by Susan Grant
The cold stone floor made no sound under his thin slippers. When the guards climbed a staircase and turned right, Ty realized that they were bringing him to the interrogation rooms. Beautiful. What did Kyber hope to get out of him now?
Information about the speechmaker, he realized suddenly. Maybe they thought he knew something about the transmission. “‘Give me liberty or give me death’,” he muttered loud enough for his escorts to hear, readying himself mentally for a long day of questions and possibly beatings.
They pushed him through one of the doors. The room was empty, and much larger than the one they’d used for his previous interrogations. There were no chairs, not even a stool. And it was spotless, the walls whitewashed, no bloodstains or crushed smokes anywhere. It even smelled clean. But then all he had with which to compare it was the dungeon.
The guards left him alone, locking him inside. Immediately, he searched for a way to escape, running his fingertips over the smooth surface, looking for telltale seams. A circuit of the room made one thing clear: the only way out was the way he’d come in—and it was locked.
Now to kill time waiting for whatever they had planned. Killing time—he’d done a fair share of that lately. One thing he’d learned about lengthy imprisonment was that it was boring as hell.
But this time he didn’t have long to wait. Not five minutes passed before the door opened and a tall, grim,
ascetic man strode inside. Kabul, Ty thought. The prince’s security chief.
The man’s elegant nostrils pinched closed at Ty’s odor, but he said nothing. Crisply, he took up a parade-rest position in one rear corner, facing the door.
Ty rubbed his chin and pondered Kabul’s appearance. Something big was going on. Maybe something good—as in the successful conclusion to his negotiated release. Yes, that was it. It was about time, too. He’d waited long enough for it.
Standing taller, he tidied his clothing—futile as the gesture was—half-expecting to see a representative of the UCE stride in next. When guards milling in the hallway separated to allow someone else through, Ty couldn’t help smiling. Here I am. Now, get me out of here.
But no representative of his government walked through the door. Banzai Maguire did.
Ty’s abdominal muscles went rigid, as if he’d taken a hit to the gut. In amazement, he watched her stride into the room. Her outfit was off-white and utilitarian—functional, with only a thick black belt, boots, and her hair hanging loose and shiny around her shoulders as adornment. Though she was small and feminine, the way she moved with her chin high and her shoulders squared demanded respect and notice. He would have noticed her no matter what.
She nodded curtly. “Hello, Commander.”
He nodded back. Ran a hand through his shaggy hair before he dropped his arm. She was sleeping with the emperor; why would she care what he looked like? Hell, why should he care? If she wanted his company, she’d have to take him the way he was.
But, seeing how pale she was, almost careworn, he knew she’d made a liar out of him. He’d never leave the kingdom if it meant abandoning her.
A mix of emotions passed over her face when she made eye contact with him: dismay at his ragged appearance along with a good dose of empathy. And a flash of something else, gone before he could make sense of it. Ah, well, he supposed if she couldn’t greet him with a hug and a kiss, feeling sorry for him was better than some other options he could think of, as in hatred or disgust. He’d given her a hard time the other night, and he was sure she remembered it, too. To her credit, she acted perfectly cool and in control.
He didn’t like it. He’d thought of her all these years, had grown up with her picture hanging by his bed. The least she could do was show some sort of reaction to him. Something more than this, damn it.
Banzai turned her attention to the security chief. “Do you have to stand there, Kabul?”
“It is what His Highness wants.”
She winced at the words “His Highness,” as if she hadn’t wanted Ty reminded of Kyber in any form. “I heard him. He said ‘nearby,’ not ‘in the room.’ Right there will work,”—she pointed to the door—“just outside.”
“But, my lady—”
“Now, Kabul. Please.”
With obvious reluctance, the thwarted chief complied. His glare in Ty’s direction was hot with warning. Ty could guess the man’s thoughts: Touch her and die. Or something like that.
The man had nothing to worry about. Ty could guarantee that if he ever had the chance to touch Banzai Maguire, it wouldn’t be to hurt her.
