by JC Cassels
It slowly dawned on her that his breathing had changed. Subtle tension replaced sleepy relaxation. Self-consciously, she pulled her hand away, aware that his arm around her waist still trapped her against him. True to his word, he still lay on top of the covers. He shifted his position behind her and the bed shook. His fingers traced her arm and slipped into the palm of her hand. He lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss into her palm. The coarse stubble of his whiskers scratched her skin, in contrast to his soft lips. Every muscle in her abdomen clenched at his touch. Her hips shifted of their own volition under the covers. She rolled over to face him and sensed him looming over her.
“You’re very tactile, aren’t you?” It was a rhetorical question. He pressed her hand against his cheek. “Go ahead, love. Touch anything you want. I won’t move.”
Bo’s breath caught. She sensed the tightly leashed strength in him. Could she trust him to maintain the control he promised?
Of course, she could. Hadn’t he already demonstrated his self-control?
He released her hand and braced himself over her, careful not to touch her.
Ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, Bo used both hands and ran her fingertips lightly over his face, memorizing the curve of his brow, and finding the tiny imperfections on the bridge of his nose that could only come from having been broken and repaired. Her fingers traced the narrow planes of his rough cheek to the sharp jaw line that led to a strong chin with a faint indentation in the middle. Bo frowned. She didn’t remember him having any kind of a cleft in his chin.
“You were wearing facial prosthetics as part of being Darien Roarke?”
Underneath her fingertips, a grin split his face. Dimples.
“I was,” he said. “What other differences can you find?”
“Let’s see…” Emboldened by his question, her fingers traced his forehead, his brow line and his eyes. “What color are your eyes?”
“Blue.”
“How blue?”
He chuckled. “More of a dark gray.”
“Like bluestone?” Unbidden, the deep bluish gray cliff faces of the Bluestone Valley in the Gallis Highlands of her home came to her mind.
He nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I guess. Like bluestone.” He patiently held still while her fingers roamed over his face. “You like that idea, do you?”
Bo smiled. She relaxed and started to enjoy herself.
“I suppose I do,” she said. “Which means if you’ve lied to me, I’m going to be very disappointed.”
Her fingers laced through his hair as he laughed. “Your hair is different.”
“In what way?”
“Longer,” she said. “This is a different style… a completely different cut. The black hair isn’t yours either?”
“No.”
“What color… no wait. You’re blond like your brother, right?”
“Good guess.”
Bo’s lips twisted in annoyance. “That’s not an answer.”
“You are correct,” he said. “Mine is a little lighter than his.”
She was already running her hands along his neck. She’d wanted to trace the corded muscles there ever since she watched him drink that Shockwave in the embarkation lounge. Her fingers traveled lower, following broad shoulders that felt like flesh over molded fuseform. It was all there, every muscle group, clearly defined, solid perfection. When her hands traveled along his arms, Bo swallowed hard.
“Holy Maker,” she said softly, marveling at his upper body strength. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized that he’d been holding himself over her, elbows slightly bent, the bulk of his weight on his hands, with no sign of strain.
“Are you showing off for me?”
“A little,” he said. “Is it working?”
Unable to form a reply, she nodded.
“A little,” she croaked at last.
Bo ran her hands along his arms. At that moment she would have given away her title in exchange for a clear look at this man’s body.
Her face heated at the thought, and he chuckled as she buried her face in her hands with a self-conscious groan.
“Come on,” he said. “You’re not giving up now? You’ve barely laid hands on me.”
Bo shook her head. “I can’t.”
He slowly lowered himself down on top of her, propping himself up on his elbows. With one hand, he gently pulled her hands away from her face.
“Did you have fun?”
She started to deny it, but couldn’t. It had been fun. Reluctantly, she nodded. “Yes. I did.”
“You know… you didn’t even get to the good bits,” he said with mock seriousness.
He didn’t have to explain himself. The thought of where he’d been willing to let her go sent a fresh wave of color into her cheeks.
He laughed as she tried to hide her face again.
“I was talking about my abs,” he said, rolling onto his side. “I’ve got great abs. What were you thinking?”
With another little distressed moan, she buried her face against his shoulder.
“It’s only fair, love,” he assured her. “I’ve had my hands all over you, too. Bathing you was the only way to get rid of all the ditoxicin.”
“You need to quit before that trizian you keep giving me makes my bones go all gooey again.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m weaning you from it. I’ve been cutting back your dosage. I don’t think we’ll have any repeats of last night.”
“You know, you could have done anything you wanted to me and I couldn’t have… I wouldn’t have stopped you.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you? You said you’re not a gentleman.”
He didn’t answer for a long moment as he pondered the question.
“That’s a complicated question,” he said at last with a chuckle.
Bo waited patiently for him to continue.
“No help on this, huh?”
She shook her head.
