“She’s right. I never noticed before.”
She grinned, her mood suddenly buoyant. She’d relish a good fight and who better to provide it for her than the Delroi who’d put her in this position in the first place? The only thing that marred her good humor was the men at her side. Alrik wore a scowling, thoughtful expression and Daggar’s face had gone darkly fierce, his countenance like a black thundercloud. Their expressions seemed too severe a reaction to a little firefight. She frowned. Such downers the both of them.
“What?”
Daggar gave her look full of is this woman dim or just crazy? “My own people are firing at us.”
She widened her eyes and feigned a look of surprise. “Wow. Really? That would mean this peace isn’t as welcome by your side as much as you’d like us to believe, wouldn’t it?”
Daggar opened his mouth for a rebuttal, but Alrik interrupted. “We don’t have time for this. Listen. Movement in the hills around us.”
Daggar snapped his mouth shut and she strained her ears to listen for what Alrik heard. There wasn’t much. Whoever the unseen enemy were, they were good. There was a soft grunt, an occasional shifting of sand that was too measured to be natural.
“How many?” she murmured, guessing by the calculating look on Alrik’s face he had a much better estimate than she. He shook his head slightly.
“Fifteen? No way to know for sure.”
“They’re as good as my scouts, whoever they are.”
“From the Southern tribes probably.” He exchanged a look with Daggar. “Don’t even entertain the thought, brother.”
She hated being left out. “What? What thought?”
“Barak is from the Southern tribes,” Alrik answered. She got the impression he did so without considering who it was he spoke to. The statement seemed full of meaning she didn’t have the knowledge to translate and she found she had to force herself to concentrate—Alrik was still touching her. Light, feathery strokes that made it increasingly difficult to focus. She tried to pull away, but he just grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers.
“Barak? Isn’t he the guy with the tattoos on his face?”
“Yes. My spymaster.”
“Ah. And are you sure he’s on our side?”
Alrik looked down at her, even in a crouch he towered over her, and smiled. “Have you decided you’re on our side? One of us?”
His words froze her for a moment, but then her stomach spasmed and she pulled her hand free to lay a palm flat over her belly. Earlier words came back to her, a previous suggestion, and she knew with the same certainty that had led her to victory in many battles that he was right.
She was pregnant.
She closed her eyes. Would she ever be allowed to raise an alien child on Earth? She didn’t think so; she’d be forced into hiding. Peace was one thing, but fraternization with the enemy by someone of her rank—literally sleeping with the enemy—was something else entirely. If she wanted her child to live, she would have to choose a side and the choice was obvious. Alrik was more powerful among his people that she was with hers. Opening her eyes, she followed his gaze. He’d noted her reaction, saw her hand still pressed over her stomach in that age-old protective instinct, and covered it with his.
“I am with you. But you should not view that as some kind of capitulation. I cannot change what I am.”
“Will not,” Daggar muttered but Alrik smiled again. The heat that burned between them was back in his eyes and something else. Some of that emotion she’d seen him so desperately trying to deny earlier. He removed the hand covering hers and lifted her hand from her stomach to his mouth, pressing a kiss on her palm.
“I’m beginning to understand that’s not at all what I want,” he said softly.
She didn’t think she believed him, but her voice failed her. Her belly somersaulted and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was impossible to deny the heat coursing through her, but she had to find a way to delay it, confine it. It was not the time. Not the place. She opened her eyes and forced her voice to be brisk.
“So what of Barak?” She asked the question of Daggar instead of Alrik. He’d already proven he’d defend his spymaster no matter the circumstances. It had nothing to do with the carnal look she knew still lingered in his eyes. She cringed inwardly at the denial. Yeah right.
Daggar, obviously unaware of her internal debate, gave a slight shake of his head. “I’ve no reason to distrust Barak. He’s served us well.”
“But?”
“The tribes of the Southern Ranges have always been … unpredictable. Independent and headstrong. They do not accept the leadership of others easily.”
