by Lolita Lopez
“I do.” She took a glass jar from a shelf and poured water from a pitcher into it. “Straight from our well,” she said as he handed it to him. “It’s clean. Daddy was very careful about where he drilled. It’s one of the reasons he built so high up the mountain. He wanted us clear of all the pollution from the mines.”
“You’ve lived here your entire life?” He sipped the surprisingly cold water and enjoyed the taste of it. “This is good.”
“I was born in that bedroom back there.” She waved her hand behind her. “My mother died when I was six, and I spent the rest of my time following Daddy around the mountain and the mines.”
“You were working in the mines as a child?” His protective instincts flared to life. He couldn’t imagine allowing his daughter to climb through dirty tunnels and breathe in the dangerous dust kicked up by the constant chipping and digging.
“Your people send little boys to war at the same age,” she countered with a shrug. “Life is hard for some of us.”
“We go to the academy. It’s a school. We’re educated and trained. It’s different than working in a mine.”
“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t go to school.”
It wasn’t the first time he had met a woman from this planet who had never seen the inside of a classroom. To his mind, it was a complete waste of resources on a planet where sharp minds were desperately needed. How many girls denied the right to an education would have accomplished great things if they had only been born somewhere else?
“So, they told me that you want to see some maps of the Drowning Door?”
He frowned. “Drowning Door?”
“The mine used to be called Pit Seventeen, but after the accident, it got another name.” She walked to the far wall of the cabin where someone had built a tall, wide cabinet with row after row of small but deep cubicles. The grid held dozens of maps, and she plucked the correct one and brought it back to the table. “The mine was bought out by some scumbag from The City who thought he knew better than the colliers.”
“Colliers?” He slid onto the long bench opposite her at the table.
“Miners who belong to families that have been here since the first mines opened hundreds of years ago,” she explained and moved two of the lanterns closer for better viewing. “They’re experts.”
“And what did the experts tell the scumbag?”
“That he was playing with fire,” she said sadly. Rolling out the maps, she slid her pale hands across the yellowed layers of paper. “This mine was in three sections at the time but the accident happened down in the deepest part. The ventilation wasn’t adequate, and the gases built up until a spark caused a horrific explosion. The owner had been warned about the gases and that there was water behind this wall here.” She tapped a spot at the bottom of the map. “The explosion blew a hole in the rock, and the water gushed up and out and flooded the lower level. The workers on the top level dropped the emergency gate—a solid metal door—and sealed the water and most of their fellow miners behind it. Two hundred and seven miners died.” She paused, and he glanced at her face, losing himself in the glow and flicker of the lamp on her skin. “My mother was one of them.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, genuinely sympathetic to her loss. “That must have been very hard for you.”
“Harder for Daddy,” she admitted. “I was so little I didn’t really understand what had happened, and I still had my father so I wasn’t alone. But, Daddy, on the other hand...” She shook her head. “He was all alone with a little girl he had no idea how to raise.”
“And that’s how you ended up in the mines with him?”
“Yes. He couldn’t leave me here, and he didn’t trust anyone to watch me.” She eyed the window of the cabin with mistrust. “These woods aren’t safe for anyone. Haven’t been for a long time.” Her gaze flicked to his. “The moonshiners and their stills bring all sorts of lowlifes up here, but it’s the skin traders hiding out in the woods who are the most dangerous.”
“Skin traders? Out here?” All intel he had seen claimed the sex traffickers operated mainly in The City.
“They move their victims through the old passes up to the flattops,” she explained. “You can see the lights from the ships at night. I guess it’s easier to land them up there where it’s flat.” She shrugged. “They mainly steal girls from the farms down in the valley. They say the farm girls fetch higher prices. They’re healthier.”
Cipher’s stomach soured at the thought of young girls being ripped from their families and sold into sexual slavery in the far wilds of the galaxy. He had the same feeling when he watched the Grabs. Seeing his fellow soldiers and airmen chasing down terrified women, snatching them up and locking collars around their necks twisted his gut. As far as he was concerned, the sooner the old traditions died, the better.
“Anyway,” she said with a little sigh and moved aside the top layer of the maps. “This is the most detailed map I have of the first level where they’re holding your man.”
“How recent is this?”
“Two years,” she said, tapping the date scrawled in the lower corner. “It was my father’s last job. He was hired to go in and lay some precision explosives to backfill the lower levels and make the top level safe for use.”
“Your father worked for the Splinters?” His hackles raised at the idea that he was working with the enemy now.
“No, it was some bigwig out of The City. He came up to Black Pit Number Six where we were working and convinced the boss to loan out Daddy for the job. We went, did the work and left. Later, we found out the Drowning Door had been taken over by new management, so to speak.”
“Do they know you have these maps?”
“They might. Daddy gave them his originals, but he always made a copy for himself.”
He studied the map in front of him. It was useful but limited. He needed to know the proper layout of the mine to plan their attack. “Is there any way to get an updated, more detailed layout of this top level?”
“Don’t you have scanners that can see deep inside the ground?”
