Nell Thorn

by Sophie Angmering

  “I am,” she replied stiffly, rubbing the collar unconsciously once more. The man called Dominic looked at the collar, at her, then at Rowe, then back at her again.

  “Have I met you before?” he asked her abruptly.

  “No.” Nell willed Rowe to make his excuses and get her out of there. The stranger’s eyes were tracking over her face, as if to commit her every feature to memory. That could only mean trouble, and she would still like to return to GEF space with her hide intact.

  “You are not from the Rim borders, are you?”

  “No, she’s not,” Rowe replied for her.

  “Did you know Angel is here?” Dominic looked at Nell, whilst his words were directed at Rowe. “Apparently to address the council.”

  Angel? Who the fuck is Angel?

  Rowe took a deep breath before replying, “No, but then why should I care if Angel is here?” Rowe looked at Nell. “All of that—Angel, everything—is part of a time that is gone…forever.”

  He does care, Nell realised. And that is why I am here. He needs me for something and it’s probably not sex.

  A sense of disappointment washed over her.

  “Are you from one of the Inner Galaxy Worlds?” She was once more the focus of attention.

  “What is this, a vidshow twenty questions?” she asked Dominic. He gave a brief laugh and raised a hand to beckon to a man weaving his way towards them across the room. The newcomer was slightly shorter than the man before her but just as handsome. “Do they breed you all for looks rather than function?” Nell asked them both rudely.

  “We could ask you the same thing,” Dominic replied, moving his gaze from her face to where her breasts pushed at the seams of her dress jacket. Nell took an irritated breath, angrily aware it made her look even more top-heavy. “Are you a relative of the Thorn family?”

  Nell froze, darting a startled look at Rowe. It was one thing to be so obviously a captured member of the Fleet, but to admit to being a Thorn under these circumstances was tantamount to expressing a wish for an immediate and speedy end. Rowe had her hand in a punishing grip, beyond punishing, in fact. Whatever he had planned, it obviously had not included these two.

  Which surely was a good thing?

  The enemy of my enemy is my friend, thought Nell. Did she want to get out of here or not? Obviously, Rowe had his own plans for her. Not a comfortable thought.

  “Helena.” Nell smiled graciously as she extended her free hand to shake the hands of both men, starting with Dominic. “You may call me Nell. Nell Thorn.”

  It was worth it to see the jaws of all three men drop. It was not the answer any of them had been expecting her to give.

  It was clear that Dominic and his companion had recognised her name immediately.

  “Nell Thorn. We’ve heard much about you.” Dominic’s expression, for a moment, became slightly less urbane. A look of savage fury crossed his features before he quickly masked it with a polite smile. “Dominic Danyeo, at your service, Nell.”

  Lord Dominic Danyeo, one of the first sons of the Rim continuum and heir to the mighty Danyeo Family Collective, shook her hand.

  “Rennick Stannick,” said his companion as he extended his hand to encompass hers in a bone-crushing shake. Stannick was the sole heir to a family almost as powerful as the Danyeos.

  It couldn’t be—could it?

  Damn, her sister had good taste. For a brief moment Nell could almost understand why Kate had so foolishly thrown away her career and family connections over the two men before her. The aura of power and charisma that rolled off the pair of them was intoxicating.

  She was then dragged unceremoniously away.

  Rowe could not make his excuses fast enough, towing her across the expanse of the hall. “How the hell do you know them?” he asked her.

  “Lots of people know me.”

  “No, Nell, they know of you; they don’t know you in a nice way.”

  “It didn’t look like they knew about me in a nice way, did it? You must have heard about the recent family scandal.”

  “Family scandal?” Rowe looked at her as if she’d lost her wits. “Shit!”

  He pulled her roughly into an alcove and looked about, as if they were being pursued.

  “Where have you been, Rowe?” Nell asked him.

  “On a Rim slaver ship, of course,” he replied bitterly, turning away from her to study the assembled guests again. Rowe’s expression was rigid, his jaw tense. “Shit, Nell. Of all the people to know you, it’s Danyeo and Stannick.”

