In the Black

by Sheryl Nantus

  A puff of cold air slapped her bare back.

  She froze, suds running off her skin.

  The fact that Etts hadn’t screamed in alarm meant only one other person could have opened the stall door and now stood there watching her.

  She waited.

  The low voice brought goose bumps to her exposed skin. “Captain. Glad to see you took advantage of my offer.”

  “Marshal.” She didn’t turn toward the open stall door. “Thank you for making it.”

  “You’ll be glad to know that the transport left without incident.” He didn’t say the name; he didn’t have to. He wasn’t going to taint this moment with that name.

  She was grateful for that.

  “That’s good. Hope they fry the bastard.” Sam reached for the washcloth and poured a good amount of liquid soap on it. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, watching her through the semi-clear glass.

  She didn’t have the urge to hide her scars. There weren’t many and they’d whitened and faded over time, but some of her lovers had cringed at seeing them.

  They hadn’t lasted long. In every sense of the word.

  Daniel chuckled. “We’ll see.” He walked back and forth in front of the shower, a slow, leisurely pace. “You found everything okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She looked at him through the door, her heart pounding like it was her first combat drop all over again.

  Time to put up or shut up. He’d be leaving soon and she needed to get him out of her system.

  “Could I impose on you to wash my back? I can’t quite reach back there.” She rolled her shoulders.

  He grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.” He took a step forward, then stopped. “One minute. No use getting my uniform wet.”

  Daniel slid off his jacket and tossed it over her pile of clothing. He tugged his T-shirt out of the top of his jeans and pulled it upward, annoyingly slowly.

  She forgot about the hot water running down her face.

  Somewhere on this small ship there had to be a full gym. There was no way those toned abs came from sitting in a cockpit chair for hours on end.

  No fricking way.

  The wide grin told her he knew darned well the effect he was having on her.

  She swallowed, seeing his scars. Her eyes traveled over the angry gashes, some faded with time and some more recent.

  Daniel looked down at himself. “I’ve gone a few rounds.” He winked and pulled the stall door open. “Back?”

  She handed him the soapy cloth and turned away from him, her pulse racing.

  A delicious shiver of anticipation shot through Sam’s spine, a moan escaping at the first touch of his hand. In the back of her mind she frowned. She shouldn’t be this affected just from his touch. This wasn’t anything more than a convenience, two people seeking to scratch an itch together and move on.

  There was nothing more to it.

  Was there?

  He didn’t step into the shower but reached in to draw large soaped circles on her back with the washcloth. “Where did you get this from?” He stopped on one nasty gash on her right hip.

  “Antilles Six. Idiot kid decided to see how fast he could land the shuttle. Damned fleet jockeys.” She sighed as his hand moved toward another white line, pushing her heartbeat into triple digits. “You know the routine. Get the first aid kit, patch up and keep going.”

  Daniel chuckled. “You know it.” His hand moved down her spine, hovering at the sweet indentation before going back up.

  She arched into his touch with a mixture of a sigh and a purr escaping her lips. “Lord. Been a long time since I got that.”

  He didn’t ask what “that” was.

  She didn’t offer.

  Daniel pulled back and placed the cloth on the narrow shelf.

  “What?” She spun to face him, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”

  “Let me get more comfortable.” He yanked at his jeans.

  Sam turned back and arched her back under the heated spray, punishing herself by not watching him strip down.

  A minute later and he stepped in behind her.

  “Feeling dirty?” Sam joked, her throat suddenly dry.

  “Figured I’d give you a hand.” Daniel spread some of the liquid soap on his hand and lathered up. “Feel free to return the favor.”

  He reached around to fondle one breast, his other hand holding her hip. She moaned and leaned back to rest her head on his shoulder.

  “You’re still too wound up,” he whispered into her ear. “I want this to last a good long time, so let’s take the edge off first.” His hand slipped down past her navel and between her legs.

  She gasped, suddenly unable to stand straight. Daniel nudged her legs apart with his knee, supporting her with his body.

  “Trust me, Sam.” His slick fingers danced between her folds. “Let go. I’ll catch you.”

  He slid his arm around her waist, holding her in place as he increased his motions.

  She whimpered as her head rocked back against him, her hips thrusting against him.

  “Let go,” he demanded.

  She wasn’t sure what to do. Her body was betraying her, reacting to his touch with pent-up lust and need, bucking against him instinctively. He unerringly sought out her most sensitive spots and teased them, pushed them beyond anything she could have done for herself.

  “Let go,” Daniel repeated. His teeth latched onto her earlobe and tugged. Hard.

  Sam shattered into a thousand jagged shards, her vision whiting out as she pressed back against him before going limp.

  He caught her, gripping her waist tight as she recovered. The hot water pounded down on her face, washing away any trace of his touch.

  “There,” Daniel announced. “That’ll take the edge off.” He nipped at one earlobe. “Let me know when you—” He broke off as she spun around to face him.

  She reached down and took hold of him with one hand, reaching for the bottle of liquid soap with the other.

