by JC Cassels
Her brow furrowed. “I have to stay here, remember? They’ll kill my father otherwise.”
Reaching out, he gently brushed the hair away from her face. “They may have killed him already,” he said. “They intend to kill you both. They had no reason to keep your father alive once they took him from Mondhuoun. You do realize that?”
Closing her eyes, she lowered her head and nodded, swallowing back her emotions.
“You’re alive, Bo.” His long fingers tangled in the long hair at the base of her skull. He rested his forehead against hers. “Keeping you that way is my primary concern. These men who want to kill you and your father are playing a dangerous game. It’s all about maneuvering for a power base. The actual lives and concerns of the people involved are irrelevant to them.”
He pulled away just enough to study her face, looking for some sign that she understood what he was trying to tell her.
“If you’re not going to be home where your people and your security forces can protect you, you need to adapt to a different philosophy. You need to be more concerned with self-preservation because everyone else out there is trying to kill you. You are your own last line of defense.”
Slowly, her eyes opened and she stared at him, struggling to focus on his features.
“I can look after myself.”
She said it with such conviction that he didn’t dare laugh.
“I hope so,” he said. “I won’t always be there to look out for you.”
She bristled. “What makes you think I need you to look out for me?”
“Well,” he grinned, “you’re blind. Your uncle left you in my custody.”
“Custody? Are you arresting me?”
“No… I’m taking responsibility for you, temporarily.”
“I’ve been responsible for the entire population of Mondhuoun since I was twelve years old,” she snapped. “What makes you think you can take responsibility for me?”
He leaned back and held up his hands in surrender. “I’m on your side. I’m not the enemy.”
“From the day I was born, my father drilled into me ‘Duty, Responsibility, Service.’ Do you know what that is?”
She didn’t wait for him to respond. She continued on.
“It’s the Barron Clan motto,” she said. “With every waking moment, that responsibility is never far from my thoughts.”
“Be that as it may, Barron, responsibility for your safety falls on me.” He rose, gathering the supplies. “There’s no shame in being afraid.”
“Afraid? You think I’m afraid?”
“I think you’re a fool if you’re not,” he said. He packed the medical supplies back into the medipak. “You’re blind. You’re exiled. You’re under a death mark and you’ve got absolutely no control over what happens to you next. Whether you want to believe it or not, I know exactly what you’re going through right now. I’ve been there. I was scared out of my wits.”
He snapped the medipak closed and set it on top of the dresser. Reaching into the drawer, he pulled out the box with his Darien Roarke persona and tucked it under his arm.
“It doesn’t matter if you’re responsible for one life, a dozen, all Mondhuic, or even the Commonwealth itself. It’s a heavy burden. It’s a lot to carry. Either you carry it, or you fall. Right now, you’re not sure you can look after yourself, let alone a whole planet full of people.”
She turned her head away from him. “Please stop.”
“Right now, you can’t. That scares you, but it’s not the responsibility of it that’s so terrifying; it’s the thought that someone might just see how weak you really are. That’s because deep down, you don’t think you can do it. You don’t think you’re fit to be Barron. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Slowly, she lifted her face. Tears welled in her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
“To answer your question,” he said. “You asked why I thought I could take responsibility for you. I can take responsibility for you because I understand you. We’re a pair of frauds, you and I. Neither of us is what we’d like to be, or what we want people to think we are. We both have something to prove. There’s not a bit of difference between us. We’re both pretending to be something we’re not and we’re both terrified someone is going to call us on it. You’re not indestructible. Inheriting a title doesn’t automatically give you all the right answers. It doesn’t exempt you from normal human emotions or human failings. The good rulers aren’t the ones who are defined by their titles. The good rulers are the ones who seize control and redefine the title through their character and their actions – otherwise, you’re nothing more than a prisoner of your position.”
“You’ve been overly sheltered, I think. You can’t even remember the last time you had fun.”
“There’s no place for frivolity…”
“The more complex the mind, the greater the need for play.” He knelt down in front of her. “Look, Barron, I’ve been in your condition. I’ve been in your position, responsible for the lives of people I care about and helpless to do anything but wait and watch them die while praying they didn’t. Does knowing that make you think me less capable of protecting you?”
“No.”
“I don’t think less of you either. In fact, I admire you all the more. Now, I still have a job to do. The objective has changed, but I still have a job to do.” He slowly straightened and looked toward the lav with a sigh of resignation. “That means I have to go make myself into Darien Roarke and play in that tourney. If I can find out who Tennova is working with, maybe I can find out who went to all this trouble to have you and your father killed.”
Bo pushed herself out of the chair. “I’ll come with you…”
“No.” He shook his head. “The way you are right now, you’re a liability to me out there. I need you to stay here where I know you’re relatively safe.”
“You can’t expect me to sit back and do nothing while my father is Maker knows where…”
“I can’t exactly take a blind Joy Babe into the gaming lounge,” he said harshly. “Your face is swollen and you’ve got burns around your eyes and mouth. No amount of face paint is going to cover those scars. You need a dermal regenerator. The whole point of having you along as a Joy Babe was to blend in and, if need be, seduce Tennova. In your present condition, you’d accomplish neither. If I take you in there like this, you’d draw too much attention.”
