Havoc

by Linda Gayle

  “I still can’t believe it. D’Parr paid out Keeva’s contract, but not mine. My share of tonight’s haul would’ve been… Well, it would’ve been a lot, let me tell you. Doubt Keeva knew it, or she would’ve told me.”

  “At least it was enough to buy out your obligation,” Elion said sensibly. “Canto wouldn’t have let you go without a fight.”

  “Nah. It’s Keeva they came to see. I’m just her costar.” His words were starting to slur as he was on his fifth shot of hool. Three put most people under the table. The man could hold his liquor, she’d give him that. He stared down mournfully into the blue liquid. “Keeva… I tried to stop her, El. She wouldn’t listen, just got on that liner with D’Parr.” His eyebrows scrunched down. “D’Parr of all beings. Scraggin’ lowlien.”

  “I know, I know.” Elion pushed his glass around with one finger, not drinking. “She’s stubborn. It’s her way. Money’s always been her thing. What can you offer that the Zone can’t?”

  Kels shot him a spiteful glance. “Money. What’s money compared to love?”

  Elion smiled drily. “Keeva? Love? Those words don’t belong in the same sentence. It’s always been all about Keev, right from the beginning. Remember, that’s why you dumped her.”

  “Yeah, she didn’t realize it was really all about me.” Kels’s sloppy smile sloped up at one side. Then he sobered, or at least his expression did. “I can change. I can be a different man. The kind of man she wants.”

  “Rich?”

  “Maybe.” He pointed a finger at his friend. “We get the Nova back, book a few runs through the Pegasus trade routes. We’ll be right where we left off, maybe even better.”

  “By then she’ll have tapped into some wealthy warlord and be living like a queen. Give it up, Kels.”

  “Fuck you,” Kels mumbled amiably. “Why’d you have to be so honest? You’re always so fucking honest.”

  Elion laughed quietly and downed his drink. He had a sweet face compared to Kels’s dark one. When they rose to leave, Kels stumbling, Elion with a steadying arm around his waist, Sayal stood too and shadowed them as they strolled toward the rental cubes.

  They stopped in front of the door she knew led to Kels’s cheap hovel. Kels threw back his shoulders and twirled a hand in the air. “Well, mate, we’re back to square one. Broke, burgled, and…something else that starts with B. Buggered.”

  Elion grinned and patted Kels’s shoulder. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll put our heads together and come up with plan C. Or is it plan W? I’ve lost track.”

  Kels threw his arms around Elion and thumped his back drunkenly. “Love ya, mate. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Only Sayal could see the pain that flickered across Elion’s face as he closed his eyes and held his captain. Kels, of course, swaying out of the embrace, was too potted to notice anything except how elusive the door lock was proving to be. Elion took the keycard from him, passed it over the sensor, and gave Kels a gentle push inside. “Good night, Kels.”

  His back to him, Kels waggled his fingers, then disappeared from view as the opening slid shut.

  Elion leaned a hand against the door before he shook his head and went off toward his own room. Tucked in an alcove, Sayal waited until he was well out of sight before she went to Kels’s door.

  She pressed her ear against the cold steel. Silence. The apartment, she knew, would be small. The sleeping chamber would be in the rear, through a combination sitting and dining area. Once she was inside, she would need to be quick and decisive.

  Taking a deep breath, she plucked the omnikey from her belt and passed it over the sensor. The door whispered open, and she slipped inside.

  And nearly stumbled over the prone form of Captain Havoc. Flat out, facedown, he clearly hadn’t taken two steps before he’d thudded to the floor, too inebriated to even make it to bed.

  A rumbling snore shook his body. Sayal put her hands on her hips and sighed. Truly, this was the man to whom Fate had led her? Perhaps she was wrong about him, wrong about everything.

  She crouched beside him and, with great effort, for he was a large man, managed to get him over onto his back. His arm flopped limply to the side. His head wobbled. Even when she tapped his cheek, he continued to snore.

