by JC Cassels
“Tennova.” He jerked his chin towards the man in question. “Stay clear of him.”
“I don’t see what business it is of yours whom I choose to…”
“He’s a sadistic bastard. He makes me look like a gentleman. I want you to steer clear of him.”
He meant it.
Bo shook her head. “I can’t.”
His mouth tightened. He pulled her against him and led her through a complex series of dance steps. It took all of Bo’s concentration to follow him without stepping all over his feet. She hung on to him for all she was worth.
His free hand closed over hers and he lifted it to his lips before nudging her away from him for a showy trio of turns before pulling her back into his arms. Breathless and dizzy, she was hyper-aware of everything about him. He pressed her hand against his chest just over his heart. She felt the steady, solid rhythm beneath her touch. His hand slid lightly along her arm and down her side leaving a trail of chill bumps in its wake. Slowly, deliberately, his hands slid into place on her hips. His fingers, splayed across her backside and tightened, curling into her soft flesh as he guided her through the steps of the dance.
Bo knew she was being played. She recognized a deliberate, calculated seduction when she saw one. It was an art. He had mastered it. She reveled in it.
The intimate contact of their bodies gave her a chance to feel his moves in time to follow them. Soon she was able to settle into the rhythm and see the pattern. Before she knew it, they moved together with the same lithe grace. Sliding one arm around his neck, she traced the contours of his chest with her other hand, marveling at the solid muscle underneath his shirt.
She didn’t get to enjoy the simple pleasures in life much anymore. She determined to make the most of this one. She understood why he flustered her so. He treated her like a woman, not The Barron, not the commander of the Black Wing. Despite the fact that she played a role, she had the feeling that he saw through all the layers to the person inside. The idea both terrified and excited her.
Of all the times to find someone who piqued her interest, she had to find him now, just when she could least afford a complication. Rubbing her cheek against his lapel, she breathed deeply of his warm, comforting, masculine scent. Bo couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced with a man, and even then it most likely had been her cousin. As good a dancer as Jaden was, it hadn’t been like this.
He leaned down as if he wanted to say something so Bo inclined her head towards him. She started in surprise when his lips touched the sensitive skin underneath her ear.
Jaden certainly hadn’t done that!
Her breath caught and she missed a step. He took that as encouragement and doubled his assault on her neck. Bo closed her eyes as she melted against him. Her arm tightened around his neck and her other hand slid around his shoulder to keep from falling as her knees trembled underneath her. His arms went around her just as she feared she would fall.
“Please…”
Whether she wanted him to stop or continue, Bo didn’t know for sure. Disappointment surged through her as he lifted his head. Opening her eyes, she stared up at him as he studied her face for a long moment, his expression unfathomable behind the sunshades.
Slowly, tentatively, Bo reached for them, but he pulled her hand away and pressed a kiss into her palm.
“Ah, hell,” he said at last. “I’m in trouble.”
Her lips parted to ask for an explanation, but his mouth covered hers, effectively silencing her. She should have protested. She should have fought him. When other men had tried taking the liberties he enjoyed, she’d handed their asses to them. Not this time.
Pressed full-length against him, they fit together perfectly. Nothing had ever felt so right. With a small contented sigh, she surrendered her last objection and gave herself over to this – to him. His lips expertly plied hers until Bo would have agreed to anything he asked. He dragged his mouth away from hers and scattered light kisses across her cheeks. Cradling her head against his shoulder, his lips touched her forehead. He held her like that for a long moment before he spoke.
“Tell me, Marissa, how much would it set me back to fuck a woman like you?”
The question hit her like a slap on the face. Stunned, Bo didn’t respond. She tried to pull away, but he held her to him in an unrelenting grip.
“I need to know,” he said. “You are such a hot little tease. Did they teach you that trick with the window at the D’or Choh or is that something you came up with on your own?”
