Damn it, the bluff hadn’t worked. Obviously Forster hadn’t avoided capture this long by being a gullible moron. Zander glanced down at Mae, who gave an almost imperceptible shrug.
“That’s what I thought.” Forster took two steps back as his crew maneuvered the crate through the airlock. “Nice seeing you again, Captain Admiral. Tell the other upstanding members of the IPC I said good journey and better luck next time.”
Mae grabbed his arm, and he risked taking his gaze off the retreating Forster, who still had his pistol aimed in their direction.
“Zander, we should go with him.”
“What?”
Never mind Forster’s unerring aim, Mae had succeeded in gaining his undivided attention with that crazy little announcement.
“We can’t take his ship, so instead, we should go with him and organize to meet Rian wherever the Ebony Winter is delivering that mining equipment. It’s perfect. The Reidar will never think to look for you onboard the ship of a wanted illegal salvager, and I’m betting whatever seedy world Forster is flying to next will be the ideal place to meet Rian and keep us all off the grid.”
“Yeah, they’ll never think to look for me there because I’d never, in all the fiery pits of Erebus, ever go.” And he wasn’t going now. Sticking to their original plan of going to the Isis Delta station would work just fine.
“Seriously, Zander. I’ve gotten us this far since we left the hotel. You have to trust me.” The grip on his arm tightened, and her gray eyes implored him in a way that broke down his resolve in zero-point-one nanoseconds flat. Because he wanted to trust her. God, how he wanted that. But he couldn’t—he was too damned smart for that.
Breaking away from her entreating stare, he nodded his chin toward Forster, who monitored his crew’s progress while keeping the gun on them. “It’s him I don’t trust. He’d never help us, anyway. We’re the very definition of mortal enemies.”
She took two steps forward, tugging his arm. “We won’t know unless we ask.”
With a long sigh, he surrendered and followed her over to the airlock, reluctance in every step he took. Yeah, they were running short on viable options that would keep them alive, but this seemed like a monumentally bad idea.
“Captain Forster.” Mae stopped a few meters away, seeming unfazed by the gun in his hand. “We’ve got a proposition for you.”
Forster’s gaze glinted with unforgiving hardness. “I’m not going to agree to any sort of deal that features me being sent to Erebus for the rest of my life.”
“It’s nothing like that.” Mae shook her head and dropped the grip she had on Zander’s arm, taking another few steps forward.
Zander clenched his fists, resisting the caveman-like urge to pull her back and use his body to shield her from danger. She’d proven over and over in the last four days that she could handle herself, so he had to give her free rein, even if his newfound primitive male instincts didn’t like it.
“You were right. We don’t have any backup. In fact, no one knows we’re even on this shuttle.”
“Mae!” Shock stormed through him, and he took a step forward, earning him Forster’s attention and the aim of that damned gun. He stopped and held his hands out but sent the man a sharp glare.
Hell, now Forster could kill them both and eject their bodies out into space, and no one would ever know what had happen to them. Still, if the son of a bitch so much as laid a finger on Mae, all the guns in the universe wouldn’t stop him from ripping the scum bastard’s throat out.
“Okay, you’ve got my attention. What kind of proposition are we talking about?”
“Take us with you, to wherever you’re delivering that mining equipment, and we want one comm-link during the journey to have someone meet us. I can pay you double the standard passenger fare for your trouble.”
Forster laughed and let the weapon drop toward the ground. His crew had finished loading the crate, and a man and a woman came over to join him.
“You hear that, guys? Lieutenant Marshal Petros here thinks we’re dumb enough to take a couple of IPC military on a joyride across the galaxy. Not only that, they want access to a comm-link. Seriously, you think I’d fall for that ambush?”
Neither of his crew laughed, though the woman did look somewhat amused.
Zander leaned toward Mae, not lowering his hands in case Forster decided to line him up with the gun again. “Mae, this is a bad idea. Let’s just stick to the plan of contacting Rian once we get to Isis Delta.”
“Rian?” Forster interrupted. “You don’t mean Rian Sherron, ex-IPC war hero, now wanted intergalactic terrorist?”
“It really must be true that everyone in the universe knows the guy,” Mae muttered, sounding exasperated.
“Salvagers and traders talk. I heard all about him stealing some big, important cargo from some rich prig of a multiversal-corporation CEO. Sounded right up my alley.” Forster holstered his weapon and crossed his arms, gaze sharp with interest. “Why are you organizing to meet Sherron? Because if it’s some plan to trap him, I might have something mighty harsh to say about that. And I’ll be punctuating it with one of my guns.”
“Those charges against Rian are false. I can tell you that with certainty.” Mae’s tone conveyed all the conviction she had in Rian. She glanced up at Zander, but he couldn’t get a clear read on her expression. “And we’re going to meet him because we’re on the run from the IPC. Rian is an old friend of ours. The only one who can help us.”
Forster grinned as if she’d told the joke of the century. But after a long, silent moment, in which Mae stared him down with just the right amount of gravity, the marauder’s smile faded. “And just what could Captain Admiral stick-up-the-ass Graydon have done so he had to go on the run from his own people?”
