Steel Coyote

by Beth Williamson

  “Hmph. So this your new pilot?” He cocked a thumb at Max, looking to her for confirmation.

  She could say no, and Max might get a pounding he’d remember for quite some time. She could say yes and get the job. Either way, he wasn’t going to make it to the Polaris for the job interview. Saint would lecture him later. The captain of the cruise ship would probably never hire him, but Max was chivalrous enough to rescue a damsel in distress.

  Hopefully she didn’t shoot him for it.

  “We didn’t shake hands on it yet, but yeah, he’s my pilot. After Jefferson left, I needed someone with experience on Emerson class ships.” She lied so smoothly, Max almost believed it.

  Cooper eyed him up and down then turned back to the woman. “What berth number?”

  “Three twenty-three.”

  Cooper nodded and got to his feet. “If you’ve got him at the helm, then I’ll be at the Steel Coyote at five tomorrow morning. He’s got skills and the rep to back it up.”

  As the big man lumbered away, Saint joined the conversation from his perch on Max’s shoulder. He probably would have watched while the big fucker pounded him into the ground. “You have started something you cannot finish. Again.”

  Max ignored him and smiled at Hawthorne.

  “Guess I’m your new pilot.”

  She scowled at him. “I should kick your ass.”

  Remy had never been so furious and helpless at the same time. She’d nearly lost the job because of Cooper’s inexplicable last minute change of heart—another nail in the sabotage coffin. Then, this black-haired stranger with ice-blue eyes and a flashy smile stepped in and lied. And his lie made her lie. She was fully capable of taking care of herself and her ship without any help. Now this man had pushed her into a corner, and she resented him for it.

  She wanted to shoot him. Or at the very least, punch him. Even the hologram disapproved of his foolishness.

  “What did you think you were doing?” She stood and faced him, her hand itchy on the butt of her pistol.

  “Saving your ass.”

  “I didn’t need saving.”

  “Didn’t sound that way to me.”

  “You shouldn’t eavesdrop on people.”

  He had the audacity to shrug. “You shouldn’t meet in a bar if you don’t want people to listen to your conversation.”

  She refused to concede he was right. The meeting in the bar wasn’t her idea, but the man still shouldn’t have been listening. “If I see you again, I’ll shoot you.”

  Remy had to walk away or she would do something that might catch the attention of the local law. Worse, put her crew and ship in jeopardy because she couldn’t meet Cooper for the drop.

  “Where are you going?” The fool Fletcher followed her out of the bar, with the hologram perched on his shoulder and a small black bag in his hand.

  Royal started after them, concern on his face, but she held up her hand to stop him. There wasn’t a man alive Remy couldn’t manage on her own. Gun or no gun.

  “Back to my ship.”

  He walked along beside her, his long gait matching hers. She picked up her pace and he sped up, too. Remy came to an abrupt halt, absurdly pleased when he almost fell on his face trying to stop.

  “You can stop following me now.”

  “I can’t. I work for you now, remember? You think Cooper is going to let you load his cargo in the morning if I’m not there?” His handsome grin made it worse.

  “Look, if it’s not the Corporation, it’s the Great Family or whoever has painted a target on my back. Someone is always taking food from my crew’s mouths.” She poked a finger into his chest. A hard chest that made her finger smart, damn it. “I don’t need someone like you fucking with my business, too.”

  “I told him to mind his own business.” The hologram spoke up, and she looked at the little man more closely.

  “Is that a Moral Compass?” She was quite honestly astonished. She’d never seen one of the devices up close.

  Fletcher frowned. “Uh, yeah.”

  “You have a conscience you wear on your arm?”

  She didn’t understand the man. A moral compass was expensive, used mostly by rich men who worked for the Corporation. He wore it, yet he was having sex when docking a ship? Obviously, the thing was broken. She peered at the ridiculously handsome man more closely.

  “Who are you? You don’t work for the Corporation, do you? Or the Great Family?”

  That was the last thing she needed.