Their advanced technology was no secret. “We do, but the Splinters have sensors all around the mine. They’ll know if we use it. We need more recent intel, but we’ll have to get it the low tech way.”
She hesitated and dragged her lush lower lip under her top teeth. The sight inspired wild thoughts that he quickly shoved aside. “There is a way.”
“But?” He sensed she was less than enthusiastic.
“I could go into one of the ventilation shafts to get into the air flow ducts here,” she reluctantly suggested. “The metal ducts run above the reinforced ceilings. They house the lines for the fire suppression system and also carry cool air when the pumps are working. They’re a tight fit for a grown man, but I’m small enough to get through them. I should be able to see into each area of the top level through the air flow registers.”
Cipher hated the idea. It was very risky, and if she were seen or heard, Terror’s captors would know an attack was imminent and either move or kill him.
“I know,” she said quietly, as if sharing his thoughts. “It’s dangerous.”
“Very,” he agreed.
“But it’s the only way to get the information you need, sir.”
Sir. His eyes closed briefly and wondered how the hell he was going to get through the rest of this meeting if she kept calling him that.
“If you expect me to lay explosives before the mission to free your man, a ventilation shaft will be my only way inside,” she reasoned. “It might be better if I get in there and make sure the shaft and ducts are clear. It would be a disaster if I find out too late that I can’t get my explosives where they need to be.”
He quashed the immediate urge to reject her suggestion. His intense and unexpected attraction to her clouded his thoughts. She’s not yours. She’s an asset. Use her.
That was the problem. He wanted to use her assets but not in any way that the Shadow Force or his superiors
would approve. He wanted to tie her up, take her back with him and keep her safe in his quarters. He wanted to hold her on his lap and comb his fingers through her dark hair while plundering her mouth. He wanted to hear her call him sir while begging him to let her come.
The loudest stomach growl he had ever heard interrupted his filthy thoughts. Across from him, Brook glanced down with embarrassment. “Sorry, I didn’t have dinner tonight.”
He frowned. “If you need to cook, don’t let me keep you from eating.”
Not even the dim light of the lamps could hide the deepening flush of embarrassment on her face. “There’s nothing to eat.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I ran out of scrip two days ago.”
“What is scrip?”
“It’s the payment we get for working in the mines. You can only spend it at the company store. The prices are outrageous, but we can’t get supplies anywhere else on the mountain. I wasn’t able to catch any fish this morning, and my traps were empty.” She shrugged as if it were a common occurrence. “Just a few days of bad luck, but I’m sure tomorrow will be better.”
Unwilling to let her starve even a minute longer, he reached for his pack and unzipped the long pouch on the side. He pulled out the emergency rations and piled them on the table. “This is enough food to last someone your size at least two weeks. You rehydrate them with water. That’s all you need.” He grabbed another handful of supplies from the pouch. “These packets are drinks. You pour them into a large glass of water. They’re flavored like fruit, and they provide vitamins and electrolytes and other things you need.”
She tried to push it back toward him. “I can’t take your food.”
He placed his hands over hers, feeling the soft heat of her under his fingers. He fought the strong desire to stroke her skin. “I’ll refill my pack when I get back to my ship. You need these.”
She hesitated before finally nodding. “Thank you, sir.”
"You’re welcome, Brook.” At the sound of his deep, husky reply, she lowered her gaze. It was a naturally submissive pose that inflamed his alpha instincts and set his body on fire. Want. Need. Take.
She stood up to make herself a meal, and it broke the spell. She rummaged around behind him and returned to the table with utensils, a bowl, another glass jar and the pitcher of water. Taking her seat, she asked excitedly, “Which should I try first?”
Amused by her enthusiasm for rations, he picked through them until he found the one he wanted. “This is my favorite.”
As he handed it over, their fingers touched, and her eyes shot to his, widening briefly as if she felt the same spark. She took the packet and set about making her first ration meal. When it started to bubble in the bowl, she almost bounced in her seat. “This is amazing!”
Had he ever been so pure? Even after everything life had done to beat her down, she seemed to embrace new and interesting experiences. Compared to her, he was a bitter asshole—and he didn’t like that realization.
“It’s a chemical reaction.”
“I know,” she murmured, her eyes fixed on the bowl. “I’ve just never seen it with food.”
“But you’ve seen it in the mines?”
“Some of the sprays used to clean the ore and prep the walls for explosives bubble.” She poked at the hot reconstituted dish of protein and vegetables in a tangy sauce. She brought her finger to her mouth and tentatively flicked her tongue at it. “Oh! This is delicious!”
She’s going to kill me. If he saw her tongue one more time, he was going to lose it. His misbehaving cock was already pressing uncomfortably against the fly of his tactical pants. He shifted carefully and hoped she hadn’t noticed as she was busy emptying the drink packet into her jar of water. She seemed disappointed when it didn’t bubble or steam.
“Stir it,” he recommended. “It makes it more palatable.”