She narrowed her eyes. There was a story here that was not forthcoming. “And how long have they been forced to accept yours?”
Alrik laughed, a short barking sound. “Generations. Our great-great-grandfather formed the council with the healers and artists. Then he took control of all the warrior tribes. The fight for the South was predictably bloody.”
The three warriors with them drew close enough to hear.
“It is not the peace or our reason for being here that they object to, Laney,” Daggar said softly. “It is the rule of the Torfa family. Our family. My rule. They would undermine it where they could. If Alrik and I died, there would be no heir and, a foolish bloodthirsty rush to seize the office of Overchief.”
But there was an heir. She was certain of it. And the fact that she carried the Torfa heir made the situation all the more dangerous and success imperative. If something—God forbid—were to happen to Alrik and Daggar what would become of her and her child? She would find no succor on Earth. She looked around and met the gazes of the warriors with them. The proud stern-faced men she’d seen so often in the past few days but couldn’t name.
There was a difference between picking a side and taking a side she realized. She looked at Daggar and then Alrik.
“But there is an heir. The question is: Who will protect him if something happens to his father and uncle?”
She knew what she was soliciting and looked to the warrior, the one who’d been with her most the past few days, who seemed to be most senior. Was she asking too much? He banged one fist over his heart and bowed his head briefly.
“As long as a Torfa heir lives, we will protect him, my lady.”
“And if it’s a girl?”
He smiled. “She will be doubly protected, Lady Torfa.”
“Jaxon is one of my few Captains who has a der’lan.” Alrik’s amusement was obvious. “And a daughter.”
She smiled with her own rare sense of mirth. “I doubt any daughter of mine will ever need much protecting.”
Jaxon snorted and she was pleased to see the suspicion she’d once seen in his eyes had been replaced by something that was almost respect. “Perhaps not, but she will have it regardless.”
“Very well, then.” She turned her gaze to the area beyond this small group of men and her mind to getting them free. She directed her question at Alrik. “Fifteen you think?”
“Or thereabouts. What are you thinking?”
She shrugged. “I’m thinking we concentrate enough fire on one end here to allow a sniper to escape on the back.”
Alrik and Daggar turned on her at once, eyes narrowed and cold.
“And who would you suggest for that job?” Alrik asked.
She shrugged. Grinned. “Well, I was a sniper before I got promoted to such a lofty position I don’t actually work anymore.”
“No,” came a chorus of responses and she laughed, feeling better than she’d felt in days.
“I’m smaller and faster and probably a better shot than all of you.”
“My lady,” Jaxon said. “You carry the heir of Torfa.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “So? I have as much interest in my survival as you do.”
“No Laney,” Alrik said. “You know we won’t take that risk.”
“Oh, please. I’m our best shot!”
He grabbed
her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “I will not risk our child. You shouldn’t either.”
She blinked. Damn. She’d been thinking about being pregnant, but not how her actions could put the baby at risk. Would she have to factor that into every move she made in the future? Maybe, but it didn’t change anything now. She shook her head.
“Still has to be done, honey,” she murmured so softly she doubted anyone heard.
“Not by you,” he answered just as softly.
So Alrik heard at least. She looked around the small group, hoping her eyes were cold and determined enough to convince them. She couldn’t explain why, but knew it had to be her that went. Maybe there was one way. Her gaze rested on Jaxon.
“What do your people call me?”
He blinked, surprised at the question.
“Come on, Jaxon. What do y’all call me?”
“The Butcher of Roses,” he answered softly clearly reluctant.
“And am I hated for Roses?”
Alrik had been busy avoiding looking at her, but jerked his head up at the question. “Laney, don’t,” he warned.
Her smile was probably sad. The course seemed clear to her, but though they may eventually agree they’d never approve.
“The way I see it, you have several problems.” She ticked them off on her fingers as she continued. “The discontent among your people. Among mine. The reality of who I am. Not only as someone feared and hated by your people, but the kind of woman I am. I will never be weak and docile and submissive.”
