by Mina Carter
“Knights, we’ve got an unknown vessel inbound and on a direct course that will intersect with the Pendragon. Tighten up and stay on task with the package. Proceed with escort, but keep your eyes and ears open. Knight One, leaving formation.”
She knew not to panic. If there were any sort of problem, they would have received word from the ‘Dragon already.
“Pendragon, this is Phoenix. I’ve got an inbound craft showing on my radar that no one made me aware of. It’s not a Fleet Ident code, and my computer isn’t pulling up the registry. Is this a friendly that is expected, or should I turn them away like an unwanted salesman? Over.” She waited for a response, but still moved at a fast clip to try to intercept the ship before it got to the Pendragon.
“Shit!” she cursed out loud. They had approached on her blind side from behind the bigger ship. By doing that, there was no way she’d be able to cut them off before they hit the ship she now called “home.”
The hanger doors to the shuttle bay opened, so that meant they had clearance, but no one had bothered to respond to her call for confirmation on the identification of the transport.
“Phoenix, inbound is a friendly. Resume escort,” finally came the answer. Not Vann, but a communications officer.
It was too late for her to rejoin the escort detail. Her gaze locked onto the side of the transport ship. She knew it by not only its sleek shape, but by the identification on the side. It couldn’t get any plainer. Boldly painted on the side were the words, “9th/12th Wildcats.”
She thought her heart would burst from her chest. Screw the escort detail. Hanson could manage the rest of it.
“Hanson, this is King. You’ve got command of the rest of the escort detail. I’ve got somewhere I’ve got to be. King out.”
She hit the thrusters on her fighter and made a beeline for the shuttle bay. Light speed couldn’t get her there fast enough. She came in hot, sending flight deck mechanics and crew members diving for safety. Curses were shouted at her so loud she heard them over the roar of her bird’s engines.
Her gaze darted around until she saw the Wildcat’s sleek ship tucked neatly in the back of the hanger. Bypassing all the fighter bay slots, she flew directly to the back and touched down right next to the mercenary ship’s front end.
The roar of her engines and the commotion she caused in the shuttle bay had several of the Wildcats rushing out of the ship. They were ready for trouble, but restrained, as if unwilling to open fire in the bay on a Fleet ship.
Initiating a rapid shut down of the fighter’s engines and all systems, Summer dragged the helmet off her head and shoved the canopy open when it didn’t open fast enough. Vaulting out of the cockpit, she hit the deck plating at a run, heading toward the tall warriors who had come out to see what all the ruckus was about.
Elation at seeing “Her Boys” again put a huge smile on her face, but she looked for the one warrior she couldn’t see. Roz. Most looked at her as if they had seen a ghost, mouths hanging open, shock on their faces.
Dread clawed at her. They heard about the Tipton and they thought that she was dead. Roz thought she was dead. Hands extended out to touch her as she stopped to stand before Jei. She reached for him, and at the same time, he engulfed her in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet as she returned his embrace.
“Where is he? Where’s Roz?” she managed to get out, even though she could barely breathe.
Jei finally set her down. Lifting one heavily-tattooed, muscled arm he pointed to the lift. “That way. He went to s—”
She didn’t wait for him to finish. She just ran like the wind, sending people scurrying out of her way. He was here. Roz was here! She hit the lift so fast she had to catch herself with her hands to prevent from splattering against the back wall. Jei called after her that Roz had gone to the bridge, so that’s where she headed.
“Roz. I’m coming, Angel.”
* * *
He had a hangover and a bad attitude. The two weren’t mutually exclusive. He’d only had the hangover since this morning. The bad attitude was a permanent fixture. Roz scowled as he leaned against the back of the lift as it took him up to the command deck of the Pendragon. He wouldn’t have it for long, though.
As soon as he got back to the ship, he planned on getting up close and personal with a few bottles of cheap Altasian whiskey he’d picked up. The stuff could double as engine degreaser, so it should tide him over. Keep him safely unconscious until they were ready to ship out again.
The doors opened in front of him and he pushed off the wall. Arms loose by his side, he swaggered onto the bridge and scowled around. Fleet officers. Most of them were poncy-assed idiots who couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag.
A couple of them looked back and then quickly looked away again. Roz snorted in derision. They wouldn’t look back, not unless they were really brave. The Wildcats had a reputation within the Fleet, and the Ninth Twelfth were the worst of all. He had no doubt they were all aware that a ‘Cat ship had come in, but even without that knowledge, one look at him in black on black combats with the heavy non-Fleet pistol on his hip would be enough to tip them off.
Running a hand through his scruffy, blond hair, he strolled across the bridge and knocked on the door to the Ship Commander’s office.
“Come in,” a deep male voice announced, so, Roz pushed the door open. He nodded to the tall man just rising from behind the desk.
“Hello, Dad. You hollered?”
* * *
Summer didn’t sit about eating bon-bons in her down time. She also worked out, sparred with others in the ship’s practice ring and she ran. She didn’t jog, she was a runner. She pounded the decks, or the treadmill, with a vengeance, and as a result, she was lean and sleekly muscled. Right now, all those muscles burned as she ran as fast as she could through the corridors to get to the bridge.
