“No? You seem to be doing a good job of it with your mercenary commander.”
Val’s teeth clenched, and it was a moment before she could pry them apart to say, “That’s not what I was doing.”
The admiral’s grunt didn’t convey a lot of belief. “The base commander says you’re actually competent out there.” He waved toward the ceiling.
She stared at him. He couldn’t have come over here to compliment her. Could he have? Why would he bother? Unless she had somehow redeemed herself with her flying. But then why the continuing snideness about her kiss with Gregor?
“I’m still alive,” she said. “Any mission you come back from is a good one, right?”
“Why are you applying to join a bloodthirsty pack of mercenaries?”
Val barely knew the people of Mandrake Company, but she bristled at them being described as bloodthirsty. Some of them might be, but so far, she had only meant regular people who were out there doing what work they could do to pay the bills and get by. “Why does anyone become a mercenary? I need the money.”
His brows twitched. Yeah, there were less dangerous ways to earn a living. She had been doing fine as a freighter pilot until this need for quick cash had come up.
“Look, I have a brother who got himself in trouble, and he’s all I have left in the galaxy. I took out a loan to put a down payment on the debt he owes, but I need to be able to come up with the monthly payments, and I wasn’t going to be able to make that happen with my old job. Mercs get combat bonuses, and pilots get even more than ground troops.”
“Why didn’t you stay in the fleet? You might have been a commander or even a captain by now, and officers get paid well and get combat bonuses, as well.”
“I’m from Grenavine,” Val said.
Summers waved his hand, as if this were some tiny insignificant thing. “The planet’s long gone. You survived. Why destroy your career over something that’s in the past? It’s not as if GalCon is going to be destroying more worlds. This system is big, but it isn’t that big. As the population continues to grow, we’ll need room to expand. They know that.”
Somehow Val doubted those in charge cared about the needs of the populace as a whole. They had their private islands—or moons or planets or space stations, as was the case with some of those finance lords—and needn’t be concerned about the future of the system.
“You could come back to the fleet,” Summers said. “You’re not too old to enlist, and since you made it through the academy and received your commission, you could come in as an officer again.”
Even if Val had been interested in working for GalCon again—she shuddered at the idea—it wasn’t feasible. “I’ll earn the money faster this way. I’m sure I’d have to apply all over again, wait to hear back, go through some training… it’d be a while before I was earning that full officer’s pay.” The edge had faded from Val’s voice, and she had lost some of her tension, some of her wariness toward Summers, but she didn’t know if that was good or not. Was this truly what he had come up here to discuss? Why would he care about her career? Why would he care about her at all? Especially when he was so quick to snub Gregor, who was a far better pilot than she. If he was looking for new pilot officers, why wasn’t Summers off trying to recruit Gregor?
“I could move things along for you.” Summers glanced over his shoulder—from Val’s position, she couldn’t see anything besides the stone wall of the hangar behind him—then took a couple of steps deeper into the shuttle. He leaned against the side of a seat in the aisle, still casual his pose said, but a sharpness in his eyes made her uneasy. That and the fact that she was feeling trapped again. She wasn’t that far from the pilots’ seats, so there wasn’t much space for retreat. “Maybe get you a nice signing bonus, if you’re willing to commit to eight or ten years.”
“I see.” If this offer were coming from someone she respected, someone who hadn’t been grating on her nerves since he first roused from unconsciousness, she might have considered it. As hard as it would be to deal with the GalCon propaganda and the fleet’s rigidity again, she might consider it for Yarrow’s sake. “And this offer, it’s coming out of the goodness of your heart? Forgive my skepticism, but my flying isn’t that good. All I’ve done down here is my job.”
Summers chuckled. “You’re no dummy, either. See? Officer material.”
“Uh huh. Why don’t you tell me what you want, Admiral? I’ve got some hungry engineers to feed.”
