Enemy Fire | J. Saltzman - Legacies [3]

F O R T Y - O N E

While Stella Hale, the eljun, may hate crowded bars and the simple thought of strange, discolored liquid sliding down her throat, the bounty hunter she plays sure does love it. At the moment, the bounty hunter of the story surpasses Stella's instincts as she grins and sinks the equivalent of a pool ball into the right place, scraping up the coins others bet against her. "Sorry, boys," she says, flicking her hair out of her eyes. "You just keep losing. Another round?"

One sore loser remains along with his buddy who bets once again. As the men reset the table, a comforting arm wraps around Stella's shoulders, a face resting against her cheek. "How's my favorite bounty hunter?"

"Shut it, Dak," Stella replies, shoving him off. Catching sight of his face, Stella almost chokes when she faces Aaron of all people, but the instinct disappears as quickly as it comes. "I'm not here for you."

"Oh, I thought we were friends," he smiles. "Come now, I've got a job for you. The princess'll pay top dollar."

"Princess?" Stella scoffs as she lets her opponent take the first move. "What, the one you've been messaging all year? She finally going to show her face? You sure she's real?"

"Real as can be." His gaze drifts behind her as she makes her move. Three of the pieces fall into the correct holes. "Come on, you should meet her."

"I've got my own bounty to deal with right after I kick this guy's ass. Marshall's orders." Who the hell is Marshall? "Some old creep who lives out on the rim. Guess his time's up."

"If you want to keep being Marshall's little pet, fine, but you're not all bad. Not like Lord Marshall, at least. You've got good in there somewhere."

Stella scoffs.

Dak Romo-slash-Aaron raises his hands and backs away. "Fine! Have fun in your dark, twisted world."

"Enjoy the blinding light, Romo," Stella replies as she finishes her turn with a grin.

Each move she makes only brings her further into the fantasy world around her. Galactic war. Pure princesses and bad boy smugglers. Some dark lord named Marshall that Stella's character, whoever that may be, occasionally works for.

A name tugs her away from her bounty hunter life at the back of her mind, but the bounty hunter only recalls a defensive android rather than an actual name. She can almost picture a face, smiling and laughing and kissing her softly, pulling her towards the light. Stella would fall for the girl's serpent tongue any day. After all, tongues can do a great many things from whispering sweet nothings to passionate kisses to other unholy actions that send playful shivers down Stella's back.

One thing that hasn't changed from this trippy fantasy from her reality is Stella's ability to feel eyes on her. Being in such a crowded bar, she's bound to feel a few gazes, but one begins to burn brighter than the others. As she glances over her shoulder, a smirk mars her lips when she catches sight of three women seated at Dak Romo's personal booth all staring at her.

Keeping the gaze of the girl seated furthest in, Stella leans over with the game stick, sinks the last piece, and wins the game. The sore losers both groan and begin to complain, reaching for the money she had rightfully won. Turning back to them, she glares, "I won, fair and square. Hands off."

"You cheated!" One of them exclaims. "I'll report you to the—"

Lifting her hand up from her belt, the gun in her hand blasts twice, sending both of the others to the ground. She purses her lips and blows some of the smoke away from her weapon before she gathers her money and saunters over to Dak's table. "Pretty princess," she says, pointing to the brunette in the corner.