Page 290 of Gladiators of the Vagabond Boxset

Eoin had yet to let go of me, the most he’d touched me in weeks, ever since that disastrous night.

I was pretty sure he was planning on holding onto me as long as we were outside the Vagabond.

I should complain about that, but baby steps were okay.

I could still keep an eye on things from here.

If I protested, I was pretty sure he’d march me straight back to the ship. I’d pick my battles wisely—for now.

The sound of footsteps from behind made me freeze.

The bar fell silent, and all the patrons turned to stare at the new arrivals.

When I looked, my stomach dropped, those were the guys, the aliens I had briefly thought were following me.

Shit, Had I led them straight here? Were they after us?

They looked utterly terrifying, even if there were only three of them.

Two were of that strange alien species with dark red skin and creepy white-and-black face markings.

They looked like they had skulls painted over their faces.

I was glad I hadn’t noticed that in the alleys outside—it would have really freaked me out.

The other was a Rummicaron, his head shaped like that of a shark, his wide mouth filled with rows of glittering teeth.

That one was holding a laser cannon in his hands, aiming it squarely at Eoin’s chest.

My fingers twitched around the weapon on my hip, the urge to pull it out and protect Eoin strong. That was ridiculous—a pistol was no match at all for an actual cannon—and that thing looked too big to comfortably carry. Was that even legal to have on the space station?

“Look what we have here!” the one in the lead said.

He was one of the Asrai, and he looked so identical to the other one that I had to wonder if they were twins.

The only difference was that the silent one appeared to have had his teeth filed to sharper points, which he was displaying in a macabre grin.

“Aren’t you from the Vagabond? That’s lucky, isn’t it, brother?

Luck, I tell you. Such a juicy bounty.” The one speaking jabbed his twin in the side with a cackle, and the Rummicaron jiggled the laser cannon, his thumb hovering over the trigger button as if he were ready to blow Eoin to bits right there.

If I hadn’t been sitting down, I was pretty sure I’d have melted into a quivering puddle at their feet.

Eoin didn’t seem nearly as impressed with them as I was, just coolly appraising them with his mercury eyes.

“Aren’t you from the Varakartoom?” he said.

“I thought you’d be bigger.” I wanted to jab him in the side, my eyes growing large in shock at his daring to insult them like that.

The one in the lead threw back his head and started to laugh uproariously, slapping his twin on the shoulder.

“Thought you’d be bigger! Haha… That’s a good one.

You’ve got guts, kid. That’s lucky too.” The other Asrai was still grinning, eyes laser-focused on my face—not Eoin’s—which was making me feel extremely uncomfortable.

“I don’t need luck when I’ve got skills,” Eoin shot back as he subtly shifted his body.

From the corner of my eye, I could see that he was showing his hand, low against his hip, in which he held a shimmering blade.

A blade was no match for a laser cannon, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t felt a knife that size when I’d been pressed up against him a moment ago.

It was making the luck-obsessed Asrai laugh even more, his skull-like face flushing with the mildest hint of pink in the white markings.

“Right,” he snorted, “well, don’t worry, kid.

You’re in luck, Drameil is out of funds, so the bounty is a bust.” Then he turned to his Rummicaron companion and hiccuped through his amusement: “Kid thought he could take on Bex with a knife!”

As quickly as the situation had turned tense when these three walked in, it diffused just as quickly now.

Apparently, without a bounty, these mercs had no interest in us, but I didn’t find myself breathing easy until they’d disappeared into a back room.

I had just enough time to peek through the door they’d gone through to see some kind of gambling going on behind it.

“That took guts,” the bartender remarked as he plunked two glasses with some kind of brown liquid down in front of us.

He had his four arms crossed in front of his chest, the dirt-stained shirt bulging and gaping a little over a protruding belly.

His yellow eyes were sharp as they focused on Eoin.

“Not many would dare say that with a laser cannon pointed at their chest!”

I was thinking the same thing. Even if it had worked out in our favor this time, that wasn’t a smart way to go about life! See, this is why he needed me to watch his back—things could have gone bad very quickly.

Eoin didn’t seem too worried. He was still staring after the Varakartoom mercenaries with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“They come here often?” he said, mercury eyes flicking to the barkeep when he realized the man kept on staring.

I wasn’t sure why that mattered; my instincts were telling me to just get the hell out of here.

They said Drameil didn’t have the funds to pay them, but we both knew that he’d been selling humans for that very reason.

The bartender shrugged. “What’s it to you?” So he might have been impressed, but he wasn’t going to be forthcoming with information. Eoin didn’t seem too bothered by the moody reply; he smirked and leaned in a little more.

Dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he said, “Fine, I’m not interested in them anyway.

I was told that you were the man to speak to when I’m looking to buy some humans.

” The barkeep leaned in at the tone of voice, but he immediately reeled back, offense written all over his features, down to the mood spots across his face turning white in shock.

“Humans!” he said, his eyes darting to my face before settling back on Eoin. “Oh, no, I don’t get mixed up in that mess. Not good ol’ Rikon!” He waved one hand toward the exit. “You should leave. I don’t want that kind of talk in my fine establishment.”

Eoin snorted, picked up the murky brown drink, and tossed it back like it was nothing. I was both concerned and relieved when he reached over, grabbed mine, and did it again. That drink had to be foul, and those glasses did not look clean.

“Yeah, and I’m Aderian,” Eoin laughed. “Do I look like an idiot?” He reached over the bar so fast that his hand blurred.

The barkeep had no chance at all to leap out of the way.

Curling his fist tightly around the back of the man’s neck, he slammed his face down into the bar. “Now tell me what I want to know.”

“Okay! Okay!” the Pretorian male squeaked out, the spots on his face turning completely black.

That one I hadn’t seen on Jakar before, but I could guess it was fear.

Since Eoin’s adoptive father was a Pretorian just like this barkeep, he seemed to know exactly how to read those spots.

His satisfied grin made something tingle deep in my belly, what was it about confident men that was so sexy?