His eyelids drooped low, something that didn’t quite hide that his gaze dipped to her chest. Val abruptly regretted her choice to wear a blouse, especially since she hadn’t yet donned her jacket. Maybe she would put it on now. Except it was hanging on the back of a seat on the other side of the admiral.
“The same deal as you have with Thatcher,” he said.
Those alarm bells started clanging again. “And what deal would that be?” she asked, though she would be shocked if she didn’t already know his answer.
Summers took a couple of steps closer. She swallowed. He wouldn’t attack her, would he? Why would he have to? There was a crowd out there, some of them female, who would probably jump into his bed at the crook of a finger now that he had delivered such a harsh blow to the enemy. Maybe he didn’t want his own people to know what an ass he was, and he figured he could do anything he wanted to her and nobody would care.
“You suck my dick, and I’ll pull some strings for you,” he said, his voice husky now. He lowered a hand to his belt, brushing his fingers against a bulge in his crotch.
Damn, her clothed chest wasn’t that exciting. What, had the adulation of all of his people given him an itch? And he’d decided he could stroll right over here and get it scratched, as easy as that?
“As, ah, magnanimous as that offer is,” Val said, “I’m going to pass.” The words “fuck off” had come to mind, too, but she chose the political answer because she wanted to buy herself a couple more minutes to figure out what she was going to do if he decided to force the issue.
He stood in the center, blocking the only aisle, and she would have to climb on seats to get past him and out the door. Once she was out in the hangar, she ought to be all right, but it was too confined in here, and nobody could see in unless they walked around to the back and climbed the ramp. She didn’t like the way it had gotten quiet out there, like that crowd had dispersed. Her own people should still be at the other shuttle, but would they hear her if she yelled? Unfortunately, she wasn’t wearing a weapon. He might have gray hair, but she remembered how heavy he had been when they had been dragging him through the moon station. There was more muscle than fat beneath that uniform.
“You might want to rethink that,” Summers said, taking another step toward her. He was less than two paces away now. She wished she had something heavier than ration bars in her hands to throw at him. She tensed, ready to spring past him. “It’s a good offer,” he added. “We fuck a little here, then you come by my office whenever your ship takes you past Alta Prime. I’ll make sure you have a good career, make enough to get your brother out of hock. It’s a better deal than you’ll get from those scuzzy mercenaries.”
Another step. Too close. A surge of panic rose in her chest. If she’d had a weapon, she would have used it. Instead, she said, “Screw you, Admiral,” and walked forward. She darted to his side to pass him, readying herself in case he tried to grab her.
He did. As soon as he reached for her, she ducked and threw her elbow at his crotch. He twisted, and she connected with his hipbone instead. That probably hurt her more than it hurt him, but she didn’t pause to think about it. She lunged for the aisle and the ramp, but jerked to a stop. A man had just charged up the ramp. Her first terrified thought was that Summers had brought a guard to make sure he wasn’t interrupted—or that she wouldn’t get away—but it wasn’t one of the locals. It was Gregor. And he was barreling toward Summers with murder in his eyes.
Startled, both by his appearance and the rage she had never s
een on him before, she stumbled to the side, almost tripping over the last seat.
“What are you—” Summers’s demand broke off, drowned by the smack of flesh against flesh.
Val recovered her balance and turned in time to see Gregor ram an uppercut into the admiral’s gut. Summers staggered, the backs of his knees hitting a seat, but he recovered, roared, and flung himself at his opponent. He was a more skilled fighter than the bar thugs, and Val winced at the flurry of blows the two men exchanged, both taking bruising punches.
Gregor blocked a grab and slammed a fist into the admiral’s face. That stunned the older man, giving Gregor the advantage. More blows followed, the anger in his eyes scary. At first, Val felt vindicated as she watched Gregor pummel her would-be assailant, but when the admiral stopped fighting back and dropped to his knees, covering his face, she ran forward, knowing she had to stop Gregor before he killed Summers. Otherwise there would be consequences. No, there would be consequences anyway.