Stick up the ass? Zander clenched his teeth against the swelling need to return the insult. He could think of a few choice words to describe Forster. But since Mae decided they needed the guy’s help, he’d save them up for a more opportune time.
“That’s not important.” He forced the words out through a rigid jaw. “All you need to know is Captain Admiral Graydon and Lieutenant Marshal Petros won’t be traced to you, because we’re traveling under false identities. We don’t want any trouble, just a ride and a comm-link to Rian Sherron.”
Forster stared at them. “Everyone onboard does their bit, and if you come, you’ll be expected to do a fair share of work. And I’ll take triple the standard passenger fare.”
Zander crossed his arms. “I am not doing anything illegal.”
“God forbid I ask the upstanding captain admiral to get his hands dirty.” Forster actually rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to send you out on a salvage or anything like that, I’m talking general shipbound duties. Cooking, cleaning. The usual.”
“Qae, you can’t really be thinking about letting these two on the ship? It’s suicide!” the woman spoke up.
“It’ll be fine, Lucie. If they cause us any trouble, we’ll vent their dead bodies into the black beyond.”
How comforting. Zander glanced at Mae and hoped she could read the what the hell are we doing? on his face.
“I’ll pay you double the standard fare, plus we’ll do our share, and we won’t cause you trouble,” Mae agreed on their behalf. She stepped forward and held out her hand.
Forster glanced at the extended limb then took her hand. But instead of shaking it, he yanked her up against his body. “You’ve got a deal. How exactly would you like to settle that?”
Heat rushed Zander, and everything blurred out of focus, except for the hyper-clear image of Forster holding Mae against him. He stomped forward and wrenched her back. She stumbled off balance, since Forster didn’t resist. “Touch her again, and the next deal you’ll make will be with my knife.”
Forster grinned and held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Sorry, no offense intended.”
The amused glint in the man’s eye kicked his already hot temper up another notch. Why did
he get the feeling he’d just revealed an important hand and lost the game before it had started?
Mae shrugged out of his hold and frowned at him. “Thanks. I really like being jerked around like a piece of meat between two dogs.”
Ouch. Maybe he’d acted a little rash, and possessive…and chauvinistic. But Forster touching her like that sent him into a level of pissed off he had no hope of controlling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Mae flicked him a disgusted look and then stalked past Forster, through the airlock, and disappeared into the ship beyond.
Forster stepped aside and waved an arm in the direction of the hatchway.
“Welcome aboard the Ebony Winter. Guided tours of the craft will not be provided, the menu is limited, and the bunks are like lying on a wooden board. Good journey to all passengers en route to destinations unknown.”
Zander shot the smart-ass a sour glare as he passed. “Keep the unamusing commentary to yourself, and we should get through this trip without killing each other.”
Forster followed him through the airlock. “How about you pull that stick out of your ass and we’ll see?”
God help him, this was going to be the stuff of nightmares.
Chapter Fifteen
Nadira
Rian took a long swallow of the local distilled beverage, some paint-stripping concoction called Amrita. The stuff sure as hell didn’t taste sweet, and it didn’t come close to measuring up to a hit of Violaine, but it would take the edge off his dark thoughts and agitated mood. And that was the only important thing.
Across the restaurant-slash-bar, his crew were enjoying their last hour of freedom before they shipped out, heading on an intercept with the Swift Brion. Ever since that joke of a comm-link with the bastard alien pretending to be Zander Graydon, Rian’s fingers had been itching. The only way to relieve the irritation? Wrap his hands around the neck of the Reidar who’d replaced his friend and choke the life out of the thing.
The fact that he’d let Zander walk off his ship to his death all those weeks ago had ridden him relentlessly. He hadn’t tried to save the man who’d been all but a brother to him.
He gestured for the barman to top up his glass then took his drink to the table, where everyone was laughing over one of the few light stories Tannin had from his time living on the prison planet Erebus.
As Rian sat down, an automated server drone cleared away empty plates from the surface.
“How long until departure, Rian?” Zahli asked from where she sat next to him.
He glanced at the clock above the bar. “Less than an hour.”
She stood, tugging at Tannin’s arm. “Let’s go get a few last dances in before we call it a night.”
The love-struck tech analyst nodded and rose to wind his arm around his fiancée. The sight of them together, so happy, made Rian equal parts pissed off and overjoyed that his sister had apparently found bliss with the man.
He knocked back another mouthful of liquor, not wanting to think too closely about the pissed-off part. His temper had gotten closer and closer to the edge ever since they’d landed on this damned world. And with each new revelation—always somehow linking back to the Reidar—he got closer and closer to that black void where his soul used to be, nearer to lashing out in an explosion of darkness he had no way to control. The shadows inside him the Reidar created wanted blood, and he could only appease them with the promise of soon for so long.
The other members of his crew had drifted off to the dance floor and gaming tables, leaving him alone with none other than Ella. Frecking christ. The priestess had that look again as she stared at him, the one that was part understanding, part patience…kind of like the expression a mother would bestow on an unruly toddler.
“You in need of something, princess?” He took another mouthful of his drink, the glass getting empty too fast.
She shook her head and gracefully rose to her feet. “I believe I shall retire to the ship and await everyone’s return.”
