"The Hydra operation is still officially classified a ‘Need to Know’ order, sir.” The major shrugged, seemingly unaware of the violent danger he faced in this man of peace he now served under. “Before this, there wasn't a need for you to know about my previous assignments."
Major Asher Jones remained looking “oh so cool and calm” with his lazy-eyed blink, but Gabe read the turmoil the Marine kept in check. This man was slow to anger, or at least slow to act on his anger, but it wouldn't be wise to make him mad. And Gabe wasn't sure what the major felt about Sol. The memory was more than just respect. Gabriel hesitated to delve deeper. A telepathic empath didn't do that to his friends. And Gabe had always counted Asher Jones as more a friend than an aide. Besides, he might not like what he found and that would destroy their friendship. Some secrets from one's past were best left as secrets. Gabe continued practicing his diplomatic mind exercises, whose reasoning had saved him from himself more than once, and from more dangerous enemies than he remembered.
"We both know that I'm not talking about Hydra,” Gabe turned back to his desk and fell into his chair. “Although, I do want to know what happened when you left that hellhole."
The gray-eyed major cocked his head and arched a brow. Gabe felt as if he were being studied under a scope. Finally, Asher took a breath. “Captain Scott's crew, what was left of us, were medaled for heroic action above and beyond, then broken up and reassigned to different ships. I haven't seen or spoken to Captain Scott or anyone from the old crew since."
"Hmmm.” Gabe sat back in his chair, steepled his fingertips together, and gave the major his best glare. “But you definitely knew I was looking for Captain Scott.” He cocked his chin and gave his practiced glare. “I bet you even knew where she was the whole time, Major. Why didn't you tell me?"
The major gave a slow grin that lit up his face and crinkled the skin around his light eyes. Freckles dusted his nose and cheeks. His pale gaze remained steady on Gabe's. He wasn't the least bit intimidated by authority and wasn't afraid to show it. “Perhaps I wanted to see if Sol wanted to be found by you."
"Ah.” Gabe nodded. He stared intently into the man's eyes. Asher didn't blink. “So that's how it is.” Gabe understood loyalty to a former officer. He let himself be diverted and softly muttered a curse before he raised his voice. “And now, what do you think?"
"Permission to speak freely?” The major assessed him with cool regard.
"Yeah, off the record."
"I think if you break her heart, Commander, I'll break your head with no regrets.” Not an ounce of amusement rested in that icy look. His eyes as well as his expression went flat. The muscles hardened in the smooth planes of his face, and one long one jumped in his cheek.
"Fair enough.” Gabe extended his hand, knowing that he could crush Asher's head like a melon before the man got one hand raised. “I promise on my honor that I will love and respect Soledad Scott with every breath I take. I will never force her to do anything she doesn't want to do. Fair enough?"
In reply, the major jerked a nod and gripped Gabe's hand. Damn it, the man was just as bad as de’ Marco trying to prove a point by dueling grips. Gabe tightened his palm a fraction. Asher nodded again but never spoke a word, although Gabe noted that the major rubbed his knuckles against his leg. Gabe had not consciously tried to hurt the man. Not really. He knew now that Asher would fight to the death for Sol. He needed that same loyalty. Gabe had to cough against a tight throat before he asked, “Now tell me what you think of Gellico de’ Marco."
* * * *
"Major Jones, show Miss de’ Marco how to break down and reassemble your MK-30.” The major responded to Gabriel's order, but Gellico showed no sign of recognition of the Major even though he had been on Sol's rescue team to Hydra so long ago.
Last night, Gabe had discovered, with amazement, that Asher also knew next to nothing about the dancer other than she had been one of the rescued. Ash had even carried her to the infirmary, but Gellico had been unconscious at the time. For the remainder of the trip to base, Sol had ordered all the male Marines away from the Hydra survivors. Then, on Delta Three where the Guild could keep close watch, the women, Gellico included, were transferred to a waiting medical facility without ever regaining consciousness. Perhaps Sol had kept them drugged senseless. Gabe had hoped for more information, about Hydra as well as de’ Marco.
