* * *
When the big Trog stepped out in front of him, Lucas froze in the hallway.
Its yellow eyes widened. Many creatures relied on scent as well as vision for identification, and Lucas was grateful that Trogs didn’t have a good sense of smell. He could adopt another’s appearance, but the nose was the most difficult to fool.
To the Trog, Lucas looked like the injured guard. “Suil? What are you doing here? I thought you’d be laid up for another week.”
Lucas noted the dominant posture in the squared shoulders and the arrogance the creature wore like a second skin. It all added up to one thing—this Trog was higher on the pecking order than Suil. So he hunched a bit and avoided direct eye contact. Then he called upon the conversations he’d overheard in the infirmary.
“Had enough of lying around. If I want to afford that cycler, I need to be working.”
The big Trog’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You fit to work?”
Lucas patted his tunic over where the partially healed wound would be, and winced slightly. “Nothing that will keep me down.”
To his relief, the leathery head nodded. “Good. Follow me. We have a new client coming in, I want a full showing of teeth in the display room.”
Lucas’s heart accelerated. This was so not in the plans, but he could hardly go back on what he’d just said, not without garnering suspicion. On the upside, it seemed like he’d be getting a front row tour of the basement storage.
All the underworld lords had places designed for clients to view their wares. A few dealers he’d robbed had smaller versions, very useful for a quick grab if you could circumvent their meager security.
He was generally good at that. This wasn’t the first time he’d posed as a guard. Might be the first time he’d be forced to act in the role, though. This wasn’t any small-time dealer, either. If Lucas didn’t play his cards just right, it would be game over.
He followed the big Trog around the corner and down another hall. A lift stood empty at the end, but they continued to the stairs. The two passed more guards on the way down, and they all nodded respectfully to Lucas’s guide; confirmation his companion was quite high up. Possibly even the chief of security. Lucas searched his memory—the two guards had mentioned their boss. Xolto. That was it.
Just his luck to run into a head honcho.
The door at the stairs’ landing was heavy and solid metal, but the lock was opened with a simple key. The big Trog and he emerged in the basement, and Lucas fought to act nonchalant at the small fortune in merchandise displayed in the elaborate cases. He didn’t often steal weapons; they were much more difficult to sell. Crystals, and their dust, could be offloaded for currency almost anywhere.
Several doors led off the main area. More solid metal, but again, opening with keys. A few moments with his picks, and he’d have them.
Only six not-so-small problems—and they stood against the walls. They all straightened when the head honcho and Lucas entered.
“Do we need to be here so early, boss?” one asked, and then took a step back when the big Trog leveled a glare at him.
“If I want you here, you’ll be here.”
“Yes, Xolto.”
Lucas swallowed. He’d been right as to the identity of his escort. It was either extremely bad luck, or very good, depending on how things played out. He was in the right place to do damage, if he lingered after the exchange.
It all hinged on just how long this was going to take. After an hour, he’d be working hard to keep his disguise. Any longer, and things would start to slip. This could end with the best score of his career, or his demise.
The adrenaline surging through him made him twitchy as hell.
Xolto turned to him. “Suil, I want you with me when Udo arrives.”
Oh, crap.“Yes, boss.” Lucas strove for the right blend of subservience, and it seemed to work. He took a deep breath and asked, “How much longer do we have?”
Xolto checked the chronometer strapped to his wrist.
“An hour. I suggest you practice patience. Lack of it is what landed you in the infirmary to begin with.”
Lucas averted his eyes and nodded. From what he’d overheard at the infirmary, their advances on a colleague had not been well received. Considering their wounds, they had definitely picked the wrong female to tangle with.
Which made perfect sense, when one had let slip that she was a Dragona.
As Xolto checked that the doors were secured, Lucas leaned against a display unit and concentrated on conserving his resources.
