Hunted

by Theresa Beachman

  Heath scrubbed his hand across his face, repressing a curse. These were his friends. They weren’t doing this to piss him off. Much.

  “A relationship is the last thing I need right now.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “Who said anything about relationships?”

  Heath rolled his eyes. “Or anything in between.”

  Earning enough to pay for his mother’s care kept him busy. Besides while he’d learned he was skilled at smuggling goods across inter-planetary borders he was terrible at relationships. The one thing growing up with his violent father had taught him was to keep his true feelings hidden. Otherwise they got used against you. Heath thrived at being alone and he wasn’t about to change now.

  Angie angled a groomed eyebrow at him. “This isn’t necessary.”

  “It is.” Heath lifted his chin.

  “We can find another way to pay for Astrid’s care.” The silver glimmer in her eyes softened as she mentioned Heath’s mother’s name.

  He wished. “The money Buke is paying is more than I can earn in the next ten years if I go on making mickey mouse trips. She doesn’t have that long. What use is the money if she’s already dead by the time I make it?”

  “Buke’s the worst bad news out there.” Jack’s expression was grim, his eyes steely flints.

  “I’m aware of that.” Heath slugged back the xia and wiped his mouth. “She’s been through enough. I didn’t protect her when I was younger, but I can now and I will.”

  Angie laid a cool hand on his forearm. “Astrid wouldn’t want this if she knew what you were doing. She doesn’t blame you. You can’t change the past. You were only eleven…”

  Heath shrugged off her touch. His father had drunk himself into an early grave and wasn’t a threat anymore but Heath was still doing this. “You should go. This is between Buke and me. There was a reason I didn’t tell you about this meeting. I don’t want you getting involved, it’s too risky. This is something I have to do.”

  Jack widened his eyes at Angie. “He seems to think we’re not taking part—”

  Heath repressed a sigh. “I can pilot the Annie Mae alone. With the onboard AI systems, I can manage without an engineer or co-pilot.”

  “She might belong to you but the Annie Mae is our ship too, Heath. We fly her together or not at all.” Angie’s voice was firm. “Besides, your navigation skills are shit.”

  Goddamn. Heath rubbed the skin between his eyes, massaging the tender muscles underneath. He needed to get them out of here. “Angie, the dangers are—”

  “Heath Emerson.” A cultured voice. Commanding.

  Too late.

  Buke.

  3

  Heath’s pulse freewheeled to warp speed at Buke’s arrival. Was there even human blood running in the man’s veins?

  Buke’s perfectly coiffed silver hair gleamed under the lights. He leaned on a gold-topped cane, affecting age and fragility. But it was all a smokescreen. Buke was one of the most powerful traders in the known galaxies, and he hadn’t achieved that status by being delicate. Behind him, two heavies lurked, dark suits stretched and straining at the seams. Heath didn’t like the way Jack was sizing them up. It was that kind of look and the shit storms that followed that had led to Jack being ejected from the army several years ago.

  Buke stroked his neat beard as he gave the club a derisory glance. “Not my first choice of meeting place, but I suppose one needs to lower oneself to the level of the help occasionally.”

  Jack slid off his stool and straightened, his massive frame towering over Buke. The two bodyguards stepped closer.

  “We’re good.” Heath placed a restraining hand on Jack’s shoulder. The last thing he needed was this ending in a brawl.

  Buke quirked an eyebrow. “Do you have your staff under control? Because if not, I can leave…” He waved his cane at the club’s exit.

  Heath’s heart tripped. This was his way out, the job that would secure his mother’s future. “No.” He pressed down, easing Jack back into a sitting position. His jaw ached with suppressed tension as he spoke. “Everyone’s calm.”

  “What do you want?” Angie stalked toward Buke, her features set in an uncompromising glower.

  For the love of God. Heath scrubbed his face. “Angie—”

  Buke raised a placating hand. “Not everyone understands business as we do.” His lips drew back, exposing too-long teeth. He unscrewed the cap of his cane and removed a small black chip that he handed to Angie.

