“What is this place?” I ask.
“Doesn’t matter,” he answers.
I’m about to ask him why not when the gate clangs behind us. I whirl around, heart in my throat, only to find Max standing there.
He doesn’t say anything, and neither does Ian, but they stand there staring at each other for several seconds before Max slips a hand under Gage’s arms and says, “Be careful.”
Ian snorts.
He and I watch as the silhouettes of Max and Gage fade into the swirling white of the storm. I hope the Starlight is right around the corner, ready to get him first aid, but I can’t see a thing.
I start to duck back into the street and the wind, but Ian grabs me at the last second and yanks me against his chest.
It’s the last thing I expect, and I squawk as he pulls me off balance. I have one second to register hard thighs, a flat stomach, and an even harder chest pressed against me before his free hand is sliding over my mouth.
What the fuck?
I struggle, but his hold keeps me completely immobile. “Chill, Princess!” he hisses at me just as five large men walk by, fully armed.
I stop struggling as I realize Ian thinks they’re looking for us.
Once they pass, he lets me go slowly with the warning, “Keep quiet.”
“Got it,” I shoot back. The fact that I can still feel the imprint of his body from my neck to my knees is something nobody else needs to know. “Next time, just tell me,” I offer, trying to push the sensation away.
“Next time I’m saving your life, I’ll keep that in mind. Now let’s get going. We need to get to the boardinghouse.”
“Are you serious?” I demand. “We just killed four people—”
“We?” he asks, brows raised.
“I was trying to be a team player and not assign blame.”
“When it comes to saving your life, you can blame me anytime, Princess.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine, you just killed four people who attacked us. And more are looking for us. And we’re still sticking with Plan A?”
“We have to find Milla,” he says simply.
I want to argue with him—if he really thinks people are looking for us, then it’s a recipe for disaster for us to go anywhere in this sky port, let alone into the heart of it to ask questions about someone who may or may not have disappeared from here several months ago—but one look at his intractable face tells me to save my breath.
And though I may disagree with him, I understand where he’s coming from. He’s searched the entire system for Milla. Now that we’re this close, there’s no way Ian is leaving until he gets information on her.
So instead of arguing, I say, “Let’s move, then. We’re running out of time.”
He looks surprised, like me being supportive of what very well might turn into a suicide mission surprises him completely. It makes me sad; he’s clearly had so few people support him like this in his life.
Ian steps out from the shelter of the building, and I follow him. As soon as we do, I’m hit with a face full of snowflakes, courtesy of the brutal wind.
Why, why, why did I think I wanted to come to this fucking place? I should have stayed on the Starlight where I belong. But then again, nobody said anything about sub-zero storms, high gravity that makes every step a battle, and low oxygen that makes every breath feel like my last. Not to mention dealing with all that and being handcuffed to a man currently showing absolutely no sense of self-preservation.
Which is interesting, considering Ian is usually all about saving his own skin. But once Milla’s in the mix, all that falls by the wayside. Everything does, except trying to find her.
I push on because I have to, fighting the high gravity to keep up with Ian. Buffeted by a particularly strong gust of wind, I stumble, and Ian tightens his grip on my arm, pulling me closer.
I blank my mind and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. It can’t be much farther, right? The light is fading, and it will be night soon, and then I’m guessing it will get even colder, if that’s possible. Please, please don’t let it be possible.
Our walk is silent and solitary, except for the howling wind. No one else is ridiculous enough to be out in this mess, so at least we don’t have to worry about being recognized.
When I think I can’t go any farther, Ian taps my arm. “That’s it,” he says, nodding toward a ramshackle building to our right.
My relief is so keen that I nearly cry. I hope they’ve got a fire.
I speed up a little so I’m actually pulling Ian for the first time and even manage to get to the door before him. I push it open and then pause as it occurs to me that I have no idea what I’m about to walk into. What if, somehow, whoever is after us realizes where we were going and beat us to it? What if there is a whole contingent of people inside, just waiting to kill us?
I can tell Ian’s having the same thought. His pistol is in his hand, and his eyes are scanning everything and everywhere as we step inside. Please, please, please don’t let anyone be in there. Please, please, please.
The door opens into some sort of bar area. The light is dim, just a couple of naked bulbs hanging from the low ceiling. But relief floods me as I realize it’s completely empty. There’s not even anyone behind the bar.
More relief hits me as my eyes fix on the one thing I’ve been begging the universe for. Using strength I didn’t even know I had, I drag Ian toward the fire burning in the huge grate opposite the entrance. I can feel the heat from here, and I groan at how good it feels.
For once, he doesn’t try to stop me and get his own way. Probably because he’s just as cold as I am but wants to pretend he’s some sort of tough guy impervious to the elements. For several minutes, we stand in front of the fire, hands held out as the warmth of it slowly seeps in. Eventually, when I’m finally convinced I’m not in imminent danger of dying of frostbite, I glance around and take in my surroundings.
The whole room is about the size of the bridge on the Starlight. In other words, not very big at all. There’s a bar running down one wall and three tables, each with four rickety chairs. Ian nods to the one nearest the fire, and I gladly sink down into it. My legs are shaking. Actually, all of me is shaking. I don’t think I’ll ever be truly warm again.
A man appears from a door behind the bar. Like the port supervisor, he’s really short and broad, but his bushy beard is a bright coppery red. What little skin I can see is red, too, no doubt from exposure to the elements.
He heads toward us with a curious look, but there’s no malice in it. And, as far as I can tell, absolutely no sign of recognition. He’s probably wondering what kind of people are foolish enough to be walking around in this mess. But all he says is, “Can I get you folks something?”
“Gerjgin,” Ian replies. He gets a planeta out of his pocket and tosses it to the man, who glances at it, raises a brow, and slides it in his apron.
“Coming up.”
“Wait a second.” Ian stops him as he starts to walk away. “Do you have a crew member from the Reformer staying here?”
“Who’s asking?” The barkeep looks immediately suspicious. “And why?”
“We just want to ask him a few questions. If he’s willing to speak to us, there’ll be something in it for both of you,” Ian tells him.