An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Hot Target
ISBN # 1-4199-0565-1
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Hot Target Copyright© 2006 Nathalie Gray
Edited by Mary Moran.
Cover art by Syneca.
Electronic book Publication: August 2006
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Warning:
The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This book has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.
Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).
S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.
E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.
X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.
Hot Target
Nathalie Gray
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Colt: Colt Industries Inc.
Glock: Glock Gesellschaft m.b.H. Inc.
Nitron: SIG Arms Inc.
SIG: SIG Arms Inc.
Acknowledgments
Hello Reader,
Let me steal a minute of your time here. I have so many people to thank, it’d take the rest of the book, all however many pages of it, and that wouldn’t make for a very fun time for you, would it? So I’ll be brief—or as brief as a French person can be…you all know we talk too much. So, here we go…
—My husband Karl and my son Xavier for bringing me chocolates, hugs and laughs when my brain begins to ooze out of my ears.
—My editor Mary, fearless leader and Indiana Jones of the literary world, and no, you’re not having her. Get your own!
—My family, friends and surrogate brain for not laughing when it would’ve been easy to do so.
—You, Reader, for spending your money in exchange for a good ride. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy this one!
Prologue
The tough, ugly-as-hell little ship Femme Metal used to be home to an all-female, elite extraction team captained by Alexandra Novona—Captain Steel.
During their last momentous mission, in which a former crewmember turned out to be a traitor, computer-hacker and whiz kid Kimberly Holmes was captured by the Yithian crime lord Drokesh. No one knows what he did to her, only that when Alex finally helped her escape, Kim was different.
Upon her retirement from bounty hunting, Alex could finally savor life with her last-contract-turned-lover Sekmeth Meroh, himself a Hunter from the fearsome Yithian race. She sold the ship to Kim, who had no intention of continuing the extraction business.
Because her old job used to weigh on her soul, Kim instead turns the Femme Metal into a floating armory, bringing her cutting-edge designs into actual weapons, what she affectionately calls “can openers”. Building her reputation as a legitimate arms dealer hasn’t been easy, but Kim is stubborn if nothing else.
Now five years later, Kim’s clientele has grown, so has her profit margin. There isn’t much that can stand in her way when she sets her mind to it. And right now, her mind is set on a rich, new client.
Chapter One
“I hope you didn’t scratch him,” Alex said as she craned her neck to see the rest of the bridge over Kim’s shoulder.
Kim barely managed not to roll her eyes. “There’s not a scratch on her you haven’t put there yourself.”
Alex frowned. “Is that new, that thing with the plasma core?”
Kim turned in her seat, gazed at the newest addition to the Femme Metal’s navigational console and beamed back at Alex. “Totally.”
In the viewscreen, her former boss frowned even harder. For the ex-soldier, anything new was to be considered armed and dangerous. At least, suspicious and worthy of a poke—or five—with a sharp stick. “Looks expensive.”
“It was at first, but I bargained it down to half the asking price.”
Kim’s bargaining power rested mainly on the array of weapons lined in the cargo hold—big, bad, cutting-edge and totally illegal to have, let alone sell. Most people she dealt with stared in mute awe when she took them around the cargo hold and its shiny wares. Prices dropped even lower when she introduced them to Big Bertha, her pride and joy. With a single burst, that pulse cannon could open a ship like a sledgehammer would a can of sardines. Talk about power. And when nothing else would do, she’d resort to wearing a lot of latex…that always closed the deal.
A blue tattooed arm snaked around Alex’s shoulders and Sekmeth leaned into the screen. “Alexandra Novona knows you take good care of her ship.”
Kim sighed. It’d been hers, Kim’s, for at least five years now, ever since her profitable arms-dealing business had mushroomed to a six-figure-a-year profit margin. Despite Kim’s success, Alex still thought of the ship as hers. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sekmeth. I know she means well.”
The Yithian’s angular features softened as he nodded, his pearly iridescent gaze going to Alex.
“Would you two stop talking about me like I’m not there?” Her blue eyes sparkled under the frown. “So,” she added after a quick kiss on the Yithian’s cheek, “when are you coming back to the Rim for a visit?”
“After I bag this contract, I think I’ll come spend a few days with you guys. Only if you promise not to gross me out like the last time.”
Sekmeth only looked proud while Alex coughed and muttered something about Kim not knowing how to knock properly on people’s door and waiting before barging in and catching folks in compromising positions. Kim stifled a chuckle. She’d caught the enamored pair in more than a compromising position…
Who would’ve known Captain Steel was that flexible?
A series of deep clunks indicated the mooring clamps had latched onto the ship. A text-only message crawled across her screen. Land’s End station had just granted clearance to dock. She could now disembark and make tons of money. The station loomed large in the viewscreen, in the half not occupied by the smooching pair.
