Logically, he wanted to assume a rescue shuttle had found them, but after the last twenty-four hours, he wasn’t taking any chances. As the ship hovered closer, the light cutting back toward them, he clamped his hands on Petros and kicked them into a roll, wedging them into the seam where the huge rock met the ground, ending with her on top of him. The boulder blocked Jaren, Petros, and him from direct view of the ship.
“You don’t think they’re here to rescue us?” Petros asked in a low voice.
“Since we got a missile instead of a recovery team, no, I’m not taking any chances.” With a bit of maneuvering—including shifting his hips upward in a way he shouldn’t have been thinking about with a possible traitor perched on top of him and a searchlight sweeping nearby—he pulled his comm out of his pocket. A quick check of the screen revealed he hadn’t missed any calls. If that ship had come from the Swift Brion, they’d have constantly pinged his comm to find him once they came within range.
The lack of communication hardened his suspicions the craft wasn’t here to help.
Nazari still crouched at the bottom of the tree. The ship was coming around, and if she didn’t move, they’d see her on the next sweep. They might, anyway. Their boulder—if it was metium-laced or had other heavy metals in the rock—would interfere with scans and protect Jaren, Petros, and him from pretty much anything. But Nazari didn’t stand a chance. If she moved, it might activate motion sensors. If she stayed put, the ship would find her.
Zander clenched his jaw, frustration and futile impotence burning through him. He had to make a call. One that was going to put Nazari in danger either way. Retreating to the boulder would give her the best chance. But the risk in getting here was huge. Not to mention her injured ankle would slow her. But sitting behind the piss-poor cover of the tree would guarantee her getting caught.
He thumbed his comm, and she murmured a response into hers.
“Nazari, I’m ordering you to make a run on our position. Next time the light cuts toward the outer side of the boulder, go for it as fast as you can.”
“Yes, sir.” She ducked her head, and even from here he could see her shoulders tighten.
He lowered his comm, heart straining in his chest like his ribs were contracting around the organ, restricting the blood flow. Nazari shifted positions, ready to launch into a run at a moment’s notice, still favoring her injured leg.
Christ. He couldn’t just sit here and watch her, knowing how immense the danger was.
“I’m going out to get her.”
He started to slide Petros off him, but she clamped her hands onto his biceps and locked her knees on either side of his hips, keeping him in place.
“You can’t. I won’t let you.”
He tore his gaze from Nazari to look up at Petros.
“You won’t let me?” His fingers contracted where they’d inadvertently landed on her hips when he’d rolled them earlier. “I’m your commanding officer, Lieutenant Marshal. So unless you want an official reprimand for indecorous action endangering another soldier’s life, get the hell off me right now.”
Instead of obeying the command, she planted herself more firmly, fingers digging into his upper arms with surprising strength as she leaned down toward him.
“And what exactly would you call an admiral’s assistant allowing her commanding officer to run into certain danger? I’m sorry, sir. I understand you want to help the sergeant, but you can’t without putting yourself in danger, and you know IPC protocol, probably better than I do. As a captain admiral, you cannot put yourself at risk.”
Damn it to hell. She was right. It was one thing he’d never gotten used to since becoming a captain admiral—that there were those who held his life to be more valuable than the people in the chain of command beneath him. He clenched his jaw, fighting down the instinctive urge to remove Petros against her will and go out for Nazari.
“I can’t leave her out there alone.”
Petros nodded, lessening her hold on him a little. “Then I’ll go. If I don’t make it, when you get out of this godforsaken wilderness, contact Rian Sherron and tell him what happened.”
What the—? Rian Sherron? She started to climb off him, but he surged up to grab her shoulders. “Wait—”
The ripping sound of gunfire had both of them ducking against the rock face. Halfway across the clearing, Nazari went down, blasts from the ship’s automatic nucleon guns tearing up the earth and leaf litter around her.
“No, goddamn it!” He smashed a fist into the ground, the ache of the impact echoing through his wrist up into his arm.
There was no way she could have survived the sustained pounding of ammo. That much firepower at short range would have torn her to shreds. He’d seen it time and again during the early years he’d spent on the ground in the Assimilation Wars.
Petros didn’t say anything but pressed closer to him, covering him as debris and a few ricocheted blasts came their way. With a quick maneuver, he reversed their positions, putting her in the safer shelter between his body and the boulder. Of course she resisted, but he didn’t budge, using his strength and body mass to keep her in place.
“Sir—”
“Shut it. I’ve already lost enough people since yesterday. I’d rather die myself than watch anyone else get cut down.”
Her slate-gray eyes caught his, too much understanding in her gaze as she stared up at him.
The sun had started casting soft golden shafts of light through the forest, the low hum of the ship like a giant angry, discordant insect in the otherwise still dawn.
“I’m sorry.” She murmured the words almost too quietly to hear.
Sorry that he had to inform two families about the death of their loved ones when he got back to the Swift Brion? Or sorry because she had something to do with it? Or at least knew more than she was saying? Either way, the apology cut deeper than it had any right to.
“Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault.”
Unless they were. In which case, she was going to wish she’d never met him. He tore his gaze away from her but then found himself looking at the bloody remains of Nazari. So instead, he closed his eyes, lowered his head, and hoped to hell the ship would give up its search sooner rather than later.
…
The ship didn’t leave until three hours had passed. For the first hour, they stayed exactly as they were—Mae with the smooth, cold rock at her back and Graydon pressed along the length of her front, the warmth of his muscles a blunt contrast to the boulder behind her.
She’d willed herself to not notice him since she’d first found him a step behind her at the spaceport coffee kiosk. And since she’d been subjected to the full body-on-body contact dawn wake-up, she’d tried—damn it, she’d tried—not to be aware of him.
But no matter how she steeled her thoughts or made herself think of something else, her mind kept coming back to a few simple facts. He was a man. A gorgeous, hot, sexy man. A man without one soft spot on his entire body.
Except there was a chance Zander Graydon wasn’t a man at all. Talk about conflicted.
So the hour she’d spent wedged between him and the boulder had been all kinds of uncomfortable. Partly because of her position and the fact that a smaller rock or something was digging into her hip, but mostly because having Graydon all over her was a kind of torture she’d never experienced before.
She couldn’t trust him. But her body—the uncontrollable physical response from having a visually attractive muscled man up close and personal—that sensation she had no way of fully controlling.
After the first hour the ship moved off, and Graydon soundlessly sat up, motioning for her to get upright but stay quiet. After he’d checked the still unconscious Jaren, they’d sat shoulder to shoulder and silent for another two hours until the ship finally left the area.
Graydon pushed to his feet, jaw clenched and expression stoic as he went to stand over Nazari.
Mae stood as well, grimacing at her stiff
legs, but stayed near the boulder, giving Graydon a moment alone with the sergeant. She didn’t know how familiar they’d been with each other, but if Nazari had been on the captain admiral’s crew for any length of time, he would be feeling the loss. Especially on the heels of the other AS officer’s death.
He bowed his head and scrubbed a hand over his short hair, stance rigid and fierce. In that second, he seemed to be nothing but a commanding officer coming to grips with the death of his people. Her heart skipped a slow beat, and she really questioned if Rian’s information had been anywhere near correct. By all accounts, the Reidar were sociopathic, so unless this was some big act for her benefit, Graydon might actually be human.
Maybe Rian had only gotten it half right, and they’d just been subjected to the Reidar’s multiple attempts to kill and replace him.
This was too big to figure out on her own. The best thing she could do was keep Graydon at arm’s length and let Rian solve the problem.
Graydon moved all of a sudden. He spun and stalked back toward her, his expression furious. It wasn’t until the last second that she guessed his intent, but by then it was too late. He corralled her against the boulder, capturing her wrists and pinning them either side of her head, trapping her with his body weight.
“You and I need to have a little chat.”
Her heart tripped against her ribs, and she took in a labored breath, hampered by the press of his chest against hers.
“I don’t understand—”
“Of course you don’t.” He leaned in closer, his tone nothing but ice and stone. “So I’ll have to spell it out for you. You took the universe’s biggest career demotion in leaving UAFA to rejoin the IPC. And you turn up just in time for me to nearly get killed four times in less than a single rotation. How’s this sounding for you so far?”
He thought she had something to do with his near-miss assassination attempts?
Oh, hell no.
He tightened his fingers around her wrists almost imperceptibly, but it was enough to cause a dull ache, enough of a warning that whatever she said next was going to dictate whether she walked out of this forest under her own steam or got dragged.
“And just when you’re about to dash out to help Nazari”—his voice had gotten lower, with understated power, like the stillness before one mother of a storm—“you tell me that if you die, I need to call up one of my oldest friends to tell him what happened to you. So what the hell is going on here that I don’t know about, Petros? And don’t try to tell me it’s nothing. I didn’t make captain admiral on my stunning good looks alone.”
Goddamn it, she was screwed. Somehow, she had to lie and convince Graydon that she had nothing to do with whoever was trying to kill him. And she got the feeling he’d detect every falsehood that spilled out of her mouth.
Then maybe she wouldn’t lie. Maybe she’d simply withhold enough truth so she wouldn’t betray Rian and hopefully persuade Graydon that she had nothing to do with the assassination attempts.
“How do you know Rian Sherron?” he demanded when she didn’t respond right away.
That was easy enough to answer. “We served together out of the station Vaile One for over a year when I first joined the military. After that, we usually managed to see each other every few weeks, except for about eight months—”
“When he was marooned on Minnea, cut off from the supply runners. With me.”
She gave a short, single nod. “And when he was presumed KIA for nearly three years. I was the one who found him, got him back on his feet, and reinstated to the IPC.”
That last piece of information seemed to wind Graydon down a notch, and he lessened the pressure of his weight against her.
“You brought him back? Then you knew about our history before you got here.”
Some of the fury drained from his hard gaze. Maybe he’d be a little more reasonable now.
