A Pregnant Trint Is Still Formidable

An excerpt from Hard As Roxx, “Who’s Your Daddy?”

“So, your brilliant plan is that you kidnap me, Roxx rushes off to rescue me in a fit of rage and you kill her.”

“Something like that,” he answered. He had the disconcerting habit of talking with his hands, gun hand included.

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen that movie. I didn’t like it much.”

“I promise you, this is no movie. There will be no happy ending unless you cooperate. Now sit down!”

He aimed his gun at Trint’s belly. The threat and message were clear: “You are required to be alive when we land. Your child is not.”

Trint smiled, but the taste of it was bitter in her mind. She sat down and began rubbing her hands over her protruding belly.

“What the hell are you doing?” Emersen asked. He came and stood over her.

“Soothing my baby. She seems to be trying to kick the shit out of you.”

“Well tell her to stop it, or you’ll both get shot.”

She smiled and stopped rubbing. “It’s okay, I’m done now, anyway.” Trint tilted her head in the way Roxx did when she was maneuvering. “I’m thinking there are two flaws with your plan, Emersen.”

He looked genuinely amused. “Oh really? And what would those be?”

“One, Roxxy hates movies, except for old westerns. The idea of rushing out like the hero and rescuing the damsel in distress? She would think that’s stupid. Roxx would just as soon talk Poppa into nuking the damn place before we get there.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem.” Emersen laughed, but this time, it sounded hollow. He knew Roxx, knew she was just crazy enough to do it. He was hiding something, but he was still scared of her. “And what is the second flaw?”

It was her turn to smile. “Why do you think me and Roxx got together?”

“Because for a dyke, she’s pretty damn hot.”

“Well, there’s that, except for the d-word part. Actually, it’s because despite what people may think, Roxxy and I are soul mates. And you know what?” Trint asked, leaning forward, her bound hands still on her belly.

Emersen gave a smirk and leaned forward too. “What, Miss Trint?”

Trint brought her hands up swiftly and jammed her hidden knife into Emersen’s throat.

“I ain’t a goddamned damsel in distress, bitch, that’s what.” Trint stood quickly, Emersen’s blood gushing down her arm. His eyes were open, his mouth working, though only gurgles were emitted from his punctured throat. No-chest, who initially reeled back in horror, now regained a bit of composure and rushed toward Trint, his hand fumbling in his pocket. She grabbed Emersen’s hand, which was still holding his gun and squeezed the trigger.