Chapter One

Dakota ‘Drag’ Michelson had always believed in two things. The first was that good always triumphed. Today was no exception.

“Full Throttle has cemented themselves in Wespero history by qualifying for a regional trial race—not once, but twice!” Snapper roared over the crowd gathered in the Watering Hole, hoisting a large mug of house brew in the air with his cybernetic hand. The metal gleamed in the low light of the room. Drag’s second-in-command stood on the small stage, a plywood platform that lifted folks about a half a foot off the ground and typically hosted music acts.

“They said we wouldn’t be capable of staging a repeat, but our fearless leader… Drag!”

Everyone looked at him. Over a hundred pairs of eyes were staring him down and had pinned him in place like a goosemert caught in the act of burrowing. His feet were locked to the floor by a silent fear that made it impossible for him to move as he leaned against the bar. He’d never been big on attention, afraid they might find a flaw in his abilities. He managed to lift his own mug in acknowledgment.

A deafening cheer erupted throughout the room. Drag closed one eye as the noise hit his audio cortex just right to send a screech through his entire body, as if the sound had triggered an adverse reaction to the nanites in his system and his nerves were revolting.

“Drag has led us to front-pole position,” Snapper continued between drinks. “Just as he has since the moment we voted him leader of Frog Lick, leader of our gang. We celebrate tonight to remember how far we’ve come, because tomorrow, after we win, we start working toward the championship!”

Another roar rose through the room, paired with the clinking of glasses, the guzzling of brew and a jovial mood that no one could erase. This was the release of years of suffering. This gang had fought and clawed their way through poor engine designs, bad luck, explosions and losing their chance at an appeal with the Mars Shipping Commission.

No amount of presented evidence could convince that three-person board to commute or reduce the sentence they had handed down to Frog Lick three years prior, all courtesy of Bebe Smith, the previous gang-town leader, who’d been in a dirty deal with a terrorist cell from Earth’s moon. She and the terrorists had almost launched an attack on the Uppers that would have made all of Mars suffer. The ruling groups of Mars had meted out the steepest punishment they could to show the APU that they wouldn’t let treason on such a scale happen again. But did Bebe suffer? No… She got locked away in a prison cell and fed. It was the people she left behind who ended up worse off.

Hardworking women, men and their children had endured lack of food, support and, in some cases, much-needed medicine. They’d trusted Drag and his close friends to help lead the way and direct their efforts.

Their labor, sleepless nights and even repeated losses had been worth it to inspire them to reach this moment. The town had even flourished, becoming the place of his childhood dreams. No one went hungry. Not a single person froze because they didn’t have proper housing. Everyone who wanted to learn was allowed to. There were no longer gender lines for jobs.

Drag dared a glance at Gaia, their bartender and another close confidant. Her long pale blonde braids were wrapped up in twin buns at the back of her head. She wore a smile that didn’t quite meet her light gray eyes as she filled more mugs with brew and handed them off to one of the staff to distribute.

As if his stare had called to her, she sauntered in his direction. “You’re pretty quiet for a man who should be on top of the world. Tomorrow is just a formality.”

“We’re not finished until we win the championship.” They had put him in charge, expecting him to lead them to a future where their social standing or parental bloodlines didn’t matter. For that, they needed to acquire the top reward gifted to gang-towns across Mars.

“Spoken like a man whose job is never finished. What then? When you win, how do you guarantee future success?”

He chuckled before swallowing a good amount of brew. “That’s a problem for future me. Maybe you’re right. I should be celebrating.”

“Not a bad idea, considering we don’t know what’s on the horizon.” Her words were soaked with the unspoken issues Full Throttle was dealing with outside of their win today. They were still without mining and shipbuilding rights and on the brink of a turf war with a rival gang.

That woman will do anything to bury me.

The memory of bright red hair, sizzling green eyes filled with hatred and a physical touch that still seared his skin… He’d exorcised her plenty of times from his mind, sometimes with a body and other times with booze. Tonight he’d have to do more of the same.

“Care to keep a man occupied?”

Gaia winked. “You know I don’t mind a good spearing, but I’ve got other plans for tonight.”

Drag didn’t miss the bartender’s gray gaze traveling across the room to a black-haired woman with bright eyes and winsome smile. Also, a nice set of tits.

