by Susan Hayes
A door opened somewhere behind him, and two sets of footfalls announced he was no longer alone. “Why are we waiting for him to wake up? Why not just shoot him full of that shit and call it a day?”
That didn’t sound promising.
Dante forced himself to keep his head down, relax, and slump against the restraints despite the pain. For now, it would be best if they thought he was still asleep.
“Because he was dosed with enough sedative to drop a Nantari rhino, and even so, it took five men to take him down. Remember what happened to the overdose victims?” The second speaker sounded older, and his unaccented words indicated that whoever he was, he wasn’t local.
“They blew up like a supernova and started tearing into anyone or anything around ‘em.”
“I’d like to avoid having that happen again. Since I have no idea what would happen if I give him the neuro-enhancer before the sedative leaves his system, we’re going to wait a little while longer.”
Neuro-enhancer? That sounded like corporate-speak for cobalt. If they had some here, then maybe getting his ass kicked would be worth it, after all.
“Got it. Can we at least do the rest of the procedure while we’re waiting?” the first man asked.
“Your impatience is going to be your downfall. Rushing leads to mistakes, and mistakes are messy. The people I answer to do not like mess.”
“I keep telling you, we didn’t mess up the Boundless assault. How was we supposed to know the street rats would help them doctors?”
“If you’d taken more time to watch and plan, you would have discovered the connection.”
There was a rattle as several items were set out on what sounded like a metal tray, then the lights in the room brightened. A moment later, a pair of well-worn boots appeared in Dante’s limited field of view. “If we hurry, we can do this while he’s still out.”
“And again, you rush headlong through life so quickly you missed the signs. Our guest is already awake.”
There was movement behind him, a rustle of fabric, a soft footfall, and then a searing pain on the side of his neck. He snapped his head back, hoping to connect with something breakable like his assailant’s nose, but he hit nothing but air.
“Trying to get a few more licks in before the end?” The one with the cultured voice stepped around to show himself for the first time. Well, most of himself. His face was obscured by a privacy screen that distorted his features. Black market tech—rare and expensive.
Everything else Dante could see of his captor spoke to one thing—money. His all black clothing was understated but tailored to fit him perfectly, and his shoes were polished to a gleaming shine. His hair was blond and cut in a military style, but nothing else about him suggested he was a soldier.
The man’s neat and tidy appearance was a vivid contrast to the room they were in. It was grimy and worn, with a dirt floor, and a few opened crates with strange markings that might have been an alien language or an unfamiliar corporate logo.
“Who the fraxx are you and what did you do to me?” Dante snarled. All he had to do was buy enough time for his team to reach him.
The man gave an eloquent shrug of his shoulders. “I suppose manners would be too much to expect given the circumstances.”
Dante bared his fangs. “Ya think?”
“You back off, or I’ll pull those fangs of yours out of your head and wear ‘em as a necklace.” The second male finally appeared. He was on the short side, with a florid complexion and cold, hard eyes. Apparently, the hired help was expendable, because he had no mask to hide his identity.
“Enough. We’re not here to indulge your violent side. Dante here is a prime specimen, and I intend to keep him that way…for now. I need more test subjects, and I am looking forward to seeing how his mixed heritage affects the process.”
“He don’t need his teeth to be test subject,” the other man grumbled.
Mr. Money tapped a finger on a slender band of polished silver on his left wrist. “And I don’t need you interfering in my work. You’ve spilled enough blood already. More than you were authorized to.”
Red Cheeks blanched and lapsed into silence.
Dante listened to their conversation with interest. They were being careless, letting details slip that made him believe they already considered him a nullified threat. But if that was the case, then why was one of them hiding his face?
“What did you do to my neck?” Dante asked when the silence stretched out too long.
“A minor procedure. I inserted a chip. You are now corporate property.”
“The hell I am. I’m a free citizen. You can’t go around tagging people and claiming they’re indentured servants, that’s illegal!”
Money smiled and made a rolling gesture with one hand. “Legality is a lovely, bendable concept. Especially in a place like this.”
“Places like this shouldn’t be allowed to exist.”
“Dante. ETA sixty seconds.” Aria’s clipped words were music to his ears.
“A mercenary with a moral code? How interesting. I imagine that makes for some long, sleepless nights as you try to justify your decisions. I have good news for you, though. In a few minutes, you’re not going to have any more inner conflicts. You’ll be at peace. No moral quandaries or questions about your place in the cosmos. You will know your role and embrace it.” He walked to a rickety table and picked up an injector.
Adrenaline hit Dante’s system like a jolt of electricity. There was no way in hell he was going to let them inject him with cobalt. “I thought you said you wanted to be sure the sedative was out of my system, first.”
“Given the conversation we just had, I’d say that’s already happened. You are coherent, alert, and had a normal response to pain stimuli. It’s time to proceed. The sooner this is done, the sooner I can leave this dismal place.”
“Want me to hold him?” Red Cheeks asked with a grating, cheery tone.