He hated himself for the hurt that crept into her eyes. He didn’t have time to argue with her.
“I didn’t realize…,” she said. “Am I that badly scarred?”
“Yes,” he lied. “So you understand why you need to stay here?”
Tears glistened in her eyes again and she nodded.
“Good.”
Setting his jaw, against his conscience, he nodded to himself and looked her over one more time before slipping into the lav and opening the case containing Darien Roarke. Working quickly, he applied the prosthetics and transformed himself into the gambler he was fast growing to hate.
The truth of the matter was, he wasn’t as eager as her uncle to dangle her as bait for the assassin. He wanted her as far from danger as possible. She’d gotten lucky in the ditoxicin attack. The next time, she might not be so lucky. Her pride would recover. Death was more difficult to overcome than hurt feelings.
He wasted no time getting ready. When he finally snugged down the expensive chrono onto his wrist, completing the transformation, he snapped the lid closed on the box and left the lav. A glance at her confirmed his suspicions that she’d been crying. Crushing down a sense of shame, he pulled on his suit jacket from a hook by the door.
“Don’t leave the stateroom,” he told her. “I don’t know how long this round will last.”
Bo didn’t reply. She simply nodded her understanding.
The need to make amends with her nearly overrode his control. Reminding himself that it was for her own good, he forced himself to walk out the door without further comment. Once in the corridor outsi
de, the door clicked shut. His jaw tightened and he pushed aside his personal feelings. He had a job to do.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Day Four, Five-Point Tourney
Lady of Staves Starliner
Blade found his brother leaning against the bar talking to an attractive Remulian female. Her coppery hair shimmered in the warm ambient glow from the ceiling panels. The black shimmersilk pantsuit she wore clung to her curves and revealed a tantalizing amount of smooth brown skin. She laughed and tossed her head in a practiced move that sent her curls cascading down her back. Her large upturned eyes practically glowed silver as she hung on Chase’s every word. She was a beauty and Chase had her completely enthralled.
Blade smiled to himself.
Coming up behind his brother, Blade draped one arm over his shoulder and across his chest. He rested his chin on Chase’s other shoulder.
“There you are,” Blade said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
The female eyed Blade coolly, waiting for Chase’s response.
His brother smiled tightly. “Please tell me you’re drunk.”
“I need you in my stateroom.”
Chase tried to shrug him off. He offered the female a smile of apology. “This isn’t what it looks like…”
“Say yes,” Blade warned.
“…he’s my brother…”
“Are you ashamed of me?”
“Right now I’m planning your murder. Get off me.”
“Don’t say that,” Blade said. “You’re still angry. He meant nothing to me. You don’t have to do this to prove a point.”
“I see you two have issues to work through,” the female said. She gave them a measured look filled with disgust. “Excuse me.”
“Renat…”
She turned and strode away from them. Chase started after her, but Blade’s arm tightened around him, holding him back. Lifting his head off his brother’s shoulder, he watched the seductive sway of her hips as she negotiated the crowd.
“Nice ass.”
Chase elbowed him hard in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Blade released his brother and stepped back out of harm’s way, rubbing his abdomen.
“You had to do that to me?” Chase said. “Remulian, Dev! The woman was Remulian!”
Blade shrugged. Remulian females only found strictly heterosexual alpha males attractive. Any ambiguity in a male’s orientation sent Remulian females in search of another potential mate without a backward glance.
“I was this close…” Chase held up two fingers. His eyes narrowed as he rounded on Blade. “What’s the big idea? Just because you’re getting some, you don’t think I need to?” His voice trailed off with sudden understanding. “You’re not getting any, are you?”
“She’s on trizian,” Blade said. “I prefer my women responsive. Shoot me.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Chase shook his head. “So after all that with Marissa, you’re still not getting any?”
Blade shrugged again.
“You know, that makes me feel better.”
“I thought it might.” Blade smiled. “Listen, I’ve got to play this next round. I need to you to stay with Marissa. Who knows, you might get lucky with her.”
Chase brightened at the suggestion, the Remulian forgotten. “You think?”
“No.” Blade shook his head and grinned. “But I still need you to watch her for me. I’m pretty sure somebody is trying to kill her.”
“You realize that you’re a sociopath suffering from paranoid delusions, right?”
“Yeah, but the bright side is when I finally go stark raving mad, you’ll be the one in control of my estate.”
Chase nodded with mock solemnity. “There is that.” He let out his breath in a huff. “Fine. I’ll go babysit Marissa while you play, but seriously, little brother, you owe me big for this.”
“Put it on my account.”
***
She’d stayed put long enough to satisfy herself that he wasn’t sending his brother to guard her while he played in the Five-Point tourney. Moving quickly to the armoire housing her clothing, she sorted through, relying on touch and her limited eyesight to find the garment she was looking for. She pulled out what she hoped was a pale green, low cut dress and tossed it on the bed. Another search yielded a pair of shoes and her clutch bag.
