She stiffened and straightened so fast, the top of her head connected with the underside of a wing. “That is none of your business.” Rubbing her scalp with her free hand, she approached him, her rosy lips set in a hard line. “The only thing you need to concern yourself with is getting our coordinates correct. I assume you’re intelligent enough to operate an instrument panel and work the controls at the checkpoints?”
“I can, but it doesn’t mean I will.”
“Like hell.” The words were so soft he barely caught them.
“Is this our ship?” When she gave him a curt nod, he rolled his eyes. This one would be a problem. “Listen, kita.” He strolled around the stern, inching toward the service ladder. “I work best alone and fly faster solo. I’m all about getting there first, by whatever means necessary.” He put one hand on the ladder, the cold metal biting into his palm. “And here’s another fact for you. I don’t allow females to pilot any boat I’m on. Got it?”
An angry red flush sprang into her cheeks, and her eyes flashed a warning. “When I registered, I purposely requested I be the pilot. I expect you to adhere to my wishes.”
“Or what, you’ll throw a tantrum?” He put a boot on the bottom rung and pinned her with a stare. “Guess what? I don’t care who you are or what your experience level is. Chances are your father spoiled you rotten, let you do whatever you wanted. He probably felt bad you were a girl.”
“My father did no such thing.” She planted a hand on a rounded hip, and for a second, his attention strayed to the curves her slick suit revealed. From all outward appearances, she was fully human. “He’s proud of what I’ve accomplished.”
“Is he?” Stratton pushed himself up to the next rung. “I’ve seen women like you. You’ve got a chip on your shoulder and are trying to prove something to the men in your life. Well, gorgeous, I don’t have the time to straighten you out.”
“Don’t call me by any empty endearments or stupid pet names. I’m not a member of your harem.” The end of her ponytail quivered.
He lifted an eyebrow. A harem? At the very least, the woman would be entertaining on the journey. “Whatever you say. Here’s a reality check. I don’t give anyone special treatment. If you want to race with me, then your ass is going to do it from the nav position. Your choice.”
“Absolutely not!” A boot heel struck the floor.
“All right, then, let’s play this game. First one into the pilot’s seat gets the position.” He scrambled up the ladder and vaulted into the cockpit.
Seconds later, Willa’s curses flowed, ending only when she appeared at the other side and slid into the cabin as well. “That was a dirty trick. You had a head start.” She stood at his seat with an expression of intense dislike marring her oval face.
“Of course. If you think the Nebulon Trike is about sticking to the rules, you’re more naïve than I thought. Beings across all galaxies cheat. Get over it or get out. It’s that simple.”
She tossed the computer into the nav’s seat and treated him to an amplified glare. “You move, Mr. Sinnet, because unless you do, we’re not leaving this hangar.”
Excitement shot down his spine. “Is that a challenge?” At this close range, he took full advantage of inspecting the hellcat. Lush breasts thrust against the front of her uniform, every male’s dream. A narrow waist he wondered if he could span with his hands gave way to full hips in equal proportion with her boobs. His cock twitched. She was the image of the perfect woman he’d had in his mind since adolescence, and she certainly matched him in temperament.
Interesting.
A feathery black eyebrow inched toward her hair line. “Do you want it to be?”
At the moment, all he wanted to do was stick his face between those glorious breasts, but he nodded, determined to see how far he could push her, find out what she was made of. “Go for it, kita. I love a good challenge.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Stratton grinned. He’d called her bluff, and she had nothing to back up the words. Even so, a tiny twinge of disappointment caught him off guard. Why did women only want to interact with him on a carnal level? It might be nice to have a heated discussion or argument that had nothing to do with what he could give them physically. “Well, I guess we know which one of us deserves this seat, huh?” He swiveled the chair around to fully face her, and the tip of his nose came dangerously close to her bust line.
With a tiny bit of coaxing, he could have her on his lap…
“You deserve this.” Before he could react, she stomped down hard on the instep of his right foot. “For now, I’ll let you have your way, but from here on out, you’ll have to fight me for the privilege of pilot. I’ve worked hard, struggled for every achievement I claim, and I refuse to let a louse like you take that away. Do you understand?”
Pain radiated through his foot and shot up his calf. Not for worlds would he show her the juvenile action had hurt. Swallowing down a string of vulgarity, he gave her what he hoped was an insolent grin. “Perfectly. If you don’t get your way, you’ll have a hissy fit. Gotcha. Typical spoiled little rich girl.”
“Bastard.” She spun on her heel, bending slightly to retrieve the handheld device.
“At your service.” Unable to resist the urge to tease her further, he gave her ass a hard slap. “Now, be a good girl and take a quick inventory of our supplies. I have real work to do up here with the instrument panel.”
Willa swung around, her ponytail wildly moving, the flush of anger still in place, but she said nothing, only crashed through the doorway and into the cargo area. Seconds later, a food ration pack sailed over his shoulder and crashed harmlessly against the windscreen.
