She’d been kissed before, but only twice. Neither experience had been anything to get excited about. But this time, her heart raced, her breathing getting quicker, and he hadn’t even touched her beyond holding her hand.
Then his lips were on hers, firm and warm. Tingles spread down her neck and chest, making her nipples pucker. Her toes curled in her short leather boots.
He lifted his head and released her hand. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Wits scattered, all she could do was nod. He didn’t seem nearly as affected as her. And why would he? It was a simple kiss—fleeting and innocent—no different than one might share with a friend or relative. There was no real passion. Then why was she sweating?
Pull yourself together.
Determined to get back on equal footing, she called after him, “It would be easier if I knew who you were looking for.”
His gaze sharpened and there was a new alertness about him. “A man named Helldrick.”
It felt as though all the blood drained from her face. It shouldn’t come as such a shock, considering the way this day had gone. Did he know? Was that why he’d hired her?
Giving a curt nod, she walked away. As soon as she was out of sight, she broke into a run.
Chapter Three
Zaxe watched Jamaeh until she was out of sight, fighting the urge to go after her. She was Helldrick’s daughter. He knew it in his gut. Her hair and eyes were very distinctive, and the expression on her face when she’d heard the name was all the confirmation he needed.
“By the god Melton and his fiery hell,” he muttered. Melton was the god of the Zaxian version of Hell, and in this particular case, it seemed as though he’d fallen right into it. He took his communicator out of his pocket and pulled up the pictures he’d taken while he’d been on the rooftops following her. He had several excellent shots of her face.
It wouldn’t take him long to uncover all her secrets. He ignored the slight clutch in his gut. Information often meant the difference between success and failure. And he never failed.
A hush had fallen over the city, everyone retired inside for the next two or three hours. A few people shuffled along the street. Probably on their way home.
Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, Zaxe made his way toward the docking station. He kept the pace steady. Hurrying might attract attention, and he’d already garnered too much of that as it was.
You are your father’s son. The vendor’s words whispered in his ear. Zaxe clenched his back teeth and kept his attention on his surroundings as he left the more populated area of the city and reached the outskirts. He was alone, but it paid to stay alert.
The docking station loomed in the distance. The heat was stifling and sweat beaded on his face, his shirt sticking to his body. The corners of his mouth turned up. A sense of well-being, of place filled him.
The cool interior of the station was a shock to the system. He shivered and hastened his step. His ship was the best Alliance vessel money could buy. Gravasian tech was better, but they wouldn’t risk it falling into the hands of other cultures. And they’d never trust a non-Gravasian with any.
His lip curled slightly as he pressed his hand against the security panel located on the hull by the loading bay. It scanned his palm and fingers. The light turned green and a section slid away, displaying a keyboard. He punched in the twelve-digit code and the door silently opened.
“Computer, full security on,” he ordered as soon as he stepped on board.
“Security on,” the mechanical voice confirmed.
Zaxe leaned against the wall and rubbed his hand over his face. He needed a shower and food. His stomach growled in agreement, reminding him he hadn’t finished the harira he’d purchased in the market.
Did Delphi remember their past? Or like him, had she shoved it aside, forgotten it because it was too painful?
Pushing away from the wall, he strode to his cabin, stripped off his clothes, and padded into the bathing chamber. He ignored the gel cleansing unit in favor of the mirror over the small sink. Positioning himself so his back was visible in the glass, he looked over his shoulder. The birthmark covered his left shoulder. It was lighter than the rest of his skin so it stood out prominently. It was actually a series of small circles that formed a spiral.
Do you wear the mark of the Zaxurus family? The vendor’s question echoed in his ears. When he hadn’t replied, the old man had continued, “The light spiral is the sign of the males in your family.”
He reached over his shoulder and stroked his fingers over the mark. “My father was Dagmar Zaxurus.” Saying it aloud made it real. His throat tightened. He dropped his hand, stepped into the gel cleansing unit, and shut the door. The unit came on automatically.