“Gregor,” she shouted, waving her arms, trying to get his attention. She was afraid to grab him while he was in the middle of pummeling the admiral, but she would if he didn’t stop.
He halted at her first call of his name, his fist hanging in the air, drawn back for another punch. Blood smeared his knuckles. She didn’t think it was his; Summers had taken far more damage than he.
The admiral groaned.
“Get out,” Gregor growled and grabbed him by the uniform jacket. He hefted Summers to his feet, manhandling him toward the ramp.
Val stepped out of the way. Gregor shoved Summers and he stumbled, almost toppling to his hands and knees on the ramp. Blood splashed the gray metal around his feet. His nose was bleeding like a waterfall. He recovered enough to stagger down the ramp, and the glare he shot back at Gregor was murderous. Oh, yeah. There would be consequences. As much as Val appreciated Gregor’s willingness to defend her—how long had he been there listening, anyway?—she wished she had dealt with that herself. Granted, her way of dealing with it hadn’t been any classier than Gregor’s, but she doubted Summers would have admitted to anyone that a girl had struck him. This… this was going to get around, and in a way that left the truth behind, she had no doubt of that.
Val rubbed her face. Gregor’s fury seemed to have abated; he stood at the top of the ramp, his shoulders slumping, his chin to his chest. He, too, knew there was going to be trouble over this.
“I’m sorry,” Val said. “As soon as he appeared at the hatch, I suspected I wasn’t going to want to hear what he had to say. I should have found a way to extricate myself from the mess before—” Before he started rubbing his crotch, she thought. “Just before,” she said aloud with a sigh.
Gregor looked over his shoulder at her, his expression puzzled but also… hurt? Regretful? “You’re sorry? You did nothing wrong. I should have reacted much sooner. As soon as I heard…” He dropped his chin again. “I heard you speak of your brother and him offer you the bonus. I thought… It didn’t occur to me that he might have an agenda. I thought it might be an opportunity for you. And then when he said… what he said, I was so stunned. I just couldn’t believe it. That a fleet officer, someone of his rank, his fame, that he would even… I couldn’t understand it. I thought I must have heard wrong.” He shook his head back and forth slowly as he spoke. Yes, he had been stunned, and he was still stunned. She may have never known Summers as anything more than an asshole, but Gregor had idolized the man.
“You can get away with a lot when you have that much power.” Val stepped forward to join Gregor and clasped his hand. Even if this was going to make trouble, she was glad he had overheard and that he had charged up, showing once again that he cared. It couldn’t have been easy for him, turning on a legend. “Thank you for coming up to help.”
Raised voices sounded on the far side of the hangar. Val was certain one of them belonged to Summers.
“You are welcome.” Gregor looked at her hand, then shifted to face her. He lifted an arm for a hug. She thought it was for a hug, anyway. He paused halfway into the motion and raised his eyebrows in a question. Did she want a hug? Did she want to be touched at all by a man right now?
She smiled and stepped into his arms. The admiral’s assumptions might have rattled her, but she’d had crude offers before. The incident probably bothered Gregor more than it did her; maybe he needed the hug more than she did. That was fine with her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in the side of his neck. After the fight, his skin was moist with sweat, and she blushed, reminded of her dream.
He clasped the back of her head, his fingers rubbing her gently through her hair. “I wish I had asked about your brother,” he murmured.
“Oh? Why? It’s nothing you should be concerned about.”
“I wanted to know about you. I wrote it on my list of things I could discuss with you on the shuttle ride to the base, but I crossed it out because I worried you would be offended by my prying.”
“You made a list of things we could discuss?” She smiled, having no trouble imagining him doing so by this point.
“It was part of my pre-flight checklist.”
“What did you actually end up writing on it? Because I know you never asked about Yarrow.”
“Basics of Space Flight Quiz,” Gregor said.
Val giggled. She never giggled, but something about this entire admission tickled her to the core. Of course that had been on the list.
“You did not seem to enjoy the chance to practice mathematics as much as I had hoped.”