“Please.”
Dante gritted his teeth and flung himself sideways in his restraints. The chair rocked, and at least one of the legs uttered a creak of protest at the abuse. One of the few details he’d been able to observe while he was faking unconsciousness was the fact his chair was made of a lightweight polymer. If he applied enough force, it would break. He’d done it before by accident. Now, he needed to do it on purpose.
He did it again, and this time the chair toppled, sending him crashing to the floor. His ribs screamed in agony, and his hand felt like it had been dipped in burning rocket fuel, but he ignored the pain and kept fighting against his restraints.
“Dammit! I told you to hold him!” Mr. Money barked.
“I’m trying.” Red’s voice sounded from somewhere near his feet, and Dante kicked out with both feet in that direction. He connected and managed to twist his head around in time to see Red stagger backward into Mr. Money. The injector flew one way, the men went another, and Dante knew he’d bought himself a few more seconds.
A red light began strobing and Mr. Money cursed. “Someone’s tripped the proximity alarm. Stay here and deal with him. And remember, no permanent injuries!”
Dante managed to grin despite his pain. His team was here.
Red seemed to sense the balance had shifted. The arrogant sneer was gone, and he kept eyeing the door Mr. Money had just walked through.
“You got friends?” he asked, flicking his gaze between Dante and the doorway.
“I do.” He managed to kick free of the bindings holding his legs and rose to his knees. His arms were still bound behind him, but at least he was mobile again.
“Then that asshole ain’t coming back for either one of us.”
“Not likely. If you give yourself up, they’ll hand you over to the authorities.”
For a moment, Red looked like he was considering it but then shook his head, one hand rising to rub the side of his neck. “That’s not an option for me.”
“Then I suggest you run.” There was no place on the planet Red could hi
de now that Dante had seen his face. Encouraging him to leave meant there’d be one less threat to his teammates.
“That’s not an option for me, either.” Red drew something from behind his back.
That’s my blaster. Dante lunged to his feet and charged straight at Red. Head down, legs pumping. No way in hell he’d let one of his friends get shot with his damned weapon.
He was still two steps away when Red pulled the trigger. The blast hit him in the shoulder, searing away his shirt and frying his skin as it tore through his body. He had enough momentum to keep going despite the pain, crashing into Red as his legs gave out.
The last thought he had was of Tyra. She was reaching for him, but he didn’t have the strength to lift his arms. She called his name as she faded away, and he fell into darkness.
Tyra paced the medical bay, waiting for news. She already knew it wouldn’t be good. She had the same heavy, sick feeling she got sometimes when a patient was about to crash on her. She’d learned not to question those feelings. Something had gone wrong, and Dante was going to need her. “Do we have enough blood on hand?” she asked Cris.
“We should be okay.”
“Synthesize another batch.”
Cris’ fingers flew over one of the consoles. “Done. Do I want to ask why?”
“Gut feeling.”
“Should I call Dr. Downs? I’m just a medic. If things didn’t go well down there, she’s more qualified to help.”
“She’s also a Bellex employee, which means she can’t be trusted. It’s got to be us. Besides, you’re not just a medic. You’ve got more practical experience and better skills than some doctors I know.”
Cris grinned. “Thanks.”
Tyra started pacing again. She had to keep her emotions locked down, but it wasn’t easy. She was worried. More than she should be, considering there wasn’t anything between her and Dante but an interrupted kiss and a few flirty messages. Later, she’d have to think about that, but first, she had to repair the damage the stubborn fool had done to himself.
The waiting ended a few minutes later. “This is Nova Ground Team to the Malora. Retrieval mission successful, but we have wounded,” Kurt’s deep voice filled the room.
“This is medical. Who is injured and what’s their status? I’m going to need details.”
“It’s Sergeant Strak, ma’am. He’s unconscious and has been since we found him. He took a blaster bolt to the shoulder. It’s…it’s bad. I’ve applied wound sealant, but the bleeding won’t stop. He’s got multiple fractures to his right hand, and he’s struggling to breathe. Med-scan indicates broken ribs, blood loss, and a punctured lung.”
“Send me the report from the scanner. What’s your ETA?”
“We’re breaking every law and protocol to get to you as fast as possible. ETA, sixteen minutes.”
Dax joined the conversation. “Make it fifteen or less. Ignore all protocols and redline the engines.”
“Yes, sir,” Aria replied.
“This is Caldwell. I’ll meet you in the shuttle bay.”
“Roger that. Revised ETA, nine minutes.” Aria spoke again.
Cris grabbed the already-loaded gurney and made for the door. “You got this?”
She waved him on. “Go.”
“Commander, the lieutenant is on his way to meet the shuttle,” she said.
“I’ll have West meet him there,” Dax replied.
