Daggertail

by Kaitlin Maitland

  Xave growled something unintelligible without looking up.

  Tavish managed a nod, trying to straighten her appearance as discreetly as possible.

  “You could probably use some food.” One side of Lola’s mouth quirked upward. “And maybe a fresh change of clothes? I can’t imagine Xave let you have time to pack a bag or anything.”

  Tavish cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

  Lola motioned her down the ramp. “C’mon then, follow me.”

  Xave continued to rummage about the cabin of the Daggertail, not even sparing her a glance. Deep down, Tavish had known their acquaintance would be short, but now it was obviously over, and a brief sense of internal panic descended. Xave might not think much of her, but he was the only one she knew outside of Fat Louie’s.

  Tavish tossed one last hopeful look over her shoulder. Unfortunately, he was either consumed by his work or ignoring her on purpose. Squashing down her disappointment, she carefully navigated the ramp in her awkward, strappy heels.

  Lola tilted her head to one side. She kept looking at both Tavish and Xave in turns, a strange expression creasing the smooth skin between her arched eyebrows.

  “Keep that stare of yours to yourself, Lola,” Xave growled. “And mind your own business for once.”

  Lola’s cobalt eyes narrowed, and she shot a frown at Xave’s broad back. “C’mon, Tavish. I’ll drop you at Meddac while I find you some fresh clothing.”

  “I really don’t need any medical attention.”

  “Warrick insists, which pretty much means you’ve got no choice.”

  Resigned, Tavish left Xave and the Daggertail behind to follow Lola through an air lock into a massive, sprawling structure.

  “Don’t fall behind, honey. The place is one big maze with no prize in the middle.”

  Tavish wrapped her arms around her body. The corridors of the Stone Cold Bondsmen’s base were freezing and dimly lit, though clean and free of the usual clutter she was used to seeing inside Fat Louie’s. She lost track of how many twists and turns Lola made before she stopped in front of a wide, double-paneled doorway.

  “I’ll just let Doc know we’ve arrived.” Lola pressed a red button beside the door.

  Tavish yelped in surprise when the image of a woman dressed in a vintage nurse’s uniform popped up in front of the door.

  “S’okay,” Lola said. “It’s just Doc. Warrick’s a big fan of programming his holos in outdated Earth fashions. This one’s from the early part of the twentieth century. He swears it was a sexy look, but I can’t see how stiff white skirts and ugly shoes could possibly be attractive. So I figure it’s all part of his questionable sense of humor.”

  Tavish felt silly, but she couldn’t shake the edgy feeling that her life had changed right before her eyes.

  Of course it had changed. Had she ever thought to leave Fat Louie’s in anything other than a funeral transport? Yet here she was on another planet after being hijacked by some strange bondsman who seemed to have scruples. Who’d have ever thought? Certainly not Tavish.

  “Doc is our holographic doctor,” Lola said. “She’ll run a few scans and treat whatever pops up while I find you fresh clothes and get you some breakfast.”

  Tavish knew what a holographic doctor was, and she knew Lola was just trying to help her relax. But the fact that Tavish felt like a lost child wasn’t Lola’s fault.

  It’s Xave’s fault. He’s the one who picked me up out of one life and dumped me into another.

  The hologram shimmered, her slender hand gesturing to the doorway. “If you’ll just step inside, I’m certain this will be quite painless.”

  Tavish followed Doc’s odd voice through the sliding doors of the medical wing. She’d heard all manner of holographic images speak, but Doc’s electronic voice sounded more human than the others. She could only imagine the credits spent on such a program.

  “If you’ll just disrobe, I can begin the initial scanning process.”

  She glanced around. Doc had led her into a semiprivate cubicle. She could still see the larger laboratory area with its softly whirring machines bleeping in time with a myriad of flashing colors. Beyond that, the medical wing seemed to be an endless maze of rooms like any hospital.

  The expression on Doc’s face, if you could imagine a holographic image to have an expression, was patient. With a soft sigh, Tavish dropped her bedraggled topaz dress to the floor.