Still smiling, the nastiness of the earlier encounter fading from her mind, she kissed his neck. “You must think me a terribly strange girl.”
“A terribly appealing girl,” he said.
“Mm.” Val had meant her kiss to be nothing more than an affectionate peck, but the salty taste of his skin and the masculine scent of him wrapping around her made her lips want to linger. She kissed him again, then slid her tongue out, tracing the tendon on the side of his throat.
His fingers had been massaging her scalp, but they stilled at her ministrations. This wasn’t the time or place for another frenzied kissing session, but she didn’t want to pull away from him. Maybe they could sneak back to one of their rooms. Maybe they would get lucky and Summers wouldn’t say anything to anyone, and nothing would come of that fight—that beating.
“Val?” Gregor whispered. “I should let you know…”
“Yes?” She’d followed that tendon up to his jaw, and she stood on tiptoes to trace it to his earlobe.
“I decided…” He cleared his throat. Yes, he did sound a tad hoarse. “I decided my feelings for you would make it impossible to judge whether or not you had displayed the skills necessary to become a permanent Mandrake Company pilot. You have, of course, but I feared that I would appear biased. I am biased. I want you to join.” His words came quickly, breathlessly. She chose to believe that had something to do with the way she was nibbling and sucking at his earlobe. The rise and fall of his chest against hers was quicker than it had been before. “I want you.” His arms tightened, and he bent his head to her throat, inhaling deeply, breathing her in.
“Good,” she said, almost a groan, for his lips had found sensitive flesh. His tongue slipped out for a taste, and she shuddered, enjoying the contrast of damp warmth from the cool air.
“Good that I am biased?” Gregor asked. “Or good that I want you?”
“Yes.” She kneaded his shoulders, luxuriating in the sensation of his lips kissing a path along her throat. His teeth grazed her, and a hot shiver ran through her.
“I intend to ask… Lieutenant Sequoia… to make the final decision.”
Between the exquisite touch of his lips and the gentle nips of his teeth, she barely heard him, and managed only another, “Good,” in response. She was the one growing breathless now.
“I will, of course… give him the details of… how solid you’ve been… on this mission.”
“Glad to hear
it.”
The fingers that had been rubbing her scalp started moving again, his nails tracing their way down her neck, to her shoulder, and to the front of her blouse. The backs of his knuckles brushed the side of her breast, following its curve, and her nipples hardened in response. It occurred to her that they could simply shut and lock the door to the shuttle for privacy. No need to return to their rooms.
“Just to be clear,” Val said, turning her head to look at his face. “There’s no question now: there’s nothing to be gained if I sleep with you?”
Gregor paused, moving his teasing mouth from her throat. His eyes burned with an intensity, a naked lust that heated her as if they were burning her with lasers. “Not of a career or monetary nature,” he said gravely, watching her for a reaction.
“Of another nature?”
“You’d gain my adoration. Of course, you already have that.”
“Good.” She was saying that a lot, wasn’t she? He was so much more articulate than she. Oh, well. She would see how articulate he was when she had her hand around his cock. “I want you too.”
His eyes widened—had he truly not figured that out yet?—then he cupped the side of her face and kissed her hard. Deep.
When their lips parted slightly for a breath, she gasped, “The door,” meaning they should close it, but he stopped and looked in that direction, as if he was listening for something.
She moaned a protest and tried to pull his head back down, but he only gave her a sad look.
“They’re coming.”
The thumps of footsteps sounded on the cement. Fast footsteps. Several people were jogging in their direction. Gregor’s arms dropped to his sides, and the cold air engulfed Val like a prison. Reluctantly, oh so reluctantly, she let go of him and stepped back as well. She didn’t know if they managed to look normal, two people standing side by side, when the men with guns charged into view, but at least they weren’t pawing at each other like horny teenagers. Not this time.
“Commander Thatcher,” the man in front said, “you’re under arrest.”
Trial and Temptation (Mandrake Company) Page 17