  “But surely that’s something,” she protested. “Maybe they’ll help you. Then again…” Neither man had looked that happy to meet her.

  “No, it’s a bad thing, a very bad thing. It might just have signed our death warrants before we can speak to anyone.” That seemed more likely, thought Nell, given the current tension between the Elite Fleet and the prominent Danyeo Collective, who ran a large part of Rim space.

  “Rowe, why am I here?” Nell finally asked. She was here because he had saved her life, but what did Rowe want with her?

  “I have unfinished business with the people who originally sold me into…that hell.”

  “Ah.” What else could she say, apart from, “And I’m here, why?”

  “Because I have no one else I can trust,” snarled Rowe, “and I need the support of the Rim Council to be reinstated.”

  “So all this is to get your old job back,” Nell observed dryly. “What was your old job, Rowe?”

  “I looked after an area of space that someone else obviously had their eye on. The Rim Council seem to be under the impression that I went voluntarily. At least, that’s what they’ve been told.”

  “Can you prove that you didn’t?” Nell paused but then could not help but ask, “What do you need to do?”

  “I need to appeal to the Rim Council, but securing an audience can be…tricky, as well as…unpredictable.”

  Nell braced herself. This man had saved her life, she reminded herself, and that of her crew. There was no way she was going to refuse to help.

  “What are you planning to do?”

  “I need to get the attention of as many people as possible, to witness that I’m here, with a GEF officer—with you. We need people to see us here and talk about us being here for as long as possible.”

  “And exactly how will that help us?”

  “It may be what we need to keep both of us alive long enough to give evidence to the Council.”

  His words hung between them, the unspoken implication that it might not be enough ignored.

  “So if we get to see the Council”—Nell paused and weighed her options—“then we’re even. I speak to the Council then I get to go back to Fleet space.”

  “Yes.”

  “And your plan is…?”

  Chapter Eight

  “Of course you will talk to the Council!” The way he raised his voice made it sound like they had been having a long argument about her cooperation some time before Rowe had spoken out.

  Nell stood with her hands on her hips, legs braced, shoulders back. She knew that, in her dress whites with their ridiculous gold braid, she looked every part the arrogant GEF officer. She knew it because she had practiced both the attitude and the image of authority tirelessly in front of countless mirrors over the years. Rowe had told her what he planned to do, but in all honesty it sounded like one of the worst set-ups she had ever participated in.

  What came next still shocked her, even though she had been forewarned. Rowe had said that he needed to get the attention of as many people as possible to witness that he was there with her.

  He seized the front of her Fleet jacket and ripped it open. Gold buttons pinged in all directions, scattering over the floor, hitting people’s legs and feet. The buttons, plus Rowe’s raised voice, made the people around them draw back to observe.

  No missing that.

  Nice work, if humiliating. Nell was not about to stand there and let Rowe do all the talking, whate
ver his plan might have been.

  “About the slaver, Rowe?” Nell pulled the ruined jacket from her body and cast it to one side, improvising as she went. “Or how I bought you for sex?”

  The crowd about them now gathered to watch, murmuring its interest.

  Rowe said nothing, just stood watching as Nell lifted her hands to unbutton the top of her shirt. Its narrow collar was almost as confining as the jacket’s high collar had been.

  “But then you must be used to it. You’re Rim. Aren’t you used to being regularly fucked over by the Galaxy Elite Fleet?”

  The murmur of interest turned to a rumble of disapproval. She certainly had most of the room attending now.

  Well done, Nell. Now all you need to do is get out of here alive.

  “Show her how the Rim does it.” Someone in the crowd threw Rowe a knife, which he caught deftly in one hand.

