Excerpt:

“We regret to inform you that your application to the position of Novice Investigator to the Force was unsuccessful…”

Kyli cringed at the still crystal-clear memory. For a woman who had happily faced down armed rebels, traveled through space for years on end to secure outlying posts and free slaves, she had been surprised at how badly upset she had felt hearing the cold, unyielding words from the monotonous droning words of the rejection-hologram the Force Recruiting Department had sent her.

Tempted as she had been to beam the damn hologram, disintegrating it with one well-placed shot into its mouth and out the back of its non-existent head, she had resisted the urge, not wanting to piss the Force off. Besides, with the way modern technology continually advanced nowadays, she had no idea if her fit of pique might have unforeseen ramifications later on.

She had, however, made childish faces at the sightless hologram, and flipped it the bird a number of times. Immature, sure, but it had made her feel soooo much better!

Though she would place a lot of credits on the guess hundreds of people had wasted holograms before, particularly disgruntled ex-mercs being denied access into the Force’s team, she didn’t want to go groveling for a job with that sort of temperamental black mark against her name. And so she had restrained herself and dismissed the holographic messenger once it had said its piece.

And then the second note had come.

The one that had brought her here to the crappy bar instead of keeping her locked away in her small lodgings for a pity-party and consequential tipsy but intense replanning session with her own bottle of Blue Vodka or maybe Red Whiskey.

Heard you were back. We missed you. Meet at the Corner Pub, 2100 hours.

It was unsigned but then only a small group of people knew about the Corner Pub and what it meant. The “Corner Pub” was in reality a sleazy bar with the name “The End of the World,” and resided on a very dilapidated street, which unlike most of its neighboring roads, hadn’t seen any of the more common renovations.

Back when Kyli had been a new recruit, wet behind the ears and eager to explore and save the entire galaxy, she and a small group of their wet team had frequented the place after the taxing nights of training.

Kyli thanked the femserver as she left the shot on her table. She’d give her mysterious guest another ten minutes and then she would head on home. She had an unopened bottle of Red Whiskey she could move onto to continue her “celebration”. If she was determined to get plastered tonight to forget the fact her life had taken a few wayward turns recently, she might as well do it right. Tomorrow she would begin to plan how to enter the Force.

Looking around the dim bar Kyli tried desperately to ignore the most potent of her old memories.

Frowning, she realized it might just be easier to remember them and then move on. Looking down at the untouched shot, she raised an eyebrow at it and herself.

Tonight must be the night for remembering the past.

Now that she had returned home and truly decided to remain here, finding a short-term sexual partner couldn’t possibly be too hard—

Oh goddess, no! Not here, not now—

Kyli resisted the urge to duck underneath the table where she sat. As if her stroll down memory lane had conjured them, Gregor and Max stalked towards her. Interestingly enough, other members in the bar almost seemed to sense them coming. People moved out of their way, practically opening a path between the two men and her small table. It looked extremely cool. Kyli just watched for a moment. Her pride insisted she stay and not duck or worse, run for cover.

Even though the two men had entered the seedy bar together, they now separated in opposite directions so their large bodies honed in on her table, one coming down either side of the room. Many people glanced at them curiously and then far more speculatively back at her. Kyli wondered if she would be helped or hindered if she lost her mind and tried to escape.

The intense, predatory manner of their stalking showed her more clearly than a shouted warning how serious they were. She instinctively knew flight would be useless.

Not that she wanted to flee, yet something deep inside her knew this wouldn’t be a usual reunion. The intensity of their look, the masculinity that came from both of them like shock-waves simultaneously warned and drew women like magnets.

Oddly enough, they seemed to still work perfectly together. They had always been good friends, even back in the wet team. They somehow sensed similarities in each other, and it had bonded them together in a friendship that had never wavered. Or it had never wavered to her knowledge.

With the ease and familiarity these two worked together, she seriously doubted anything had changed between them, friendship wise.

A scantily clad femserver, whom Kyli felt almost positive doubled as an escort after hours, rubbed herself against Max as she dropped another shot of Blue Vodka in front of her. With a delicate eye wiggle the “server” let Max know in no uncertain terms her availability.

“Lucky for me I can afford this now. What number is it?”

“I didn’t order another,” she started grumpily, only to be cut off by Max.

“I ordered a refill for you of whatever you were having. Are you still a threer?” Kyli felt heat enter her face. She honestly couldn’t even remember the last time she had blushed like a virgin.

It was just…the way he had caressed the word threer.

As Max grinned wickedly at her, obviously trying to get a rise out of her, Kyli caught the meaningful, scorching glance shot between the two men. Yet instead Kyli concentrated harder on his words. This had been the second time the boys had placed undue emphasis on the word three.

There had been something in the way Max had spoken, the dark and erotic manner of his words that had heated visions of the three of them writhing in pleasure upon his king-sized bed run scandalously through her mind.