Ty remained silent, waiting for her to take the initiative while he selfishly filled his eyes with her—the legendary Banzai Maguire, in the flesh. He thought of all the ways he’d attempted to forget his fascination with her, namely with other women. But the relationships never lasted; only a few had left even the barest of tracks across his heart. The affairs merely reinforced his loneliness, the tediousness of his solitary existence. Oh, he filled his time well, no one would argue that, but now that he saw what he’d been missing, he wanted no substitutes. Banzai Maguire would be good for the country, and good for him. Now all he had to do was convince her of it.
“I’m glad we were able to meet again,” she said.
“As if I had a choice in the matter.”
His sarcasm surprised her—he saw it in her eyes—but serenely she ignored it. Kudos for the lady, he thought. On the other hand, it meant if he wanted to unsettle her, he’d have to try harder.
He took a lazy few steps toward her. The scent of her warm skin came to him, aromatic with something exotic and expensive from the royal baths. He hoped Kyber wasn’t the one who’d rubbed the oils over her body.
Her nose wrinkled. Not the reaction he was looking for, but it was a start. “Eau de Dungeon,” he said. “Like it?”
“I’ve smelled worse.”
He plucked at his grubby shirt. “Why didn’t the prince order me cleaned up like last time, I wonder?”
“I hurried him into arranging this. There probably wasn’t time.”
“I don’t think he wanted to risk you being attracted to another man.”
Outrage and surprise flared in her eyes. “I hate to tell you this, Armstrong, but neither of you have anything to worry about.”
“That’s what you tell yourself.”
She gave a soft but expressive snort. This time, the flash he’d seen earlier lingered long enough in her fiery green eyes for him to figure it out. It was awareness ...of the male-female kind. Ah, yes. He’d gotten a reaction out of her, all right, with an added bonus.
She folded her arms over her chest and paused to study him. “You’re right. I am interested.”
She reached out and ran a finger from the hollow at the center of his collarbone down his chest before tapping that finger on his stomach. His muscles contracted involuntarily.
“Very interested,” she said in a sultry whisper.
His body reacted to the change of attack even while his instincts told him to take cover.
Banzai lifted her chin to study his face, then paused. Did she know how badly he wanted to kiss her? No. “Interested in what you know about my wingman, Commander,” she finished.
He hadn’t realized how high he’d built his hopes until they came crashing down all around him. The woman had routed him! She’d correctly interpreted his desire to unnerve her and turned it back on him, letting him know as she did so exactly why she’d him brought here.
He made sure his embarrassment didn’t reach his face. “I don’t know anything,” he said sharply. And he wasn’t sure where to find the other cryopod. And if even if he were, he wouldn’t tell her just to have her hand over the information to Kyber. These two fighter pilots belonged to the UCE.
And Banzai belongs to you.
She lowered her voice further to evade the pricked ears of any chaperones peering through the door. “Listen, we don’t need to play games. You know why I arranged this meeting. You couldn’t talk at dinne
r that night. But this time, it’s just us.”
“Just us”—he tipped his chin at the door—“a dozen trolls and their boss.”
A depression formed between her brows. “It was the best I could do. Work with me, okay?”
He made no promises.
She exhaled. “Prince Kyber sent a rescue team back to the cave. They searched and couldn’t locate Cam.”
“Well, that’s not surprising. They didn’t know where to look.”
“But you do.” Hope flickered in her green eyes. He found he had to look away. He was less successful at evading the desperation in her voice. “Please, Commander. I know you know where she is. Help me find her.”
“And let you give her over to the Kingdom of Asia?” His tone was loaded with the disdain he felt toward the acting emperor. Little wonder she looked as if she wanted to leave the room. Or knee him in the balls. “Go back to Kyber and ask him to help,” he said irritably.
“I did. He searched the cave. They found nothing.”
“Well, then. I guess you’re stuck.”