She followed his direction and noisily clanged the spoon against the sides of the glass. She glanced at him as if to silently ask if she had stirred enough, and he nodded. Before he could warn her about the taste, she grabbed the glass and took a long drink. A moment later, she put the glass down and made a terrible face while reluctantly swallowing. “It’s awful!”
“It’s an acquired taste.”
“I’ve tasted heads and tails that were better than this!” She pushed the offensive glass away from her.
“What are heads and tails?”
“Moonshine,” she explained, picking up her fork and diving into her dinner. “There are four different phases that come out of the still. The foreshots are poison. The heads smell gross and taste terrible. The hearts are the good stuff. Then comes the tails which is bitter and sharp.”
“I had no idea moonshine was so complicated.”
“It’s complicated and dangerous.” She seemed as if she wanted to shovel the food right into her mouth, but she eyed him before neatly taking a small bite.
“Like explosives,” he remarked, looking away from her and back to the maps. “You’re comfortable with them?”
“It’s all I know. I was laying line with Daddy by the time I was seven. I started measuring out the powders and grains at eight. When I was ten, he taught me how to make the pastes and pack the tubes. The math came next. Figuring out what kind and how much explosive to use and where to place it to get the result you need.” She gestured to a leather journal on the table. “My notes if you want to see them.”
Needing to see if she was capable of the work that might need to be done, he opened the journal and thumbed through the pages. Despite her lack of formal education, Brook understood chemistry, math and physics. Her calculations were neat and clean. Her drawings were detailed. From the first job to the most recent in the journal, she showed a knack for numbers and chemicals.
“You’re very good at this,” he remarked, still turning pages. “If you were allowed to go to school, you could have been an engineer.”
She snorted. “Mountain girls don’t become engineers. They mine until their daddies marry them off and then they make babies and keep a home. That’s it. That’s the life.”
“You’re not married,” he pointed out and closed the journal.
“Are you?” She didn’t even try to hide her curiosity about his status. “Or Grabbed? What do you call it?”
“Mated,” he said, clearing his throat. “Some of the men on my ship have chosen to follow your ways, though. They’ve had marriage ceremonies after a successful Grab.”
“The fixer who hired me for this job gave me a choice,” she confessed, seemingly desperate to talk about her options.
“Oh?”
“I can either take a pile of credits and a transport ship to the colonies with all the papers and permits I’ll need.”
“Or?”
“Or I can let one of you take me as a mate.”
He swallowed hard at the thought of her wearing a collar and kneeling at his feet. The thought turned ugly when he thought of another man claiming her. A jealous flare burned his belly as he imagined another man seeing her smile when he came home or listening to her moan and whimper while she writhed beneath him in their bed. That jealousy soured to fear for her when he considered some of the men who might take her. She was so sweet and gentle, and the wrong man would break her and ruin everything special about her.
“You should go to the colonies,” he said gruffly. “Take the money and run.”
She frowned. “You don’t think I would be a good mate.”
He thought she would be a wonderful mate, but refused to say it aloud. Instead, he grunted. “You couldn’t handle a man like me.”
“Oh.” Her reply was soft and small. “I see.”
She didn’t, but he wasn’t about to explain what he meant. She would be safer far away from this mountain and the men on his ship.
“Go to the colonies and get work as an apprentice. You’ll make a good life for yourself there. You can make your own choices for once.”
Her expression serious, she nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Her obedient reply sent another wave of need through him. He wavered for a heartbeat, wondering if she wouldn’t be safer with him. Safer, maybe, he allowed, but she had her entire life ahead of her and should be allowed to make her own decisions without the pressure of men like him.
“Tell me about the mine.” He brought their meeting back on track. “What are all these different areas?”
“Ventilation shafts. Backfill access. Drilling platforms. Ore shaft. Ore removal. These lower levels are all blocked off by the earlier flooding and the blast Daddy arranged to make it safe for use.” Her finger pointed out the various places she described before sliding to the top of the map. “There are access points to the ventilation shafts here. They’re small and covered with grates, but I can wiggle into and out of them.”
He didn’t like the idea of her dangling by a rope or dragging herself out at the end of her excursion. Too much could go wrong, but if the dimensions on the map were correct, she was the only person he could imagine being small enough to fit through the shafts.
“Can you get into them tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
He reached for his pack and withdrew the communication device he had brought with him. He showed her how to power on the unit, find the satellite signal and contact the Shadow Force unit on his ship. “You will contact us before you go into the mine and when you make it back to the cabin.”
“Yes, sir.”
He handed her another device. “This camera will capture images.”
“How?” She turned it over in her hands, marveling at the small size and thinness. “This tiny thing is really a camera?”
“It is.” He held it up and snapped a photo of her curious face. He showed her the screen on the back. “See?”
“Oh, this is fantastic!” She happily examined the device and the image he had captured of her. “How do I get the images off this and up to you?”
He taught her how to upload images to the communication console and send them to the Shadow Force unit. He made her practice using her own photo. Torment had asked him to get identification of the asset, and this was an easy way to do it.
