Sneak Peek at Her Cyborg Bounty Hunters

Chapter One

Tish sat across from her boss in the cramped office. The cluttered space felt even smaller because of the size of the female seated behind the desk. The Torski was on the smaller side for her species, but Grotta was still two meters tall and was so wide across the shoulders she had to walk through most doors sideways. Even seated, she towered over Tish.

Most beings would use that to their advantage, but Grotta never did. Tish didn’t have the luxury of making friends at the moment, but Grotta was as close as she could get without dragging the female into the mess that was her life.

The scent of rocket fuel and degreaser smelled like home to Tish. Her fathers had a small shop on a refueling station. Nothing as big or profitable as what Grotta had, but it had been enough to provide a good life…until everything went nova.

Grotta smiled and leaned forward across the desk. “You do good work, Tix. Really good. I’ve got more work than I can handle right now, but our informal agreement means I can’t give you anymore hours. Are you sure I can’t put you on the books? I offer a good benefits package.”

“I would if I could.” She wished she could say yes, but under-the-table work was her only choice. Some work was better than none, and she was still trying to find someone else willing to pay her off the books. She had to stay off anything official. She trusted Grotta more than most, but the female didn’t even know her real name.

The female made a soft humming noise that might have held a note of disappointment. Then she held out a datapad.

Tish reached out and tapped her smaller and much more banged-up device to it. It beeped as the credit transfer went through.

“Thanks,” she said. Then she sighed and gave Grotta a crooked smile. She owed this female an explanation, even if it was incomplete.

“I’m not someone you want on your payroll. Not officially. It could get complicated for both of us.”

Grotta leaned back on her chair until it squeaked in protest. Then she smiled and nodded. “I thought as much. My offer still stands. You’re one of the best mechanics on the station. Probably the best in the sector. If it’s a lack of corporate certification, I can help you get what you need. If it’s something else…”

Grotta’s smile never wavered as she spoke. “Maybe I can help with whatever it is. This station might be new, but the stories of those who come here haven’t changed. The Drift is where beings come when they need to escape their past and start over. Me included. Someone made me an offer just like I’m doing for you. One day, I hope you can do the same for someone else.”

Grotta’s expression darkened with what Tish thought was grief. “Only difference is, I intend to be around to see it happen.”

“Thanks for the offer. Truly. Thank you. It means a lot to me.” Tish changed the direction of the conversation and hoped Grotta didn’t circle back. “The one who helped you isn’t around anymore?”

Zale [AB1] [SH2] got himself killed because he couldn’t stop trying to help others, even when it was dangerous to do so.” Grotta drummed her fingers on the metal desktop. “I get the feeling that helping you might be dangerous, too. I used to think Zale was an idiot for doing what he did. Now? I’m starting to understand why he did it.”

Tish raised both hands and shook her head. “No. I won’t let anyone get hurt because of me. My situation is complicated, and I don’t want anyone else caught up in it.” She heard the sharpness in her tone and took a breath. Projecting her worries wouldn’t help.

She lowered her hands and mustered a smile. “You have my heartfelt gratitude for making the offer. It’s nice to know there’s someone in my corner if things get rough. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry you lost your friend.”

Grotta rose from her chair, her big body taking up a good portion of the available space. “I’m here if you need help, Tix.” She cocked her head and grinned. “Or whatever your real name is. Now, I hate to cut this meaningful moment short, but I need to get out there and check on things. Not everyone in my employ has your talents or your work ethic.”

She snorted. “I’ll bet my lunch that Darby is taking a nap behind the discarded fuel cells again.”

Tish got to her feet, relieved the conversation was over, and no feelings had been hurt. “If he’s not there, check repair bay six. I’m pretty sure I heard snoring in there the other day.”

She raised the datapad. “I need to go, too. Rent is due today. I can’t risk being late. They’re at capacity, and the manager keeps threatening to reclaim any pods that aren’t paid up on time.”

Grotta nodded and gave her a thoughtful look. “Did you buy one of those deterrent locks I told you about?”

