“Vienna, take Derrick to his quarters and lock him in.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” Vienna said dryly.
Without a word, Derrick turned and stomped off toward his quarters, Vienna on his heels.
“You put your foot in it good this time,” Vienna muttered as they made their way down the hall.
“You almost sound concerned.”
Vienna was quiet.
Derrick glanced at her. Her face was creased in a worried frown.
Derrick scoffed. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’ll be the least bit sorry to see me transported or worse.”
Vienna sighed. “Believe it or not, Derrick, I like you. You’re a hard-headed jack ass sometimes, but you’re not a bad guy.” She shook her head. “You gotta learn how to use your words, though. If you’d just told Kyra how you felt, she wouldn’t have left.”
“What do you care?” he asked suspiciously. “You were the one telling her I wasn’t interested and I wasn’t good enough for her anyway.”
“I had no idea you were interested,” Vienna said hotly. “You have to admit, it’s completely unprecedented—and somewhat out of character. And she hardly seems like your type.”
“You don’t know nothin’ about my type,” he muttered, jamming his thumb against the door lock.
“Yeah, well, that goes back to that lack of communication skills we were talking about.”
He stepped into the room and turned back to her. She stood in the hall, framed by the doorway. She put her hands on her hips.
“No time like the present to start working on them; you have an hour until we’re back at port to come up with a damn good argument as to why Hunter shouldn’t drop you out the nearest airlock for pulling your gun on Harlan.”
The door swished shut.
Trying to convince Hunter was a lost cause. Derrick had no illusions on that point. Besides, all he could think about was Kyra. He paced the small space, unable to sit still, his thoughts going around and around. Hunter couldn’t very well throw him out an airlock while they were docked—even though Hunter had the right to maintain order however he saw fit when they were “out to sea,” while in port, his authority was superseded by Capital City authorities; throwing him out the airlock at that point would be murder, and Hunter would be in just as much trouble as Derrick. So that meant he intended to call the capital guard and have Derrick brought up on charges. Derrick would have a small window of opportunity to get off the Mercy and find Kyra before he got hauled away by the police.
Of course, Hunter could also opt to keep him on board until they were well clear of New Antigua and then throw him out the airlock. Hunter tended to resent Company bureaucracy and preferred a more hands-on approach to justice.
And that was only his first hurdle. If he did manage to get off the Mercy, he needed to find Kyra. She’d managed to survive this long without him, that was true. But still, there were an awful lot of things that could happen to a person all alone in the world. For instance, what if he hadn’t been there to get her back from the raiders? What then?
His gut clenched.
Even worse, she’d had her heart set on going to New Dominica. What had changed her mind so suddenly? A different kind of dread snaked through him at the thought that maybe he had crushed her dream. He couldn’t stand to think of her out there, alone and despondent, that sweet, hopeful look in her eyes snuffed out.
No, he didn’t believe that. She’d been fine last night. So just what had set her off? The obvious culprit would be Vienna and her insistence that he didn’t feel anything for Kyra, but would that really make her jump ship and go running off? Kyra herself had said she didn’t see a future for them, so why would Vienna saying it set her off?
He paced back and forth, his thoughts going in circles. It seemed much longer than an hour until the thrust engines powered down and he could hear the grinding of metal that signaled they were docking. He frantically searched his quarters for anything he could use to try and pry the door open or short circuit the control panel. Once they were docked, it would take Hunter only a few minutes to get from the pilot house to the airlock. Derrick just needed to wait five or so more minutes until Hunter was well clear of the transport hanger and then he could make a dash for it.
The door swished open behind him. Derrick whirled around. Ivy stood there, grinning. “Hunter just left.”
“Ivy, what are you doin’? Hunter will have you up on charges, too.”
Ivy’s grin widened. “You’re welcome.”
Derrick hesitated, not wanting Ivy to get in trouble. He’d already made a big enough mess out of everything. “Ivy—”
“Time’s wasting!” she said blithely, clearly not intending to brook any argument about her assistance.
He shot her a grateful look. “I owe you!” He took off at a run.
“Go get her, lover boy!” Ivy called after him as he dashed down the hall to the airlock.
He rushed off the Mercy, across the hanger bay, and out onto Main Street. Then he stopped short. He had no idea where Kyra might have gone. Harlan had said she’d gotten a job. Capital City was a big place. And for all he knew, she might not even be on the station still. It had been two hours since they maneuvered out to the slingshot lane and then had to turn around and come back. Two hours was a long time—she could be anywhere by now.
He groaned, and panic flashed through him. He spied an information kiosk across the street and took two steps toward it. The he saw a familiar figure hurrying down the street toward him, and he stopped in stunned surprise. He just stared as Kyra came to a halt in front of him, a worried crease marring her forehead.
“I got a message from Harlan that the Mercy was having trouble and was returning to port. Is everything okay?”
He could only stare at her, dumbfounded, unable to form coherent words. His eyes raked over her, making sure she was okay. She appeared to be fine—not worried or upset, just confused. Hell, she didn’t even seem to have a curl out of place. A flash of annoyance sparked within him. What right did she have to look so calm when he’s just spent the last two hours in knots?
