Chapter Sixteen
He’d seen militia groups with less armament.
Sean couldn’t hold back a grin at seeing Catherine’s reaction to the stockpile. While he knew the others had been armed he had no idea how much or what variety they kept hidden.
Sam seemed to share his thoughts if her shocked expression and widening eyes meant anything.
He retrieved his contribution to the pile and swung the shillelagh from side to side, getting used to the weight again. It usually sat in one corner of the receiving room, more a topic of conversation than coming into actual use.
His clients rarely gave him trouble.
Catherine walked around the table, taking stock. “You’re all insane,” she whispered.
Bianca giggled before being silenced by a look from Kendra.
The senior courtesan swept her hand over the pile. “You know Belle has access to tear gas and knockout gas to provide us with a safe working environment.” One edge of her mouth curved upward. “But sometimes the situation is such that we can’t call out to Belle, can’t ask her to help out. I’m sure you can imagine such scenarios.”
Catherine’s cheeks went scarlet.
“Of course,” she mumbled.
Sean lowered his head and forced a cough to hide his own reddening face. He had a pretty good idea of what she was thinking of.
“Of course. According to Guild rules we are allowed to keep weapons in our quarters and use them only in self-defense,” she said. “I think a bunch of bastards trying to board our ship and kill us qualifies.” She gave Catherine a wide grin. “I believe you’d like a shot or two at them as well, yes?”
Catherine smiled despite her obvious discomfort with the arsenal at hand. “You bet.”
“Remember what I told you,” April moved up beside her. “Think outside the box and you’ll do fine.” The courtesan looked at Sam and Kendra. “She’ll be fine.”
“Good,” Sam growled. “I’m not going to complain if you want to get into the fight, but choose your target carefully. It won’t mean shit if we all survive and you take a shot to the head. Keep that in mind.”
Harry slipped a pair of brass knuckles onto his right hand. “And here we are.” He took a practice swing. “Just like back home. One shot and down they go.” His eyes gleamed. “Max would love this. We’d get into street fights and he’d always come out on top, always had my back.”
“Okay.” Sam closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Give me a sec.”
Daniel crossed his arms.
She opened her eyes.
Sean saw the change in her attitude, in her demeanor. Gone was Sam Keller, Guild Captain and, as she’d said so many times, trained monkey who sat in the cockpit and did nothing.
Sam Keller, military veteran of the Hub, was here now. There was a coldness in her stare, a stiffness in her stance that declared no mercy.
“I’m not making any big speeches. You know what’s at stake and if you’re not going to do your best, step out in front of the enemy and be a meat shield for the rest of us.” She motioned Jenny forward. “You’ve got some tricks to set up before they can get to us, right?”
The mechanic nodded. “I’ll be setting up traps to try and take them down as soon as they enter.” She looked around the crew, her usual cheerfulness replaced by a strict professional attitude. “They’ll have to come in the hatch, as I said. But we’ll put up some barricades with the tables and chairs to try and keep them together. We don’t want them spreading out all over the room.”
Sam nodded. “This is how it’s going to be. Two lines of defense—ranged weapons in back, brawlers in front. Let them come to us.” She pointed toward the landing bay. “We’re going to keep on them hard, funnel them into a killing zone.”
Catherine made a noise, something between a cough and a chirp.
“Yes, killing.” The captain locked eyes with each crew member for a second before moving on. “This isn’t going to be pretty. It’s going to be damned bloody and dangerous and take no prisoners. Those men are going to have one goal.” She pointed at Catherine. “Taking her alive or dead. They want her body to take back to their employers to prove they’ve done the job right this time, no fucking up with life pods or accidental protectors. They’re not going to give us any breaks, so we don’t give them any. You don’t shoot to disable or cripple. You shoot to kill.”
Daniel stepped up beside her. “While I appreciate the—” he gestured at the stockpile, “—enthusiasm here I want to remind everyone to be careful about possibly puncturing the hull.”
He looked at Jenny, who gave him an approving nod.
“Don’t take a shot unless you have a target in your sights. The Belle’s a tough ship and we’ve got a damned thick skin but let’s not push her limits.” Daniel gestured at the assorted weapons. “I suggest you all go for what you’re most comfortable with and select a secondary in case you lose or break the first. Don’t pick up anything you don’t know how to use, we don’t have time to learn anything new.” He grinned. “And don’t forget to share, kids. You can take what’s yours but don’t discount borrowing from someone else if you need it. We can sort out who owns what at the end of all this.”
Catherine stood to one side as the courtesans circled the table, picking up various weapons and assessing them before either pocketing them or putting them back. Her look of disbelief was priceless as Bianca slid a tanto, a type of short sword, under her belt. April gave the petite courtesan a smile and a nod.
Sean hefted the club. He wasn’t used to brawling with anything else and barely managed to keep on the Guild’s good side when it came to self-defense qualifications. He wasn’t going to risk being more of a danger to himself and Catherine by picking up something he wasn’t comfortable with.
“That’s yours?” Catherine murmured as she moved closer, touching his left arm.