  Angie took the chip in her hand. Her knuckles strained, blanching, and her eyes fluttered shut as information flowed from the chip to her brain. She spoke in a monotone without opening her eyes. “Credits are in suspension. When the arrangement is fulfilled, they’ll be paid into the Annie Mae’s business account. Failure to complete will result in a cessation of all medical care to your mother, seizure of the Annie Mae…”

  Heath swallowed. The Annie Mae was his baby. Aging, but his. The one constant in his life. Losing her wasn’t an option.

  Angie continued. “And a record of Annie Mae’s flight patterns for the past five years will be released to the Galactic Authorities.”

  Gods. The last five years were a deep hole of smuggling and under the table deals to pay the never-ending hospital bills.

  “Enough to put you in jail until everyone has forgotten you ever existed,” Buke added, a jolly grin stretching his mouth wide.

  Jack was pacing. “We work as a team. Not alone.”

  Angie’s eyes opened, flaring azure blue as she returned the chip. Buke might not have seen her wipe her hand on her thigh, but Heath did. Maybe the Angie he’d grown up with was still inside somewhere.

  She widened her eyes at Heath. “I agree with Jack. We work as a team or not at all.”

  Heath ground his teeth. Angie’s will was as unbendable as the metallic glint in her eyes suggested.

  Jack grabbed Heath by the arm. “A word in your ear.” He steered Heath, turning their backs on Buke. “Friends don’t leave friends to deal with this kind of crap on their own,” Jack muttered. “I don’t trust him. He’s a slimy bastard.”

  Heath suppressed a surge of anger and forced his voice to remain calm. “You think I don’t know that?” He shook his head. “The money’s too good and I need it now.”

  Jack sighed. “Fine. But you’re not doing it alone. That’s final.”

  Heath took a breath. Jack and Angie weren’t going to cave. But he could still keep them safe. He focussed on Buke. “If we fail to deliver, only my name will be released to the Galactic Authorities.”

  Jack folded his arms in abrupt agitation and his gaze cut to Angie. One shoulder lifted indicating her agreement. Jack grunted and stared at the floor his eyebrows knotted.

  Result.

  Buke tipped his head in silent compliance. “The more the merrier.” Buke clapped his hands and the larger of the two heavies, stepped forward with a suitcase. Buke ran his hand over the surface with obvious pleasure. “Some details I don’t entrust to digital format. Too accessible.” He studied Angie. “Ironic that as technology advances one becomes even more reliant on archaic methods. All the information on the cargo you require is here.”

  Heath accepted the heavy case.

  “You’re being paid handsomely.” Buke took a step forward, close enough that the pungent spice of his aftershave engulfed Heath. It smelled expensive, with undertones of greed. “But I just want to remind you how important it is that this delivery arrives intact.”

  “Understood.” Heath fought to keep his tone level. “Destination?” His knuckles itched to plant themselves in the middle of Buke’s nose. He visualized cartilage and bone succumbing to his punch. The explosion of hot blood—

  “Resu.”

  “Hell.” A fresh scowl appeared on Angie’s face.

  Jack gave Heath a black look. “Resu’s a game reserve for the rich. Security is above and beyond. The average client is an interplanetary billionaire.”

  Buke’s face twisted in
to an indulgent smile and he shrugged. “The delivery point is the capital city, Ixoth.” He tapped his cane on the floor and tipped his head at Angie. “We leave tomorrow, with or without your crew.” His mouth twisted as he stroked his mustache, then he turned and left, his bodyguards flanking him as they headed for the club exit. Dancers shimmied behind the three men, obscuring them from view in a few seconds.

  Heath pressed his shoulders down from where they’d been inching up to his ears. Everything about Buke needled under his skin but the risk was worth it. With this money, his mother’s remaining time would be comfortable.

  Angie shot him a glance. “There must be another way?”

  “No.” He was done talking. He stood up and threw a credit on the bar. “I need to prep the Annie Mae. Don’t stay up too late.”

  Angie looked across him at Jack.

  Heath knew that look. Quiet determination. “What?”