For the length of this mission to Hydra, Major Jones, as the commander's aide, would be Gabe's shadow, guarding his every move. Gabe had given Ash orders to do the same for Gellico, but he didn't tell the dancer. He knew that de’ Marco could be more liability than help on Hydra if she didn't know proper fighting technique. Oh, Gabe was sure she knew the gutsy brawling techniques, but he wanted to ensure that she knew as much about weapons as she thought she did. Gabriel hated to risk his men. All of his Marines were important to him. He knew each and every one as well as every member of their families. As a telepathic empath, even without meaning to, he knew intimate details that he'd never tell. How Asher had hid his past so well was beyond Gabe's knowledge. His aide was showing hidden depths, and Gabe intended to use them.
Traveling on-board the Treaty, Gabriel's diplomatic cruiser, they had an arsenal of weapons and fighting men. All Gellico lacked was proper training time. The major, who was Gabe's best weapons man as well as his senior officer, could train Gellico, but they lacked reasonable time for a complete drill basic. But the flight to Hydra planned one stop—at Dante's Circus—before they flew to the prison world. Not enough time to give Gellico more than a cursory training in the rifle's use. The cruiser's armory seemed the best training ground.
"Just give me the damned thing.” Gellico held out her hand for the MK-30, an impudent smirk on her face. Major Jones regarded Gellico for a moment with his calm gaze before tossing the lightweight laser rifle to her.
With the efficient speed of any experienced Marine, Gellico caught the weapon, broke it down and snapped it back in place in less then thirty seconds. She flipped it back to the major with a graceful twirl.
A large grin broke the stoic Marine's face. Asher turned to Gabe with a twinkle in his eyes and faint dimples marking his cheeks. “Beat your record, Commander."
"Yeah, well, let's hope we don't have to put her experience to work, Major.” Gabe huffed while regarding Gellico with a raised brow, that diplomatic look he practiced to intimidate. “What else have you smuggled besides clothing and jewels, de’ Marco?
"Cool your jets, Commander. I have never traded in drugs—or guns. Never.” Gellico glared at him. “I just once loved a Marine that liked to teach ... target practice, mostly, that's all."
"No shit? What happened to him?” Gabe couldn't keep the amazement from his voice; he was still reeling from the speed of her weapon assembly. Gellico frowned at his scrutinizing gaze. She glanced over at Asher who regarded her intently with those cool eyes of his. But Gabe knew Ash was as impressed as he. One corner of his mouth lifted, and the Marine gave Gellico a slow, sly wink that he obviously thought was out of Gabe's line of sight. Gellico jerked in surprise. A flush brought unbelievable freckles to view across the major's average looking nose and cheeks. Gabe snorted at the obvious attraction between the two. He realized that a lot of people might overlook Ash's average appearance. Most people would fall under his comfortable presence without realizing his worth. Bad mistake. Gabe knew Asher Jones was a Marine through and through. He might appear nonthreatening, after all, the major was of that average height, average build, with average features. At present, he stood in military at-ease pose, his stance loose and relaxed waiting on Gellico. Gabe coughed. “Ah, can we get on with it, people?"
Gellico snapped her spine straight, and her gaze shot to Gabe's. “Oh yes. You asked what happened to him. She died on Rigel Four."
Gabe closed his eyes, hiding his sympathy for her loss. He, too, knew grief for a loved one. With what he hoped was a neutral expression, he dipped his head to Gelli. He looked at Asher. The Marine didn't seem surpris
ed that Gelli was a lover of women. He didn't even look offended.Just a noncommittal compassion rested in his steady gaze. Hmmm. Perhaps there was hope for the obvious attraction between the two. For now, Gabe had more important things to do. “I'm sorry, Miss de'Marco."
"Yeah. Me, too, Commander.” Gellico hurried toward the armory's exit as if she wanted to get on to the more important things. “Can I get some sleep now?"
"Sure. Major Jones, show Miss de’ Marco her quarters. And Jonesy—” Gabe paused, stared intently at his aide. “—no fraternization. I need everyone focused here."