Anger and frustration rolled off her in hot waves. “So that’s what it comes down to. You against Kyber. Bad blood between your country and his.” Her eyes blazed but her voice was remarkably calm. Under pressure, she’d fallen back on her combat training to act unemotional. He wondered if she’d be able to remain as unaffected if he ever had the chance to make love to her.
When he made love to her. He had to stay optimistic.
She lifted her chin another defiant notch. “That a soldier’s life hangs in the balance makes no difference to you.”
“Many soldiers’ lives hang in the balance. That’s why I’ll resist all such efforts at interrogation. If you don’t like it, have Kyber take over. But I warn you—I’ll die before I give up anything of value to him.”
He’d already given up the one thing that mattered. She stood within a meter of him, but it might as well have been a light year. He was as far from having her as he’d even been.
Banzai swallowed. “I was her commander.” She made a soft sound of pain. Suddenly, the sport had drained out of the situation. He’d never meant to hurt her, but it seemed he was doing a damned thorough job of it.
“I was responsible for her. And I lost her.” She lifted her eyes to his. “Do you have any idea what that means?”
He braced himself against the onslaught of memories of what he’d found in the Raft Cities. “Unfortunately, I do.”
She regarded him with sudden curiosity. He could feel her body heat, magnified by his awareness of her. He smelled like sweat and filth, but he’d sell his soul to hold her close, to feel her in his arms. He’d gone to the ends of the earth to find her, and he’d do the same to find her wingman. But not at the risk of losing both of them to Kyber. “Tyler Armstrong,” he recited. “Commander, eighty-twelve, one-one-seven-sixty-two-twenty-two. April third, twenty-one-forty-six...”
Banzai’s hands opened wide, but she grabbed hold of the sides of her trousers and not his neck as he’d half-expected. She turned her back to him and walked away. Took three steps and stopped. He saw her fists unclench, her fingers flexing. Finally she spoke, a quiet admission. “I wouldn’t have talked, either.”
With that, she left him. Probably for good. Since he had no information forthcoming, she had no need of him now. And if she no longer needed him, then neither did Kyber.
Suddenly, Ty was awash in gloom. His living moments might very well be numbered.
***
After lunch, outside in Kyber’s courtyard, the afternoon was cool, the sky heavy with rain clouds. The cold, damp wind was brisk, but Bree simmered with frustration.
She was alone. Kyber had disappeared into the palace to attend one of the innumerable meetings that cropped up unexpectedly throughout the day in addition to those that were scheduled. She’d long since learned that he was no decorative monarch, but a working king.
Arms folded in front of her, she watched plump, genetically engineered sapphire-and-gold fish wriggle in the clear water of Kyber’s reflecting pond. Reflection was the last thing she wanted to do. Her meeting that morning with Armstrong couldn’t have gone more wrong. She’d been sure he’d give her something, some tidbit, on Cam’s whereabouts, especially with Kyber out of the picture. But Armstrong was a captive, bound by a code of honor not to give the enemy any information. And that’s what she was to him, the enemy.
Or more accurately, Kyber was the enemy. The prince loomed over her shoulder, when not literally then symbolically. She was beginning to learn that it was more of a handicap than an advantage, being an extension of the prince, unless she wanted to intimidate people into coughing up what they knew about Cam and that cave. And she’d already learned that technique didn’t work with a man like Tyler Armstrong.
More, Armstrong distracted her...in the very way she didn’t want to be distracted. It was more than looks; she knew that much. He was cute, yes, but Kyber was more handsome. Yet, the prince didn’t affect her in nearly the same way. Maybe Tyler Armstrong had her tied up in knots because he presented such a challenge; he refused to give her what she wanted. She admired his focus and his principles, frustrating as they were, and his determination in the face of adversity. Or ...maybe it was the way he looked at her, seeing all the way inside, as if he’d known her forever. “Sleeping beauty,” he’d called her, she remembered with a slight smile. He always knew just what to say to make her blush—and she wasn’t the type to turn red. In the interrogation room, she’d had to call off her pretend seduction because she could see it was getting to her as much as it was to him. Yes, there was definitely something there—and she didn’t want it.
