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  The warmth had been the same, but the scent of Holt’s jacket had been subtly different, sharper than the sandalwood musk of Blakely’s. But the scents had combined on her skin and complemented each other in some strange way. Like two separate notes that together made up a deliciously sensual, utterly masculine cologne. She had wanted to keep wearing Holt’s jacket long after she was obliged to give it back. Beside the intriguing scent, it had covered her torn dress.

  Sadie shrugged, it wasn’t like the dress was any great loss—actually, she never wanted to see the horrible thing again—but it was the only item of clothing she had brought with her in her mad escape aside from the high-heeled gold pumps that matched it. As a result, she was wearing one of Blakely’s shirts, which was so long on her that it could be used nicely, as a dress as long as what you wanted was a minidress. It was a deep green that suited her creamy complexion and, like his jacket, it exuded a faint whiff of sandalwood.

  The shirt tails hung down to midthigh, doing an adequate job of covering her, but Sadie would have given her right arm for a pair of panties. She would have to be careful how she sat, she supposed. Get over it, Sadie; it’s not like they haven’t seen the goods already. How do you think you got invited on this trip anyhow?

  She made a face at herself in the holo-viewer. One step at a time. Right now it was time to stop hogging the fresher and go back out to the main cabin of the needle. Sadie had been impressed by the small but luxurious ship at first, but Blakely had assured her it was on loan to their department from the narcotics division who had confiscated it on a bust.

  It was time to quit stalling. She shrugged, patted her hair one last time, took a deep breath, and left the tiny room to go find the two men with whom she was going to be spending most of her foreseeable future.

  5

  She lit up the whole cabin the moment she stepped through the door, Blakely thought. Her hair was a gorgeous golden brown color that reminded him of melted caramel, and it matched her eyes almost exactly. It fell in a wavy mass nearly to her waist and he wondered how she had managed to hide it all under the ridiculous scarlet wig. He couldn’t help admiring the way his shirt looked on her, with the green fabric hugging her luscious full breasts and draping gracefully over her silky thighs. She was still wearing the gold high heels, apparently the only surviving bit of her prostie-borg outfit, and her legs seemed to go on forever.

  Holt was apparently having similar thoughts about the new addition to their team because he turned to the dark-haired detective and said, “Well Blake, you never looked quite that good in that shirt. I vote you let her keep it.”

  “I second the motion,” Blakely agreed, without taking his eyes off the vision in front of him. Her honey-colored eyes tilted exotically and her full pink mouth looked extremely kissable. He knew Holt was nervous about taking a strange girl along with them on the mission; he could feel his partner’s apprehension through the ever present T-link they shared. He couldn’t help thinking that it was a stroke of good luck, however, both for them and for Sadie, that he had picked her out of the prostie line-up. Where would she be now if he hadn’t, with her Overlook-Me chip blown and the ore transport not due back for a whole week? Of course, she seemed like a girl who could take care of herself. But hell, he liked a girl with some spunk, and it didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous.

  “Hey, c’mon over and take a load off,” he invited her as she hesitated on the edge of the circular room.

  “Hi,” Sadie said shyly, crossing to sit beside Blakely on the c-gel couch and across from Holt who was sitting in the lounger opposite them, long legs spread out in front of him. The comfort gel obligingly began to conform to the shape of her body and Sadie jumped up and whipped around, glaring accusingly at Blakely.

  “Hey, buddy, I don’t appreciate…”

  “It’s just the comfort gel, Sadie. It manipulates itself to support you,” Holt told her, amusement evident in his deep voice. She flashed an annoyed glance in the blond man’s direction.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that before. Or felt anything like it either. I thought…” She turned back to Blakely.

  “You thought I was coppin’ a feel.” He grinned at her. He was relieved when she smiled tentatively back. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I thought the same thing the first time I sat down on this damn gel couch. Nearly punched poor Holt over there for gettin’ fresh. C’mon,” he gestured to her. “Sit back down; it won’t bite. Feels kinda nice once you get used to it.”