Tish laughed softly. That had been good advice. “I did. Thank you for that suggestion. Someone tried to jimmy the lock a few nights ago and got a nasty shock.”

“Serves them right.” Grotta gestured to the row of lockers by the door. “Now, stash your stuff and get out of here before I put you back to work.”

They shared a grin as Grotta opened the door and stepped through it so Tish had room to access her locker. She placed her tools and even her tool belt inside before shutting it firmly. She pressed her thumb to the pad and waited for the light to flash green to indicate it was locked.

“I’ll check in tomorrow to see if there’s work for me,” she said as the two of them parted ways.

“Stay safe,” Grotta called after her.

It wasn’t so much a warning as a reminder. Defiance Station was new, but it still had the same problems as every other platform and station out in the Drift. After a moment, she revised that thought. The station was plagued by the same issues that every place where sentient beings gathered dealt with. Especially when that location also offered intoxicants and entertainment in a vast variety of forms.

She tried to stay clear of those parts of the station. Not that she was tempted to indulge in most things on offer. Her biggest struggle was resisting the tantalizing scents that came from the food carts. The few times she’d wandered into those areas, she always left with a rumbling stomach and cravings for treats she couldn’t afford. Paying for a safe place to sleep took up most of her pay, and what little scrip was left over went to buying the other necessities of life, like nutri-gruel and the pay-by-the-minute hot shower she took after every shift.

Being paid in scrip was a novelty for Tish. She’d been locked into a contractual indenture for almost fifteen years. The contract stated she had to be provided with the means to feed and house herself. In exchange, she worked six days a week. The corporations had nice, legal names for the arrangement, but thankfully, none of them held her contract. She’d made the deal with the owner of a small business, and they’d both agreed to call it what it was—servitude.

It hadn’t been terrible. Zendi had not exactly been kind, but she’d provided corporate vouchers that covered the basics. She’d given Tish a small room at the back of the workshop and let her turn it into a cramped but comfortable home. Their relationship had been decent enough that Tish had cried at the woman’s funeral.

Of course, if she’d known who the business had been sold to, she’d have saved those tears for herself.

The second she started thinking about the past, Tish deliberately thought about something else. Why expend time and energy on something she couldn’t change?

Instead, she thought about what she’d do with the rest of her day. She rented space in a pod hotel only one level up from the docking rings. That meant she was close to work and didn’t have to enter the busier areas. As a bonus, the hotel’s customers were either crews on shore leave or techs like her who wanted to stay close to their source of income. The pods were new, clean, and relatively quiet. They were also cheaper than what was available on the entertainment levels.

First, she’d get out of her work clothes and toss them into the laundry. Her rent included one cleaning cycle a week, and today was the day. Once that was done, she would spend five glorious minutes enjoying a hot, soapy shower. It was one of the few things she had that felt normal. Like her life hadn’t gone off course and left her lost in the void. She was nearly thirty-four years old. How was this her life?

Nope. Don’t go there. Tish scolded herself and went back to thoughts of hot water and fragrant steam.

She let herself get lost in the mental imagery. Probably more than she should have. If she’d been paying more attention, she would have put more distance between her and the group of human males clustered outside the entrance to their ship.

She angled away from them, but it was too late.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” one of them called out in a sing-song cadence that told her he was intoxicated.

Tish lowered her head, hunched her shoulders, and increased her speed. This passageway connected to the main station in less than a hundred meters. Another minute and she’d be at the mag-lifts, safe in the crowd that always seemed to loiter around the vertical transports.

“Hey!” the same guy called again, but this time she caught the edge in his tone. “I’m talkin’ to you.”

“Sorry, I’ve got an appointment I need to keep,” she mumbled as she passed by. Sometimes that was enough to stop things from getting stupid.

Today, it wasn’t.

“Bitch thinks she too good for ya, Karta,” another of the group shouted. He finished with an ugly laugh that made the hairs on her neck rise.

“Shut up, Ollie,” he called over his shoulder.

Then he leered down at her. “Is dat true? You think you’re too good for me?” he demanded.