"Yes, sir!” The major flipped a proper two-fingered salute to his forehead, his face stoic but his cheekbones also carrying a flush.
Gelli snapped at Gabe, “There's no cause for that, Commander. Listen to your own advice. I notice we're stopping at Dante's Circus. I wonder why?” She glared, obviously irritated at Gabe's insinuations.
"Yeah, we are stopping there. I thought maybe you might want to tell Sol why you're going with me.” Gabe couldn't keep the hopeful sound from his voice.
"Nah. You get that pleasure all by yourself, big man. But ... nice try at covering your ass.” Gellico winked and left the room with a rich laugh trailing behind her.
"Bitch,” Gabe muttered without meaning for her to hear.
Gellico stuck her head back in and blew him a kiss, sweetly saying, “Back at you, bastard.” She slammed the door with a bang. Gabe rocked with the truth of her innocent statement.
* * * *
Sol pestered Punch a third time. “Are they here yet?"
Punch lumbered over to her table with a cup of Caladinea green tea. Miraculously the big Rigelian bouncer didn't spill a drop. “No.” He gently placed the steaming cup near Sol's hand and tapped his blunt fingers next to it for emphasis. Wrinkles creased his broad forehead, but he didn't speak again before returning to his post by the door, nursemaid and guardian to the last.
Sol sighed. It took entirely too much effort to be mad at the Rigelian. Gellico's Punch was a pussy cat despite his fierce look. For some reason, he had taken to hovering over her in Gelli's absence, doing guard duty as per her instructions, no doubt.
"Where's Cheri?” Sol blew on the steaming tea that she didn't want. Butterflies danced in her hollow stomach at the thought of possibly seeing Gabe again. Why did just the thought of the commander wreck her normal stability?
Punch shook his massive head and looked unhappy. Sol knew the feeling well.
Cheri had rushed in nearly an hour ago and announced, “The Diplomatic Corps aboard the Treaty is requesting a landing site. I do hope Damien is on board.” The little dancer twirled on her toes, then rushed out again without waiting for Sol to say a word. No doubt, she was going back to the docks to meet her lover, the lusty Sergeant Damien.
Well, Soledad Scott would do no such thing—hanging around the space docks like a lovesick puppy, for gods’ sake. Besides, Gabe wasn't her lover. Was he? If not lover, what exactly was he? Sol fumed and paced the confines of the dancehall, waiting and wondering why Gellico hadn't returned from her trip to see Gabriel. And just why was he coming here instead?
"Captain Scott?"
Sol looked up into the steady gaze of a Marine major, a sandy-haired, averaged-height man with a solid build and no outstanding features except for serious gray eyes that assessed her without expression. For a moment, she didn't recognize Asher. The years had hardened the gray to steel and had deepened the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He was tanned and fit in his black and red officer regimentals. When recognition came, her heart stuttered.
"Asher Jones!” Sol broke into a smile at his broad grin, a grin she remembered so well. She leaped into his arms. Suddenly hugged in his strength, Sol found herself sobbing on his uniformed shoulder, although she had to bend her head to reach it. His remembered familiar scent surrounded her with comfort and such strength. How she had missed him.
"There, there.” He patted Sol's back. “What's all this? I thought you'd be glad to see an old buddy.” Red stained his cheekbones. Freckles peeked through his skin. “Bit of a change of command for you, isn't it?” He hugged her rounded girth with a gentle tightening of his arms.
Sol pulled back and nodded. “Yeah. I've became my own ship, you might say.” She patted her middle with a light hand. “I carry my new crew.” Her laugh ended her unexpected storm of tears with a sniff. Sometimes she surely felt as big as a war ship. And tears no longer obeyed her command.
Asher's smile died. “I'm Commander Merriweather's aide now, Sol.” His voice lost all hint of teasing. “He wants to see you. Would you come with me, please?” His question was more of an order and they both knew it, although Sol inclined her head politely. The command was from Gabriel, and Sol wanted to see him, too, the rat bastard. But she didn't mind the messenger. Asher was her friend, and it felt right to be with Marines again. She missed her ship and her Marines.