“Well, if you need a third—”

“I’ll remember you, oh fearless leader. How about you interact with the people? I bet they’d love a rendition of the drive or any kind word about how you’ll be leading us to victory.” With that, Gaia left him alone and he was back to staring out among the crowd.

Snapper had come off the stage to be replaced by Privy, their local musician, who had already started to tune up his guitar and prepare to strum. Music would fill the room soon enough and give Drag a chance to slip away.

He turned around and leaned over the bar, rummaging with his human hand for a bottle of the good stuff Gaia kept below. Emerging with an amber-filled bottle, he let out a little grunt of appreciation for the finer things, and for this moment.

“Did you ever think we’d be here? Two years ago, stumbling across the shitty terrain, outlawed, outcast and both with absent right arms.” Snapper’s voice brought a grin to Drag’s face.

The idiot was already three sheets to the breeze. He’d been celebrating the minute Drag had finished the pole-positioning challenges.

“Either your woman’s going to have no use for you because you’ll be too drunk to get it up or too annoyed with all your reminiscing about the good old days. Hell, I’ll have no use for you in the pit tomorrow.” Drag had already spent enough time in his head about the past today. He’d rather use the rest of celebration to forget.

“Don’t talk about Gina like that. She can get me up any time, booze or not. My woman is the best.”

“You’re damn right.”

Snapper pointed a cybernetic finger in his face. “Don’t you forget it. Now I may have drunk too much, but damn it, I’m in a good mood. We deserve a win, right?”

They did. The music started, a bawdy jingle about racers and the dust honeys who loved them. The crowd cheered and some even joined in. The lyrics were well-known and easy to recite. This right here couldn’t be found elsewhere, not with any other gang.

 

Born wild and unafraid.

A mechanic by trade.

Raised to sweat in a driver’s seat.

 

“Yes, but more than that, these people deserve the future we’re trying to give them.”

Snapper clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re fucking right. I’m off to dance. Join us soon, don’t wallow.”

Drag tugged the stopper out of the bottle with his teeth, abandoning his now-empty brew glass and opting to tag a swig straight from the bottle. Another swallow, another verse.

 

He’s known by all others.

A friend and brother.

Living for the thrill to compete.

 

The song and the booze were doing their job. Though he recalled another night this song had played, a time when he’d thought his path was headed in a different direction. One where he wouldn’t be alone in his bed every night.

“Brother.” Rune’s voice was in his ear. Drag slapped the bar with his other hand in shock. He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t seen Rune. His younger brother was a skinny, tanner and far nicer version of him. The kid had a wicked mind too, for agriculture and farming. He’d single-handedly helped Frog Lick avoid starvation after they had lost their primary source of income the last couple of years.

“Come to give me a hard time about joining the celebration as well?” Drag could always count on Rune to hand things to him straight. His brother wasn’t afraid to tell him when he might be pushing too hard or making a bad decision. Like Gaia and Snapper, Drag relied on Rune to be a voice of reason during his time as leader.

“I’m here because you have a visitor.”

Drag smiled and downed another good gulp, letting the burn coat his throat. “Tell them to join the party.”

“Afraid that might bring more eyes to a situation we don’t want attention for. Might encourage you to stop downing that whiskey like recycle.”

“Who the hell’s out there? The commission?” Hell, their racer had passed all the tests. Gina had triple-checked everything, including their NiteOx conversion that made sure to follow all regulations. “If they’re here to accuse us of cheating, tell them it’s too late.”

Rune leaned in and whispered in Drag’s ear. “It’s Bridget.”

Drag immediately sobered and the glass of the bottle cracked in his hand, whiskey seeping out through the edges over his skin, cool and wet. “Where is she?”

“Outside. She wants to talk. To parlay, is what she said. Said you know what she meant, but I believe her. She has that Inccukai assassin with her, no entourage.”

Drag also believed no good deed went unpunished. So of course that bitch would show up now, during his moment of triumph. She’s a damn leech.

“If I’m not back in one hour, get everyone outside and prepared for a fight.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Rune asked as he grabbed hold of the bottle in Drag’s hand. “You can release the bottle.”

“Good idea or not, if I’m not back, that means I’m dead or she is. Just be ready.”

No interaction between them since that fateful day tended to end without someone injured. The one conversation with Hemi present had been an exception. From the moment she’d betrayed him, this was the way things had gone. The question was why the hell had she chosen to show up now?