“Where the hell have you been?” he asked.
She blinked at him. “What do you mean?”
“What in the hell do you mean by running off?”
Kyra blinked at him with that same guileless look that made his insides twist with a combination of exasperation and desire.
“Run off?” she exclaimed. “I didn’t run off. I got off!”
“What in the hell for? And without so much as a ‘by your leave?’” His shouting was attracting a crowd, but he didn’t much care. Kyra seemed to, though. She looked around furtively, and her cheeks grew pink.
He bit back a snarl of exasperation and grabbed her by the arm. She yelped in surprise, but he ignored her. He tugged her back into the docking bay, through the airlock, and up the ramp to the Mercy so they could talk in private. Once in the cargo bay, he dropped her arm and crossed his arms over his chest. He glared down at her. “Well? Why’d you run off?”
Kyra had the decency to at least flush in embarrassment. She lowered her eyes and scuffed a toe on the floor. “I…” She sighed and peeped up at him, her eyes wide with dismay. “I’m sorry, Derrick,” she said softly. “I… I’m not like you. I can’t just… well… I like you.”
She said this last part like it was something shameful. His brow furrowed. What was so terrible about liking him?
She looked down again. “When I saw you with that woman… I… I was jealous.”
Her shoulders heaved like she was about to cry. His confusion deepened, and he frowned down at the top of her head, which was all he could see because she was refusing to look at him.
“And I knew if I stayed, well, I was going to make an idiot of myself mooning over you. And I knew you wouldn’t much like that. You already think I’m annoying and a hopeless klutz. And then I saw that dining services was looking for a cook and there was never any guarantee I was going to find work in
New Dominica anyway, and I thought about what you said about it not being so great there if you’re poor, so I decided to stay here.” She shrugged again, her head still bowed.
Derrick wasn’t sure if he was exasperated or relieved. At least he hadn’t been wrong about her being willing to entertain the possibility of staying on the Mercy. And she admitted she liked him; she’d even been jealous of seeing him with another woman. Those things gave him hope that he hadn’t been too far afield in thinking she might stay if he asked her to. But, damn it, why did she think he wouldn’t like her being interested in him? His feelings for her should have been abundantly clear. He’d practically followed her around the ship every second of the day for weeks—he’d taken to hanging around the kitchen so he could talk with her. He’d coaxed her into taking meals in the dining room so they could share them together. When he’d finally gotten her in to bed with him, he’d made love to her half the night. And then laid down and slept beside her on that God-forsaken narrow and hard bed. Hell, he’d risked his life—and gotten shot—rescuing her from raiders—in direct violation of an order. Now he’d gone and thrown away his career and his future by turning mutineer just so he could go after her. What more did she want?
He couldn’t keep a spark of anger out of his voice. “Are you slow or somethin’?”
Kyra’s head snapped up. She looked at him in shock mixed with hurt. “Well… no, I don’t think so…”
“I just committed mutiny to come and fetch you. I pulled a gun on my captain and the closest things I have in this universe to friends, to come back—for you.”
“Oh.”
Oh? That’s all she could say? Either she didn’t grasp the importance of what he was saying to her or she didn’t care. He wanted to shake her.
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small box. “I assume the woman you’re referring to is Jezzie. I went to ask her for a favor—to pull some strings as she’s got contacts high up in the Company—and get a new position, a cook, added to the Mercy roster.” In case Kyra was still confused, he added, “For you.” He thrust the box at her. “And to buy this.” Engagement rings were old-fashioned, a by-gone practice long since fallen by the wayside, but it was one of those things people from First Worlds did. He’d seen the way she’d admired the clothes and jewelry and cosmetics in the market. There wouldn’t be much of that kind of stuff if she stayed with him, but life wouldn’t be grim. He wanted her to know there could be indulgences and occasional luxuries as well.
She was still staring at him as if she didn’t understand what he was even talking about.
He thrust the box at her again. She hesitantly took it, her eyes dancing back and forth between his face and the box as if she thought maybe something horrible was going to jump out of the package. Slowly she removed the cover and then blinked down at the shiny silver-colored band that lay inside.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” He couldn’t hide his surprise. That wasn’t really the reaction he’d expected. But then, he hadn’t really thought this entire thing through. He’d only thought as far as buying the ring and giving it to her. He’d sort of just thought he’d hand it to her, much like he was doing, but now he realized maybe he should have presented his case a little better. Vienna was right; he needed to use some words. Only, he wasn’t quite sure which ones to say. Kyra wasn’t looking very excited at the moment. He wasn’t sure what he could say to change that fact.
Softly, he said, “Life out here ain’t so bad if you have the right person to share it with.”
Kyra was staring down at the ring, her face hidden by a curtain of hair. She was very still, and she wasn’t saying anything. Derrick’s heart sank. Crap. She wasn’t the slow one—he was. He’d been mooning over her for weeks, building up a fantasy in his mind in which she would opt to set aside all her fancy dreams and stay with him. He must be an idiot; why would she choose life with him aboard the Mercy when she was set for grander things? When she’d told Vienna there wasn’t much future for them, he’d thought she was stating an obstacle to be overcome. But that weren’t it at all; she’d been politely trying to say he wasn’t good enough for her.
