Rayna reddened. Sam Murphy wasn’t a blackjack or a slaver or a sleazy Ninoctin orejacker. He barely qualified as a pirate.
“Sorry. I should know better by now.”
Sam stared at her for a moment. Then he smiled, but there was no amusement in his wolf’s eyes.
“Why, Little Bit! Was that an apology?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but headed straight for the shower, leaving Rayna alone.
Sent Via photon packet from M.S. Shadowhawk GSD 2.05.213/0846 hrs. Enhanced encryption. Verification 4279166G/SAM/sp
Fm.: Carver, R., Field Agent
To: Oksana, S., ICAR Station Supervisor, Madras
Subject: Request for Assistance
Forced to change current travel plan (ref. 6157). Expect arrival on Madras in 72 hours (approx.). Request you inform D. at destination of change in plan. Will formulate Plan B on arrival Madras. Guess that means I’ll owe you one.
When she had finished composing her message, Rayna encrypted it and uploaded it to Patel’s station on the bridge. Then she took a last look around the cabin where she’d spent a few happy hours with the infamous captain of the Shadowhawk and let herself out. She didn’t expect to see the inside of that cabin again—or to spend that kind of time with Sam Murphy again, either.
CHAPTER TEN
“Will you stop worrying?” His chief engineer shook his head in exasperation. “The enhanced solution is working. The matrix is growing like crazy. Tomorrow this time we’ll be good to go.”
Sam frowned at the delicate frame, now nearly covered by the growing nanomatrix. “Yes, but will it hold up?”
Kwan shrugged. “That was the risk we agreed to take, remember? We needed it fast. It should be enough to make the two jumps to Madras if we’re lucky.”
There was only one place to go if the matrix collapsed after one jump—and wouldn’t his single-minded Rescue agent love that! Sam wouldn’t allow himself to think what would happen if the matrix collapsed mid-jump.
“We’ve had spacer’s luck so far, Stephen. Something tells me it won’t get much better.” Sam moved on to something else. “Weapons status. You get those port laser cannons loosened up?”
“Slick as sex in the shower. We’re still going to have most of our firepower aft, though. The forward transducer coils need replacing. You’ll remember I’ve had that on the list.”
“And you’ll remember I’ve told you I can’t afford them right now.”
Kwan grunted. “Better run, then, and show them our ass in a fight.”
“Believe me, brother, I plan to.” Sam rubbed at the back of his neck, where the weight of keeping his ship and crew in one piece had suddenly landed with a familiar thump. He squared his shoulders to distribute the burden and clapped Kwan on the back. “All right, Stephen. I know you’ve been working hard. If pirate ships had commendations, I would write you up for one.”
“Guess that means you owe me a grog on Madras.” Kwan’s expression showed it was only his due.
“Guess it means I owe you a few.”
He’d promised himself not to get drunk on Madras. But as he left Engineering and headed for the bridge it occurred to him that his reason for staying sober dirtside was no longer valid—and he had a damn good reason for getting drunk. He’d made love to her all night, had felt her unmistakable response to him, not just once, but over and over again. He had seen the sweet smile on her lips, the tenderness in her eyes. And the way it made him feel . . .
Damn it! What the hell happened? How could she go to sleep so warm and willing in his arms and wake up so cold and unyielding just a few hours later?
Sam felt just the slightest twinge of guilt, thinking of some of his own sexual adventures. Hadn’t he exited just as efficiently in the morning—sometimes not even waiting that long—from nights just as pleasurable? Well, yes, but at least he’d left the girls smiling. That could not be said for the way Rayna had left him this morning.
And, besides, this was different somehow. From the beginning he had been drawn to this woman in a way he’d never experienced before. From the first time he’d seen her, he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind or make his body stop responding to the thought of her. He thought once he’d had her it would end this unbearable craving, but he wanted her even more now. Last night had been the most erotic experience of his life, and his body insisted on reliving every moment of it at the most inconvenient times. Sharp and inexplicable need made him want to find her and pick up where they left off, to break through that wall she’d erected between them this morning. To bury himself deep and thrust hard until she screamed for him again.
