Rebel Intelligence (Star Scrapper Book 3) by J.N. Chaney & Matthew A. Goodwin

Author:J.N. Chaney & Matthew A. Goodwin [Chaney, J.N. & Goodwin, Matthew A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Variant Publications
Published: 2024-04-10T00:00:00+00:00

17

“They’re not here,” Imogen said too as she reemerged, her face a mask of worry. “I don’t know where they would’ve gone, but they must’ve run. I know it.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, worried that the Inquisition had found them.

“Because they took the cat carrier with them.”

“You have no idea where they would’ve gone?” I asked.

Imogen shook her head, pacing back and forth along the carpeted floor. “But I also saw that some of the wardrobe was gone and their luggage. Something must’ve tipped them off.”

“If you think that they know the Inquisition is after them, that means they could be watching this place right now,” Lara said, and I couldn’t help but look around for bugs in the room, but not seeing any cameras sitting out in plain sight, I stopped the search.

“We can’t stay here,” I asserted. “But where should we go?”

“Gemma,” Imogen said.

“What’s that, a neighborhood?” Lara asked.

“Your cousin?” I asked.

Imogen nodded before turning and running over to the computer in the corner of the room, sitting down, and logging onto the feltwork. She did some quick searches. “Spicy!”

“What?” the two of us asked in unison.

“It’s the new hot club. We can go there and ask Gemma where Louise and Duncan are,” she said. “She was always close to them in the same way that I was.”

“I hate to tell you this,” Lara said, hands on her hips and staring at Imogen, “but the three of us are not getting into any nightclubs looking like this.”

“Unless you guys have some cocktail dresses hidden away, I think she’s right,” I agreed.

Imogen looked at the two of us and appraised us in a strange way. A little smirk crossed her face. “No, but we can raid my aunt and uncle’s closet.”

She turned, and we followed her into their bedroom, which was little more than a bed, dresser, and closet beside a small bathroom. Bussel might’ve been a dump, but even the smallest apartments were twice as big as this.

Imogen began going through the closet, pulling out clothes, and throwing them on the bed quickly. Soon, a classic gray suit emerged in one hand with a button-down shirt, vest, and pants all on the same hanger.

Without looking, she shook it at me, and I understood the implication. I walked over, grabbed the outfit, and took it directly into the bathroom. When I shut the door, the light automatically flickered on. The space was cramped. Well, cramped doesn’t really do it justice.

For reasons I couldn’t possibly fathom, the toilet was right under the showerhead behind a frosted glass area and was separated by only enough space for a small bath mat to the sink. A square mirror was set into the wall above, and two metal cases housed florescent lights on either side.

Quickly, I stripped out of one outfit and began pulling on the other. To my surprise, the fit was okay. A little tight in the shoulders and a little loose in the gut, but it didn’t look like I was wearing somebody else’s suit.

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