He leaned his hands against the slick wall of the unit and bowed his head as it sprayed a cleansing mist on him, followed by a blast of heat. The cycle was short and efficient. The drying light came on, changing from red to green when it was done.
“Be careful, son of Dagmar. There are those who would not be happy to see you have survived.” The warning had been given as he’d left, and it was a wise one.
After pulling on clothes, which included a battlesuit—a lightweight suit of protective body armor—he headed to the control room to do his daily check-in. “Computer, pull up all communications.” He slid into the captain’s chair, rested his elbows on the arms, and steepled his fingers together.
“No communications.”
“Contact King Agman of Gravas.” Not many people had a direct line to the king of the most powerful planet in the known galaxies.
An image appeared on the screen before him. The man was in his sixties, his hair and beard laced with gray, but he was an imposing figure, a warrior to his core. “Report.”
The brisk tone was expected. This was not a man to waste time with niceties. “Made my first foray into the market. I’ve lined up a guide.”
The king’s eyebrows rose. “A guide?”
“There was an incident with some locals. A woman intervened.”
King Agman frowned but said nothing. Like any warrior, he knew the value of silence.
“Her skin is paler than most Zaxians.”
Again, the king waited.
“Yet she is a native, born and raised. Her hair is unusual too, a mixture of black and red. Her eyes are green.”
“Helldrick’s daughter? The man has another family there. Makes sense why he’d run to Zaxus now that his home on Mortis is no longer safe.” He sat forward in his chair and shook his head. “You’re either blessed by the gods or this is a setup.”
“Not sure how or why it would be a setup, but I’m being careful. I told her who I was searching for.”
“Is that wise?”
He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But if he treated her like he did his daughters on Mortis, it might make her more inclined to help. Either way, I’ll find him.”
“If she warns him, he may flee.”
“Doesn’t matter where he goes, I’ll find him. In the meantime, I’ll be digging into the daughter’s past. I’m scheduled to meet her this evening.”
“Keep me informed.” The screen went blank.
“I’ll do that,” he muttered. “Computer search for all information on Jamaeh, native of the city of Badwa on the planet Zaxus. Last name unknown.” He uploaded the image he’d captured of her earlier.
He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, exhaustion weighing on him. He’d been chasing Helldrick for weeks, tracking down all leads. He was so close.
And then what?
What happened when his job was done? He’d have his freedom for the first time in his life and all the money he needed. The plan had always been for him and his sisters to find a planet to settle on and live a simpler life. They’d talked about having their own business, maybe a bar.
But Delphi was married to a prince of Gravas. And in an odd stroke of fate, his adopted sister, Sass, had also married one of the king’s sons. Both his s
isters were now royalty. One corner of his mouth twitched. Delphi and Sass were trained assassins, not pampered aristocrats. Though in all honesty, neither were the king’s sons. Sass’s husband was an elite assassin. Delphi’s man wasn’t quite as skilled as his brother but he was a formidable warrior.
Life sometimes took strange twists and turns. Like his had today. His father was Dagmar Zaxurus, ruler of the Northern Territory of Zaxus. Or he had been before he’d been assassinated while visiting another planet on a trip that had been both a diplomatic mission and a family holiday.
The computer beeped. Zaxe’s eyes shot open. Information began to fill the screen.
“Jamaeh, age twenty-four. Last name Jerman for her mother Zahra Jerman, deceased six years ago. Brother Esau Jerman, age eighteen, raised by his sister after their mother’s passing. Father unlisted.”
“Of course, he is.” Helldrick wasn’t exactly father-of-the-year material. So Jamaeh had been responsible for her brother since she was eighteen and he was twelve. Quite a responsibility.
“Occupation listed as trader—on-planet operation.”
“Save report.” He’d read the rest later before he met with her again. And if she decided not to show, he had an address where he could find her. “Begin new search on Zaxus for information on Helldrick.” He might have a business here. Not likely, but Zaxe was always thorough.
