by Susan Grant
“It’s what we say on Earth when someone’s feelings are easy to read. Yours are to me…even when you think you’re hiding them.” He paused. “You still have secrets, though. Big ones. In time I’ll know what they are.”
He hadn’t meant to sound threating, but her mouth tightened in alarm. She dipped her head, obviously trying to hide her eyes now that he’d told her how easily he could read her.
He tucked his thumb under her chin and tilted her face up to his. “As soon as you’re ready to tell me,” he reassured her, his voice soft.
She gave him the barest of nods. “Know this, Ian. When I was with you this morning”—her cheeks colored—“in the meadow, I still thought of you as Ian Stone.”
“A simple black-market trader,” he said, moving closer.
“To me, that’s who you’ll always be.”
“Ah, Pixie…”
Their breath mingled, and his thumb stroked her lower lip. Then he dipped his head and kissed her.
After a brief hesitation, she slipped her arms around his waist. He remembered her eager determination in the meadow, but this was different. She kissed him with a soft, almost loving tenderness he found moved him even more. He smoothed his palms over her hips and sweet backside, pressing her closer. Sighing, she melted against him, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.
It’s only kissing.
No. It’s more than that. You’d be crazy to deny it.
A sound from inside the ship reminded him where he was and what he was doing. Breaking off their kiss he hugged Tee to his chest, afraid to let her see his face before he got himself under control. She’d claimed she preferred uncomplicated liaisons. Right. There was nothing uncomplicated about this woman.
“Get a little sleep,” he whispered into her ear. “I want you at least semi-conscious when you play the part of Randall while I practice what I’m going to tell him.”
She hunched her shoulders, reacting to his warm breath on her skin with a shudder. Sliding her hands from around his waist, she stepped out of his arms, her expression impish. “I will…because of all we have ahead tomorrow.” She backed away, but before she disappeared into the ship, she glanced over her shoulder. “There will come a night, though, Captain, when I won’t be so easily dismissed.”
The look she gave him promised things he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. It was deep into the night before he finally pushed them from his mind.
“Woo-hoo, Gann! I’ve got your quarry in my crosshairs!”
Lara breezed into the Quillie’s cockpit, bending to give the ketta-cat a cautious pat on the head before she stopped in front of Gann.
He put aside the palmtop he’d been using to review data they’d collected so far on the Dars’ runaway daughter. “I take it you had a fruitful afternoon in Padma City?”
Her eyes lit up with triumph. “I found her.”
“Here? Oh Padma?” The mission is complete; Lara Ros will be out of your hair and your life will go back to the way it was before. Odd, but the realization didn’t quite bring the cheer he had expected.
The tracker took off her jacket and tossed it over the back of her pilot’s chair. “No, not here. She’s on Grüma.”
“Grüma’s known for its trade in illegal goods, is it not?”
“The black market, yes. Hmmm.” She smiled. “I wonder what our spoiled heiress is selling. On the other hand, perhaps someone is selling her.”
Gann’s gut clenched at the thought. The princess was an innocent in so many ways. What if the darker elements in the frontier got to her before he could bring her to safety?
Lara rolled her eyes. “I’m joking,” she said.
He sat back in his chair, a smile of surprise curving his lips. Although the thought of the princess in illicit flesh trade was horrible, even a jest in poor taste was a breakthrough for Lara Ros. He said, “Oh. This is a memorable day, then—in more ways than one.”
Incredibly, she gifted him with her first genuine smile. He hadn’t made any headway in coaxing a kiss out of her, but then his quest had been subtle. Too subtle, he thought with an inner grin. Now that he’d gotten the first good smile out of her, perhaps it was time to make his intentions clear. A night of pleasure was definitely what they both needed.
Had he ever gone so long without me?
“I questioned a few merchants just in from Grüma,” she was explaining. “They say there’s an Earth dweller with a small crew there. He has two women in with him. One’s a Valkarian. The other is tall, thin, and a bit unusual-looking.”
“In what way?”
“Her hair is shorn off.”