Where the hell had all these people come from? Shouldn’t they be on duty somewhere? Irritation filled her as she dodged and wove her way through the uncooperative crew. Some heard her coming and stepped out of the way, pressing up against the walls to give her plenty of room.
Reaching back as she ran, she pulled the elastic out of the end of her long braid. She groaned as she looked ahead and spotted the bottleneck outside the mess hall. Taking the few moments she was forced to squeeze her way through the press of bodies, she pulled the plaited sections loose. Her hair had still been damp when she had braided it, so it smelled fresh, clean and of floral scented shampoo and conditioner.
Finally, she broke clear to the other side and started her mad dash again. Coming to another lift, she almost screamed in frustration at the gaggle of gossiping women who blocked her path. When the doors slid open, she crammed herself into the small space. She wasn’t going to wait around for another lift. Riding up in it with them chattering would be a small price to pay to finally see him again.
The topic that was being discussed by the gaggle of geese? Saarday Vann and his hot body. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. If he heard about this, he’d puff up and get even cockier about his looks. Then again, if his fiancée heard about it, she’d probably make a few rounds, and the loose talk about the commander’s tight ass would stop.
She snickered—that was something she’d pay to see. With a hiss, the doors slid open again and she lunged out into the command center. The hub of all decisions made on the Pendragon.
“Roz! Angelis! Taren! You get your sorry ass back in here!”
The bellow rang across the bridge as Summer emerged onto it. The fact her commanding officer, a man she’d rarely seen angry let alone mad enough to lose it, paled into insignificance against the figure stalking toward her.
Roz. Her angel.
He hadn’t seen her yet, turning over his shoulder to shout. “You know what, Dad? Screw you!”
Part of her brain heard him call Saarday “Dad,” the same part that heard him yell right back at her CO. She heard it, but it didn’t register. She only saw Roz. She went
from a shocked, frozen standstill to hurtling rocket in the blink of an eye. He never saw her coming.
She didn’t see the same thing she knew everyone else on the bridge saw when they looked at him. They saw the dangerous mercenary. All she saw was the man she loved.
Colliding into him with a thud, her body hit his, hard enough to knock him backward. She hadn’t given a single thought to her safety, or possibly what state of mind he might be in. Throwing her arms around his waist, she wrapped him up the way her brothers had shown her all those years ago. She had learned well. Locking her arms around him, she held on for dear life, not caring if they ended up in a heap on the deck plating in front of everyone.
Knocking him off his feet, they went down hard in a tangle of limbs and her loose hair. In a replay of that first kiss in the alley back on the base, he twisted like a cat, taking the brunt of the fall as she sprawled over him.
Instantly, his hands were in her hair, pushing the tumbling mass back so he could get a look at her face. His expression was a cross between elation and shock, his skin white, as if he’d seen a ghost. His next words bore that suspicion out.
“Summer? How? You’re dead. You were dead. The Tipton—I saw it.” He paused as though he’d run out of words. With a groan, he dragged her lips to his and kissed her as if he weren’t lying on the deck plating of a Fleet warship in front of everyone.
Kissing him with everything she had kept locked inside her, she didn’t hold anything back. With a whimper, she angled her head so she could deepen their kiss. The wet slide of his tongue against hers made her shudder. His stubble scraped the soft skin on her face, but she didn’t care. He was finally back in her arms where he belonged.
Finally, after long moments, Summer found the will to break off the kiss so she could gaze into his beautiful, stunned eyes, as though he didn’t believe what he saw. Bringing her hand up to caress his face, she smiled at him, drinking in the sight of him.
“Roz…” she breathed, losing herself in his kiss as she twined her arms underneath and around his neck.
He groaned deeply and wrapped her up in his arms. His embrace was so tight she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care. Finally, he broke the kiss to bury his face in her neck.
“Lady’s teeth, I thought I’d lost you. Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he breathed against her skin.
“Roz Taren! Get your ass—oh for fuck’s sake. Someone get him off her!”
Saarday’s voice shattered the silence on the bridge as the Fleet Commander stormed out of his office. His eyes, so like Roz’s, widened as he saw the pair of them on the floor.
Instinctively, Summer tried to curl closer to Roz as several members of the security team moved in to pull them apart. She was the one on top of him. Hell, she had tackled him. Hard hands clamped down on her upper arms and someone grabbed her around her waist. When they pulled, she flipped over without warning and struck out at them wildly, connecting a right hook with the man who had tried to drag her off.
“No! Don’t you touch him,” she snarled.
“Let go of her. King. My office. Now!”
Her commander’s voice was a sharp snap that brought her back to reality. Glaring at the security officers who’d laid hands on her, and daring them to try something else, she rolled to her feet. Her gaze shot briefly to the man who had called off the security team. She realized with a sinking feeling she had probably just stepped into a big, steaming pile of shit with the stunt she’d just pulled.
Keeping herself between Roz and those who were too stupid to know what a mistake it was to try to grab him, she had the odd thought she hadn’t protected him, as much as she had prevented him from tearing into anyone. He might have been off his game momentarily by the shock of seeing her alive, but she guessed it had worn off by now as he sprang to his feet.