A comfortable bed waited not far away, but he closed his eyes. An image of Jamaeh immediately filled his mind. She truly was beautiful. Her height and unusual coloring made her stand out among the local women. Her cheekbones were high, her chin slightly pointed, and the corners of her eyes tilted up slightly, giving her an exotic appearance. But it was her willingness to step up and take on the care of a younger brother when the need arose, carving a career in a city where she’d be treated as second-class due to her mixed heritage and lack of family ties that impressed him even more. Like many cultures, Zaxians were not always so accepting of those outside their own race. Life could not have been easy for her, yet she’d stepped in to help him today.
He raised his fingers and skimmed them along his lips. She’d tasted of mint and sweet like honey. The brief taste hadn’t been enough. His dick flexed in agreement.
Would she meet him later or would she run? He couldn’t wait to find out.
****
Jamaeh crouched by the side of a building, her vantage point giving her a clear view of the fountain. Would he show? She’d spent the afternoon tracking down those in the neighborhood around her brother’s age. None of them knew where he had gone. They weren’t lying. Most of them were a little afraid of her, and she’d used that to her advantage.
Tapping her regular sources hadn’t worked either. No one in their quarter of the city had seen where he’d gone or who he’d left with. It was as though he’d vanished.
She scrubbed her dry eyes, wishing she’d been able to take a short nap. Sleep had been in short supply of late. Several of the older women in their neighborhood had advised her to let Esau go. “He is almost a man and must find his own way.” All fine and good for them to say, but she had no one else. And neither did Esau. No matter what he might momentarily believe.
At some point, Helldrick would let him down or abandon him. She had to be there to catch him when it happened. It was a promise she’d made to their mother. And unlike her father, Jamaeh kept her word.
The square was bustling, mostly with men this time of evening. Groups of them shared street food, talked of business and politics and family matters. The women were home or in restaurants with family or friends. It wasn’t always safe for a woman to be out alone once the sun went down.
It hadn’t always been that way from what her mother had told her. Things had changed when the former king’s brother had inherited control of the territory. Didn’t matter to her either way. Given her heritage, life was always going to be a challenge. As a male, Esau had more options open to him. She intended to make sure he had the chance to use them.
There was no sound behind her, but a subtle shift in the air had her spinning around. She led with her fist, but it was caught by a much larger hand and held easily.
Humor twinkled in Zaxe’s dark-brown eyes. “That’s quite a greeting.” He gave a gentle squeeze before releasing her.
“You should know better than to sneak up behind someone.”
“What are we looking at?” He peered around her shoulder at the market.
“Nothing. I mean, I was watching for you.” Gods, she routinely bargained with shrewd merchants over the prices of cloth, spices, and other goods. She had more experience dealing with the opposite sex than most women ever would. She saw the sides of them most kept hidden from their families—hard, ruthless, and cunning. Yet this man had her tripping over her tongue like some young girl. It wasn’t to be borne.
“Why do you want to find Helldrick?” The question had been nagging her. She’d changed her mind about coming here a dozen times. In the end, it had boiled down to one thing. They both wanted to find the same man and Zaxe could go places she couldn’t on her own. He also seemed to have an unlimited supply of resources. Better to use his than deplete her own meager savings.
“I have business with him.” His tone didn’t invite further inquiry. The sense of disappointment that swamped her made no sense. If he didn’t have business with him, Zaxe wouldn’t need to find the man. Having him confirm he was an associate of Helldrick left her feeling as though she’d lost something.
Ridiculous.
“Let’s go.” She straightened and made sure her hood was covering her face. Her height and the fact she dressed like a male helped her pass unhindered in the streets.
Before she took a step, he wrapped his hand around her upper arm. “Why are you helping me?”
“Money.” The word was as cold as her heart felt. She yanked her arm away and walked away. He could keep up or get left behind. She’d already been paid. Still, relief flashed through her when he fell into step beside her.