Catching up her cosmetics bag, she went into the lav. Moving slowly and working by feel, she carefully applied makeup, keeping it at a minimum. Her main focus was in covering the red patches she could see. Once satisfied that she’d covered the worst of it, she jerked the brush through her hair until she worked out the snarls and turned, storming out of the lav. Pulling Darien’s shirt over her head, she tossed it aside with a small sense of justification, not caring where it landed.
Bo tapped the com-implant behind her left ear, welcoming the click and hum of the actuator. “Are you there?”
“Brat! I’m here, babe! I was getting concerned. What’s going on?”
“I’m not sitting this out a minute longer,” she said. “I’m over people telling me what I can and can’t do. I’m The Barron, dammit!”
Her brother didn’t reply immediately. In her mind’s eye she could see him flipping through data streams looking for the next course of action.
“I can talk you down into the emergency escape pods,” he said. “I’ve got a crew shadowing the liner and they can pick you up within hours.”
Bo pulled the dress over her head and twisted to reach the fasteners. “Negative. I do not have the schematics.”
“Bo, it’s over,” Edge said. “There aren’t any schematics, Royce said…”
“I know what Royce said,” she snapped. “I’m not sure I believe it. I mean, who the hell is this Darien Roarke and what makes him such a damn expert on Phase Theory? I am not leaving without those schematics.”
“Bo, what’s going on?”
“I want my father back. Where’s Tennova?”
“He’s at the tourney, but…”
“Good.” Bo stepped into her shoes and tucked the clutch under her arm. Taking a deep breath, she headed for the blurry outline of the stateroom door. “Once I get out into the corridor, I want you to check my hair and makeup. I had to do it by feel and I don’t want to look ridiculous.”
“But…”
Bo reached the door just as it slid open. A large man-shaped blur loomed menacingly in the doorway. She stumbled backwards in surprise, tripping over her dress. She felt the fabric give way, punctuated by the sharp, unmistakable sound of rending cloth. Large, calloused hands closed over her arms, pulling her upright.
“I’m sorry, Marissa, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Bo’s shoulders sagged in relief at the sound of Chase’s voice.
“You got your bandages off.”
“Yes, but I still can’t see.”
“Here.” Chase bent and picked up the torn hem of her dress and handed it to her. “Where were you going?”
Bo frowned and ran her fingers along the frayed edges of her dress. “Damn, I need to change again. Come help me find something to wear.”
“Me? I don’t know anything about women’s clothes!”
Ignoring his stammered protests, she dragged him to the wardrobe. It slid open at her touch and the light flared on with a brilliant blue flash. Bo winced and lifted her hand to shield her watering eyes against the glare.
“There should be a green and blue print dress in there,” she said, stepping hastily away. “Can you find it for me?”
“Marissa, I…”
“Please, Chase,” she said, slipping effortlessly into the Joy Babe tones. She sidled up to him and rested her hand on his chest. Lowering her chin, she peeked up at him through her lashes. “I need your eyes. I can’t do this without you. If I have to be an invalid a moment longer I’m afraid I’ll scream. Please help me. I could use a hero right about now.”
She didn’t need to see his face to know that her words found their mark. With a r
esigned sigh, he squeezed her hand before he moved to the wardrobe and shuffled through the filmy garments hanging there. After a moment, he cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.
He muttered softly to himself. Bo caught a few words here and there. “…luckiest bastard I’ve ever known…not right…no justice…”
After a few moments he pulled a garment from the rack.
“Here,” he said gruffly, thrusting the dress at her. “It’s blue. It’s green… I think. Go change in the lav.”
With a grateful smile, Bo took the dress from his hand and made her way to the lav. Once the door closed behind her, she stripped off the ruined garment and shimmied into the one Chase had found for her. A simple shift with a filmy overdress, it was one of the more modest dresses in her Joy Babe wardrobe. It left her arms bare and dipped low over her cleavage. The skirt barely brushed the floor and parted when she took a step. While it made concealing weapons difficult, hand-to-hand shouldn’t be much of a problem. She adjusted the throwing knives strapped to her thighs. Fortunately, when Royce had sent over her luggage, he’d included her weaponry as well. There was something reassuring about being armed again, however minimally.
She stepped out of the lav and sensed Chase’s full attention on her. She peered into the shadows, trying to find him.
“Chase? Are you still here?”
She knew perfectly well that he hadn’t gone anywhere. She clearly sensed his presence. She just didn’t know where he was.
He cleared his throat. “I’m here,” he said. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you alone.” He rose from one of the chairs.
With a smile, Bo made her way to him. She linked her arm through his.
“Come with me,” she said. “I need you to act as my eyes.”
He balked. “We’re not looking for more clothes, are we?”
She gently, but firmly tugged him into motion once more. “No more clothes.”
When they stepped out into the corridor, Bo hesitated.
What the hell was she doing? She was as blind as a Deroyan ground vole and she was dragging a civilian with her into a situation that could get them both killed. She couldn’t even dress herself without help. How was she supposed to find a set of schematics that may or may not exist?
