Dumbfounded, she stood in the narrow corridor while her mind whirled with this new information. Was he a doctor, a shipper, a thief, or a filch?
Just who was this man?
Unsure of what to think, she went to the bridge. Syn sat in the navigator’s chair where he was pulling up course information and coordinates.
Shahara headed for the captain’s chair. No sooner had she seated herself than she noticed the cut above his eye had reopened.
Absently, he brushed the blood aside while he scanned the electronic files.
“Here,” she said, pulling out her small handkerchief from the tiny pocket above her breast. “I can get it.”
She moved to his side.
As she brushed the thin, worn linen over his brow, she could feel his warm breath fall against her throat where it tickled, raising chills the length of her arm, tightening her breasts. He looked up at her with an unfathomable stare. One that hypnotized her.
Even with the bruises marring his face, she couldn’t lose sight of his handsomeness. And as she watched him, his gaze darkened with some thought she couldn’t name.
The handkerchief fell from her hand and she touched his roughened whiskers. They made him appear so rugged and raw, a far cry from the clean-shaven man she’d met just days before. Now he really looked like a dangerous criminal. Like a man who could steal her most private thoughts.
Her very soul.
She should be afraid of him and yet no part of her recoiled as she normally did when a man stood so close. He wasn’t groping or pulling. He just sat there, looking up at her as if waiting for something.
Suddenly she felt his hand at her waist. He trailed it up along her spine until he touched her cheek. Before she could react, he gently pulled her closer.
“So pretty,” he whispered an instant before he claimed her lips.
Shahara trembled at the foreign sensation. His lips weren’t demanding, they were asking. Gentle and kind, they teased her senses . . . whetted a hunger that she’d never known existed. Surrendering herself to her whirling emotions, she leaned into him and allowed him to pull her onto his lap.
Again he whispered his language to her and her body arched for the kisses he began to rain down the column of her throat. Throbbing heat assailed her. She wanted more.
Syn knew he should stop, but for his life he couldn’t pull away. It had been way too long since he’d last held a woman. And this one stoked his passions to the highest level imaginable. She was so brazen and yet so timid.
And her body tasted like honey and spice.
He moaned as she ran her hands through his hair, stroking his scalp. Running his hands over her spine, he felt her move against him an instant before her knee brushed against his bruised ribs.
Pain exploded, blotting out all the pleasure. He gasped in agony.
She tensed a moment before she jumped away. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
“Other than the fact that I feel like my rib just punctured a lung, sure, I’m all right.” He leaned forward, trying to shift the pain.
If he ever got his hands on Merjack . . .
And speaking of, it was probably a good thing she’d accidentally done that. They needed to get out of here. Quickly.
Hormones be damned.
Pushing himself up, he took a shallow breath to steady himself. “If you want to punch in coordinates, I’ll do the preliminaries and fire the engines.”
She nodded and took his vacated chair. Syn paused for a minute as he noted her reddened cheeks and swollen lips. His whiskers had burned a path all the way down her throat and, for some unknown reason, he liked that sight. Somehow it marked her as his.
Don’t even go there.
What was wrong with him? He knew better than to put any claim on a woman. He could never depend on one. Women lied and they betrayed.
The only one he could trust was himself.
She’s already looked at you like you were shit.
Yeah, but she also let him kiss her. Usually when a woman learned the truth about his past, she ran.
Don’t. You’re nothing to her and that’s all you’ll ever be.
With that thought in mind, he took the captain’s chair and prepared their launch.
Just as he was about to press the launch code, Shahara reached out and touched his arm. “Look.” She inclined her head toward the side window.
Looking over, Syn saw the Rits coming in to question the flight staff. “Stay calm. They won’t mark this ship. And we’ve already been cleared for the launch.”
“Are you sure they can’t make us?”
“The ship is registered under the name of Darling Cruel. They wouldn’t dare push that button.”
Shahara took a deep breath. He was right. The Cruels were renowned for their political power and wealth. No one messed with them unless they had a death wish.
Still, her heart didn’t stop pounding until he put the throttle down and launched them.
“If you own this ship, why is it registered to Darling?”
He gave her a droll stare. “I couldn’t very well run the business under my own name now, could I? Every half-wit moron in the galaxy would be after me.”
“Aren’t you afraid the Cruels will find out and get angry?”
His look was snotty and offensive. “Ryn and Darling are friends of mine and have been for a long time. It was actually Darling’s idea that I register my business assets under his name.”
“Why would he take such a risk?”
“What risk? Who in the universe would take his family on? For all they know, it is his business.”
She had to give him that. No one in their right mind would dare question one of the Cruels. “So how do you know him?”
He sighed irritably. “I knocked on his door one day and said ‘Hi, I’m here to rob you. Hope you don’t mind. Oh and by the way, will you be my friend?’ ”
“You don’t have to be so sarcastic.”
He gave her a lethal glare. “I’m getting tired of answering your questions. I swear you must have been trained as an interrogator.”
