Escape Velocity (Off-World Series, Book 7): Sexy Science-Fiction Romance Novel

by Rebecca York

  But the swamp rats weren’t about to let the interesting subject go. “And the young guys were all virgins?” another diner asked.

  “Must have been.”

  “Unless they fekked their farm animals.”

  The crude talk made Amber look down at her plate and wish she wasn’t sitting with this group of men. Was this the way people on Danalon usually spoke to guests? Or were the swamp rats just earthier?

  “How’d you meet your gal?” a dark-haired man asked Max.

  “On the Freedom Station.”

  The man turned to her. “So, you’ve gabbed with all manner of folks from the seven planets?”

  She floundered for an answer, hating to lie. But she knew she had to come up with something and said, “My parents kept me very secluded.”

  “Then how did you and Max hook up?”

  He jumped in with an explanation. “I liked what I saw, and I didn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Your parents made the decision?”

  She squirmed in her seat. “I’d like to keep some things private.”

  That drew several annoyed looks, but the head man said, “Don’t mind our curiosity. So few strangers come here.”

  “I understand,” Max answered.

  She felt like everyone was watching her until Max said, “We’re also curious about you, since you keep to yourselves.”

  “By choice,” Gatroux answered.

  “In Port City you are called Swamp Rats. What do you call yourselves?”

  “The Lucky Ones.”

  That drew laughter from the group.

  “Do you have a more formal name?”

  “We are not tied to formality. But when we have negotiated with the authorities, we have styled ourselves the Tribe. But among our people, we call ourselves the Inheritors.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they are on the wrong road, and we are the ones who will inherit this planet.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “Because we understand this land. We take what we need from it, but we do not destroy precious resources. Those in the city have lost touch with nature. They only come in and lay waste. And if their machines failed, they would not know how to live.

  “I can see your point,” Max conceded before asking, “Do the Feds give you any trouble?”

  “They’ve learned not to test themselves against us,” one of the younger men answered, his tone brash.

  “Even the guy who’s got a big house not far from here?”

  The question drew mutters around the table. The security chief, Dubois, had said little. But he was the one who answered. “Mostly.”

  Max didn’t ask for any details.

  Amber focused on her food. Maybe the dinner was supposed to be a relaxing get-together, but it was a constant strain for her.

  One of the younger men from the greeting party cleared his throat and looked at Max. “Would your wife sing for us again?”

  Amber went very still.

  Max looked at her. “Would you mind?”

  She saw in his eyes that he thought it might be a good way to steer away from the tension that had suddenly spring up.

  “I’d love to,” she said, mouthing another lie. Standing, she walked a little way from the table and composed herself. In the flickering light from the torches, she began to sing that first song she had sung for Max when they’d gotten to the Golden Fleece.

  All eyes were on her, and she tried to stand straight and tall, losing herself in the emotions of the song. But she had never sung for so many people, and she couldn’t help being nervous about the reaction of the audience. They seemed to be paying close attention to her, and she thought that was a good sign. When she was finished, there was a moment of silence. Then the men began to clap their hands together, and the women at the far end of the gathering did the same. From the looks on their faces, she judged that the clapping was a sign of approval.

  “Your wife is very talented,” Gatroux said.

  Max’s voice was steady. “Tell her, not me.”

  The head man nodded and addressed her. “My apologies, Madam. Your customs are different from ours.” He turned to Amber. “That was lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  Before anyone could ask for another song, Max said, “I hate to break up the party, but it’s been a long day for my wife. We’d like to go to bed, if you don’t mind.”

  There it was again—wife. Every time Max said it, Amber felt a shiver go down her spine. It might mean nothing to him, but it was like a tantalizing dream that she wished were reality.

  “Of course,” Gatroux said. “A thousand pardons for prolonging the meal.”

  “No apologies necessary,” Max said.

  The head man looked toward the women’s area. “Camille will set you up for the night.” He snapped his fingers and the older woman came forward—acting like a slave when the head man summoned her. But Amber thought she was no slave. Not the way she carried herself with authority.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Max said. Everybody stood, and the older woman took a torch from one of the holders and gestured. “This way.”

  As they exited the eating area, she could hear some of the men talking in low voices. Their tone worried her, and she wanted to stop and hear what they were saying. Instead she kept walking.

  Night had fallen, and the sounds of the swamp were all around the camp now. She heard the low buzz of insects and the growls and calls of animals, some of which sounded quite large.

  Rafe had joined them, and their guide led them to a part of the camp where most of the raised houses were located. She gestured to two of the small ones that were set a bit apart from the main group of buildings. Camille gestured with her torch. “This one is for the married couple. And this one for the single man.” She turned to Amber. “And we put some clothing in the room that you might find more comfortable for wear around the camp.”

  “That was thoughtful. Thank you,” she answered.

