Taking Command

by KyAnn Waters

  She had her own government contact, Darcolm. She trusted him, and when she’d told him of her plan to do a little investigative reporting, he’d cautioned her against deviating from the agenda. When he couldn’t convince her to stay with the entourage, he’d told her not to trust anyone.

  Shon had been on her own long enough to know to take his advice. With her history, orphaned at twelve and unwilling to find herself destitute or, worse, a sex slave to some barbarian, she always listened to her gut. Something had seemed off, and even though Darcolm thought her imagination was getting the better of her, she’d decided to slip aboard BioOne for a better look. Curiosity made her a good journalist, but today, it had put her in a compromised position.

  She waved the gun. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I’m going to find out and you won’t get away with it.”

  “I hope you’re wrong. But in the meantime, you’re on my ship, and if you don’t lower the gun, I’ll have the ship disarm you.”

  “What?” She scoffed while readjusting the heavy gun. “It hasn’t escaped my notice that you and I are the only ones on this ship.” She glanced to the booty-bot hovering in the corner. “And that.”

  He glared at the bot. “She’s obviously malfunctioning.”

  Unwilling to lower the gun, Shon tried blowing stray hair from her eyes. “Why? Because she isn’t being a good droid and servicing her owner?”

  “She should’ve alerted me to your presence.”

  “Perhaps she would’ve been more forthcoming with information if you hadn’t instructed her to turn off her orator function.” Shon had listened to the exchange from her hiding place inside the captain’s suite.

  At least he hadn’t taken the bot up on her offerings. He was too attractive to need a synthetic sexual servant. Hair, black as deep space, tied back at the nape of his neck. A couple days growth of whiskers shadowed his cheeks, strong square jaw, and cleft chin. Intelligent, soul-piercing eyes stared at her with a mocking blue gleam. Maybe he wasn’t right in the head. Tall, muscular, intimidating…insane? Obviously he thought he’d be all alone on this flight.

  When she screwed up, she screwed up good. In hindsight, Darcolm had been right. She should have stayed with the government entourage. Of course, then she wouldn’t have known about the hostile hijacking of this ship. There was a story here, and damn it, she was going to tell it. “Stand up and put your hands on the top of your head.”

  The man smiled as he stood—without putting either hand on his head—and took a step toward her. “Do you want to search me?”

  Her sweaty palms gripped to the pulse gun harder, jerking the barrel threateningly as if she weren’t scared out of her mind to pull the trigger. “Are you mad, or do you have a death wish? I said, get your hands up.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you…and I’m not going to give you my gun.” He sidled around the captain’s chair. “But I think I would still like you to search me.” He licked his lower lip and let his gaze rake over her body.

  Shon warmed beneath the black body suit. She’d gone for stealth, and now her nipples clearly betrayed her, prodding against the body-hugging microfiber. “Tri’Neith sector control won’t let you get far,” she warned.

  Needing him disarmed and needing control of the ship, she hesitantly approached him. Not that she knew the slightest thing about navigating a starship through space. Perhaps the booty-bot could be used for something besides fellatio.

  “The ship and everything on board is mine.” He placed a hand on the control panel. “Including you.”

  Fearing she had no other choice against him, she aimed, swallowed the dry lump in her throat, braced for…something, and fired. Nothing happened. Her gaze dropped to the gun. The gun was dead in her hands. She squeezed the trigger again.

  The man lunged. Shon screamed. She’d have fled, but he was on her in an instant. Pain seared through her fingers as the gun ripped from her hand. In a flash, she was spun around and pressed against the wall of the ship. His hands were like steel manacles on her wrist, holding her immobile as much as his powerful body. The hard contours of his chest crushed her back.

  “Let me go.” She thrashed trying to break his hold. But he pressed closer, almost lifting her feet from the floor. Oh god, the hard ridge of his cock nestled into the crease of her ass, tempting her to back against it.

