She’s a suspect. He’s undercover. Their chemistry could blow the mission.

Hyna Blue is a cyber-enhanced narcotics officer posing as a drifter in Polaris—a gritty boomtown fueled by trainum mining and crawling with shape-shifting alien smugglers. His mission? Infiltrate the criminal underworld. His complication? Gem, the fiery innkeeper with trust issues and a bar full of secrets.

She thinks he’s just another drunk with nowhere to go.

Gem tells herself it’s pity. But Blue’s wild black hair, indigo eyes, and dangerous charm make it hard to keep her distance. As crime surges and passions ignite, their slow-burn attraction threatens to derail everything.

Can Blue stay focused on the case—or will he fall for the one woman who could blow his cover?

A steamy (but not explicit) space romance packed with undercover intrigue, alien shapeshifters, and slow-burn suspense. Perfect for fans of interstellar love stories, sci-fi thrillers, and alpha heroes with secrets.

Readers are saying:

“The plot sizzles! A great read.”
“Drug kingpins, narc officer & sizzling intrigue in space!”
“I love Blue! I loved his character from the first moment he entered the book until the last page was turned!  I enjoyed the book so much I went searching for the next book! This is a book that I would recommend to all my friends regardless their feel for space books. I was able to relate to the characters, enjoyed the suspense, and thrills along the way.”
“Blue, Azor, Gem what lovely characters you have created within this series....I will continue to follow along with each book! Absolutely loved it! Highly recommended.”
“We should all have a man like that! This was an awesome whodunit story with an underlying theme of who's next all the way through. Blue was a great character.”
“Excellent read!”
“I would definitely recommend this series. Anyone who likes a bit of interstellar romance, but doesn't like to get too bogged down by the sci-fi should enjoy this book. The storylines were great, characters believable and tangible, and the romance crackled!”

✨Read a Sample now:

 

CHAPTER 1

A Zzel dragon looked in her window. Gem Harrisdaughter screamed as the huge reptilian eye blinked and focused on her with malevolent intent, knowing she was going to die. Then she heard a snort. The huge native reptile was laughing.

Gem snarled, stalked to the kitchen door and ripped it open. “All right, who wants to die?”

The neighbor’s punk son Bijo and his green-haired Kiuyian buddy pelted out of the scrub-covered side lot, laughing like miners on a drunken spree. Dressed in shabby jackets, with their hair shaved like wannabe rock stars, the pair had been bugging her with pranks since she’d told their fathers she’d seen them ditching class. It wouldn’t have been her concern, but they’d been doing it on her property and had nearly gotten into a brawl with some customers.

The Kiuyian boy tripped over his big feet and crashed into a thorny bush. He yelped and jumped out.

Gem smirked. Served him right for pulling his shape-changing pranks on her. He’d be picking thorns out of his hide for the next half hour. Perhaps she should plant a few carnivorous bushes out there while she was at it, or simply let whatever grew naturally flourish. They had already removed enough dangerous indigenous species from the struggling garden to form an entire hedge.

She watched the kid dust himself off. Gem didn’t mind Kiuyians in general, but they could get up to serious trouble with their shape-changing abilities. The talent had helped them survive on their hostile home world until they’d learned enough to colonize other planets. Fortunately, only a few Kiuyians could copy other human faces; otherwise, she’d have a bar full of underage drinkers. Mostly they stuck with animal forms or humanoid/animal crosses.

There’d been an influx of Kiuyians to Polaris in the last seven years. Most of them were dirt poor, brought in as cheap labor to work the mines. Gem still hadn’t made up her mind about the aliens as a group. Sometimes they came in as customers, and those who spent money behaved…for the most part. There had once been a drunk who changed into a three-headed serpent and puked all over the floor. She’d had the sot working odd jobs ever since, to help pay off the damages.

She reached for the thick wooden door, letting herself back into the spacious kitchen of The Spark.

Like the Kiuyians, Gem’s family had come to Polaris for the mines. Unlike the Kiuyians, Gem’s father had decided that building a business to cater to the miners was more profitable than grubbing around with the ore. Her father, Airk Harris, had homesteaded their land and built this inn on it. Until his death last year, he’d called the inn a work in progress, and it showed. The fortress-like building was still mostly unpainted. Both interior and exterior walls were striped with layers resembling sandstone, a result of the pouring process of construction. It was a mark of the inn’s cheap, if sturdy, materials; more expensive buildings on Polaris were one color and often glossy.

Gem liked the stripes. The look was earthy and unpretentious, much like her family.

