Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  “Will it scan this?” Brax opened the port on his cracked computer.

  Pavlenko eyed the device. “I think so. You rob a museum on the way here?”

  Brax smiled tightly and did not answer. Makkon wondered if part of why Pavlenko wasn’t fighting them now was because she was curious as to who they were and what they wanted. She’d been calling him a pirate all along, but he didn’t know if she believed that.

  “Go ahead and say your message,” Pavlenko said. “It’s recording.”

  Brax stepped up beside her, resting his hand on the back of her neck. She gave him a murderous look, but he merely gazed toward the display, toward the camera pickup. Makkon knew he wasn’t the speaker for this, but he folded his arms across his chest and tried to look intimidating.

  “Councilman, Admiral,” Brax said smoothly, as if he had been rehearsing this. “I am Captain Tiger Brax—look me up if you wish. I’ve commandeered your Frost Station Alpha, capturing all of the civilian scientists and everything inside. Soldier, please verify that this is true.” Brax looked at Pavlenko.

  She glared daggers back at him. Please? That was surely the first time Brax had used the word in a long time.

  Pavlenko took a deep breath, and Makkon stepped forward, worried she was about to blurt all the information she had gathered. He pressed his hand into her back. He couldn’t bring himself to pull a weapon on her, but he trusted she knew what they could do by now and that she believed the threat was real. Her body tensed.

  “Lieutenant Tamryn Pavlenko,” she said. “Service number 9837-383-28C. Current survivors are myself, Corporal Powell, Corporal Cox, and possibly Sergeant Gruzinsky, but he’s grievously injured, and we don’t have a doctor. As far as I know, Sergeant Blazer, our medic, was killed. Most of the scientists are alive, so far.”

  Brax opened his mouth, clearly intending to take over, but Pavlenko added, “Tell my father he was right. And that I love him.”

  Brax’s hand tightened on her neck, telling her to stop talking. Then he pushed her back toward Makkon so he could finish. He caught her, immediately feeling guilty for using his presence to threaten Pavlenko. The message to her father, the reminder that she was young and her parents were probably all she had, made him wish anew that they weren’t on opposite sides.

  “If you wish to have your station returned to you,” Brax said, “and for the scientists to remain alive, then you will comply with the demands in the document I’m sending and have the requested equipment delivered in one of your ships. If anything except a ship carrying the requested equipment shows up at our door, we will kill everyone here and blow up the station.”

  Brax faced Pavlenko. “Send the message with my attachment.” His voice was cold, and he glared suspiciously at her.

  Makkon didn’t know why. The information she had given was acceptable. If anything, it would help their cause for the government to know how many of the station’s soldiers their team had dispatched.

  Pavlenko stepped forward and did as asked. As soon as she lowered her hands, Brax grabbed her arm hard enough to elicit a gasp of pain.

  “What are you doing?” Makkon stepped forward and grabbed Brax’s arm.

  “What was that little addition there? The message to your supposed father? Code words?”

  Makkon frowned. He hadn’t seen that message as some cryptic pass phrase at all. It had seemed perfectly reasonable. Pavlenko wasn’t sure if she would live, and she wanted one last message to make its way home to her parents.

  “Code words, Brax? Really? She’s a junior officer. Who would have given her special phrases to use when dealing with the government?”

  Brax’s eyes remained narrowed, but he shrugged and released her after looking pointedly at Makkon’s hand.

  “Perhaps you are right, but I don’t trust her,” Brax said.

  “Nor do I. She’s cunning.” And brave. And a fighter. Makkon sighed at himself and studied the side of Pavlenko’s face, trying to decide if she looked smug, like someone who had pulled something over on them. She merely looked tired, almost defeated, her eyes toward the deck. Maybe it was an act, but it made him want to put an arm around her. He found himself aware of the floral scent of her shampoo again, aware of her.

  He stepped back, letting Brax go. Brax was the last person he wanted to be holding right now.

