by Mina Carter
She braided her hair as she walked out of the door, uniform neat and in place, heading for the lift. A quick stop at one of the central promenade retailers on the way to her office snagged her a coffee and a pastry, and she whistled to herself as she walked through the door.
“Hey, beautiful,” a familiar voice made her freeze and then groan internally. One of the night shift officers had Jayce Allen in cuffs leaning up against the booking desk. The cells were arranged along the walls of the central area, which could be used as a holding cell itself in case of more significant incidents.
Allen grinned and winked at her. “Miss me?”
“Like a hole in the head,” she growled as she approached the desk, holding her hand out for the booking sheet. Her thigh pocket gave a buzz, indicating an incoming message on her personal display flex, but she ignored it for the moment. If it was anything important, the computer would let her know.
“See?” Sparky rolled his head on his shoulder to grin at the booking officer Mills. “Told ya she loves me.”
“Really.” For once Mills was unamused, shooting Sparky a glare.
“Can you confirm your name?”
Allen grinned. “Your gorgeous boss knows who I am.”
Eris read through the report. Public disorder offenses. Again. “He needs you to confirm your name. Legal reasons.”
He leaned back against the counter, propped on his elbows. “Sparky.”
She sighed and handed the sheet back to Mills. “Full name, not a nickname, or we’ll put you in the system as a John Doe, and it’ll be a forty-eight not a twelve-hour hold.”
Rolling his eyes at her, Allen turned around and leaned on the counter. “Jayce Theodore Allen.”
“Theodore?”
“Yeah, I’m a teddy bear. Wanna give me a cuddle?”
Mills slapped the form down on the counter, almost taking Sparky’s nose off. “Sign here.”
“Can’t write, squire. Will a thumbprint do?”
“Ignore him, Mills,” Eris said, heading toward her office. “He reads and writes seven languages, including assholian. Don’t take any of his crap.”
“Hey! I resemble that remark!”
She shook her head and shut her office door, cutting off Sparky’s protests. She watched as the tall guy straightened up and signed the form before Mills escorted him toward a cell opposite her office. Great, she got to look at the wise-cracking asshole all day.
But rather than gesticulate to her all day, the lanky blond settled down, stretching full length on the narrow bunk and covering his eyes with his arm. Why was he back? The last time she’d seen him he was leaving with a new crew, none of whom she’d been able to find in the station database or in any police records anywhere.
Her eyes narrowed as she pulled up the logs again and checked her searches. Given the dark rings tattooed around Allen’s upper arms, she’d even called in a few favors and checked a highly illegal copy of the Mirax Corp’s records. She needed to know if she had a potential problem on her hands. But… nothing, zip, nada.
In fact, nothing came up on any of the searches she’d run, even after extending them out to the entire Terran systems network. None of the three men Allen had left with existed anywhere, on any system.
“Impossible.”
She pulled the footage up again, studying the three men. They were, in a word, massive and heavily muscled. One had long hair and an almost pirate-like swagger while the other two were short-haired. One, the guy who’d spoken to Allen, was intense and focused… and all of them had a dangerous aura, but the final man, with the short hair and the gloves, drew her attention the most.
She leaned forward, studying the screen intensely. Not much footage of the three was available, only what she’d been able to recover from the promenade security feeds and some from the side corridors. All of it showed Allen chatting away to his friends, the group’s body language easy and relaxed as they walked. But the feeds cut out when they headed down to the docks. She knew they’d been on dock eight, but once again, the feeds down there were on the fritz, and she had no footage from that time period.
“Dammit!” she hissed, slamming her hands against the edge of her desk as the screen stilled on a freeze-frame. Her mystery man had chosen just that moment to look over his shoulder and up at the camera. She could almost believe the smile on his lips was for her, that he knew she was watching, but that was ridiculous.
Leaning forward, she frowned. “Who the hell are you?”
3
Tarantus Station was the same battered, shitty little outpost he remembered. Zero smiled as they dropped out of high speed a short way off the station, and it came into view. His hands, metal and organic, moved over the console with ease and confidence as he zoomed the view on the central screen to a close-up of the station. Light from a nearby star glinted off the metal, peeled paint, and rust patches telling the tale of maintenance left to the ravages of insufficient budgets and mismanagement. He was surprised some areas were even still habitable.
Concern filled him as his gaze scanned over the bulbous central core, with its habitation rings rising like arms from the main body. Where did Eris live? Was she in danger if an airlock gave or a bulkhead blew? His muscles locked up as he fought the need to gun the engines and get to her as quickly as possible. The sheer force of the need shook him. He’d never had such a response to a woman before.
“Any word from Sparky yet?” he asked over his shoulder as he smoothly dropped them onto the approach vector station control had allocated them. They were known here, so their transponder signal and arrival hadn’t caused any alarm. A lot of that was down to the Sprite’s chameleon systems.
Holographic emitter arrays dotted the hull and altered the appearance of the ship to that of a human trader vessel. They’d have to get up close and personal, close enough to touch the hull, to figure out what they were seeing was false. As another precaution, he made sure to uplink with the base as they docked and knocked out the security cameras on the docking arm as well. In a place like Tarantus, with its strained maintenance schedule, no one thought twice about it.
