He waited until she made it into the house, then casually tried to separate himself from the group. He’d have no trouble finding her. He’d simply take a few sniffs and follow his nose.
He hoped he’d have a chance to shower and clean up. Unlike a real canine, he had sweat glands, and fur and body armor were an odious combination, especially below the Mason-Dixon. It was one of his quirks. He was very self-conscious and was obsessed with cleanliness and hygiene. Maybe it was because he assumed most humans saw him as an animal, no matter what. It didn’t matter how refined he spoke, how well-versed he was, or how meticulous he was with his grooming. It didn’t matter that he knew entire symphonies, could sing opera and quote Shakespeare, nor did the fact he was once the companion of a high-ranking Space Guard general. All they saw was a talking animal. In the big scheme of things, they saw no difference between him and Sherman.
Still, he didn’t hate them. It just made it that much sweeter when he fucked their women into slobbering, mindless sluts.
He was moving down the walkway as inconspicuously as possible, thinking he was home free when suddenly a hand reached out and slapped him across his black breastplate.
Frost!
“Where you headed?” the bounty hunter asked. Grant couldn’t tell if it was real suspicion he saw in the man’s eyes or just the usual wariness.
“I was just headed to get some chow and maybe a cup of Joe.” He held the man’s gaze. He’d learned to be a cunning liar during his time on Luna, amongst all the backstabbers and cutthroats at Authority Headquarters. It was all about body English and eye contact. Those were the most significant indicators that gave you away to anyone with any expertise. He figured Frost to be skilled in just such an analysis.
Frost shook his head. “Fuck that! We’re going back out. We’re gonna find that bushy-tailed bitch if it kills us all.”
“Sir, couldn’t we eat first?” Grant’s mind raced. A few minutes! I just need a few minutes …
“Grab some InstaChow on the way out,” Frost told him.
Damn! Talk about a cock block!
Frost continued, “She’s out there alone in a big, strange city … and those kids are gonna slow her down.” The merc’s eyes turned dark. “We’re not letting the trail get cold. Are we on the same frequency, soldier?”
Grant saw it was futile to argue. His sexual intentions were just going to have to wait.
“Very well, sir,” he sighed. “We’ll grab some fresh ammo packs and be on our way.”
He turned to Sherman, who was staring intently toward the house. The big behemoth was as still as a statue, but Grant knew looks were deceiving. He might look stupid and entranced, but the big bastard was actually as fast as lightning when he needed to be.
Grant followed his gaze to the house and through the polyglass walls of the kitchen area. Inside, Lulah was being given a cup of something steaming by a member of the kitchen staff. A housekeeper appeared and placed a blanket very gingerly over the woman’s shoulders.
Grant looked back to Sherman. Those usually-dull eyes had an unusual spark. Grant couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. Both of them enamored with women they couldn’t have.
“C’mon, big guy.” He patted the hulking beast’s shoulder pad. “She’ll be ok. Nobody’s gonna hurt her.”
“What if they do hurt sad lady?” Sherman asked.
Grant turned and looked back to the house and shrugged. “If they do … we’ll come back here and you can kill them all. Work for you?”
Sherman let out a long, deep, wistful sigh, like a whale blowing water out its blowhole. He looked down at Grant.
“Work for me,” he echoed. “Sherman kill all.” Without another word, he turned and walked back toward the gunship.
***
With his men preparing for the next mission, Frost turned his attention to Cutter.
“Got something you wanna say, Chief?” he asked the gangster.
“I don’t reckon I made myself clear,” Cutter replied, staring stonily at him and Denton. “I thought I told you Lulah was not to be a part of this. In fact, I think I’m fairly sure of it.”
“You’re not running this show, Hawkins,” Frost didn’t even bother to look at the man when he addressed him. Instead, he made the pretense of reading something on his PDC. In their line of work, it was the ultimate show of disrespect, and it didn’t go unnoticed. “You let your emotions cloud your judgment. You know this is the smart move. If Thomas loves this woman as much as you say, he’ll gladly trade up for her.”
“Thomas doesn’t have the vixen, you fuck wad,” Cutter snarled back. “Who knows where Thomas is? Who cares? If you’d let things be, I’d have had the bitch here now without blowing up the other half of Huntsville. Or is destroying shit just a way to cover up your incompetency, you two-bit man catcher!”
“You think rather highly of yourself, don’t ya?” Frost now turned to look at him, and when the men’s eyes met, Denton could almost see sparks as hatred met hatred. It made him quite uncomfortable, considering both men were armed, and both had a reputation for being quick to violence. The last thing he wanted was to get caught up in the crossfire. Someone killed accidentally was still just as dead as someone killed intentionally.
“Gentlemen, please!” He held up his hands, taking a conciliatory stance. “This is not the time or place. I’ll remind you that this is my home.”
“Well, you shouldn’t shit where you sleep, Senator!” Cutter told him, never taking his eyes off Frost.
“Mister Hawkins, if you’ll stop for a moment and think about it, Mister Frost is right. It only makes good sense. If Thomas does find the vixen before we do, we have a bargaining chip we didn’t have before.” The politician's side of him was kicking in, and he
