by Cynthia Sax
Captain. She closed her eyes, breathing in his musky scent. “Remember…”
He chuckled, and his chest brushed against her breasts. “Yes. I’ll remember your damn to-do list. I remember everything you’ve ever said to me.” He gripped her tighter. “Don’t worry, love. Concentrate on getting better.”
“Trust…”
Raylee fell into a swirling endless darkness. She reached out with her arms and legs, trying to grab onto anything to stop her descent. There was nothing. She was alone in a funnel of damp, stiflingly hot air.
Too hot. She pulled her flight suit off, and the fabric caught around her wrists. She struggled. She couldn’t free herself. The heat was unbearable. She was burning up. She writhed, frantic for relief.
A voice murmured unintelligible words, and rough skin slid against hers, releasing her from her bindings. A cool breeze covered her flesh. She spread her thighs, allowing the chill to access all of her, and she shivered with delight as she continued to fall, the black starless night smelling deliciously familiar. Safe. She smiled. Loved.
She rolled onto her back and landed with a thud on hard ground. “Fuck.” She groaned, her ass, spine and shoulders aching. She sat up, and a warm wall slid behind her, supporting her shoulders.
Moisture dripped onto her lips. She licked at it. Yuck. It tasted like rotten rations. Another drop rolled over her chin. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose at the metallic scent. She wiggled backward, and the wall stopped her escape. She twisted to the side. A thick rope dug into her waist. The liquid flooded her mouth, and she sputtered, choking.
She looked up toward the source, and she screamed. Vegas’ severed head hung from the beams, blood gushing from his neck. She screamed and screamed and screamed. “Raylee.” His mouth moved.
Oh God. She thrashed her arms, clawing at her restraints. “Vegas!” She screamed. She had allowed herself to love him, and he had died. Oh God. “Vegas!”
“Raylee.” Cool hands held her face. “I’m here. I have you.”
Vegas? He was alive? She blinked. Colors blurred together. Shapes rippled.
“I have you.”
He rocked her in his arms and repeated that sentence over and over until she believed him, and her terror slowly dissipated. He was alive. She was safe. Vegas had her.
* * * * *
Raylee opened her eyes. Unfamiliar stars whizzed by the bridge’s main viewscreen, the fast movement causing her head to spin. She wiggled her arms. She couldn’t move them. A blanket was wound tightly around her naked body.
“You’re awake.” Vegas’ voice rumbled into her right ear, his breath warm and reassuring. “Thank God. Because for a moment there…” His chest heaved against her back, his breath ragged. “You’re awake,” he repeated as though reassuring himself.
Raylee turned her head, ignoring the pain shooting up her neck, and she studied his face. Stubble covered his chin. Dark circles accentuated his electric-blue eyes. The hair on his head stood straight up in places and was matted down in others. “Hell,” she croaked, her throat dry and raw. That was what he looked like.
He chuckled. “Yes. That would describe the past three days.” He pulled her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her swaddled form. “I’d rather battle a hundred Balazoids than go through that again.”
She tried to focus on his words but turning her head had exhausted her. “Battle?”
“No battles. Don’t worry, Captain. Ship is safe. Sexy is safe. I’m safe.” He tapped the end of her nose, and she blinked. “And soon you’ll be well.” He brushed his lips lightly over hers, his calloused hands framing her face, his fingers stroking her skin. He handled her with a touching tenderness.
She sighed, contented to be near Vegas and too tired to ask him the questions she should. All that mattered to her was he was here. He was safe.
Vegas unstuck curls from her face and pushed the hair behind her ears. Raylee’s cheeks heated. “Mess.” She forced the word past her parched lips.
“Beautiful.” He smoothed her eyebrows with his thumbs. “And brave and strong. You’re everything a man could want.”
He smiled. A raw, ragged emotion she couldn’t identify swept over Raylee, and a teardrop slid down her cheek. He captured it with the tip of his finger.
“No crying.” He licked the liquid off his skin. “You know what that does to me.”