Tish kept walking, but her hands curled into fists as her mind raced through various scenarios. She had to get away from this idiot, but she needed to do it in a way that didn’t attract Corp-sec’s attention. Her identity documents were decent forgeries, but they wouldn’t hold up to real scrutiny.

A second ticked by and then another. Had he given up? The thought had barely formed before someone grabbed her shoulder with enough force to make her stumble.

She regained her balance quickly and then turned to face the man who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Leave me the fraxx alone.”

“No need ta be rude. I just wanna talk,” the male named Karta slurred.

Tish glowered up at the tall, gangly male.

“I’m not interested,” she said flatly.

“I am.” He cupped a hand over his groin and leered at her.

Behind him, several of his friends moved to join the confrontation. She was out of time and out of options.

As she struck him in the face with the heel of her palm, one question lingered in the front of her mind. Why does this keep happening to me?

She felt the crunch as she made contact. His nose was broken.

She didn’t wait to see his reaction. Tish turned and bolted. She needed to reach the relative safety of the main station.

She didn’t get more than two steps before she slammed into a flesh-and-blood mountain who hadn’t been there a moment ago.

He wrapped one arm around her, probably to steady her before she bounced off him. She shoved at his chest, trying to put some space between them, but he didn’t move. Not one fraxxing centimeter. She tipped her head back and got her first look at him.

He was human, male, and huge. He scowled down at her, his dark hair falling over his eyes. His expression was made more terrifying by the scar that ran from his temple to somewhere beneath the dark scruff of his unshaven jaw.

This man radiated menace like a plasma drive emitted heat.

She needed to run, hide, or scream for help.

Before she could decide which of her panic-fueled impulses to act on, the idiot she’d struck in the face found his voice.

Fraxx off, asshole. Find another one. This bitch owes me.”

For the briefest of moments, the big male’s scowl softened slightly. Then he winked at her. She didn’t understand why, but that small movement gave her a spark of hope that things would somehow be all right. She gave him a ghost of a smile and hoped he understood.

Then he raised his head and glared at the guy who had accosted her.

“She doesn’t owe you anything,” he said. His voice was deep and rough, like an engine slightly out of tune.

“She fraxxing hit me!” the other man’s voice was muffled, and she realized it was probably because he had his hand over his broken nose.

She started to turn around and see for herself, but the big man locked the arm still holding her, keeping her in place.

“I know she did. And if you don’t leave, I’ll hit you again,” he said in that low, growling voice.

“Fraxx you.”

A new voice entered the conversation. “Didn’t your mother teach you any manners? The lady said she wasn’t interested. Now stop swearing at strangers and find something productive to do.”

Tish jerked her head to her right to get a look at the new arrival. He had sandy blond hair, roguish good looks, and a dangerous smile. This one was almost as big as his friend. No. Not a friend. Batch-brother. Well, that explained their massive size. She’d somehow been rescued by two of the most dangerous beings in the galaxy. Which was nice and all, but it left her with one question. What would they want in return?


Ready for more? Her Cyborg Bounty Hunters releases July 24.

It’s Release day for Marked For Havoc

book cover. Shirtless man with rams horns, golden hair and black slash marks on his chest

It was supposed to be a business trip… How did it turn into a fight for survival?

If she doesn’t want her business to wind up as broken as her newly voided marriage contract, Madison needs a miracle. Too bad for her, the universe is all out. Her ship’s was shot down, her plans have exploded, and her best chance at staying alive is a brooding beast of an alien with horns, fangs, and a possessive streak as wide as the Milky Way.

She’s been hurt too often to trust easily, but there’s no way to survive without his help. He’s the most dangerous male she’s ever met… a threat to their enemies and her heart.

**Buckle up. This sci-fi romance contains an alien with fur, fangs, horns, and a very possessive attitude when it comes to the woman he’s claimed for his own.

