Creed looked down, his chest moving harshly with his breath. Then he stepped over the body and looked at her, his eyes still blazing. “You’ve been busy.”
“Y-you know some Serpentian fighting moves yourself. Although I’ve never s-seen them done qu-quite like that.” She closed her mouth, as her chattering teeth tangled her speech. “Zh-Zhen training, huh?”
His gaze swept down her body and his brows shot together in a scowl. “You’re bleeding.” He strode around the island toward her.
He pulled her hand away from the cut on her leg, bit out a curse at the blood still pulsing from it, and yanked open a drawer to pull out clean towels. He wadded one against the cut and put her hand back in place. “Hold that.”
He spoke over his shoulder. “I need a medtech, now. Got a wounded woman here.”
Taara looked up at him, drinking in his face. He was dirty and had dried blood in his hair and caked on his ear, and he was holding his head in a way that told her he was in pain, but he was alive.
“You’re safe,” she whispered.
He nodded. “So are you. Although I heard Nikk tell you to stay in the office. Why the quark didn’t you mind him?”
Her eyes filled with tears again. “Don’t y-yell at me.”
“Don’t yell at you? You took out two pirates, and now you’re going soft? You scared the living hells out of me, woman.” But he pulled her close, supporting her against his broad chest. It felt like the safest place in the galaxy. She lay against him, clutching his shirt with one fist. His hear beat under her ear and his warmth and strength surrounded her.
Two officers appeared in the door behind Creed, in familiar armored uniforms. The IGSF had arrived. They had lasers out, helmet visors covering their faces. Three more dashed past the doorway, headed along the passageway.
Both the IGSF officers, tough looking soldiers with keen eyes, shoved up their visors and stared at the downed pirates.
“See you shot this one,” one of them said to Taara. “Mind telling us how you did for the small one? Not a mark on him, but looks like his neck is broken.”
She sniffled into Creed’s neck. “Don’t underestimate ... the p-power of a Serp girl’s thighs. Good for more than sex.” Dizzy, she closed her eyes.
“Quark,” the younger officer said. “I’ve heard about that move. Wish I’d seen it.”
Creed moved. “You mind taking care of the bodies? I need to see to her.”
“Right.”
“Taara?” Creed said, swinging her up into his arms. “Taara. Stay with me, caramel girl.”
“Get her head down, her feet up,” said a woman’s voice with crisp authority. “She’s shocky.”
“I’ll put her on the sofa,” Creed said.
He lifted her and carried her into the sitting room, laying her down carefully. Then he held her hand while the medic did various unpleasant things to her leg, including a sharp full of various meds, because as she noted, “The lost Phoenix only knows where that knife had been.” The shot mercifully included a gesic for the pain.
At this point Creed disappeared. When Taara asked about him, the med tech looked over her shoulder. “Supervising cleanup,” was the reply she came back with.
Taara huddled under the warm wrap the medic tucked around her, and relaxed into the gesics, the pain in her thigh only a faint throb.
“I’ll be back to check on you in a bit,” the woman said. “Gonna go check on your boss.”
Taara didn’t bother to correct her. She lay on the sofa, body floating, mind raw and hurting. She wanted Creed back. If she could just talk to him ... they hadn’t finished their talk. After the violence of the last hour, his anger seemed like a faded echo, a nightmare from which she might wake.
She closed her eyes, too weary to weep. As the sofa jostled, she opened them again to find another nightmare. This one was real.
Noni stood over her. Dirty, streaked with blood, her dark eyes full of animal pain.
“They killed him,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Shot my man, and he had to go and leave me here.”
Taara struggled to think through the buzz of gesics. She had to let someone know that Noni was still here, loose in the compound.
“Um, that’s terrible,” she said. “Sit down, and tell me about him.” There were IGSF officers everywhere—why hadn’t anyone caught the girl? And where was Creed?
Noni was not placated, and her next words sent a chill of fear slashing through the gesics.