  Stupid girl. She didn’t want to become his willing victim. Perhaps the fem-bot’s pheromones were clouding her judgment. Fear should be clawing at the corners of her mind, not measuring the strength of this man and the hardness of his cock.

  Suddenly, she realized just how precarious her situation was. He was strong, had control of a government vessel, and now had control of her. She turned her head and managed a gasp of breath. He was as solid as the wall beneath her face…and as warm.

  “Scan her.” The masculine grate of his voice, so close to her ear, skittered over her flesh.

  She was about to give a scathing response when a subtle vibration quivered in her belly. The sensation radiated out from her chest. A slight ringing started in her ears, along with the rapid pounding of her heartbeat. Or was it his?

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Hold still. The ship is scanning you.” He held both of her wrists in one hand and with his other, skimmed his palm along her side, surfing over the grooves of her ribs, over the curve of her hip, and onto the flat plane of her belly. With arousing slowness, he ran his hands along her inner thigh, sending heat into her pussy and fear down her spine. “You may have eluded me during my search, but you won’t hide anything from BioOne.” He found and removed her last defense, a small blast gun hidden at her ankle.

  Shon shivered and sank her teeth into her bottom lip. How intoxicating was his touch? Or maybe it was the rush of pheromones causing her arousal.

  “Who are you?” he demanded. “And what are you doing on my ship?”

  “None of your business. And this isn’t your ship. It’s a Tri’Neith vessel.”

  His body held her immobile. “As much as I’m enjoying your struggle…”

  Enjoying? His hand roamed over her like a blind man, as if committing her body to memory. His erection nudged her lower back, and his breath was hot against her flesh. Primal, powerful, and dangerous. Damn him. That quiver in her belly was fear, not arousal. Fear because this man could take what he wanted and she was—unarmed—enough to let him. He had taken what he wanted—the ship. And now apparently her, too.

  Her struggling had little effect on his hold but clearly had an effect on his body. If sex appeal was her only weapon, she was totally screwed. And if she wasn’t smart, it would be in an erotic and satisfying way. She needed to get her thoughts together. She needed a new strategy. “We can compromise.”

  “I’ll release you if you’ll calm down.”

  “I’ll stop struggling once you release me.”

  “You’re the only one in a position of compromise. And your weapons won’t function. Decide quickly to cooperate with me because one way or another you will tell me why you’re aboard my ship.” He stepped back, putting space between them, and gestured for her to sit down.

  “No.” She jerked her arms out of his grasp and shoved him back. Scrambling away, she glanced left and right, looking for something she could use as a weapon since the damn gun malfunctioned.

  The man sighed. “Here is the situation as it pertains to you. You have two choices. Stay on the ship or get the fuck off.” He turned and glared at her. “It’s a hell of a float back to port. Hopefully, you have a good sense of direction.”

  “I don’t find this situation funny.” Although, she supposed it could be worse. He could have killed her.

  “Neither do I.” He plopped into the captain’s chair. “I expected to be alone on this ship for the next few weeks. Now I have a—”

  “A booty-bot and a hostage,” she spat.

  “In order for you to be a hostage, you’d have to hold some value to me,” he stated matter
-of-factly. “And you don’t.” He glanced to the bot. “And as for the booty-bot, her skills have yet to be determined.”

  “I’m sure she’ll take pleasure in servicing your needs.” She wouldn’t think, couldn’t even contemplate a pirate as anything except a criminal. No matter how good he looked, she’d shoot him—if the gun would fire—and get back to safety.

  Shon’s situation looked bleaker with each passing moment. If she didn’t have value to him, would her life mean as little as the men he’d killed stealing the ship? At this point that meant an abrupt exit for her.

  “I suppose I’ll stay on the ship, then.” She jammed her hands to her hips, not liking the alternative of being blown out an air lock into space.