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Sneak Peek at Marked For Havoc

book cover. Shirtless man with rams horns, golden hair and black slash marks on his chest

CHAPTER ONE

For something touted as a luxury cruise vessel, the rooms aboard the Bountiful Harvest were surprisingly small. Maddison had already made a note to address that issue along with a host of other concerns she had about her newly acquired business. Damn her ex-husband to the void. He’d followed the exit clause of their marriage contract to the letter. At least on paper. The idea of a galactic dating cruise had looked like a good offer until she’d gotten her hands on the reports that now lay strewn across the table. She’d scanned everything and tasked an AI to summarize it all.

That report was now on her tablet, and it told a different, very depressing story.

She set down the device she’d been reading and sighed. “These contracts can’t be enforceable. What they’re offering isn’t legal anywhere in the known systems.”

The silver-haired woman across from her nodded in agreement. This wasn’t news. Not really. They’d talked about this more than once, and Loris knew everything she did. Probably more, given the woman’s uncanny ability to glean information from even the most innocuous of conversations.

She took a moment to look at her friend. Loris was tall and rangy, with long legs currently crammed into too-little space. She’d been a soldier once, and she still walked with the brash swagger of someone who had met death and walked away with most of her body and soul intact.

Loris had been with her for more than a decade. Originally hired by her now ex-husband as security, Loris had become her confidante, advisor, and dear friend. When she’d walked out of her former home, she’d left almost everything behind, but Loris had stayed with her.

She was more than a friend. She was a source of strength and unwavering support, even during the darkest parts of Maddison’s life. Those dark days were over, but a new storm was brewing. Donny Cappa, her ex, had given her everything he’d agreed to in the marriage contract he and her father had hammered out fifteen years ago.

He’d gotten the best of her father back then, and he’d done the same thing to her now. The Bountiful Harvest had been a luxury liner once, the business both beneficial and profitable. Time and circumstances had changed things.

The ship needed extensive upgrades on everything imaginable. The list of deferred maintenance items was shocking, and the estimated cost of it all was… she held back a sigh. The costs were more than she could manage. Once the cruise was over, she’d have to put together a business plan and start applying for loans.

She couldn’t risk a partnership or investor support, not when her ex had so clearly set her up. Anyone she would consider approaching might already have been told not to deal with her, and that was the lesser fear.

The bigger concern would be if she inadvertently sought help from someone her ex had already corrupted or coerced. Apparently, he hadn’t humiliated and hurt her enough during their nightmare of a marriage. The bastard was determined to ruin the rest of her life, too.

She would not let that happen. Nor would she allow the company she now owned to continue doing business with anyone who saw the human women on board as commodities instead of living beings. The crew did their best to protect the passengers, but desperation made some of the women make decisions no woman should ever have to consider.

Human females were reproductively compatible with a number of different species, but in many cases the arrangements were little more than slavery. Humans had never been asked to become signatories of the Unified Agreement of the GLAR, so they had almost no protections.

Some saw them as vermin to be exterminated. Others considered them to be useful minions. Then, there were the ones that the agents for the Bountiful Harvest seemed to cater to these days. They thought of human women as exotic pets at best and breeding stock at worst.

She had no doubt that her ex had moved the business in that direction intentionally. It meshed too well with his own thoughts on women to be a coincidence.

She caught herself tensing her feet and forced herself to relax. Other people stiffened their shoulders or curled their hands into fists when they got stressed. She had learned not to do anything that could be seen as a reaction to her ex’s words or deeds. When she felt stressed or unhappy, she scrunched her toes instead. It was one of the many behaviors she’d adapted to avoid her ex’s notice.

Once she’d calmed herself, she noticed Loris had a distant look and a hard set to her jaw. She knew what that meant.

“You’re doing it again,” Maddison said softly.

Loris shrugged as her expression shifted to one of carefully crafted indifference. “What?”

“You’re listening to the wrong voices.” Loris had used that line on her more than once.

Loris scoffed and tapped a finger to her temple. “I’m alone in here. No voices of any kind.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maddison said, her voice gentle.

Loris gave a curt nod of acknowledgment, but her hands tightened into fists.