  “A word, Makk.” Brax tilted his head toward the door.

  Makkon did not think leaving Pavlenko alone in here was a good idea, but he trusted this would only take a moment. He followed Brax into the corridor, the door sliding shut automatically.

  “What is it?”

  “I want to know what those soldiers are really guarding here, if it’s not the scientists. Or if it’s not just the scientists.” Brax flicked his fingers toward the door, toward Pavlenko.

  “You want me to question her?”

  “I want the information. I don’t care how you get it.”

  Makkon stared at him. Did Brax truly think he would interrogate her? Or do... whatever it was that he was suggesting? True, Brax did not know him that well, as they had never worked together before this, but he hoped he didn’t come across as someone who would force himself on a woman to get answers—or to get anything.

  “She’s tough,” Makkon said. “It would be easier to get the information from one of the civilians.”

  “Yeah, but she’s your special prisoner.” Brax’s eyes glinted and he turned to walk away. “I think you won’t mind questioning her overmuch.”

  Makkon glared after him, hating the man for his insinuations and also hating him because Brax was seeing far more clearly than Makkon would have liked. All his earlier thoughts of seduction leaped into his head again, and that hungry tightness returned to his groin.

  Chapter 7

  Tamryn rubbed the back of her neck. She was getting tired of those thugs using it as a handle to push her around and threaten her. She glanced toward the door, wondering how much time she had until they returned.

  For a second, she’d thought Brax was going to beat the stuffing out of her—or worse—for her quick amendment. Code words. Hardly that. But she had wanted whoever received those words to look up her family and realize she wasn’t just a random Pavlenko strolling around the system, but was one of the Pavlenkos. She had no idea what had been in that document of demands Brax had sent, and was disappointed she hadn’t been able to open the file, but whatever these people wanted, her grandfather would make sure highly skilled people were sent to recover her. As much as she’d sworn she would never use family connections, she was glad to have them now; if she could keep the remaining men alive until a rescue team got there, maybe they all had a chance to get out of this alive. She couldn’t presume too much though. Whatever Brax, Makkon, and the others were exactly, they weren’t going to be easy for a rescue team to defeat.

  When it looked like she might have a minute, Tamryn risked dipping into her pocket for her tablet. Sooner or later, someone would remember she had it and would take it from her. This might be the only unmonitored chance she got.

  She checked the earlier message, saw it was indeed from Captain Porter, and her heart lifted for the first time since this had all started. Maybe, just maybe, Porter could do something, if she could stay free. Tamryn glanced at the door again, then tried to raise the other officer.

  “Tamryn?” came the immediate response, a quick whisper.

  “Yes,” she murmured, keeping the connection to an audio feed. If the men stormed back in, she didn’t want them to see her with a holo display floating in front of her. “I’ve been captured, so don’t risk calling me again, but where are you? If I can escape, I’ll try to get to you.”

  “My lab. I hid when they came in, and they didn’t find me. I was trying to come up with a plan to blow up their ship, but Tam? It’s one of ours.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s a Fleet mining and expedition ship that crashed on Glaciem a year ago. It—”

  The door whis
pered open behind her, and Tamryn closed the tablet as quickly as she could without making a sound. She turned toward the door, using her body to hide her hand as she slipped the tablet into her pocket. Makkon walked in, his face difficult to read. She couldn’t tell whether he had seen the move or not.

  The door closed behind him. She let out a soft breath when it became apparent that Brax wouldn’t come in. She shouldn’t feel at ease with Makkon, not in the least, but he wasn’t as bad as his leader. He’d even stepped in this time when Brax had threatened her. She couldn’t depend on him as a protector, but at least he wasn’t as odious as some of the other pirates. Intruders. Invaders. Terrorists. She didn’t know what to call them. She desperately wished she could have had an in-depth conversation with Porter. She felt certain that the captain had the clues Tamryn was missing.

