by T C Archer
Fury swept through Fontana, yet fresh tears flashed under her eyelids. Jenny had been too young to die. She shouldn’t have been placed so deep undercover. Fontana would never get over her death. Just like she’d never get over blaming Stephaney for assigning Jenny to a mission she hadn’t been ready for.
Fontana forced her body to relax.
He gave a soft snort. “When their cadre’s house of cards falls, they’ll take half the galaxy with them.”
“You going to solve galactic politics?” He was right, but Fontana didn’t try to hide the menace in her softly spoken words.
If not for exclusive trade agreements, progressive tax zones, and patent protection, the Coalition would crumble—which was why she and Jenny had been assigned as undercover agents on the newly colonized Rigil IV.
The Coalition should have known better than to leave Rigil IV unguarded, but the logic had been that the lack of military force would show the planet had nothing of value. They’d been wrong.
* * * *
Night had passed into late morning, and nothing appeared on the news feeds about the naked man. Blowing the back door of Spacer Jack’s should have lit up news outlets all over the resort. Was she wrong? Did the lack of news mean the incident really was part of an adventure package?
Fontana skirted the nine meters tall eggplant that stood like a purple wart in the middle of the lobby of the Hotel Baba Ghanoush.
A harpist played soothing tunes beside a burbling fountain. She continued past the concierge’s podium toward the hallway.
“Miss Fontana,” the concierge called out in his singsong accent that sounded more Indian than Middle Eastern.
He hurried around the desk. She stopped as he approached.
“Miss Fontana, pardon me, please. Pardon me.”
“Cut the phony accent, Ahmed. No one is around.”
He stopped and straightened. “A man was here to see you.” His Middle Eastern accent had been replaced with a hint of Old Earth Boston.
“Was he naked?” she asked.
Ahmed’s eyes widened. “No, ma’am. Not at the Hotel Baba Ghanoush. We’re a family resort.” He reached inside his billowing sleeve and produced a slip of paper. “The man left this.”
Handwritten on the note was: You took my raincoat at Spacer Jack’s yesterday. Kindly return it, and I won’t press charges.
She folded the note. “Thanks.”
“Yes, my lady.” He held out a hand. “I didn’t tell a soul.” He made an exaggerated motion of locking his lips and throwing away the key.
Ahmed couldn’t know the Coalition Corps had paid the small fortune the ground-floor room with terrace had cost and wasn’t shy about asking for money. She couldn’t blame him. Working at a resort hotel was little better than indentured servitude. Club Sagitariun was filled with people who had come here to work, then couldn’t save enough to leave. She reached behind his ear and produced two tokens by sleight of hand, making him flinch. Fontana held the tokens just out of his reach.
“If the man comes back, don’t tell him I was here. Right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She dropped the tokens into his palm. Two minutes later, she was at her room. She thumbed the lock. The door dematerialized, then rematerialized behind her after she’d entered. She caught sight of the flashing green dot in the upper corner of the mirror, indicating a message was waiting. It was too much to hope the message was from her brother Mason back home on Earth.
Fifteen years ago, Fontana left Colorado and her brother for Lower Florida, where Corps headquarters was located. Mason’s small, industrial-design business did well for him and his wife Susan and would provide for the baby that was overdue. Hard to believe her baby brother was expecting his first child. She’d left Colorado fifteen years ago. Fontana sighed. She hated the fact Mason still took time to worry about her.
Fontana crossed to the bed, a round monstrosity big enough for a foursome that dominated the center of the room, and tossed the note onto the mattress. A couple dressers, some appliances, entertainment equipment, and clothing and food synthesizers left no wall exposed except for two old-fashioned French doors that opened onto the terrace. A stand supporting a one hundred and twenty-two centimeter tall vase stood between the two doors. She continued to the French doors and opened them. A dozen couples lounged around the pool and frolicked in the water. Perfect. She could use a swim—as soon as she got rid of the fucking green eye staring at her back.
