Free Captured Rapture: 3 (Mercy) by Lexxie Couper

armor jacket he wore.
Obviously, being a lowlife criminal git meant he was paranoid about getting
stabbed in the back. I grinned, looking forward to proving that paranoia
correct.
    Fraz grinned as well, doing his
best to look apologetic. “I like the view,” I heard him answer. He shifted his
position slightly, adjusting his hands in his pockets. I knew he was adjusting
his grip on his small but ridiculously lethal de-atomizer pistol, but what
would our perp think?
    “Big fuckin’ view of nothing,”
grumbled our crook with the anal probe fetish.
    I couldn’t see his face, but
something about his voice made my gut itch again. I ground my teeth. Damn it.
Something just felt…
    “You got the device?”
    I cocked an eyebrow, forcing my
focus on the dealer’s back. Device ? Now that was one name for a probe
I’d never heard before.
    Fraz pulled his left hand out of
his pocket, holding up a long, thin object wrapped in soft black syntho-silk.
“Right here.”
    The perp’s spine stiffened, and I
slid my fingers around the grip of my disruptor. “Lemme see it.”
    “Uh-uh.” Fraz shook his head.
“Gotta pay before you play.”
    I saw the perp’s wide shoulders
bunch and his right hand moved to his right hip, his left hand a balled fist by
his side. “Shoulda known this was gonna be a pain in the ass. You damn Bo’aas
are all the same.”
    Fraz’s eyes narrowed to slits and I
held my breath. This could go pear-shaped real quickly. “The only pain in the
ass,” Fraz stated, jiggling the long, black parcel in his grip, “will be yours
when you cough up the credits.”
    I gritted my teeth. You had to give
it to Fraz—he had a certain charm.
    The perp’s hand moved closer to his
hip, and I slowly slid my disruptor from its holster. “ Fuckin’ Bo’aas,”
I heard him mutter before his hand dipped into a concealed pocket.
    I targeted my weapon directly on
the back of his neck, right above the edge of his armored jacket. If he pulled
a gun, his head was going bye-bye.
    He withdrew his hand, and I let out
a silent breath. A credit chip. Shiny one. “How much?”
    Fraz snorted, folding his arms
across his wide chest, his orange scales shimmering with a contemptuous red
sheen. “Two things, my good buddy. This isn’t Level Seven, credit chip’s not
going to cut it. And the price is eight seventy-five.”
    The perp’s hand froze. In fact, his
whole body seemed to suddenly snap into a statue. A fat-assed, scum-bastard
statue. “You’re kidding?”
    Fraz shook his head. “You want
ultimate ass pleasure, you pay ultimate credit.” He uncrossed his ankles and
leaned forward just a tad, as if sharing a secret. “You do know the thing’s
illegal, don’t you?”
    Our spice dealer snarled. But he
didn’t move and I couldn’t help but smile. He wanted his anal probe bad. Time
to reel him in.
    Fraz shook his head again and
pushed himself from the viewing wall, sliding the syntho-silk-wrapped object
back into his trousers. “Too slow, my good buddy. You don’t want it, someone
else surely will.” He gave the perp a lipless smirk. “Especially one of this
quality.”
    That was my cue. I shoved my disruptor
into its hidden holster and stormed forward, making my breath shallow and rapid
as I did so. I smacked into the dealer’s shoulder, bounced off him a little,
feigning complete ignorance of his existence as I locked my wide, wild-eyed
stare on my partner. “You fucking selfish prick!” I yelled, punching him square
in the chest with my palms. “You fucking used the last of the spice!”
    “ Shyte , you dumb cunt,” Fraz
snarled, shooting the dealer a harried look. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
    I flung the perp an indifferent
glance over my shoulder, hoping my eyes portrayed desperate insanity. The scary
thing was, I knew they did. I was drawing the wild emotion from a place deep in
my soul that I suspected would rule me for the rest of my life. I was an addict,
but spice wasn’t my hit.
    I turned back