He nodded and stared over at where Callan and Jensen played a game of cards. Getting into some double-meaning conversation with Ella grated on him at the best of times. Tonight, he couldn’t do it, not with all the bad things bubbling under the surface of his civility.
“Enjoy the remainder of your evening,” she murmured.
From the corner of his eye, he caught the lingering look she sent him before gliding off into the crowd and then out into the night-shadowed street. Maybe he should have sent one of the crew to escort her. A gentleman, or even a half-decent captain, would have. But no. Ella had some freaky mind abilities. She could take care of herself. Besides, it wasn’t the first time she’d walked alone between the ship and a city in the past weeks. He wasn’t her keeper and didn’t ever intend to be.
Instead of sitting alone at the table like a brooding loser, he went to join Callan and Sen at cards. Not in the mood for it, he cast only a half-interested glance over his hand. As he selected the numbers he wanted to play, a shot of pure alarm erupted through him, sure as if someone had dosed him up with some hyperactive designer drug.
He dropped the cards and stood fast enough to knock over the chair he’d been sitting on, hands on the grips of his pistols, making the men sitting nearby glance warily at him. What the hell? What was this cramping need through his midsection to sprint out of the bar to do— Christ, he didn’t even know what. Just that he had to be somewhere right now.
“What’s up?” Callan asked. Rian glanced down at his two men, who both looked at him with varying expressions that suggested he might be losing his shite. Goddamn, maybe he finally was.
“I’m not sure. Just…something isn’t right.” Yeah, ’cos that didn’t sound at all lame. Or totally frecking crazy.
He took a breath and tried to force himself to sit back down and get on with the cards like a sane person. But another surge of anxiety impacted him, this one cutting sharp through his chest until it felt like his heart was about to explode through his ribs. With a slicing gasp of air, he clamped a hand over his chest. Both Callan and Sen bolted out of their chairs. Before either of them could grab him, he lurched into the crowd, running with an unsteady gait out into the night. The cooler air didn’t help the suffocating sensation, but it gave him some clarity.
Surrendering to the compulsions surging like a tidal wave through his blood, he sprinted down the street, taking turns through alleys and streets as though he had a direction in mind, when truthfully, he had no god-given idea where the hell his legs were taking him.
Buildings gave way to a long stretch of neatly trimmed grass, which led into light-colored sand gleaming under the moonlight. Beyond that, a lake reflected a thousand small images of the moon. He stopped, chest heaving, unable to force enough air into his lungs or calm his racing heart.
Two figures embraced near where grass gave way to sand. No, not embracing…struggling. He caught a flash of light, airy, silver-blue material.
Ella.
The knife was in his hand before he’d finished thinking her name. In what seemed like only a few short steps, he’d crossed the distance separating them and saw the man’s pants sagged around his hips, while the upper half of Ella’s dress had been torn, exposing most of her chest.
Black, oily rage exploded through his already burning limbs, and Rian grabbed the man by the collar. He yanked, and the man turned on him with an angry, “Hey!”
Except then his eyes widened, and he flinched back. But the bastard had nowhere to go, because Rian’s fingers had closed like a vise around the man’s neck and weren’t going to unclamp.
Rian brought the knife up, nothing but hot retribution blazing through his mind. This piece of garbage had dared touch Miriella with unclean intentions, had ripped her dress, frightened her, and had no doubt put his scum-licking hands on her, in places no other man had a right to touch.
The darkness inside him burst free, and he reveled in the satisfaction of releasing his usual tight rein of control, letting the shadow
s inside him suffuse every cell of his body. In this state, everything became clear and easy to process.
With a slight altering of his grip on the knife, Rian rammed it upward, right into the bastard’s heart.
“Rian, no!” Ella grabbed his biceps, but nothing could stop him now. The darkness had taken over, and it relished the sensation of warm blood flowing over his hand. The heady gratification of revenge and power ran pure and clear through his veins, undiluted by any guilty morals.
He twisted the knife, and the man jerked, a gurgle rising from his throat, then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fell limp. Rian didn’t even try to take the weight; he simply let the man drop like a stone at his feet, pulling his knife free as the body came away.
“Oh my stars, Rian…” Ella still held onto his arm, and he glanced down at her.
In the bright moonlight, her moss-colored eyes were wide, face wet with tears, and expression as animated as he’d ever seen it, shock and distress written in the beautiful lines of her features. The tattered clothes only added to the picture of dangerous vulnerability. He glanced down at himself, intending to offer his shirt to cover her up, but it was blood spattered. Frecking hell. If he could kill that bastard all over again, he would in an instant.
“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” His voice came out gravelly and uneven, a tenor of violence underscoring the words.
She shook her head and sniffed. “I’m fine. He didn’t really hurt me. But, oh, deity, you killed him.”
He reached up and gripped her shoulder with his unbloodied hand. “What did you expect me to do when I found some scum bastard trying to rape you?”
She flinched, but her grip tightened on his arm. “You could have simply apprehended him. Left it for the local authorities to deal with.”
He scoffed and pulled his arm free—a lot more gently than he usually would, so he didn’t send her sprawling.
Quantum Page 17