 

* * * *

Bridget Macintosh had come for one reason. Now, as she stood waiting in this metal-roofed and walled shack, she couldn’t help but consider this might be a trap.

“How did you get out of here before?” she asked the Inccukai who was blending in with the shadows against the far wall. They were near undetectable except for their eyes, bright red irises that peered at her from the dark.

“There’s a dug hole in the corner, covered by a plate. I made it myself, though this building is used a lot more than when I first created it.”

The implication was clear—the Inccukai had been spying in Frog Lick long before they’d been installed as a personal bodyguard for Bridget by her gang-town sponsor. More like a spy for my own deeds.

Bridget knew every move she made, any word or action, was shared with their sponsor via the hired assassin. Often Bridget had to exaggerate her reactions to display the kind of ferocity her gang had come to expect. Similar to what her sponsor wanted as well.

The fire, the anger and damn it… She clenched her fists tight and rolled her shoulders a couple times. I’m still angry. Pissed off that she was anxious about seeing Drag again. Hell, the last time they’d exchanged words, he’d threatened her.

“I’ve got the tape. Looks like you bribed a commission official for access to our area. The proof is mine, and all I need to do is expose you.”

An error on her part—the very killer in the corner meant to protect her was supposed to have gotten rid of that physical evidence instead of leaving it on a hard drive hooked up to their mainframe. Proof the Inccukai had been cataloging ways to get her so wrapped in she wouldn’t be able to get out.

She’d wanted to scream at Drag about how she’d had no choice, rail at him so he’d understand how she was forced to do whatever the bastard she’d allied with wanted, especially if it meant keeping the food supplies coming in to feed the gang and the contacts who wanted ships to increase the profits. Profits the sponsor took as much as he gave supplies in return.

I need him to see the mess he left me with.

Because it was his fault. She wouldn’t be in this situation, vulnerable, alone and forced to do what she’d sworn she’d never do if he hadn’t left her. He could have stayed in Macintosh gang, helped them rebuild after her father’s death and claimed everything he’d earned. Moag Cheatham, her sponsor, had asked her for one thing in return and Drag had chosen to believe Snapper over her.

She’d always been left behind or put second. Even now, knowing that Cheatham was working against her, she had to come up with a better plan. A way to do something for herself. While she might stand here and consider begging Drag for his help, getting his agreement would be near impossible. She’d come to this drastic decision amid finding out her time as leader of Macintosh was numbered, that the one person who would do anything for Bridget was Bridget.

I’m going to save my own damn self.

The door at the front of the building swung open and she heard Drag before she saw him.

“I thought you said she was waiting outside the Watering Hole. This is down the street and you should really be putting her—”

“Hello, Drag. Congratulations.”

He was swathed in shadows. She could barely see his face, just the corner of that strong chin of his, covered in scruff, paired with a strong bulky shoulder. “Fuck this. I’m going back.”

The Inccukai moved like a damn puff of smoke from the corner to blocking the door. Drag hadn’t entered alone. His younger brother Rune, who Bridget had approached first, stood right behind him.

There were about ten steps between Rune and the Inccukai.

“Joseph’s balls! What the hell is that?” Rune shouted.

Drag sighed. “Her little hired weapon. Looks like we can’t leave.”

Drag closed the distance between them by half and that was when she got a good look at him in the low light. His eyebrows were hunched, his gaze damn near predatory and she didn’t miss the way his jaw was clenched. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t choke you to death with this metal monstrosity of an arm I have.”

“A Mars Shipping Commission appeal.”

“Rune, wait with Bridget’s killer outside.”

Rune clucked his tongue. “I told Petal I would—”

“Ten minutes, that’s it. I give her a few to explain herself and then she’s out the door.” Drag cracked the knuckles on his human hand one at a time.

“How do I know I’ll be safe?” Bridget had to ask—she had only seen Drag do such a thing right before he threw a punch.

Drag grinned. “You don’t, but I’m sure that assassin of yours will kill me quick if I touch a hair on your head.”

“Wait outside, Trio.”

“Funny, the creature has a name,” Drag replied with a smirk. The idiot seemed to want to bait himself into a fight.

The Inccukai pushed open the door first, holding it for Rune to follow, which he did after exchanging glances with Drag. Trio didn’t go right away. No, they waited for Bridget to give confirmation.