The tables were inexpensive anti-gravity tiles that doubled as screens. The menu and drink list appeared in several languages on the surfaces, allowing guests to touch-select their orders. The orders were beamed directly to the bar and kitchen, streamlining service.

Well, it usually streamlined service, assuming the servers weren’t flirting with the customers. Gem had a terrible time keeping the girls who worked for her from turning the place into a brothel. There was one incident last year…

It was hard to find good help.

Polaris was a very reserved community, and it was vital for the family to maintain their reputation, both in business and personally, if they wanted to succeed. Those who didn’t toe the line were ostracized. A business run by three sisters could easily be ruined. While modestly profitable, they constantly scrambled to find ways to increase their income. They couldn’t afford any trouble.

The anti-gravity tiles could be used as lighting, lined up to form banquet tables or stacked against the wall if she wanted to turn the bar and dining area into a dance hall. The inn had a private room that doubled as a family dining room and parlor, but most of the time Gem and her sisters just ate in the kitchen. They charged extra for guests who wanted the private room.

The floor was actual sandstone, polished to a high sheen. A couple of robotic cleaners the size of dinner plates zipped around like miniature flying saucers, sucking up dirt and vaporizing sticky spills. Occasionally they’d zoom over to the incinerator hidden behind the bar and eject a stream of waste before going back for more.

The inn had one type of all-occasion, oversize mug used for its soups, drinks and desserts, and one size of plate; all were formed of self-cleaning glasstic. If a food type needed a knife, it wasn’t served, which was okay, as most guests were happy using spoons or their hands.

Gem’s father had had big dreams. He’d once considered naming the inn after himself, but since he had no sons and his unmarried daughters were properly addressed as Harrisdaughter, he’d settled on The Spark. He’d promised his still young family that it would be the starting point for any and all business on the newly colonized planet of Polaris. Now that he’d died, it belonged to his daughters.

As she surveyed the room, Gem took in a table that was a little too raucous and grimaced. A woman was holding court with a table full of rough miners. Too much longer and there’d be trouble. She’d have to deal with the situation before it got out of hand.

They were in an odd position for three single women. They’d inherited the inn, of course, and their father had been well-liked, but if they weren’t careful, respectable customers would shun them, and they’d be forced to accept seedier clientele if they wanted to survive. She didn’t want to see her father’s memory dishonored that way. Although he’d come from a planet with more relaxed standards, Airk had chosen to settle here. It was a good place to raise a family, and he’d taught his daughters to respect the culture.

Gem didn’t really mind. She didn’t want the uncertainty of a casual relationship. She had a business to run, and didn’t have time to fritter away on emotional upheaval and broken hearts. She’d seen enough of her customers drowning their sorrows in liquor to give her a distaste for the dramas of the lovelorn.

Before Gem could intercept the hooker and send her packing, her sister Brandy came up from the cellar toting a small keg. She glanced at Gem with her mismatched blue and brown eyes as she walked toward the bar. “We’ve got rodents in the tubers again. I set traps. Rissa’s in the taproom, and those miners are at it early today.”

Gem was already heading for the L-shaped hall that separated the rooms. “I see her. Why didn’t you deal with it? You can knock heads just as easily. You have the red hair.”

“It’s nearly brown.” This was Brandy’s standard response to the old argument. “You have a better touch than me. Quit whining.”

It was mid-morning, but the taproom was already half full, thanks to the new trainum mine that had been found. The blue ore was a crucial ingredient in the starship fuel used by the Galactic Explorers, the corporation famous for exploring (some said exploiting) most of the newly discovered planets in the last thirty years. Of course, most of the ships in the Interplanetary Council’s jurisdiction relied on the energy-rich mineral as well. Any new discoveries were a boon to the local economy, and the recent claim was causing a huge influx of visitors, the side effects of which were not all pleasant. A case in point was this brazen chit perched on a miner’s lap.

Gem pointed to the hooker, Rissa. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “You, get out. We’re not running a brothel.”

Rissa pouted her full green lips and leaned over to whisper in the miner’s ear. Her wildly curling green hair slipped forward over her chest, doing a better job of covering her than her low-cut dress. She knew better than to cross Gem, though. She didn’t linger.

As the hooker slunk off, the miner protested, “Hey! We were just having a little fun. Lighten up, cutie.” His skin was tinged blue with dust from the ore he worked, and he and his two buddies exuded an unwholesome aura.