Sam adjusted himself with some difficulty, staring all the while at the touch pad where the Number Five for Rayna’s deck seemed to stand out with painful clarity. No! He was captain of this ship, after all. He had important duties to attend to. Damned if he was going to chase that woman a mere hour after she had slipped out of his cabin without a word. The day was long. He’d have her before it was over. She couldn’t have forgotten how he’d made her feel any more than he’d forgotten her.
Could she?
The lift arrived at the bridge level at last, and he strode toward the command room, thinking to give himself a minute to reorient before he hit the primary stage of his life. Read the reports, look over the comm logs . . .
Mo caught him before he reached sanctuary. “Cap.”
He sighed. “Mo. Tell me everything’s running smoothly on my ship.”
“I’d be lying.”
“What kind of XO are you?”
“The kind that ought to be kicking your ass right now.” They pulled up outside the tiny cabin that served as Sam’s office. Mo waited for his captain to enter first then came in and shut the hatch behind him.
Sam hit the well-worn button for [coffee, light/sweet] on the dispenser behind his desk. “If you mean what I think you mean, Commander, you should reconsider what you’re about to say.”
“Really?” Mo folded his arms over his chest. “What exactly do you pay me for?”
“Pretty sure the duties of ‘Executive Officer’ don’t cover monitoring the private life of the captain of the ship.” He retrieved his coffee from the dispenser and sat, propping his feet up on the desk. He refused to show how angry the whole subject of how he’d spent his last hours was making him.
“Whether you and Rayna Carver spent the night fucking each other’s limited brains out is of no concern to me.” Mo held up a hand when Sam tensed. “The bigger problem—and the one I am concerned with—is how that makes you feel about the woman. Might we be feeling a little tender this morning? Protective, maybe? Or, I don’t know, more inclined to take a detour to LinHo?”
Sam brought his feet to the floor with a thump. Scalding hot coffee sloshed over his hand and the desk. The anger and frustration of the morning came to a rapid boil and erupted in a blast of temper.
“Son of a mulaak bitch! You’re going to cut me open and read my emotions like I’m some kind of sacrifice on a Pataran altar? We’ve known each other a long time, azhtar, but that’s way out of line.”
“Is it, war brother?” The big man remained as stolid and relentless as a moon in its orbit. “When your feelings affect every person on this ship?”
“You don’t have to school me on my duty to this ship. When have I ever failed it? Tell me.” He grabbed his XO’s gaze and wouldn’t let go.
Mo refused to look away. “Never.”
“Never.” Sam nodded, and his rage began to ease. “I’m not going to start now. I have no intention of going to LinHo. Rayna informed her people on Madras this morning that LinHo was off. It’s official. We’re going to Madras. Happy, now?”
Mo inclined his head, and after a moment he smiled. “And if I said that Rayna Carver was a manipulating, cold-hearted, evil bitch who’s only going to break your heart?”
Sam ignored a stab of unreasonable fear and grinned. “Well, then I’d have to gut you where you stand, my friend. You wouldn’t say something li
ke that, would you?”
“No.” Mo’s expression turned somber. “I actually believe quite the opposite.”
“You think I’m going to break her heart?”
Mo grunted with something that was not quite amusement. “I think you’re both skipping toward disaster, hand-in-hand.” He opened the hatch and ducked through it. “What fools these mortals be.”
“Oh, so it’s Shakespeare now?” The captain came out from behind his desk and called after his retreating officer. “That was from a comedy, you know, not a tragedy.”
Mo sat at his station on the bridge, ignoring him. The other members of his crew reacted to their captain’s outburst with smiles and raised eyebrows. An argument of this sort between the captain and his XO was nothing new.
Sam suppressed a sigh and took up a position on the narrow walk overlooking the horseshoe containing navigation, helm and the conn. “Where are we, Sipritz?”
“Course heading 257 mark 13, speed point 87 of ion drive. Approximately 20 hours estimated time of arrival at Jump Node C4. Of course, ‘where’ is a relative question. I can only guess at an answer.”
Sam held up a hand to forestall the Mper’s lecture. “That’ll do.”