  His eyes widened as she flipped the lid off the bottle with her thumb and poured a generous dollop down between them, landing exactly where she wanted it to.

  She heard a whimper.

  Two can play at this game.

  Her initial stroke had him up on his toes, gasping as she drew him toward her. He rocked back as she drew down to his balls and then forward again, relishing the gasps and sighs.

  Daniel closed his eyes tight and let out a hissing noise. “Sam—”

  “Just returning the favor,” she murmured, feeling herself responding to his arousal. Whatever there was between the two of them was electric, bringing her back to the edge simply by watching his reaction.

  His hips bucked toward her and for a second she thought he was about to come in her hand, the slickness making it hard to keep hold.

  “No,” Daniel growled through clenched teeth. “Not alone.”

  He grabbed her by the hips and pushed her against the wall before lifting her up. Before she could respond or react he plunged into her, burying himself inside.

  * * *

  She was going to be the death of him.

  No woman had ever pushed him to the edge so quickly with just her hands. Either Sam Keller was a succubus shredding his self-control or there was much more going on between them than just a one-night stand.

  He looked up at her flushed face, reddened from the hot water and from desire. His sudden movement had caught her off guard and now she opened her eyes to look at him, caught between ecstasy and shock.

  “Damn you, woman,” he grunted as his fingers dug into her hips. “What have you done to me?”

  She laughed and it sent a thrill down his spine, the unfamiliar sound bathing his soul and whetting his hunger even more.<
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  “You.” He slammed one hand down on the faucet, cutting off the water. “Are. Incredible. Etts, two-thirds gravity.”

  Sam frowned for a second and then arched back as he shifted against her.

  “Less gravity,” he whispered as his hips thrust forward again. “Makes you lighter.”

  She squeaked even as she arched against him. “Damn you, Daniel LeClair.” Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging and pulling with every motion.

  “Yeah,” he gasped. “But you’re coming along for the ride.” He felt the familiar shiver travel down his spine, pooling at the base and preparing to erupt.

  He threw back his head and roared, hearing her echoing scream in his ears.

  Daniel came back to himself kneeling on the stall’s floor, his arms wrapped around Sam and holding her tight. She rocked against him instinctively, drawing every last ounce of energy from him.

  “Damn,” he whispered before dropping kisses along her jaw line, ending at her lips. “That was—”

  “Wow,” she answered, looking at him. For a second he saw the sadness inside her falter, the shadows lifting.

  Then it returned in a rush, the curtain falling between them.

  “No.” Daniel gripped the back of her neck. “Don’t cut me out, Sam.” His tone shifted from dominant to gentle. “Don’t push me out.” He kissed her again. “Let me in. Let me see all of you.”

  * * *

  She was caught between being terrified and the yearning, the need to find someone.

  This wasn’t a one-night stand. This wasn’t going to be a way to fulfill the need burning inside her for months. The son of a bitch was ready to accept her despite all her flaws, broken and battered by the past.

  He loved her.

  The question was if she could love him. If she should love him.

  “Don’t shut me out, Sam,” he whispered. “I see the pain. I see the darkness. Let me help you deal with it.” He reached around and pulled her hand down to a scar on his leg. “I got that from raiding a pirate base with other marshals. We got pinned down. It was as if they knew we were coming and had set up ambushes the entire way.” He put his hand over hers and traced the half-moon scar. “When we finally got to the HQ we found one of our own, dead by his own hand. Bastard had been taking bribes and warned them we were coming. Shook us all to the core—Franco had been hardcore. An example for the rest of us. It took me a long time to trust anyone to have my back.” He locked eyes with her. “I trust you to have my back, Sam. I know I can trust you. And you know you can trust me.”

  She felt the puckered skin, the warped flesh curling around.

  She closed her eyes and wondered if there was a God out there and if he’d ever forgive her for her sins.

  Maybe this was a start.

  She opened her eyes with a faint smile.

  He returned it with interest.

  “Now—” Daniel rocked his hips from side to side, “—let me show you what else I can do in low gravity.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Etts made an apologetic sound, something between a beep and a whirr.

  Daniel sighed but didn’t open his eyes. “Half lights. As dim as you can get them, Etts.”

  The overhead fluorescent panel flickered once then grew in intensity, stopping at the stage where shadows existed, but barely.

  He looked down at Sam, tucked under his chin. The hammock held them both in the zero gravity, the netting wrapped around their intertwined bodies. Her fingers twitched against the inside of his thigh, dangerously close to reigniting the passion that had carried them through the past few hours.

  “What’s the problem?” he whispered.

  The AI went through a long string of chirps and clicks, keeping the volume just above a whisper.

  “Son of a—” Daniel winced as Sam blinked herself awake and then stared at him.

  She might be a Mercy captain but her old military instincts still held true. She could sense trouble from a mile away.

  “Whassup?” She was still sleepy, her words blurred. “What?”

  He bit his lower lip, trying to find the right phrasing.

