La’Rue Gant flipped up the visor of her welding helmet, looked at the circuit panel for a moment, then took off the helmet and turned toward the storage unit. In the background, loud music played. While it might not be the smartest thing in the world to do at the moment, La’Rue had never really cared what anyone else thought. She lived by one rule – hers.
“Which isn’t such a bad idea, La’Rue darling,” she muttered to herself, “considering you are on a planet of assassins. Why not go to a place where the residents would love to slit your throat just for the fun of watching you bleed out? But, hey, it might be more profitable for them to hand me over to Bog. My face is probably plastered on every screen in the galaxy. f**k Slate and his f*****g thirty thousand credits owed.”
She wouldn’t b