  The cool air raised instant gooseflesh on her body. The hair on the back of her neck lifted, and she became aware of another presence in the room. Her nipples snapped into hard peaks, and she crossed her arms over her chest to keep them under wraps.

  Doc’s eyes lifted to acknowledge a massive man who looked mean enough to melt granite with one scowl. His bleached hair was cropped close on the sides, darker at the roots and white-blonde at the ends, which stuck up as though he styled them by repeatedly stabbing his fingers through them. He stared at her from beneath dark brows with emotionless metallic eyes that swept her nude body from head to toe.

  Tavish attempted to cover both her breasts and the narrow strip of short pubic hair between her legs at the same time. The electronic scanner leads found purchase on her skin, one just over her heart to keep track of her pulse, and the other a prick on her left arm to take blood. She gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to lash out. One look at the man’s bland expression showed his amusement at her bid for modesty.

  Why did people assume that just because she sold her body for credits, she was comfortable being ogled any time or place? And she thought Xave was a smug bastard.

  “And you are?” She notched her chin a bit higher.

  “Warrick Stone.”

  How nice. She was buck naked in front of the owner of Stone Cold Bondsmen. One of the most feared and respected men in the galaxy now knew the color of her pubic hair.

  The machine beside her squawked. A robotic arm descended from the ceiling and did a quick scan of her extremities. Doc’s demeanor shifted slightly, her form taking on a reddish hue.

  “Results as expected, Doc?” Warrick asked in his smooth, emotionless voice.

  “Precisely.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Tavish snapped. “Did you expect I’d be some intergalactic petri dish of STDs? I get scanned once a month for that shit. I’m clean!”

  Warrick shifted stance, crossing his arms over his massive chest. “To use an old cliché, I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m aware of the regulations governing the care of prostitutes in Alliance-occupied sectors.”

  “Then what did you expect? What standards did I fail to meet?” She hated the insecurity in her voice, hated feeling less than human, as if she deserved nothing better than to be fucked and tossed aside like waste ready to be jettisoned into dead space.

  Warrick’s expression changed, a subtle shift she would never have seen had she not been so used to reading body language. “Were the skin grafts monthly as well?”

  “What?”

  “The scans show uncounted skin regens on various portions of your anatomy.”

  She pulled her lower lip into her mouth and bit down, hard.

  “Damaged goods don’t sell.” Warrick’s voice was dreadfully soft. “Skin regens can hide abuse and injury from sight, but nothing hides from a full med scan. That’s what I meant when I said ‘results as expected.’”

  Years of suppressed anger whirled inside her until her head pounded with the pressure of a million thoughts unspoken. Emotions seethed unchecked. Her face flushed hot, and her skin twitched. The scanner gave a shrill bleep as her heart rate skyrocketed. “Did you have something else to add?” Warrick’s cool, detached tone made her want to clip the scanner leads to his balls and turn the machine to high. But she’d been biting back her opinions for so long that her brain no longer attached words to the things she felt inside.

  “No, sir.”

  “Doc will attend to the bruise on your ribs. Lola should have returned by then. She’ll show you to your quarters.
There will be fresh clothing and food waiting for you.”

  It killed her to say it. “Thank you.”

  Chapter Four

  “Dare I ask how you got yourself into this particular situation?”

  Xave grunted and continued to clean the blood from his whip. The silver daggertail was one of the deadliest weapons in his arsenal, as well as a personal favorite. But cleaning bloody tissue from the links was a hell of a job.

  “I suggest a more explanatory response, Xavier.”

  “If I hadn’t taken her with me, they would have killed her.”

  “I see.”

  Xave lifted his gaze from the serrated links. “She got caught trying to help me.”

  “Help you?”

  “Mendez was running. She made herself into a human trip wire.”

  Warrick made a noise in the back of his throat that could’ve been interpreted as anything. Though Xave had been with Stone Cold Bondsmen for what he considered a lengthy period of time, Warrick was still an enigma. The man was totally unreadable. The calmer he seemed, the more likely he was to be irritated. And the things Xave figured would totally piss him off seemed not to faze him in the least.

