Free Rebel Souls by D.L. Jackson Page A

muscle made it more than clear she wasn’t asleep, and even more clear she was alive and alone with a primal male.
    “I need you,” he whispered. “I’ve always needed you. Marry me.”
    Her stomach fluttered. She’d never suspected, never thought Brodie felt that way about her. “Brodie…I….”
    “You’ve always been more than my friend. Please don’t say it.” He stopped their dance and stared down into her eyes. “I’ll lose my mind if you say no,” he murmured, his blue eyes filled with heat, igniting an inferno in her stomach that bloomed through her. “Have mercy on my heart, Duchess.”
    “Yes,” she whispered and nodded. Inside, her stomach clenched. Was this right? Eighteen years she’d kept her innocence, and though Brodie didn’t feel like the one, she did love him. Perhaps something more could grow between them—that same thing she’d seen between her mother and father. There was only one way to find out. His hands slid into her hair, and he lowered his lips to hers, capturing her breath and will. Ava collapsed against him. Her palm still pressed against his chest where his heart thrummed underneath. Heat. Power. Seduction.
    That was her Brodie, her friend, someday her husband, and tonight—her lover .
     
    ***
     
    Ava stepped into the club and glanced around. She lifted her scarf over her nose and surveyed the room. Ever since Brodie was killed, the place had changed. Drugs were pumped intentionally through the vents, meant to lower inhibitions of the patrons and conceal the illegal activities of those who’d developed more of a resistance to them through continuous exposure. When Brodie owned the place, he’d never had allowed it. A ping of sadness bounced around inside her as she thought of her friend. Gods, she missed him. Life on New Xiera wasn’t the same without him.
    Actually, it had gotten worse. Places like the seedy club in the Blue District were well known to be hangouts for slave traders who preyed upon unwary tourists stupid enough to wander into them.
    Even if the drug didn’t affect her as badly as someone not used to it, she chose to inhale as little as possible. A clear head in this part of New Xiera meant the difference between freedom and finding yourself on a menu, or a slaver’s ship headed to an off-world market, as was her father’s unfortunate circumstance before he met her mother.
     
     
    Seth glanced over at Ava and followed suit, lifting the collar of his shirt over his mouth and nose. The common freighter’s shirts they both wore were designed to block dust and atmospheric pollutants. Nowhere near as efficient as his military issue respirator, but also not as obvious. She had to give him points for the foresight. At least he’d blend with some of the patrons in the room as every freighter had one version or another of the shirt, and they liked to hang out in the District. Plus, the charcoal lining would serve its purpose in the smoky bar, catching most of the drug and tempering its affect. Obviously, the Regulator had done his homework and came prepared. Another bit of information to tuck in the back of her head.
    Ava scanned the room, sweeping the area the same way she’d surveyed the street outside. Slavers sat in the corner, eyeing her like fresh pickings. She fixed them with a challenging stare and flicked her laser to kill. They quickly turned their attention to a table of female tourists, easier, more gullible prey. She’d warn the women before leaving and call a shuttle for them.
    “I thought you said not to set your laser from stun.” Seth’s voice snapped her back to reality.
    Ava turned to him. “I did. In here, it’s not good to leave it on the setting.”
    “Then why are we here?”
    “I have a date.” On the right, a group of miners laughed and joked, already halfway drunk on booze. Armed like a Terran Assault Squad, they could be a problem. Not as dangerous as the slavers, but someone definitely worth keeping an eye on. Good