"What happened to the rest of the old crew?” She fell into step with him, hoping Asher knew about the others. For years, she had hoped for word of them, but none ever came.
"I don't know, Captain.” Asher's crisp tone said he gave her the title for more than friendship. He smartly marched at Sol's side with the smooth, practiced stride of someone always on the alert. And, just as always, his deadly cadence radiated power and efficiency. He had lost none of his expertise. His intense gaze never stopped searching the shadows. “None of us were ever assigned to the same ship. I've never seen anyone but you and Ms. de’ Marco again."
Sol knew the way the Guild worked. If they wanted the incident—such an embarrassment that no one had responded to the SOS sooner—on Hydra to remain quiet, the best way would be to reassign everyone with orders to never speak of the tale. She swallowed hard. They stopped before the door to Gellico's room. The major rapped once with the back of his knuckles.
Inside, Sol heard a break in the deep warble of male and female voices. She couldn't tell if an argument waged between the two.
"Enter. Door's open,” commanded a baritone voice Sol knew only too well. In a sudden flashback, she recalled the first time Gabe spoke those words to her. Her stomach's butterflies started dancing harder. What would he think of her new size, and just what was Merriweather doing in Gelli's room?
Sol stepped into the familiar room on strangely trembling legs. She glanced first at Gabe, dressed in his official somber gray with black-trimmed Diplomatic Corps uniform. She dismissed his silent assessing look with one of her own that promised she'd be back to him shortly. Her vision was full of Gellico, who looked so out of place in her safari room wearing the tight-fitting black Marine regimentals. Lethal weapons hung about Gellico's curves instead of her usual silk scarves.
Sol held her dark gaze. Her heart hammered in her chest like a trapped bird. “What in hell are you're doing, Gelli?"
"Protecting something that is precious to you?” Gellico snorted, and flipped a glittering curved knife that, just moments before, had been hidden on her person. Where she'd hidden it was hard to figure since the leather fit her generous curves like a snug glove. Gelli caught the sharp blade in midair with the smoothness of a master assassin. Another spun into view and joined the first to become twin curving death blades. Sol's butterflies grew as frantic as the twirling knives.
"You were supposed to convince him not to go on this mission.” Sol shook her head and scowled at Gellico with her fiercest frown. “Am I to understand by your new fashion accessories and your weapons’ demonstration that you're now going with him?"
"You got it in one, sweetie.” The blades disappeared back into their secret places, and Gellico reached a hesitant hand out to Sol. A tentative smile flickered over her lips—lips that trembled like Sol had never seen them. Sol shook her head and backed away, her palm raised in a stop position. Tears lay too close to the surface again. Anger came just in front of them. She spun back to Gabriel, the back of her neck on fire and her temples throbbing. “And you—diplomat,” Sol pointed a long finger at him
and spat his occupation like a curse. “You don't know what you're getting into on Hydra."
"Gellico told me all about Hydra.” Gabe used his smooth, peacemaking voice. His calmness irritated her. Well, she was having none of it.
"The hell she did,” Sol retorted. “I'm sure she didn't tell you all. Did she mention that she weighed only eighty-seven pounds when we pulled her out of that hell? Did she tell you of her repeated rape at the hands of those animals?” Those visions of a tortured Gellico haunted Sol with vivid recall. How her bony rib cage had stuck out like a skeleton's, and how her blood had wetly streamed down her battered body from her head to her heels.
"Did she tell you that half her hair had been ripped out of her scalp? How the bastards stood on her braids while they took turns going at her?"
Sol kept on spitting statements at Gabe, ignoring Gellico's soft cries of “stop” and “don't.” Gabe took hold of her shoulder but she kept shooting questions at him. “Did she tell you that she was barely standing and a bloody mess when we rescued her? How it took years for her to recover?” She shook off Gabe's grip, heedless of the tears that streaked her face. Her throat hurt. Her nose ran. She hated crying, and may the gods help the ignorant fool that had pushed her to this point. Gabe, the ignorant fool, reached for her again, and Sol slapped at his hands, but he ignored her and just held on. She gave up and glared at him. “How can you ask her to go back there?"
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