  Suddenly the whole scene took on a completely new dimension. It made Nell ask herself exactly how much she trusted Rowe as she watched him circling her, armed with the short stiletto blade. Rowe lunged forward. She dodged, but he caught her by the back of her shirt and swung her round. Nell could feel the momentum pull her towards the knife in Rowe’s hand. She braced as she swung round, waiting for the sting of the blade as it came into contact with her flesh, but instead Rowe jerked it upwards. The buttons of her dress shirt scattered the way of the jacket, and it was pulled from her back as she span away again from Rowe’s grasp. The removal of her Fleet issue shirt left her dressed only in her foundation vest from the waist up.

  Nell blessed the fact that the vest was a robust feat of textile engineering, although it left little to the imagination. Its high-tech, breathable cloth was almost sheer, so transparent that her overly generous breasts pushed both nipples tightly against the thin fabric, meaning both were clearly visible. Not usually a problem, but the rough crowd present met its appearance with a roar of disapproval.

  “Off!” they demanded as one.

  Rowe lunged again, and again. Nell dodged both times, skidding slightly on a gold button that had found its way beneath one booted foot. Rowe used her distraction to rush her again, and, as he passed, cut the waistband of her white breeches. Not enough to make them fall, but enough to make them sag away from her waist.

  Nell was breathing heavily, one hand on her breeches to keep them from falling down, one hand outstretched to fend off an attack by Rowe.

  Suddenly someone in the crowd grabbed her hand.

  A man with the most startlingly blue eyes had seized her as she circled the arena made by the crush of bodies watching them. She went to wrench her hand from his, but he held it in an iron grip. He then pressed the handle of a knife into her open palm, closing her fingers about the hilt before melting away into the crowd once more.

  Shocked, Nell tested the weight of the weapon and found she liked being armed in her current situation. Ready for some small revenge, Nell launched herself towards Rowe and aimed to cut his waistband. She was more successful—his black, military issue breeches slipped from his hips to reveal his own sheer fabric trunks. They left little to the imagination, the tight material lovingly cupping the muscles of his taut buttocks and the bulge of his cock. As a consequence the crowd began to shout even louder, clearly enjoying the entertainment.

  With a wry smile Rowe dropped his breeches completely and kicked them away, pulling his black shirt over his head as he did so. Nell watched him undress, pulling the buttons at the knees of her own breeches undone and quickly shucking them off over the top of her boots while Rowe had his hands full with his own sartorial issues.

  Both virtually naked, they circled each other within the space left by the shouting spectators. Already bets were being taken on the outcome, the odds being catcalled across them as they fought.

  “Thanks for making me a big fucking target in my underwear,” Nell taunted him as she dodged one way, then feinted the other.

  “You are always a target in your underwear, Thorn,” Rowe replied. “At least this way it’s a fairer fight than me jumping you in your sleep.”

  “Trust you to bring up that bloody assassin again,” she growled, bringing up her foot to kick at his knife hand. He caught her ankle easily and pushed her back.

  Nell used the proximity of his body as he did so to kick out with the other foot and bring them both crashing to the ground. She threw herself onto his back and wrestled him flat to the floor.

  “I win!” she declared triumphantly into his ear. “I have you, you fucker.”

  “Sure?” was all Rowe said, and, within only a few moments and a flurry of her struggling limbs, she was face down with Rowe straddling her back, supporting himself on one arm so he could lean forward and murmur in her ear. “You were saying?

  The sight of the Rim contender sprawled over the diminutive GEF representative met with great approbation. The crowd roared its approval, whooping and hollering their support for Rowe.

  “Did you know that during the Rim challenges of old, if a combatant was bested, the victor had the right to fuck him?”

  Nell could feel his rigid cock lying along the open crease of her buttocks as she lay spread-eagled on the floor. There was almost nothing between them, only the transparent excuse for cloth that they wore as underwear. She had to ask, “In front of everyone?”

  “What do you think?” Rowe lowered his mouth to the nape of her neck.

  Nell’s blood was still running fast with adrenaline. Caution had long been swept away by the rush of chemicals produced by combat, fear and what felt like a fight for her life, although her head was telling her that Rowe was the least of her problems. The mob surrounding her could prove far more dangerous. They were screaming for Rowe to finish the fight properly. An arse fucking seemed to be the act of choice, listening to the catcalls.