  Makkon stopped a couple of steps away and held out his hand. Right away, her stomach sank, because she knew what he wanted. He had seen her clumsy attempt to pocket the device.

  Though she doubted it would work, she laid her palm atop his. Perhaps a little misdirection... “Thank you for not letting him shoot Sergeant Gruzinsky.”

  He blinked, and for a moment, he appeared utterly surprised and almost flummoxed. That wasn’t what she had expected, but if it kept him from thinking about the tablet, then it was fine with her.

  His fingers curled around hers, capturing her hand, and a sense of unease crept into her. She hadn’t meant to imply any kind of invitation or advance toward him. It had been a thank you, nothing more, and she’d only given him that to divert his attention.

  She looked for a way to extricate her hand, knowing full well that she couldn’t force him to let go. His thumb stroked the back of her hand, and he gazed into her eyes, his own at half-mast. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, far too fast, given that she was standing still, not moving a muscle. His hand was callused and warm, his touch light, almost teasingly so. A tingle ran up her arm, and the sudden urge to step closer came to mind.

  More alarmed by her reaction than his touch, Tamryn tried to pull her hand away. He couldn’t possibly have seen her touch as an invitation for more, could he? He had killed her colleagues; she wanted nothing to do with him.

  To her relief, he let her extricate her hand. She turned away from him, resting her hands on the edge of the console. She ought to ask him to take her back to the lounge, to the safety of numbers that it represented. Yet she wanted to meet up with Porter, to help her with whatever she planned, to warn her that men were still hunting for her. She could have cursed herself for not mentioning that when they’d had that minute to talk.

  Makkon stepped closer, his chest brushing the back of her shoulders. Adrenaline surged through Tamryn’s veins, and fear rooted her in place. He touched her waist, and her mouth grew dry. What could she do if he tried to force her? Fight him? That hadn’t gone well before. But not fighting him was too intolerable to contemplate. These people had already violated her station and killed her men. She would be damned before making it easy for them to violate her.

  His hand shifted from her waist, brushing the outside of her butt, then drifting lower. A shiver went through her, and her body tightened in response, her nipples hardening. She scowled, offended at the betrayal. She was not safe, and it was not acceptable to feel any kind of arousal.

  Makkon’s hand slid down the outside of her thigh, pausing only when it reached the bump in her pocket. She snorted inwardly. All he was doing was searching her for the tablet. This wasn’t some prelude to... anything else. Although he was being awfully touchy if all he meant to do was search her. Earlier, back in the lounge with all of his men watching, his search had been professional. He hadn’t stroked her ass or—

  He stepped closer as he bent, slipping his hand into her pocket. Before, his chest had merely brushed her back, but now, she could feel the hard outline of the muscles through his vest and her shirt. She didn’t move as he pulled her tablet out. If she did nothing, responded in no way, maybe he would back off. She felt him tuck the tablet into his own pocket, but he didn’t back up. Instead, he eased even closer, his arm wrapping around her waist. She was trapped between him and the console, and she hadn’t even put up a fight. She should do that—fight. Do something so he knew that she didn’t want him touching her. Did he truly believe she didn’t hate him and think of him as an enemy? That thank-you had been a mistake. She ought to retract it.

  He bent his neck, so his head wasn’t much higher than hers, and rubbed his face in her hair, inhaling audibly. His arousal pressed into her lower back, leaving little doubt as to what he was thinking about.

  “You’re welcome,” he murmured, his warm breath stirring her hair, whispering across the side of her face.

  This time, the shiver that went through her shot all the way to her core, and an unexpected intensity stirred between her legs. She was all too aware of the bare, muscled arm clasped around her waist and across her abdomen, of the heat radiating from it, warming her through her shirt. She should push it away, but it was not... unpleasant. Nor was the way he was nuzzling her hair, the light sensations teasing her scalp. He kissed her neck, his lips warm and appealing as they brushed her sensitive skin. His lips found her earlobe, and she gasped when he sucked it gently.