  “What?” She pulled herself to eye level. “Belle? Is it the Bonnie Belle?” Her voice rose. “Etts, is there a problem on my ship?”

  Etts put out a soothing long, low tone.

  Sam looked at Daniel, all trace of sleepiness gone. “What’s wrong?”

  Daniel kissed the tip of her nose, unsure of how to deliver the news and unwilling to let her go. “Morris—Morris is dead.”

  Sam pulled her hand up from between them and rubbed her eyes. “Dead? How the fuck did that happen?”

  “The transport had some sort of system malfunction, lost life support in the cells. Emergency venting of the atmosphere into space. All of the prisoners in that area died.” A sour taste filled his mouth. “They’re saying it’s an accident.”

  “No.” Sam closed her eyes. “It was the Guild. Making sure there wouldn’t be a trial and that Morris would never get to testify.” A fragment of a thought broke free. “Damn. They wanted him to die all along.”

  Daniel looked at her. “What?”

  “Morris came after me because he got a Guild alert that you’d asked for a financial report. Sean got one too.” She shifted in his arms. “Grendel knew the situation, knew sending that alert would trigger one of them to make his move. Force the killer’s hand.”

  Daniel nodded. “Flush him out of hiding. But Grendel didn’t know he’d try to take you hostage.”

  “Wouldn’t matter what Morris did—he was set up for death. Either you’d take him out when he tried to escape with or without me or the transport would do the job. Don’t forget, as far as the Guild’s concerned I’m expendable. As long as Morris died before he got to trial, which was the goal. Bet they paid off the transport captain to arrange the accident.”

  “Possibly,” he admitted, thinking back to the old-timer he’d met on the ramp. “There’s going to be an investigation about the malfunction but my bet is it won’t amount to much. Those older ships have crap go wrong all the time, and it only affected a bunch of criminals.” He shook his head. “If it’d been a bunch of rich people or politicians there’d be a lot more fuss about it. I doubt it’ll even get a news mention.”

  He felt the shiver go through her, reverberating over his skin. “How many others died?”

  “Four more.” He pulled Sam back into his arms, feeling the tension in her muscles. “I know what you’re thinking. We didn’t kill him.”

  “He was my—”

  “You say responsibility and I’ll spank you. And not in a good way.” His hand went to her hip, pulling her closer. “He was a murderer and he almost killed you. He slaughtered Halley and tried to cover it up, putting another man in danger. Morris might have been one of your crew but you can’t be held accountable for his actions. You can’t control everything. You can’t save everyone.”

  “I should have. I—” She fell silent.

  “Sam.” He nuzzled her neck. “Do you want to tell me what happened at the Hub?”

  She stiffened in his arms and he knew he’d lost her.

  * * *

  Sam’s heart hammered in her chest, the panic attack barely held at bay by Daniel’s presence.

  Dane Morris was dead.

  Another member of her crew gone. First Halley Comet, now Dane Morris.

  Unacceptable losses.

  “Sam.” Daniel kissed her cheek, bringing her back up out of the darkness. “Sam, talk to me. I’m right here and I’m willing to listen. There’s nothing you can tell me that I can’t stand to hear.” She felt him smile against her neck. “And I like to cuddle and I’ll keep quiet about that sweet little tattoo on your thigh. What else could you ask for?”

 
Her chest ached.

  She let out a shuddering breath. “What do you know about the Hub? What were you told?”

  He paused before answering, a frown marring his peaceful features. “Terrorist attack on a military base. Lots of casualties on both sides but the good guys won in the end. I know your squad was there and not too long after that you mustered out to run a Mercy ship.” His hands moved up and down her back, the light caresses sending shivers over her sensitized skin. “Let me in, Sam. I’m a big boy. And I know how to keep a secret.”

  She drew a shallow breath and threw open the locked doors in her mind. “There were terrorists there. They had ships, they had men, they had weapons and they took over the base without much effort. At the start.”

  The memories were there and still strong, despite the therapy and all the counseling.

  A choked laugh escaped. “We weren’t even supposed to be assigned there. Emergency transfer in for some group that needed their jump refresher course, a quick trip in for two weeks and out once they cleared.”

  “It was bad,” Daniel prompted.

  “It was bad.” She twisted in his arms and found him holding her tight.

  “I’m not going to let you go,” Daniel whispered, lips pressed against her ear. “You’re safe here and now, with me.”

  “The reports didn’t lie. There were terrorists,” Sam murmured, “but they were us.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I don’t mean they were trying to imitate the military. They were the military—us, our people, our uniforms, our weapons,” she continued, the words tumbling out in a rush. “It was an attempted coup from the inside, from the highest levels of the military running all the way down to the grunts. Hundreds of men and women involved, maybe thousands—we never knew. They never told us if they did find out how far it went.”

  She felt his hands stop on her shoulders and tighten. “A military coup?”

  “It was a slaughter. Men turning on their leaders, leaders ordering friendly fire on their own troops, the betrayals—”

  She couldn’t talk about Emerson. Not yet.