Free Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) by Jacqueline Rhoades Page B

was perfectly tight and perfectly rounded. She wished her sister was here to see it so they could share a good giggle later over a cup of tea.
    From the corner of her eye, she caught Mohawk watching her with a sly and lopsided grin. She blushed.
    "Good to see you ain't dead," he said in English.
    "Aren't," she corrected automatically.
    "What?" Tor turned from the fire.
    "Ain't is an improper contraction used for am not or are not," she explained. "Mohawk picked it up from the kids."
    Tor's brow furrowed. "You've mentioned them before. What kind of goats are these?"
    Mohawk snorted and stuck out his tongue, another bad habit learned from the kids.
    "Guilty," Wynne laughed. "Kids is an improper word for children. We call it slang."
    He looked surprised. "You have children?"
    "Yes."
    "No." Mohawk's answer fell on top of hers. "They're orphans found on the street. She and her sister took them in."
    Wynne didn't see the difference, but Mohawk's denial was so adamant, she thought it best not to argue.
    "No spouse, either," the old man added, cutting her off again. "Is that meat done?"
    She still wasn't sure what Mohawk's problem was, but sensed that it wasn't the time to question. His change in subject left an opening for her own.
    "You were telling us how you came to be on the Romer, Tor." She kept her voice neutral and smiled when he rolled his eyes and issued a defeated sigh.
    He handed a stick of meat to Mohawk after offering it first to her. She declined. He shrugged in resignation.
    "After I told Orax the deal was off, we clasped arms. No hard feelings. He'd let me know when he had something more to my liking. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in an alley outside Masholo Spaceport and my ship and crew are gone. I've spent the last two cycles and my last credit tracking them down."
    A cycle was about ten days on Earth. He'd spent three weeks searching.
    "What did the police say?" she asked. "You reported it, right?"
    "They're called GC Peacekeepers, Wynne," Mohawk corrected.
    "And it's not like I have many friends among the ranks," Tor added.
    "Because you're a smuggler," Wynne made her point.
    Tor didn't deny it. "It does have its drawbacks." He stood and began to pace. "I caught a whiff of rumor about Orax asking questions about the Romer II. Nobody knew what it was about, but it came up just often enough that I thought it might be true."
    "So you bought a ticket based on a rumor." Wynne didn't believe it. She knew how much their tickets cost. It was fortunate her soon to be brother-in-law was not only wealthy, but generous. Space travel was not cheap.
    "Hell no. I told you I'd spent my last credit. I wagered my timepiece against a guy's uniform in a round of Sus Stones."
    At last, something Wynne recognized. Played with six-sided dice, Sus Stones was a game similar to Craps. She'd watched soldiers play it, but hadn't yet figured out the rules. A grinning Mohawk spoke before she could.
    "Steward? Midshipman?"
    "Eggs."
    "Eggs?" she and Mohawk asked together.
    "Yep," Tor said, looking very cocky and proud of himself. "Reed is the last large spaceport before reaching Dendor where the sleeper ships orbit. You pay that much for the journey, you expect fresh food, yeah?" He nodded in answer to his own question. "The guy bragged about the money he and his brother were making supplying eggs to the passenger vessels. I wagered my timepiece against his uniform."
    "You wagered everything on a roll of the dice, um, stones."
    "What did I have to lose?"
    Hands on hips, Wynne nodded at his empty wrist. "Your watch, apparently."
    Instead of answering, he turned to Mohawk. "This is your fault. Before you got here, she was sweet, almost fun."
    Wow. Really? He thought she was sweet, almost fun? Wait a minute. Almost?
    "Almost?" she asked aloud. "Would I get an upgrade if I'd said yes?"
    His back to Mohawk, Tor winked at her. "Remains to be seen, doesn't it?"
    "Lots of people think she's sweet," Mohawk mumbled around another piece of meat he'd