by Nina Croft
"Do you think it's stuck like that until I let you go?" she asked. "My, such interesting possibilities."
Zach didn't answer, just glared his fury at her.
"No, look, it's wilting already." She sighed. "What a pity."
He ground his teeth.
"Right then, I'll be off. Got a rendezvous to make, you know."
She stood in the doorway for a moment, waggled her fingers, and she was gone.
"Come back here, you bitch. Let me go!"
Zach lay on the floor, staring at the closed door. There wasn't a lot else he could do. He tried to tell himself she wouldn't leave him like this. After all, she'd kissed him. Well, she'd kissed him back, at any rate. A woman didn't kiss a man and then do something like this. No, she was simply making a point, flexing her muscles.
She would be back in a few minutes. He closed his eyes and waited.
Nothing happened.
He opened his eyes and attempted to move, but apart from raising his head a few inches from the floor he was totally paralyzed. "Bitch."
He supposed he couldn't blame her entirely for the mess his life was in. But he could try. His whole existence had taken a downward turn after she stole his ship. From hero to village idiot in one quick move. Who the hell lost a spaceship?
Eventually people had forgotten, and he'd clawed his way back up, and then Talmare had happened.
From hero to monster.
At the thought of Talmare, the familiar rage flooded his mind. Damn Pieter Sanderson. Pieter had pretended to be his friend. Would probably still be pretending if Zach hadn't found out what he was up to. He could still scarcely believe it. He also couldn't believe he had been stupid enough to go to Pieter with what he had discovered. Tried to reason with him, but back then, he hadn't seen the whole of his plans.
The man was a megalomaniac who would turn the civilized world into chaos in his ego trip for power. But he'd set Zach up well and true. Zach had heard what they were calling him, "The Tiger of Talmare". He knew what he was accused of.
He remembered Mel's words, "eating flesh", she'd said. Christ, did people really believe that? Did she believe it?
It was just as well that there had been a delegation from the Intergalactic Agency on Talmare at the time, or Zach was sure he would have ended up dead. He'd surrendered himself, and even Pieter wasn't stupid enough to challenge the Agency. Yet. Though Zach knew the time was fast approaching.
Still, it looked as though Pieter was going to get his chance to finish him off after all.
Would the little pirate really hand him over to be killed?
Probably.
And was she going to leave him here, like this, for the whole journey?
It seemed likely.
Though "little" wasn't a good word to describe her, except compared to him. She was tall for a woman, and very striking, unforgettable really.
He'd recognized her immediately; her blue-black hair might be short now, but those eyes were unmistakable. He remembered the feel of her under him. No, she wasn't his type, but it had felt pretty damn good all the same. She might not be soft, but she was definitely all woman. And her lips had been soft when she kissed him. Well, kissed him back.
That had felt pretty damn good as well.
He glanced down his body and realized that while his nerves might be paralyzed, it was doing nothing to stop the blood flow.
A shadow passed the cell door and paused. A face peered in, and he swore softly.
He'd never been a particularly modest man, but the idea of lying here, stark naked, with a stiffy, completely unable to move, was not his idea of fun. He forced his thoughts on to something unpleasant, anything to get his body under control. Pieter Sanderson, the governor of Talmare. That should do it. Pieter and his maniac plot to take over the Universe.
The face disappeared, but over the next couple of hours, it was replaced by a series of faces, all female, all peering in at him like he was some sort of zoo specimen. One even waggled her fingers through the glass and grinned. He was sure he recognized the same faces over and over again—at least one of them was green, and that was hard to miss.
The first couple of times, he shouted. They took no notice, and after that, he did his best to ignore them.
Finally, what seemed like a long time later, he heard the door click open. He rolled his eyes in that direction; ready to tell her exactly what he thought of her and her ship and her crew and anything else he could think of. But it wasn't her.
It was another woman, a redhead, with bright green eyes and freckles across her nose. Zach remembered her; she had been with Melissa Stark when she stole his ship. She entered the room warily, as if expecting him to leap on her.
Chance would be a fine fucking thing. She carried a bundle that she placed on the bed, and she turned to go.
"Hey, wait."
She paused and turned back slowly. Looking down at him, her gaze skimmed his body before returning to his face. A slight smile lifted the corners of her lips. "Yes?"
"Is she going to keep me like this forever?"
"Mel?"
"Yes, Mel. Is she going to leave me here?"
She raised a small box she held in her palm. "Actually, she left it up to me."
"Really?"