Swiveling back to the control panel, Stratton frowned. As long as Willa toed the line and didn’t give him too much hassle, they could pilot the bird into one of the top slots for that first checkpoint. He didn’t care what her story was or why she’d signed up for the race. None of that mattered. As long as he got his money, she could do whatever the hell she wanted—within reason. No sense attracting any undue attention to themselves before he could bag Chaf.
Chapter Two
Willa cringed when their craft, the Anomaly, shuddered before resuming its smooth flow through the star-dotted blackness. The idiot was going to ruin their chances of making good time if he insisted on such a careless attitude. “Is there a reason you have your feet propped on the control panel?” She stared pointedly at his dusty boots. They rested perilously close to the button that would dump reactor-core waste all over the course. “Obviously, you have no respect for your ship.”
“As long as it gets me to where I need to go, I don’t care. And as for your question, there’s no need to be alert at this point.”
“Ah, such a wonderful work ethic.” She gritted her teeth. Of all the men to be stuck with, the powers-that-be gave her him. “When would you like to start the GCCs? I haven’t programmed them in yet, since I don’t know—”
“Willa, just stop, all right?” Stratton squirmed into an upright position, slammed his feet onto the floor and swiveled his chair around to face her. “We don’t need course corrections at the moment. We’ve been in space for an hour. Relax.” His glare sent a tremor down her spine. “If you feel the need to make asinine conversation to fill the silence, fine, but don’t expect an answer from me.”
She attempted to avert her gaze from his spread legs and crotch, but her willpower had dissolved. In the mandatory slick gear, there was no doubt that Stratton Sinnet had the necessary equipment to please the ladies. The black suit hugged his body so tightly, she clearly saw the outline of his abdominal muscles, as well as the bulge between his legs. Insistent heat rushed to her pussy, made doubly uncomfortable by the uniform.
Needing a distraction, she cleared her throat and wrenched her gaze to his. “Are you always an ass?”
“A good portion of the time. That’s what makes me well known.”
“No, that’s what makes you an ass.”
“
It’s working for me.” A knowing smirk crossed his face. “See something you like?” He rested a hand on his upper thigh with his fingers dangling in such a way she couldn’t help but glance at his package again.
“No, actually.” Arrogant bastard. There was no way she’d let on how yummy she thought he looked. “You’re not as impressive as you think. I’ve seen better.”
His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned. “Do you always have to be so aloof?”
“I’m not aloof. I just feel the need to come down to your level.”
“Ah.”
Annoyed when he said nothing else, she sighed. “I’m going to do those course corrections whether you want me to right now or not.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself, Miss I-Always-Need-To-Be-In-Control. I’ll bet you’re rigid like that all the time. Unbending control, right?”
Hot anger jumped into her cheeks. “Without control, there is chaos. Besides, I’m a Lingorian and proud of it. We’re a race who cherishes pride, schedules and steely control over every aspect of life.”
“And why do I care?”
“I’m trying to tell you why I am the way I am.”
“Nope.” He shook his head, boredom clear in his expression. “You’re that way from something else. National pride has nothing to do with it. Hell, back in the day, I was from Earth, but that’s not why I love money, fast women and faster ships.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t been killed by someone before now. Asshole.” She glanced quickly away and pretended an interest in the display on her datapad. There was no other choice than to be in control; otherwise, she’d be forced to reckon with the voices in her head telling her she wasn’t good enough, would never be good enough. No way was she going to let Stratton know that. “How long are you planning to cruise at this pace? We’re supposed to reach the moon Aga no later than 1300 hours tomorrow. You keep this crawl, and we’ll finish in the back of the pack. That scenario is not on my agenda.”
“Is that a problem, kita?”
The man never stopped! Her chest burned with irritation. “Yes, since the point of any race is to finish first.” Unable to help it, she turned and regarded him again. Despite his lack of manners or decency, the man intrigued her. He held a lifetime of secrets in those deep brown eyes. The trick was to get him to share. “Why do you keep calling me kita? What does it mean?”
“On the last planet I lived on, it’s used as a derogatory term meaning spoiled or privileged.” Stratton shrugged, and the gesture caused the slick suit to pull tightly across his impressive shoulders. Shiny foiled patches and emblems of sponsors flashed in the weak interior illumination. “I figured it fits, since you’re so bent on getting your own way.”
“You have no idea what drives me or makes me who I am.” She gripped the datapad so hard, the lightweight plastic dug into her skin.
“Is that so?” His gaze flickered over her face, his expression clearly bored. “You have to be in control every minute, you probably wear your hair back like that until it gives you a headache—every day, correct? You get annoyed when people don’t do what you say that exact moment. Seems to me you’re so tense, a titanium rod would be jealous of your backbone.”
Willa hooked a finger into the neckline of her suit and pulled at the confining fabric. Angry heat rolled over her body, becoming trapped within the outfit. Damned uniform. What good would it do to keep a crew member alive in the event of a crash if the fabric meant she’d burn to death internally? “What about you? Don’t you demand as much control? Just look at the stunt you used getting into the cockpit.”
“That wasn’t control. It was seizing an opportunity.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. “We’re not talking about me.”