Gann leaned forward, taking the bait. “Go on.”
“She wears an Earth-dweller cap most of the time to cover it. But one gentleman got a glimpse of what’s underneath. It’s green.”
“Green!” Gann exclaimed.
“Well, brownish green. But it looks really green in certain light, they say. One of the merchants remarked that it was a shame she had such awful hair, because she had the face of an angel. A purebred Vash Nadah angel.”
“That’s her. It has to be. You say the captain’s an Earth dweller?”
“Yes.” Lara plopped into the chair next to his. “Which means they might at any time head back to Earth.”
“Or any number of planets in between,” Gann speculated, frowning.
The silver bracelets on Lara’s wrist tinkled as she called up Grüma’s coordinates on the nav computer. “I can get us there in precisely”—she studied the data—“two-point-four standard days.”
Satisfaction swelled inside him. Lacing his fingers over his stomach, he reclined in his chair. “I’m in your hands, Lara. Let’s go get her.”
Instead of taking her seat, the tracker tucked the ketta-cat under one arm and mounted the ladder leading down from the cockpit.
Gann raised a brow. “What in blazes are you doing?”
“Putting the cat out,” she said and ducked out of sight.
By the time he caught up to the woman, she was standing at the top of the exit ramp, nudging the ketta-cat with her boot.
“I said, go on. Shoo.” The creature butted its head against Lara’s calves repeatedly until she finally relented and patted its back. Gurgling softly, it brushed at her trousers with one velvety paw. Lara plunked her hands on her hips. “It won’t leave.”
Gann smiled. “Apparently not.”
“I’ll bring it to the freighter next door. Surely its crew can use a ketta-cat to reduce the vermin population in their cargo holds.” But when she reached for the cat, it rolled onto its back. Clearly at a loss, Lara sighed.
“She wants you to rub her belly,” Gann said. He crouched down and stroked his hand up and over the animal’s warm, silky stomach. The cat writhed, wanting more. “Ah, here, too, eh?” he murmured, rubbing his thumb under its chin. The ketta-cat’s head tipped back and its purrs turned to snorts.
Gann said pointedly, “Notice that even this small creature knows that pleasure is heaven’s gift, a treasure to be shared and savored. See how she tells me just how to please her? I do like that.”
Lara made a small sound in her throat.
He glanced sideways. Her attention was glued to his hands. Her reaction pleased him; he enjoyed having discovered a way to circumvent her self-protective barrier.
He rolled the ketta-cat over and traced the bumps of its spine with his fingertips. Spreading the toes of its front paws, it arched into his hand, tilting its pelvis toward him.
He noticed Lara shut her eyes, color rising in her cheeks. “We have to leave,” she said. “Put it outside.”
All innocence, he asked, “Why? By now she considers herself part of the crew.”
Lara snatched the animal away and marched with it down the ramp. She lowered the ketta-cat to the ground. “Take advice from someone who’s been around the frontier awhile; you’re better off on your own.” She gave it a firm push, then she wiped her ha
nds and walked up the ramp.
Mewing, it trotted after her. “What is wrong with it?” She snatched the ketta-cat up off the ground, holding it in midair, inches from her face. “You know nothing about me. Yes, today I fed you. Tomorrow I might sell your mangy hide to a coat factory!”
The ketta-cat told her what it thought of her threat by rubbing its whiskered face against her smooth cheek.
“Bring her along,” he said. “How much trouble can one ketta-cat be?”
She glared at him. “This is your fault. The blasted thing’s become attached. I told you this would happen.”
“That’s what pets are supposed to do. Become attached.” He gentled his tone as he added, “People, too.”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “Attachment means dependence.” She spat the last word as if it were a filthy epithet. “Dependence is dangerous.”
She apparently remembered she was holding the animal. Shoving it at Gann she growled, “Get rid of it. I’ve got a preflight checklist to run,” then stormed back to the cockpit.
Gann shook his head at the ketta-cat. “She sure can be endearing at times, can’t she?” Apparently in agreement, the little creature darted up the ramp after her.