“I’ll be fine.”

Three words were enough to get Trio outside and give her a false sense of security where the Inccukai was concerned. This fool’s hope that somehow, they had become her friend and cared for her more than the paycheck they received from their boss.

When the door squeaked shut, Drag looked at her again. She wanted to see him up close, and wished she’d thought to illuminate the room to take in all of him. He had always possessed his own gravitational field. From the moment she’d been seven, she’d been a sucker for him. The emotional tangle had grown worse as she’d gotten older.

Until that day.

“Better speak fast. Ten minutes.”

She anxiously brushed some loose tendrils of red hair behind her ears. “You’re always putting time limits on everything. Can we just see how the conversation progresses?”

He took another step toward her. “There’s a reason for that. I can only handle you in small doses.”

She smiled and let the tension in her frame drain away. This was good territory for her, familiar, this trade of barbs. “That’s not what you used to say.”

The growl he let loose hit her straight in the damn tits. Her nipples tightened, and she tried to hold onto her anger, not the reality that even now he could still awaken and arouse her body without even touching her. Fucker.

“Those words came before you got my arm cut off.”

The gap melted away. They were mere inches apart and she wanted to do something insane. If I rub up against him like a cooncat against a cactus, then yep, I’ve lost it. Even if he talked about his arm and her role in him losing the appendage.

“You look better with the cybernetic part.”

The gleam in his eye, paired with a half-grin that matched the insanity rolling through her entire body, almost made her jump. She was like a live wire sparking. All she needed to be grounded was a good dose of Drag.

“It squeezes real well, too. Stop fucking around and tell me why you’re here. If you say for sex, I’ll throw you out right now.”

The mention of the word had her standing up straight and taking two steps back. She ran her hands up to the tie holding her red hair back and made sure it was secure. Idiot. Top prize for her dumb ass, she’d been ready to kiss, maul and climb him like a goosemert in heat. There were stupid things and then stupider things. Showing that much of her own thoughts to Drag would be bad.

“Here I was hoping if I put some physical pleasure on the line, you might be more willing to help me.”

“Afraid my services are already engaged elsewhere. Get to the point.”

Jealous heat replaced the tingling sensation on her skin. The question was on the tip of her tongue. She’d demand he tell her the name of the dust honey who he’d decided to be faithful to. Then I’ll rip her fucking throat out.

A little extreme, and it wasn’t like she’d been a saint since Drag had gone to Frog Lick. She’d found her own pleasure with whoever she could. Small pleasures that didn’t amount to much but scratched the itch.

“I need your help. A truce for starters. We’ll call off the war between us, no more bombs. No retaliation for what happened with Jack. Can you agree to that first?”

Starting out slow would be best. At least her father had always said, “Don’t play all your cards right away.” The old man she’d loved with every ounce of a daughter’s admiration had always related his concepts about living to cards and games of chance.

Besides teaching her to play, he had taught her all life’s lessons could be seen in the cards. Bridget flipped one out from the hidden pocket of her jacket sleeve. The Ace of Clubs.

“So?”

Drag stroked his jaw. Those strong, callused fingers on his human hand would be rough against her skin. “A truce between Full Throttle and Macintosh. How long before you break it?”

“I get that trust between us doesn’t exist. But it’s a good word. We truce, then I discuss the business opportunity I have for you.”

“We review the opportunity first, then if I like it, we can review terms for your surrender.”

She snorted. “I said truce. No way am I surrendering anything.”

“You’re halfway through your time.”

Damn it. He was still holding her to that ten-minute bullshit.

“Fine, we’ll just be going in circles anyway.” She took a deep breath and summoned the courage to speak the truth amid fear he’d laugh in her face. Fuck it, I’ve been laughed at before. “I need help. My sponsor is planning to overthrow me. He wants me as his wife and won’t take no for an answer. He’ll put someone else in charge, someone he can control.”

Surprisingly, Drag didn’t laugh. He stroked his chin and the shadow of growth already covering it. “I take it when you couldn’t deliver our engine that proved a problem?”

“More like another excuse he could use against me. My failures just keep racking up. Each one is used to spread discontent among the gang from his plants. Even the bodyguard.”

“And what can I do?”

This was it—the opening she’d wanted—and now she’d dare to ask him for what he’d denied her twelve years ago.

“You can marry me.”