That small sign of anger was enough to make Maddison want to pull away. Loris would never hurt her, but life with Donny had taught her to retreat from any sign of violence. Maddison hated herself every time it happened, but it would take more than a few months of freedom to undo fifteen years of conditioning.

Instead of retreating, Maddison stood from her chair and leaned toward Loris. She forced a laugh as she moved to put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. She understood the source of Loris’s anger now, which helped. “I know that look. You’re thinking about my former husband.”

They never said his name out loud. In part, because invoking his memory always darkened the mood, but there was more to it than that. She’d learned not to use his name when they’d lived together, because he was always listening. Always ready to dole out punishments if he thought she’d said something unflattering about him.

That fear still lingered. It didn’t matter that he was on the other side of the galaxy. Part of her still worried that he would come back one day.

Loris patted her hand. “I imagined what his face would look like if we launched him out of an airlock and into the void. You should try it sometime. It’s cheaper than therapy.”

“Tsk. Tsk.” Maddison pretended to be scandalized, but the idea did have some appeal. “You know I love you, but it still worries me that you have moments when you sound like a psychopath.”

“I’m not a psycho. I’m a soldier. There’s a difference.”

Maddison lifted one brow but said nothing. What could she say that wouldn’t alienate her dearest friend? She would never understand how anyone could deliberately hurt someone else.

“There is. When I choose violence, it’s because I’m protecting someone or something I value. A client. An ideal…” Loris covered Maddison’s hand with her own. “Or a friend.”

This was the one thing they never agreed on. Maddison believed that violence was never the answer. Loris saw things differently.

“I hope you never have to make that choice again. At least, not for me. I want nothing but a calm, quiet life where I can do something that matters.”

That’s what Maddison wanted now, a chance to build something meaningful. If that was too much to achieve, at the very least, she wanted to do more good than harm.

Maddison moved her hand off Loris’s shoulder to gesture around the small cabin. “I think this company has potential. It could be exactly what I need. The personnel can stay, for the most part, but everything else needs an update. Including this ship.”

She liked the crew of the Harvest. They were kind and competent, most of them seeming to want their passengers to achieve their goals and find some semblance of happiness by the time the cruise came to an end. In fact, some of them had become even more engaged and considerate of those still on board. Maddison felt for them, too. They were all good people, but for a variety of reasons, they had not found a match.

Then again, that might not be such a bad thing. While some of the passengers had found promising arrangements, Maddison now knew that many of them had agreed to contracts that, at best, gave them money in exchange for companionship and, at worst, were little more than breeding contracts.

Loris tipped her head in agreement. “I hope so. It would be nice to think that romance isn’t entirely gone from the galaxy. Who knows?” her friend added with a small grin. “Once you’ve gotten this company sorted out, maybe you’ll find a nice fellow who falls madly in love with the owner.”

The idea made her stomach tie itself in knots. Trust another man after what she’d endured? No. “I doubt that’s in the cards for me. But I have every intention of using this matchmaking business to find someone worthy of you.”

Loris threw back her head and laughed. “Me? Stars, no. I’m quite happy on my own, thank you. Love is for other people. The ones with kindness in their hearts and hope in their souls. You know damned well I have neither of those things.”

That wasn’t true. Loris did have a kind heart, though she didn’t show that side of her to many people. “You are one of the kindest—” Maddison never got to finish her sentence.

The deck beneath their feet heaved and then dropped, making her lose her balance. A second later, alarms erupted from every speaker, filling the cabin with noise that could only mean one thing. Something terrible had happened. Fear closed an icy fist around her chest and squeezed. For a split second, panic overwhelmed her, but then Loris’s firm voice drew her back from the brink.

“Go bag. Now. Get it and meet me at my cabin door. Move!” Loris was out the door a moment after she spoke the last word.

Maddison obeyed without question. They’d drilled this sort of scenario until her reactions were automatic. If there was trouble, she followed Loris’s directions quickly and without question. Until now, drills were all she’d ever done.