“Well, excuse me for being curious. I don’t have the benefit of knowing all about your family or friends. Caillen never mentioned you.”
“If you were trying to cut me with that remark, you missed. I made Caillen swear a long time ago that he’d never tell anyone he knew me. If anyone ever found out he was a friend of mine, his life wouldn’t be worth any more than that plastic ring on your hand.”
Shahara clenched her right hand into a fist. In spite of the hard shell she kept on her emotions, tears welled up in her eyes. Gritting her teeth, she blinked them away, angered that he’d been able to stab her there. She knew her mother’s wedding ring had no monetary value, but her mother had cherished it and to her it was priceless.
How dare he insult it so.
Syn saw the sadness that darkened her eyes and he was instantly contrite. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”
In an effort to distract her from the pain his thoughtless words had caused, he quickly asked. “So tell me, how did you find my apartment? It’s not registered under my name either.”
With a shake of her head, her eyes cleared. “I researched purchase orders.” She cleared her throat, then spoke louder, “I knew you flew a black Pritan fighter that was only a year or two old.”
He sucked his breath in as he cursed himself for that oversight. “I purchased it under my name.”
She nodded. “I cross-referenced the fighter’s serial numbers with a list of landing bays until I found the one where it was registered. Once I knew the location, it was merely a matter of asking people in the area if they knew anyone who answered to your description.”
Oh, I am an idiot . . .
But he had to give her credit. No one else had thought of that.
“Clever.”
“Some days more so than others.” She glanced back at the coordinates. “I take it your fighter is also registered to Darling?”
<
br /> “To another friend . . . as is everything I own.”
She cocked her head. “Aren’t you afraid one of them will betray you? Take it all away?”
Syn shrugged. “I’m sure one will eventually, but that’s the least of what keeps me up at night. Trust me, there are a lot worse things in life than losing a few credits.”
“Such as?”
“Strangling the older sister of one of your best friends because she can’t shut her mouth.”
Suddenly a warning light went off.
Shahara jerked toward her panel, afraid they were being attacked.
“You need to okay the course I just entered. Hit the approval sequence. The code is listed to your right.”
As she reached to comply, her gaze fell to their heading. All of a sudden she felt ill.
Very, very ill.
“We’re going to Rook?”
“Yeah, something about that bother you?”
She was aghast at his nonchalance. “Yes, it does. That is the most dangerous place in the universe. Are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind? We go there and we’ll be dead in three minutes.”
CHAPTER 7
Syn gave her a dry stare. “Quit being such a baby. I thought you’d been to the ‘worst parts of the galaxy in search of your targets’?” That last bit was said in a tone that mocked hers and it really pissed her off and made her want to throw something at him.
Reigning the impulse in, Shahara eyed him coolly. “I have, and I’m not being a baby. Only a complete waco goes to Rook.” Waco was an assassin’s term that meant walking corpse—something they used in reference to their targets which was exactly what she and Syn would be the moment they placed one foot on Rookish soil.
The people who called Rook home were the worst of the worst. There was no security, no enforcers, nothing but blood on the streets. Literally. Life on that planet had no value whatsoever—not that it had all that much in the rest of the universe, but . . . She’d heard of people there being butchered for their shoelaces.
And Syn looked completely unconcerned about it all.
Then again, he was related to the worst scum imaginable. To him the rest were just posers.
He swiped at the cut on his forehead, and grimaced at the blood on his fingertips before he wiped it on his pants leg. “Yeah, well, this corpse needs a resting place. So Rook it is. Maybe we should call head ahead and have them get our tombs ready. What do you think?”
Shahara grimaced at him. He was categorically insane—that was probably what the C.I. stood for. It had to be. “You have some severe mental problem I need to be aware of, don’t you?”
He flashed a half-dimpled smile that sent shivers the length of her body. When he continued, it was in a strange accent that sounded more than just a little too creepy. “Just because I eat babies for breakfast and pick my teeth with their bones doesn’t mean I’m nuts.”
She rolled her eyes. Given who his father had been, he probably shouldn’t be making jokes like that. No doubt that had been his father’s favorite delicacy. “Any other weird habits I should be aware of?”
“Just my need to dance naked in the streets under the light of a full moon.”
“I’ll make sure we wrap this up before the next full moon, then.” In spite of her words, a wonderful image of his naked body flashed in front of her open eyes. No matter how much it pained her to admit it, the man was gorgeous, and even beaten within an inch of his life, his body was hot. “Naked in the street, huh? Now there’s a sight I’d love to see.”
A wicked grin curved his lips. “Well I’m certainly up for a private viewing any time you want.”
“I wouldn’t be so cocky,” she said with a wicked grin of her own. “If my memory serves, the part of you that might be up to it will probably be the first part of you the inhabitants of Rook cut off.”
Shaking his head, he turned back around in his seat. “Hit the approval sequence.”