  She’d operated under the Corporation’s and the Great Family’s radar by taking jobs that were legitimate, as much as she could, anyway. They’d left the Steel Coyote alone, although she always tried to stay one step ahead of them. Remy thought she had escaped notice during her time as captain. Perhaps she’d been wrong about that.

  Fletcher leaned toward her. “Of course not. I’m an independent pilot. Your man Cooper knew of me.”

  She shook her head. “Your reputation includes fucking women while you’re docking a ship? Not much of a recommendation in my opinion.” The image of this man with a woman flashed through her mind and she ruthlessly shoved it away. His looks couldn’t, and wouldn’t, sway her decision.

  He crossed his arms. “Do you need this job? Then you need me to pull this off.”

  She did, and the jackass knew it. Resentment burned in her gut. “I don’t know you, Fletcher, but I know I don’t like you. I don’t want you to fly my ship.”

  She’d had enough conversation. She walked away and did her best to ignore the man.

  Growing up, Remy’s temper had landed her in trouble enough times that she generally kept a tight hold on the reins. Something about Max Fletcher loosened her control and made her emotions bubble to the surface.

  This time, she didn’t care if she was sweaty and flushed. She walked with her arms swinging, anger fueling her speed. A few people tried to sell her their wares but she waved them off and concentrated on reaching the ship. Her stomach jumped and she had to swallow back bile at least twice. There was no time to be weak or let anxiety take over. Tomorrow, they would have cargo and money to buy fuel and supplies. She was tired of eating dried food she couldn’t identify. Pitiful as it was, she ached to eat a piece of real fruit.

  That all hinged on the fact Cooper thought she’d hired a pilot.

  Max Fletcher.

  He was still behind her. She could feel him and hear him greeting the people she’d walked past. Damn him.

  Much as she didn’t want to face it, the truth of it was, she was stuck. She needed him to get the cargo, and Cooper might want to see them take off together to seal the deal. She didn’t want to allow Fletcher to step foot on board but common sense told her that she was going to have to.

  When she finally reached her ship’s berth her anger had cooled. Foley sat on a metal crate, the ramp wide open. The old curmudgeon had been her father’s chief engineer. Now that his eyesight was failing, he did maintenance around the ship, keeping things oiled, tightened, and clean. The grizzled beard hid a gaunt face. Foley had lost a great deal of weight and Remy suspected he was sick. If only she could convince Foley to accept a healer’s touch.

  He wore the same navy-blue shirt and trousers he’d had for as long as she could remember. One day she might dare herself to check his quarters to see if he had dozens of the same outfit. Perched on what was left of his halo of frizzy white hair sat a black hat that had seen better days. A bullet hole graced one side and stains of unknown origin decorated most of it. A tiny blue earring was pinned in the center. She’d never asked him where it came from, but suspected it had been a woman from his past. In her twenty-one years, she’d never seen him with one, so perhaps this was the one who’d set him on the course of bachelorhood.

  “Well met, Cooper.” She sucked in a much-needed breath.

  “Well met, Captain.” Foley pointed his favorite knife at a spot behind her and squinted. “Who’s that?”

  Remy stopped and put her hands on her hips.

>   She didn’t have a choice and that was the bald truth. Pride was one of her biggest flaws, and it didn’t go down easy when she had to swallow it. But for her untraditional family, she would do what she needed to. She took a deep breath and accepted what the universe decided to throw in her path.

  “Our new pilot.”

  “Looks like a pretty boy to me.” Foley snorted. “The boy ain’t even got dirt under his nails.”

  “Well met, good sir.” Fletcher huffed a laugh. “I can see good hygiene is not of particular concern.”

  “Pretty boy.”

  “Old bastard.”

  “Shut up both of you.” Remy shook her head. “Foley, stop taunting him. Fletcher, stop being an asshole.”

  She turned to look at them posturing like a couple of bantam roosters they’d carried a few times in the cargo hold. Male creatures were foolish. And annoying.

  “I ain’t gonna like him. Doesn’t even carry a gun.” Foley used his knife to scrape at his filthy nails.