She didn’t know what it did to him. Raylee stared at him. She didn’t know anything. Why was she on the bridge? Why was she naked? Vegas stared back at her, searching her face as if he was memorizing every detail. Why would he do that? Was he leaving her? Panic raged through her.
“Stay.” She curled her fingers around the edge of the blanket, wanting to clutch his shirt lapels, but lacking the energy.
“I’m not leaving you, Raylee.” Vegas covered her hand with his. “Not ever again.” His brilliant blue eyes shone as his gaze held hers. Bright slashes of red colored his cheekbones.
“We’re on course, making good time.” He gruffly changed the subject as though he’d been embarrassed by his declaration. “See that planet?” Vegas pointed at the viewscreen and she turned her head, wincing at the pain. “I spent an interesting evening there with one of the locals. He was a small three-legged humanoid and by small, I mean small. He was shorter than you are. But he had a big thing for the ladies.”
Raylee rested her head against Vegas’ broad chest, her fever-ravaged body secured by his strong arms, while he spun tales of intergalactic espionage. He talked, she listened, and they gazed at the passing stars, the blur of light calming her.
Chapter Five
“Captain Raylee reporting for duty, sir.” Three days later, his mate snapped a jaunty salute, clicking her boot-covered heels together.
“You’re feeling better this morning.” Vegas looked up from the gun he was installing, adding extra firepower to Ship’s exit ramps. She was still too thin, but her eyes were clear and lucid, her color healthy and her smile wide. “Thank God.” He exhaled in relief.
“What do you mean ‘Thank God’?” She narrowed her eyes. “You told me the Balazoid blocker made you sick for a week. I was only out of it for three days.”
“I didn’t look like a half-drowned kitten,” Vegas mumbled. “With those big eyes and quivering lips and—”
“What?!”
He sounded like a fuckin’ poet, not a damn spy. His face heated. “Hand me the number four.” He waved his hand at the toolbox. She passed him the tightening tool, and their fingers brushed, a spark of awareness shooting up Vegas’ arm. “Your hands are steady,” he noted, reassuring himself that she was alive and healthy.
“Rock steady.” Raylee draped over the gun, her firm, round ass sticking out, tempting him to touch her. “So I can hold your mysterious canister today. I won’t drop it, I promise.” Her grin was impish and the corners of Vegas’ mouth quirked upward in response.
“You won’t drop it,” he agreed. “Because you won’t be touching it. One drop of that green liquid could blow us into the next century.” Vegas bent over to tighten the nut, grunting with the effort. “Transport of the canister is my role.”
“Decoy is Sexy’s role. Transport to Lokan is Ship’s responsibility.” She peered through the gunsights. “You haven’t assigned me my tasks yet.”
Vegas deliberately didn’t answer. Avoiding Raylee’s expectant gaze, he frowned down at the base.
“Why is that, Vegas?” She swung the gun around and he ducked to avoid the barrel. “Don’t you trust me? I said I’d help you, and I will. I do what I say I’m going to do.”
“I know you do.” Vegas heard the hurt in her voice. He straightened. “Come here.” He pulled her close to him, her hips snug against his, her breasts flattened by his chest. “I trust you.” He kissed her forehead, rubbing her back. “I wouldn’t have told you my plans otherwise. And you have a job. You’re Ship’s captain, remember?”
“He doesn’t need a captain,” she mumbled into his shirt. “He tells me t
hat all the time.”
“Because it’s true,” Ship added. “A captain is not necessary for operations. I am a class-A—”
“Ship,” Vegas cautioned. “This is private conversation and you’re not to interfere. We’ve talked about this before.”
“Fine.” Ship blew air through his pipes. “Then I’ll simply ignore the Balazoid warship heading in our direction, allow them to board us and spend another decade sanitizing blood off my decks.”
“What?” Vegas’ question was echoed by Raylee. Balazoids. A chill of fear rolled through him.
“Fuck. I have to get to the bridge.” Raylee ran through the corridors and Vegas followed, doors closing behind them. “Ship, how long will it take them to reach us?”