“Family heirloom. At least that’s what I was told.” He ran his fingers over the chipped, varnished wood. “Never did the research to see if it’s actually a historical item or something my grandfather picked up at a garage sale.” He gave a light swing, leaning over and aiming for an invisible ball. “Just like playing golf.” He gestured at the table. “Anything for you?”
“No.” She pulled her fingers into a fist. “I’m good at this, or at least April said so. Stick to my strengths. I’d be more a danger to myself or you with a weapon.” The smile was forced. “Besides, don’t want to smack you in the back with something. I need someone to duck behind.”
“Here.” Harry handed her another set of brass knuckles. “If you’re not going to carry a weapon, at least give your punches a bit more kick.” He looked at Sean for approval.
Sean nodded. “He’s right.”
Catherine slid the cool metal frame onto her fingers, turning it this way and that to catch the overhead lights. “I like it.”
Harry grinned. “Take a few swings and see how it feels.” As she moved away from them and swung at an invisible opponent he looked at Sean, head cocked to one side. “We good?”
Sean locked eyes with the rookie, letting him worry for a few seconds before responding. “We’re good.”
Daniel cleared his throat, halting the discussion.
“Okay, folks. Let’s start building those barricades. Jenny, get cracking on those traps. We’ve got a few hours before the final assault and I don’t want to be rushing around at the last minute.” Daniel walked to the hatch. “Time’s a-wasting.”
Catherine stayed back as the men and women filed out, led by Jenny, who twirled the monster wrench like a baton. Daniel brought up the rear, his hand already resting on the standard-issue UNS holster and the pistol it held.
Her grip increased on Sean’s arm, nails digging into bare skin.
“The odds aren’t good, are they?” she whispered.
He stayed silent, keeping his fears unspoken.
“These are professional killers. We’re just—” she fumbled for the words. “We’re just a bunch of amateurs compared to them.” She lifted her right hand to display the brass knuckles. “We’re not going to be much of a challenge.”
“Speak for yourself.” Sean shifted the shillelagh to his left hand. “We’ll give them a good fight.”
“But we won’t win, will we?” She looked at him, the cool executive assessing the situation. “We’re all going to die.”
He couldn’t lie to her. But the truth might destroy what resolve she had left.
“No.” Sam came up behind them, her defiant tone sending a shiver down Sean’s spine. “No one’s going to die. Not this time.” She spun around and stomped off through the hatch leading to her cockpit.
“What—” Catherine started.
“She’s got her own story,” Sean offered by way of explanation. “Don’t ask me, I don’t know. We might as well join the others.”
He turned toward the open hatch, her fingers still on his arm.
“Can we—”
Sean looked back to see her face flushed, her teeth tight on her lower lip. She slipped the brass knuckles off and stuffed them in her pocket.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” The words tumbled out as if she’d been holding them in for ages. “Maybe your cabin? I’m sure they’ll manage without us.”
“Maybe.” Sean looked upward. “Belle, how much of a warning will we have before an attack?”
“My sensors are at extreme range. A ship would take approximately six hours to reach us at maximum velocity.”
His heart skipped a beat or three as he led her back into the corridor and to his room. He wasn’t sure what this was all about but there was no better time to deal with it.
He placed the shillelagh on the receiving table. He’d have need of it soon enough and didn’t want it too far from his reach.
Catherine released his hand and crossed her arms in front of her, still chewing on her lower lip.
He turned to face her, waiting.
They stayed like that for a long minute, neither breaking the silence.
Finally Sean cleared his throat.
“I don’t mean to be rushing you but it’s possible we’re going to be fighting for our lives in a few hours. If you’ve got something to say—”
She silenced him with a hard kiss, lips pressing against his in a heated attack. His arms went around her instinctively, pulling her close against him.
His back slammed against the wall.
He didn’t care.
She deepened the kiss as one leg wedged between his, forcing them apart. One hand went to the back of his neck and held him in place as the other dipped down to cup him through his jeans.
It was a good day to die.
It was a hell of a good day to die.
He wrestled his mouth free, gasping for air as he pulled back to look at her.
“What’s this all about then?” he panted. “I thought—”
“I’m sorry,” Catherine said, the words tumbling out fast and furiously. “I wasn’t thinking when I yelled at you before. I was...” She shook her head. “I thought about Mike and how he made a fool of me. I put that onto you and I was wrong.”
“No, no. You were right to be upset with me.” He ran his hands along her arms, her shoulders, relishing every touch of her bare skin. “I was an ass. I reacted badly when Belle spoke.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” Catherine said. “She was doing what she’s been programmed to do and assumed I was a client.” She let out a ragged breath. “I won’t lie, I felt like you’d played me. Like—”
“Like the woman who took Mike. Flipped around and twisted and I get it. I deserved your anger. When I woke up I felt guilty and I reacted—”
“Guilty?” Catherine frowned. “For what?”
It was hard to swallow. “Sara.”
The confusion in her eyes faded to enlightenment. “Oh.”