Lara waited until after they’d launched and were established in the space lanes before she turned in her chair to glower first at the ketta-cat, eating from a bowl on the floor, and then Gann. “You never listen to what I say.”
“I listen, Lara. But perhaps what I hear is the essence, the feelings behind your words.”
She made a sound of disgust. “Here we go. You Vash and your thinky-feely, listen-to-your-senses crap.” The ketta-cat jumped onto her lap. She sighed. “Now you’ve gotten its hopes up. It’ll think it’s found a home.”
“Hope. Another concept that you find dangerous. Like dependence?”
Her jaw tightened. “Gann,” she said past clenched teeth. “This discussion is not covered—”
“In your contract,” he finished for her. “Yes, I know. Regardless, I’d like to continue—off the official record.”
He stepped closer until he stood directly before her. “I suppose that if you expect the worst from others, then no one can disappoint you. Insulate yourself from disappointment and you don’t get hurt. Right, Lara? Is that your credo?”
She made a strangled sound in her throat, then she brought her fists to her eyes. His heartbeat faster; blood rushed through his veins. He sensed he was close to breaking through the mighty wall she’d erected, and he did not want to back down until he did. “I am curious,” he persisted. “Are your expectations of others as low? Or do you simply have none at all?”
With that, she slammed her fists onto her thighs. “Gann, you are a pain in the ass.”
Her directness delighted him. But the torment in her eyes emptied him of that amusement quicker than mog-melon wine from an upended uncorked flask.
“Lara,” he said quietly, surprised. “Your hands are shaking.”
She made a choking noise. “What’s your game, Vash? Do you want to know more about me? Is that what this is all about?”
“Yes.” He placed his hands over her cold, bloodless fists, warming them. “You knock me off-balance continually. I like returning the favor.” His fingers fanned out over her fists. “That, and I know you’re not what you appear to be.”
Whatever she was trying to say to him appeared to be a struggle. Finally she mumbled, “You’re not always what you appear to be, either.”
He smiled ruefully. “No, Lara. I’m not.”
She stared at their linked hands. On her face curiosity battled with constraint. Then, abruptly, she yanked her fingers out from under his. “I grew up on Barésh, a wretched, filthy place. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it.”
Gann searched his knowledge of the frontier. “It’s an asteroid. The Baréshti mines are located there.”
“That’s correct. It’s a place right out of the Dark Years. Centuries and centuries of backbreaking labor, isolation, and boredom have bred the Baréshtis into a population of cooperative drudges—except during their time off. For that, we have the virtual reality arcades…and the usual hallucinogenic drugs to heighten the experience. Of course some prefer the real thing; dangerous activities, near-death experiences.” Her mouth twisted bitterly. “Nothing like a little self-inflicted or dished-out pain to remind you that you’re not already dead.”
Her eyes hardened. “My father lost a leg in a mining accident. My mother took his place because they wouldn’t let him back into the caverns and we had to eat. A few years later, she was killed. A gas explosion, we were told.”
For a heartbeat Lara’s voice lost its hard edge, then her tone iced over again. “My father said he’d find me a cabin position on an intersystem cargo freighter. The salary I’d send back home would make up for the loss of my mother’s. I was drunk with anticipation.”
She pushed herself to her feet and walked to the sweeping forward viewscreen. “I’d always dreamed of flying, and he knew it. We Baréshtis worshipped the starpilots like gods. They were gods, I suppose, to us—we, who could never leave. But my father and I both understood that without money or influence to get me into flight school I’d have to start at the bottom and work my way up. I started at the bottom, all right. On a bed beneath a filthy swindler’s sweaty body.”
She halted, faced him, her mouth twisting bitterly. “My father sold me into sexual servitude. I was thirteen.”
It felt as if the floor dropped out from beneath him. He reached for her. “Lara…”
Her hand shot out, stopping him. She swallowed, twice. “I spent my teenage years as a receptacle for a man’s depraved fantasies. At mealtimes, the pig chained me to the leg of the table. Naked.” She searched his face for a reaction. “With a collar around my neck.”
