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  Dio’s face fell and his eyes widened. “Uhm, that’s not common knowledge. I thought you were…”

  She held up her hand, cutting him off. “No worries.” She touched the band around her neck and gave him a comforting look. “Besides, I’ve got more important issues at the moment than turning in renegade unnockis—vacationers.”

  The panic left Dio’s face. “I guess you do. Sorry about that, but neither of us ever wants to end back up in hell.”

  His gaze darkened and she noted his incisors lengthened as if the mention of hell put him on guard. Shia straightened, watching his every move. Adult male Sirians were known to be able to rip a person to pieces with those teeth, and in some cases they even produced claws during a fight to aid in their shredding abilities. She took a breath and did something that went against her training. She stood on the opposite side of the island counter and reached for his hand. At least with the counter between them, she might have a chance if he decided to attack.

  “Tell me about it, Dio. What was it like in hell?” Shia tried to sound as if she cared.

  In order to win him over to her side, she hoped it wouldn’t take too much of this sappy-type of conversation. She knew hell was a standard Kiengir design set deep in the planet’s core. There was only one other high-security prison planet, Mars, and it was escape proof. Mainly because no one lived once they reached its surface. The Kiengir saw to that when they turned it to dust and stripped it of its atmosphere. The Martians must have truly pissed off the Kiengir because their whole world was eliminated with one stroke of a Kiengirs’ hand. Yet another example of a Kiengirs’ strength.

  “It’s the worst place I’ve ever been. It’s nothing but a massive collection of caves and tunnels that intertwine throughout the core.” He visibly shivered and she read the fear and detestation in his eyes. “There’s no safe haven unless you have someone like Kal at your side. Without him, I would’ve been someone’s meal. That’s a fact I don’t doubt. The beings down there are like wild animals, hunting for food and protecting whatever area they’ve claimed.”

  Dio breathed deeply as if quelling his nerves. It seemed as if talking helped calm him so she didn’t interrupt as she gathered the items she needed to cook.

  “The Adamu think it’s a solid mass of extremely hot metal, but it’s not.” He shook his head. “That’s what I believed until I was encapsulated in a port-o-pod, and shot into hell via a direct-connect chute at the band of holes in Peru. Hell, the name fits. I didn’t think I’d end up in a prison.”

  “What’d you think happened to violent criminals?”

  “I didn’t think.” He shrugged. His tone tinged with anger. “Besides, I committed no violent crime. No one got hurt or killed. I simply lifted a ring and bam, no trial, no nothing, just straight to hell.”

  Shia couldn’t believe what she heard. That wasn’t the normal. Then again, the intel she read listed him as a thief, who usually didn’t land in prison. Their sort were attached to a work detail, rehabilitated, given a job, then released. This process worked most of the time. On occasion, there were the multiple offenders who just couldn’t resist stealing. In her opinion, that category of thieves had a sickness running through their veins. Was Dio on his way to being one of those? A lifetime thief? He had lifted her weapons without so much as her feeling them leave her battle suit.

  “Whose ring did you steal and why?” And that’s where she seemed to have crossed a line with him. Dio straightened in his chair and leveled a hate-filled stare directly at her.

  “That’s none of your business.” He automatically returned to flipping through the channels.

  Shia backed off and busied herself with preparing the food. Apparently, she’d touched on a sore subject. The moment the steaks hit the grill pan, she had his attention again. His nostrils flared and she believed she even saw a hint of drool at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t kidding about being hungry.

  “Could you make it rare?” His voice sounded small and the look in his eyes was one of pure hunger as he stared directly at the pan. “Please.”

  “I thought the Kiengir jettisoned food and supplies into the prison on a monthly basis.”

  He snorted. “They do. But if you’re not in the right spot at the right time, you get nothing. It’s first come, first served, screw everybody else.”

  That’s not the way she understood it. According to the intel she’d read, every prisoner received food, water and clothing—enough to last for a month if rationed correctly. She placed the rare steak on a plate, turned and set it in front of him. He couldn’t cut it up fast enough. Shia touched his wrist, stilling his frantic motions. When he looked at her, she saw the desperate hunger that riddled his soul and it speared her ice-cold heart. If Dio spoke the truth—and from the look in his eyes and his actions she believed he did—then something was terribly wrong with the prison system.

  “You don’t have to eat it fast. No one is going to take it from you. And if you’re still hungry when you’re done, I’ll cook you another one.”

  He nodded and appeared humbled by her words. “Thank you.”

  The moment she released his wrist, he dove back into eating, but at a much less frantic pace. Shia poured him a large glass of milk and set it beside his plate. He simply smiled and kept eating. She removed the bowl of soup she’d placed in the microwave to heat. She put it, a spoon and a glass of ice water on a tray.

  “I’m taking this to your partner.” She nodded toward the fridge. “Help yourself to whatever you’d like.”

  Shia lifted the tray and headed toward the bedroom. Dio’s insight into the prison made her ill-at-ease. She knew it ran without any formal guidance in the actual core. Prisoners were shot into the prison maze via chutes created eons ago. Each chute was calibrated for a different star or planet. When they had a prisoner to send, they locked them in a port-o-pod and sent him on a direct route to hell. Their port-o-pods dissolved upon entrance into their assigned cell. But according to Dio, there were no cells, just caves and mazes. How could that be? Prisoners roamed about, preying on one another and the food packets were not being properly dispensed. First come, first served? This was something she intended to bring up to the High Guard.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught her reflection in the mirror as she passed the open bathroom door in the hall. The black band stood out against her pale skin as if it were a bright red sunburn. First she had to get out of the mess she was in. And that meant getting control of the baton.

  Shia entered the bedroom and stilled. The big man had somehow managed to remove his dirty jumpsuit without any help. It lay crumpled in a pile beside the bed. Every inch of his massive chest bulged with muscle. The man had biceps the size of her thighs and his abs had abs. He was ripped more than anyone she’d ever seen. Heavy-eyed, he sat partially upright, leaning against the headboard. She’d expected to find him out cold. Guess she should’ve used two vials of Panacea.

  The closer she got, she noted he didn’t move nor did he speak. Shia set the tray on the nightstand. Leaning, she stared directly into his semi-opened eyes. A low snore met her ears and she couldn’t help but smile. The big man was asleep with his eyes open. Probably, a tactic he used to make other criminals believe he was awake so they’d leave him alone or at least think twice before attacking.

  In as gentle a move as possible, she searched for the baton. Neither hand held it. Using the lightest of touches, she patted down the blankets around him.

  “Looking for this.” Dio’s voice stalled her actions. Shia did a slow turn and met his humor-filled gaze. In his hand, he held the baton, waving it at her. Damn. “Kal knew you drugged him so he gave it me for safe keeping.”

  How the hell did he know? She returned her stare to the big man. Anger percolated in her gut. This guy was unbelievable. Without looking at Dio, she asked, “Can you help me roll him? That dart entry hole needs to be attended.”

  “Sure.” He tucked the baton into the cargo pocket on his right thigh and z