With a burst of strength fueled by sudden fury, Bo shoved hard against him. As soon as she broke free from his hold, she lashed out, striking him in the face with an open-handed punch forceful enough to knock his sunshades askew. The jolt of her hand making contact sent waves of pain through her hand and forearm. Taking a step back, she flexed her hand and gave it a little shake to send the blood back into her fingers.
Someone nearby whistled and hooted. Applause broke out, amidst cheers and jeers. Darien didn’t move. He watched her with an expectant stillness. She’d half expected him to lash out, laugh, apologize or insult her again. She hadn’t expected him to stand like a statue and take it. As they stared at each other, it occurred to Bo that perhaps she’d been maneuvered. She liked that even less.
Glaring at him, she gave her aching hand another little shake and rubbed it with her other hand. “To hell with Tennova,” she muttered, turning and shoving her way through the crowd. “To hell with Royce and to hell with you, Darien Roarke!”
She’d had quite enough for one day.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Well – it was done. He wasn’t particularly proud of himself. That had to have beaten his record for the fastest self-destruction of an affair ever. The crowd gave way in front of her as she turned and stormed out of the club. Fury lent her a dangerous aura he found even more attractive than her blush. As she reached the edge of the dance floor, her foot slipped on the flooring and she wobbled. She recovered her balance quickly and found her rhythm again, disappearing from view without a backward glance.
Once certain she had left the club, he finally trusted himself to move. Wincing, he lifted his hand to his jaw, massaging it gingerly with his fingertips and testing the stability of his teeth with his tongue. She threw a hell of a punch.
Satisfied he’d suffered no lasting injury; he straightened his sunshades and shouldered his way through the crowd to the bar.
“What can I get you?”
“Shockwave. Heavy on the ice.”
With a smirk that said he’d seen the whole thing, the young bartender quickly accommodated him, setting the putrid yellow drink in front of him. Handing over his Darien Roarke finance card, Blade gave the drink one last stir before taking a sip. Sour and potent, the shockwave suited his mood. The transaction completed, the bartender returned the card. Tucking it back into his pocket, he leaned on the bar and carefully pressed the cold glass to his jaw, hoping to relieve the rising throbbing there. Taking a deep, calming breath, he blew it out in a huff.
This job just kept getting better, he thought wryly.
“Great floor show. What do you do for an encore?”
Blade glanced up.
Tennova handed three empty glasses to the bartender. “Set us up another round, if you will.”
The bartender nodded and moved away.
Tennova studied Blade, his expression deceptively open and friendly, but Blade knew an act when he saw one.
“You know, you are a very lucky man,” Tennova said.
“How do you figure?”
Tennova leaned a casual elbow on the edge of the bar. Staring off into space as if trying to formulate his words, he smiled. “Well, that Joy Babe you just assaulted belongs to me.” Pausing to let that fact seep in, he slowly looked to Blade. “I don’t like other men trying to steal my playthings.”
Blade’s lips quirked. He had to hand it to the man: he had nerve. Sipping from his drink, he didn’t bother to look at Tennova as he set
his glass on the bar.
“If she belongs to you then what is she doing on someone else’s arm?” Blade met Tennova’s cold, emotionless stare with a lopsided smile.
“We’re in negotiations for her contract.” The bartender set three fresh drinks on the bar in front of Tennova. “If you like breathing and want to continue doing so, you’ll stay away from her. I’m only warning you once. If you’re smart,” Tennova winked and scooped up the drinks, “you’ll listen.”
Without waiting for Blade to comment, he backed away from the bar and slipped through the crowd towards his party. Blade watched him go before he picked up his glass once again.
The swiveling lights passed over him, reflecting off an oily prism of color floating on the yellow surface of his drink. He hesitated, then slowly lowered his glass back onto the bar top untasted. Smiling to himself, he slid the drink towards the bartender and pushed himself away from the bar.
