"They are though! They were both exiled here—the captain 'cause she's got different ideas about how things ought to be done, and Jace 'cause he punched out a superior officer."
Anya raised her eyebrows, but she wasn't really surprised. Salvatore was a pot waiting to boil over, as she could attest through her confrontations with him. "And why would he do that?" she asked mildly, but Frank's eyes grew wary.
"Well, he doesn't like to talk about it…"
"I'll make sure never to bring it up to him."
That seemed to reassure him, and his eyes brightened again. "The guy got his brother killed. Gave him orders to go rescue some miners, but the tunnels weren't stable. Peter—Jace's brother—knew it and tried to tell the captain, but he was ordered in anyway. The tunnels collapsed and killed Peter and his whole crew. Jace found out how it'd happened and beat the snot out of the captain." Frank's satisfied expression told Anya that he approved wholeheartedly with his friend's actions. "He was demoted from commander to lieutenant commander and sent here."
"Aren't they usually more severe? Court-martial and whatnot?"
"Yeah, but Jace had a spotless record and everybody liked him. But the captain had powerful connections, so he wasn't blamed for what he'd done. Officially, Jace's brother was killed in the line of duty and given full honors, while Jace was demoted to LC and sent out here. Outta sight, outta mind, ya know?"
"So maybe that's why he's so angry all the time, because he resents being sent here?"
Frank seemed just as surprised as the first time she'd mentioned his boss's aggression. "No ma'am! Anya, I mean. He and Captain Jamison hit it off right away. He's been offered a position back at central, but he's refused. He also keeps telling the captain no when she wants to promote him back to his old position as commander. Wish he'd just give over about that though. He works too hard being both her second and the security chief. 'Sides, I'd like to be chief myself one of these days," he mumbled into his glass as though embarrassed to admit it.
"You'd make a great chief, Frank," she said, and he flushed with pleasure, beaming a smile at her. She smiled back before she continued, "Speaking of—we've kept you an awfully long time."
"Yeah, I should probably get back to it." He rose to his feet, expression reluctant. "Thanks for the punch."
"Anytime. You'll think about coming to dinner, I hope? At least talk to the captain about it."
"All right, I'll ask. I don't want to be pushy, though…"
"I'm sure she wouldn't see it that way." Anya escorted him to the door as the others murmured their goodbyes. "And could you be a dear and tell the guards why we can't invite them in anymore?"
He frowned down at her. "You weren't supposed to be doing that."
"Your boss made that very clear," she murmured. Her dry tone wasn't lost on him, and he winced in sympathy. "I just don't want them to think I'm being a bitch who doesn't want to see them anymore."
"I'm sure nobody'd think that, but the LC has already notified all personnel."
It was her turn to wince as he stepped out the door. "Bye, Frank…"
He waved a hand and strode off down the corridor. The same two guards who had been visiting when Salvatore had busted in on them were still on duty. She gave them a sympathetic smile, which they returned with strained expressions before closing the door.
Feeling more like a prisoner than ever, Anya turned to the living room to see that Jarden had taken her seat and was eying her with a smug, knowing look.
"My, my, wasn't Francis just a font of knowledge today?"
She felt herself flushing again and glared in irritation at her friend. "Not enough. He didn't seem to know why his boss would be mad at me."
Jar waved that away as if it meant nothing. "Can't take his eyes off you, is a fan with a huge collection of your stuff…" She rolled her dark eyes at the other two, and Cesna giggled like a girl. "What's that sound like to you?"
"It sounds like your imagination run wild."
"Sure, and I'm the type to let my imagination run wild." Jar lifted one eyebrow to accent her sarcasm. "Give over, Ani. It sounds to me like he's got a thing for you. How much you wanna bet he starts finding excuses to come down here?"
It was a good thing for Jarden that Anya didn't take that bet, because she would have lost in a big way. They didn't see Jason Salvatore for four days, and when he did come to see them, it was under duress.
Chapter 8
"I got another invitation to dine with your charges."
Jason looked up from his screens at his captain irritably. Everything was making him irritable these days, but Marta's cat and mouse games were more than he could stand. "Great. Have fun," he snarled. His tone should have been a warning, but either she was being dense today or she just didn't care. By the carefully mild expression on her face, he was going with option B.
"They invited you, as well."
"Tell 'em thanks, but no thanks."
"I already said you would be there."
"Then unsay it!" he snapped, glaring at her with total disregard for her superior rank. He knew he was in real trouble when she only gave him a gentle smile for his insubordination.
"Sorry, Jace, but I need you there. They're a remarkably inquisitive bunch. At the last dinner, it was all I could do to fend them off, so this time I'm bringing you to run interference."
He didn't buy that story for a second. He'd seen Marta Jamison face down a room full of alien delegates bent on aggression with grace, style, and her own brand of devious charm. Four curious human women would be a cake-walk for her.
"I'm sure you can manage," he said in his driest tone, flicking her a dark look.
"Not this time. That's an order, Lieutenant Commander."
Sitting back with a strangled curse, he glared daggers at her as she began pacing in front of his desk.