  “What makes you think I don’t have a gun?” Fletcher’s smile was a slash of white and not at all friendly. “I don’t like to wear a holster on my hip, but that doesn’t mean I’m not armed.”

  “Well met, Remy. Glad you’re back. Who is this?” Katie strolled up, hands in her pockets and a friendly smile on her face. “You picking up strays?”

  “Unfortunately, we have to. Katie, Foley, this is Max Fletcher.” Remy waved her hand in the general direction of the man. He opened his mouth to likely say something charming, but she cut him off. “I couldn’t get the job from Cooper unless Fletcher was at the helm. Apparently, my experience and reputation aren’t good enough.”

  “Well, that’s just stupid.” Katie frowned.

  “Cooper will be here at five. Let’s get the ship ready.” She waited while the three of them sized each other up. “Or I can fire all of you, sell the ship, and live the rest of my life with pretty boys feeding me hydroponic grapes.”

  “Fine, but I ain’t gonna like him.” Foley levered himself up out of the chair with a creak of his old bones. “I’ll inventory our supplies and get fresh water in the tanks. Make sure this one stays out of my way.”

  Katie shook her head. “Can’t wait to hear this story. In the meantime, I’ll make the engine ready and arrange for fuel to be delivered.” She raised her eyebrows at Remy. “This is going to be an interesting trip.”

  Once her engineer bounded back into the ship, Remy was alone with Fletcher again. She didn’t want him there, didn’t trust him. But she had to do what she must to save the Steel Coyote.

  “What do you want me to do?” His deep voice sizzled over her already tight nerves.

  “Stay out of my way.”

  Chapter Two

  Max wandered around the ship, finding what he’d expected to discover—the Steel Coyote was a tired ship. There were too many creaks and groans in the metal, sloppy welds, rusty bolts, and filthy corners. The galley and the bridge were the only two areas kept spotless.

  It told him the captain of the ship cared about the important things but had no money to do more than the bare minimum. She was desperate, and he’d inserted himself into her situation. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have gotten the job. At the same time, as he roamed the empty corridors, he couldn’t help but feel like an intruder. This was her ship, her sanctuary, her home.

  He was an interloper.

  He sniffed at the contents of the containers in the galley, surprised to find real coffee beans. They were hard to come by, even harder to afford.

  Captain Hawthorne had secrets. Her clothes were a bit ragged at the seams, she was desperate enough to make a deal with him, but she had coffee beans.

  What a puzzle she was. He couldn’t help but be intrigued, anxious to solve the mystery of what made her tick. And he wouldn’t mind a cup of real coffee. He’d had one a long time ago, when he turned eighteen and his less than idyllic life on the remote outpost of Haverty had ended. The hot, bitter brew had been the official start of life on his own, without the protection of those who had raised him. The taste of coffee reminded him of much, lost and gained.

  The rest of the food was rationed, tasteless bits not even hydration could add flavor to. This was what he expected, not the rare coffee beans. The water purifier had obviously been repaired dozens of times, with various cockeyed parts attached to it. He turned the spigot, pleased when clean water actually dribbled out.

  The ship was hanging on the edge of nowhere, on the edge of starvation, ready to fall into a slag heap. Yet the captain fought for it, for her motley tiny crew of three. That told him she loved the ship more than herself, more than anything, really. It spoke of her fierce loyalty and blind faith.

  It also told him she was far more dangerous than he suspected.

  Anyone who’d live on a boat like this, in poverty and scrabbling for her next meal, was a force to be reckoned with. Her life was this ship, and she had no room for anything but the bucket of rust.

  However, if he helped her keep this ship in the air and food in her belly, he might gain a boon. Or a bullet. She was a wild card. It wasn’t just her spectacular tits and amazing ass that drew him to her, or that she could sling back blue hooch like water. No, it was that intensity she wore like a cloak around her. He wanted to crack that shell, see what was under the cloak, figuratively and literally.

  “You are stepping out of bounds again.” Saint’s voice came from his shoulder.

  “I’m not taking anything. I’m just looking.” He closed the drawers he’d opened.