Before the man’s mind could travel farther down a road she didn’t like, Gem warned him, “I’m the owner of this inn, and I have the best drinks in town. If you ever want another drop of alcohol here, mind your manners and don’t hassle me or my help. I won’t hesitate to have you blacklisted.” She paused for a moment to let her threat sink in, and walked off.

She hated dealing with riffraff, but that was part of being the owner, and her father made certain she knew how to do all aspects of the job. It had gotten harder lately. The lunar mines had turned Polaris into a boomtown, and the influx of transients was mostly male. Women like Rissa were in demand, and growing bolder about plying their trade. Once a place got a rep for tolerating hookers, it was hard to clean up. The Spark didn’t need that kind of attention. If Gem and her sisters wanted to remain respectable businesswomen, they had to stay vigilant.

Polaris was a gas planet. “Planet” was a bit of a misnomer, actually, considering the areas where people lived. All the inhabitable land masses were made up of huge orbiting chunks of rock, floating islands formed from asteroids that had been pulled into orbit around the planet’s core. The atmosphere here was breathable, a belt of air comfortable for most life forms. While there was no sea, colonists had mined ice from the moons and formed lakes in available craters. They’d filled those lakes with fish and sea life. Water was valued and carefully recycled; hauling in more from the moons to form new reservoirs cost money.

Colonist farmers had used that original shipment of ice to turn the barren surface of their asteroids into islands of lush growth, gradually adding small livestock as grasses took root and flourished. Each asteroid had an electric bio-dome over it to keep the precious water vapor inside. Individual climates ranged from hot and humid to warm and arid, depending on the crop grown. Land that was not farmed was residential, commercial or used for mining trainum, platinum or gold. Entrepreneurs were getting rich from the influx of new business, but increasing lawlessness meant they also paid for it. Polaris was an exciting, if dangerous, place to be.

Gem was joint owner of The Spark with her two sisters, but as the eldest, she was in charge. She had the temperament to deal with trouble, manage the kitchens, the taproom and their accounts; and it was a good thing, too, because in addition to the inn, they had two rental cabins and a huge garden to oversee. Polaris had only been settled for forty years and its farming industry occasionally struggled. Anyone who wanted variety and independence grew their own produce and spices. Only the very wealthy purchased off-world food, because shipping prices were insane.

Gem and her family worked hard and their business thrived, catering to whoever arrived at the nearby spaceport and appreciated good food and excellent brews, whether they were locals or passing through. The Spark brewmaster was so good that Gem had recently made arrangements to export some of his goods; for a share of the profit, of course. She was always keeping an eye on the family business.

“Gem!” Her sister Xera stomped down the stairs, a fistful of wadded linens in her hands, her short, black curls bouncing. “That stupid Guok you rented to last night threw up in the bedding! I told you he was drunk.” Xera had a temper to match her Amazonian build. She probably would have chewed out the hapless alien if he hadn’t already fled.

Gem leaned back as she got a whiff of the offending sheets. Guoks were flabby white bipeds that looked like walking sacks of jelly. Gem knew little of the aliens, though she’d heard they were usually harmless. Now she knew they had vomit to rival sewer sludge. Lesson learned.

Eyes watering, she waved her sister off. “So, go toss them in the wash. What do you want me to do, hunt him down and shoot him?” The Spark had forty rooms, and Xera and her maids were in charge of cleaning them. The trouble was, Xera wanted out of the job.

“The puke ate through the sheets! We’ll be lucky to salvage the mattress.” Xera handed the sheets to a passing maid and followed Gem’s retreat into the kitchens. The cooks were busy preparing the noon meal. Hungry, Gem helped herself to some seafood salad and tried to avoid her sister by heading for the office.

“Don’t think you’re going to dodge me,” Xera called out, following her inside and shutting the door. “I’m twenty years old, Gem, old enough to know I don’t want to be head housekeeper anymore.”

Gem sat behind her battered desk and crossed her feet on top of it. She was twenty-five, herself, and still had no idea what she’d rather be doing. Why should Xera want to change all of a sudden? All she’d done for the past two months was whine. “You know we need you,” Gem tried to explain.

“I want to be a pilot for the Galactic Explorers,” Xera replied.

“No, you don’t.”

“Gem!”

Gem groaned. They had a rule about disparaging each other’s dreams. “Okay, I’m sorry. Go on.” She waved weakly, disgruntled by the idea of replacing her sister, concerned that Xera was going away where she couldn’t have tabs kept on her. Since their father died, keeping tabs had been Gem’s job, but her sisters were growing up.