  She’d hoped not to have to make a connection until he’d agreed to her offer, but there seemed to be little choice. Placing her hand on his forehead, Sayal cleared her mind and let it fill with his energy. In her mind’s eye, his life force appeared like a glowing, whirling ball. She held it for a moment while her own life energy flowed into his body, purging it of hool toxins. At least for the most part. With a rush of breath, she mentally pushed the life force back into him, then sat back on her heels.

  The room spun slightly, as it always did after such an effort. She had not the gifts of her mother, but they served her when necessary. After only a moment or two, Kels snorted, moaned, and then dragged his hands over his face. He blinked up at the ceiling. Then he saw her and startled onto his elbows.

  “Who the fu—”

  She held up a hand. “Captain Havoc. My name is not important at the moment. I have business to discuss.”

  He bolted upright, remarkably recovered and bristling with a dangerous energy she hadn’t anticipated. His eyes trained on her like twin laser beams. “I said, who the fuck are you, and how did you get in here? And what am I doing on the floor?”

  He was as angry as a bastion tiger and every bit as intimidating. Sayal’s fingers twitched toward her weapon while her heart raced. “I mean you no harm. I followed you inside and found you unconscious. You were drunk, Captain.”

  “Yeah?” His piercing gaze flicked from her. “Yeah, I was.” He turned back to her, the force of his glare nearly knocking her over. He jabbed a finger toward her, a bad and impolite habit. “Why am I not drunk now? And I’m not going to ask you again, who the fuck are you?”

  She liked him better with the hool mellowing his temper. Sayal swallowed hard and drifted her fingers to the hasp of her blade. Before she could blink, he seized her wrist and threw her onto her back. The knife came up with her hand, clutched in her fist, which he pinned beside her head. Kels’s shin weighted her hips; his other hand pressed her shoulder into the hard floor. His tight, angry face loomed over her, his eyes steely and cold. Sayal’s mouth went dry.

  “This isn’t what you’re thinking,” she gasped.

  “I’m thinking,” he said slowly, his narrowed gaze sliding over her black bodysuit, which showed only her face and hands, “that somebody decided to settle up an old score.” He stared at her, leaning his weight on her so that her breath came short. “Who? Ulvic? Ferrus?” His grip tightened on her wrist until she thought her bones would snap. “It’s D’Parr, isn’t it? He’s making damned sure I don’t follow Keeva.”

  “No, no. It’s nothing like that.” She struggled to breathe, desperate to be up. She let the knife slip from her hand. “You see. I’m not here to kill you or to harm you. As I said, I have a business proposition.”

  “At knifepoint? Chicky, we haven’t even gotten into negotiations yet, and already you want to slit my throat.”

  Moving with infinite care so as not to set him off further, she pushed the wicked blade away from her as far as her fingers would allow. “I promise, our goals are the same. You want to go to the Zone to rescue your woman. I also want to travel there. I need a captain, a ship.”

  He laughed unpleasantly. “Well then, you’re going to be disappointed. You must be the only sentient being who hasn’t heard I lost the Ash Nova playing jarouk.”

  She nodded. “I know. I’m going to help you win it back.”

  His fingers flexed on her wrist while he considered. “Why?”

  “I told you, I—”

  “No. I meant, why me? There are a dozen other captains floating around Aleut Station. Any one of them would take you, for the right price.”

  Sayal almost groaned from the intimidating pressure of his body on hers. “Pl
ease, Captain. I can’t breathe. Let me up so we can speak properly.”

  He took his time thinking about it. “That’s an Asaki blade. Where’d you get it?”

  “I stole it.” It was the truth.

  “You should never pull a weapon you don’t intend to use.”

  “I didn’t mean to. You frightened me.”

  His jaw worked. Leaning on her even more heavily, he released her shoulder and reached over her to pick up the long, lethal weapon. The dim light caught its blue-black edge. With a flick of his wrist, he threw it, and the famed Asaki steel sank to the hilt in the wall.

  “Sharp,” he said, one eyebrow raised.

  Before she could respond, he flipped her again, onto her belly this time, her arms pinned behind her back. Sayal had never been manhandled so. Between the panic and outrage, her pulse raced, and she kicked her legs. He pressed a hand between her shoulder blades and shushed her until she calmed. The heat of his hand burned through the black silk of her bodysuit. “You have any other weapons?”