  “Your pulse tells me that is not the truth.”

  “I need to sell you. There’s got to be some soul out there you can save.” Max reached for the button to turn the Moral Compass off. “Mine sure as hell isn’t worth saving at this point.”

  “Did you enjoy poking around?” The redhead stood in the hatch, her arms folded. Not as tall as her boss, but seemingly equally as tough.

  “Well met, good lady.” He smiled. “I was admiring your ship and looking around my new home. Hawthorne gave me permission.” He leaned against the gasping water purifier and faced this new tiny adversary with his most winning smile.

  She raised one ginger brow. “Remy gave you permission?”

  Her name was Remy? It didn’t suit her. She looked more like a Regina or Athena. Something queenly or goddess-like. Remy was ordinary. His ship captain was not.

  His ship captain.

  The thought made him snort, earning another odd look from the pixie and a tut-tut from Saint.

  “You have a Moral Compass?” She peered at the hologram. “I’ve never seen one up close. Does it have a name?”

  Max frowned. “I call him Saint. He’s always preaching at me.”

  “Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do? Keep you moral and be your conscience?” She poked one finger through the center of Saint’s belly. The little man smiled at her. The traitor.

  “Yeah, well, after ten years I’ve become somewhat immune to him.” He didn’t mention Saint had been his companion, and he didn’t know that he would have survived without the hologram. He wasn’t a real man, but he was as close to a friend that Max had. “I much prefer the company of real people.”

  “I’ve heard of you, Max Fletcher.” Her gaze sharpened.

  “All good, I assume.” He didn’t want to have this conversation with her. “I think I’ll find a place to lay my head, if you don’t mind. The meeting at five will come early.”

  The redhead narrowed her gaze. “What are you after, Max?”

  “I needed a job and she needed help.” A half truth.

  She raised her brows. “Don’t get in the way of completing this job. We need it.”

  He let the comment pass without responding. What he’d done was for Remy, but he didn’t need to justify why. Or, really, examine why.

  “I won’t let you hurt her or endanger this ship.” After that proclamation, she smiled at the Moral Compass. “Well met, Saint.”

  Sa
int bowed. What the ever-loving hell was the hologram up to?

  Thankfully, the woman disappeared into the corridor and he let out a breath of relief. It was time he found the empty bunks again and made his nest for the night. He needed at least a few hours’ sleep before he faced the big son-of-a-bitch Cooper. Maybe in the morning, he might even get coffee.

  A man could dream, couldn’t he?

  “I like Miss Katie,” Saint offered.

  “Of course you do. Now shut up.” Max left the galley and headed back down into the crew’s quarters.

  After selecting the bunk with the least offensive stench, he stashed his things, laid his coat down, and fell into a fitful sleep. He dreamed of places and people he hadn’t seen in many years and woke sweaty and uneasy. A quick check of the antique pocket watch told him it was four thirty. Still half an hour before the meeting.

  “Are you all right?” Saint spoke from his perch.

  “No, but I never am.”

  Life had taught him many things, not the least of which was if he smiled and had an easy-going attitude, people wouldn’t look deeper. They wouldn’t see the shadows that dwelled within him. He’d lost everyone he cared about in his life, including his best friend. He’d learned to keep everyone at arm’s length. Max wasn’t a glutton for pain, and if he stayed numb, he wouldn’t be hurt.

  He finger combed his hair then found the latrine and did his best to wash up at a faucet that barely squeezed out half a dozen drops of metallic-smelling water. It would have to do.

  Ten minutes later, he made his way up to the bridge to find Remy. She stood with her feet braced apart, fists on her hips, watching figures scurry about in the shadows of the station’s dock. The light would come momentarily, illuminating that which preferred the darkness. Her spine was straight and seemed to be harder than steel. She was impressive, damn impressive.

  “Good morrow, Captain.”

  “I do the talking when Cooper gets here.” Her voice was whiskey rough. It ran down his skin, making him wonder what it would sound like in a bed, when he could properly show her what pleasure was. “You keep your mouth shut and look like a pilot.”