  “Well…” She sank reluctantly back onto the couch and sighed involuntarily as the gel molded around her shape. “It is kind of nice,” she admitted after a moment. “Firm, but giving.” If Blakely had been alone with his partner he could have thought of several choice things to say about that comment, but one glance from the blond detective was enough to make him bite his tongue. He couldn’t help smiling, though, and was glad to see an answering smile from Holt in return. It’s all gonna work out, buddy, you’ll see, he thought, wishing his partner would relax about having Sadie along for the ride.

  “Try taking off your shoes,” he suggested. Sadie looked at him uncertainly.

  “Why?”

  “The carpeting’s semi-sentient synthi-wilk,” Holt explained. “Kind of like a cross between wool and silk that wants to rub your feet.”

  “Try it—’S better than a foot massage,” Blakely promised her.

  Sadie looked uncertainly from one man to the other and finally slipped off the gold spiked heels and let her bare soles rest on the plush maroon carpeting. Blakely saw the ripple in the deep nap as the semi-sentient carpet went to work on her dainty feet. Her toenails were painted a pale, innocent pink, he noted.

  Sadie sat quietly for a moment, a strange expression growing on her face. She pulled up her feet and crossed them under her, madly giggling. “Sorry…” she gasped at last as the two men gave her puzzled looks. “St…stood it as long as I could but it just tickles too much!” She smoothed the tails of the shirt down modestly, being sure she was covered, still helplessly giggling. Blakely grinned as he studied her, cheeks flushed from laughing and eyes bright. She looked so innocent—like a little girl.

  It was an unguarded moment, definitely not in keeping with her projected image of a tough, self-sufficient reporter willing to do whatever it took to get the story. Despite her wanton display and unspoken but definite promise of sexual favors in the pleasure cubicle at the Prostie Palace, Blakely got the feeling that she was a lot more inexperienced than she wanted them to believe. Probably not a virgin, but innocent just the same, he thought, his detective’s instincts kicking into drive. He couldn’t wait to get Holt alone and compare notes. He just hoped his partner wouldn’t start telling him not to get his hopes up again. Blakely hated it when Holt got in one of his down moods, which had become a lot more frequent since Gillian had dumped him. Dumped him because of me—because of us. It was an unhappy thought, but not an unfamiliar one. Why was it so damn hard to find a woman who could understand and accept the reality of their lives? One who could handle all they had to offer together?

  “Hey partner, the lady asked you a question.” Holt’s voice cut into his reverie and Blakely looked up to see Sadie looking at him expectantly.

  “Sorry, kid. Guess I was daydreamin’,” he said.

  “I think I can guess about what.” Holt gave him a significant glance. Blakely looked back at him neutrally.

  “Later for that, blondie,” he said casually, knowing he was playing his part to a T. Sadie flushed as she looked back and forth between them and Blakely’s heart gave a little lurch. The poor kid was scared to death about what they were going to do to her. He didn’t mind teaching her a lesson, but still…

  “I just wanted to know where we’re going,” Sadie explained, looking up at him out of those big, honey-colored eyes. She still had her feet tucked under her and the posture made her look very young. “And what’s going to happen to the prostie-borgs that aren’t really prosties?”


  “Well,” Blakely said. “We’ll send the sample you swiped for us off to the lab. A full-scale bust should reveal which prosties have synthetic brains and which are black market transplants. Unfortunately for the transplants, even if we rescue them they’ll be stuck in the prostie-bodies. The mind rapers left the original human bodies to rot on Phoebe when they cleaned out the colony.”

  “Well, with good treatment a body grown in the flesh tanks should last as long as the original body they lost,” Sadie said.

  “And a prostie body has no inherent genetic defects, so at least they’ll be healthy.”

  “Physically, yes.” Holt’s voice was sharp, and he sat up from his lounging position and leaned forward, steepling his long fingers. “But what about mentally or emotionally? Think what they’ve been subjected to, most of them over and over again. And don’t forget that only half of the colonists who were mind-raped were women—the other half were men who were shoved into female prostie-bodies. The BRC is going to have the mother of all gender identity crises on their hands when we finally get them off the syntho-narcotics. Thank the Goddess that at least they were all adults.”

