by JC Cassels
“There is nothing more honest than this,” he said.
She jerked away from his touch.
Every rejection was like a fresh cut.
Clenching his hand into a fist, he slowly lowered it to his side.
He sighed. “You were the first woman who looked past the face, the name, the credits, the opportunity, and saw the man. Bo, you never wanted anything from me but me. That was the one thing – the hardest thing for me to give you.”
“I don’t want you.”
His mouth quirked. “Now who’s lying?”
Her gaze dropped to the deck plates. “You can go.”
“What?”
Bo lifted her head and met his gaze. “I said you’re free to go.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to know anything about this back door access you have to my ship. I just want you out of my life.”
He took a deep breath, once more in control of himself. He searched her face.
“I can’t.” He smiled sadly. “I still need that ride to Trisdos.”
She glared at him. “Find somebody else!”
“I don’t want anyone else.”
“I can’t afford you.”
“Love, I’m not asking for more than you’re willing to give me.”
“Yeah, you are.” She licked her dry lips. “You’re not an ex-husband. You’re a stalker. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell you it’s over between us, you refuse to accept it. Move on!”
Her words hit him like a chunk of fuseform.
Was he really deluding himself?
Is that what he’d sunk to?
Had he misread the Sentaro? Seen only what he wanted to see?
Tahar’s words flooded back to him.
Without you, she has no chance of meeting her destiny. Without her, you have no chance of meeting yours. Your lives are entwined.
He rubbed the pad of his thumb along the interwoven metal of his wedding ring.
Your future lies with her.
He studied her face for a long moment.
Either he had faith in the Maker’s plans for his life or he didn’t.
Swallowing his misgiving, he nodded.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go.”
Bo eyed him warily.
“But after.” He held up one finger. “After you meet with Gray. I’m going with you.”
Bo shook her head. “No…”
“Look, I’m not going to let you walk into a potentially dangerous situation alone. I’m going with you. I’ll keep my mouth shut. I’ll watch your back. Hell, I’ll even take orders. But I’m not leaving you alone until your business with Gray is settled.”
“And then you’ll go?”
He nodded. “After I see you safely back aboard your ship, yes. Then I will go.”
She searched his face, her eyes narrowed in mistrust. “It doesn’t look like I have much choice in the matter,” she said. She arched an eyebrow at him. “But you don’t touch me unless I say you can. You so much as reach for me, I swear I’ll shoot you again and I won’t aim for your leg.”
“Understood,” he said. “I’ll wait for you aboard the station.”
She nodded tersely and turned on her heel, leaving him staring after her.
Slowly, he exhaled, letting go of the tension building inside him.
With a hand that wasn’t completely steady, he reached into the hidden pocket of his jacket and pulled out the palm blaster. Glancing down at it, he weighed it in his hand.
It had been close. It was a miracle she hadn’t felt it.
Shaking his head, he opened a pocket low on his right side and slipped the weapon in.
He would have to be more careful.
With one last glance over his shoulder, he opened the hatch and stepped into the airlock.
Now to contact Adin and let his team know he was alive.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bo breathed deeply, savoring the mechanical tang in the processed air of Chiron Station. The cacophony of many different languages calling greetings, farewells, challenges, and admonitions washed over them like a physical wave. The sound echoed in the low-ceilinged corridor, amplified and distorted until it sounded like the birth-cry of an alien newborn.
Without a backward glance, she plunged into the crowd with Nix at her heels.
Her traitorous hands still trembled as the adrenaline surged through her system. She clenched them into fists at her sides. She didn’t have to look to know when Blade started following her. She could sense his attention on her. At least he kept a respectful distance.
Deeper into the station, the utilitarian grate gave way to smooth deck plates. The ceiling soared, and the corridor became a balcony.
Bo led the way to a series of lift platforms, selected one, and she and the boy headed down into Chiron’s heart.
Once the lift platform railing parted, she stepped off. The vast promenade stretched out in all directions as far as the eye could see. All species of beings spilled out of shops, restaurants, and arcades. A sparkling fountain with colored liquid burbled in the center of the promenade. Beside the fountain, a holographic map of Chiron Station oriented visitors and provided them with the location of their desired destinations.
Ignoring the map, Bo strode past. She was familiar enough with the station, she had no need of it and it was only inviting trouble to stop and consult it. Even here, there were parasites and scavengers aplenty, watching and waiting, hoping to roll unsuspecting travelers, relieving them of their valuables.
Maps were for rubes and tourists. Bo was neither.
Behind her, Blade’s steps slowed. Even amidst the echoing roar of activity ricocheting around the promenade, she knew exactly which click of bootsole against deck plating was his. Glancing at her wrist chrono, Bo stopped and turned. Even if she’d had time for his shenanigans, she didn’t have the patience for them.
His brows gathered as he studied the map. He stood still and quiet, like a hunter waiting for his prey. His eyes narrowed. Looking through the display, his steely gaze flicked over the promenade, cataloguing everything and discarding the benign.