“Lay a hand on her again and you’ll not only lose it,” he promised, stopped by her hand in the center of his broad chest, “but I’ll take it off at the shoulder. Understand me?” Anger radiated from him, his body stiff with tension.
“Roz—in there—now,” she half ordered, half begged, pushing on his chest until he backed up through the office door.
He pulled her against him; at the same time, he reached out to slam the door shut with such violence and power the picture frames on the walls rattled. For a moment, she was right where she wanted to be again and forgot about everything else until Saarday cleared his throat, in a less than gentle reminder they weren’t alone.
Turning her head, she found her CO glaring at them, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he waited for her to extricate herself from Roz’s arms.
He’s going to throw me in the brig for punching that guy. Shit.
The large Commander looked from one to the other for a long moment. His expression more forbidding than she’d ever seen it. Finally, he narrowed his gaze on Roz.
“Would you like to explain yourself?”
Roz shrugged. “Not particularly. It’s none of your damn business.”
For a second, she thought she saw amusement in Saarday’s green eyes. Green eyes like Roz’s. Shit.
Dragging her gaze away from the man several feet away from them, she looked up at the one she held on to. The man who still refused to loosen his hold on her. The shape of their eyes was slightly different, but the color was almost an exact match. Too close to be a coincidence. Her brain replayed the first thing she heard him say when she saw him crossing the bridge: “You know what, Dad? Screw you.”
She couldn’t move. Shock held her still as she waited for someone to break the silence. Roz’s mouth twisted in a sneer, but he stubbornly wasn’t speaking. Looking back at Saarday, she saw he smirked at the two of them, but his gaze watched her as she put the pieces together.
“Someone please tell me what is going on! Explain what?”
The note of uncertainty in her voice rubbed at her rapidly fraying nerves. Tilting her head back, she looked up at the blond man who had become her entire life.
“Roz?”
He looked down at her for a second, and she read the frustration and uncertainty there. He didn’t get a chance to speak; instead, Saarday broke the silence.
“What my son is struggling to explain is why he’s gone and gotten himself married without telling anyone. Including his bride.”
Summer’s head whipped around so fast her neck cracked. She felt lightheaded, getting that odd feeling she was stuck in a dream. Things had gone from wonderful to surreal in the span of a matter of minutes.
Married?
While she wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her life with Roz, this had to be some sort of a joke.
“You’ve got to be shitting me…I think I’d remember something as important as getting married.”
She looked at Roz, but he was too busy glaring at his father, and she was still trying to reconcile her Commander being anyone’s father much less Roz’s to notice.
Saarday didn’t reply. Instead, he stripped off his uniform jacket and undershirt with a quick, angry movement. She didn’t know where to look. She’d never been in a situation where her boss, and if she were to believe him, her father-in-law, had stripped right in front of her.
Her jaw hit the ground. Father–in-law or not, he was ripped. Heavily toned muscles covered his body. Hell, even his muscles had muscles. A delineated six pack rippled down toward—
She cut her own thought off, right there.
“How about this…” Saarday stabbed a thumb toward the intricate design that covered most of his chest. She froze. It was in exactly the same place Roz had asked her to draw on him. “Does he have anything like this? Did you draw anything like this on him?”
By her side Roz growled, a sound of anger and frustration. “Put. Your. Fucking. Shirt. Back. On.”
Her brain stuck on two things. One, Saarday’s muscular body looked like that of a Greek god. It wasn’t that she thought he had a better body than Roz’s, it was just more mature and fill
ed out. She looked at Saarday and didn’t see her Commander, instead, she saw what Roz would grow into. It wasn’t hard to see the same strong lines and coiled power in their frames.
One—he was every inch his father’s son, but better. Her very own Heracles, her hero. Her angel. Two—he really was Saarday’s son and she’d have to come to terms with that. It blew her mind at the way the universe had aligned to bring everything together, as if it were always meant to play out this way. Kismet. Fate. Destiny. She didn’t know if she should thank God or the Lady for planning things out this way, so she thanked both of them.
Three…oh hell, she thought there were only two things her brain kept churning over and over again, around in her head. The list probably went on and on indefinitely. Three—that was the same sort of design she had drawn on Roz’s chest. She wanted to know exactly what it meant, even if she had already put it together for herself. She thought back to how he had looked so serious and intent while he had bent over her, running the tip of the permanent pen along her skin.
Slowly, she nodded her head at Saarday. Next to her, still in the circle of her arms, Roz seethed with anger. Anger and something else.
“Yeah…yes, I did. Why?”
Chapter Eleven
He was going to punch his father’s lights out. Roz stood stock still as he fought the urge. He’d always had a temper, the same temper that radiated from Saarday’s eyes. He had to learn to control it, he wanted to learn to control it, for the slender woman who stood protectively in front of him.
He spread his hand over her lower back where the marks he’d drawn on her were no doubt gone by now. In his heart of hearts he wanted them to still be there, wanted her to have mirrored the feeling in his heart and soul and made them permanent. He knew that was too much to ask for, though. There was nothing to say she felt the same way about him as he did for her.
