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DLSIJ Press
www.dlsijpress.com
Copyright ©2004 Michelle O'Leary
First Published by DLSIJ Press, March 2003
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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A Far Cry
With no small amount of irritation, Mea stared at the man who'd raised her. He might be like a father to her, and her boss, but right now he was in real danger of getting his ass kicked. “That makes no damned sense, Uncle Mike!"
"It makes perfect sense,” he rumbled, folding massive arms over his chest and eying her from under bushy brows. His dark glower had sent more than one hunter into a state of high anxiety, but she'd lived with that expression too long for it to affect her. He continued, “And it's the Hunting Corp's policy, so deal with it."
"You're the director, for God's sake. Make a new damned policy."
Mike Conley snorted, shaking his head at her as he said, “That's the most scatterbrained thing I've ever heard you say."
"You're a jackass, Conley,” Stone grumbled at her side, and she glanced over to see him returning Mike's glower full force, thick arms folded in a mirror image of the director.
Mike muttered something nasty under his breath as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his desk and looking from Mea to Stone in disgust. “Will you two stop acting like a pair of newlyweds for a friggin’ second and look at this logically? You've never been on an official hunt together before. What you went through with the slavers was extraordinary circumstances. If you signed this partner contract today, what happens if a month down the line you find out you're not compatible?"
"We know we're compatible, Uncle Mike! We wouldn't be asking to sign if we weren't,” Mea said through clenched teeth. The man was driving her insane.
"You know that, huh? Well, I don't know if you're a compatible hunting pair until you prove it. It's the Corp's policy to have potential partners try each other out for at least a couple months before letting ‘em sign a legal document that forces them to work together. End of discussion,” he added with emphasis when Mea opened her mouth. Like that would stop her.
"For newly met hunters, that's logical, but Bay and I—"
He slammed a hand down on the desk. “Hunter Brin, this is your director speaking. It's my official word that you and Hunter Baynard Stone are provisional partners for a period of no less than two standard months, during which you will make regular reports on your working status as you hunt. If after that time you still want to be partners, I'll draw up the goddamned contract myself. Now, shut the hell up and get out of my office!” he finished on a bellow.
Mea swallowed a sudden urge to laugh. Well, if she had to give in, there was at least the consolation that she'd cracked his control yet again. To turn the screw a bit tighter, she smiled sweetly and said, “Are you feeling okay? You look a little peaked."
His face took on a ruddy cast as he blustered, “If you weren't the best I had, I swear I'd—"
"Give it up, Conley,” Stone interrupted, rising to his feet. “You raised her—you want somebody to blame, look in the mirror.” His tone was flat, but Mea saw a hint of humor pulling at the corners of his mouth and glinting in his dark eyes.
"Couldn't have said it better myself,” Mea murmured with a smirk, rising to stand next to her lover. “We'll see you in two months, Uncle Mike,” she added, as they turned as one towards the door.
"Make it six so I can get some peace and quiet,” she heard Mike grumble, and she chuckled as they left the office.
Bella had a twinkle in her eye that said she'd heard her boss roaring at his favorite hunters again, but she said nothing, nodding with a smile as Mea passed her desk with a murmur of farewell.
"Well, that didn't go quite as planned,” she mused, as she and Stone left the reception area. “But it shouldn't be too—"
"Do you wanna sign?” Stone interrupted, catching her arm and pulling her to a stop. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were solemn with an emotion that looked like worry.
Turning to face him, she lifted an eyebrow with a quirk of her lips. “And here I thought you were in that office with me. Of course I want to sign. Why else did I fight with Uncle Mike?"
He scowled down at her. “Woman, you turn circles just to walk straight. Why the hell do you do anything?"
Suppressing a smile, she stepped closer, lifting a hand to soothe the crease in his forehead. “Was that an insult or a compliment?” she murmured, running her fingers down the hard planes of his face and the stubble-rough skin of his jaw to brush against his lips. “Bay, you are my partner, in everything I do. I want to make it official, but signing now or later isn't going to change the fact that you're mine and I'm yours."
His eyes filled with dark heat as he pulled her flush against him and nibbled on her fingertips.
She gave him a sultry smile, slipping her other hand around the back of his neck as she melted against him. “I don't play games with what we have. Unless you want to play, too ... how ‘bout cat and mouse? I'll run this time,” she whispered, rising on tiptoe to lick his bottom lip.
With a growl, he spun her and pressed her against the wall, his mouth coming down on hers with hot demand.
It took them a long while to get back to the ship.
* * * * *
"What the hell is wrong with you?” her mother's voice rang out, echoing around the training room like a warning of impending disaster.
Regan jumped guiltily, shoving the rifle into her father's hands and backing away from it and him. When Mom had that storm on her brow and green fire in her eyes, it was best to get out of the way as quick as possible. She felt a twinge of guilt for abandoning Dad, but it wasn't like he couldn't handle himself.
At the moment, it looked like he'd decided to play dumb. Slinging the rifle against his shoulder, he turned without haste to face Mea and asked, “What?” in a calm rumble.