“I already have my private pilot license. I’ve been shuttling between the islands every chance I get. I’m ready for deep space now. I talked to the recruiter…He can get me off-world next week.”

Gem’s face darkened. She didn’t like to be reminded of how often Xera fled their asteroid island to go exploring. It was dangerous. There were too many claim wars to go rambling around alone. And now she was planning to go even farther away?

Xera forged ahead. “I’ve trained Rosa. She’s capable and very eager to get the raise.”

Gem looked around at the walls, which were painted a restful white-sage, and sighed. The office doubled as a sitting room, with a few well-worn and overstuffed chairs and a long, padded bench that provided space to crash if anyone needed a place to sleep. The bow window behind them looked out over the garden. It was open at the moment, and wisps of flower-scented air stirred the linen curtains. How many times had she stared into the fireplace, watched the flames burn as she dreamed of the future? She and her sisters had spent many evenings here, talking, fighting, laughing. They were her family, but now everything was changing.

She focused on her sister’s face. “Are you sure, Xera? You’ll end up a long way from home for a long time to come.”

Xera snorted. “I’ve only talked about it since I was sixteen. The flying lessons, the weapons training…You knew where all that was leading!”

“I’d hoped you’d change your mind,” Gem admitted.

“I haven’t.”

Gem blew out a breath of air. “Okay. Let’s look at what you need to do to get your affairs in order. You said a week?”

Xera looked surprised, then grinned.

So Gem helped the first of her sisters prepare to leave home, spending the next hour with Xera, going over her plans and finding no flaws. It was hardly surprising, she realized; of her two sisters, Xera was the more level headed.

It was late that day when Gem finally wandered down to the taproom. There were a few regulars, but the place had quieted. Her bartender was there, polishing glasses, so she wandered over and took a stool. “Hey, Jaq. Where are the guests?”

The elderly man raised bushy white eyebrows. “Races today. Forget?” In his late sixties, Jaq had a head that was bald as an egg, yet he still managed to grow an impressive handlebar mustache.

The races. Of course. The Simian-Goat Runs were held once a week. Lemur monkeys were trained to ride goats. Clinging to miniature saddles, the monkeys would burst out of starting gates, whipping their goats to high speeds with riding crops. It was funnier than a squirrel drinking whiskey, and drew huge crowds. Bigger crowds than simple alcohol, at least.

Gem pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, leaning her elbow on the chrome anti-gravity slab that served as the bar. “Long day.”

“It’s not even the dinner shift, yet.” The bar didn’t close until much later.

“It ought to be.” In no mood to do her usual work, she looked around and spotted one of The Spark’s regulars. In the corner beyond the fire, he leaned back in his chair and watched her with eyes that were probably already bloodshot, given the way he usually looked.

She turned to Jaq. “How many’s he had today?”

The bartender glanced at the corner, then filled two mugs with hot spiced Poizi berry juice. “One. I told you he’s not a drunk.”

Gem raised a sardonic eyebrow and collected the mugs. “Weaves when he walks, eyes always bloodshot…He might only order one or two in here, but he’s drinking more elsewhere.”

“If you’re so sure he’s a drunk, why serve him?” Jaq asked. He gave her a knowing look.

“Shut up,” she replied, amused, then took over the drinks.

Hyna Blue gave her a crooked smile as she approached, squinting up at her through his wild black hair. “Hello, Blue-eyes. Come to save me today?”

She ignored his flirting and put the mugs on the table. “Have something that won’t bite you back, Hyna.”

“I told you to call me Blue. I’ve never gone by my first name. Makes me think you’re talking to my uncle.” He considered her through indigo eyes as dark as hers were light. “You know, we’d make beautiful babies together. Just think; they’d all have blue eyes and your good looks.”

“Sober up and ask me again,” she said, ignoring what his words did to her pulse. She was average-looking, with dark hair and a medium build. In spite of his habitual slouch, she’d seen him stand straight a time or two, and he was a big man. Maybe he did hard labor somewhere, because anyone who sat around like he did should have had a paunch. Hyna didn’t.

There was something alluring about his ruined beauty, though the drunken stagger tended to tarnish the shine. He’d been coming into The Spark every day for two months now, ordering one drink and nursing it for hours. Nobody knew where he lived, or even if he had a home.

He smirked. “Would you say yes?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then there’s no point in putting myself through the torture, is there?” He glanced at the glass of juice she offered and shook his head. “Why do you always bring this hot? It’s just not normal.” As he looked at the liquid, his eyes turned winter-gray. One touch, and the drink frosted over.