  Camille nodded and addressed the three of them. “You should use the washroom before you go to bed, since you might have trouble finding your way around in full dark. She gestured toward two low buildings with walls made of sturdy sticks like the fence around the camp. But mud had been smeared between the posts, providing privacy. Torches marked the entrance to each.

  “This one is for women and this one for men,” Camille said.

  Rafe and Max went into the men’s building, and Amber went to the other. It had several stalls inside, with wooden toilets set over a pit dug in the ground. They weren’t much different from the facilities at the training camp where Amber had been held back on Naxion. She used one of the toilets, then went to a counter with large pitchers of water, bowls, and soap. At one of the stations, towels had been laid out, and she assumed they were for her and that other women would bring their own.

  She washed her hands and face, then took off her dress and quickly washed the rest of her body.

  When she came back outside, she saw Rafe and Max waiting for her—talking quietly.

  “I’m going to stretch my legs,” Rafe said.

  She caught her breath, hoping Max didn’t have the same idea, and she let out a small sigh when he walked toward the guest house with her.

  He was right behind her as she climbed the ladder, pulled aside a curtain, and stepped into a room lit by the warm glow of a small oil-filled lamp. She scanned the interior, which was furnished with a low bed, a chest, and a small table with two cushions set on either side. A flat woven rug covered the wood floor. A woven shade hung over the one window.

  She took in the chamber in one sweeping glance, then turned to Max and reached for him with a trembling sigh. Too much had happened today, and she was thankful to finally be alone with him.

  He pulled her into his arms, folding her close and swaying in the center of the room.

  She had been holding herself rigid for hours. Now she slumped against him, willing some of the tension out of her bo
dy.

  Max stroked his hands up and down her back, and she lowered her head to his shoulder. Since they’d arrived in this strange settlement, she’d been putting on a performance for the inhabitants, and at last she was free to be herself—whatever that was, because she wasn’t entirely sure anymore.

  “I felt like every question they asked me was a trap,” she whispered.

  “I know. That’s why I agreed to your singing—and why I said you were tired.”

  “Thank you for getting me away from the table. I hope I gave the right answers.”

  “Who the hell knows?”

  “Were they just curious, or were they trying to see if I was lying.”

  “Again, I wish I knew.”

  She raised her head and gave him a questioning look. “Why did you say I was your wife?”

  His explanation came quickly. “It seemed safer. If you are claimed, none of the men would go after you.”

  She would have liked a more romantic answer, but she understood the practical one. To defuse the tension when they’d arrived, she’d given the Inheritors a sexy performance—even if it was supposed to be for selling clothing. But Max had read the men’s response, and he’d know it was better if these people thought she was unavailable.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded and eased away. Sitting down on one of the cushions, he pulled off his boots. Without removing anything else, he turned the covers back on the bed and lay down.

  She looked toward the clothing hanging on pegs on the wall. It looked rough and practical, and she might change into trousers and a shirt in the morning, but not now.

  Crossing to the oil lamp, she turned the wick down so that it gave less light.

  “They have those on Naxion?” Max asked.

  “Similar.”

  She kicked off her sandals and eased down beside him, then eased over until her hip was against his. Rolling to her side, she slid her fingers inside the placket of his shirt.

  “We shouldn’t,” he said in response, his voice thick.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I need to pay attention to our surroundings.”

  “You think something’s going to happen?”

  “I’d like to know what those guys were talking about as we left. I didn’t like the vibes.”

  She had not heard that word before, but he had made the meaning clear, especially since her reaction was similar. She nodded against his shoulder. Although she understood his concerns, she ached to feel connected with him. There had been no firm plan in her mind when she’d determined to escape from Naxion. She knew now that she would surely have flown into the arms of disaster without Max Cassidy.

  Rising, she moved so that she was half on top of him and found his mouth with hers.

  At first, she knew he was fighting his instincts. Then he gave in and returned the kiss. It was a relief to feel him respond to her. Since they’d arrived at this place, she hadn’t known what to expect from him. Now he was kissing her with all the enthusiasm of a man who hadn’t had sex in months—when they’d both been satisfied the night before.

  She let him fill her senses, so thankful once again that he’d been the ship’s captain who had picked her up on Naxion. Deep down, was he glad that they’d been thrown together by Rafe, or did he wish he’d never gotten involved in his friend’s illegal trip to the forbidden planet?

  She couldn’t know his hidden feelings, but it seemed he might go back on his vow to keep watch. Using her powers of persuasion, she pushed him further toward the point where he would start to take off her clothing.

  He made a strangled sound as she pressed her breasts suggestively against his chest.

  “You devil,” he muttered.

  “But a good devil.”

  Things were going the way she wanted, but she never got a chance to find out how far he would go.

  Just as he was reaching for the buttons at the front of her dress, they both heard a noise on the ladder outside their hut.

  With a barely audible curse, Max sprang off the bed, crossed to his boots and pulled out a knife. Amber rolled off the bed and stood, just as a hand reached to pull aside the curtain hanging over the doorway.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Every nerve in Amber’s body vibrated as a figure stepped through the door.