Regan winced. Wrong ploy.
"Goddamn it, Bay, you know what!” Mea thundered, stalking towards them like a wave of dark fury. “She's a child! Guns and knives have no place in the hands of children. What the hell do I have to do to get that through your thick head?” She stopped in front of him and poked a stiff finger into his chest. “I have told you time and again that she is not allowed to handle weapons! If I find you training her one more time—"
"You smell good,” her father murmured, curling a finger around a strand of Mea's dark hair and bringing it to his nose. “New soap?"
Ah, distraction, Regan thought. A better ploy. “You look really pretty today, Mom,” she added in a casual tone.
All that seemed to do was divide Mea's anger between them both.
"Oh, stop it, you two!” she snarled, snatching the gun from Stone's hand, as she glared from one to the other. “You know I've forbidden this kind of thing! I swear, if you don't stop going behind my back, I'll lock this training room down. Do I make myself clear?"
Regan pressed her lips together and dropped her chin, torn between conflicting needs. She desperately wanted Mea's approval, love, and support. Her mother's anger bit at her like a lash, and though her mind knew it wouldn't last, it still made her heart and stomach clench with old fears of abandonment. But the intricate blue patterns on the backs of her hands gleamed in the light, refusing to let her give up.
Lifting her head, she caught her mother's eye and said, “Mom, I need to be a hunter."
"You don't need to be one right this second,” Mea admonished, her tone still firm, though not as loud. “And you might change your mind. There's plenty of time for you to decide that,” she added, as she strode away from them to the wall and re-hung the rifle.
Regan sent her father a grimace of frustration and got a commissary half smile and shrug in return. “Mom, some of those kids at the academy were barely older than me! I need to start learning—"
"But they were older than you,” Mea interrupted, walking back to Regan and cupping her chin, raising her face. “Why can't you just be a kid and have fun for now? Forget about all this hunter nonsense until you have to decide."
"It's not nonsense, and I've already decided,” Regan muttered in exasperation, staring up into her mother's warm green eyes with a mixture of love and annoyance. “'Sides, training with Dad is fun."
Mea snorted and turned an accusing glare on Stone.
He shrugged, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “It's a talent,” he murmured.
She made a rude noise and turned away from them both. “The answer's still no,” she said over her shoulder, as she headed for the exit. “Lunch is ready."
Regan folded her arms and stomped a foot in frustration as she watched her mother leave the room. “What are we gonna do, Dad?” she asked, wincing at the whiny tone in her voice.
He ruffled her short hair before settling a warm hand on the back of her neck. “Give it time, kid. She'll come around."
"Before or after I go nuts?” she mumbled.
He chuckled and guided her towards the door and lunch.
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"She's following us again,” Stone rumbled at her side, and Mea snarled a curse under her breath.
"That girl will be the death of me,” she muttered, as she glanced down the dim alley behind them. She didn't see anything, but a faint rustle was magnified against the close, dingy buildings.
Stone chuckled, shooting her an amused glance. “If you trained her, she wouldn't have to creep around behind your back."
"You're not helping,” she said through clenched teeth, glaring at him as she adjusted the grapple's strap over her shoulder.
He didn't seem at all repentant. “She's gettin’ better. Didn't catch on to her ‘til way past the port this time."
She growled at him, but all she got in return was a lazy grin. Curling her lip in a promise for later retribution, she stepped away and faced back into the alley. She didn't like giving away their position to possible listeners, but what choice did she have now? It was either that or break off the hunt. “Little girl, if you don't return to the ship this instant, I will hunt you down and tan your hide black and blue,” she said with clear, calm authority.
There was silence for a moment, before a faint rustle came to them and a small shadow disappeared around the distant corner of the building.
With a sigh, she turned back to Stone's amused expression.
"Think that'll stop her?” he murmured.
Pressing her lips together, Mea hefted the grapple and aimed it at the darkness overhead. “We'll just have to make our trail a little harder to follow."
The whump and whistle of the grapple leaving the barrel was followed by a faint thud as it landed on the building overhead. Tugging it to make sure it was secure, Mea attached the end to her belt.
Stone shifted close and slipped one arm around her and one through the support strap, bending to nuzzle her ear as he rumbled, “Any excuse to get your hands on me, huh?"
It was hard to hold onto her irritation when he touched her and his voice sent tingles up and down her spine. But she did the best she could. “Easy, tiger,” she said with a touch of irony, as she activated the grapple. “The hunt's not over yet."
As they rose in the air, he growled, “Which hunt?” against her skin. Then he sank his teeth with gentle possession into the flesh of her throat.
If he was trying to distract her from her disobedient daughter, he succeeded admirably. Purring with pleasure, she wrapped her limbs around him and turned her mouth to his, sinking into his heat in surrender.
It took them a while to notice that they'd reached the rooftop. Stone groaned in frustration when she pulled back from him with slow reluctance.
