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  “Haven’t been hit with a tickler since training at the Academy,” he muttered, getting shakily to his feet with a hand up from his friend. “Forgot how much I hated it.” The sapphire eyes were like two chips of ice. Sadie’s stomach did a big flip-flop at the look on his chiseled features.

  “Hey now, she tried to warn you,” the dark-haired one reminded him. “Look, sweetheart,” he turned his attention to Sadie. “We’re gonna sit tight right here on the bed and not come anywhere near you so suppose you tell us your story? I bet we’re on the same side.” He pulled the blond man down on the rickety metal bed that was shoved to the far side of the room and sat looking at her expectantly. His partner allowed himself to be maneuvered but shrugged off the dark-haired man’s hand irritably once they were settled.

  “Please enlighten us,” he said sarcastically. “My partner and I are eager to hear your story.”

  “Well, first of all I’m not a prostie.” Sadie wanted to make that perfectly clear from the start. “And I’m sorry about the credit you spent; I’ll try to see you’re repaid, although you’ll have to give me some time because I’m flat broke right now…” She realized she was babbling. Now that the immediate danger of rape appeared to be over the cool blanket of ice had melted leaving her a bundle of nerves.

  “Calm down,” the blond man said, a little more gently. “My partner and I didn’t come here for sex.”

  “Y…you didn’t?” Sadie sank gratefully into the one chair in the room, which was bolted to the far wall. Really, the rooms were more like prison cells than pleasure cubicles, she thought. She cupped her elbows in her palms and crossed her legs tightly, covering herself as well as she could.

  “No. We’re after information and since you’re not a prostie maybe you can help us.” The dark-haired man looked at her hopefully. “I’m Detective Sergeant David Blakely and this here,” he pointed a thumb at the other man, “is Detective Sergeant Christian Holtstein. But he just goes by Holt. We’re a special unit assigned to Old Earth Vice to check into the prostie-borg racket.”

  “Tell her everything, why don’t you?” Holt muttered, giving the dark-haired detective a dirty look.

  “Hey, the lady needs a little reassurance, Holt. Quit bein’ such a sore-head just ’cause she got you with her tickler.” Blakely reached into the inner pocket of his black leather jacket and Sadie tensed but he shook his head. “’S all right, sweetheart, just goin’ for my badge,” he reassured her. He withdrew a worn leather wallet and tossed it to her. Sadie fumbled it at first but managed to catch it and flip open the leather. Inside was a dull, titanium badge with a small blue and green holo of Old Earth floating above it. On it were printed Blakely’s name and rank, Detective First Class.

  “Well.” Flipping the wallet closed she tossed it back. “It certainly looks genuine, although I’m sure you could fake that kind of thing.”

  “Great,” Holt muttered. “The lady’s a skeptic. You know who we are, so who are you?” he asked, a little frown on his full lips.

  “I’m undercover here,” Sadie evasively replied. If they really were cops they would probably be reluctant to deal with the press in any form.

  “Oh yeah, what agency?” Blakely looked genuinely interested.

  “None of your business. Just don’t blow my cover and I won’t blow yours.” She shivered and rubbed her palms over her bare arms. Did they really have to keep these cells so cold? Holt’s face was stony, but Blakely got a sympathetic look in his dark blue eyes. He removed his leather coat, revealing the butt of a deadly looking blaster hooked under his arm in a shoulder holster. Sadie wondered why he hadn’t drawn it earlier when she was threatening him with the tickler. Must not think I’m much of a threat. She frowned. Making sure the pockets were empty, the detective tossed the jacket across the room to her.

  “Here, kid. Warm up a little.”

  “Thank you.” It occurred to her to refuse the generous offer, but when she considered how cold she was and how much skin the mesh dress exposed, she decided the gesture wasn’t worth it. She slipped the oversized jacket around her shoulders and snuggled into the body heat still lingering from the dark-haired detective. The faint, comforting scent of sandalwood soap clung to the leather making her want to turn her face into the collar and deeply inhale. She restrained herself and settled more comfortably on the chair.