  Sadie’s small hand stole up to her red mouth. “I…I didn’t think about that. What will the men do? Having to live in the body of the opposite sex for the rest of your life…how horrible.” She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself which caused the V-neck of the green shirt to gape interestingly.

  “That’s gonna be an issue for the Body Reclamation Council that’s being formed on Old Earth, kid.” Blakely grimaced. “Poor bastards.” He meant both the colonists and the people that would have to deal with the messy issue of body reclamation.

  “I think they got a sample of everybody’s DNA before they cremated the originals, so theoretically it should be possible to re-grow all the lost bodies in the tanks,” Holt said.

  “Theoretically? Why not just do it?”

  “Think of the price tag, sweetheart,” Blakely ran a hand through his hair “Who’s gonna pick up the tab? Your average Joe Taxpayer ain’t too eager to spring for a whole new body for some colonist from the back-side of the galaxy he doesn’t know from Adam. So the BRC is gonna have a hell of a time getting funds for that particular project. Unless…”

  “Unless we can find the scum who mind-raped the colonists in the first place,” Holt continued the narrative seamlessly to Sadie’s obvious interest. Blakely saw her noticing the easy interaction between his partner and himself and wondered if she had any suspicions about their situation. If she’s a halfway decent reporter she’ll have a clue, he thought.

  “If we can find the bastard who’s responsible for this, the BRC can order him to pay punitive damages to the tune of three thousand brand new bodies for the people he wronged, not to mention some other pretty nasty penalties. That’s our job now—to track down the person or organization behind this whole operation.” Blakely picked up the narrative from Holt again. “Besides the colonists missing bodies, we wanna keep it from happening again. Whoever did this in the first place isn’t gonna stop. It’s too damn lucrative.”

  “I assume you have some leads and this isn’t just some wild goose chase.” Sadie looked back and forth between them, as though trying to catch them in some nonverbal communication that would give her a clue

  “We have a few information sources we’re going to check out.” Holt’s words were cautious, not giving too much away.

  “And where are these information sources located?” She raised a delicate eyebrow in Blakely’s direction. Hmm, catches on quick. The dark-haired detective smiled at her with approval.

  “Iapetus for starters.”

  Sadie made a face. “Iapetus? What’s there except a lot of drunk miners and whore hous…uh, bars?” She blushed, not quite catching herself in time.

  “Now Sadie, what’s wrong with whore houses?” Holt teased her, a sardonic glint in his sapphire eyes. “We found you in one.”

  “That’s not the same thing.” She turned on the blond-haired detective angrily, clearly embarrassed. “I was there undercover and I never once…” Stopping short, she bit her tongue.

  “Not even once?” Blakely’s voice was dangerously soft. “Thought all you hot-shot reporters were into realism.”

  “Blake is right,” Holt said. “I personally can’t think of a better way to get a down and dirty story than to experience what the prosties have to go through on a daily basis. Didn’t the thought even cross your mind, Sadie?”

  “Yes, all right?” she burst out angrily, glaring at them both.

  “It crossed my mind the minute you and your partner picked me out of the line-up. It crossed it again when I made the bargain I had to make to get you two to let me in on this story. Look, I know what this is about.” She stood up, heedless of the carpet tickling her bare feet and began unbuttoning the green shirt with swift, jerky motions.

  “What are you doin’, sweetheart?” Blakely asked carefully as the green shirt parted, revealing the creamy swells of her breasts, topped with ripe, berry colored nipples and the tiny strip of curly thatch that decorated her sex. He stood and put a restraining hand on her arm but Sadie shrugged him off. Holt was hovering on her other side, clearly afraid to touch her for fear of upsetting her further.

