Red Light Specialists (12 page)

Trinity

“Simon, Abbi, do you read me?” Agent Trinity spoke into her wrist as the fuzzy effects of the A-mac rippled through her body. Looking around, she took in the sights of Mixlione and let a smile creep over her face. It’d been too long since she’d been on the party scene and this place looked as though it played host to a perma-party.

I can work with this.

Being locked away on Restigatio for the past two years had left her longing for some good times. It had been too long since she had a stiff drink and an even stiffer cock, preferably one not clothed under her boss’ slacks.

Granted, Simon had her almost screaming out in ecstasy with the power he’d covered her with, but it felt wrong to have done that with him. He’d been one of her only friends for years. No part of her wanted to jeopardize that.

A girl could go only so long without sex before she either lost her mind or sprained her fingers from self-pleasuring. It wasn’t as though the guards on Restigatio were anything that appealed to her. Since she was an RLS agent, many of them assumed they were able to not only date but fuck her as well. It was easy to see why the guards would assume that. Many of the agents did sleep with them. Some even had relationships that lasted only to the point that Simon found out about it.

Simon didn’t go for relationships between guards and agents and the men knew it. But who could blame them? The agents were pretty, single, hot. And it wasn’t like they really had to do guard duty. The agents roamed freely around the RLS facility so there was nothing really to guard. The only time they had to work was if anyone escaped. No one had ever escaped. Abbi made sure of that.

Still, if Trinity had really wanted to, she could’ve ridden several of them until she reached her zenith. After they served their base purpose in giving her pleasure, she would’ve cast them aside. But the idea of taking a man she didn’t want turned her stomach.

Because of her pickiness, Trinity was left to either sleep with men on missions, which she didn’t do, or masturbate. Needless to say, she picked the latter of the two and was now an expert at it. Yeah, she could make herself come in less than five minutes. As sad as that was, it beat letting strange men fondle her.

When Simon approached her about joining the elite rehabilitation unit of the RLS-69s, she’d jumped at the chance to get out of that hellhole commonly referred to as the general prison population. It wasn’t every day that an inmate on Restigatio was afforded an opportunity to shorten their sentence—especially an inmate who’d been convicted of murder. She would’ve been a fool to pass it up.

Trinity was a lot of things, but a fool wasn’t one of them.

Tapping the RL-com chip embedded in her wrist once, she waited for the tingling sensation that indicated it was activated. She had this happen before. The A-mac didn’t get the information she needed implanted during her transfer down and she had to download it manually with the com chip.

She frowned. The com part didn’t seem to be working. No one was answering her.

Though by the slight tingle in her head, she knew the information would be coming soon. Now, all Trinity had to do was stay hidden until the planet downloads took effect. If she were lucky, it’d happen any moment. Knowing her luck, it’d be an hour or better. She’d been on too many missions to expect this one to flow smoothly. They never did. If she wasn’t being hunted by a serial killer, she was knee deep in Garifton’s green swamps being attacked by giant killer leeches.

She shuddered at the thought of the sludge that she’d been forced to crouch down in as she watched a rebel base for the greater portion of a week. By the third day, she smelled as bad as the swamp and was sure the odor would never go away. Upon her return to RLS-69 headquarters, Abbi had promptly disinfected her.

Trinity looked around, nervous that her new assignment might involve a similar situation. Glancing down, she saw she was dressed in a slinky black dress, pantyhose and heels. Hopefully, the dress clothes meant no swamps. As comforting as that was, it still didn’t rule out the prospect of serial killers.

Oh, well, a girl can’t have everything.

It never ceased to amaze her how the A-mac knew exactly what to clothe them in while transporting them to their target destination. It even remembered to equip her with some of her favorite weapons, a phaser ring and heels with retractable blades in them. In a tight pinch, she could slice or blast her way out—always a fun tension reliever.

Trinity opened her black handbag and found it filled to the brim with odd colored chips. A square card held an image of her face and had writing on it she couldn’t, as of yet, read. Once the planet files loaded, she’d know what it said.

One thing was for certain, her first name would remain the same. That was the only stipulation she had before doing each mission. Changing names constantly increased the chances of a slipup, and having her cover blown could leave her dead. Death wasn’t exactly high on her list of lifelong dreams, so she stuck with Trinity to avoid such mistakes.

Pushing the chips aside, Trinity smiled when she found her “special” tube of lipstick. While it was completely functional, it also served as a camera when needed. With it, she could record events. Should the need arise to obtain proof of something, she had only to twist the tube the wrong way and it would activate the camera.

Surveying the area, she couldn’t help but smile. Twelve of the last fourteen missions she’d been on had been strictly surveillance and that always equaled boring. The only good thing about being stuck with surveillance duty was that she wasn’t expected to seduce anyone.

She was one of a dozen or so RLS-69s that had been with Simon from the beginning. The rest of the agents were fairly new and on their first or second missions. They had been trained in the art of seduction along with several styles of martial arts, weaponry, survival and just about anything else Simon could throw at them.

Though the other agents hadn’t completed the entire training, they had the core portions done. Technically, since the addition of a new course, cooking, Trinity was missing that course. She’d attempted to opt out of it but Simon reminded her of the disastrous birthday dinner she’d planned for him once. The cake, or dried hunk of hard something, had been hard enough that it broke her pinky toe when she dropped it.

I’d rather seduce a man than cook him dinner and that’s not saying much.