"Besides, you need to get over this foolish guilt you've been stewing in. No one could have done a better job than you in trying to track down this telepath. True, we've reached a stalemate with this man, but it's not a failure—you've protected them very well, and they remain safe because of you."
"I don't stew," he muttered through clenched teeth.
"Brood, then. You've been biting everyone's heads off, including mine, and I've had enough. A night out will do you a world of good." She stopped and grinned without mercy at him. "Maybe they'll sing Counting Teardrops for you this time. Did I tell you how amazing it was to hear three humans harmonizing with a Thlassnian? It gave me chills. And did I tell you what an experience it was to feel Anya sing?"
"About a million damned times!"
Her grin faded at his shout, but he was certain she was laughing at him. Her dark eyes danced with it as she shook an admonishing finger at him. "That is exactly what I'm talking about. You need to unwind and stop being so cranky to everyone." She then turned and marched towards the door. "I told them we'd be there at seven. Don't be late."
"I'm—not—cranky!" he shouted at the closed door before dropping his head into his hands. He should have known this was going to be a bad day.
Several hours later, he stood in front of the women's quarters, grinding his teeth and swearing under his breath. The two guards had stood at attention when he'd stalked up to them, but were now shifting nervously, casting glances at each other when he didn't speak to them or try to announce himself.
"Sir? Are you—ah, do you want to—"
With a final curse that made the guard blanch, Jason stepped forward and touched the door chime, barking his name into the com. He braced himself, but when the door slid open, it wasn't Anya he faced.
The redhead Cesna smiled at him in welcome. He remembered her advances the last time he'd been there, but she was remarkably restrained today, waving him in with a gracious hand as she said, "Lieutenant Commander, it's nice to see you again. Won't you come in?"
"Thank you," he muttered, watching her with narrowed, suspicious eyes as he stepped stiffly past her.
She did nothing, expres
sion bland, and he glanced away from her only to stop in abrupt shock at the sight before him. There was a table between the kitchen and the living room, draped in a fine cloth with a formal setting, an array of tall candles as the centerpiece. Other candles were spread throughout the place, giving the only light. Anya stood with the captain next to the table, and Jason felt his heart do some painful maneuver in his chest at the sight. She was wearing a low cut gown of a deep blue that matched the color of her eyes with thin straps and a skirt short enough to show off most of her long, slim legs.
Jason would have thought that he was the object of some seduction scheme if the captain hadn't been standing there in an equally formal gown. He glanced around furtively to note that her friends were also dressed in style, seeing for the first time Cesna's bountiful cleavage and revealing skirt. Catching sight of her smug smile, he realized that he'd been staring down at her dress with a frown.
"You look lovely," he muttered in defense, only to flinch as her smile widened to something more seductive.
Sliding her arm through his, she said, "You look awfully good yourself. I do love a man in uniform." Not having anything to say to that, he let her tug him forward as she continued, "Look what I found out in the corridor."
"Jace, glad you could make it."
He heard the dryness in his captain's tone and shot her a quelling look before glancing at Anya warily. "Thanks for the invite."
Her expression was hard to read by candlelight, but he could have sworn that she looked amused. "It's good to see you again, Lieutenant Commander. We were beginning to think you'd abandoned us."
"I knew you were in good hands. Coop says he's been keeping you informed."
"A font of knowledge," Jarden murmured, as she edged by them with a serving dish, giving him a slow wink as she passed. Frowning at her, Jason tried to decide what the hell that was supposed to mean, but Anya drew his attention.
"Frank has been taking very good care of us. He tells me the third search is progressing…"
"About like the first two." Jason couldn't help the abrupt tone of his voice, but regretted it when a light frown creased her brow and she looked away.
The Thlassnian approached him, touching his sleeve with light fingers. Her scaled skin gleamed like a jewel in the candlelight, and her eyes reflected it back in a myriad of colors. "Please, do sit down. We will serve the meal now."
They sat the captain at the head of the table and Jason next to her, but he was disconcerted to see Anya sit across from him. To stare at her all night dressed in candlelight and fatal beauty was going to be torment. His memory and his dreams paled in comparison to the reality of her, and he cursed his captain silently for forcing him to come here when he'd stayed away on purpose. He was having a hard enough time sleeping, for god's sake—that dress was going to keep him awake all damned night.
Jarden and Rie served the meal, and Jason found his glass full of wine that he hadn't asked for. He never felt less like eating in his life, but he forged ahead doggedly, listening with bare attention to the flow of small talk that swirled around him. He noticed that the women didn't once interrogate Marta or ask any inappropriate questions. He was definitely going to blister his captain later for what had been a blatant lie.
He also noticed that every time he looked up from his plate, his glance collided with Anya's before she'd hide the blue velvet of her eyes with those fantastic silver lashes. It made eating more and more difficult. Was she staring at him deliberately? Was she looking right through him with her talent? His skin started to feel like it was being burned by the candlelight and to sit there calmly eating took a Herculean effort of will.
It was worse when he finished eating, though. Then he had nothing to stare at but his wineglass and her. And soon enough, his wineglass was empty. Finally, the pressure inside him grew too much to contain, and he lunged to his feet. The conversation ceased abruptly, but Jason pushed away from the table and sauntered into the living room as though it was perfectly normal for him to leave the table without a word. After a moment, his captain began where she'd left off, and the conversation continued.