Zach had never had any problem getting women. He was aware that some of them were just attracted to the exotic and even more were attracted to the danger they associated with him. But whatever the reason, he knew they found him desirable. He tried his best smile, the slightly lopsided one that normally had them falling for him in droves. She didn't seem impressed. He sighed. "So, are you going to let me go?"
"I might."
He closed his eyes. He was stuck on a ship—his ship—with the biggest bunch of bitches in the known universe. Why him? What had he done to deserve this? He supposed he could try begging. He opened his eyes again.
"Please." The word nearly stuck in his throat, but he managed to choke it out.
She smiled but turned and left. The door clicked shut behind her, and Zach cursed loudly.
But a moment later, the icy grip that held him in place relaxed. His head fell back to the floor, and for a minute, he lay there. He sat up slowly. Everything seemed to be working okay, but he was still weak. That was the cryo. He'd never been in cryo before, but he'd heard other people say it could knock you out.
And he was starving.
He tugged at the bracelets on his wrist, but they were locked in place. Which meant they could paralyze him again anytime they liked.
The thought was not a happy one.
He needed to get out of here.
Rising to his feet, he swayed; he was still unsteady, but his strength was seeping back. He tottered to the door; it was locked, as expected. He tried pressing his palm to the panel, but nothing happened. Next, he went to the cot. Sinking down, he investigated the bundle and found a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt, both black. He pulled on the pants and felt immediately better.
The T-shirt was an impossibility; no way was it going to stretch over his shoulders, but he could live with that.
Once decently covered, he turned his attention to his surroundings. The room wasn't small, but it was crowded with stuff. He sifted through some. "Crap," he said, tossing an obsolete wave reader onto the floor. After ten minutes, he gave up, pushed the rest of the rubbish from the cot, and stretched out.
He needed to take stock. He wasn't dead yet, but he wouldn't last for long once Pieter got hold of him. He wondered why he had even kept him alive this long. Why not have him killed straight away? The only reason he could come up with was Pieter wanted to make sure that he hadn't shared his discovery with anyone else. He wished he had.
So a plan. First, get the little pirate to let him go, then inform the authorities what Pieter was up to, and finally, get his life back. No, he decided, what he really needed to do was get the little pirate to take him where he needed to go, or better yet, get her to give him his ship back.
He
was sure he could persuade her, after all, she was a woman, and she'd kissed him. A little sweet talk, a little seduction, she'd be eating out of his hands.
He felt much better once he had a plan. The feeling didn't last for long. Just long enough for him to realize what a load of crap his "plan" was, and that he was very likely a dead man.
Still, it was the only plan he had. The problem was, in order for it to be implemented, he needed her here, and so far, hers hadn't been one of the faces peering in through the window. But she'd come. She wouldn't be able to resist coming.
In the meantime, it wouldn't hurt to get the crew on his side. The next time a face appeared at the window, he gave them his best boyish smile.
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Chapter Three
Bloody Zachary Knight. He'd only been on her ship for two days, and he was already causing havoc.
Mel glared around the table at her crew. "Where the hell are your hardcore mercenary sensibilities?" she asked. "You're supposed to be tough guys, well, tough girls. You're not supposed to be pushovers for the first man who comes along."
"But Mel," Angie said, "he only wants to talk to you."
"He wants to help you," Grace added.
"Help me? Help me how, for God's sake?"
"He says he has really important information. He says the Agency will get you a pardon if you give it to them."
"I don't want a pardon, I like being a pirate."
"And he can get us a new space ship."
"I like this one."
"He says he knows where Sanderson's money is hidden."
Mel raised her hands and clapped. "Enough, enough already. We're taking him to the rendezvous, we're collecting our money, and that's it."
"But Mel, he fixed the intercom in the cell," Darla said. "If we let him out, he says he can fix a lot of other things as well."
"I don't believe this," Mel muttered. He was subverting her crew. Her crew of confirmed man-haters. "Where has 'all men are bastards' gone?" She turned to Darla. "And have you forgotten he's dangerous and he eats babies?"
"Don't be silly, Mel. That's just propaganda. Besides, he told me I had beautiful eyes."
"And he told us we have beautiful hair," Angie added.
Mel looked at her in amazement. Angie and Grace were twins, both plant hybrids, born and bred in an experimental laboratory. Mel had discovered them five years ago while The Revenge was doing a routine delivery job. She'd freed them—how could she not after her own upbringing—but that had been one more job they hadn't been paid for.
Angie had olive skin, eyes like emeralds, and hair like polished jade. Striking maybe, but hardly conventionally beautiful.
"It's green," she said.
"So?"
Mel couldn't believe what she was hearing. She shook her head in disgust, took a mouthful of food, and scowled. "What is this shit?"