“He left me here—with you,” she went on in that same flat voice. “You’re the one Creed wants. He killed my man. So now I’m going to kill you.”
Taara shook her head, moving under the blanket, gathering herself to spring away.
“Noni, there are IGSF officers all over this place, and—and your aunt and uncle. You can’t kill me. You’ll never get away.” The idea was ridiculous ... except for the look in the girl’s eyes.
Noni laughed, a wild, hopeless sound. “Get away? Why would I care about that? There’s nowhere to go in this quark-hole anyway.”
“You don’t want to hurt me,” Taara cried, this time as loudly as she could. Why didn’t someone come?
“This says different, whore.”
The large kitchen cutter in Noni’s hand flashed in the light, as it swept up and then came down.
Chapter Sixteen
Feeling as if she was mired in gel, Taara screamed and levered herself up and off the sofa, only to be caught in the blankets. She fell awkwardly, half on the sofa, half on the carpet.
The knife arced down toward her.
In mid arc, Noni jerked oddly. Her mouth open, eyes wide with astonishment, she gave a choked cry and slumped forward, the cutter limp in her hand. She did not stop falling until she lay limp and heavy over Taara’s blanketed legs. Her long black hair spilled over the blanket like an exotic shawl.
Taara slid the rest of the way to the floor, landing with a thump that sent pain rocketing through her injured leg. She cried out.
Then she lost her breath as she saw the blade sticking out of Noni’s back.
Creed appeared over her, his face fierce and pale. He grabbed Noni by her arm and yanked her away from Taara, letting her body fall to the side without another look.
“You all right?” He lifted Taara back onto the sofa, jerked the blanket away and scanned her legs swiftly with his hands and gaze.
“Creed.” Shaking so hard she could scarcely speak, Taara reached for him. He dropped to his knees beside her and then slowly bent forward, his head on her midriff.
Taara wrapped her arm around his neck, and stroked his head with her free hand. He was hot, his hair damp with sweat, but the hard shape of his skull was reassuringly intact, his pulse beating at his temple.
“Oh, goddess. Oh, Creed. You saved my life. She—she was going to kill me.”
He said nothing, burrowing his face into her. She bent her head to kiss the top of his head. Dirty, stinking of blood and sweat, none of it mattered. “I’m sorry you had to kill her. I’m so sorry.”
“So am I, but it wasn’t your fault,” he said. “Anyway, not the first time I’ve killed. I’ve plenty of blood on my hands.”
“Well, of course you do,” she said. “You’re a warrior.”
He gave a huff of laughter, and lifted his head. “Keep forgetting you’re Serpentian,” he muttered. “Pragmatic as all hells.”
She moved her hand to cup the side of his face, rubbing at a bit of dried blood on his soft lips. He needed a bath and some gesics himself.
“You killed two men yourself,” he said, his gaze bleak. “Hasn’t hit you yet, but it will. When it does, talk to someone. Get it out.”
Her heart contracted. “I’ll talk to you,” she whispered. Her voice curled up at the end, on a query. She would have him to talk to, wouldn’t she?
His gaze dropped away. He pulled her hand from his face and carefully laid it on her middle. Then he pushed himself wearily to his feet.
“I’ve gotta deal w
ith her,” he said, jerking his head toward Noni. “With Lani and Nels. You should go to bed.”
“No,” she decided instantly. “I’ll stay. Bring them here. They need to know what happened, so they never have to doubt your version of what happened.”
“The surveillance system will have recorded it,” he reminded her.
“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have to tell them alone.”
He hesitated, then nodded and pulled out his comlink.
Nels and Lani arrived a few moments later, with the IGSF officers. They listened to Taara’s account of what had happened, and Creed told his part.
Lani broke down, and Nels sat with his arm around her, but he nodded at Creed. “You did what you had to, boss,” he said. “She was a bad girl.”
“It’s my fault,” Lani wept. “That girl was always in trouble. I brought her away from civilization to try and save her from ending up dead or in a gang.”
“She would have made a fine ganger at that,” Nels muttered. Lani wept louder and he patted her shoulder.