The scathing comment poised on her lips withered away, unspoken. She knew him well enough to know how he operated. She’d seen that look often enough. This was not a game. Her every sense on alert, she scanned the crowd, looking for whatever had triggered his reaction. Blade Devon was one of the best. If he went on alert, something was coming. When shit started to fly, the safest place to be was at his side.
Surrendering her pride, she made her way to him.
“Blade?”
“Something’s not right,” he said in Gallic. “Keep your eyes open.”
Bo nodded. “For me, or you?”
“Does it matter? Crossfire can still kill you.”
“Are you carrying?” She looked at him.
His eyes flashed with some emotion she couldn’t name. As quickly as it had risen, it was gone, leaving her to wonder whether she’d imagined it in the first place.
“They frown on energy weapons in prison.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “And you wouldn’t let me have anything from your weapons locker. I believe your exact words were, ‘Hell if I’m going to turn an armed psychopath like you loose on Chiron Station.’”
“You’re still a psychopath, but at least you’re on my side,” she said. “I’d feel better if you were armed.”
Eyebrows raised, he turned his full attention on her. “Hand me your Capre.”
The sheer absurdity of his request broke the rising battle-ready tension between them. Momentarily forgetting her ire with him, she smiled. “Look who’s branching out into comedy.”
He shrugged. “I need to diversify. I’m getting too old to pull off the action hero thing.”
Bo arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re thirty-four.”
He huffed in mock indignation. “Thirty-three,” he said. “My birthday’s not for a couple of seasons.”
Bo didn’t bother to hide her amusement. “Exc
use me,” she said. “You’ve been telling me how much older than me and how mature you are, since the day we met.”
His smile softened. “I will never forget you standing there in front of that window,” he said, “with the light streaming through and making your dress transparent. You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, practically naked and yet every millimeter a lady.”
Her amusement faded. “Don’t…” She shook her head.
He nodded, his head bowed. After a long moment, he peered up at her and shoved his hands into his trousers pockets.
The gesture, so unguarded and so familiar, hit her like a solar flare. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her. Her chest ached.
Dev…
“Come on,” he said, softly. “Let’s get to your meet. I’ll be fine. If I need a weapon, I can get one…one way or another. It’s what we psychopaths do. We need to get you off this promenade.”
Damn.
He could, too. She’d seen him plow through a small army, using only what he could appropriate, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. He was the most dangerous son-of-a-kretch she’d ever known – and the most arrogant. He was deadlier with his bare hands than most mercs were with a complete arsenal. In a fight, he was ruthless and relentless and…
Maker help her. Psychopath or not, if anything happened to him because of her, she’d never forgive herself.
Before she could change her mind, Bo took hold of his jacket. He tensed, and pulled his hands from his pockets. She didn’t bother to explain herself. He’d get it soon enough. With only a glance over her shoulder, she backed toward a nearby bench, dragging him along with her.
The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. “What are you doing?”
When the back of her leg bumped against the seat, she stopped. Instead of sitting, she lifted her leg, bracing her booted foot on the seat, and pulled him close into the curve of her body until his hips pressed against her.
“Oh really…” Blade arched an eyebrow at her, once again playing the holofeature hero. “Do I have permission to touch you?”
“Shut up, you idiot,” she said, narrowing her gaze.
He rested his hands lightly on her hips, a rakish smile playing about his lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Her brow furrowed. “Are you sure something is brewing?”
A look of mild annoyance crossed his features, as though he were insulted by the question. As quickly as it appeared, it disappeared, replaced by speculation and a predatory smile. Without comment, he leaned down and brushed his lips against her ear. He breathed deeply, taking in her scent. The feel of his hot breath against her sensitive skin sent a quiver of anticipation through her.
Bo closed her eyes and arched closer to him.
“If there’s going to be trouble, I don’t want you unarmed.” Her voice sounded weak even to her ears.
“Does this mean you’re going to let me play with your Capre?” His fingers curled into her backside.
Taken unaware, she gasped at his touch, but she pressed closer to him. Her hold on his jacket loosened.
“It means I’m going to let you take the palm blaster from my boot, holster and all.” Her voice came out in a breathless whisper.
His throaty chuckle nearly buckled her knees.
“That’s a girl gun.”
His low, raspy tone wound through her. His soft whiskers tickled her cheek. It took all she could do not to melt against him.
Her throat suddenly dry, she had to swallow before she could speak. “Don’t be a picky psychopath. It’s more firepower than you’ve got right now.”
Aching need blossomed deep in her core and swelled upward through her, leaving her nerves electrified and ready for him. Her fingers uncurled and flattened against his chest. She fought to keep them from tracing the contours of his solid flesh.
“Shoot somebody with that and all it’s going to do is piss them off,” he murmured.
One hand slid ever so slowly to the small of her back and traced her spine. Stopping halfway up her back, he pulled her closer, pinning her arms between them. Ignoring her soft whimper of protest, he answered with a low, primal growl and brushed his lips against her jaw, nipping lightly.
“Come on, let me take the Capre. I promise I’ll be good.”
It wouldn’t take much. All she had to do was turn her head and his mouth would be on hers.
Nix cleared his throat.
The sound hit her like a bucket of cold water.
