She was tall, about six feet, and slender. Unlike most of the women in the marketplace, who’d been wearing vibrant and patterned skirts and tunics, she was garbed similarly to the men. Where their shirts were bright, hers was plain. To make it easier to blend in?
If that was her goal, she’d failed. This was a woman who would never fade into the background. Not with her exotic features. Her skin was lighter than most of the population, hinting at mixed parentage. Her hair was a profusion of skinny black and red braids that were pulled away from her face and hung behind her shoulders. But it was her brilliant green eyes that captured his attention and held it. They held a combination of acceptance and wisdom that only came from a hard life.
“Stay out of this, Jamaeh. It’s not your business.”
Zaxe was inclined to agree. The last thing he wanted was for someone to get hurt on his behalf. Ignoring Samar—and it was good to have a name to go with the face—Jamaeh came to stand beside him.
“You shouldn’t get involved.” The slightest hint of honey and mint teased his nostrils, making his mouth water for a taste of her. Then his brain kicked in, warning she might well be a part of this scam.
She hooked her arm around his and smiled. “Sorry I lost you back at the marketplace.” Giving Samar and his buddies her attention, she continued, “He’s a business associate. I’m sure you understand.”
Why was she lying? Was she really trying to be helpful or did she have motives of her own?
But Samar was shaking his head. “Sorry, Jamaeh, but he doesn’t get a pass. And neither do you.” His gaze turned calculating. “I might be persuaded to overlook it.” He leered, running his gaze over her body, leaving no doubt as to what he wanted.
Her arm stiffened, but she gave no other outward sign of being bothered. “Now, Samar, we’ve had this discussion before. That’s not going to happen in this lifetime or the next.”
“Oh, it will. You think you’re so much better than us, but you’re nothing but a bastard half-breed. It’s only a matter of time before you’ll be begging for my attention.” He cupped the bulge in his pants, making plain what his demands would be.
“Enough.” Zaxe’s voice was low but filled with command.
Samar shook his head. “I say when it’s enough.”
The braying of a mulkey and the clatter of wheels announced the arrival of more people. The beasts of burden, known for their placid manner and ability to survive on little water, were bred and traded on many worlds.
“This isn’t over,” Samar warned before spinning around and heading back the way he’d come, his friends right behind him. Interesting that they didn’t want an audience. Or were they using the arrival to beat a retreat and save face?
“You’ve made an enemy,” Jamaeh cautioned as they disappeared from sight.
“So have you.” Zaxe was more concerned about her than himself. He’d be leaving. She lived here.
A cart rolled around the bend in the road, carrying two men, the mulkey plodding along, his shod hoofs clacking against the hard ground. The driver of the cart perched on the bench seat and nodded as he passed.
“Samar has been trouble for me since we were kids. I can handle him.”
Zaxe wasn’t so sure. The man hadn’t liked being called out in front of his friends, especially not by a stranger and a woman.
He should be on his way back to his ship, but he needed the answer to one question first. “Why did you get involved?”
She squinted against the sunlight as she stared up at him. “I was watching you in the marketplace.”
****
Shut up!
Her heart pounding from her run-in with Samar and his pals, head spinning from being so close to the stranger, she spit the truth out without thought.
That was a first.
Not that she lied on a regular basis, but she’d learned from a young age to keep her mouth shut, to say only as much as necessary. The less people knew about you, the less they had to use against you. And information could sometimes be bartered for food and money.
It was one of many ways she’d managed to shelter and feed her family.
Hurrying to cover up her mistake, she smiled. “I mean, I saw you. At the harira stall. I know all the locals and you’re not from here.”
She wished she could see his eyes. It would give her a better idea what he was thinking, but they were covered by his sunshades. Expensive ones. His clothing was similar to hers but much better quality. Being poor as a child and a trader as an adult, she knew the difference.
“I was from here once.”
The deep sound of his voice sank into her bones and warmed her from the inside out. No, that was the midday sun. Had nothing to do with this man.
“Do you have a name?”
“I do.”
The dust from the passing cart had settled. There was no breeze to cut through the heat. It was the time of day most took refuge inside until it began to cool as the afternoon waned. She waited, but he offered nothing.
It was time for her to go. She’d already wasted time she didn’t have and given Samar another reason to hate her. It was shaping up to be a stellar day.
Damn him. Damn Samar. And damn her father.
“Fine. See you around.” She trotted toward the vendors, wary of the man behind her and those who might be waiting for her. What had possessed her to get involved? Oh, yeah, the thought he might be involved with her father. And his compelling face.
Served her right for getting distracted. She knew better.
“Wait,” he called.
Oh no, she was done with him. Jamaeh slipped between two homes, flattening her body against the warm stones. It was a tight squeeze, the rough stone pulling at her clothing, but she managed. There was no way he could follow. He was too damn big to fit.
She ducked down an alley and across a lane that spit her back out into the market. The crowd had dwindled to almost nonexistent. Most stalls had closed and would remain so for the next three hours, opening to enjoy the remainder of the afternoon and early evening hours.
Cursing herself for staying so long, she kept to the shadows as she made her way toward the exit. From there, it was a short walk home where she could regroup and figure out a plan of action to find her brother.
The air behind her stirred. Jamaeh dropped and rolled, popping to her feet several feet away. The knife she wore at the small of her back was in her hand, her knees bent, ready to defend herself.
The stranger held his hands out in front of him. “I mean you no harm.”
“How did you follow me?” She slid the knife away as swiftly as she’d pulled it. No way had he been able to follow the same path she’d taken. And if he’d retraced his steps, he’d have ended up at the opposite entrance of the market.
The corners of his mouth twitched. Her heart skipped a beat as those full lips threatened to smile, stopping just short. He pointed up.
She frowned and looked. Her mouth fell open. “The rooftops?” He was more than just a pretty face. It made her rethink her earlier actions. Maybe he hadn’t needed saving. Seemed her first impression had been right. This was a dangerous man.
He shrugged. “I couldn’t fit where you did.” He took another step closer. “Zaxe. My name is Zaxe.”
“That’s a weapon, not a name.” A zaxe was a native axe. The personal guards and armies of the ruling families now fought with blasters, but they all learned how to use the zaxe. It was part of their heritage. She’d even paid for Esau to have lessons because there was no male family member to teach him.