Fontana turned. She wanted to ignore Stephaney, but the Corps was drilled too deep inside her. That was their job, to burrow so deep inside that nothing short of death could extricate them. They’d had fifteen years to own her. The transaction was complete.
There was a chance the message was from Mason with the announcement she was an aunt. Warmth rippled through her at the thought of Mason’s son calling her Aunt Fontana. She had no idea what kind of aunt she’d be, but she wanted to be a part of her brother’s life. She released a breath, strode to the dressing table, and sat on the stool.
“Play message.”
The decryption algorithm chortled, then: “Hi, Major.” Stephaney’s clipped voice filled the air. “Give me a call. I have an update on Jenny.”
Fontana’s heart constricted. Stephaney knew how to twist the knife. Fontana opened a connection to Corps HQ, 334-YT on Travit VII. The mirror clouded up, and the blue GT&T, Galactic Telephone and Teleportation Corporation, a spiral–arm galaxy emblem spun as a subspace link burned through the ether. The progress bar rolled to completion, and Stephaney’s face replaced the corporate emblem. She sat behind her desk and, as usual, not a strand of auburn hair was out of place.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m fine.” What did Stephaney expect her to say? I’m having the time of my life and haven’t given a thought to the fact a new recruit was murdered on her first assignment?
The yearlong assignment had required total isolation on Rigil IV, an agrarian colony. Jenny had been part of the Geology and Soil Management Department, while Fontana had been in security—her stomach twisted. She had run security and let Gaelen Castor murder Jenny.
“You said you had news about Jenny,” Fontana prodded, shutting off the memories.
The colonel nodded. “Her remains are in an S-warp drone on the way to her family.”
A super-warp unmanned drone was the latest technology. With warp fields so powerful and acceleration so high, no living human could survive a ride in one. Very safe and very expensive.
“She arrives on Earth in ten days, and the wake is two days later,” Stephaney continued.
Fontana suppressed the tears that welled up. “How’s the case going?”
“The evidence, along with your testimony, will convict the seventeen members of the Track Cartel who were on Rigil IV. Good work.”
“One Coalition agent for seventeen criminals.” Fontana nodded. “Sounds like we came out ahead.”
“You can stop blaming yourself.”
Fontana kept her eyes locked with the colonel’s. “I’m not the one who sent her there, ma’am.”
“You blame the Corps for sending her in.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But you blame yourself for not protecting her.”
Fontana stared. “Will there be anything else, Colonel?”
Stephaney released a tired sigh. “Get some rest. Remember, you’re supposed to be on vacation. Lose yourself for a while, Major. There’ll be plenty of work when you get back.”
Fontana nodded. “End transmission.”
The telecommunications link faded back to a mirror. She leaned against the metal back of the chair and stared at her reflection. This vacation needed to get a whole lot better in order to get her back into shape to return to the field.
The door chimed. Fontana spoke a command to fade the door to one-way visibility. She straightened. The naked man stood outside her door now dressed in khakis and a safari shirt.
“Find a man,” Stephaney
had said. “Reaffirm life. Let him fuck your brains out.”
Why not?
Chapter Three
The man shifted, and the loose-fitting white shirt went taut across his broad shoulders. Memory of his tanned skin and steel muscle hit like a thunderbolt, and Fontana’s stomach did a flip.
He grinned, a sure sign he knew he was being viewed through a one-way door. Desire rippled through her on a slow, sure wave that promised heart-stopping pleasure. She’d known good-looking men. Ray, her last serious relationship five years ago, had been gorgeous. She’d been mad for him, but the man standing outside her door had a quality about him that made her want to snuggle up against him and fall asleep.
Fontana snorted. Her body would disagree. Right now the part between her legs throbbed with an insistent desire to fuck him—hard. Maybe then the flutter in her heart would have a say, and she’d fall asleep wrapped in his arms. That would be a welcome change to the sleepless nights she’d spent since Jenny’s death. It would be a temporary fix, but she could use at least one good night’s rest.