“You were trying to save family,” Taara said to Lani. “Anyone would have done the same. Family is important.”
Creed gave her an unfathomable look. “I don’t hold any of it against you,” he told Lani. “Hope you can forgive me.”
“For saving your lady?” Lani asked. She shook her head at him, swiping her wet face. “Oh, Mr. Creed, as if there was any choice.”
They all sat for a few more moments, and then Lani and Nels went off to help with cleanup.
Taara was helped to bed, not by Creed but by the medic. She took a showerdry and crept into her bed. She tried to wait for Creed, but exhaustion claimed her.
After it was all over, when his house was quiet, the IGSF officers gone with one of his cruisers along to haul the bodies, Creed walked slowly through his house to her room. She slept in the light of the three moons, a slight form in the big bed, hair streaming over her pillow.
Such a small woman to cut such a big, cratered gash through the middle of him. She’d reached in with those dainty hands and dipped out a big chunk of him. And he hadn’t even noticed until it was too late.
And his own brother had let her in. No, he’d forced her in, against her will. Creed turned away and let her sleep.
Back in his own rooms, he linked Stark, who stood in his new office in F City. He looked his usual urbane self, only those who knew him well would see the lines of strain bracketing his mouth, the weariness in his eyes.
“Creed,” he said hoarsely. “Thank God, you’re all right. I was on the verge of flying out there myself. We’ve been following the attack on holovid. You are all right?”
Creed stared at him. His brother, the man who’d raised him, cared for him. Steered him through schooling, and done his utmost to give him what Logan thought he needed.
This time he’d gone too far.
“Logan,” he said, biting the words out with cold precision. “I’m fine. I’m alive, my people are safe, the mine is safe and the compound can be repaired.”
He stared at Logan. God, he was tired. So tired, as if the roof still lay on his back, crushing him down. But he couldn’t rest until he said this. Until this wound was cauterized.
“I also know. About the deal you made with her. About everything.” He held up a hand when Stark took a step forward, eyes blazing with silver intensity. “I ... can’t listen to any more of your skrog shit, not now. What you did was wrong. You hurt her … and you hurt me. Know you didn’t mean to and that’s the only reason I’m not on my way to beat the living hells out of you, brother.”
He paused, then looked his brother in the eye. “One more thing. She did her work well. You make sure she gets everything you promised her. And then you leave her and her people alone.”
Then he broke the link. He knew that though he was staggering with exhaustion, he wouldn’t sleep. So he walked out onto his deck, overlooking the valley, and sank to the meditation mat, legs crossed and eyes closed.
Searching for peace. For a way back into his irridium shell. He wasn’t sure he would ever find it.
* * *
Taara woke with the sun shining into her room, incongruously a cheerful summer morning, as if nothing bad had happened. It should be dark and gloomy, she thought. A dark, wet New Seattle day would suit, after what had happened here.
But then the warm sunshine found its way into her heart and she smiled, tentatively but with hope. She couldn’t wait to see Creed, and talk to him. Surely they could find a way through their entanglement of emotions. Find a way to go forward, together.
For the truth had awakened with her. She loved him. That was this crazy, sweet sense of hope that buoyed her up, even as she clambered slowly and with care out of bed, her leg hurting with each move. She was in love, and it was more powerful than any injury. She would tell him, confess everything in her heart. And tell him he could take all the time he needed before he touched her again, if he’d just let her stay.
She hurriedly washed her face and dressed in the first thing she found that did not involve moving her injured leg too much, a little green dress with long sleeves and a deceptively modest neckline, but a cut that hugged her body from shoulder to mid thigh. She toed into the matching flats and limped carefully out into the galley.
There she found Coy waiting for her, drinking a cup of coffee at the breakfast table. The pilot smiled, clearly pleased to see her. “Hey, how are ya? Heard all about the fight yesterday. Sorry I missed that. Would’ve liked to kick some pirate ass myself.”