He stared at the viewscreen, empty except for the too-distant stars. Something cold crawled up his spine. His ship was humming along through clear space; the matrix was growing to replace what was needed to make the jump at C4; there wasn’t a threat within a hundred parsecs. But his intuition was telling him the threat existed just the same—and his gut was always right.
Mo slipped into place at his side. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s something out there.”
“There’s nothing on the sensors for as far as they can scan.”
“I know.” Sam ran a hand through his hair, thinking. Then he looked up at his XO. “Put on an extra body per shift to monitor the long-range sensors. Boost the power on those sensors—you’ll probably have to steal it from Communications or Medical temporarily. Patel and Berta will squawk; just tell ’em it’ll be over by tomorrow.”
Mo nodded. Sam knew the XO might not trust him to guide his own personal life, but Mo had long ago decided he could be trusted to lead the Shadowhawk. The Pataran moved off to go to work.
Sam continued to pace his bridge for another half-hour, but it was clear there was nothing for him to do there. The bridge in deep space is a dull place unless the ship is under attack, when boredom is replaced by sheer terror. Despite the tension at the back of his neck, Sam had to admit such an attack didn’t seem imminent. And only one other subject dominated his mind.
“Take the conn, Mo. I’ve got reports to get through in my command room.” Then he was going to take a turn around the ship, though he didn’t say so. He and Rayna Carver were due for a talk, but that was nobody’s business but their own.
Rayna wanted to scream in frustration. Was there no place to get a little peace and quiet on this freakin’ trash hauler? She desperately needed some time to herself—to think, to just . . . sort out her feelings. She had been to the PT deck for a brief, very painful run through the cardio module and a shower in the crowded locker room. She had managed to grab a bite to eat in the packed mess hall—standing up. She had tried the tiny library, the raucous cargo deck, even a back corner of the shuttle deck, where Security had nearly thrown her in the brig.
Now all she wanted to do was curl up somewhere and lick her wounds. She hurt—not the ribs so much, though they were still sore, but what was behind them, someplace closer to her heart. What had she been thinking when she kissed Sam Murphy? When she let him make love to her? Beyond that point there was no sense in asking about what she’d been thinking. She hadn’t been thinking at all. She’d only been feeling—so many unexpected, transforming feelings, and not just physical ones. She’d felt safe and warm and loved in his arms. How could that be? They hardly knew each other. Christ, she’d even felt happy, maybe for the first time in her life.
All of which, now that she was away from the source of these unfamiliar emotions, terrified her. She was standing at the edge of a yawning precipice, the ground crumbling beneath her feet. She would fall; it was inevitable. And since she couldn’t fly there was nothing to keep her from being smashed to pieces on the jagged rocks below.
She wandered past her cabin in the vain hope one of the bunks might be unoccupied, but found it noisy and full, as always. She turned back into the corridor, but not before Lainie looked up from a game of cards and saw her.
The kid ran out into the passageway to catch her. “Hey! Hi.”
“Hi.” Their truce had expanded into a tentative friendship. At least, Rayna didn’t fear for her life around the girl now.
Lainie cocked an eyebrow. “Ribs bothering you?”
“Not really.”
“You look like shit.”
Rayna just folded her arms over her chest and glared at the girl until she backed off.
“Okay. Sorry.” She gestured back toward the cabin. “You, uh, want something from inside?”
Rayna sighed. “No, I was just looking for some peace and quiet.”
“Try Sickbay. Always quiet in there.” Lainie actually grinned. “My favorite hiding place.” She turned and ducked back into the cabin before Rayna could thank her.
With new purpose, Rayna moved through the ship toward Sickbay, determined now to find her peace. As she neared her goal someone entered the corridor from a hatch on the right just ahead of her, startling them both. He recovered quickly enough, turning to stride off in the other direction, but not before she’d caught a glimpse of a frown on dark, handsome features. He was Thrane, she was sure of that, and the better look she got of the tall, broad-shouldered figure turning a corner at the far end of the corridor confirmed it. Captain Murphy had several Thranes among his crew, but Rayna hadn’t seen this one before.