Blade didn’t know how he had done it, but while Tennova had distracted him, someone had slipped something into his drink. Exactly what it was, Blade didn’t care to find out. Looking back to Tennova, he caught his eye. With a smirk, Tennova lifted his drink in silent toast. With a nod, Blade touched his fingertips to his forehead in a mocking salute.
***
The cardio machine creaked and groaned, protesting the abuse Bo heaped on it as she pushed it far beyond its accustomed parameters. The one nice thing about being on a cruise liner with a bunch of gamblers was that it guaranteed the fitness center would be completely empty in the early morning hours. Not only could she work out at her normal level without being disturbed, she could also have a conversation with her brother over her com-implant without fear of discovery.
“Can you believe that man?”
“I’m not believing you, brat,” Edge said in the com-implant. “You need to dial it back a little. Your vitals are maxing out and you’re not doing that machine any good, either.”
Bo glanced down at the towel she’d tossed over the readouts on the machine. Once she set her workout level, she didn’t care what the machine said about her vitals. She could tell where she was in her workout from the way she felt.
“I’m fine,” she assured her brother.
“What do you expect, Bo? You’re supposed to be a Joy Babe. Take it as a compliment and let it go.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” She snorted and tossed her head. “He wasn’t propositioning me. He was insulting me, and he was doing it on purpose.”
“What do you want me to do about it? Freeze his accounts?”
Bo growled with frustration. “I don’t want you to do anything to him,” she said. “Just… get angry. Commiserate with me. Acknowledge that he was out of line. Tell me he was a jerk. Tell me he was overcompensating for some of nature’s shortcomings.”
“You need some female friends.”
“I thought he liked me,” she said. “Why would he be so awful? When I hit him, he just stood there and took it. Who just stands there and takes it?”
“Why couldn’t I have had a little brother instead? I asked for a little brother.”
Bo’s lips twisted in a grimace at her brother’s attitude. Resistance on the machine increased dramatically, slowing her steps.
“Did you just turn up the gravity on this machine?”
“I did. I wanted to get your attention and you’re obviously not listening to me anymore.”
“I’d listen if you said anything worth hearing.”
“Start your cool down. You’re going to need to get your head back in the game. Darien Roarke is not your mark, I don’t care how dreamy he is.”
Bo rolled her eyes at her brother’s mocking tone, but said nothing.
“You had Tennova in your sights. I can’t believe you let yourself get distracted so easily. You need to quit thinking with your hormones.”
“I am not thinking with my hormones.”
“Well, you need to be careful because the official price on your head just went up again.”
“Why? I haven’t done anything. Not lately.”
“Chatter on the boards mentioned that you were sighted on Cormoran. You know my agreement with the Second Sector. You stay away from the Second Sector and they won’t actively hunt you.”
Bo sighed. “This job just keeps getting better and better.”
“Quit talking. You’ve got company coming in.”
“Reduce gravity on my machine before you go. You’re killing me,” she said. “Edge… Edge?” She muttered a curse.
The double doors opened and shut. Bo glanced at the reflective wall, noting the arrival of three very fit, compact males, humanoid. One appeared to be part Sireevan. Dressed for a workout, something about them set off her internal warning system. The Sireevan looked her over, his round face split in a leering grin. He rubbed one gloved fist into the palm of the other.
Short. Squat. Powerful legs. Long torso. Limited reach. He would go for a weapon first.
Taking her towel, Bo stepped off the cardio machine and out of the higher gee field it generated. She knew better than to settle the towel around her neck where it could be used against her. She wiped the perspiration from her face and arms as she headed towards the weight benches and the free weights, keeping a cautious eye on the men. Under the towel, her eyes flicked over the contents of the fitness center, taking inventory of potential weapons. Finding what she was looking for, she absently wrapped the towel snugly around her forearm.
One of the men stayed near the door feigning interest in the terms of use agreement posted over the towel rack. The Sireevan and the other man, a slightly taller, leaner humanoid with close-cropped red hair and beard with eyes the same color, leisurely moved to flank her.