  “No,” she said, her voice muffled, as her face was half pressed into the musty carpet.

  “Good.” He trailed his hand down her spine toward her buttocks, leaving a trail of prickle flesh. His voice was level and firm. “I’m going to check for myself. If you’re clean, then we talk.”

  And if she wasn’t… Well, she was, but still, she did not like this feeling of helplessness. Yet if she truly desired his aid, she had to submit to his groping.

  He moved his hand over her shoulders, down her arms, down the tense muscles of her back, her spine, her buttocks. Holding her crossed wrists against the small of her back, Kels shifted and parted her legs with his knee. Sayal almost snapped in outrage but then remembered her mission, the importance, and forced herself to be still.

  His searching fingers moved down to her ankles, felt around the tops of her boots, where an assassin might hide pin knives or darts. Finding none, he quested along her calves, the insides of her thighs. Sayal tensed. His hand lingered over her pussy, his palm hot and firm—surely, he didn’t think she hid anything there—then moved on a second before she had reason to suspect more than a weapons search was under way.

  For some reason, her body reacted to his touch. The panic, the adrenaline surging through her, made her flesh hypersensitive. Yes, that had to be why her nipples were peaking, pressing against the short carpet while he shifted again, straddling the backs of her thighs.

  He drew back her hood, slid off the clip holding her hair, and threaded his fingers through the length. “Surely, Captain,” she said, hating the breathlessness in her voice, “you don’t think I keep weapons in my hair.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” he replied. As if she were a rag doll, he flipped her again so she looked up at him where he straddled her. The position brought his crotch in contact with her dampening pussy, and she was glad for the black color of her suit, lest he see how her nipples had hardened. He caught her wrists and held them in one hand above her head. “Keep them there.”

  If he felt any arousal, he hid it well. His expression was as stony as ever. Spreading his fingers while she obediently kept hers clasped, he felt around her waist, over her belly, then, as she’d known he would, over her breasts. She swallowed drily as his palms skimmed over her taut nipples. No hiding them now. By the Fates, she hardly minded that the pads of his fingers lingered over the aching tips. The light pressure felt exquisite. It rippled down to her swelling sex, almost making her writhe. Yet she forced herself to lie rigidly, and he seemed unmoved.

  “Open your mouth,” he said.

  “What?”

  He caught her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I said open your mouth. Gotta make sure you don’t have any spit darts.”

  “Oh.” She did, and he inserted a thick finger, sliding it over her tongue, over her teeth, over her lips, wetting them as if in a kiss. Between that and the pressure on her mound as he moved over her, Sayal’s head began to swim. Perhaps she’d absorbed more of that hool than she’d thought.

  Abruptly, he tapped her cheek and got off her. “You’re clean, at least clean enough for me.”

  He stood and held out a hand to help her up. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Sayal Iluma.” She got up on her own, refusing his hand, and discreetly straightened her bodysuit. As if there were room for a wrinkle. It hugged her like it was painted on, leaving little to the imagination. Where Keeva was all athletic power, this Sayal was slender and delicate. From her slanting green-gold eyes to her economic movements, she reminded him of a solar cat, grooming down a stray hair in a perfect, glossy coat.

  Kels turned from her and straightened his dick in his pants. The little intruder had got him hard again, even after his workout with Keeva. Why, he didn’t know. He was ferociously pissed at her, first for surprising him in his own cube, second and not least of all, for destroying his fog. All that good hool gone to waste.

  He went to a side cabinet and pulled out a carafe of yare, not nearly as potent as hool, but it’d have to do. He had sorrows to drown. “How’d you do it?” he asked.

  “Do what?” She stood tensely, hands closed at her sides.

  “Sober me up. Jack?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  She lied. He didn’t have the piercing headache that always followed jack, and his heart didn’t race. She also didn’t know there were no such things as spit darts, and for all that she had a fine Asaki blade in her possession, he’d taken it like candy from a baby.