  “I’m collecting information about the prostie-borg industry, too.” She nodded at them. “I’ve been here two weeks and I was scheduled to ship out on the next ore transport but my Overlook-Me chip failed. That’s how you were able to see me during the line-up. I’ve got some inside information I’d be willing to share for the right price.”

  “What exactly would the price be?” Holt asked sourly. The dim overhead light glinted on his hair, changing it from silver to gold and back again.

  “I need a ride back to Io,” Sadie said coolly as though it was the simplest thing in the world. “As soon as possible, I might add. I don’t want to have to go through this…scenario again.” She gestured to the three of them sitting in the sordid little metal room and shuddered delicately.

  “Oh, just a ride back to Io. Hear that, Blake?” the blond detective snorted in derision.

  “Sure did,” the dark-haired man replied shortly. “Don’t want much, do ya, sweetheart?”

  “I am not your sweetheart.” She frowned as she snapped at them. “My name is Sadie Thomas, for your information.”

  “Well for your information, Sadie, we are not an interstellar taxi service,” Holt snapped back. “We’ve got a lot further to go before we’re done with this mess. Titan isn’t our last stop by a long shot.”

  “Why don’tcha call in your back-up?” Blakely asked more reasonably than his partner. “Can’t they get you home?”

  “I…I don’t have any back-up.” Her lips began to tremble. Resolutely she firmed her mouth. It wouldn’t do to show any weakness.

  “No back-up?” the blond-haired detective exploded. “What kind of agency sends in an agent without back-up?”

  “Well…I’m sort of freelance,” Sadie admitted. She sighed. “I’m with the Io Moon Times, all right?”

  “You’re a reporter?” Blakely groaned out loud. “Oh man, do I ever know how to pick ’em,” he muttered under his breath.

  “You said it, not me, partner,” Holt replied, rolling his eyes.

  “Yes, but I can help you.” Sadie leaned forward in the cold metal chair and tried to look them both in the eye at once. “It’s like you said, we’re on the same side. We both want to put an end to this kind of sexual servitude.” She gestured to the door, thinking of the thousands of prostie-borgs and the sick things they were forced to do on a daily basis. “Think of these poor prosties. Just because they’re grown in the flesh tanks and have synthetic brains doesn’t mean it’s right to enslave them, torture them—even kill them,” she said hotly, warming to the topic. “They feel pain the same way humans do.”

  “Ah…while I do agree with you, sweetheart, it’s not quite that simple.” The dark-haired detective sighed and ran a hand through his thick curls. “Ya see, some of these gals might be more human than you think.”

  “Blakely.” Holt gave him a warning look, the light blue eyes flashing. “She doesn’t need to know all that.”

  “Why not?” Dark blue eyes looked back at the blond man challengingly. “She said herself that she’s been livin’ here for the past two weeks. Maybe she can help us spot which prosties are synthetic and which are transplant. Besides, it’s not like the BRC can hush it up forever. It’ll be all over the news vids pretty soon.”

  “Transplant? As in illegal mind transplants? Black market brains? Mind rapes?” Sadie definitely smelled a story—a much bigger one than she had originally been after. There were always rumors about such things, but so far no one had been able to provide substantial evidence. “I thought the whole mind rape thing was just an urban legend,” She tipped her head to the side and raised her eyebrows with skepticism.


  Holt sighed and mirrored his partner’s behavior, running one large hand through his straight blond hair until it stood up in a golden halo around his square-jawed face. He shook his head as though deciding that he might as well give in and share their information. “Yeah, yeah. Well, three thousand bodies minus their temporal lobes and cerebral cortexes is no legend. Someone cleaned out a whole colony on Phoebe. And that’s just for starters.”

  “Three thousand…” Sadie could barely wrap her mind around the concept. “But why…?” Phoebe was Saturn’s smallest and most remote moon and it had only recently been fitted with atmosphere domes and cleared for colonization. Now these two were saying that someone had wiped out an entire colony there—an unheard of crime and possibly the story of the decade. Forget writing this up for the Io Moon Times—Sadie smelled a Solar Pulitzer. It made her mouth water.

