Blow the Man Down (Pirates of New Earth Book 4) by Branson Sarah

Author:Branson, Sarah
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sooner Started Press
Published: 2023-03-10T00:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

Holy Shit

Thursday, June 30, 2366. Bosch Hall. Ten bells.

“Ho-ly shit,” I hear Rash say. I completely agree.

Gia comes to stand next to me and puts her hand on my shoulder while she provides this young woman with a taste of her piercing stare. “Are you saying that Vice President Rob Abernathy…?”

“Is my father? Yes.” Recruit Porter answers her in a voice that seems to be growing stronger. She looks back at me. “And I think he has your children. Because I heard him talking about three children before I left at the beginning of the month.”

I shrug off Gia’s hand and swiftly come around to the chair this plain young recruit sits in, spinning her story. I put both hands on the arms of her chair and lean threateningly in toward her. “Where? Where the fuck are they?” My voice is angry and demanding, and I see her draw back from me. I can feel my hand wanting to rise to strike her. I catch my breath as I hear Gia say softly, “Kat…”

I squat down, still holding the arms of the chair, and lean my head back, closing my eyes and giving a deep sigh. I open them and look at her, my face and my voice softer. “I’m sorry. Do you have any idea where they might be?”

Her eyes are wide like a frightened animal’s. She shrugs and whispers, “Maybe.”

I’ve frightened her, but her fearful face stirs a memory in me. “Wait here.” I go to the door, and Rash steps aside, his comm in his hand. He says in a low voice, “I messaged Warner. He should be here in a few minutes.” I reach up and squeeze his shoulder in appreciation, then go to Olivia’s desk and request that she make a comm for me. I take a breath and return to my office.

I look at the recruit as Rash retakes his position at the door. I need to build a bridge. “Can I get you some water or tea?”

She looks at me with concern and shrugs a little. “Water might be good.”

I go to the small cabinet that serves as my bar, grab a glass, and open the icebox. I take out the pitcher of cold water, pour some, and then bring it to her. She drinks a sip and then holds the glass in her hand. Her uniform has a name tag that reads “F. Porter.” I nod at it. “F. Porter?”

“Flossie Porter. That’s my Bosch name now. I couldn’t very well enlist as Farris Abernathy, could I?” She shrugs.

I contemplate this as I sit back down at my desk. The names of the children of both the president and vice president of the FA are easy enough to find. Who is this recruit? I don’t know if she is telling any kind of truth, though what would be the point of lying?

“Why would Rob Abernathy’s daughter enlist in the BPF? It makes no sense. If you really are his daughter, then you must have had a pretty cushy life.

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