Zohra Series Book 2: Shurak
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Nooz Aster
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The Burg Job
Book 2: Shurak
âBurg called again,â Rita announces, slapping a note onto the counter as if it personally offended her.
I snatch the rag from my shoulder and snarl at the name. âWhat the hell does that place want now?â
âSame thing they always want. Trouble.â Rita leans against the counter I just cleaned.
I tap the note. A job, of course. High risk, high pay.
The Burg prison deals with slavesâbuy, capture, ârehabilitateââthen sell them off.
We get called in to ensure the prisoners are up to standard for sex work or to see if theyâre worth turning into a high-quality sex slave.
But itâs in the fucking east.
âI hate the east,â I grumble.
âYou hate everyone,â she mutters.
Fair.
But I especially hate the east. When the aliens invaded, they split everyone by skin colorâwhites to the east, blacks to the west.
Iâm not even from here, caught up in it on a business trip with my boss. I was supposed to become a lawyer.
But we got separated, and I was shoved with the group heading west. We barely escaped the aliens, hiding in some unmapped mountains.
Then the race wars startedâagain. We were right at the border, and the folks on the other side were hillbillies who cared more about skin color than the alien invasion.
I stuck it out for a while but eventually bailed with the help of Finn.
We were in the wilds for a couple years until the next round of bad luck hitâthe fuckwad sold me.
Some aliens were trafficking âpretty girlsâ on their spaceship, selling us off to aliens.
But I wasnât about to be anyoneâs property. So I hatched a plan with the girls. We seduced the aliens, played the long game, and then just⌠killed them.
And now, Iâm the captain of our whore vessel. Absolute giga-upgrade from being a lawyer.
I learned a thing or two from Finn. Survival skills.
So, I made sure my girls know how to start a fire and handle the basics. We are all sex workers. Not a quirkâa necessity.
No one else would take us. Weâre what our new life spat out, making do with whatever skills we can scrape together.
âWhoâs the package?â I ask.
Rita hesitates.
I narrow my eyes. âYouâre hesitating. Thatâs never good.â
She sighs. âA familiar prisoner. Burg wants to test one last time if we can fix it.â
I scowl. âFamiliar?â
âCandice, Greece, and Reyes have been there.â
I slap the note off the counter. I watch it skitter and drop. âAnd they still want more? This guy must be made of gold.â
âIt is a Zohra,â Rita smirks. âYouâll need to ask the others if heâs golden.â
A Zohra. The kind Finn was. Big, surly bastards. Strong and fucking terrifying bulldozers.
No wonder they want more visits.
âRight.â I turn for the door. âWake the wolves.â
I ring the comms and start gathering the crew in the command centerâhalf cockpit, half war room.
Dim lights flicker over scratched metal tables, screens pulsing with data streams.
I stand at the head. âAll right. Got info on the Burg prisoner?â
Reyes leans back, smirking. âYou mean that mute Zohra in Burg?â
Sheâs our feisty blonde, a white chick we picked up from one of the prisons we hit.
I frown. âMute? Seriously?â I glance at Rita. âThe dudeâs mute?â
Rita shrugs. âAll I got was âprisoner with past visitsââno details.â
âWhere the fuck did they even snatch a Zohra?â
Reyes shrugs. âI was as shocked as you, but when I saw him, it kinda made sense. Heâs not as big as the others.â
âSmall or not, you donât mess with a Zohra.â I kick off my boots, settling into my seat.
Weâve tangled with Zohra before. Theyâre decent enough, but cross them, and youâre screwedâbare hands, brutal swords, whatever.
Guns? Rare. If you spot a Zohra pirate with one, snap a picâitâs a once-in-a-lifetime shot.
âWas he young, then?â I spin my chair around to face her.
Reyes flips her hair back and scrunches her brow in thought. âNot sure. He did show a little emotion, so probably?â
Candice, our smooth-talking, undercover diplomat from Colombia, always lands us the worst clients but walks away unscathedâor richer.
âHe looked older. Maybe heâs a vagrant, like that one guy.â
âFinn,â I say, my mouth twisting in disgust.
Before anyone can comment, Greece drags herself in. She yawns as she slumps into a leather chair. âI was having a damn good nap. Why wake me with that screeching?â
I grin. âMorning, princess. Party last night?â
She scowls. âI donât scream in your ear when youâre hungover.â
She took a headshot early in the invasion. The aliens patched her up, but the trauma wiped her memoriesâthe only thing she recalls is Greece. Hence, the name.
âDid you check out the mute Zohra too?â I ask.
âYeah. Weird guy. Kept dodging touch, even chained Zohra style. Squirmed like hell. Didnât push itâIâm not getting crushed if he snaps.â
I rub my neck. âWhy the fuck does it have to be a Zohra? If this leaks, weâre gonna have someone on our asses.â
Reyes laughs and pats my shoulder. âMoney, dear captain. We need more ammo. If anyone can get that stiffy up, itâs you.â
I nod toward Candice. âShe already went, and sheâs our expert on Burg.â
Candice pops her gum. âNot gonna lieâhe creeped me out. I donât deal well with Zohra.â
I sigh. âYeah, I was hoping weâd skip going back east.â
Reyes snorts. âRace wars ended years ago, Jas.â
Candice lets out a dramatic sigh. Then, with perfect timing, she repeats, âYouâre more innocent than I thought.â
Greece joins in, singsong mocking, âItâs never over.â
Theyâre both parroting me, like clockwork every time this comes up.
I glare. âHardy har har. Fuck off. Fineâletâs get me to Burg.â
Rita interrupts, her eyes locked on a screen. âRequest from Valletta just came through.â
âFuck, no rest for the wicked,â I mutter. âRoger that. Send me to Burg. You guys hit Valletta. Donât leave me stranded in that dump.â
âWeâd never,â Rita says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