The thought of the Shadowhawk’s captain brought her back to her quest. She smiled when she realized the Thrane had emerged from one of the auxiliary entrances to Sickbay. Finally! Doc Berta won’t begrudge me a spot to sit and think this through.
Before she could take a step, warm hands encircled her waist, warm breath tickled her ear. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Jesus H. Christ, Sam!” Her heart crashed against her ribs as she spun in the arms of the man who’d leapt from her thoughts to this empty corridor. “Don’t do that!”
He tightened his grip. “Or what?”
She pushed a thumb slowly, but firmly into the base of his throat. “Or this.”
He let go, coughing, and she turned to escape into the nearest Sickbay entrance. The ward she found herself in was familiar—and currently unoccupied. The only life in the unit was at the far end, near Doc Berta’s office and the exam rooms. Rayna turned right instead, toward another exit at the opposite end of the ward.
Sam came in the way she had and caught up with her. “Nice trick.” His voice was only a little huskier than usual.
“You didn’t seem to get the message.”
“We need to talk.”
She pulled up at the hatch and turned to face him. “I’ve been searching all over this damn ship all day for some privacy. I don’t feel like talking.”
“Fine.” He bent and scooped her up, parting her thighs so her legs twined around his hips.
His hands were warm on her butt and lower back and without thinking she slipped her arms around his neck to complete the circle. “You are such a veer’s ass.”
He hummed in satisfaction and pushed through into the next room where it was close and dark, the only illumination coming from an emergency lightcell in a corner.
She buried her face into the hollow of his neck and inhaled his exhilirating smell of open skies and grassy plains. His lips nibbled at her throat, her jawline, her ear. The hard ridge of his erection pulsed at the juncture of her thighs, arched up into her belly. Damn it, just his smell and his heat made her ache. She wanted to rub on him like a cat in heat.
; But she did have her pride, even if it was in shreds. “We have to stop this.”
He backed her up against the only bed—a tall gurney, this was the surgery recovery room, she realized now—and set her down. He stood between her legs and leaned in to kiss her, teasing at the seam of her mouth until she opened to his exploration, then breaking off with a tender tug at her lower lip.
He brought his lips to her ear. “If you really want to stop, we will. But I want you, Little Bit—I haven’t been able to think of anything else since you left me this morning. And you want me—I can read it in your breath, in your heartbeat.” He cupped her mound and squeezed gently. “If I were to touch you, Rayna, would you be wet for me?”
She arched her back in pleasure—and met his lips again as he took her mouth, his tongue sweet with the taste of drunken cherries, hot with need. Every stroke of his tongue, every squeeze of his hand chipped away at her resolve. God, she wanted him so bad, she almost didn’t care what the consequences would be.
“Sam.” She had meant it to be a command; his name came out on a sigh.
He unzipped the top half of her jumpsuit and lifted her undershirt to caress her breasts. “Yeah, honey.” He bent his head to one tight nipple, took it in his mouth and sucked hard. Rayna groaned as sensation arrowed straight to her core.
“Oh, Jesus. Do that again.” When he complied, she writhed against him on the edge of the gurney, her hands gripping his shoulders. Then she remembered what she had been about to say. “We need to talk.”
He moved to the other breast and licked delicately at its dark peak. “Later.” He took her into his mouth and sucked hard until the flesh between her legs swelled and wept for him.
Later. Yeah, later for everything, because she couldn’t think now. He was insisting she strip out of her clothes, and she couldn’t get out of them fast enough. She wanted him naked, too, and the black jacket, pants and boots that he wore as a uniform were gone in seconds. They took a minute just to hold each other, skin to skin, breath to breath, her legs wrapped intimately around his hips. Then he was kissing her, deep, insistent kisses full of fire and sinful promise. His erection was a length of hot iron between them; she moved, wanting to feel him in her most intimate places, desperate to have him inside her. He groaned, pressing closer, sliding along the slick groove between her thighs until she bathed them both in the hot liquid of her arousal.
Fools Rush In (The Interstellar Rescue Series Book 3) Page 11