He stood there, too stunned to move.
“One night he choked to death on a piece of meat,” she said breezily, a tone at odds with the rigid way she held her body. “After he tumbled off his chair, I used his key to unlock my collar. Then I helped myself to his ship and made it mine.”
She attempted to maintain the lighthearted tone, but it sounded false. “I learned to fly from what I’d read, watched, and heard. It wasn’t pretty, and I think I was in love with the autoflyer. And I didn’t attempt a landing for months. Finally, when supplies ran low, I learned to dock—fast.”
“I imagine you did. And then picked yourself up, dusted yourself off, and became the best blasted tracker I’ve seen in years.”
She shrugged, suddenly awkward. Gann sensed that she’d at first told her story wanting to shock him, but she’d finished craving the solace she hated to admit she needed.
He opened his arms. “All I want is to comfort you,” he explained, seeing her dismay.
“I don’t know, Gann.” She wrapped her arms over her small breasts. The bracelets adorning her wrists glinted in the starlight streaming across the cockpit viewscreen. “I don’t think I can respond in kind. Should you need me to.” Helplessly she added, “Should anyone need me to.”
“Of course you can.” He hadn’t realized before what he was up against. Now that he did, his heart went out to her.
“No. I’m…too closed up inside.” She pressed her fingers to her lips.
His insides twisted. “Lara, you are so full of fire, so full of life. Let yourself feel, let yourself heal. Otherwise you’re condemning yourself to a lifetime of loneliness.”
The moment dragged out, tense yet tender. Then, miraculously, her arms lifted. He captured her fingers and drew her close. Strangely, his need to hold Lara went beyond wanting to console her; they had shared something, something he struggled to define. Sure of only one thing he bent his head to taste her lips, but she stopped him.
“He never kissed me,” she said.
Of course the creature hadn’t kissed her, Gann thought, feeling ill. “But, afterward, after you’d escaped, didn’t you…Haven’t you…”
“Once. Years later. He
was a trader…I think. We went straight from the bar to bed, and I was so drunk he got right to business.” She shrugged. “After that, I thought, why bother?”
He’d been raised to celebrate lovemaking and the relations between the sexes. Lara’s outlook and experience were at utter odds with what he knew to be true. He pondered that, and the way she wore her mistrust of the Vash like a coat of armor. Great Mother. “He was Vash, wasn’t he?” he practically growled. “Your ‘keeper.’ ”
“Yes, a Vash.” Her mouth dipped in a sneer. “Raised to follow the Treatise of Trade, and to respect and revere women.”
“The man who abused you was an aberration, Lara. A monster. Sexual slavery is banned. It has been since the Great War.”
“Don’t be naïve. It still exists. Granted, perhaps only here and there in the frontier, a place you Vash somehow manage to exploit without involving yourselves in our welfare.”
Gann spread his hands on top of the narrow briefing table next to her, his mind wracked with dark images of Lara abused by a Vash whom he prayed would suffer for all eternity to pay for his cruelty.
A place you Vash somehow manage to exploit without involving yourselves.
Her accusation rang with a truth he couldn’t deny. “But the lawlessness and lower standard of living in the frontier stems from neglect, not malevolence,” he defended. “Rom B’kah, our new king, once described the Vash federation as an old quilt—the center tight, the edges frayed. He wants badly to bring the frontier into the fold. He’s been working to do so…”
“How?” she demanded.
Ian. The answer came to Gann in a rush: Rom’s stepson, a frontiersman himself. In choosing the young, contested heir, Rom had proven brilliantly his commitment to the peoples of the outer reaches. Ian would be the first ruler with blood ties to both the frontier and the Great Council. People on both sides would look to him for leadership. And once Ian was well established, no man would be better suited to lead the Federation into a new era where the quality of life in the farthest corners of the galaxy equaled that enjoyed in the central regions. Earth was the newest upcoming power in the area, and to right the wrongs in the frontier, the Federation needed that planet’s help.
