Read Online Rebel's Consort - Phoenix Book 1 by KH LeMoyne - Free Book Online Page A

sweet flavor refused to dispel the oily, tang from his taste buds. “Honestly, the synthetic whiskey is horrible. It should be illegal to make alcohol from kelp.”
    “It is,” Hena added, unimpressed.
    He snorted. Hena would never have pulled off what he did, ferreting out the secrets from people who depended on them to survive. Gads, sick. What was he thinking? Hopefully, Hena wouldn’t ever need to run scams.
    With a raised brow, Analena prodded, “This valuable information?”
    “I found out more about Trace.” He sidled a glance at the kids. The children shifted, moving closer expectantly as Analena opened her mouth, prepared to send them to the back room. “They deserve to hear this.”
    She flinched, closed her eyes for a moment, and then met his gaze.
    “He has no connection with anyone here. That’s the first thing they deserve to know.” He glanced at Gar. The kid waited on a cue from Analena. They all did.
    “Fine. At least Bits is already asleep.” Her gaze rolled over the ten children in the room. “The rest of you are old enough. So, where the hell have you been, Aaron?”
    “Your creds procured three fine bottles of synthetic whiskey.” He closed his eyes for a minute. “To endure three grueling hours of Babcock’s past.”
    Hena screwed up her face and leaned back against the rock wall from her pillowed seat on the floor. “How about we get to the important part?”
    “There’s a guy on my delivery route, Babcock. He’s been helpful in the past.” Aaron leaned back as well. “After a bottle or two, he gets more helpful and pretty loose with information. He’s let slip before that he worked in the Med Lab building, near Regent’s Square. Rumor had Trace linked there years ago, ten, maybe more.”
    It had taken two full bottles before Babcock got into the gritty stuff. Aaron had tipped the bottle between them, filling Babcock’s glass and then his own, discretely keeping a third glass below the table, so he could switch them back and forth and appear to be keeping pace. But as the second bottle drained to its finale, Aaron had almost given up any hope of getting more details on Trace.
    “Must be nice for those that live in the high rises above the grids,” he prodded. “No worries. Clean water, food, solar generators to power all the new toys.”
    Babcock grunted and rolled his lips over his teeth. “Safer here.” He took a deep swallow and thunked his glass down for more, but once refilled, he let the glass sit. “I used to work up there.”
    “No joke?”
    “Nah. Nice security desk job with the Med Lab. Sat there all day checking IDs, not a care in the world.” Babcock grabbed the glass with meaty fingers and stretched out his forefinger to point at Aaron. “Good day, sir. Good night, sir. Cake.”
    “Those docs must have it made.”
    He slurped his whiskey and glared at Aaron over his glass as if waiting until he took his own sip. “Some of them got no problems at all. Some got no soul, either.”
    “You knew a lot of them.”
    “Most.” He waved the glass. “Not one knew me. Lucky thing.”
    “Sounds like all ego.”
    The glass lowered to the arm of the chair. Babcock gazed off to the side, replaying something in his mind as Aaron waited.
    “One fellow’s wife used to come to work with him. Pretty thing, curvy, long carrot hair. Walked him in, did all the kiss-on-the-puss right in the lobby. First few months, it was all good. A proud, big guy with a swagger, all well-paid family man with a high-end rep.” He took another slurp. “Time goes on, the swagger’s gone. The wife’s still walking him in, except it’s more like she’s dragging him. Her eyes still gleaming, making eye contact with anyone important. Liked the high-end life, she did. Whatever his issue, she towed him in whether he wanted to be there or not.”
    Two minutes rolled into five, and Aaron thought he’d finished.
    “Wife stopped coming one day, but the doc—he dragged in. Same big dude,