She stuffed the data tablet she’d been using into the go bag. In a moment of insight, she kicked off her dress shoes and grabbed the pair of runners she used when she went to the ship’s gym. Her hands shook as she pulled them on, and her mind raced as she tried but failed to make sense of the alerts and announcements coming through the speakers.

All she knew for certain was that something had gone wrong. That meant that the ship, the crew, and all her plans for the future were in jeopardy… and so was she.

Want to keep reading? Marked For Havoc releases Jan 16th. 2026 Grab your copy HERE!


It’s Release Day for Her Alien Cyborgs!

Cover of Her Alien Cyborgs

The only thing that ever came easy for her was trouble.

 After a lifetime of busting her ass and bending the law just to scrape by, Hezza is running on fumes. Her ship is even older than she is, and both are feeling their age. Is she ready to retire? Hell no. Hanging up her flight suit is the last thing she wants, even if it’s the smart thing to do.

Before she can make that choice, though, trouble finds her again… and this time it comes with a double order of hard muscles, sinful smiles, and alpha attitude.

They had nothing. No past. No future. No names. Then she appeared… and everything changed.

Subjects Six and Seven are failed experiments. Created in secret using banned technology and stolen DNA, they were crafted as weapons for a not-so-distant war. Too stubborn to be controlled and too valuable to terminate, they exist only to serve… and to dream of freedom.

Fate brought three battered hearts together, but it will take more than luck to survive the coming storm. Hezza is their key to happiness, and the cyborgs are her first rays of hope in a life spent in the shadows. Together, they’re going to change the galaxy… or die trying.

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Sneak Peek at Her Alien Cyborgs

Cover of Her Alien Cyborgs

Chapter One

Hezza leaned back in her chair and let her eyes close most of the way.

To really sell the idea that she was relaxed and indifferent to what was happening, she made a conscious effort to slouch down in her chair as far as the restraints allowed.

The pair of overzealous dock security dipsticks had cuffed her hands and feet to the chair. Not only that, but they’d placed her in a room with bare plasteel walls, a floor liberally covered in mysterious stains, and three shabby, dented metal furnishings. One was the chair she sat on. The other two were a table with a matching chair on the far side. As far as she could tell, all of it was bolted to the deck to prevent the inhabitants from what? Throwing it at the walls? Using the chair as a weapon? Probably both.

This was the kind of place where you housed a dangerous fugitive, and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in a supernova she fit that description. It was strangely flattering but hardly an accurate assessment. She was a smuggler, not a killer. The only things she was capable of murdering were fried foods and ice cream.

The thought made her smile, which she had no doubt the cameras would catch and display to whoever was watching her. Someone would be watching. They always did. Anything she said or did now would be tossed back in her face once the questions started. She knew how the game was played. This was the waiting period, when she was left on her own to marinate in her fear. No one would show up until she was tenderized and compliant. At least, that’s what they taught the rent-a-cops in places like this.

Carnax was like every other back-system station she’d visited. They barely broke even on refueling contracts and providing replacement parts to any ship unlucky enough to break down this far from civilized space.

She wasn’t here for fuel or repairs, though. She’d been here for a job. It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out cargo pickup—easy work, no fuss, no muss, and no questions asked.

Looking back now, she probably should have asked some fraxxing questions, starting with who had made the request in the first place. When she got out of here, she’d have a long, colorful chat with Sasha. Either he was getting sloppy, or he’d been paid to set her up. Either way, she’d make sure his reputation as a broker tanked after this.

If she got out of whatever-the-void trouble this turned out to be. For the moment, all she knew was what security had told her. She was being detained for acts in violation of the Unified Galactic Agreement. Which was normally corporate speak for, “We’ll let you know what the charges are once we’ve determined how many credits worth of fines you can pay.”

This time, though, things felt different. Like maybe she was in serious trouble.

Hezza had to remind herself to stay relaxed as she pondered what this could be about. She’d always preferred to bend laws instead of breaking them completely. Sure, her current cargo included a few items she hoped port-sec didn’t inspect too closely. The embryos in the cargo pods were marked as domestic chickens destined for a colony world. However, odds were good they were something far more exotic, expensive, and only available on the black market.