Taara found herself laughing. It felt good. “I believe you. Wish you’d been here to help too.”
Coy rose. “Here, you sit down. Get you some coffee?”
“Yes, thanks.” Taara sat carefully in her usual chair. “Where’s Creed?”
One of the cleaning droids hummed by in the hallway, dusting arms vaccing. The house was surprisingly neat, the detritus from the attack cleaned up, at least in here. Creed’s bedroom probably didn’t look this good.
Taara looked at the big island where she’d killed two men and shuddered. She was glad that from where she sat, she couldn’t see the floor where the pirates had died.
A thunderous banging ensued from the other end of the house. Coy handed Taara a mug of coffee and sat down. “Doing repairs on the roof. Been at it a while.”
She looked at Taara. “So, I’m ready to leave whenever you are. Can see why you’d like to head back for some city time after what you went through. Do some shopping ... “
Her voice trailed off, and she pressed her lips together, her gaze taking in Taara’s shock. “Skrog shit,” she muttered.
Taara managed to set the creamer down without spilling much. She stared at the pilot, her brain buzzing again, as if she’d had another shot of gesics.
“You’re here to get me?” she whispered.
Coy nodded, her eyes full of dawning pity. “That’s what he said. Linked me last night, late, asked me to get out here.” She took another drink of coffee. “Not just a shopping trip, eh?”
Taara shook her head numbly. “No.”
He hadn’t even had the guts to tell her himself. He’d let Coy tell her. That burned.
She sat for a moment, her thoughts racing, but in a downward spiral. Creed needed time, all right. But he did not want her around while he took it. And she couldn’t force him to feel what she felt. Maybe he never would. Maybe that was why he was so swift to push her away—because for him it was only physical. And the shock of finding out she’d been a ‘victim’ had ruined that, because that’s all there was.
She pushed back her chair, wincing as the movement pulled at her wound. She pushed to her feet.
“How soon can you be ready to go?” she asked.
“Soon,” Coy said slowly. “Listen, you sure?”
Taara lifted her chin, and stood tall. “Oh, I’m sure. He doesn’t want me to stay, and I … I have things to do in the city.”
Like getting a life. A life that sh
e chose, instead of letting it choose her.
In her room, her pride failed her. She sank on the end of her bed—carefully, because of her injured leg— and linked Daanel.
He appeared, standing in his new boutique, surrounded by his wares, but his hair a mess, his clothing wrinkled. “Taary. How are you? Thank goddess you’re all right. Stark let us know what happened, and that you survived, but goddess, I’m glad to see you.”
Then his smiled disappeared. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said, her voice wavering. “I get to come home.”
He stared at her, a dark scowl erasing his relief. “He’s sending you away, isn’t he? How does that work? Even after a near-death experience, he doesn’t see that he should be on his knees, begging you to stay?”
At any other time, Taara would have laughed at his dramatic turn of phrase, but now she could not summon even a smile.
“It’s not like that,” she said. “He’s hurting too. This whole thing—it was so wrong for him. I can’t say anymore, D. I just … I need to come, um, home.”
Even if this place, and the man who owned it felt more like home at the moment.
“What am I going to do?” she muttered.
“I’ll tell you.” Daanel clapped his hands briskly. “You’re going to pack, that’s what you’re going to do. And you’re going to come here to me, in F City. And then, we’re going to ... well, I don’t know what the quark we’re going to do. Get on with our new lives. Come on now, on your feet, girlie.”
She hadn’t meant that at all. She’d meant, how was she going to make Creed see, how was she going to get him back.
But that was not going to happen, she knew with a despair that went soul deep. She hadn’t started this, but she’d participated in betraying his trust. In the worst way possible for him.
Now he wanted her out of his life. And she had just enough pride left not to beg him to let her stay. Maybe he’d get over it, but it was going to take time and there wasn’t a thing she could do to rush that. And she didn’t want to try, didn’t want to hurt him anymore.
Creed of Pleasure; the Space Miner's Concubine (The LodeStar Series) Page 18
