Free Hot Redemption by K. D. Penn

way.
    â€œHere you go.” Opening the door, I stepped out of the bathroom.
    â€œT-thanks, Epic.” Randy raced in, clutching his crotch with a strained expression on his face.
    The transport to planet Trinity was a huge vehicle that could hold two hundred and fifty people and was divided into twenty-four large, closed-off sections labeled in the Greek alphabet, from alpha to omega. We were in section omega.
    My family sat in their seats, strapped in with double seatbelts that wrapped around their chest and waist. Shade and Toy hung out in seats behind the triplets. The guys were the last line of defense if any of the kids decided to sneak out of our section of the transport and mingle, or in other words, draw kiddie art on the slick tan walls, yank strangers’ hair, steal more cookies off the dessert tray, and overall discover some way to destroy the huge machine and our trip as much as possible.
    â€œEverybody okay?” I headed down the blue-carpeted aisle to my seat.
    â€œWe are,” the triplets sang in unison.
    On my left, Mimi read a picture book screen to my baby sister, Chloe. She was three years old. Mom carried and birthed her, then afterward, became sick. I’d quit my gig as lead singer with the band Chameleon and nursed mom for two years. At the end of the second year, she’d died in my arms, and Chameleon topped the galaxy music charts with their new singer. I had no regrets of spending those years with my mom. I learned more about her and got to say goodbye on my own terms, but when the bills piled up, I dreamed about what I could’ve done for my family if I’d stayed with Chameleon.
    â€œGood morning,” the pilot said over the speakers. “We’ll be departing shortly.”
    She’s not coming.
    I glanced over at Nix’s empty seat as I sat down in the one right next to it. After her interesting and pleasurable thank you, I’d rode home feeling like she’d blown my mind as well as my dick.
    She was no-nonsense. Other women would’ve lain on their back, opened their legs, and let me do anything I pleased. Next would’ve came hugging, kissing, listening to their problems, and then the awkward moment where I ease out of there with no promise of a repeat session. Nix had given me a thanks-for-the-ride-bub blow job and sent me on my way. I returned to her hotel room the next day with flowers and she was gone.
    The problem with her having a detailed ink tattoo like that is that men recognized and remembered her wherever she went. In fact, that was why we’d found her so easily the night she stole our money. We had cousins who were covered in electric-wired ink from their ankles to their necks. They existed deep within the tattooing community and knew all things related to the art on the planet. They’d given us a list of all tattoo parlors that still used ink.
    The first one we visited had an artist in there that hadn’t done the fire and bird but who’d seen Nix before and carried on a conversation with her. He’d been in awe of her ink and told us she lived deep in the core of Underside. Once we arrived in Underside, it cost a few dollars for bums to point us in the right direction.
    So two days ago, it took me only an hour to find her new room. I rode through the area and asked around for the sexy, dark-haired girl with a phoenix inked on her back. Some loser sent me to a luxury hotel on the edge of the city. When I walked in the lobby, I caught her fragrance—jasmine and roses. I’d just missed her, the receptionist explained, so I left Nix a message, the flowers, and a transport ticket to Trinity. She’d never called or left a message at the apartment.
    And she didn’t show up here. She could have at least called.
    I shut my eyes and eased into my seat, shoving the image of Nix on her knees out of my mind. That mouth. Don’t think about that soft, moist suctioning. I stirred in my seat. Her blow jobs