She sighed. First she’d better deal with the damned raincoat and find out how the naked man had escaped the shock troopers. Then there was the little matter of how he’d found out where she was staying.
Fontana rose and smoothed the form-fitting blouse and poly-cotton slacks she wore. “Open door,” she said, and the door dematerialized.
His stare slid down her body, and her nipples tightened to a delicious discomfort—and one he couldn’t miss under the millipore fabric of her top.
“Well, Mr. Long John.”
His blue eyes returned to her face. “Long John?”
She stepped aside and motioned him in. “Last time I saw you, your long johnson was standing at attention.”
He entered, and the door rematerialized behind him. “Give him a minute, and he’ll be at your command again.”
“What are you doing here?”
He wrapped an arm around her waist. “You said to look you up.”
She spun out of his grasp and backed up. “How did you find me?”
“Spacer Jack’s is brimming with information.”
He was right. She’d figured that out the first time she’d walked in. Even a benign resort like Club Sagitariun had a dark side. Proof stood right in front of her in all its masculine glory. No. All his masculine glory had been long, hard, and ready to go in the alley. Damn shock troopers. Ten more minutes and she would have had a quick hard ride on his steel rod.
He continued to advance.
She retreated. “Where’s my raincoat?”
He grasped her hand. “What do you need with a man’s raincoat?”
“The owner is looking for it.”
“Forget about him.” He stepped closer.
“Can’t.”
“I came to thank you for the coat. Let me buy you breakfast.”
Some offer—and not what she had in mind for jump-starting a morning that had begun four hours ago for her.
“It’s not my coat,” she said.
“We’ll find the owner and thank him—later. We have some unfinished business.”
Heat radiated from his body. Her pulse sped up. The smile at the corners of his mouth deepened. Her calves made contact with the bed. He stepped closer, grasped her hand, and pressed her palm over his heart.
Fontana ignored the warmth spreading through her and locked gazes with him. “What did those shock troopers want?”
He shrugged. “Never found out.”
“They never caught you.”
“I had to elude them so I could be here.”
That had a certain logic she liked.
His fingers gently tightened over the hand still pressed against his heart. “You’ve got my heart beating like crazy.”
She noted the hard muscle of his chest, under which only a regular heartbeat thumped, and pulled her hand away. “It’s not nice to lie.”
“I’m hurt.”
She wanted to laugh. He actually did look hurt.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all that we’ve shared,” he said.
Now she did laugh. Fontana was startled at the unexpected relief she felt. She hadn’t laughed since setting foot on Rigil IV. He cut off her thoughts by pulling her against him. His mouth crashed down onto hers. The hard ridge of his arousal dug into her stomach. She could almost believe she had a special effect on him. Almost. But that erection was just a little too ready—a little too eager—to belong to anyone but a working man.
So what was he doing here when he could be making a fortune with some bored rich wife who’d been ignored too long by her husband? His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, and she decided she didn’t care. Hard-cock-will-service was exactly what she needed. Fontana parted her lips, and he thrust inside, hot, moist, and tasting of a sultry maleness she had gone without far too long.
He broke the kiss, flashed a wicked grin, and shoved her onto the bed. She didn’t roll away but let him land on top of her, his weight pressing her into the memory foam mattress. As promised, his cock was ready for her command. And damn if her pussy wasn’t ready to give orders. Fontana grasped his shoulders, heaved, and rolled on top of him. He stared up at her, brows raised.
“What if I hurt you?” she asked.
His eyes widened in mock alarm. “That’s a deal breaker.”
He slid a hand into the hair at her nape and pulled her mouth to his. His soft, warm lips brushed hers. Fontana relaxed as he wrapped her close. The scent of him, like polished steel, made her clit tighten.
She slid a kiss along his jaw to his neck and nibbled the warm flesh. Fontana froze, remembering the one question she should have asked. “Why were you running naked through Spacer Jack’s?” she said against his neck.