  Jack grunted. “Damn, I was so getting lucky tonight…”

  “We’re doing the prep with you.” Angie spun on her heel and beckoned for the two men to follow.

  Jack gave the dance floor a wistful once over. “How can she be such a grumpy bitch but I still do everything she says?” He tugged his cap lower over his eyes and slapped Heath on the back. “This is what friends do, right?”

  Right. Heath followed. Now more than ever, he had to make this work.

  4

  Isa drove, steering the hovercar in no particular direction, allowing the built-in AI systems to pilot her safely through junctions and turns when her vision hazed with tears. She’d known long ago her marriage was over; she’d just been too damn scared to do anything about it, and there were no more tears left to cry. Her nose was running, and she wiped it with the back of her hand, sniffing as she glanced at the white pillow on the passenger seat. Could perhaps have done without finding out on the same day she lost her job…

  Mike had taken her into the office at lunchtime. He’d sat her in front of his crappy desk before he scuttled to the other side and wedged himself safely behind the tripartite computer workstation, as if the sheer volume of technology could protect him from her wrath as he made her position redundant.

  She had focused on the booby calendar that hung at a crooked angle above his head. Humankind had crossed to the far reaches of the galaxy, but some things never changed. They’d removed the ones in the main workshop next to the hydraulic clamps they used to service hovercars, but this one remained. She stared at the ridiculous inflated breasts while Mike made some halting speech about business being poor, last in first out. Blah, blah, blah. Heard it so many times before. She’d stared out the dingy office window, watching the remaining team of three male hover mechanics. Business was bad because his team was slow. Then he’d shaken her hand and promised to give her a reference and that had been it.

  She tightened her hands on the steering controls, with no idea where she was going or what the hell she was going to do. What was she supposed to do when her entire life crashed down around her ears in one afternoon?

  With no plan, she headed out the city onto clean countryside roads that swooped and dived through the fall scenery. Tall hedges flanked her on each side, cocooning her in a flickering world far from Karl and his cheating ass and sloth-like co-workers who still had their jobs.

  Slowly, the hedged road gave way to exposed moorland, and she was driving up and into the silver and green heart of Dartmoor. The road stretched empty and silent ahead of her like a tarnished ribbon. She was completely alone.

  She glanced at the tempting wide-open moor that surrounded her. Off-road driving was strictly forbidden. Too many people had died when hover vehicles had first hit the market. She chewed on her lip. Isa was a rules girl, always had been.

  Fuck it. It was one of her few job perks.

  She pulled over and expertly disengaged the legal controls that restricted the hovercar to road only, before restarting the vehicle and swinging out over open moorland. She blasted over mossy gray boulders, tilting the car to accelerate sideways across aged wiry fencing, jagged tors rising in the distance like the mountains of a faraway planet. Purple heather surrounded her on all sides, tinged violet by the setting evening sun, the honeyed scent filling her lungs and cleansing the mess of the day from her mind.

  Eventually, she brought her hovercar to a stop and killed the engine. She sat listening to the tick of hot metal cooling and the cry of the curlews above her head. No other vehicles passed. It was just her and the moor.

  Her shoulders sagged and her head drooped as the exhilaration of the drive wore off and reality reasserted itself.

  How had it come to this? She covered her eyes with her hands, waiting for the sobs. But there were none. Her marriage had been on the decline since the day they got back from their honeymoon and Karl had ditched his bags and headed out for a beer because he’d missed the boys, leaving her to unpack the dirty laundry. Her only regret was that she hadn’t walked at that very moment and left him to come back and wash his own underwear. A misguided sense of loyalty had kept her wedded to him, born of a desperate need to make her relationship work when her parents had made such an almighty mess of things. She fished her phone out of her back pocket and punched in her best friend Andrea’s number.

  It rang once before Andrea picked up. “Isa, where are you? Karl’s going ape. He’s been banging on my door demanding to speak to you. I only got him to leave by telling him I would call the police.”

  Isa hesitated. Why was this so difficult?

  Andrea continued, indignation coloring her voice. “You will leave him, won’t you? You can do this on your own. I’ve told you this so many times.”

