Ka'Cit's Haven (Riv’s Sanctuary #3)

Ka’Cit growled and the merchant almost dropped the utensil he was pretending to dry. “What makes you think I want a new drink?”

The merchant trembled even more. “B—because…well, you haven’t touched that one and you’ve been sitting here for quite…some…time?” The last words came out in a trembling voice, and the merchant’s eyes darted across the street to another merchant. When Ka’Cit glanced behind him, he saw the other merchant duck behind his stall before the shutters slowly closed.

Ka’Cit glanced back at the merchant in front of him. “Do you have a problem with that?”

The merchant began shaking his head so hard his antennae wobbled.

“Good. Then we don’t have a problem.”

Ka’Cit stared at the drink.

He wasn’t going to drink it.

Even if he was thirsty, he wouldn’t have removed his mask to quench his thirst.

He never took his mask off around people he didn’t trust and especially not in public.

He’d simply bought the drink so he’d have something to do other than stare at the counter while he waited for time to pass.

He had a job to do later. Information to collect. Maybe a few arms to break. You never knew with these things.

At that thought, his gaze darted to the group of Niftrills at the food stall farther down on the street below.

They were moving now, having finished their drink.

It was go time.

They had no idea he was on their tail. Earlier, when he’d bumped into one of them, he’d put a tracker and listening device on the Niftrill’s coat.

It was simply so could hear everything they were saying—not that he expected to get what he wanted that way.

It was never that easy.

“If everything is okay, Bone Crusher,” the merchant interrupted his thoughts once again, “I would like to close the stall. I, um, have, um, business to attend to?”

Was that a question?

Ka’Cit’s eyes narrowed to slits.

Bone Crusher.

He hated that name.

He didn’t crush bones…he merely broke them.

There was a difference…really, there was.

But this wasn’t a time to get into conversation with some random merchant. He was on a job.

His gaze slid back to the moving Niftrills and his head cocked to the side a little as he watched them move.

In the sea that was the many beings at the Exchange, the Niftrills walked as a singular unit. In the listening device in his ear, he could hear they were chattering about nothing in particular.

There were about twenty of them, and only one had the information he needed.

Getting that information, though…that was going to prove difficult. He doubted the one he needed was going to randomly blurt out what he was seeking to hear.

Niftrills were a pack species. They lived in large groups, worked in large groups, and were vicious when one of them was threatened.