“I’m having too much fun.”
“What do you mean?”
“Fun. Do you need me to define it for you? I know you said you don’t have a lot of experience with it…”
“No… I – I know what fun is.”
“If all I wanted was to get my rocks off, I’d have done it and moved on already. I can get that from any willing female. Right now, I’m having a hell of a lot of fun letting you tease me.”
“But I’m not trying to tease you.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so damn much fun.”
A two-note melody saved Bo from having to respond. He tensed beside her.
“What’s wrong?”
“That’s the door. It’s a little early for Chase to be stopping by.”
The bed dipped and shook as he slipped away from her. She heard the unmistakable rasp of metal sliding against hard leather that could only mean he’d drawn his sidearm. Bo sat up and reached for the covers.
“Stay put!”
Responding to the authority in his voice, she hesitated. Everything in her screamed for her to get out of the bed and find cover. Straining to listen for some footstep, or rustle of clothing, she couldn’t tell where he had gone. She grabbed fistfuls of the bedding and forced down the independent streak that silently screamed at her to run, seek cover, arm herself. For the first time she realized he had taken her weapons, and she had no idea what he’d done with them.
The door hissed open, loud in the silence. Bo sat still and quiet, afraid to breathe or move, straining to make out any sounds that would tell her what was going on.
“Darien… sir… it’s Chase Fossey. I’m alone and I’m not armed. May I come in?”
Silence greeted his answer.
Bo didn’t need a visual to know that Chase had a blaster to his head. She would have liked to have known where her flyboy went.
“Marissa, it’s Chase Fossey. Is Mister Roarke here?”
Realizing that she was plainly visible from the door, she unde
rstood why he hadn’t wanted her to move. She was his diversion. Taking her cue. Bo shook her head. “No, Mister Fossey. He stepped out a while ago, but he should be back shortly if you’d like to come in and wait for him.”
“That won’t be…” Chase made a choked sound from the door way and she heard rustling and heavy movement from the door…two large men…one of them Chase. “Thank you, don’t mind if I do.”
Slipping into character, Bo tossed the covers aside and gracefully swung her legs over the side of the bed in a practiced move designed to draw the attention of any unsuspecting male of a mind to appreciate the female anatomy.
“You’ll excuse me for not getting up to answer the door,” she said. “Ever since my injury I’ve been confined to bed for the most part.”
Bo came to her feet without assistance, focusing on staying upright. Her head still swam, causing her to sway unsteadily.
The door hissed shut again. When it did, fist thumped flesh. Someone grunted. Furniture rattled and hit the floor. Large, unfamiliar hands closed over her arms and shoved her unceremoniously into the lav.
“Lock the door.” Chase said.
The door slid shut and he was gone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Of everyone who could have come through that door with his brother, Royce Barron was the last person Blade expected to see. He had to hand it to him, though. For a man of his age, he handled himself well. His reputation was much-deserved.
A well-aimed kick sent Blade tumbling back over the overstuffed chair, knocking it over. He landed hard on his shoulder on the other side of the chair.
Who was he kidding? This old guy was kicking his ass!
“Forget it kid. I trained with the guys who taught you these moves.”
Blade pulled himself up, using the chair just as Chase launched himself at the other man.
“Chase, NO!”
Blade reached out to stop his brother’s charge, but too late. By the time Blade climbed to his feet and took two steps, Royce had Chase subdued and in a headlock.
“Back off, pretty boy,” the older man warned. “I’ll break his neck.”
“You’re a Predator,” Blade said.
“No shit. I thought you were supposed to be one, too… or do you just play one in a holofeature?”
Blade tried not to focus on his brother, whose head was turning various shades of purple as he struggled to breathe.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you have a nice cover, Devon, but it’s not impenetrable. I want my Joy Babe back or I’ll kill your brother and take her.”
His mind racing to put all the pieces together, Blade stalled for time. “Why don’t you ask her what she wants you to do?”
Royce’s eyes narrowed as he weighed his options. “What are you getting at?”
Blade held his hands carefully out to his sides. “Just that I don’t think she’d be very happy with you if you kill him, or me.” He smiled.
The other man applied pressure to Chase, drawing a small noise from him.
“You don’t want her unhappy, do you?” It took all of Blade’s self-control not to show any emotion. “You know who I am. I know who you are. My brother doesn’t know shit. Why don’t you let him go so you and I can talk business with the lady?”
“What kind of business?”
“There are some things about this job that don’t add up.”
“Like what?”
Blade nodded towards his brother. “Let him go while he can still leave under his own power.”
“Give me a taste of what you’ve got, then I’ll make up my mind.”
“Fair enough. Every IC agent here has some kind of court-martial offense on his record. Don’t you find that a bit suspect?”
“You included?” Royce asked.