“I just—” He couldn’t breathe. “I’d never felt like this with anyone, not since she died. It’s my job not to get emotionally involved but I never had a chance with you. You pulled me out of my exile, brought me back to life. Taught me I could love again.” The words spilled out, the mental dam breaking. “It was like breaking my marriage vows.”
“And now?” Catherine whispered. Her grip tightened on his hips.
“I had—” He stopped, his heart racing as he remembered Sara standing by the river.
What she’d told him.
He forced himself to continue. “I had a dream. About Sara.”
Catherine didn’t flinch at the confession. She nodded, encouraging him to continue.
“We were walking and talking and—” The pain in his chest started, vines curling around his heart and pulling tight.
Catherine stroked his cheek. “It’s okay. If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay.”
“No.” He beat down the ache, mentally wrapping it in a soft quilt and placing it in a drawer in his mind. “She told me I deserved to be happy.”
Catherine smiled. “I agree.”
“With you.”
There was no shock on her face, no condemnation of what most would consider a hallucination. “I still agree.”
He kept speaking, afraid she’d turn and walk out at any second. “I’m not crazy. I know she’s gone. I didn’t know I could have another chance at love, if I’d want to have one.” He pulled her snug against him. “And I want to be with you. Now. Before it’s too late. As a man, as Sean Harrison, field medic, actor and garbage man from Vegas Four.” He shook his head. “Not as that other man, the Mercy man. Not him.”
She didn’t protest. She didn’t do anything other than increase her hold on him through his jeans, dragging a moan from his throat.
He’d be damned if he didn’t return the favor.
With interest.
* * *
Catherine didn’t flinch when he walked her backwards, her feet shuffling along the floor until they backed into Sean’s personal bedroom.
It wasn’t anything like what she’d expected. Dark browns, lush green colors reminding her of a forest. Sean began tugging at her shirt, pulling it free of her jeans. She tried to keep up with him but failed when his hands worked the zipper down and slipped inside, fingers at the ready.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured into her ear. “Tell me what you need.”
Catherine swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She wasn’t used to being asked such questions. A moan escaped as his fingers began to work their magic, stroking and pressing against her with unerring accuracy.
“I need you.” She grabbed at his shirt and yanked it open, sending buttons flying everywhere. “I need you in me, around me, under me.”
“I think I can manage that,” Sean said as he worked on getting his own jeans open with his free hand.
“Let me.” Catherine moved his hand away and put both of hers to work unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.
His fingers slowed and fell out of rhythm as she pushed them down around his ankles and took hold of him again.
He bucked up into her touch with a groan. His feet shifted to toss the jeans and underwear to one side.
“More,” Catherine growled into his ear as she intensified her grip on him. “More.”His fingers shifted and slid.
“Bed.” Sean grunted as he spun around to fall back on the mattress, following so close that neither of them lost their rhythm.
“Yes.” Catherine wondered where she’d lost all her words. She moved over him, placing her hands on his shoulders to keep balance.
Parts of her mind continued to shut down as his fingers slid up and inside, seeking ou
t the perfect places. It was as if they’d been lovers for months, maybe years, instead of only a few days.
Sean’s hips bucked against her again, lifting them up off the mattress.
She gasped as his hands withdrew, moving up to take hold of her hips. He didn’t move, waiting for her to set the pace.
Catherine bit down again on her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.
So. Close.
She rose up off him just long enough to ready them both before settling down on him with a cry as he surged up into her.
Yes.
Chapter Seventeen
The ship’s alarm brought them both awake instantly. Sean glanced over at the clock.
Six hours.
It felt like days since he’d pulled Catherine down into his bed.
“Unidentified vehicle approaching.” Belle said. “They’re scanning us to try and find any vulnerability on the hull.”
Catherine rolled out of bed, searching for her clothing. “They’re here.”
“Not quite yet. We’ve got a good half hour if not more to prepare,” Sean said.
“Why didn’t the captain come get us?” Catherine fumbled with her clothing. “We were supposed to help set up the barricades.”
“Sam Keller’s a hopeless romantic. Probably the biggest one aboard.” Sean pushed the sheets to the bottom of the bed. “I’m sure our absence supplied the crew with a goodly amount of gossip while they worked. Not such a bad distraction.”
“Scan failed.” There was a note of pride in Belle’s voice. “They are slowing down and preparing for boarding.”
“They realized they can’t get through the hull,” Sean translated. “And the scan showed the magnetic trap Jenny set for them. No place for them to go but through the back door.”
“Why not fire more missiles at us?” Her voice trembled. “Just like before. We don’t have Etts to run interference anymore.”
“They don’t know we’re out of tricks.” Sean grabbed his briefs from the floor. “And they don’t want to take any more chances. Not to mention they’re probably pissed to the max about spending so much time and money in trying to kill you and not succeeding.” He snagged his jeans on the third try. “I’d wager they’re digging into their profit margin and not happy at all. The only way to be sure is to get on board and take you out.” He tried to keep his voice even. “And snag whatever benefits they can for taking a Mercy ship.”
In the Void Page 25