Page 67 of Solan

Vegas heard Padam yell before he was slammed against the wall. Another of Boros’s guards grabbed Heather in a choke hold.

“No! Stop.” Vegas made to run toward Heather, but Boros’s blade sliced across her arm. She dropped the blade, clamped her hand over the wound and stumbled backwards, hitting the wall and sliding to the floor. She was trapped. Solan was gravely injured, Padam had been downed by the guards, and Heather was unconscious.

Boros also wasn’t finished with her. His kick made contact with her shoulder. She felt the impact judder through her bones as she spat curses through gritted teeth.

“Kicking a woman when she’s down. That’s hardly noble Galaxar behavior,” she hissed at him as he loomed over her with his blade.

“You have one final chance to end this,” Boros said. “Submit to being my mate.”

“I’d rather feel that blade embed itself in my stomach than have your hands on me.”

Boros grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to her feet. “As you wish.”

Slamming her back into the wall, Vegas saw stars as Boros’s hot breath huffed against her neck.

“No, you don’t.” Diadora appeared behind Boros. “The only person who gets to abuse my staff is me.” Using her cyborg arm, she smashed the blade out of Boros’s fist before yanking him round by the shoulder and slamming an uppercut under his jaw.

Boros flew backward through the air and smashed into the ground. He did not get up.

Vegas wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. Had the boss who hated her just saved her from being impaled on a Galaxar sword?

She tried to struggle to her feet, but nothing worked. Her limbs were like rubber, and her stomach lurched. If she wasn’t careful, she would blow chunks all over the corridor.

Diadora glanced at her, her gaze sharpening. “You look dreadful. Stay where you are. You won’t bleed out right away. Keep pressure on your arm wound.”

Vegas’s startled gaze went to Boros, who was sprawled on the ground. He wasn’t getting up anytime soon. Hurrah for cybernetic appendages. Maybe she needed a few of those to deal with the next horny, out of control alien nutball who came onto the space station.

“Why did you help me?” she stammered.

“I can’t afford to lose an employee. With all the red tape, it’s too much hassle.” Diadora winked at Vegas as she checked on Heather.

“You kept me alive so you don’t have to go through a recruitment process and fill in a few forms?”

“What can I say? I hate paperwork.” What looked like a smile drifted across Diadora’s lips.

Several words that didn’t sound like English fell out of Vegas’s mouth. She gave up trying to talk and stared at Diadora.

“Heather is not dead.” Diadora brushed her hands together as if removing dirt from them.

“And Solan?” Vegas whispered. He wasn’t moving, and he was bleeding, a lot.

“Someone will deal with him.” Diadora activated her wrist comm. “Security, we have a contained fight on C Deck. We require a clean-up crew and a medical team.”

“Acknowledged. We’re on our way.”

Diadora shook her head as she glanced at Vegas. “Try not to pass out. I need to get back to work.”

“Wait! You’re leaving me with this mess?” Vegas gestured weakly at the bodies on the ground.

“A capable employee like you will have this sorted in no time.”

“So long as I don’t collapse because of blood loss.”

“You’ll be fine. Get this situation under control. I want a full report.” Diadora strode along the corridor without a backward glance.

Vegas sucked in a breath. What was going on? What had just happened? She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. She was not going to faint. People needed her. Solan needed her. He could be dead. Maybe he needed no one. Maybe she’d lost her chance to be with him.

Vegas yelped and kicked out as a hand wrapped around her ankle.