  “Good choice.”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “You made your choice by working for the Tri’Neith and then by boarding my ship. Knowing Captain Javis, I’m sure you had an advantageous arrangement.” His gazed skimmed over her body, making her intimately aware of his interest. “If you’d like to be of service to the new captain, just let me know.”

  “I’m sure your booty-bot is sufficient in seeing to your needs.” And if she were lucky, the man would electrocute himself in the bots circuitry.

  “You’re right.” He pointed to the bot. “Turn your fucking orator function back on and watch my hostage.” He strode to the com panel. “Get in my way, and I’ll lock you in my quarters.”

  Okay, so he wasn’t going to hurt her or toss her into outer space. Shon wasn’t a fool. She knew she’d been invited on board by the government to spin their propaganda. The ship was created to improve the Tri’Neith economy, to seek out diplomatic ties to other worlds, and increase trade and make life better for all.

  She might still have the story she started with, but perhaps this man’s secrets were even more valuable.

  “My name is Shon,” she said. And after several moments of silence, she hesitantly took a step closer.

  The booty-bots hips swiveled as it positioned in front of her, ready to be of service. “Would you like a drink? I can get you something to eat.”

  “No, thank you.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. What she wanted was information. Making her way around the command center, she inched closer to the man. His long, capable fingers glided over the control panel. “What is your name?”

  He ignored her, intent on his work.

  “If I’m stuck on the ship, and you’re not letting me go, then you should have nothing to fear by letting me know what in the hell is going on.”

  “Tarik.”

  “Huh?”

  When he turned to her, she preferred the scowl he wore earlier than the devastating appeal of those lips smiling. “I’m called Tarik. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, Shon, but we both know you’d rather be anywhere but here.”

  “And you’d rather I be anywhere but here.”

  “I can’t disagree with you.”

  She cautiously approached and glanced over his shoulder at a control panel that made no sense to her. “So, what do you want with a diplomatic ship?” His silence made her continue. “I should think space pirates would want heavy armament? Weapons of war and mass destruction. Men like you are always looking for new ways to terrorize citizens.”

  Tarik returned his hardened gaze to hers. “You know many men like me?”

  Men like him? None. “Excuse me if I’ve insulted you. But people tend to assume men who steal government ships and keep hostages are also criminals that terrorize others.” Perhaps she shouldn’t antagonize him more. “Is there some other reason you do these things?”

  “Yes.”

  A single weighted word was spoken with conviction. Yes, he definitely had a story.

  Shon hadn’t realized how tall and…thick he was. Muscles carved his upper body. His broad chest tapered to a trim stomach and lean hips. Black military-issued cargo pants encased his long legs, and he wore black boots.

  “Are you military?”

  “Are you sure you want to ask all these questions?” he asked in return, stepping around the console for a better angle on a display.

  If she knew too much, maybe he’d never let her go, but a reporter’s instinct ignored those risks. “I’m your hos—guest for an indefinite amount of time. I think I have a right to know.”

  He turned to lean against the control panel. “I think you’re a smart woman. My guess is you know exactly what kind of ship you’re on. My only concern is what the Tri’Neith planned to do with her?”

  Maybe, with Tarik, she shouldn’t talk government. Changing the conversation, she said, “Why do men assign gender to their ships? A fem-bot. A female hos—guest. And a female ship. You took control of the vessel. Could it be that you don’t see females as a threat but only as property?”

  “Are you a threat?”

  “Is the ship?” If he wanted answers, he was going to have to give up some information, too.

  “What do you think?”

  His evasive barrage of counter questions frustrated her. “I think you’re nothing but a thief. Why steal a diplomatic vessel? It has no military value. Maybe you’ve taken the ship to sell to a collector on some remote planet.”

  He pushed away from the console. “She is more valuable than you could possibly understand.”

  Tarik didn’t sound like a common thief but rather, a driven man. She gripped his arm to stop him from leaving. “Make me understand.”

  “Right now, I’d like to make you do a lot of things. But getting you to understand my purpose is not on the top of the list.”

  She snapped her hand back.