He started to respond, but she held her hand up to forestall him.
“Something else to consider. The appearance of weakness. If you insist on protecting me, if you insist on preventing me from acting to protect myself and mine, you make me look weaker to your enemies and that’s deadly for all of us.”
She paused for a deep breath and tried to order her thoughts, but in the end it was unnecessary. Daggar spoke before she got the chance.
“She’s right.” Alrik glared at them both, but his brother continued softly with an edge of steel underlying his voice. He met everyone’s gaze in turn as he did, finally stopping and staying on her. It was clear this was the Overchief speaking. Not Alrik’s brother. Not her soon to be brother-in-law. She felt a tremor that had nothing to do with Alrik hovering next to her. Daggar would make a formidable foe. And an equally valuable friend, the strategist within her that evaluated chances whispered. The more so if he was willing to use whatever resources were at his disposal despite it going so far against the grain, so opposed to his instinctive need to protect women. She saw that and so much more in his gaze. Suddenly understood exactly why he was Overchief and how he held it. “She is the Butcher of Roses. Do any of us really believe she can’t do this thing?”
Silence fell over the group and she turned to Alrik. “I can do this. I best of all of us here.”
Eventually he nodded and she saw comprehension light his eyes as he finally understood why she had to do this. For so many reasons. Because it was who she was. To prove to him, to them, that she could and that she’d taken their side. To demonstrate that to all of their enemies, be they from Delroi or Earth. And to show everyone her change in social status and marital state hadn’t altered her. She’d defend herself and those she loved against all comers. She would not be a victim. She hadn’t been weakened. She glanced at Alrik. Perhaps she’d even been strengthened. He didn’t give her the chance to say anything else, pulling her into his arms for a kiss that curled her toes.
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Chapter Nine
Things got off to a good start, but she should have known better than to hope that would last. The shuttle pilot was exceptional. Alrik was right about that. He’d landed in a long narrow space with mere feet to spare on each side of the long craft. He’d also positioned it so that the back would have scraped the rocky incline behind it had he been off only a few inches. A very narrow space existed there, barely wide enough for a small thin woman to squeeze through. By landing in such a way, he’d ensured there was a reasonably big clearing at the head of the shuttle.
There were snipers in front of them and on one flank of the shuttle. The other side was a low earthen wall that provided no cover and what was now a vast barren valley. But the rocky incline behind them appeared to be uncovered. None of the shooting came from that direction, at least. She couldn’t know for sure until she tried to climb it. It was a gamble, but with their comm down, enemies on two sides, and unable to risk the exposure of the valley where they’d be little more than moving targets, it was the only viable option.
They all agreed the clearing was where they should draw the enemy fire and the best place for the Delroi to attack from, since it provided the only maneuvering room. Plus Laney would have a better chance at climbing up the tricky slope at the rear of the shuttle if they were able to force the unknown snipers to concentrate on one area.
The plan was simple and they put it into action. Two of the warriors and Laney lay down and low crawled into position near the center of the shuttle, one at her side and one up under the belly of the ship. They were there to cover her, an order she’d protested but not too much. She knew Alrik wouldn’t budge on that small safety measure. The remaining warrior moved into position with Daggar and Alrik at the front of the ship. At Daggar’s signal, everyone fired. Automatic and unrelenting shots.
She heard movement above them as the enemy warriors rushed to defend their position on the front of the clearing. When she was reasonably sure the way was clear, she broke cover, crouching down as low as she could and still run. She exhaled a pent-up, relieved breath when she reached the stony wall and no one shot at her. Behind her she heard screaming and knew Alrik and his men had managed a few lucky shots, but she didn’t have time to spare for rejoicing as she hurried to climb free. Alrik was in her mind the whole way—alternately encouraging and scolding whenever she slowed down and tried to see the action below her.