“I just like to watch you cool it off,” she said, watching his cybernetic implants work. It was kind of sad; they gave him super strength and control over temperatures, but it meant he’d lost his arm somewhere. His eyes, too. She wondered if they’d been blue before the surgery. Using his cooling ability was a lot like waving a wooden leg around, advertising his disability. Maybe that was why she had a soft spot for him.

He took a swallow from his original glass and savored it. “You do serve the best liquor in town. And the beer you guys brew…You sure you’re not bootlegging it?”

She sighed. He always asked her that. “We distill it right here, and yes, we pay our taxes. Why, do you want a tour of our distillery?” She grimaced at her tone. Intolerance and snark were no way to reach a lost soul.

“Sure,” he said with relaxed interest. “I always wanted to be a brewmaster. Missed my calling.”

She regarded him skeptically. If he’d wanted to be a brewmaster, he’d have asked to see the brewery, not the distillery. A master distiller produced liquor. If he’d wanted to be one, he should have at least known the proper term. Of course, both facilities were housed in the same room here, and their brew master was also the distiller; but Blue might not realize that. “What do you do now, other than haunt my place?”

He wagged a finger. “You’re trying to distract me. You don’t want to give me the tour.”

She didn’t. Talking to him in the bar was one thing; inviting him physically into any part of her life was another. And yet she found herself saying, “You don’t have a job, do you? Do you want one?”

Those dark eyes actually looked surprised. “You want to hire me?”

Disinterest seemed the best way to achieve her goal. “You smell. If you’re going to work for me, you need to shower, shave more than once a week and show up in clean clothes.”

“Ouch! So much for the angel-of-mercy disguise. What if I don’t have another pair of clothes?”

“Don’t you?” she asked without blinking. She’d suspected something of the sort.

He took a meditative drink. “I suppose I could steal some.”

“Do, and you’ll not step foot on my property again.”

He looked down, not quite hiding a grin. “Now that’s serious.”
She blew out a breath. “I could advance you a set of clothes against your first week’s pay. We need an extra hand to see to some chores that slip through the cracks. There’s gardening, some handiwork, help around the kitchens…whatever’s needed.”

He blinked at her. “Are you going to buy me underwear, too? I need them extra roomy in front, you know.”

A blush caught her by surprise. Embarrassed that he’d thrown her good intentions in her face, she stood.

He stopped her with a light touch to the hand. Surprised, she looked at him. “I’ll take the job,” he said. There might even have been an apology in his eyes.

Mollified, she nodded. “Tomorrow. Show up sober or the deal’s off.”

She’d only taken two steps before trouble came her way in the guise of a redheaded storm. Brandy planted herself in front of Gem and growled, “What’s this I hear about you letting Xera run off to join the Galactic Explorers?”

The coals of a headache had been lurking in Gem’s head all day; they now flared to crackling life. “She’s of age, and she’s worked toward it for years.”

Her sister’s eyes flashed. “I don’t care if she’s a hundred! You know what the death rate is among their crews. Two ships disappeared this year alone, and nobody knows what happened to them. That’s not including attacks by pirates, mechanical failures, bloody alien plagues…You’re mad to let her go!”

Gem bent her head and massaged the back of her neck, letting her short, straight hair cover part of her face. Why did Brandy always have to rake her over the coals at the times she was feeling most worried? “Do you have some way to stop her?”

Her sister started tidying a table, working off her anxiety. “She won’t listen to me. She said you helped her with the paperwork! You’ve always overindulged her.”

“That’s not fair,” Gem said quietly. Brandy could be nasty when nervous, but she usually had a sense of justice. Already Gem could see her start to feel remorse.

Conscious of the interested ears at her back, Gem took the opportunity to formally introduce Blue to her sister as newly hired help. Brandy stared at him, then looked at Gem as if she’d lost her mind. She threw her towel down on the table and walked off muttering, “She’s lost it. Lost it!”

“She likes me,” Blue said, and polished off his drink.

Gem’s day did not get better. The inn filled back up that evening with loud guests celebrating or bemoaning their wins and losses at the Simian Runs. Jaq and his girls were on alert, ready to deal with anyone who got out of hand.

Anyone who had too much to drink was cut off. This had started as Gem’s father’s policy and remained hers. To prevent drunken protests, the policy was posted at each table along with the drink list, and carved in a sign above the bar. In spite of this, there were still a few belligerent drunks who thought they could intimidate an old man into giving them more. It was times like that when Jaq’s military training saved the day. He might be of advanced years, but he was deadly. The inn wouldn’t be what it was if not for him.