  Then, in an instant of recognition, she saw it was Rafe.

  Max lowered the knife he had raised. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.

  He gave them a considering look. “Sorry to interrupt your playtime, but I heard a bunch of the men talking. Some of the younger guys. They don’t trust us.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t get that far.”

  “Crap,” Max exclaimed.

  He looked toward Amber. “You’d better change into something more suitable for a trek through the swamp.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Back to the shuttle, if we can make it.”

  She turned around, discarded her dress and pulled on a rough shirt, then a pair of pants.

  When she pivoted back, she saw Max and Rafe looking around the room and cursing.

  “What?”

  “I have this knife, but nothing bigger,” Max said.

  “Yeah, me too,” Rafe muttered.

  She joined the search and saw a pole leaning against the wall. “Can you make this and the knife into a spear?”

  “How?” Max demanded.

  She picked up the dress where she’d tossed it. “Give me the knife.” When Max handed it over, she ruthlessly began cutting long strips from the beautiful fabric of the skirt.

  Max used the thin lengths to bind the handle of the knife to the shaft, tying it off several times.

  “Okay, let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Wait.”

  Max’s head snapped toward her. “What?”

  “I was just thinking. I know where we can get more weapons.”

  “Where?”

  “The kitchen.”

  He looked torn between a quick escape and the possibility of securing better armaments. Finally, he nodded and turned to the doorway.

  Pulling the curtain aside, he looked out, scanning the compound. After a few moments, he said softly, “Let’s go.”

  He climbed down first. Amber was second, and Rafe brought up the rear.

  At the bottom of the ladder, she stood in the semidarkness, thankful that two moons had risen, sending tendrils of silver light between the leaves of the trees that sheltered the camp. The orbs gave enough illumination for them to see where they were going. But it would also expose them to anyone who was keeping an eye on the visitors. Now, however, she saw no one nearby. And when she strained her ears, she heard nothing but sounds from the swamp—insects buzzing, and the roar of a large animal. What was that? She didn’t want to meet it, but she knew they couldn’t stay here.

  “Which way?” Max whispered.

  She moved off to the right, with the men following, hoping she wasn’t going to get turned around in the dark.

  After they had slipped quietly past several huts, some with soft light glowing inside, she wondered if it really was this far to the outdoor kitchen. Then, to her relief, she spotted the open area where she’d helped the women prepare the evening meal.

  She’d worked here as part of the dinner prep crew, but the kitchen looked different in the darkness. Teeth clenched, she poked through boxes and open shelves, trying not to make any noises.

  A sound to her rear made her whirl. She went rigid when she saw two of the dogs who had rushed over when they first entered the compound.

  Max saw them too. “It’s okay,” he said, crossing to the animals and bending to pat their heads and scratch their ears. They seemed friendly, but she didn’t feel comfortable around the big animals. What would happen when the visitors left the camp?

  She looked at Max, then saw Rafe coming toward her, holding a knife. His voice was low as he said, “I found them. How many do you want?
”

  “What about the dogs?” she whispered.

  He held up his other hand. In it was a container of the stew they’d had at dinner. He put it on the ground, and the dogs rushed over

  While the animals were eating, he led the way to a storage cabinet with the cutlery. Amber took two. She cut a slit near the waist band of her trousers and put the smaller weapon through it. She kept the larger one in her hand.

  When they’d finished raiding the kitchen, Amber looked around, trying to orient herself. Although she’d led the men to the cooking area, she couldn’t be sure where to find the gate. Maybe Max wasn’t sure either because he hesitated before leading them quickly across a cleared area. Her heart gave a little leap when she saw the fence. They followed along the line of staves, walking on ground that was beaten down, making their passage easy. But she knew it wouldn’t be as level on the other side.

  Still it was a relief to find the gate and step through. As they headed for the darkness of the swamp, she kept looking back over her shoulder and saw several figures walking between the huts. But they seemed to be in no hurry. Maybe they were simply people on their way to the bathrooms.

  And the dogs were still in the kitchen.

  Max had seen the villagers too. Quickly he led her and Rafe to the darkness under the trees, where the trio faded into the shadows.

  “Do you know where to find the trail?” she asked when she was sure they were out of hearing distance.

  “I’m trying to remember how far they brought us along the fence after we came out of the swamp,” Max answered.

  As he spoke, he looked back at the line of the staves in the ground. “Too bad we didn’t have a chance to tie a marker to one of the posts.”

  “Well, we came from the right,” Rafe said.

  Reversing their direction, they moved slowly to the left, staying in the shadows, as they searched for the entrance to the trail. Amber wasn’t sure how much ground they had covered when a shout from inside the camp made them all go rigid. Then the dogs began to bark frantically.

  “They know we’re gone,” Max muttered as he grabbed Amber’s hand, and pulled her into the underbrush where she landed on something dank and squishy.

  Chapter Seventeen