  It was damned aggravating.

  “Doc is tending to her bruised ribs,” Warrick said.

  Xave bit back a string of curses. He couldn’t ask about her. He had no desire for Warrick to read too much into his obvious interest in her welfare.

  Besides, the last thing she needed was a guy like him. The poor kid had to be young, to say nothing of the kind of life she’d led tied to a place like Fat Louie’s. He could hardly deal with his own demons on a daily basis; she didn’t need him dumping his battered psyche in her lap. He couldn’t even reason out what drew him so forcefully to her in the first place.

  Warrick crossed his arms and leaned against a locker full of neatly stacked rows of electrocartridges. “What did you propose to do with her once you brought her to base?”

  “I dunno.” Xave reached past him and grabbed a few cartridges to replenish his supply. “You’ve got connections on Hyperion 4. Find her a job somewhere.”

  “That’s where you’re confused, Xavier. This is not my problem. This is your problem.”

  “Who’s got a problem?” Lola asked as she strode through the doors of the armory.

  Xave wanted to groan out loud.

  Warrick passed her a meaningful look. “Is Tavish settled in?”

  “As well as can be expected.” Lola chuckled. “She sure as hell didn’t know what to make of you, Warrick. Doc’s the hologram. Try to remember that next time.”

  Xave began to get the feeling he was being blindsided somehow. He stifled the urge to pelt Lola with questions and checked his supply of flash grenades instead.

  “I assume you’re going to continue tracking Mendez?” Warrick prodded.

  “I consider this no more than a detour.”

  “Our intel indicates he’s still somewhere on Janus 5.”

  “Gee, that narrows it down.” Xave just managed to keep his lip from curling in disgust. “Why is the Alliance so interested in this guy? He looks about as dangerous as a basketful of kittens.”

  “As I recall, kittens scratch. But in this case the danger comes from his talent as a communications whiz. Mendez intercepted transmissions on the Alliance network.”

  Xave contemplated the oddity of the kitten comment coming from some like Warrick. But kitten or tiger, his point still stood. “None of that merits the price on his head.”

  “He intercepted extermination orders that authorized the wholesale slaughter of nearly two dozen colonies. We both know there were more, but this proof is a place to start searching for the truth.”

  Xave froze, blood pounding in his ears. “He kept a record of the transmissions?”

  The heat of Warrick’s gaze burned right through Xave’s skin. This was what had brought him to Stone Cold and Warrick in the first place, the proof he’d been tracking through the systems his whole life, and he’d let it slip through his fingers because of Tavish.

  “This is why I want him brought in alive, Xavier.”

  “I understand.”

  “Drake and Fulton are standing by. They’ll deploy on your order.”

  “I work alone.”

  Warrick’s face twisted with smug amusement. Xave didn’t even want to think about why.

  Satisfied with the contents of his pack, he pulled on his duster. The dark, synthetic material helped him blend into the shadows. He could’ve used his Image Interrupter Device to alter his appearance any way he wanted, but the IID wreaked havoc with some of his heightened senses.

  “Are you heading out now?” Lola’s long braid shifted as she tilted her head.

  “No need to waste any more time than I already have.”

  Warrick reached out and blocked the doorway with an arm. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Xave realized where the conversation was headed. “Forget it, Warrick. I just told you I work alone. If I didn’t want Drake and Fulton slowing me down, why the hell would I want a woman?”

  “You were going to leave without her?” Lola demanded.

  Warrick’s lip curled into what would’ve been amusement in any other man’s expression. “It doesn’t matter what he intended, Lola. Xavier is taking her with him, whether he wants to or not.”

  Xave ignored the satisfied look on Lola’s face, swung the pack over his shoulder, and left the armory. Damn her and her precognitive feminine intuitions. No doubt she’d been telling tales on him to Warrick.