  “For purely financial reasons, kid,” Blakely answered her unspoken question.

  “Do you know how much a synthetic brain, even a low-end one, costs? Compare that with the average life span of a prostie-borg, especially at some of your rougher establishments and well…let’s just say when you do the math it ain’t pretty.” He shifted restlessly on the bed, causing it to bounce and earning himself a dirty look from Holt.

  “So you think that some of these prosties…” Sadie looked at the partners with wide eyes. “You know, they did bring in a fresh batch of them earlier this week. You can tell them from the older prosties by the blue tattoo on the right eyelid. And they seem different somehow. More, I don’t know…vacant. Not really there.” She frowned. “But it seems like a transplant prostie would be more emotional than a real one, not less, because a transplant would have more brain power and an actual personality instead of just an emotion chip.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving,” Holt said darkly. “If the new girls were transplant, they’d have to be keeping them under control somehow.”

  “Well…” Sadie thought about it. “Now that you mention it, the new prosties get an injection twice a day and the old ones don’t. I thought it was just standard procedure for new prosties, but…”

  “Syntho-narcotics.” Blakely snapped his fingers, indigo eyes narrowing. “Gotta be. Keeps ’em quiet and nobody knows the difference. Listen, kid, can you get us a sample of what they’re injectin’ the new ones with? If it checks out as an illegal substance we’d have enough evidence to order a full-scale bust on this place.”

  “Wait a minute, Blake, she’s not even…” Holt objected but Sadie cut him off.

  “I’m sure I can get what you need as long as I get to come along with you and get exclusive coverage on the rest of the bust. Otherwise, no go.” She folded her arms and sat back in the chair, tapping one high-heeled foot on the floor.

  “Hold on now, lady, you can’t just invite yourself in on something like this. It’s a federal case.” Holt’s voice was stern.

  “Why not?” his dark-haired partner countered, rounding on the blond detective suddenly.

  “Well because. The breach in protocol alone…”

  “Oh c’mon, as if you ever gave a damn for doing things by the book. What’s she gonna do if we don’t take her with us?” Blakely demanded. “Her Overlook-Me chip is blown. We can’t just leave her here to be raped or Goddess knows what, Holt.”

  “You can’t just take her along like a stray kitten you found on the side of the road, Blake. Think with your head instead of your heart for once,” the blond-haired detective shot back, poking a finger in his partner’s chest.

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Excuse me? Would you mind not talking about me like I’m not in the room?” Sadie had to raise her voice to be heard. Both sets of blue eyes turned in her direction. “Look, I can help you.” She stood and shrugged off the jacket, leaving it on the chair and began pacing as she made her point. “I’m good undercover,” she pointed out. “I’ve survived on my own out here for two weeks and I would’ve been fine until my transport showed up except for the rotten luck with my chip. I can get you information you couldn’t get otherwise. I’m sure you’re both very good detectives, but you’re men and most prostie-borgs are female. And I have extensive experience impersonating a prostie; I know what I’m doing.” Sadie took a step toward them, hands on her hips and breasts thrust out, showing all her flesh through the golden mesh of her skimpy dress. She knew what she looked like—hot, wild, and wanton. She normally wouldn’t act so brazenly but there was a big story on the line. A once-in-a-lifetime chance.

  “Hmmm.” With the mesh dress back in view and most of her considerable assets on display, the blond detective seemed to be rethinking his position. He exchanged an unreadable look with his dark-haired partner.

  “She’s got a point, Holt,” Blakely murmured. “I bet she’d be real good under the covers.”

  “Undercover,” the blond man corrected him, a sardonic grin curving his full lips.

  “That, too,” Blakely agreed, smiling back.

  The mood in the tiny metal room had changed. Sadie could sense it like a new weather pattern, the heat from both sets of blue eyes raking over her body and pulsing against her nearly naked skin. She blushed from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair, but she held her ground determinedly. Think Solar Pulitzer, she told herself. This kind of story could make or break her career.

  Holt looked at her appraisingly. “So you’re up for a little undercover work, hmm?” The blond man’s tone was mocking, but interested.