  Right away, she clamped her mouth shut, as if she could draw that gasp back in, keep him from hearing it, from knowing that she wasn’t hating this as much as she should be. He was the enemy, damn it. She wasn’t going to moan and gasp for him.

  Even though she knew it was futile, she pushed back from the console and grabbed his arm, trying to twist out of his grip. She couldn’t match his strength, but maybe if she made her objection clear, he would feel like an ass and let her go. But his arm tightened, and he groaned. She realized she was only rubbing against him, exciting him. Tears of frustration pricked at her eyes. She didn’t want to cry or fall apart or do anything he would perceive as weak, but the realization that she wouldn’t be able to stop him made her feel weak.

  Makkon paused, his grip on her loosening slightly. Not enough that she could have pulled away, but she was tempted to try, anyway. He sighed and rested his face against the top of her head.

  “Brax wants me to question you,” he said. “To find out about the secret you alluded to that’s here in the station.”

  “What, by seducing me?”

  “No, that was my idea. Any chance it would work?”

  “Go to hell.”

  “That’s not my religion, but I suppose it could happen, anyway.” He sighed again, sounding sad, or maybe regretful.

  She thought he might let her go, but he didn’t. It dawned on her that if he didn’t question her through seduction, then the alternative would be less pleasant. Not that being pawed over by him would be pleasant, she told herself. She refused to acknowledge that what he had been doing so far had been appealing.

  “Would you tell me if I promised to let you go?” He didn’t sound that hopeful, but he lowered his face to the side of her head, his jaw brushing her skin as he kissed her temple. For the first time, one of his hands came up to cup her breast, fingers feather light as they stroked her through her shirt.

  She had to close her eyes and tell herself once again that she most assuredly was not enjoying his touch. The way her nipples hardened, prodding at the material, seemed to mock her thoughts. When his thumb brushed the tip, a jolt of desire arrowed through her, heat kindling anew in her core.

  She knew what he was doing, that he was trying to get the answers without forcing her or hurting her. She didn’t know why he cared one way or another, but all this did was remind her that he was an enemy. He wanted information she could not give without betraying her uniform, betraying her people. She had already screwed up and said more than she should.

  As his lips returned to her throat, leaving spirals of heat and desire everywhere they alighted, she had to fight to keep her thoughts clear and also not to arch toward his hand, the one stroking her breast with a touch s
o light it made her ache for more. She imagined him pulling her shirt off, cupping her with both hands and lowering his mouth to her nipple, taking her in and out, sweeping his tongue across her sensitive skin.

  One of his hands lowered to her belt, fingers leaving a trail of fire as they grazed her belly. At first, she thought he would do as she had imagined, untuck her shirt and bare her breasts so he had better access to them. But he unfastened her belt, and her trousers sagged from her hips. He was still kissing her, grazing her throat with his teeth, sending waves of pleasure through her, but she could feel the heaviness of his breathing, how excited he was, and she had no delusions as to where this would lead. The realization of where he meant to go next, of what he meant to do, slapped her fantasies away. He was going to use the excuse that she could stop him any time by telling him what he wanted to make this all right for him. The hell with that.

  She grabbed the back of his hand as it was slipping through her curls toward an area that was embarrassingly hot and damp. A ridiculous part of her wanted to push his hand further, to let him touch her, to lean into his touch and enjoy it, but she stopped him. He let her. Of course he did. He was waiting to see if she would give him the information he wanted.

  “I’m not a traitor,” she said and pushed his hand away. The cool air that whispered across her exposed flesh was disappointing after the warmth of his skin, but she took solace in her words, determined to make them true.

  “Your body may be,” he murmured. He’d let her push his lower hand away, but that muscular arm was still wrapped around her waist, and there was still no space between them, with his tall, powerful frame glued to her back, leaving little question as to what he wanted.