  “I’m getting ready to pay.” Her voice came out small and constricted as though a hand was squeezing her throat. She took a deep breath and her full breasts heaved enticingly. Blakely drifted closer, unable to help himself. On the other side he noticed that Holt was also getting nearer, as though drawn by some invisible magnetic field.

  “Pay for what?” Holt asked carefully and Blakely was relieved to hear that his partner’s voice was still the calm, even tone of reason despite the situation at hand. Holt was always better than him at handling emotional crises.

  “You made it clear enough back at the Prostie Palace exactly what you expected of me if you let me come along,” Sadie took a step back so she could look at them both. The shirt hung open on either side, framing her luscious nakedness. Blakely noticed her honey-colored eyes blazed, but her full lips slightly trembled She was a lot more upset at the prospect of trading sexual favors for exclusive rights to the story than she wanted to admit, even to herself, he thought. It obviously wasn’t something she did on a regular basis. He opened his mouth to tell her not to worry about it, that everything was going to be okay and she didn’t owe them anything, but a sharp look from his partner stopped him. Blakely realized Holt wanted to teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget. His partner despised being manipulated and they had been burned by the press before.

  “What did we make clear, Sadie?” Holt asked her, still in that calm, neutral voice.

  “Don’t play dumb with me,” she flared at the blond detective. “I thought at the time that coming along with you two was the best choice. Thought it was better than staying at that damn brothel and being raped and maybe murdered if I was found out. Now I’m beginning to wonder.”

  Blakely couldn’t keep silent any longer. “Sadie, sweetheart…” he began, stepping toward her, but she didn’t let him finish.

  “Which one of you?” She looked from him to Holt defiantly. Putting her hands on her hips she thrust out her naked, ripe breasts, a deliberate gesture, a come-on that had Blakely’s cock hardening in his pants like a bar of lead. He could tell Holt was in a similar state of discomfort.

  “Which one of us what?” Blakely asked, as gently as he could. Her nipples looked achingly hard and he longed to lean over and suck one into his mouth while Holt sucked the other.

  “Come on. I want to get this over with.” Sadie tried to look bored and worldly, and failed miserably. Poor kid is scared to death, Blakely thought again. It did a lot to take the edge off his desire, but her lush body was still on display and his rampant hard-on wouldn’t die completely.

  “Which one of you wants to go first?” Sadie demanded.

  Holt stepped up to her side and ran one long finger down her throat from the love mark he had
made earlier to the ripe, pouting nipple of her left breast. He let his fingertip circle lazily for a moment before giving the tight pink bud a gentle tweak that made Sadie gasp. Blakely watched, mesmerized, until his partner nodded at him. Oh right, bad cop, bad cop, he remembered. He followed Holt’s lead and stepped up beside the girl. Capturing her other nipple between his thumb and forefinger he gave it a tender squeeze.

  “What if I told you both of us?” Holt’s voice was low and dangerous, the long fingers never leaving the nipple he was toying with so casually. Blakely looked up sharply, but the sapphire eyes were trained on the girl between them. Holt was intent on making a point. The dark-haired detective looked away from his partner and observed Sadie’s reaction to the question.

  “At…at the same time?” Sadie’s voice was choked, disbelieving. “I’ve never…I mean, I couldn’t…”

  “Sure ya could, sweetheart.” Blakely leaned in close to whisper in the little pink shell of her ear, never relinquishing the nipple he had claimed as his own. There was terror in her voice, disbelief but not disgust, he thought. He suddenly longed to reach between her legs and test the tender V of her sex to see if she was getting hot while they toyed with her this way. Would his fingers part the plump folds of her pussy and find her wet and ready for them—both of them—if he touched her there? Abruptly he released the nipple he had been torturing so sweetly and he saw Holt do the same.

  Moving at the same time they circled her, Holt taking the back and Blakely taking the front. Blakely moved forward, backing her up until she was pressed against his partner’s broad chest and her ripe breasts were pressed against the flat plane of his own chest. She was breathing rapidly, nearly hyperventilating with fear and titillation as he cupped her flushed cheek in his palm.