"Raspberry Jello."
"I hate Jello," she muttered.
"I bet it's Zachary's favourite, though," Leila murmured from beside her. Leila was the only one who hadn't been taken in by the charming act.
Mel slammed her plate down on the table. Everyone stopped eating and looked at her warily.
"Do any of you know what happens if we don't get paid for this job?"
Darla shifted in her seat. "I do."
"And would you like to explain it for the benefit of the rest of them that haven't quite managed to grasp it?"
Darla sighed. "If we don't get some spare parts soon, The Revenge will literally fall apart. She's held together with bits of string."
"Okay," Mel said, "so does that make things clear?"
"But..."
"No 'buts'. We are going to the rendezvous, we're handing him over, and we're getting paid. I don't have an option, which means neither do you. So from now on, you lot just stay out of his way."
"But Mel, he needs to eat."
"Does he?" she answered darkly. "If that's the case, Leila can take his meals."
"She'd probably poison him."
Mel grinned. "Yup." She put down her spoon and stood up. "Have you got the activator for his restraints?" she asked Darla.
Darla pulled the box out of her pocket and passed it to Mel. "Here, but I really don't think you'll need it. He's docile as a lamb."
Mel rolled her eyes. This was truly unbelievable. She snatched the activator from Darla's hand and stalked out of the room.
She slowed down as soon as she was alone.
She'd been half way to his cell so many times over the last couple of days it was embarrassing. Or would be, if anyone knew.
There was no need for her to see him. That's what had stopped her from completing the journey, so far. They were another two days out from the rendezvous point; she should shut him out of her mind, get there, hand him over, and forget he ever existed.
She'd told the truth, they did need the money, desperately. So she had to do this. She was responsible for all their lives; they had made her responsible when they made her captain.
On top of that, she was being haunted by that goddamn kiss. She could still feel him, taste him on her lips. And she needed to prove to herself that it didn't matter. That's why she was going to see him. To prove he meant absolutely nothing to her. Nothing at all.
She paused outside the cell door, slipped the activator into her pants pocket, and pressed her palm to the lock. The door slid open.
He lounged on the cot, a reader in his hands. Someone had cut his hair; it was as short now as when she'd first seen him ten years ago, and he wore black pants but was naked from the waist up.
She scowled. Hadn't she told Darla to get him some clothes?
Instead, he was sitting around half-naked, flaunting his bare chest in front of her crew. He looked up, wariness entering his cat's eyes as he saw her loitering in the doorway. She stepped into the cell, and the door shut behind her.
He put the reader down. "We need to talk," he said.
"We do? Well, talk then."
He thought for a moment. "Sanderson is evil."
Mel shrugged and put on her best cold-eyed killer expression. "So am I."
"Of course you are, sweetheart."
His words really pissed her off. It didn't help that they were accompanied by a smile, a sort of lopsided, boyish grin. The smile she knew was turning the rest of her crew to mush. But not her.
She was tougher than that.
She slipped her hand into her pocket and pressed the green button.
He went instantly still, his eyes glaring murder. "You bitch."
She grinned. "See, evil." She pressed the red button. He glowered at her and slowly uncoiled his body from the cot. He was so big, nearly a head taller than she was, and she had to force herself to stand her ground.
"Actually," she said, "I dropped in to tell you that from now on, Leila will be bringing your food."
He scowled. "Don't let that bloodthirsty little bitch near me."
Mel grinned again. "She likes you as well."
"So what's this for? Your crew giving you trouble? Don't they like the idea of handing an innocent man over to a psychopathic maniac?"
"Purely a safety precaution. The poor things haven't seen a man in a long time, and desperate women stop being choosey after a while."
"Not you though?"
"No, so don't bother trying any of that charming shit on me. It won't work."
"Charming shit?" he asked in a voice like warm honey. It was a beautiful voice, it made her ears tingle, and it pissed her off all over again.
She fingered the activator in her pocket. "Yeah, charming shit. You know the sort of thing I mean. 'Oh Darla, you have got beautiful eyes,'" she mimicked.
Zach grinned. "She has."
"Well, I haven't," Mel snarled. "So don't waste your breath."
He tilted his head to one side and regarded her thoughtfully. "No, they're not beautiful," he said after a minute of uncomfortable silence. "The first time I saw you, I thought they were hawk's eyes�
�fierce, predatory."
"Yeah, well, that's me, fierce and predatory, so don't forget it."
"But you do have a beautiful mouth."
"What?" The word was out before she could stop it, and satisfaction glinted in his eyes.
"It's full and soft and tastes of raspberries."