“I have to go,” Kim said as she reached for the control panel. “I’ll call you after I’ve met with Collins.”
Alex blanched noticeably. “Collins? You’re not doing business with that jerk, are you? He’s a first-class backstabber. Why the hell would you want to have anything to do with him?”
And on it went.
After a while, Kim got the idea. Bad Collins, very bad Collins. “He pays well and on time.”
The old debate. Like dealing weapons was more dangerous than selling people to brothel-ships, her former boss’ old job.
“Still,” Alex went on as though Kim hadn’t said a word. “Don’t tur
n your back on him. He’s a slimy jerk. And I don’t want him near the Femme Metal. He’s been in the can for industrial espionage back when he worked for—”
“Yes, Mom,” Kim said, knowing that’d just kill Alex.
“I’ll make sure to kick your ass when you come by. Novona out.”
The screen returned to its dull slate-gray.
As much as Kim enjoyed exchanging verbal darts with her former boss, Alex’s protectiveness grated on her nerves. Did the woman realize Kim had been at the helm for five years with a payload as profitable as it was dangerous? She could take care of herself. Just because she couldn’t straight-arm her way out of shit like Alex didn’t mean she couldn’t take care of business. She could and she did.
“Speaking of business,” Kim murmured when she heard her second-in-command’s heavy tread.
“Ready when you are,” Carmela said from the hatch leading to the bridge.
Kim stood and smoothed the toxic-spill orange, skin-tight, one-piece latex outfit. Her “power suit” according to Carmela. “Are you ready to dazzle them?”
A bright smile answered her, as did the silver kinetic energy gun Carmela patted at her hip. The thing probably generated its own microclimate. The woman’s coiled jet-black hair reminded Kim of a medusa. Almost as tall and muscled as Alex, she ranked just as high on the scary factor. The reason Kim had hired her. Protection.
The pair exited the bridge, marched down the passageway then slid the ladder to the landing deck, which she’d equipped with weapons sensors, a docking station for rechargeable stunners and a full-length mirror—it had always been an all-women ship—and activated the airlock. Air hissed angrily when pressure equalized in the tiny compartment. Only one of her ears popped.
“Outside” on Land’s End, a rock twirling in space more than a real station and Kim’s favorite conference room, the air smelled of exhaust fumes and burnt rubber.
She felt like she was home.
“They have to start taking better care of this place,” Carmela said, looking around at the many people crowding the mooring stations. Ships awaiting clearance swarmed outside the force field like space mosquitoes. “It’s a real corrida.”
Kim grinned and spread her lip gloss evenly with her baby finger. Carmela’s Spanish accent made everything sound decadent. Koh-ree-dah.
But she was right. It could take days for a ship to be cleared for landing. Kim never had to wait for clearance. They knew “Ballistic Kim” by reputation, and being on her client list was proving the place to be. And with Collins, she was starting to garner the attention of the big fish. Carmela thought they should stick to the little ones for a while, learn about the competition, the territory or such nonsense. Kim didn’t want to wait!
Not bad for a high-school dropout. She smiled at the thought and checked her portable decoder so she wouldn’t look like a goof and start fiddling with the holographic catalogue of her finest toys when the meeting started. She had to look professional.
Metal walkways gave way to real cement as the pair entered the station proper, leaving quite a few staring in their wake. Another reason Kim chose Carmela…she left an impression in the client’s mind. Male or female, human or alien, no one remained nonchalant when Carmela and Kim entered a room. And as cheesy and bigheaded as it could be, she enjoyed every second. They made quite the duo too. As much as her Spaniard companion was the smooth seductress, Kim was all energy and spikes.
She flicked a purple tress over her shoulder and pointed with her chin at the rowdy club she’d come to conduct business, the Flashpoint. “Jojo isn’t at the door today?”
Carmela’s laugh rolled in her throat. “Maybe he’s still trying to stop the bleeding.”
Music thumped a wild rhythm even from where they stood and dazzling light pierced the maladjusted, corrugated steel shutters. Privacy in a crowd. The safest type.
“Nah,” Kim replied, shaking her head, “he probably saw us coming and punched out early. We kinda stand out.”
A pair of particularly handsome Yithian males emerged from the club and Kim’s grin slid off her face. Though they didn’t even look at her, too busy checking Carmela out, Kim felt herself becoming small and twitchy. She glanced at them askance as they cleaved the crowd, only their silver hair visible over the rest. As usual when she saw any member of that race, an old wound flared up and began to sting. She was rubbing her thigh before she could stop herself.