"Woman, you're killin’ me,” he growled, as they hauled themselves over the edge of the building.
"I didn't start it this time,” she retorted, holding back a sigh at the aching throb in her body.
"When we get back, I'll finish it,” he said with hot promise in his dark eyes. Securing the grapple in its barrel, he slung it over his shoulder and loped off across the roof.
Catching up and matching his stride, Mea grinned to herself. This was becoming a pattern she couldn't object to—the stimulation of the hunts aroused their primitive instincts, and their coming together afterwards was hot and savagely wild. If she could just discipline herself to wait until they got back to the ship...
The ship and Regan. Her grin slipped into a frown as she contemplated what her daughter was doing at this moment. Damn the girl, why couldn't she just be a normal child? This thought was accompanied by a spear of guilty pain, as she acknowledged that Regan's life up to this point had been anything but normal. Her sister's death and her lack of security as Mea and Stone struggled to come to terms with each other had been bad enough. But being captured and turned into a slave was a far cry from normal.
Thinking of the slave tattoos on the backs of her small hands, Mea grimaced. If she could erase what had been done to her daughter, she would. She'd tried to get Regan to have the marks removed, but the girl flatly refused. When she'd asked why not, Regan had replied, “They remind me that I'm free."
"Hell,” Mea swore under her breath, as they leapt from one roof to another, heading towards their target's hiding place. She'd held onto the hope that Regan's infatuation with being a hunter would eventually fall prey to the impatience of youth and she'd find something else that would occupy her, leading her to a safe life far from slavers and the dredge of the galaxy. But Regan's stubborn insistence was starting to wear that hope thin.
"Next roof over,” Stone rumbled at her side, and they turned as one, muscles bunching in a powerful leap as they crossed the space between buildings, falling towards the next roof. Mea allowed her momentum to carry her as she landed, tucking into a roll that ended in a crouch.
Stone was right beside her. This at least had gone more than right. She snorted as she thought of Mike and his compatible. They were the same breed of animal, she and her mate. On a hunt, they moved as one and thought as one. There was no doubt, no conflict—there was only the target and the chase.
At the moment, their target was holed up in the building adjacent to the one they were currently standing on. He was a slaver on the run, culled from the herd and targeted because he knew where his people were keeping the plans for the device that could detect the metal alloy bonded to a hunter's bones.
They'd scoped the place out the day before. The slaver had bought some security, muscled brutes to guard the entrances to the building and watch over his person.
But you get what you pay for, Mea thought with a feral grin.
The man should have hired more.
Slinking their way along the rooftop, Mea and Stone peered over the edge at their target's supposed security. The window showed a clear view of the interior of his hiding spot. Their target was slumped in a chair with his head lolling back and his mouth open, chest rising and falling in the rhythms of sleep. He was alone.
Exchanging a look of contempt with Stone, Mea moved aside as he swung the grapple into place. A moment later, the thing was whistling through the air, embedding its head into the wall just above their target's window. The sound must have carried to the interior—the slaver jerked and struggled to a sitting position, his head whipping around wildly. But he couldn't see past the darkness beyond his window.
As Stone secured the end of the grapple, Mea swung over the edge of the building and slipped a ho
ok onto the wire. When Stone murmured, “Go,” at her back, she shoved away from the roof, sliding down the wire like a dark comet towards her target. At the last moment, she let go of the hook and crashed through the window.
She heard the target cry out as she rolled to her feet, and she rounded on him with a predator's grin. She heard the door slide open as she leapt after the scrambling slaver, but she didn't turn to look—she knew it was already too late for the target's hired help. As she slammed the man into the wall with foot planted in the middle of his back, she felt the change in air pressure as her mate followed her through the window. Catching the slaver around the neck, she squeezed until he lost consciousness, watching Stone work over her shoulder.
There were three of them: large, vicious looking, and well armed. They didn't stand a chance. In less than a minute, he had them in a pile on the floor, rendering them harmless with a smooth efficiency that was both beautiful and savage.
With a sigh, Mea let the target slump to the floor. “Any casualties?"
He scowled as he crouched to confiscate their weapons. “Why do you keep askin’ me that?"
"Because we have that funny little hunter rule: kill only when necessary."
"Rub it in, why doncha?” he grumbled.
"After what you did to that sharpshooter on the last hunt, I thought you needed the reminder,” she said with a snort of dark humor, bending to frisk her target for anything that could be a weapon. “But why so cranky? You did get to pulverize those three."
"Yeah,” he rasped, flashing her a wicked grin, “and there's more of ‘em down below."
"That's my man,” she murmured dryly, as she hoisted the target across her shoulders and headed for the exit, “always looking on the bright side."
* * * * *
Mea found Regan in the cargo bay, staring at the slaver in his cryotube, with folded arms and a faint crease between her brows. “Sugar, are you okay?"
Regan turned her large, dark eyes up to Mea and gave her a smile that was too grim and mature for her age. “I'm fine, Mom. Just wondering why we aren't asking him any questions."
A Far Cry Page 1