Blade nodded. “I’m guessing you do, too. The difference between us and these other agents is that it’s not going to make one bit of difference to my career one way or another. I’m guessing yours is the same?”
Royce studied him a long moment before he abruptly released Chase and shoved him at Blade. “Congratulations, kid, you got my attention.”
Blade caught his brother and steadied him until he regained his breath, but he didn’t take his eyes off Royce Barron.
“Chase, I need you to go back to your stateroom and wait until you hear from me.”
Leaning heavily on him, Chase shook his head. “No, I’m not…”
“I’ll be fine,” Blade said. “This gentleman and I have an understanding.”
Giving him a dubious look, Chase slowly straightened. “Fine,” he said, still breathing heavily. “I’ll just get Marissa…”
Blade cut him off. “The girl stays here.”
“But…”
“You heard him,” Royce said. “The girl stays.”
“Trust me.” Blade offered his brother a reassuring smile. “Go. I’ve got a little negotiating to do. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Reluctance in every line of his posture, Chase slowly headed for the door. Neither man moved until the door whispered shut behind him.
“You don’t want your brother to know who she is.”
Blade shook his head. “He’s safer thinking she’s just a Joy Babe.” He gestured towards the chair lying on its side. “Have a seat. I’ll go get her for you.”
Royce braced his fists on his hips. “I’ll stand, thanks.”
The light on the panel beside the door to the lav showed red. His lips twitched. She’d managed to secure the door. He keyed the intercom.
“It’s me, love. Can you open the door?”
“Did I get it locked, then?”
He smiled. “Yes, you did. Can you unlock it, or do you need me to do it?”
“I can do it. Switch off the com and I’ll unlock it.”
Blade glanced over at Royce and found a small look of mild amusement on his face as well. He switched off the com. In just a few seconds, the red light winked out and the door slid open.
She stood just inside the door, her head canted to one side, listening. “Flyboy?”
“I’m here.”
With a small cry, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. He gathered her close, all too aware of her uncle watching his every move.
“Are you hurt? What happened? Is Chase alright?”
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply of her. “He’s fine. It was all a misunderstanding,” he said. He nudged her back into the lav. “I need to talk with you.”
Before Royce could move, the door slid shut behind them and Blade secured it.
She lifted her face and her brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you trust me?”
Without hesitation, she nodded. “With my life.”
Taking a deep breath, he glanced over at the door and backed her into the counter, lifting her onto it. He gently cupped her face in his hands. “Last night after you passed out, I found out who you are.”
The color drained from her face and she grew still.
“I need the truth, love. What do you intend to do with the phase weapon?”
She started to shake her head, but his hold on her tightened.
“Don’t give me the shit about just helping your uncle on his mission, Barron. Please. Be honest with me. We both have a lot riding on this.”
“They… they have my father.”
“Your father?”
“My father’s been in medical stasis since I was twelve. He’s got a debilitating disease and…”
“Someone took your father’s stasis pod and they’ve promised to return it, and him, if you personally deliver the schematics.”
She nodded.
He blew out his breath in a huff and kissed her forehead before gathering her into his arms.
“Thank you. It’s the first thing about this whole stupid mission that makes any sense at all.”
The pieces fell into place and the picture they revealed only brou
ght more questions, but at least he knew where to start looking for the answers now.
The door to the lav slid open with a hiss. Blade glanced up at a very angry Royce Barron in the doorway.
“Oh, and your uncle is here to rescue you from my evil clutches,” Blade said softly.
She lifted her head with a grin. “Your what?” she laughed.
He shrugged. “Look at it from his point of view. I kidnapped and drugged you. I’ve kept you locked away in my stateroom for days performing all kinds of illegal medical experiments on you and sullying your virtue every chance I got. I’m telling you, these clutches are evil.”
“So you keep insisting,” she chuckled.
Her uncle studied her, taking in her bare feet and legs, Blade’s shirt and the bandages on her face. “Bo?”
In no apparent hurry to move from her perch on the counter, she snuggled closer to him. “I’m fine, Royce.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve got a screwy definition of fine, young lady. Have you seen yourself lately? Oh wait, you can’t because you’ve got bandages all over your face.”
“It looks worse than it is,” she assured him.
Blade helped her off the counter and with his arm around her shoulders, steadied her.
“Darien has taken very good care of me, I promise.”
“His name isn’t Darien…”
“I know that,” she said with quiet authority, “and while I’m sure you and our intel know what his name is, you’ll keep it to yourselves. He’ll tell me when he’s ready and that’s good enough for me. Got it?”
A little surprised at her attitude, Blade looked to Royce for his reaction. The older man’s face was impassive, but the dark promise in his eyes was a thing of lethal beauty. Blade had no doubt that if he hurt her, there would be hell to pay and Royce Barron would be the one collecting.
“Yes, Barron,” Royce said.