“Someday,” Carmela said, clearly flushed with excitement, “you must tell me why you don’t drool over Yithians like the rest of us. They are the sexiest species in the system. And have so much more stamina than men.”
Kim only shrugged.
As they entered the Flashpoint, noise hit them like a pane of tempered glass right in the face.
“Whoa,” Kim said, bobbing her head with the beat. She executed a few dance moves, feeling the music pulling at her with a siren’s song.
“Your client is here,” Carmela screamed in her ear.
Kim spotted the man seated on the mezzanine, right along the balustrade. She’d heard of people selling an organ to get that spot. So Collins had connections. Alex’s warning rang in her head.
Plastering a megawatt smile, knowing she’d cleave a path through the crowd just as cleanly as the Yithians had outside, Kim kept her sight on the prize as she navigated the crowded place. As a looming shadow, Carmela followed, occasionally glowering someone out of Kim’s way.
Latex hugged in all the right places as she climbed up the stairs, throwing hip and ass in a wide pendulum that would close the deal as surely as the catalogue on her arm. Collins may be a slimy jerk according to Alex, but he was a rich, powerful and well-connected slimy jerk, a future client to Kim, one she couldn’t afford to let slip away. He was the Big Fish. And she’d be damned if she wouldn’t make him swallow hook, line and sinker. So what if she had to add latex to the mix.
She reached the table just as Collins was sending one of his goons to intercept Carmela. A haughty get-out-of-my-face Flamenco Stare quickly had him turning around to check with the boss.
Collins only smiled benevolently, a fat cat sitting on the fence. He made sure the chair next to him emptied when Kim drew near. With a lip-glossed smile, she sat and stuck her hand out.
“Good evening, Mister Collins.”
He shook her hand and released it a split second too late for her taste. Yep, slimy backstabber, just like she’d said. Totally.
“Ballistic Kim,” he replied, clearly relishing the moniker.
His small, dark gaze settled on the swell of her humble but centrally located breasts squeezed to death inside the molding suit. She may be an A-cup but she knew how to work it. Still, he’d poke holes in the thing if he didn’t look away soon. She mentally strapped him butt-naked on the Femme Metal’s prow, something that had always managed to make her smile through a difficult situation. Well, almost. The memory of Drokesh’s sharp teeth against her skin made her squeeze her knees together under the table.
Kim knew Carmela presently stared bazookas at the pig from above her shoulder but couldn’t afford to let her uneasiness show.
“If you have the credit, I have the gambit,” she quipped through a fake smile.
After she pulled a strip of plastic the size of a playing card out from the decoder on her arm, she flipped it down on the table for him to see then activated its preprogrammed presentation. A blue glow shined up to his wide face. He licked his lips.
“What are you looking for exactly?” she asked, not looking at the man for she knew what he wanted and wasn’t about to give it to him. He got to look but not to touch. The closest he’d ever come to her body was within visual contact.
With her fingernail, she triggered the root directory, slid some files to the side and clicked each one in turn, showing Collins her collection of armor-piercing darts.
He shook his head. “I was told you knew how to handle big guns, Kim. That’s what I’d like—”
A particularly loud passag
e in the techno tune drowned the rest of his sentence.
Kim winked. “Big is my specialty.”
She clicked on another file and let the image speak for itself. Collins’ face sagged with open awe before the telltale glimmer of greed flashed in his eyes. Oh she could tell he was just dying for that one.
“Meet ‘The Principal’,” she said, coming very close to Collins and dropping her voice so only he could hear. “Just like a principal, you hear this one coming down the hall and you know you’re in shit.”
He nodded, his gaze still riveted to the plastic strip and its representation of her latest fire-and-forget missile in all its shiny splendor. Even Kim couldn’t take her eyes off the image. Damn, he looked good. Like a giant titanium penis. All smoothness and power.
Knowing when she’d made a kill, Kim leaned even closer to Collins and grinned. “It doesn’t require further post launch guidance and can hit the target without being in sight of it.”
“Go on,” the man urged, breathless.
“The target is programmed into the missile prior to launch. Anything goes—coordinates, radar measurements, infrared imaging. After you fire The Principal, it guides itself by combinations of gyroscope, GPS, radar and infrared optical units.”
“Hell, I like it when a girl talks dirty,” Collins replied, eyeing her with more than just lust in his eyes. Respect. “I’m getting forty Principals. Right now.”
Forty?
Kim would’ve launched into a jig, but in the spirit of preserving her reputation, only nodded and returned her catalogue to its slit on her decoder. Collins looked at the disappearing catalogue with an expression of intense regret. “I’m looking forward to doing business with you, Ballistic Kim.”
She smiled and tried not to rub her hands as she mentally tallied the night’s profit, a cool eighty thousand credits.
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