“Well,” he said, shifting uncomfortably, “it were only an idea.”
He reached out to pluck the box from her, acutely aware of the fact that Ivy, Vienna, and Harlan had slipped into the cargo bay at some point. He’d just up and made a damn fool of himself in front of everyone. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Hunter did space him.
Kyra yanked the box away from him, hugging it to her chest. The movement pushed her hair aside enough for him to see tears tracking down her cheek.
“Are you cryin’?” he asked, incredulous. Was a marriage proposal from him really that horrifying?
“I’m ssssoorry,” Kyra said with a hiccup.
“Christ,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Pat her on the back? Apologize? Leave and let her cry in peace?
She still clutched the ring to her chest, holding onto it as if for dear life. He started to turn away, heading for… God only knew where to nurse his wounds in private. He paused; something didn’t quite make sense. If she were crying because she was upset he’d asked her to marry him, she’d have handed the ring back. Instead, she’d refused to let him have it. Which meant…
She wasn’t refusing his proposal.
Hope flared wildly inside of him.
“Uh, just so we’re all straight,” he said cautiously. “Are you at all maybe sayin’ yes?”
She started crying harder, full on gasping sobs, and nodding her head. Vigorously.
It was as if he’d been balanced on the very edge of a precipice on the verge of tumbling over and someone had yanked him back at the last second just. Relief flooded through him, and he sagged limply. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in tight. She came willingly and buried her face against his chest. His heart thudded against his ribs—the realization of just how close he’d come to losing her pushed out all other thoughts, sending a wave of panic through him. He tightened his grip on her, and the panic faded, replaced by a sense of rightness. She belonged here, with him.
Kyra hadn’t stopped crying; in fact, it didn’t seem like there was going to be any end to the tears. He shifted his weight awkwardly, acutely aware of Ivy, Vienna, and Harlan still watching them from the other side of the room. “Aw, come on now, this is my only clean shirt.”
Instantly, Kyra’s sobs stopped, and she let go of her grip on his shirt. She looked abashed and stepped back. “I’m sorry,” she said, peeking up at him through her thick, dark lashes.
He was instantly sorry for the loss of her softness and warmth. He’d never been much for hugging and the like, but there was something to be said for the feel of holding Kyra in his arms.
He knew he didn’t have the right to ask her to marry him any longer, not when he’d just upped and thrown away his future, but he wanted to hold on to this feeling for as long as he could—before reality came crashing back down. He reached out and plucked the ring from the box, then grabbed her left hand. “You gonna put this on, then?”
She smiled at him and nodded.
He couldn’t stop one side of his mouth from curling up as he slid the ring onto her finger. “And you ain’t never gonna take it off, right? Nor run off again?”
“I didn’t run off!”
“Uh huh,” he said. And then he was done with words because he didn’t much know what else to say and besides she didn’t much seem to be understanding what he was saying anyway. He tangled a hand in her hair, cupped her head, and pulled her to him as he’d fantasized about doing. He brought his mouth down on hers, hard and demanding. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d full on kissed a woman and the heat of it, the blissful agony of it, took him by surprise. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, pushing all of his possessive need for her into the kiss. Kyra made a sound, a cross between a whimper and a moan, that reached down through him
to his gut and jerked him to attention. He was instantly hard.
He’d always bedded women the same way he approached everything—cool, detached, methodical. Bu now that detachment went right out the window. He wanted to bury himself inside her over and over until she screamed his name in ecstasy.
Distantly, he heard Harlan, Vienna, and Ivy cheering.
He jerked his mouth away from her, breathing hard, trying to clamp down the desire raging through him. All this was for naught if he couldn’t square things with Hunter.
Kyra’s eyes were wide, her cheeks tinged with pink, her lips swollen and rosy. “What?” she asked breathlessly. “Why’d you stop?”
Derrick grunted with satisfaction. So, she was as aroused as he. Good.
“I gotta talk to Hunter, set things right with him.”
“Oh.” A pause and then, “Oh!” Her expression changed to one of concern. “Is everything going to be okay? Do you want me to talk to him?”
“I don’t need you to fight my battles, Kyra.” Then, because he was afraid he’d been too harsh, he turned her around, pointing her toward the passenger quarters, and playfully swatted her butt. “Go wait for me in my room. This shouldn’t take too long.”
Kyra looked at him over her shoulder, a playful smile on her lips. “You want me naked, on your bed?”
There it was again—that irresistible mixture of sweet and sinful. Another flare of lust sizzled through him. “Well, yeah,” he said, though it came out almost as a growl.
Kyra laughed.
The thought of her splayed out on his bed without a stitch on was making it difficult to think about anything else. The sooner he talked to Hunter, the better. At the very least, maybe Hunter would let him have one last night with Kyra, in lieu of a last meal, before he turned him over to the authorities.
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