Trinity had never been comfortable in the seduction department. As much as she loved sex, she still couldn’t bring herself to rub against strange men that didn’t appeal to her. She did it when she absolutely had to, and she did it well. Thankfully, Simon’s “seduce but don’t fuck” policy gave her a good reason to end the escapades before they got out of hand. It was set into place for their protection more than anything. They were hired guns who just happened to look good in lipstick and lingerie. That didn’t mean they were required to fuck their way through every mission. Some RLS-69s did use sex as a weapon, but Trinity preferred more traditional methods—knives, laser pulsars, poison, the list was really endless.

She’d only come close to breaking Simon’s unofficial rule once and that was only because she’d been drugged with a poison dart on Vedieone. When she woke to find herself in a rather compromising position, she beat the living shit out of the person responsible and served his head on a platter, literally, to the King of Vedieone. With their serial killer dead, Vedieone no longer had need of the RLS-69’s services and she was free to return to Restigatio. However, the king, a powerful man in his own right, had wanted her to stay. He attempted to marry her off to one of his sons. As sweet as that offer was, and as sexy as the princes were, such a destiny wasn’t written in the stars for her.

No. Trinity was a lone gun now. Marriage didn’t factor into the equation. The king handled the rejection of his offer to her rather well and insisted that she allow his head sorcerer to “bless her”. Seeing no way out of it, Trinity had allowed it. She’d bid the king good wishes and left. Upon her return to Restigatio, she took the required downtime and then headed out on her next mission.

A buzzing began in her ear and Trinity knew that the A-mac was launching its download sequence. She swore the machine hated her. Most of the girls got their downloads on the way down. Simon said it was because her missions had more details to them.

One sharp pinch later and the information started flowing into her mind. Another sharp pinch happened. Trinity grabbed her head and moaned. It had never done that before. The information flow stopped abruptly.

This isn’t a good sign.

Tapping her wrist, she again tried to contact to Simon. Nothing happened. Oh, this was very bad indeed. Trinity accessed the few files that had managed to download and was sorely disappointed in their content. Fragmented images of a man with short chestnut-colored hair and matching dark eyes appeared. As quick as his face popped up, it was gone, being replaced by a sense of danger.

Trinity was used to the warning of danger on a mission. What she was not accustomed to was the overwhelming feeling that the man was in grave danger.

Was that her mission? Was she supposed to protect this nameless stranger? The A-mac gave her a location and on a planet the size of Mixlione she could look for eons without finding him. There had to be something more. She searched her mind and found nothing. Her only hope was that the A-mac had deposited her in the vicinity of her target.

The sound of music filtered to her, and she crept toward the edge of a large building. Unsure of what she’d encounter, she edged her way toward the walkway, doing her best to keep a low profile. Equipped with only a minimal amount of weapons, she didn’t feel like taking on an army, especially while dressed for a party.

“Hey, sweetness, lookin’ for some action? I’d like to pound that ass a few times.”

Trinity turned to find a group of men standing behind her. Where had they come from? Worse yet, what were they planning on doing? She backed up slightly, giving herself room to maneuver if need be, and smiled. It the boys wanted to play, she’d play. It would be a shame to get such a pretty dress dirty but it’d be worse to pass up the change the beat the crap out of these fools.

* * *

Waylon Balch pulled the busty blonde that had become his shadow at some point during the evening off him. Placing her on the stool next to him, he pushed several turquoise chips her way. Her eyes lit up.

“Are these for me?” She touched each chip tentatively as though she was afraid they’d hurt her. He’d never heard of three quadrillion mixlionions doing anything beyond setting a person up for life but he could have been mistaken.

He refrained from making any rude comments, as hard as that was, and forced a smile onto his face. “Yes, consider it an apology.”

“An apology for what?” Her enhanced lips were ridiculously large and the sexy pout she was going for looked more like she’d been stung by a
gelipson
bug than alluring. The damn things infected every galaxy in the universe and no doubt would be the only thing left alive in the event that the universe would end.

“For my dismissal of you.” He bit back a smile as her eyes widened. “Your services are no longer required. In fact, they were never required. I’m sorry you were led to believe I needed company. I’m sure you’ll find the sum more than adequate. Feel free to discuss any further matters with my associate, Rupert.”

Her mouth dropped open and she looked offended. Apparently, she wasn’t used to rejection.

Too bad.

Waylon wasn’t about to spend the night with her under him. For some insane reason Rupert thought he needed “company” to keep himself stress free. Not to mention their species, the
figiutatio,
were dying out and the need to procreate was high. The only problem was Rupert’s choice in women. He liked his women with abnormally large breasts, fuller than average lips, dyed hair and little brains. Thankfully, none of the women to date had possessed any human DNA or Rupert could have found himself shackled to a bimbo for the rest of his immortal life.

Sure, the women Rupert selected were perfect if Waylon wanted to sink his cock into something and toss it out after use, but that wasn’t what he craved. No, he wanted someone who could stand toe to toe with him in every aspect of his life—a friend, a lover, a companion, a mate. Rupert’s prostitutes didn’t even come close to fitting the bill.

Waylon left the woman sitting at the
pixeton
game table. If she decided to sit there and gamble away the money, it was her choice. He just wanted to get away from her as fast as he could. Her cheap perfume had been enough to make his stomach turn. He needed air and now.

“Waylon, are you there?”

He cringed at the sound of Rupert’s voice through his built-in communicator. He’d forgotten to deactivate the damn thing. The last thing he wanted to do was explain his reasoning for not fucking Rupert’s “company picks” again. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Well, how is she?”

Waylon pushed the casino doors open and headed out into the night. He needed to walk, to stretch his legs and clear his mind. “She’s great, thanks.”

“Aww, you left her at the bar, didn’t you?”

Waylon smiled despite himself. “You know me well, buddy.”

“I sure do and that’s why I already had a backup picked out for you tonight. Before you say anything, you need to understand she’s not normally what I’d pick out for you.”