The release of tension was short-lived. He made a slow circuit of the living room, making a show of inspecting the different decorations and pieces of art they'd set out to display, but he knew soon enough that he was going to have to return to the table. He'd already been rude, and Marta was bound to take him to task for it later. If he tried to leave now, she would probably bust his ass for him.
Weighing the consequences of incurring his captain's wrath with his longing for escape, he stared unseeing at a sculpture, not noticing Anya until she was at his elbow.
She didn't seem to notice his jerk of surprise or his muffled curse at her appearance, staring down at the sculpture with a faint smile. "It's a Thlassnian water sculpture. Rie tells me it's very rare. Apparently, it takes a sculptor years to get the crystal to grow just right. I've asked her how they get the liquid inside to move like that, but she just shrugs and tells me, 'It is how it is.'" Her smile widened a little as she looked up at him, and his stomach muscles tightened in response. "She's always saying things like that. Personally, I think she does it just to be annoying."
Her smile faded when he said nothing, and after giving him a searching look, she dropped her eyes and traced a finger over an arch in the sculpture. "Do you like art, Lieutenant Commander?"
"Some," he answered in a clipped tone, mind racing to find a way out of this situation. She was standing much too close. She smelled like peaches, and he could feel his pulse beating at his temples.
His tone seemed to upset her. She shifted away from him and stiffened, eyes becoming cool as they looked up into his with a directness that he was coming to realize was her way of approaching an uncomfortable topic. "I have a suggestion to make with regards to this situation with the telepath. I realize that we're at something of a draw. He can't get to me, and you can't find him. I can feel him with my talent if I'm close enough. I think I should be part of the search—"
"Out of the question."
"Just think about it a minute. You're wasting valuable resources—"
"I said no."
She sighed in exasperation, folding her arms in a way that only enhanced the scoop of her dress. He felt like shaking her.
"Unless things change radically, I am the only one who can find him. I'd draw him out if I went out there—"
"I'm not using you for bait. I'm supposed to be keeping you safe, not waving you under his nose."
"Damn it, Salvatore, I am not spending the rest of my life cooped up in this place! I trust you to keep me safe—"
"No! That's final!"
Their voices had raised, and Jason was peripherally aware that the conversation around the table had stopped again, but he couldn't spare them any of his attention. All of his focus was centered on the infuriating woman in front of him who, for some unknown reason, wanted to throw herself into danger. If he'd been in a state of mind to notice, he would have seen that part of his anger was actually panic at that thought.
"No? Just like that?" She threw her hands up in aggravation. "You are the most bullheaded, arrogant man I've ever met! If you don't at least consider the idea, I swear I will walk out that door all by myself and find him!"
A stab of pure terror made him grab her shoulders and shake her once, hard. "No you won't! I'll lock that door first!"
Twisting out of his hold, she took a step back, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breathing and her hands clenched into fists. "Damn you!" she hissed before straightening, her expression hardening into scathing contempt. "You can show yourself out, Lieutenant Commander. I believe you know the way."
Whirling, she stalked away from him and disappeared into the bedroom, the door sliding shut behind her. With a quick, wide-eyed look towards him, Cesna hurried after her. Jason held himself still, trying to contain the violence that burned along his muscles.
"Well," his captain murmured, "that was well done, Jace."
He walked out without a word.
It didn't take Marta long to follow him. He'd only been stalking back and forth in his quarters for less than five minutes when the door chimed. "Go away, Marty!"
He may as well have said, "Come on in; make yourself at home," for all the attention she paid him. The door opened, and she barged in, walking into the living room and plopping herself into a chair. With a challenging stare, she lifted her eyebrows and said, "So?"
"What?" he snarled, unfastening his uniform jacket with jerky movements.
"Jace—"
"If you're here to argue her side, forget it—"
"I'm here because I'm worried about you, Jason. You're a hard man, driven and frequently abrupt, but I've never seen you lose control—until tonight. What's going on with you?"
"What d'you want me to do, admit I made an ass out of myself? Fine! I was a complete jackass and tonight was a disaster."
"No argument there," she murmured, her tone wry. He shot her a dirty look, but turned away from her searching gaze and continued to pace as she said, "It's the why I'm concerned about. I know this situation with the telepath has been difficult, but you've handled similar things without burning out—"
"For god's sake, Marty, I'm not burning out."
"Then why were you just yelling at the top of your lungs and physically assaulting your ward?"
"I didn't assault—"
"No? When did grabbing someone and shaking them become standard procedure? I must have missed that change in protocol." Her voice was dry as a desert, and Jason glared at her, dropping into a chair opposite hers.
"That woman's insane."
"Not so. I think her idea has merit; though, it's admittedly dangerous."
"I knew you were coming here to argue her case."
"I'm not. I won't get involved in this decision. It's between you and her. I would never ask her to risk herself like that, but since she's suggested it, I do think you ought to at least consider it. If after you've thought about it, you still decide not to go ahead, I'll back you one hundred percent."
Angels and Ministers of Grace Page 8