“Nope, nothing,” Skinny, their comms officer, replied. “No response at all.”
“That’s not like him.” Zero frowned as he cycled down the engines and levered himself out of the pilot’s chair. Beauty was ready and waiting to take his place, his eyes gleaming with anticipation of finally getting to fly Zero’s baby.
He shot out a hand, gripping the smaller man by the shoulder. “Not even a scratch. Understand?” he demanded in a warning growl. “No bumps, no scrapes… I don’t want to hear so much as a bolt rattle on her when you get back. Okay?”
“You got it, big man.” Beauty smiled. It was meant to be reassuring, but… yeah, Zero knew Beauty. The guy might be one of the quietest members of the Warborne, keeping to himself a lot of the time, but Zero had seen him in combat. He was utterly bat-shit crazy, and that gleam in his eye said he was a speed demon.
“Still don’t like it.”
T’Raal, sitting in the captain’s chair in the middle of the bridge, grunted. “Your call. We need supplies from Praxis-Four, so fly us there yourself or let Beauty fly so you can go ‘find’ Sparky.”
His mocking air quotes were accompanied by a small smirk that made Zero groan mentally. T’Raal hadn’t been fooled by his concern for the human ex-con after all.
“Yeah, yeah… I’m going,” he grumbled, grabbing his pack and slinging it over one broad shoulder.
The Sprite was so small he was out of the airlock and walking down the docking arm corridor within minutes. Behind him, he heard the airlock shut and start to cycle as Beauty prepared the ship to leave. His hackles rose for a second, but he forced the feeling down. He was on his own here, yes, but he was more than capable of taking care of himself. And he had an ally on station… if he could find whichever hole the wily smart-mouthed human had disappeared down.
Heading for the central area, he made his way up to the upper prome
nade levels. Several people watched him with interest as he passed, so he made sure they got a good look at the heavy energy-pistols holstered on his hips. That usually discouraged even the nosiest among them. He suppressed his snigger as they all abruptly found something other than him way more interesting. Like the floor. Or the ceiling.
The upper level contained most of the bars on the stations, so it was empty this time of day. From what he knew of Sparky, that would make absolutely no difference. He seemed to be equal opportunities when it came to sex and alcohol.
Wandering into the bar he knew Sparky frequented, he paused for a moment as if to allow his vision to adjust to the darker interior. He didn’t need it, but squinting was a useful cover for him to scan the interior of the bar.
His grin widened. Sparky wasn’t in here, but his search wasn’t a total bust. There, over the other side of the bar, her back to him, was Eris Archer.
❖
Four hours of dealing with paperwork was more than enough hell for one woman, so by dinner time, Eris was ready to scream. To add insult to injury, the message that had been waiting for her on her personal flex was from her brother. Sighing, she’d ignored it. The third bit of bad luck. The last thing she needed was her asshole twin guilt-tripping her over whatever bee their mother had in her bonnet now.
So she’d escaped to Pat’s bar for her version of “me time.” She always sat at the rear of the bar with her back to the room. It stopped people talking to her and interrupting her little oasis of calm in the middle of the day.
Sighing, she lifted her coffee and closed her eyes, breathing in the steam from the top of the mug. She took a sip and murmured in pleasure. The stuff in the office was okay. It was hot and wet, but that was all that could be said about it. The coffee in Pat’s was the proper filter stuff and a balm to her soul. She treated herself to a couple more sips before she turned her attention to the toasted sandwich on her plate.
She was halfway through it when she became aware of someone’s attention. Her gaze flicked up to the mirror on the back wall to see someone weaving his way through the tables toward her. Not just any someone, but the same man she’d been studying earlier this morning on her security screens.
Allen’s mysterious friend.
She blinked and pinched herself, in case she’d fallen asleep in her office and this was all a dream. But nope, other than a sharp pain in her thigh, nothing altered. Tall, dark and handsome still walked toward her… and she still had a mouthful of sandwich.
“Hey,” he smiled as he reached her table, the dimples in his cheeks as sexy as all hell. “Do you mind if I join you?”
She raised an eyebrow as she swallowed quickly. There were empty tables all around them and men like this? They usually didn’t come on to women like her. She was too tall, too slender and too acerbic for anyone to want to flirt with. Eric had always been the charismatic one, not her.
“Why?”
She groaned to herself as the comment slipped out. Blunt and to the point, it was just this side of confrontational.
But he didn’t seem perturbed. Instead, he grabbed a chair, turned it around, and sat straddled, his heavily muscled arms folded over the back. “Because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She just looked at him. The silence stretched out. Then she laughed.
“Yeah… right?” She looked around them quickly. “Okay, so where are they?”
He frowned. “Who?”
“The camera crew that leaps out to say ‘surprise!’” She picked up her coffee again and took a sip. “I take a dim view of shit like that. And believe me, pissing off the head of security on a place like this isn’t a place you wanna be.”
His expression froze, and he looked at her curiously. “You think this is a joke? Why?”
She snorted, putting her cup down with a small click. “Men like you do not look twice at women like me,” she told him shortly, really in no mood for crap like this today.