“At their current rate of speed, ten minutes. Their life sensors are activated but we are presently beyond their range,” Ship advised. “They are scanning for human life.”
They reached the bridge, a visual of the approaching warship on the main viewscreen. Ship hadn’t been mistaken. It was Balazoid.
“They’re looking for you,” Raylee accused Vegas, her cheeks flushed with anger. “And now that those Balazoid bastards have found you, they’ll capture and torture and execute the man I care for while I watch, helpless to do anything.” She turned and stared at the viewscreen. “I knew I should have done this alone.”
“You care for me?” Vegas’ heart lightened. She cares for me.
Raylee looked over her shoulder and skewered him with her eyes. “Ship, how many operational guns do we—”
“No guns.” Vegas shook his head, unable to wipe the silly grin off his face. She cares for me. My mate cares for me. “Ship, is there a planet a light-year past Lokan using the same path with humanoid inhabitants?”
There was a pause as Ship searched. “Symra II, two thousand inhabitants, Earth origin.”
“Great.” He nodded. “Reroute to Symra II, erasing the previous route from your database,” Vegas instructed, focusing on keeping Raylee safe.
“We can’t outrun them.” She frowned.
“And we’re not going to try.” He kissed her, savoring her taste, her touch, her scent, and dreading what he had to do. “You’re delivering the shipment to that planet. You don’t know what is in the crate.” They stood as one, her breasts caressing his chest with each breath. “It is only you and Ship and Sexy onboard.”
“And you?” Raylee curled her fingers around his. Her hand was small and fragile, arousing all of his protective instincts. “Where will you be? They’ll spot an escape pod.”
“I’ll be dead.” Vegas forced a smile, relaying confidence he didn’t feel.
“What!” Raylee drew away from him.
Vegas pulled her back, unwilling to let her go. “Only temporarily.” I hope. “I’ll hide my body in the closet and take a pill to stop my life signs. It’s supposedly safe.”
She stared at him, suspicion written over her pretty face. “If it is so supposedly safe, I’ll take the pill and you can be the captain.”
“I wish we could do that.” He hated putting her in danger. Vegas brushed his lips over hers, finding comfort in the contact. “But you’re the best person to pull this off. The Balazoid warriors won’t suspect a female captain.”
Her brown eyes flashed with anger. “Because they’re a bunch of female-hating—”
“They are, so play to their beliefs, Raylee. Keep your answers short and simple.” Vegas kissed her once more before striding toward the door, entrusting his life to the woman he loved. “You’re the captain. I’m counting on you.”
He’s counting on me. I can do this. Raylee rehearsed the scenario over and over in her mind. I’m making a standard delivery. Act normal. She sat in the captain’s chair, her hand on the controls, waiting until the ship entered her airspace. “Open hailing frequencies, Ship.”
“Video and audio link established.” Ship was his most formal.
“Captain Raylee of Class-A Federation Freighter USS Fitzgerald speaking, requesting if we can be of assistance. In a show of our good faith, we are not powering up weapons and our shields are down.” Not that they’d be effective. The warship would pulverize Ship into tiny particles.
“Greetings, Captain Raylee.” The viewscreen displayed a wrinkled Balazoid warrior surrounded by five others. “Captain Grok of Balazoid Warship Onerick speaking, requesting communications with your highest-ranking male officer.”
Raylee gritted her teeth, irritation nullifying her fear. “Request respectfully denied, Captain. This is a solo freighter with one human, one companion android and one guidance system onboard.”
The mouths of the Balazoid warriors moved with no audio. Damn it. I’m on mute. Their hand signals communicated aggravation. More faces filled the viewscreen, looking her over.
“We are being scanned for life signs, Captain,” Ship advised. Raylee held her breath, every second stretching into forever.
“Understood, Captain Raylee.” The Balazoid captain showed no indication he didn’t believe her and she exhaled, her lips whistling slightly. “What is your ship’s purpose?”
“We are making a delivery to Symra II.” She glanced down at her controls, avoiding his gaze.
“Route scan undertaken, Captain,” Ship shared.