“All right, it’s your funeral.” But all kidding aside, there was a lump the size of a large asteroid that burned a hole in her stomach. She didn’t like the idea of stepping foot on a planet ruled by convicts, pimps and slavers. It was just too dangerous. Even for a seax.
She wasn’t afraid, merely cautious. And the one thing she’d learned early in her career. Arrogance kills. Never assume there wasn’t better out there and that it wasn’t coming for you.
Because the moment you were convinced of either one, it was over. End game.
Syn watched her from the corner of his eye. By the look on her face, he could almost hear her thoughts. Not that he blamed her. He hated the idea of crawling back to Rook, himself. It’d been decades since he’d escaped the dismal alleys and street gangs so violent his father would be proud of them. The hell that had once been his life. Years since he’d given much thought about his father’s old running buddies and the neighborhood that had birthed them both. He’d sworn long ago to put it all behind him.
Now he was crawling back like a wounded pup. And he hated that most of all. Nothing sucked more than having to face the worst part of his past.
Too bad he couldn’t go to Nykyrian. He knew his friend wouldn’t hesitate to help, but Nykyrian had problems of his own and the last thing Syn wanted was to bring another one to his door. Yeah, it was a great time to be wanted since most of his friends were in hiding themselves. As for Caillen. . . .
Yeah. . . .
No. He could handle this himself. As he’d always handled things.
Only this time he wasn’t on the run alone. He had to watch out for Shahara as well. Her presence should have annoyed him, yet for some reason it didn’t. Instead, it was almost comforting to know that if he didn’t make it, she’d be there to help.
Or would she?
Come on, Syn. Where’s your brain? What the hell makes you think she’d help you again? The only reason she came back for you was guilt over her sister and you were lucky she had even that much sympathy for you. Don’t count on that happening twice. You, my friend, are nothing to her. Nothing but a convict.
And Shahara hated convicts.
Sighing, he realized how true his thoughts were. He was just living an illusion like he’d done with Mara.
And just like Mara, Shahara would leave him behind without a moment’s hesitation, pausing only long enough to call the authorities on her way out the door.
He knew that as well as he knew that the Rits would kill him. So why did his mind betray him with thoughts of her? Her smell, her softness, even the little crease she got in her brow when she looked at him as if he were crazy—all were etched deeply in his conscious thoughts.
She was a beauty and he would give what little soul he had left for one night with her.
But that was a bullshit dream and he was tired of reaching for the stars, only to get body slammed by fate.
Resigned to the brutal reality of his life, he checked their settings.
Shahara felt Syn’s stare. Why was he watching her?
A quick glimpse told her it wasn’t anger.
So then what was it?
Some part of her she couldn’t name delighted at his attention. His eyes radiated heat to her and her body responded to him of its own accord.
Even now she could remember the feel of his skin, of his hands running over her body. Not since her teens had she dared think of a man other than her brother as anything but an enemy.
Now for the first time, she saw one as something more. Unbidden dreams resurfaced from the darkest corner of her mind. Dreams that tormented her with notions of a lover, of stripping his clothes from him and running her hands over his incredibly hard body until he begged her to stop.
But that wasn’t her. She’d iced her hormones a long time ago and it bothered her way too much that he was thawing them out with such ease.
“If you don’t mind . . .” Syn pushed himself up from his chair. “I’m going to lie down for awhile. I’ve set the autopilot. Let me know if we come up on anything unexpected.”
Her conscience reared its ugly head over her obvious spying. She didn’t care. She wanted to observe him without the weight of those dark eyes probing her as well.
And what better time than when he was sleeping . . .
She found him in the captain’s lounge. The room was large for a craft this size, and plush, with a double-sized cot mounted against the far wall. Syn headed straight for it and sat down. Grimacing in pain, he pulled off Caillen’s boots and tossed them aside before stretching out. With a deep sigh, he draped his arm over his eyes.
Caillen’s shirt was stretched taut over the broadness of his shoulders and with his arm lifted, the whole of his hard, washboard stomach was exposed. She stared at the bared flesh, wondering what it would feel like to rub her hand over the indentations.
Nip it with her teeth . . .
Syn was a commanding figure even while lying prone. Something innate in him warned of his deadly abilities. And though he wore the air of danger around him like a comfortable old shoe, he was also well-mannered and charming.
When he wasn’t being a smartass, anyway.
How she wished she knew his thoughts.
Or at least more about his past, which had to be horrifying.
His name, she thought all of a sudden, realizing that she still didn’t know what the C.I. stood for. She had so many questions and so few answers.
Most of all, she wondered what it would be like to call Syn friend. Her brother and sister seemed to find it easy enough. Why couldn’t she?
Because she’d been betrayed by everyone she’d ever trusted. Her father had been so obsessed with his inventions and schemes that he never paid any attention to her while he pursued them. He would promise her and her siblings time and then conveniently forget.
Or get frustrated when things didn’t work out and then he’d vanish for day or two to “get his head straight” while the rest of them were left to pick up the pieces.
Sherrilyn Kenyon - [League 02] Page 13