“There’s nothing wrong with seeing if there’s more to it, you know.” Cam’s teasing so long ago in the locker room rushed back.
Bree gave her head a shake. No. There wasn’t ever going to be anything “more” with Tyler Armstrong, a man whose father was the strong arm of the biggest imperial power the world had ever known. The idea of it was ludicrous. Not only that, the whole thing was technically impossible, pending his almost-certain conviction for trespassing.
“If you don’t take the risk, you’ll never find out.”
She gave a silent snort. Either she was way over-stressed or someone had put hallucinogens in the food she’d eaten for lunch.
Bree picked up a fallen leaf, red and delicate, and tossed it into the pond. The wind caught the edges and spun it around. Goldfish chased after the spinning leaf, pushing it across the water.
No matter how much Tyler Armstrong intrigued her, the fact remained that Kyber wouldn’t let him go. And the commander wasn’t talking as long as he remained under arrest. Two strong-willed men. It was obvious she wasn’t going to be able to sweet-talk them into anything.
She needed a plan. It was going to take something devious and completely unexpected. But what? Think, Maguire, think.
Okay, ask Kyber to let her go on her own expedition to the cave. If he refused, well, she’d do it on her own—and take Armstrong with her. He’d know how to get there; plus he was experienced with this new world, if not the Asian Kingdom itself. Yep, she’d need him if she went. But how would she accomplish all this? Her mind dove so deeply into full-bore plan-making mode that Kyber startled her when he appeared at her side.
He smiled down at her, his gray eyes soft.
“Hi,” she said. Guilt filtered through her. Her plans couldn’t include him. Nor could she say anything about them. It would sabotage her efforts. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.” Desperately, she tried to keep her private thoughts from appearing on her face.
His hand was warm and dry as it slid over her cheek. “You’re cold,” he murmured.
She let him take her into his arms. He was warm, smelling of leather and sandalwood, and she felt soothed by the embrace. Soothed, but not aroused. It wasn’t the same as touching Tyler Armstrong...
She squeezed her eyes shut. Stop.
Kyber’s palm rubbed ove
r her back in expanding circles. The fabric of her outfit was so thin that she felt every contour of his strong hand. “You are thinking of those you’ve lost,” he guessed correctly.
Well, sort of. “Yes.”
He gave her a squeeze. “This is your life now. I know you still grieve, and that you have focused that grief on finding your pilot friend, but you must endeavor to put tragedy behind you.”
Her eyes opened wide, and she stared into the garden. What if Kyber were right? What if she was dwelling too much on finding Cam? What if she’d become fixated on the rescue as a way of avoiding facing the loss of everything else that had been important to her, delaying acceptance of her new existence?
Kyber’s hands stroked up and down her back. “You are here now—here with me. Forget about the rest. I am the only one who can make you happy.”
That made her smile. “You are, huh?”
“Yes,” he answered with certainty.
She tipped her head back to look at him. “And would I be the only one to make you happy?”
His eyes twinkled. He knew exactly what she meant. “You do not care for my courtesans.”
“Competition energizes me. But not that kind.”
“None would ever come close to competing with you, Banzai.”
Her mouth gave a wry twist. “The perfect Kyber-answer.”
“The answer is perfect only if it convinces you to think only of me.” His fingers slipped into her hair, and he loosed it from her ponytail, spreading the strands over her shoulders. Then he kissed the side of her neck.
Her back tingled, and she gave an involuntary shiver. His lips were soft and warm. Her eyes closed as her head tipped back, exposing her throat to more kisses.
Her reaction to Kyber’s touch was...nice, but somehow subdued. She tried to work up more of a response as his arms folded around her, molding her to his body. His kiss was firm, and her lips parted under the pressure. His tongue skillfully penetrated, enticing more than demanding.