She was almost to the top when a hand reached down and grabbed her wrist. Surprised, she lost the mental connection with Alrik and jerked her gaze up—she’d been too focused on the events below her—and looked into the piercing blue gaze and tattooed face of Barak Trace. He hauled her up and when her knees landed on the packed dirt she rolled, springing to her feet and drawing her weapon as she moved. He faced her a few feet away, his feet braced apart in a fighting stance and his own gun raised.
“Are you here to help?” Laney asked. “Or deter?”
“Depends on who I’m helping.”
She smiled, slight and cold, knowing he wouldn’t get her reference even as it came to her. “You’re either with us or against us.”
He shrugged. “Again. It depends on who us is.”
He was calm and sure, and she couldn’t read anything on his face. Alrik trusts him. She decided to gamble.
“I stand on the side of the Torfa heir.”
She said it as calmly as she could, back rigid and waiting for a possible attack. She should be nervous, but the truth was she was calm. She’d reached certain understandings about herself and her shifting world in the last hour. If she survived this day she would no longer simply be Sergeant Major Laney Bradford, though a part of her would remain so. She would also be Lady Laney Torfa, one of the most powerful women on Delroi. She couldn’t say for sure yet, but she thought such a position meant she should face life and death with dignity.
Thankfully, death didn’t appear to be on the agenda.
Barak lowered his weapon in slow, smooth increments. She was almost distracted enough by this small victory to miss the flash of movement behind him.
“Roll right,” she said harshly keeping her tone low so as not to alert the approaching enemy. Barak moved just in time and she fired at the man who sprang up behind his retreating form. He fell dead at her feet. Barak was at her side in a heartbeat.
“What’s going on here? I couldn’t reach anyone by comm.”
“Did you know about
the demonstration?”
He nodded.
“Well, after the first phase, the ship was fired at. It exploded. Then we came under fire. We created a diversion so I could get up here.” She reached for the small communicator Alrik had given her and keyed it. “Still dead.”
Barak frowned. “They’re using a dampener.”
She looked at him, taking note of how his expression barely changed, the laugh lines around his eyes just deepening, the blue in his eyes turning a little darker. So this was the Spymaster distressed.
“So it’s up to us,” she murmured. She raised her voice, used her commander’s tone and demanded a situation report. “Sitrep.”
He turned to fully face her, his back straightening. His eyes flashed and she recognized his indecision. He was unaccustomed to answering to women but he wasn’t sure if she should be the exception. She only cocked an eyebrow while she waited him out. Ninety percent of getting people to follow your lead, she’d found, lay in acting as if they had no choice. Bravado. Pure and simple. She wasn’t sure if it worked or if he was humoring her.
“Five down. At least seven left.”
She hadn’t noticed when they flew in, but they stood on top of a small crescent-shaped mesa. It seemed obvious that they should split up, one taking each side. None of the enemy shared the top with her and Barak. They were lower down the sides hidden behind the huge boulders that dotted the hillside.
“We split up then. Pick a side, Barak Trace.” She grinned, the anticipation of a sniper’s hunt coming over her. He stilled and his eyes grew colder.
“You seem much too light-hearted about this situation.”
She chuckled, but was careful to keep the sound low despite the sounds of continued covering gunfire from below. Which reminded her. She approached the edge and sent her thoughts out to Alrik. She felt Alrik reaching his awareness out to her. She knew he was still angry over her involvement, but he kept most of that from her, wrapping her in warmth and relief. He admonished her for taking so long to reach safety and she shivered at the image he shared with her, spanking her and then fucking her. Pressing her lips together, she hissed her frustration. Not the time. Not the place. She needed to concentrate to get this done. He responded with a laughing caress that made her nipples pebble and her pussy throb. Promising to fulfill every carnal fantasy later, he quit teasing her. She showed him his friend was on the ledge with her and felt his quickly hidden relief. She wasn’t sure if that meant he thought she couldn’t get the job done or if he trusted Barak with the task more than her. Both thoughts rankled.
Invasion Earth Page 10