“Symra II is a Federation planet. You are at the helm of a Federation ship. Why is your ship outside of Federation shipping lanes?” the warship’s captain demanded.
Shit. There are Federation shipping lanes to Symra II? Raylee dug her fingertips into her chair, communicating her displeasure with Ship for withholding that information. “I got lost, Captain Grok, and my ship’s navigational system said this was the quickest route.” Please let that be true.
“The USS Fitzgerald has a history of redirected routes, Captain,” one of his underlings chimed in.
Raylee’s face heated. I don’t get lost that often, boot licker.
The captain rubbed his sagging chin. “Have you filed the redirect with the Federation?”
Double shit. Of course she hadn’t, and he could easily verify that. “I haven’t.”
The captain leaned forward. “Then no one knows the location of your ship.” It wasn’t a question. It was a comment.
No one knows the location of my ship. No one will notice if it disappears, if I disappear. Raylee’s insides twisted as Balazoid mouths moved silently.
“They have locked onto our ship, Captain,” Ship’s tone was grave. “Our outbound communications have been restricted.”
“Fuck.” We’re in deep shit. Raylee put her bridge on mute. “Don’t let them board us, Ship. Blow us up if you have to.”
“I’ll never be boarded again, Captain,” Ship vowed.
“Captain Raylee,” the captain hailed her. “As Symra II no longer exists, we will allow you to fulfill your true destiny, serving upon a great warship.” He studied her while warriors moved behind him. “Although it may exceed your capabilities. Doctor?”
A thin Balazoid peered at her through the visual link. “She is small and we have twenty-one crew members requiring servicing, but if we ensure she is properly lubricated and we provide regular rest intervals, she should survive until the next revitalization station, Captain.”
Oh my God. The bastards plan to fuck me to death. Red-hot rage swept over Raylee and she rose up in her chair. “I’d rather die than allow you to stick your needle dicks inside—”
“Then it is decided.” The captain ignored her. “We will—”
The wail of an alarm pierced the audio and lights flashed onboard the Balazoid ship. “Captain, a Federation starship has entered the adjacent quadrant,” the underling who had mocked her navigational skills announced.
“Full speed to—” Communications were severed, the visual lost.
There were three long seconds of silence, the only sound being Raylee’s heart beating.
“Navigational abilities have been returned,” Ship informed her. “The Balazoid warship is outside firing range.”
“Luck was not a factor in the encounter, Captain.” Ship’s voice was smug. “And there was no Federation starship in the adjacent quadrant. The enemy underestimated me, not blocking my decoy abilities. I’m a class-A freighter. I don’t—”
“Thank you, Ship.” Raylee closed her eyes, squeezing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. “Oh God. This was my fuckup. I’m the captain. I should have been on the bridge when the warship first appeared.”
“I am a class-A freighter. I—”
“I’m the captain, Ship.” Raylee bounced to her feet. “And I’m not alone anymore. I have a crew to protect.” She paced, her arms folded behind her back, the burden of responsibility weighing upon her. “I never wanted a crew.” She strode between the empty chairs. “But I have one, don’t I?” She looked up at the beams. “Oh God.”
“The Federation operative is not a crew member. He is an unauthorized passenger,” Ship sniped.
“Vegas is more than a crew member. He’s the man I love and I could have killed him with my sloppiness.” She stopped. I love him. Shit. We’re all going to die. “Did I kill him? What is Vegas’ status?”
“The companion android is reviving him. All of his vital signs are fully operational and he is inquiring after your status.”
“Thank God.” Her shoulders lowered, relief rushing into her. “Tell him I will return to our sleeping chamber when my shift is complete.”
* * * * *
“Replay transmission,” Vegas instructed Ship. “Look at her.” He swatted his hand at the small viewscreen, the need for violence roiling within him. “A normal woman would be subservient, but not our Raylee.” He paused on one frame. Raylee’s chin was lifted. Her brown-eyed gaze was directed straight at the monitoring device. A gleam of moisture covered her full bottom lip. “I want to kiss the sass off her face and I’m human. A Balazoid warrior would never let her talk to him like that.”