It was typical. None of them ever showed any creativity, nor did they deviate from the dance. Any time a group of toughs decided to try to take her out, they always sauntered around, pretending to be casual, and completely by chance, cutting off her escape and trying to blindside her. Just once, she wished they would rush her as soon as they came in the door. It made more sense tactically, but it also would mean a larger attack force. On a positive note, their slow advance gave her a chance to prepare her defense and counter-attack.
Bo picked a light, long-bar weight from the rack and deftly removed the pins holding the weighted disks in place on the bar. Resting her hands lightly on the bar, she waited for the men to make their move. When the Sireevan lunged for her, she snatched up the long-bar and flicked the weighted ends in their direction, flinging the weights at them. The weights hit the deck plates thumping and ringing, scattering the humanoids and changing their angle of attack.
Without waiting for them to regroup, she stepped onto the bench and, taking two steps to the end, leaped into the air. A mid-air flip put her behind them and one step closer to the door. Thankful for the standard gravity aboard the liner, she smiled to herself. Standard Black Wing regimen demanded higher than normal shipboard gravity. That was part of what made the Black Wing pilots so feared. Training hard in heavier gee made movement in standard gee effortless, improving stamina, grace and agility. It gave her an edge over these grounders.
Using the reflective walls, she studied the two men from every angle and monitored her position in the room. She doubted the lookout would move from the door unless his associates needed him, or she made a move to leave.
The Sireevan and the redhead snatched up long-bars and moved to face her. They wielded the bars like sabers. Bo held her bar with both hands across her body. It shortened the reach of the weapon, but it meant a different style of fighting. She’d cut her teeth on Highland Stick Fighting.
The Sireevan advanced on her, swinging the bar down and across his body. Bo ducked under him, using his momentum against him. She landed a series of quick sharp blows on his back, ribs, thigh, shoulders. With a kick, she sent him sprawling on his face.
Turning she dodged and weaved as the redhead swung his bar. She jabbed him hard in the ribs with the end of h
er bar, barely jumping back out of the way to avoid his backswing. While he was still a little off-balance, she moved in again with a rapid-fire series of attacks.
She saw the Sireevan’s advance in the reflective wall. Turning and ducking, she maneuvered behind the redhead, putting him between her and the Sireevan. The Sireevan’s bar came down on his partner’s head with a sickening crunch. The redhead folded in on himself, his eyes open, staring, unseeing.
One down.
Bo stepped lightly around the growing puddle of purple blood pooling under the redhead, her attention on the Sireevan.
Moving deliberately, the Sireevan advanced on her, driving her towards a corner to limit her maneuverability. Bo adjusted her angle of retreat, waiting for him to resume his attack. A sound near the door caught her attention, but she didn’t have a clear view from where she was standing. She watched the Sireevan, waiting for that imperceptible giveaway that he was about to attack. It came with a flaring of the nostrils, a slight curl of his upper lip. He laughed as he struck, believing himself to have the upper hand. She moved forward and stepped to the side at the last moment. Bo brought the sturdy metal bar down on the back of his knee, then followed with a series of blows to his head, face and shoulders.
As the Sireevan fell to the floor, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the reflection of something large and dark moving behind her. In a fluid move, Bo turned and swung her bar. It stopped a hand’s breadth from his temple as he caught it.
Bo froze, noting the fury in her uncle’s amber eyes. His stare flicked past her. Dispassionately, he raised his other hand and fired his palm blaster at the rising Sireevan. The needlebeam caught him in the face and the Sireevan fell facedown onto the deck plates. Bo released her hold on the long-bar and Royce stepped past her. With the toe of his boot, he rolled the Sireevan onto his back. The humanoid’s face was a charred mangled mess. He wouldn’t be getting up again.
“Your brother woke me. Said you needed help.” Royce looked around the fitness center, nodding towards the dead bodies. “Looks like you were managing fine on your own.”