  “I don’t have time to explain anything, and it really doesn’t matter.” His voice became hard edged, cutting into her with a grave awareness. “You’ll be with me long enough to learn for yourself what this diplomatic ship is capable of.”

  Shon realized men like Tarik didn’t deviate from their plan. Now she wouldn’t have to search for her story. She’d become part of it.

  Chapter Two

  How much time had passed? An hour? Two? She couldn’t be sure. Tarik had tuned her out, intent on his mission. Shon remained in the corner of the command center, watching him, trying to recount every move he made to memory. When opportunity presented itself she had to be ready.

  Charred and blood-drenched, the fabric of Tarik’s shirt clung to his skin.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  Tarik glanced to his arm. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

  She stepped closer. “It doesn’t look like just a flesh wound.” Now that she was close to him, the acrid smell of singed flesh and hair burned her nostrils. “This is serious.” How had she not noticed? Probably because he hadn’t favored his arm as he was pressing her against the ship. “It must hurt.”

  “I’ve had worse.”

  “I’m not a medic, but even I can see you need a doctor.”

  “And yet, we’re the only two on board.” He glanced to the corner. “And the booty-bot.”

  Shon’s pulse sped up, partly from fear but mostly out of concern. He needed more medical attention than she could give, but she was his only option. “I’m sure you’ll survive, but seeing as I’m dependent on you to get us to our next port, I’d prefer you not bleed out.”

  He chuckled.

  “You think it’s funny now. If the wound becomes infected, I promise I won’t be as generous with my offer.” Blood she could handle. Gangrenous infection was another matter altogether.

  “Good that I know your motivations are still self-serving.”

  “I can’t imagine you expected me to care.”

  “No, but I’m glad you don’t wish me dead…yet.” He twisted in the chair. “If you insist.”

  Shon crinkled her nose as she knelt on the floor next to him. Up close, the wound looked worse. “I’m going to need supplies.”

  “Tell the booty-bot.”

  She puffed a breath. “At least she’ll be good for something productive. Does she have a name?
”

  “I suspect she’ll answer to anything you want to call her.”

  “32D?”

  Tarik laughed, a robust sound that caused a tickle to flutter in her belly. Shon spoke to the bot. “Take me to the infirmary.” She stood.

  Tarik gripped her arm. “I don’t want you wandering about the ship.”

  “Too bad. You don’t trust me, and I don’t trust you. But as you said yourself, I’m your guest not a hostage. You need medical attention, and I don’t know what supplies you have on board. 32D, let’s go.”

  The booty-bot swiveled away from the corner. Shon cast a last glance at Tarik. “Don’t bleed out before I return.”

  Shon hadn’t had much time to explore the ship before Tarik boarded and she’d had to hide. She wasn’t sure this was the right time either. 32D served the captain. And right now, the captain needed medical care more than she needed to discover the secrets of BioOne.

  32D led her to the infirmary. Shon had been aboard many ships, but she’d never seen a triage area to rival the state of the art facility. “32D, I’ll need your help. I can clean a flesh wound and stitch him up.” But not if the flesh was beyond saving. “I need clean linen bandages, scissors, antibiotics, and a suture gun. I don’t know how bad the burns are.” She threw open drawers. “I need something to treat them. H2O regeneration gel can repair burned flesh.”

  Shon’s fingers brushed a small metallic packet. She glanced over her shoulder at the fem-bot. “See if there are any neuron blockers for pain in those cabinets?” Because she had a different purpose for these little packets. She clutched two in her fist.

  With the supplies, she hoped she could patch Tarik together enough until he could get real medical attention. That is if she could get him to see reason and take them to the nearest spaceport. If he couldn’t be reasoned with—she glanced to the packets—she’d found a way to take matters into her own hands. She could somehow get word to the authorities. What would she tell them? She could contact Darcolm. He’d know what to do. If she played along with Tarik, to get the story, at least Darcolm would know where she was.