  No assassin, least not unless she was completely incompetent. Who was this little beauty?

  Without asking if she wanted one, he poured her a shot of yare and handed it to her. Her hand trembled. Good. He liked her nervous. Gave him an advantage. If she noticed the hard-on she’d given him, she’d probably be even more jumpy.

  “Why’d you break in? If you wanted to talk, you could’ve caught me at the bar, after the games. Anywhere.”

  “I needed privacy. What I have to discuss with you is for your ears alone.”

  She had an exotic accent he couldn’t place. “I’m listening.”

  “As I told you, I need transport to the Conflict Zone. My research has shown you’ve traveled there before.”

  “Research?”

  “Yes, Captain. You are not a random choice. I believe Fate has led me to you. You fulfill all the requirements.”

  Requirements? He didn’t like the sound of that. Could be she was a winger, a religious zealot. He’d had a few run-ins with those. Screwball lot, best avoided.

  She looked at him pleadingly. “I’ve also been told that you’re a man of your word, and if anyone enters into a contract with you, you will honor it.”

  “I worried my reputation would catch up with me someday.” Honesty and smuggling were strange bedfellows, but no one would do business with him if he had a rep for running off with the goods.

  He stepped away from her and sprawled in the trashed chair that came with the cube. He reached into his pocket for a cig and lit it up. When he offered her one, she refused. She still held her drink. There was no other chair in the room, and she shifted on her feet, clearly feeling awkward and exposed, which was exactly how he wanted her. Slouching back in his comfortable seat, Kels eyed her through the smoke. “It’s a pricey trip to the Zone. Dangerous too. What’s in it for me?”

  Her chin lifted. There was a haughtiness to her bearing that made him wonder if she was a richer fallen on hard times. Hard times were bad, for her and for him. He wasn’t at all surprised when she said, “I have little money now. But I promise, you will be paid.”

  He gave her a shark’s smile around his cig. “Oh, luv. If you knew how many times I’ve heard that before.” He propped his boot on a low shelf and shook his head. “I work for money, payment up front, cold, hard iron. Me and my first mate have to eat. And if you haven’t noticed”—he tipped his head to indicate the cramped, dirty cube—“I’m not exactly living the lifestyle to which I�
�d become accustomed.”

  She found a tiny ledge to set her drink upon, untouched. “Yes. I know how you lost your cargo on your last run. And how you gambled away the Ash Nova, hoping to win enough to repay your angry client.”

  “Then you’ll understand why I have to refuse.” He stood to show her to the door. She held up her hand.

  “Wait, Captain. Please, hear me out.”

  “I’ve had a long day, Sayal, and I’m not in the temper to entertain guests.” He crowded her back against the wall.

  Her shoulders thumped against it when she stepped away from him, her eyes wide. Yet she held his gaze and said, “I can help you win back your ship. If I do that, then will you consider my request?”

  He flattened his hand on the wall beside her head. “No.”

  “But why?” Her chest rose and fell swiftly. The panic practically dripped off her, but she didn’t run.

  “No captain would take you without payment up front. The Conflict Zone’s hotter than ever, sweetheart. It might be a suicide run. And for what? What’s your business there?”

  “The games.”

  “To observe? Or participate?” With her fine bone structure and slinky body, she could compete, but she lacked the boldness she’d need.

  “Participate.” She swallowed visibly. “With you.”

  “With me?” Disbelief turned into laughter. He backed off and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sayal, what in the seven hells would make you think I could compete in the high games? Or would want to?”

  “I’ve seen you at the Dome, with your gamespartner. I thought your performance was adequate. Beyond adequate,” she amended hurriedly when he scowled at her. She stepped toward him. “I must gain invite to the high games. It’s absolutely vital. Don’t you see? With your ship and your experience, you—”

  “Fulfill all the requirements. Yes, I see it now.” He pulled on his lower lip, shaking his head. “Sayal, my dear, I wish everyone had the confidence in my abilities that you apparently do, but let me assure you, this—” he waved his hand over his body—“is not high-games material. I’m not exactly known for my small ego, but I’m a realist.”