  Sadie felt her cheeks grow hot but refused to drop her eyes. “Absolutely. I won’t lie to you; a story like this could make my career. I…I’d be willing to do almost anything to get a first hand exclusive.”

  “Almost anything?” Holt drawled, rising with catlike grace from the rickety bed and circling her. He didn’t touch her in any way, but he was so close she could smell a faint hint of masculine musk that clung to his big frame. Sadie looked to the dark-haired detective for help because he had been so sympathetic to her earlier; but Blakely seemed content to watch the by-play between herself and his partner without saying a word.

  “Y…yes.” She hated the stupid tremble that came into her voice when she was nervous. She had no doubt what he was implying. Men like Detectives Christian Holt and David Blakely didn’t give you a free ride and an exclusive scoop on a story this big for nothing. There was bound to be a price, a mutual exchange of favors involved. Sexual favors.

  It looked like she was right back where she had started when Blakely picked her out of the prostie line-up.

  Trying to control the tremble in her tone and sound sophisticated, maybe even a little bored, Sadie asked, “What do you say, boys?” What would they think of her in Goshen right now if they could see her using her body as a bargaining chip to get an exclusive scoop? She pushed the thought away.

  Holt sat back on the bed and looked at Blakely. The look they shared seemed to convey something—some form of nonverbal communication that Sadie couldn’t begin to decipher, but at last the blond turned back to her and spoke for both of them.

  “Fine. You can come with us on the condition that you stay out of the way.”

  “And promise to behave yourself.” Blakely looked up at her from under the fringe of tangled black lashes and Sadie thought she had never seen a blue so deep.

  “I’ll be a perfect angel,” she promised, trying to regain her composure. “Cross my heart, officer. If I’m not you can put me in cuffs.” She held out her slender wrists, miming a set of restraints and then blushed. What had made her say such a thing? She was definitely going too far. From the look in his eyes, Blakely liked the idea.

  “I’ll have ta keep that in mind, baby,” he drawled, obviously enjoying the mental image of Sadie in a pair of handcuffs.

  Trying not to think about what she had just let herself in for, Sadie attempted to get back to business. “Well then it’s all set. You two bring your ship around by the back of the far dome, I’ll palm a sample of the evening injection, and we�
�re home free.” She smiled brightly and stepped away to go for the door, but a large, warm hand encircled her wrist, keeping her from completing the motion.

  “Wait a minute, sweetheart. Aren’t you forgetting somethin’?” Blakely’s eyes were a sleepy-hot blue in his dark face, and Holt was looking thoughtfully at her as well.

  “W…what?” Sadie quavered, all of her self-possession momentarily gone. “You said you weren’t here for sex.” At least not yet…

  “We’re not.” Holt’s voice was calm and he reached up to hold her other hand in a large palm, pulling her down to sit between them on the squeaky bed. Both men put an arm around her and despite the skimpy mesh dress, or maybe because of it, Sadie felt truly warm for the first time in weeks. In fact, she was beginning to feel distinctly overheated. “But I think what my partner is trying to say is, don’t you think we’d better make it look real? I mean, you’ve been in here for over half an hour, supposedly with two sex-starved miners who haven’t seen female flesh for a lunar year. Don’t you think you’d be a little…shall we say, roughed up if that were really the case?”

  “Oh, well…” Sadie flashed on the usual appearances of post-clientele prosties, the ones that were able to walk out under their own power that is, and swallowed hard. “I guess you’re right. I could, um, mess up my hair.” She ruffled the scarlet wig with one hand and looked hopefully from sapphire to indigo eyes.

  “Not quite what I had in mind.” Blakely’s voice rumbled in his chest and Sadie noticed that with his jacket off, she could see a hint of black, curling hair peeking from the neckline of his plain white shirt. The scent of sandalwood soap was stronger and Holt also gave off that appealingly masculine scent of musk and something else she couldn’t quite name. Something fresh and sharp…The scents seemed to mix in her brain making her dizzy.

  “What did you have in mind?” She kept her voice steady by force of will.