Dante’s medical scans appeared on a wall monitor. What she saw gave her hope. He wasn’t going to enjoy the next few days, but there wasn’t anything here she couldn’t fix. “Okay, Kurt. I’ve got the reports. Here’s what I need you to do…”
Chapter Nine
Tyra stifled a yawn behind her hand and got to her feet. Not even coffee was staving off exhaustion anymore, but she was determined to stay awake until Dante woke up. He’d want to know his condition, and she was the best one to answer any questions. At least, that was her official reason. Unofficially, she knew she wouldn’t sleep until she’d heard the familiar rumble of his voice. It wasn’t the first time she had to treat someone she knew, but it hadn’t made it any easier to see him lying on the operating table, bloody and still.
His medical file told the story of a man who had suffered more than his share of painful injuries. Some of them were related to his days as a fighter, most of them had been incurred after he joined the IAF. He’d been shot, battered, stabbed, and even blown up—more than once. Dax had given her access to more than just Dante’s medical data, though. There were incident reports, statements, and even a list of commendations. She’d read through them while she waited for him to wake. In almost every case, he put himself in harm’s way to protect someone else – the same way he’d told her to take cover before taking on her attackers single-handedly the first time they met. He might be overbearing and arrogant, but there was no denying how attractive his protective streak was… even if it might get him killed one day.
Today would not be that day, though. He was going to make a full recovery thanks to the care his teammates had given him in transit back to the ship. He was already stable by the time he arrived in the med-bay, and it had taken less than two hours to repair the worst of his injuries. What he needed now was time to heal, and she’d made some preparations to ensure that was exactly what he got - whether he wanted it or not.
She’d been monitoring his vitals from a workstation in the corner of the med-bay. He was resting comfortably, thanks to the pain-blockers coursing through his system. The anesthetic was already out of his system, and from what she was seeing he should be waking up soon. She rose from her chair and stretched, triggering a series of cracks and pops in her joints. “I’m getting too old for all-nighters,” she muttered softly before walking the now-familiar route around the med-bay. She’d walked this path often in the last few hours. The movement helped keep her awake and allowed her to check in on both occupants of the room, Dante, and Nico.
Magi had brought the boy to see Dante once he was out of surgery, but all attempts to get him to go to bed had failed. Every time he was removed, Nico snuck out and returned to the med-bay, sitting outside the door in silent vigil. After the third escape, Tyra had suggested he stay with her. She’d tucked him into the bed right next to Dante. The boy had settled down after that and fallen asleep about an hour ago.
He must have lost his parents suddenly, too. Now, he was afraid of losing Dante the same way. However this mission ended, she was more determined than ever to make sure Nico never returned to Bellex 3.
She stopped beside Nico’s bed, drew the blanket up over his shoulders, and stroked his hair.
“Something wrong with the kid?” Dante’s question came out as a cracked whisper, but it was still enough to startle her.
She turned to smile down at her patient, who was already looking better thanks to the heavy doses of healing accelerant she’d pumped into his system. “Nico’s fine. He was worried and kept sneaking out of bed to check on you, so I let him sleep here.”
“He was worried about me?” Dante looked over at Nico with surprise. “He’s a good kid. I’m sorry I scared him.”
“You scared us all.”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry about that, too. I’ve been screwing up a lot lately.”
“Thanks to your friends, you’re going to be around to make up for it. How are you feeling? You ready to drink a little water?”
“I probably feel better than I look, and yeah, I’d love some water. How are Blink and Sabre? Any injuries? Did they catch anyone headed out of the building?”
“Your teammates are fine. Not a scratch on either of them. I don’t know much about what happened, but I do know they didn’t bring back any prisoners.” Tyra pressed a switch, and a robotic arm moved a glass of water to the side of his head, tipping it so the straw reached his mouth.
Dante took several sips before saying anything else. “No prisoners? Damn. They must have got away.” He tried to sit up. “Why can’t I move?�
�
“Because there’s a restraining field set up around your bed. And before you ask, no, I’m not releasing you until I decide you’re ready.”
“Let me up, Shortcake. I have work to do.”
For once, his nickname didn’t annoy her. She was too happy to have him back to care what he called her. “Not happening, Muscles. The only thing you’re going to do for the next twenty-four hours is lie still and let yourself heal. You had a lot of holes in your body for someone who promised to be safe.”
The field was set up to allow him some movement, and it was enough for him to reach out and take her hand. “You told me to be safe, but I never told you I would be. Doing my job means taking risks.”
“I’m starting to figure that out.” She squeezed his hand, enjoying the chance to touch him this way. “So, I guess that means I’m going to have to get used to worrying about you.”
His eyes lit up, and his fingers tightened around hers. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But don’t let it go to your head.” One thing had become clear to her as she’d waited for the team to reach Dante – despite his decision to keep his distance, she cared about him. It wasn’t logical, rational, or likely wise, but that didn’t make it any less true.
He tried to rise again, growling in frustration as the field stopped him from rising more than a few inches. “Turn this off, and I’ll show you how happy I am to know you’re going to keep being worried about me.”