“Start sharing, Stratton. It’ll be a long trip otherwise.” She secured the datapad into a slot on the wall, then punched a button that brought up a star map on the windscreen. “At our present rate of speed, it’ll be three days before we make it to the moon.”
Idiot. At the checkpoint and after the mandatory rest period, there was no way he’d be back in the pilot’s seat. They had to get through the checkpoints as quickly as possible. Didn’t he understand the concept of the rally?
Stratton chuckled. The deep, rich sound reverberated through the close confines and did strange things to her insides. “In your world, you might rule the roost, but remember, I’m the pilot. What I say goes.”
Right, as if he even had an idea of what her home life was like. Willa bit down hard on her bottom lip to stop the retort. “My life is exactly the reason I’m here.”
“Fair enough, but resist the urge to tell me. I’m not in the market for a BFF.” He swiveled the chair until he faced the instrument panel. “If we burn through the bulk of our fuel now, we won’t have enough to sprint for that checkpoint tomorrow. I’m not going to come up short in order to stay on your schedule.”
She stared at the star chart, determined not to look at his smug face again. “Listen, the only reason I’m on this bird with you is to win. There’s no other option. If you can’t deliver the goods, I’ll be forced to evict you from your position and get someone else.”
More than anything, she wanted the accolades that went along with crossing that checkpoint first and entering their energy signature for the official record. He could keep the damned prize money. Funds would be nice, but that wasn’t her objective. All she wanted was for her father and brothers to see her at the top of each race leg—and for them to say she was worthy despite her sex.
“I’d like to see you try. It’s not like spare racers are trolling the area. Besides, I’ll easily overpower you, have you on your back so fast you won’t know what happened. I rather enjoy a woman on her backside, especially one as golvertic as you.”
“What does that mean?” The man was a pig. Too bad she couldn’t continue the race without him.
“I heard it at a spaceport a few weeks ago. Can’t remember what race it originates with. It means hot, good-looking, sexy or however that equates in your language. You may have an attitude and a mouth to match, but your curves will get you points.”
Warmth crept into her at his statement. “I’ll admit I’ve gotten by a few times on looks alone.” There was that one time she’d been flagged on her home planet for racing a shuttle in a restricted area. She’d flashed a bit of skin and gotten off without a warning or fine.
“See?” He flipped a switch on the instrument panel, and the interior lights went off altogether. “I’m the man in our cozy pairing. I know best. Let’s move on.”
In a heartbeat, the erotic heat morphed into anger. Glad for the darkness that hid her deep blush, she fumed. “Oh, you—” A host of insistent beeping cut off the rest of her statement. Willa gave the control panel her full attention and punched in a series of commands on an abbreviated, diamond-shaped keyboard. “There’s a ship closing in rapidly off our port-side.”
“Show me.” Stratton’s command prompted no argument and rang of ingrained leadership.
Willa typed a code on the keyboard. Another animated chart filled the windscreen, this time with glowing red letters and a grid showing two flashing green triangles. “Coming in fast. Energy signature shows it’s one of the racing ships.”
He pressed a button above his head. “Manual steering override employed.” A slim silver hose dropped from a panel in the ceiling. He quickly attached and locked it to a valve on his right shoulder. “Best hook up your auxiliary life support. Get your helmet on also.”
“Will do.” For once, she had no problem following his orders. She attached her own hose, then forced a sleek black helmet over her head, securing it beneath her chin by its strap. Immediately, a trickle of cool, oxidized air blew over her body.
“Who does the ship belong to?” Stratton’s slightly static-laden voice crackled into her ear through the helmet’s receiver. If there was a part of racing Willa hated, it was the helmets. They restricted movement and hampered communication.
“Give me o
ne sec.” Yanking the datapad from its resting place, she cycled through several screens before finding the information she needed. “It’s the Stryker. Piloted by—”
“Chaf Trant, the bastard.”
“Yes, how did you know?” She stared at Stratton, her jaw hanging slightly open.
“Let’s say we have history.”
“Join the club.”
He scoffed his disbelief. “You two know each other?”
“We’ve been partners. Once you’ve been around the circuits, you see the same people over and over.” It was odd that Stratton knew Chaf, though. By his own admission, he wasn’t a stranger to rallies, but she’d never seen him in races through this quadrant. Curiosity flared like a comet in her mind, but another bout of turbulence prevented her from questioning him. An alarm bell went off, signaling contact. “He’s got his nose in our stern. Evasive maneuvers?”
“One sec. Let’s see what sort of business he means to hit us with.”
“You want to wait? What if his intent is to destroy our ship?” Pissed off at both Stratton’s blatant disregard and Chaf’s audacity, she glared at her screen. “Do you think he’s trying to steal our stats?”
“What, now? We don’t have any time stats yet.” Stratton nudged a silver joystick, and the ship banked to the right. “He’s probably hoping to bump us off course.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him, except…” When the ship hiccupped once more, she gripped the edge of the control panel with one hand. “I didn’t think Chaf would stoop to cheating.” She’d raced with him before. He’d never employed such smash-and-flee tactics.
“Oh, you mean like I would?”
Willa shrugged. “You said it, not me.” She got the feeling Stratton would cheat, over all else.
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