottle out of the fridge and slammed it down on the table in front of him. “Here.”
    He held up his fingers, the implanted wires winding around his palm. “Does it look like I’ve got a bottle opener on here?”
    She gritted her teeth, jammed the edge of the bottle cap against the lip of the table, and slammed her hand down. The blow sent the cap flying across the ship’s kitchen. Foam bubbled out of the neck of the bottle.
    “Better?” she said, setting it down.
    “Much.” He grinned and picked it up. “Cheers.”
    The airlock hissed and familiar footsteps clanged on the catwalk. She’d never been so glad to hear Eddie come home. The writer stepped through the hatch into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. He stopped and stared at the augment.
    “Freckles, why is there a midget in my chair?”
    Knox slowly lowered his beer and turned to face Eddie. “I take offence to that, friend.”
    Eddie gave Knox a bored glance, then returned his attention to Dom. “And now it’s talking. You know how I feel about midgets sitting in my chair, Freckles.” His eyes narrowed. “And is that my beer it’s drinking?”
    “Shut up and take my chair,” she said. “We need to talk.”
    “That’s your chair. I want my chair.”
    She rubbed her forehead. “Since when do you even have a chair?”
    “Since this little can opener decided to sit in it.” He waved his hands at Knox. “Go on. Move. Shoo. Don’t make me get the bug spray.”
    Knox took a long pull of his beer and addressed Dom. “This is the writer? I thought he’d be a little more cultured. At least more cultured than you. You stalkers are a boorish lot.”
    She was fed up. “You, shut up,” she said, pointing at Knox. “Eddie, sit down before I make you sit down.”
    Eddie continued to glare for a moment. Then he shrugged, strolled around to the other side of the table, and plonked himself down in the seat. He leaned back and put his feet on the table, right next to Knox’s bowl of fried rice. The augment scowled.
    “Are you boys done?” Dom