  But she still couldn’t help herself.

  “Go on then,” Nell taunted him breathlessly. She arched her back and pushed her sweat-slicked buttocks back over his rock-hard erection. “I dare you, you spineless shit.”

  Rowe’s intake of breath was so sharp it was as if she had physically punched him. He pushed himself up on his arms and Nell flipped herself over so that the tips of her breasts were brushing his chest. She looked deep into his stormy grey eyes, rocking her sweat-soaked abdomen against his cock and balls. “You know you want to,” she whispered.

  Rowe stared down at her. Time seemed to stop as they looked at each other. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then, “Enough! Let’s finish it there, Rowe!” The voice seemed to carry to the very corners of the room.

  Danyeo hauled Rowe off her. “We’re a bit more civilised these days, Rowe. Try to remember that.” He helped Nell to her feet. “Rowe has made his point; he has finally made it impossible for the Council to ignore his presence here.”

  “Thank you,” Nell acknowledged.

  “You may not be thanking me if the Council members find in Rowe’s favour,” he said abruptly, his expression tense.

  “That’s not going to happen,” Rowe snapped. “My enemies have had more than enough time to buy or blackmail every last one of you into silence. They won’t find in my favour.”

  “They will if you are telling the truth and it is backed up by Commander Thorn’s version of events.” Danyeo gave a wry smile, “Something of a masterstroke, Rowe, hauling Commander Thorn back here to give evidence on your behalf.”

  “Then I haven’t a problem.”

  “It looks like you haven’t. But Commander Thorn may have. I hear rumours that your ‘rivals’ have called for a mindelve to be performed on Nell to substantiate your allegations against them.” Danyeo’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper as he spoke to them, his eyes darting about the room as if he was checking who might be close by.

  “A what?” Nell had never heard of that term before. Neither man replied, but they exchanged a look that Nell was not about to let go unchallenged. “Gentlemen, would you mind telling me what a mindelve is?” Nell asked sweetly.
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  “It’s to frighten us off,” Rowe said finally, a note of triumph clear in his voice. “They’re running scared. This way they can look willing, yet the likelihood is that I will back down. How long would a ruler of the far Eastern Complex last if word got out that he turned the last remaining golden child of the Thorn family into a walking vegetable in order to regain control of the Sector?”

  “Hold on,” Nell seized Rowe’s elbow. “Explain to me now what this mindelve thing is… Is it some kind of hypnosis, a drug?”

  “No, it’s nothing so elegant, I’m afraid, Nell.” Danyeo answered her, “It’s a mind-delve, literally. It’s a hard copy dump of the brain’s pathways down into a multidimensional carbon complex copy that can then be used to read all memory and experience of the subject.”

  “But it’s still a copy.” Nell shrugged.

  “The methods used to take the copy are so destructive it can destroy the very mappings it reads.”

  “Can? There is a chance that it does not?”

  “I’ve never known it not to.”

  “Okay.” Nell could feel the muscles in her face slacken as the reality of what she was faced with sank in. “But the damage isn’t permanent, right? It can be treated.”

  “Wrong.” Rowe rubbed a hand over his face and massaged his forehead with the side of his index finger as he often did, Nell had noticed, when he was on edge. “You are proof that I was sold to slavers, who that slaver was, the state I was in when you found me. You will also show pretty convincingly that the Galaxy Elite Fleet probably had absolutely nothing to do with my initial disappearance.”

  “Indeed, the Rim had made some far-reaching allegations regarding GEF involvement in your abrupt departure, based on some misinformation, it would seem,” Danyeo told them.

  Nell rounded on Rowe, furious.

  “So I’m the last person they want to see here. And ideal insurance for you, Rowe—wow, just how much trouble am I in, you fucker?”

  He lied to me! Sure, he needs me? Desperately? Hah!

  “Language, Nell,” Rowe replied. Nell dealt him a withering look.