  He didn’t care. Lola could think what she wanted. This attraction to Tavish was nothing more than the basic needs of a man who’d gone too long without burying his cock in a willing pussy. It had nothing to do with emotions and feelings and all that crap Lola constantly harped on.

  Of course, if that were true, why hadn’t he taken her up on her offer? Why hadn’t he taken her up on the freebie?

  He reined in his lustful thoughts. Tavish had been through too much in her short years already. She was off-limits.

  He turned down the corridor a few yards away from his room in the bondsmen’s barracks. Still arguing with himself, Xave didn’t notice the distinctive scent until he was only two doors away.

  One of these days, Lola would push someone too far with her meddling.

  Xave inhaled deeply. One of the first things he’d noticed about himself as a child was his uncanny ability to perceive, separate, and identify smells. Some of them had stuck with him for years. This particular scent had burned itself into his brain after only a few hours.

  She smelled sexy, sweet, and maybe a little bit wild, like the exotic hybrid lilies his mother had grown in the hothouse behind their homestead. People said scents had labels, things like roses or mint, ginseng or lemon. Xave’s heightened senses didn’t work like that. He could distinguish between things like courage and cowardice, hunger and fear. Even a lie had a certain smell to it.

  He ignored the urge to knock on his own door. Pushing it open, he ducked inside and tossed his pack on the floor to the left of the entrance. Glancing around, he noted the remains of a meal tray on his desk. He caught a whiff of avocado and tomato with tempeh. There were also remnants of salad greens. Apparently Lola liked her. With most of their specialty fruits and vegetables shipped in monthly from the Helix system, Lola tended to be stingy with the good stuff. He found mostly brussels sprouts and cabbage on his trays.

  “Oh! It’s you.” Tavish emerged from the tiny bathroom with one of his towels wrapped around her head and another barely covering her from breasts to buttocks. Water still beaded on her creamy skin, sliding into her cleavage and disappearing from sight.

  His cock stirred to life beneath the buttons on his dark pants.

  “You don’t sound happy to see me.”

  She reached up and unwound the towel from her head, using it to wring water from her thick hair. “It’s not that. I just never expected to see you again.”

 
He took several steps toward Tavish. The way her breasts jiggled beneath the towel each time she dabbed at her hair drove him daft. His cock strained against his pants, throbbing in time with his increased heartbeat. He had to resist the urge to reach down and palm his erection into a better position. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to that part of his anatomy than he had to.

  Sudden realization dawned on her face. “This is your room.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Kovuchenko. Lola said it would be fine to shower. I know the water on Hyperion 4 is rationed, but she said not to worry about it.”

  Mr. Kovuchenko? So she wasn’t going to let him forget his slipup? So be it.

  “Just give me a minute to change into my clothes. Lola must’ve misunderstood or something. I’ll ask her to assign me a new room. Sorry. I know I’m… You’re staring, and it’s making me nervous.”

  Her scent said as much. He inhaled lightly. Sweet, sultry Tavish, with a hint of something new, something beneath the nerves.

  Arousal?

  Heat suffused his body. The only thing standing between them in the small room was the bed.

  He stepped around the side of the bed, heading in her direction. She sucked in a deep breath, and her breasts rose, nipples peaking against the worn fabric of the towel. The threadbare white material almost allowed Xave to see the dusky hue of each puckered areola.

  “Did either you or Warrick have any ideas about a place I might find work around here?”

  Xave barely registered the fact that Tavish was still talking. “You won’t be working around here.”

  “Why not? There have to be a few brothels around somewhere.”

  “There are more than a few.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Xave didn’t answer. He was too preoccupied with her body. The way her endless legs joined gracefully to the soft flare of hips that peeked around the edges of the too-small towel. The way her perfect breasts swelled into the svelte curves of her shoulders and neck. Xave noticed a tiny mole beneath her right earlobe.

  The rational side of his brain fought to be heard over the clamor of his cock. He knew a reason he wasn’t supposed to touch this woman. Something to keep him from this beautiful creature who looked and smelled like his perfect match.