Gem had retreated to her office and was trying to focus on accounts when the fire alarm went off. Her pen left a streak on her document as she jumped up. She ripped open the door and watched the guests race by, babbling as they went. She waited for an opening then dashed up the stairs, pushing past people who tried to knock her down in their haste to escape.

As she gained the second floor she found the smell of smoke everywhere, but she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Using a master key, she started opening closed doors, going room by room to make sure each of the guests had evacuated. Brandy was at the other end of the hallway, doing the same.

“Empty!” Gem called as they met in the middle. “All empty. The ventilation system must be spreading the smell around. Let’s check upstairs.”

The smoke became visible as they raced up to the third floor, making them cough. Jaq was already there, kicking in doors. Gem winced, but they didn’t have time to be careful. The fire extinguishing system should have turned on by now. It hadn’t, and that worried her.

“Down here!” Jaq called. Smoke billowed out of a door he’d just splintered. Using the fire extinguisher he’d grabbed off the wall, he sprayed all around as he walked in, likely unable to see.

“Jaq, no! The floor!” Xera rushed in from nowhere, armed with her own extinguisher. “You don’t know what it’s going to do.”

Gem shivered at the thought of Jaq crashing through a burning floor, then ran into a different room and grabbed a towel, soaking it in the bathtub. Brandy had found an extinguisher herself and was using it, but the actual blaze wasn’t what Gem was considering. She was worried about the people putting out the fire. If their clothes or hair caught, they could be seriously injured.

Sirens sounded, announcing the volunteer fire department’s appearance; too late, as it turned out. The fire was almost dead by the time the men rushed up the stairs, ready to save the day. Coughing, Gem, her family and Jaq let the new arrivals take over, grateful to retreat downstairs and find cleaner air. Outside, the paramedics checked them over, treating their minor burns while a crowd of neighbors and guests looked on.

Gem sat on the grass and rested her elbows on her knees as she watched the circus unfold around her. It was going to be a late night getting everyone re-settled, and they’d all sleep with the scent of smoke in their noses. Why hadn’t the fire extinguishing system gone off? That room should have been coated with foam before the blaze even got started.

The fire chief had the answer. “It was turned off.”

“Excuse me?” Gem said, unable to believe her ears.

Chief Puyta looked grim. “Someone spread oil on the rug and set it on fire. You’re lucky they didn’t use something faster burning or the damage would be a lot worse. Have you checked your till to make sure nothing is missing?”

Jaq had locked the till in the bar and it was untouched. Gem’s office had been the target. Her petty cash box was missing, and a pile of poop sat squarely on her desk. A fork was stuck in it. The message was pretty clear.

The chief’s almond eyes narrowed. His green hair was graying, but he was still plenty sharp. Tall and usually quiet, the Kiuyian had been a friend of Gem’s father until Gem’s father had passed away.

“Someone has a sick sense of humor,” he said.

Gem’s stomach churned, but she tried to lighten the moment. “Yeah. You know how long it took me to balance that ledger?”

“It’s on the computer,” Brandy snapped, coming forward with a plastic bag. When she was angry, she cleaned.

“Leave it a bit,” the chief ordered. “Let the crime scene techs do their thing. Maybe we can catch the guy who did this.”

Xera cracked her knuckles, her face dark.

Knowing they needed to work off some steam, Gem started giving orders before her family dispersed. “All right, let’s start settling guests. I’m going to talk to the police and find out which rooms they need to look at. Xera, you’re in charge of damage control. Anything that can be done to mollify guests, do it.

“Brandy, find Jaq and tell him to close the bar for the night. Tell the kitchens they’re on light duty and have them air the place on that end.”

Her sisters bolted off to do as they were told. Gem sat at the bar and watched the organized chaos unfold around her, stuck where she was answering questions for the police. No, she had no known enemies, no obvious suspects; though if she were going to put her money on pranksters, she’d consider the neighbor kid, Bijo. She could see him and his buddy pulling a stunt like this. Still, he was a kid and she didn’t like mentioning him to the cops. It was a necessary evil, though. Someone could have been hurt. If it was Bijo, he needed a wake-up call.

Mentioning his name didn’t stop the flow of questions, though. They kept coming, adding stress to an already tense situation.

Brandy brought a pot of herbal tea, earning herself a grateful smile. Gem’s sister had managed to wash her face, which only reminded Gem of the soot coating her own. The moment she could slip away, she washed up, watching the grime twirl down the drain, just like her evening.

Ah, well. No doubt tomorrow would be better.