Holy Maker! What was she doing?
Bo flattened her hands against his chest and pushed against him, but his hold on her didn’t ease.
“Don’t do that,” she said. “Nix is staring.”
Blade chuckled. “Let him. He may learn something.”
“I mean it, Blade,” she said. “Stop.”
He lifted his head, but didn’t let her go. A lopsided grin split his face. “You started it.”
He was right. She had. But it was only supposed to be for show…a cover. She hadn’t intended it to go so far. Her brow furrowed.
“Just take the damn boot blaster so we can get this over with.”
He studied her, his eyes shuttered by half-closed lids, his expression indecipherable. Taking his time, his hand slid up her back to the nape of her neck and his fingers threaded through her hair. With a firm tug, he closed his fist in her hair and slowly forced her head back, tilting her face to his.
Recognizing his intent, a jolt of panic flared through her, followed closely by heart-pounding excitement. With her arms pinned between them, she was helpless to do anything more than submit.
She had never had any control over him, not from the moment she’d opened the door by taking hold of his jacket.
She tried not to give in to the inexorable pull of his hand on her hair. His hold was firm, but gentle. The only pain she felt was when she resisted.
He watched her patiently, waiting for her consent.
One word would end this. He’d never forced her. He never would.
With one last, small sigh, she surrendered.
Her lips parted and his mouth covered hers.
Maker, it had been too long.
The bristles of his beard tickled her skin and his mouth slanted across hers.
Somehow freed, Bo’s arms slipped around his neck, pulling him closer. His grip on her hair eased. His large hand cradled her head gently as he bent her backward over his arm, plundering her mouth with his.
She needed this. She needed him.
Dimly, Bo felt his other hand glide down her leg. Her body throbbed with need. She clung to him to keep from falling.
His long fingers kneaded her calf through the stiff leather of her boot, unclipping the holster.
His tongue traced her lower lip before sucking it into his mouth and doing it all over again.
Applying pressure, he forced the holster upward, palming the whole as it popped free. Hooking his hand beneath her knee, he pulled her leg tighter against him. His hand slipped along her thigh. His other hand slid down her back until they both met on her buttocks.
He transferred the weapon from one hand to another so deftly that Bo wasn’t even sure he had done it until he broke the kiss and stepped back, steadying her with an arm around her waist.
Drawing a deep breath, Bo stared at him.
Laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepened and his blue eyes gleamed.
He tucked his other hand into his jacket pocket.
“Thank you,” he said. An insufferable grin crossed his face.
Holy Maker!
He wasn’t thanking her for the kiss – he was thanking her for the blaster! He’d slipped it into his pocket while she’d been goggling over him like a lovesick fangirl.
Shame flooded her cheeks. She’d been so completely lost in the moment while he’d been calculatedly manipulating events to cover his actions.
How could she have forgotten?
Damn the man!
Her eyes burned
and she lashed out, striking him in the face with an open-handed punch. The force of impact snapped his head around and thundered through the heel of her hand.
He stumbled back a few steps, safely out of her reach.
He was cold and heartless. She’d never been more than an asset to him. It’s all she would ever be.
He chuckled and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth.
“You know, one of these days you need to learn to slap a man like a normal woman,” he said. “You keep throwing punches like that, you could hurt somebody.”
Still trembling with whatever her heightened emotions were, she glared at him. With a growl, she put some more distance between them.
“That kiss wasn’t necessary,” she snapped.
“No,” he grinned. “But it was fun.”
Bo gritted her teeth and tamped down her runaway emotions. She couldn’t afford to let him get under her skin.
Why did she even bother?
A glance at Nix’s knowing leer assured her he’d seen everything except Blade taking the blaster from her boot. While he hadn’t understood their conversation, he’d obviously interpreted things exactly the way Blade had intended.
The sooner she got rid of both of them, the better.
CHAPTER NINE
Bo stepped into Zim’s, the upscale restaurant where she’d agreed to make the exchange. She paused in the doorway a moment and scanned the sedate crowd of diners and drinkers, all doing business in a very civilized manner.
Gray and his entourage waited patiently in a distant corner.
With a glance over her shoulder to reassure herself that Blade was making good on his promise, she wove through the maze of tables toward them. Nix followed close behind. Blade took his time bringing up the rear. She could sense them as strongly as if they’d been attached to her back like a Kamet symbiont to a Pader Lung Howler.
Gray resembled nothing so much as a mythological garden imp. Only a year or so older than Bo, his curly shock of brown hair had already migrated from the top of his head to his prodigious chin, leaving only a few stragglers behind to mourn the exodus.
Two Q’mann warriors stood watch on either side of him like a bad cliché. The humanoids were easily as tall as Blade, but, compared to humans, their musculature was heavier and more pronounced. Bony protuberances protected vital organs as well as enlarging their skulls. Their body armor mimicked their anatomy. Prominently sharp teeth bared at her approach. The taller one bore a long, jagged scar on one cheek. He braced his hand on the table near Gray and bent low to announce her arrival. A red tattoo spiraled around his wrist and spread across the back of his hand.