  “Yes…yes. I just don’t know where to start. Everything is such a complicated mess. The house. Money. My job.” God. What job? Where did she even begin? “I lost my job today as well.” She grabbed a fistful of hair. Her scalp was sensitive, almost painful to touch.

  She got out the car and walked round to sit on the hood. Heat from the engine warmed her backside. “Can I—”

  “Of course.” Andrea gave a dry laugh. “You don’t even have to ask. You know that.”

  The concern in Andrea’s voice made Isa’s throat thicken. Shit. She swallowed, hearing the click of her throat muscles. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  “I’ll put the tequila in the freezer. The kids are already asleep and Mark’s on the night shift.”

  “Thanks, Andrea.”

  “Be safe. See you soon.” The screen went blank as Andrea hung up.

  Isa leaned back against the windscreen. She inhaled, savoring the clean scent of grass, as soothing silence wrapped around her like silk. The evening was deepening from pink to purple and stars were appearing, more visible in the unlit depths of the moor.

  Strings of regular blue lights tracked between the diamond pinpricks. Star liners. Carrying voyagers to far-flung corners of the galaxy and beyond. She had wanted to be a starship engineer. Had the qualifications, but Karl had vetoed the idea. He didn’t want his wife traveling to unexplored planets.

  She tilted her head back to get a better view. What had she missed? She would be thirty-five on her next birthday and she’d never left Earth. Karl wouldn’t hear of it. Unnatural, he’d said years ago as they watched the first intergalactic starships launch into deep space from the safety of their living room. They’d been headed for the Ellipsis—the then furthermost known reach of the Milky Way galaxy. Isa hadn’t even been on a boat since they got married because Karl couldn’t swim.

  A shooting star blazed across the sky right in front of her in a platinum streak. Whoa. She blinked and it disappeared, hidden from view behind the slope of hills to the west.

  Isa rubbed her shoulders. Enough moping, she would freeze if she stayed out here any longer. She ducked back inside the car and pulled a sweater over her overalls. She pressed the ignition, waiting for the hiss of the remote seatbelt.

  The vehicle remained silent and shadowed.

  She
thumbed the button several times, but the engine was dead.

  Isa banged her forehead against the steering controls and vented a scream of frustration.

  Seriously?

  She got out of the car, slammed the door, and kicked it, stubbing her toe. Jagged agony rocketed up her shin. Isa grabbed her leg and hopped, her eyes squeezed tight. Shit, shit, shit. She dropped her leg. Bunching her fists at her sides, her arms ramrod straight she screamed at the silent night sky. “I have a fuck ton going on right now. I don’t need this.”

  The stars winked back. Silent. There was no message from the Gods.

  Isa clamped her jaw as she unlatched the hood and bent over the engine, pen flashlight between her teeth. Her hands ran in practiced movements over greasy components, her lips moving in a silent checklist. Everything was in order. This didn’t make any sense, there was nothing wrong.

  She scooted back into the driver's seat. The engine was still dead. Isa twisted forward out the car, driving her hands through her hair, not caring about the oil that smeared her fingers. Not a single car had gone past since she got here. Could her day get any worse?

  She swiped her phone open. It bleeped, flashed an empty battery symbol, and turned itself off.

  And Dartmoor? It was an abyss of modern life. No houses, no shops. Just miles and miles of granite, heather, and gnarly looking sheep.

  Fine. Isa resisted the urge to inflict physical damage on the hovercar. She had legs. She’d walk.

  Except… which way? She wasn’t even on the road. She was knee-deep in bushes and the ground underfoot was wet and boggy.

  Isa pressed her lips together to contain all the expletives scorching her throat and silently pulled her thin coat from the car and shrugged it on in a feeble attempt to block the increasingly cooler air. She stuffed her excuse for a phone in her pocket and grabbed her purse.

  Light brightened the dim interior of the vehicle from the opposite side, from the direction of the shooting star. It was getting brighter. And heading toward her. Another hovercar having some illicit off-road fun?