Yeah, sure, she might have semi-obsessed over him on the security feeds, but that was it. The charm offensive had to have an ulterior motive. Like Grayson, her shuddering ex, who had wined and dined her to get an in with station security so he could ship his hinky shipments without issues. Fortunately, she’d seen his game early on and thrown him in the cells herself. “So either your buddies have put you up to it, or you want something.”
“Someone hurt you, badly. Didn’t they?” he mused, rubbing at the stubble on his oh-so-kissable jaw with strong fingers.
“Pop-psychology as well, huh?” She was on the defensive now, her back well up. “What’s with the one-glove look? Some off-world fashion someplace?”
His eyebrow winged up a little, and she caught a flash of anger in his eyes, quickly smothered. Ha… so Mister Charm wasn’t as unrufflable as he seemed. Was he?
Pushing upright, he pulled the black leather glove off his hand, yanking at the fingers before sliding it off. The glove hit the table. Her mouth opened and closed like a guppy as heat spread over her cheeks. Metal met her gaze. His right hand was a replacement.
“I do apologize. I didn’t realize you were…”
His lips quirked. “What? Devastatingly handsome? Charming in wit? Intelligent?”
“Differently abled,” she ground out, more annoyed with herself than him. She’d taken the mickey out of his glove when he was hiding his replacement hand and that had been cruel. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have made fun of your glove.”
He reached out and covered her hand with his, the organic one. “Hey… it’s okay,” he murmured, obviously sensing her distress. “Really. I’m not sensitive about it. And I’m not just differently abled, beautiful… I’m differently gifted.”
She couldn’t help the small snort that escaped her. “Gifted, huh?”
“You’d better believe it, baby.”
“Obviously humility didn’t come as part of the package.”
He grinned. “No need, not with my package. But you know what they say…”
She’d been about to clap him back for the package comment but lifted an eyebrow. “No, what do they say?”
“The proof of the pudding’s in the eating,” he drawled. “So how about it, beaut? Take a chance on me?”
She recovered her hand, instantly missing the warmth of his touch. Leaning back in her chair, she looked at him over the rim of her cup. “You? I thought we were talking about your package?”
His eyes darkened. “You can take that out for a spin any time you like, sweetheart. I just thought you’d like to be wined and dined first…”
“And we’re right back to why. And don’t give me that crap about me being the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen… unless you need optical implants as well.”
He just winked at her and tapped his left temple. “Who says I didn’t?”
Oh god… she wanted the ground to open and swallow her whole. Just one problem with that. No ground on a station and she’d seen the maintenance sublevels. No way did she want to end up down there. She’d probably end up with an infection or a nasty skin rash.
She finished her coffee and put the cup back down, pushing it away. “Well… it was nice talking to you, Mr…?”
“Zero.” He smiled.
“Mr. Zero,” she corrected herself as she stood. “But I’m afraid I need to get back to work.”
“It’s just Zero.” He stood at the same time. “What time do you get off work?”
“I’m afraid I’m pulling the graveyard tonight,” she said with a smile, totally brushing him off. She had a name now, so she could find out more about him. Even if she had to impound his damn ship to find out who the hell he and his friends were. “Perhaps see you around.”
And with that, she left quickly.
❖
Her quip to Zero had been meant as a brush off, but less than four hours later it turned out to be unwittingly prophetic.
“You have to be kidding me?” she asked, her expression flat and totally unimpressed.
“You’re telling me they BOTH managed to get themselves a medbay trip?”
Mills looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I’m afraid so, boss,” he grimaced. “Ward called out a warning, but Nelson didn’t hear him and piled through the door right after him. They both got hit as the door shorted out.”
She groaned, closing her eyes. Yeah, she knew some of her staff weren’t the brightest bulbs in the box since places like Tarantus didn’t attract the cream of the crop, but come on… was common sense too much to ask for?
“Right, okay,” she sighed, opening her eyes. “Is tonight the only shift that needs covering?”
“Uh-huh.” Mills handed her the staffing sheet. “I managed to move everyone else around. We’ll be a little short for a few days until Baires gets back from leave but we can manage.”
She gave a small smile. “Whatever would I do without you, Mills?”
He opened his mouth, a gleam of hope in his eyes. She slapped the staffing sheet into the middle of his chest. “And no, that doesn’t mean dinner… or anything else. I don’t date my staff.”
His face fell a little, but then he grinned. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. Can you?”
She chuckled as she stole his new coffee, still steaming in its plasti-mug. “Nope. Now get your ass out of here before I change my mind and make you pull a double shift.”
He was headed to the door almost before she’d finished the sentence. “Thanks, boss. See you tomorrow!”
Cradling her purloined drink, she settled herself behind the desk. When she looked up, she caught Allen grinning at her from his cell. “What are you grinning at?”
He was sitting up, leaning against the wall with one forearm against a raised knee. “The foolishness of youth. That kid never had a chance with you, but fair play to him for trying.”
Her hackles rose a little. “How do you know he didn’t have a chance?”
Allen’s lips quirked. “He’s a kid. You’d eat him for breakfast.”
“Oh, so I’m a maneater now. Am I?”