It had nothing to do with the man and everything to do with not being alone on the streets. Or at least that was what she tried to tell herself.
Like her, Zaxe had his hood up, obscuring most of his face. They moved easily around the jovial groups of men enjoying the balmy evening, the three couples out for an evening of fun. The men had a protective arm around their women. No one had ever protected her. Not even her mother had tried. Not really. “You have to face reality,” had been her mother’s often spoken refrain.
Reality sucked.
Casting one last envious eye on the gorgeous dresses the women wore, she turned down a side street. “There’s a coffeehouse not far from here.”
Zaxe had been silent since they’d started walking. “Not where I’d expect to find Helldrick.”
She gave a snort. “You’ve got that right. We don’t have bars, not like I’m told they do on other planets. Here we have coffeehouses. Many have backrooms.”
“Ah.” That was it. He asked no more questions, a silent shadow beside her. He made no sound as he moved. She couldn’t even hear his breathing. It was beginning to freak her out.
She rolled her shoulders, trying to relax the tense muscles. He’s paying you to guide him. That’s it. And if he’s tied up with Helldrick, you don’t want anything to do with him.
Logical advice. Sound advice. Too bad she couldn’t stop sneaking glances, even though his hood obscured his face. When her lips tingled, she resisted the urge to touch them. Some instinct warned that this was a man who missed nothing. Last thing she wanted was for him to think their earlier kiss had meant anything to her.
Light spilled out the front windows of the coffeehouse, the lanterns giving a welcome glow. Having been here several times before, Jamaeh pushed aside the curtained entrance and stepped inside. Male voices rose and fell in conversation. The rich scents of coffee and tea and sweet treats filled her nostrils, along with the more pungent scent from the pipes some of them smoked. There was a smattering of w
omen, the wives or girlfriends of the men. This was a respectable establishment.
At least the front part was.
Snaking around the tables, she unerringly made her way to a heavy wooden door at the back. A large male stood before it, his arms crossed.
“I need to see Reman.”
The guard glanced at Zaxe before glaring at her. “He is not seeing visitors.”
It was the same song and dance every time she came, but she’d been haggling in the markets since she could talk. She shook her head and made a tsking sound. “That’s too bad. I have a client in need of information. Guess I’ll have to go elsewhere for it.”
The interaction with the guard was no surprise. It was his job to weed out the curiosity seekers from those who had real business with his boss. What was surprising was that Zaxe stayed silent, allowing her to handle the situation.
In her experience, that was very unusual. Most men would have felt the need to assert themselves into the discussion.
“Who’s your friend?” The guard nudged his head toward Zaxe.
“Since Reman can’t help me, you don’t need to know.” She smiled sweetly, knowing it would annoy the man.
He huffed out a breath. “Wait here.” He stepped through the door, closing it in her face.
Zaxe leaned closer to her. “Is it always this way?”
She shrugged, desperately trying to ignore the heady scent of his warm skin. It wasn’t the smell of sandalwood or citrus from soap. No, it was a natural male musk that made her want to bury her nose in the curve of his neck and inhale deeply.
“There are niceties to be followed.” That was just the way business was conducted here. She’d never really thought about it before but wondered what it must look like from an outsider’s point of view. Zaxe might look like a local, but he was a stranger here, unfamiliar with the customs.
The door swung open, and the guard stood back and swept his arm forward. “Reman will see you.”
Chapter Four
Zaxe had crawled through the underbelly of many planets in his lifetime, but he’d never experienced anything like this place. The natural stone walls were a rich cream color, as were the floors. This “back room” was illuminated by the glow of dozens of lanterns that hung from the ceiling. At first glance, they appeared to be oil lamps, but were actually solar powered. There must be panels on the roof. The lamps on the table were the real deal.
Zaxe's Rule (Assassins of Gravas Book 4) Page 3
