Mack 'n' Me: The Wolves of Alpha 9

looked like something a fashion-conscious lady who needed to do a lot of short-notice running might wear. I wasn’t so sure about the leggings. I was also not sure about the armored corset under the bodice, although Case said that would pass inspection much more easily.
When a third blend-suited shooter popped out from between the lead shuttle and the one we were running for, I could only hope she was right. There was no way I was going to be able to pretend that shooter had missed. If Mack hadn’t had my arms trapped, our cover would have been well and truly blown.
I tried to reach for the blaster he’d refused to let me carry, and couldn’t.
As the first burst hit my chest, Mack let go with one hand, drew his own gun, and fired. He was fast, but whoever these guys were, they were faster. Mack left a line of scorch marks in the rear armor of the shuttle, and the shooter disappeared.
After that, it didn’t matter, because we’d hit the shuttle door, and Targil and the four guards he had with him, dragged me out of his arms as they hauled us inside. I really hoped Case was right as Targil set me on my feet, and smoothed my skirts down over my boots. There wasn’t a hope in Hades Belt that he hadn’t seen my leggings and footwear.
He said nothing about them, but reached out to grab Mack’s gun and redirect it as he guided the big guy inside. By that stage, the shuttle was already lifting into the air with no regard for my apparent fear of heights.
Not that I cared.
The corset might have done its job in protecting my vitals, but my back and side felt like I’d taken Mack on when he’d been having a bad day and didn’t care if I’d need tank time after.
Not true, girl, he said, but the voice in my implant sounded like it had been dipped in gravel.
“You hit?” I asked, surprised to hear my voice break the otherwise quiet cabin.
I hadn’t realized.
“Got me in the back,” he said, answering out where it could be heard. “Dry cleaners are going to have trouble with repairs.”
“Any penetration?” Targil demanded, and Mack shook his head.
“No. Sweetling?”
And there he went again. I hid the look on my face by twisting my head to check my side. When I saw the damage, I remembered my persona, and managed a credible wail.
“My dress is ruined!”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and turned me, making a show of inspecting the damage.
“I’ll get you another one. From that little place on Beta Zee.”
Beta Zee? I could only hope there really was such a place, because I’d never been there.
“Play along,” came through the implant, and I sniffed.
“You don’t understand,” I whined. “I can’t go out looking like this! You’ll have to take me back to the ship.”
Targil cleared his throat, but Mack had an answer.
“We can’t go back there,” he said. “We’ll be late—and we can’t have that, now, can we?”
I glared at him, letting my bottom lip quiver.
“But... but... I can’t,” I protested, letting my whine grow into a wail. “You can’t be seen with me looking like this. It wouldn’t be right. You’ll be upset.”
And I made that sound like the worst thing in the world.
The look on Mack’s face was priceless. I don’t think he’d ever been accused of being that kind of man, before, but given where we were, it seemed like a fair call. Fortunately, he got it.
“And I don’t like you making a fuss,” he added, in a voice so stern that I flinched.
I turned the flinch into a gasp, and closed my mouth with a snap, turning myself so I could lay a hand on his chest, and raising a beseeching face to his.
“Please don’t be mad,” I whimpered.
He looked down at me, and then stroked my hair with his other hand.
“I could never be mad at you, dearheart,” he managed, and somehow we both managed to ignore the howls of laughter echoing inside our heads; Tens and Case were beside themselves.
I could only hope they hadn’t thought to record this.
“They’d better not have,” Mack muttered, and we both realized that they’d have had to, since we knew we’d need to review the footage when we got back to gather as much data as we could.
Well, that was embarrassing.
“How about I see what’s available locally, and we find you somewhere to change privately before we meet his lordship.” He looked up at Targil. “That can be arranged, can’t it?”
I followed Mack’s gaze, making myself look hopeful, but still on the verge of tears. Targil looked from Mack’s face to mine, and didn’t quite manage to hide his feelings of distaste.
“I’ll see what can be done,” he said. “I’m sure one of his costumers will have something that will fit your lady.”
It made me remember what Case’s files had said about Barangail: the man was yet to marry, but he had a half dozen concubines. The idea of wearing something he’d had commissioned for one of them made me feel sick to the stomach, and I protested.
“I couldn’t possibly wear something meant for someone else!” I said. “It wouldn’t be right!”
A flash of anger crossed Targil’s face, but he quickly smoothed it away.
“The costumers are allowed to create their own designs. I would never dare to offer something my lord had commissioned for one of his ladies. I am merely suggesting that there will be something in your size, and it could be waiting when we arrived, instead of having to be brought in from the city, and delaying your arrival further.”
Not to mention all the security risks that such a delivery would entail, although I was sure he expected Mack to understand. Mack did. He nodded, and played the high-handed husband card, once again.
“Then we are settled,” he said. “I’m sure my lady would be honored to wear something by Lord Barangail’s costumers. I hear they are