Moving illegal cargo didn’t bother her, so long as it didn’t break one of her rules. She didn’t transport slaves, drugs, or weapons. Every broker she used knew this. Of course, most of the brokers she knew were already retired and enjoying a life of leisure, likely funded through years of skimming profits and pocketing bribes.

Now that she thought about it, most of her friends were retired too—some by choice yet others because they’d be incarcerated for the rest of their lives. As far as she was concerned, there wasn’t much difference. Both meant staying in one place and doing the same thing day after day. No thank you.

The problem was, she couldn’t keep flying cargo forever. She wasn’t slow, but the Desperate Gambit couldn’t keep up with the newest ships out there. Both she and her ship were losing business to younger, hungrier pilots.

She slumped deeper into her chair. Getting old sucked.

Three minutes later, Hezza told herself to quit wallowing. She had more immediate problems to deal with. She went over the list of probable reasons she was in custody. The most likely cause was also the easiest to understand. No good deed went unpunished.

River was a decent being who’d had more than her share of suffering. The cyborg had come to her with money in hand and a contingency plan in case things went sideways.

Turned out, things hadn’t just gone sideways. They’d gone full nova. River’s contingency plan had kicked in, and Hezza made sure the cyborg made it to her chosen destination. Had she broken a few laws to do it? Yes. Would she do it again? Abso-fraxxing-lutely.

That didn’t mean she had no regrets. Things had gotten messy. Edge, the grumpy, self-appointed leader of the cyborgs, had demanded Hezza reveal where River had gone. Then the damned fool had gone after her. One cyborg leaving the colony was a problem. Two? That set off all kinds of panic. Various factions had learned of her involvement, and she’d had to lay low.

Apparently, she hadn’t laid low enough. A message from River had caught up with her a few days ago. The good news was that she and Edge were fine and had handled the asshole hunting River. The bad news? The fallout from their actions was still ongoing. Nova Force was still looking for Hezza, and it would be best if she stayed out of sight for the time being.

If she’d been smart, she would have taken the warning more seriously. She should have gone dark and drifted somewhere in the big black. Instead, she’d gotten cocky and assumed no one could find her.

Hezza uttered a sigh. Given her current situation, it was apparent someone had found her. That left her with two questions. Who had set this trap, and what did they want?

Odds were good she wasn’t going to like the answers.

She had no way to check the time, but it had to have been more than an hour since someone had made an appearance.

She’d been listening for footsteps outside the door to her cell or at least a click as they let themselves in. Instead, she heard a low, electronic hum followed by a soft chuckle.

“That does not look comfortable,” a familiar voice drawled.

Hezza’s eyes snapped open, and she straightened in her chair. “Phylomenia Harrington, what the fraxx are you doing on my wall?”

The silver-haired woman on the monitor laughed. “Your wall? Did you take over the port security office already?”

“I could have, but they gave me some pretty bangles, so I’ve decided to behave.” She raised both wrists as far as the cuffs would allow, to show off the restraints.

Qarf. They weren’t supposed to do that.” Phylomenia turned to glare at someone out of view. “Did you tell them to restrain her?”

“I told them she was a potential flight risk,” a deep male voice replied.

“And you wonder why people distrust those in authority. This is why, Scott Archer. You and I are going to talk about this.”

Archer. Hezza felt like she should recognize the name, but nothing popped into her head. Phylomenia had left the life a few years back. Whoever this guy was, she must have met him after she went straight.

“So all of this is your fault,” Hezza stated. It had to be true, but it made no sense. Phylomenia was not exactly a friend, but they’d been in the same orbit most of the time. She was someone whose word you could trust, and they’d had a few laughs and drinks over the years.

Phylomenia gave her a rueful smile. “All of it? No. You got yourself into this mess, Hez. I’m here to offer you a way out.”

“From what? No one here will tell me what I’m charged with.”

“That’s because they weren’t given the details. And you’re not under arrest. You’re being detained for questioning.” Phylomenia arched a brow. “And don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. You helped not one but two dangerous cyborgs escape from Haven colony.”