“I know some things, but most of them I can’t tell you.” She grabbed in a short, calming breath. Because since they were sharing, there was one thing she needed to be clear on. “But maybe you can tell me who wants to see you dead.”
“I have no frecking idea.” The last shreds of anger in his gaze sharpened on her. “But maybe I’m not the target. Are you still working for UAFA?”
She pressed her lips together. If she didn’t say anything, sure, he’d draw his own conclusions, but he wouldn’t know anything for certain.
He cursed and pushed off from her, stalking a short few steps away before stopping. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t cuff you for the walk out of here, pending a full investigation once we get back to the Swift Brion?”
She rubbed a thumb over her slightly aching wrist, frustrated that she’d agreed to put herself in this position. “You have my assurance that I want to get you out of this wilderness alive as much as I want to get myself out. If you trust Rian, then that’s all you need to trust me, too.”
It was a long shot, but the only play she had right now.
Graydon laughed, harsh and skeptical. “That’s an awfully unsteady ledge you’re standing on there.”
She shrugged with a carelessness she wasn’t feeling. “Take it or leave it, but it’s all you’re getting right now.”
He muttered something under his breath, but she was too far away to hear it. However, it seemed the conversation was over for the moment, because he went to the packs and pulled out the trowel he’d used to dig the fire pit the night before.
“We’re burying the remains before we go. I’m not leaving Nazari to wild animals.”
Without waiting for her to reply, he turned and walked a few feet from the sergeant’s body, kneeling to dig the small shovel into the soft earth. With a small, tired sigh, she went to retrieve another trowel from one of the other packs and silently joined him.
They still had two days’ hard hiking ahead of them and Jaren to care for. If they were going to make it out alive, then they had to rely on each other, no matter how they felt about each other.
Chapter Seven
Nadira
Rian walked onto the bridge, the viewport filled with nav data as Lianna reviewed her flight plan to Barasa for the millionth time. At least with a borderline-obsessive nav-slash-engineer, they weren’t likely to get lost in space, and he could be confident his ship always ran at optimal capacity.
“Any word from—”
“Lieutenant Marshal Petros?” Lianna shot him an exasperated look, though it strayed into the territory of downright annoyed. “Don’t you think you’d know about it by now if there was?”
“Watch the attitude, McKenzie.”
Ever since Tannin had shown him the hacked Reidar list of government and military officials, a sense of urgency had steadily built in the depths of him, like he had to do something about the situation now. Like he was missing something vital, making him second-guess whether he’d gambled on the right game plan in sending Mae after Zander while he followed up the other lead of Tannin’s childhood home planet.
Forcing down the antsy need to do something, he sat in his seat and brought up the supply log Zahli had input earlier. They had enough fresh produce to get them through a week, maybe nine days if they stretched it. After that it’d be repli-rations for another week until their last stop before Barasa.
“What are the locals up to?” Lianna asked as she cleared the data, leaving them with a view of Liese’s sad excuse for a spaceport. Evening shadows stretched long fingers across the short grass. Beyond the rough fence, there weren’t any IPC officers manning the gatehouse yet again. Too bad if something happened, like a bunch of wanted intergalactic terrorists landed their ship here.
“Tannin commed me to report that the parade was just finishing up. The party festival is getting into full swing in the town square and other public spaces around the city. Seems everyone is out to celebrate.”
Lianna swiveled her chair to face him. “Do you really think they’ll leave the site unattended? Surely they’ll have one or two people ther
e?”
“These people haven’t got the first clue about security. Nothing has ever threatened their existence. The Assimilation Wars never made it this far. The IPC officers aren’t real. They’re local boys who were given the lowest possible rank of community protection officer and a uniform. I doubt they’ve had even one day of training. And right now, they’re too interested in celebrating their apparent success.”
His comm chimed before Lianna could answer, the signal ID telling him it was Callan. “Go ahead, Roarke, what’s the situation?”
“The local brew has started flowing. Seems like now is as good a time as any if we’re going.”
“All right, comm everyone and let them know we’re going to move. If they want to come, meet us at the ship. I’ll be departing in five minutes.”
Callan confirmed and then cut the signal.
“Are you coming?” Rian asked Lianna as he stood.
She nodded and turned to tab her screen offline. The two of them made their way down to the cargo bay, where Jensen, the ship’s mechanic, tinkered with an old engine part. It’d been replaced months ago, but the mech was still trying to figure out a way to fix it.
Rian had just found a comfortable position leaning against a crate when light footfalls on the stairs caught his attention. He glanced up to see Ella gliding down the steps wearing one of her usual flowing outfits Zahli had procured for her at some point in the last few weeks. The garment somehow managed to seem demure and damned provocative all at once.
“You in need of something, princess?” He watched as she stepped off the last stair and came toward him.
“I would like to come, if you have no objections.”
Hell. Really? She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d walked out here naked. And something like that would have seriously jolted his system.
“Let me get this straight. You’re going to leave the ship of your own free will, without me ordering you to. And you’re actively going to take part in something that has to do with the Reidar?”
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