Mars Needs Women

Chapter 10 - You Don't Mess with the Martian Brides

My gut twisted like a spring tornado. The very last thing we needed now was a visit from the Broker. And he brought two mean-looking henchmen with him. I whipped out my com-viewer and typed a hurry-up message to Walt: Help! The Broker is here.

Within a few seconds, he responded: On my way.

Despite the situation, a grin came to me as I visualized the brave sheriff riding to the rescue in like some old western movie. My sheriff. We just had to hold off the Broker for a little while.

"What do we do?" Riya gasped, her eyes wide.

"Walt's on his way back," I answered. "You gals stay out of sight in the kitchen while I talk to him."

The Broker was a big bear of a man, intimidating enough without the viscous snarl on his dark bearded face. He stomped up the porch ramp, leading his two equally unpleasant thugs. Each one wore dark clothes, foul expressions, and packed pistols — all they needed were black cowboy hats to complete the classic western movie villain style. 

Heart racing a million beats per minute, I pulled deep breaths, gathering courage to face this angry low-life, and waited. I only had to keep them occupied for a while until help arrived. Nonetheless, I jumped when the expected door pounding began.

"Open up!" the Broker shouted with a not-friendly voice, banging on the door again.

The houses built by the Mars planners were sturdy, but the doors were not. A big man like the Broker could easily kick it in. So, I thought it best to answer and engage him in sparkling conversation.

I cracked open the door and gazed at his twisted face. "Ah, Mr. Broker, how nice of you to visit on this fine sunshiny day--"

With a massive push, the Broker shoved the door open and sent me falling back on my arse. Apparently, he wasn't in the sparkling conversation mood.

Standing over me and pointing a fat finger, he growled, "You've cost me money, Mavis!"

I imagined so. The men who paid big money for a bride, only to have her leave, must be totally pissed off, and they probably wanted their money back.

Jumping up, I crossed my arms and put on a narrow-eyed, defiant expression. But having to look way up into his dark seething eyes, it lost any intimidation effect. "Now, that's just not a nice thing--"

I hacked as the Broker grabbed my skinny throat with a big paw, then turned and shoved me back into the wall by the window, lifting until I was on tiptoes. Why won't he let me finish my sentences? Totally rude. If I had any sense, I would have been scared, but he was just pissing me off.

Coming almost nose-to-nose, the Broker spat, literally, "Where are they?"

Cringing at the flying spittle, I wheezed, "Good God, say it, don't spray it!"

"Find them!" the Broker shouted to his henchmen.

From my prime viewing spot pinned to the wall, I watched them knuckle draggers march across the living room toward the kitchen with clenched fists, kicking a chair out of the way. Icy dread gave me the shivers — my friends were in there.

But my friends had done some scheming of their own.

As the henchmen reached the wide kitchen passageway, Elena appeared. Then she dropped her robe, becoming stark naked with a seductive, pouty expression. The men froze, no doubt gawking. Almost grinning, I knew what the gals were doing.

With warrior-like battle cries, Riya and Amalhi jumped out from hiding spots on both sides of the passageway.

Swinging a heavy skillet, Riya whacked one man upside the head with a loud clank. He stiffened for a second, then wilted to the floor.