That made her laugh. “They’re no more dangerous than anyone else you and I have done business with. Hell, they’re a lot better than some I could name.”

Phylomenia’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t just help them out for money? You actually like these cyborgs?”

Hezza raised her head and stiffened her shoulders in response to Phylomenia’s tone. What did the woman have against cyborgs?

 “They’re decent beings who got a raw deal from the day they climbed out of their maturation vats. So yeah, I like them.”

“Enough to help one get off the planet she was legally required to stay on, and to hell with the consequences?” Phylomenia asked.

“Keeping them on Liberty was a bullshit call that should never have happened. As for what I did? It wasn’t about the money. River needed help, and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in a supernova that anyone from the corporations or the military was going to step up. It was about doing the right thing.”

She leaned forward as far as her restraints would allow. “Was a time you’d have done the same thing. What changed?” It wasn’t the question she should have asked, but it was out of her mouth before she could reconsider.

Instead of the rebuke she expected, Phylomenia’s expression softened, and she chuckled again. “Sorry, Hez. I needed to be sure you were on the right side of this mess. I didn’t change, but you could have, and that would mean you’re not the one we need right now.”

“I heard a lot of words, and none of them told me a damned thing. What in the void is going on, Phyl?”

The woman on the screen gestured with both hands, and two men joined her. They were older but still fit with neatly trimmed gray hair and a physical presence that screamed of military training.

“These are my husbands, Scott Archer and Garrett Michaels. Archer negotiated the original deal with the Vardarians for Liberty.”

“They got the planet for colonization, but they had to take the cyborgs the rest of the galaxy was too scared to deal with.” Hezza knew the story. “Which means he’s the bakaffa who made it so none of the cyborgs could ever leave.”

She intentionally used the Vardarian insult to remind the others of her ties to the colony. Her daughter and her mates all lived in Haven.

“It was necessary at the time,” one of the men said. She assumed he was Archer.

“And it was never intended to last forever. You know what corporations are like, Hez. Everything is a negotiation. They wanted to try for more before agreeing to anything else.”

“How much longer will they be stuck?” Hezza asked.

Archer answered, “That’s being discussed right now. I can’t give you an answer because I’m retired and out of the loop. But it won’t be long. Too much has happened.”

Well, that was good news. It didn’t explain what they wanted with her, though. “I’m glad to hear it. Now what does this have to do with me?”

Phylomenia’s expression turned stormy. “There’s another research base. The Interstellar Armed Forces are sending a small fleet to investigate. Scott called in some favors and got us added as consultants. It’s not that we don’t trust them to make the right call…”

Hezza understood immediately. “They’re military, which means they’re going to make decisions based on their training.”

The other man grunted in agreement. “To a hammer, everything looks like a nail.”

Scott Archer shot the man a dirty look. “I’m not a hammer, thank you very much.”

“But sometimes you’re a tool.”

Phylomenia sighed. “Please ignore them. Their idea of flirting leaves a lot to be desired.”

Hezza grinned. “It’s kind of cute. I still need to know why we’re having this conversation, though. And I’d really like to get out of this chair.”

“Here’s the deal, Hez. We’re going on this mission, but we can’t interfere too much. We’re just advisors. We need someone who can do something if things go nova.”

“You want me along as your backup plan. I’m interested, but I still don’t understand how you’re going to convince the IAF to let me tag along.”

“That’s easy. This is likely to be another cyborg research and development station. The cyborgs of Haven have requested representation on this mission. Since none of them are allowed to leave the planet yet, they’ve designated someone to speak for them.”

“Me?” Hezza nearly choked on the word.

“You,” Phylomenia confirmed with only a hint of a smile. “The job’s yours if you want it.”

She couldn’t turn down the offer or the honor it represented. Still, she did have a reputation to live up to. “I’m interested,” she said, trying to sound casual. “But first I need to know. What does this gig pay?”

Releasing October 3rd!

Get your copy: https://susanhayes.ca/book/her-alien-cyborgs/