He laughed, the sound like rolling thunder deep inside his chest. “What would you say if I said it was because I wanted your attention?”
She lifted her head and met his gaze. “I’d say you’re a liar.”
“What would you know about liars?”
“It’s my job to know,” she said.
“Your job?” he asked. “Are you working now?”
“I’m on vacation. What about you?”
“I can work on you.”
She just bet he could. An unexpected prick to her heart startled her. Dammit, the last month had been an emotional seesaw. She had to quit thinking and act.
He cupped her ass and lifted his hips, sliding his cock along her belly. Fontana closed her eyes, concentrated on the thickening erection. She wanted him. Now. Fontana pushed upright, straddled his hips, and began unbuttoning his shirt. After four buttons, the shirt opened enough to expose tanned flesh muscled beyond perfection. Just like she’d remembered. Working the remaining buttons free, she drank in the sight of his broad chest as she shoved the shirt back.
He rolled each shoulder forward, allowing her to pull the sleeves free from his arms. In a feather-light touch, she trailed her fingertips down his arms and over the rippling expanse of muscle. What would those arms feel like locked around her as he pounded into her? Would they tighten when he climaxed? Would they tighten when she climaxed?
She paused and shifted her gaze to his face. “What’s your name, by the way?”
Amusement showed in his eyes, and her heart rate sped up. Here she was thinking again. She should have forgone the introduction and just let him fuck her silly.
“Yari,” he said. “Brent Yari. And you’re Fontana.”
How had he known—“Ahmed,” she murmured.
“Don’t blame Ahmed.” Brent’s grin was infectious, and she smiled back. “I was very persuasive,” he said.
She lifted a brow. “How persuasive?”
His gaze locked with hers, he reached for her waistband. When he fumbled with the old-fashioned buttons, he dropped his gaze to her slacks. He flicked her a questioning look, and she shrugged. She’d opted for the buttons instead of the more common self-sealing fabric. He finally managed the buttons,
then sat up and eased her onto her back between his legs. He planted kisses on her belly while tugging the fabric down over her hips. Warm breath washed over her curls, and Fontana thought she would explode when he placed an all—too-chaste kiss on her mound before pulling her slacks free from her legs.
She made quick work of her form-fitting shirt, and his warm hands slid up her torso and cupped her breasts. His “um” expressed satisfaction before he ran his hands down her sides, sending tingles rippling around her rib cage. Fontana sat up and straddled his hips, forcing him back onto the bed. She flattened her hands on his shoulders and pinned him to the mattress. Everything about him radiated sex—especially the way his gaze followed the upward slide of her moist pussy along the rippled planes of his chest.
The soft curls covering his chest were like tiny strands of silk, tickling the swollen edges of her folds and sending gooseflesh racing across her arms. She rubbed her moist folds around his right nipple. His shoulder muscles tensed beneath her fingers, but she held him firm and shifted to the left nipple. He groaned and grasped her ass, massaging her clit against the marbled peak of his nipple.
Her stomach tightened. Still holding him against the bed, she lifted one knee over his shoulder and braced on the mattress beside his head. His pupils dilated, and satisfaction rippled through her with the realization that he hadn’t understood her intent until that moment. She lifted the other knee over his head and positioned her pussy centimeters above his face.
Her heart caught in her throat when he took a deep breath and inhaled her scent. Desire streaked through her at the totally male…totally primitive action. She held her breath as he cupped her ass, then coaxed her fleshy mound down onto his waiting mouth.
Chapter Four
Warm lips closed around her pussy. Fontana was on fire. She gasped. More. She needed more. Her clit tightened with the need to be touched. It had been too long—and wouldn’t take much to bring her to climax. That was fine with her. The way his fingers felt digging into the soft flesh of her ass while his tongue thrust between her folds had her already anticipating a second orgasm with those long digits inside her. His cock filling her would be the grand finale.
