Murphy leaned in closer. In spite of herself, Rayna inhaled and took him in. God, he smelled good—like . . . the first breath of fresh air dirtside after months on a ship. For a second she was lost, drifting as surely as if she had let go of her mooring on the hull.
“This is my ship, Little Bit.” His voice was a seductive purr. “You need permission for everything.”
Heat flashed from the top of her head to the bottoms of her feet. She meant to shout, but her voice came out in a matching sultry whisper. “Why you puffed up, self-righteous, arrogant—”
The beep of his comm interrupted her tirade. He held up a finger to put her on pause. “Chen? Anything in your sections?”
He listened. She couldn’t hear what was being said.
“Roger that. I’ve got a little complication here in Section 4. I’ll take care of it and meet you in the aft quarter.”
Rayna got her hormones in check and started over. “Control seems to be your middle name, Murphy. Well, let me tell you something: I joined Rescue because Independence is mine.”
“Do I have to remind you you’re a guest on my ship?” His expression had tightened into a smoky scowl. “The one place I have plenty of room onboard is the brig—maybe you’d like accommodations there.” His eyes held hers like he meant it, but a muscle jumped in his jaw. His tell, she realized. He wanted something quite different for her. That heat flashed through her once again, and this time she was certain it had nothing to do with anger.
Damn it.
“All right, yeah, I saw the big ‘Keep Out’ signs. But every other square centimeter of space on this tug is occupied. I needed a workout, and zero G is a good place to get started. I didn’t think anyone would be back here.”
His expressive face changed yet again, the hard lines around his mouth and eyes going soft as the tension drained from him. “Any day but today you’d have been right.”
“What’s different about today?”
He scanned the empty hull space before he answered. “The ship’s on lockdown; we still haven’t found the Sickbay assassin. We’ve had reports of unauthorized activity in the hull space, starboard side. I’ve ordered a full security sweep.”
Understanding dawned. All that bluster was because Murphy was feeling protective. She looked up at him and, yep, there it was, shining from those green eyes, despite his stern refusal to smile.
But just because her body responded instantly with warm anticipation didn’t mean her mind should be onboard with this program. Seriously, how would it ever work between them? He was a pirate, for chrissake. According to him, she was an interfering bleeding heart. The only thing they had in common was a disregard for authority, and they would never even agree on the reasons for that.
Oh, but, damn, he smelled so good. He kept floating closer, and she was so tired. She wanted to let go and settle into those arms.
“You miscalculated.” His arm was around her shoulders again, his lips against her ear.
“What do you mean?” Her protest came out in a breathy murmur.
“You’re exhausted. You weren’t ready for this much exertion.” He was so close, so warm, encouraging her to let go. “I bet you didn’t ask Doc Berta for permission either.”
She finally gave up and transferred her hold to him, arms and legs wrapping around his hard body. He hooked both feet around the handholds below them, anchored one hand and used the other to clasp her to him; she was so small in comparison, his arm stretched all the way across her lower back.
She looked up at him, lips inches from his. “I don’t ask for permission for anything.”
He made a low sound of amusement, then he gave her what she wanted, just a brief, warm touch at first, a brush of his firm lips across hers, but it was enough to send a thrill of electric sensation through her chest. She gasped, even as he pulled her closer and stroked into her mouth, his tongue tangling with hers. The way he felt, so smooth and hot, the way he tasted, like dark cherries, the way his arm curled around her back like he would never let her go, every detail was clear in her mind. Still she was gone, as if he had somehow turned off her rational mind and allowed her access only to the more primitive part of her brain, the part that wanted to take this kiss to a place where they were both naked and straining toward climax.
She knew it couldn’t happen—could it? A moment ago they’d been arguing. But, God, the way he held her, the way he was kissing her, set every nerve-ending on fire. She tilted her hips and settled herself over the hard ridge of his erection. With a groan, he pressed her closer, sending a spike of need straight through to her core.
In desperation she broke off the kiss. “What is it about you?” As she spoke his lips were at her throat, nuzzling his way down to her shoulder. “You drive me crazy.”
“The feeling’s mutual. And I’m damned if I understand it.” He turned and backed her gently against the hull wall, caging her in with arms on either side of her. His gaze captured hers. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Her hands fisted in the heavy fabric of his deck jacket. “Stop, then.”
His eyes went suddenly dark, and he bent to take her lips again. But this was no tentative tasting, no gentle exploration. His hands framed her head as his tongue plunged into her mouth, insistent, demanding, fiery and sweet.
Need grew and throbbed deep in her belly. Heat flared and swelled between her legs. Somewhere in the rational part of her brain, she knew this had gone too far, but she never wanted it to stop. She wanted him to use that talented tongue to make her come. She wanted to ride what she felt pressing against her thigh until they both lost their minds. She wanted to forget everything except what existed between them, here in this weightless space, in this timeless moment.
One level up, clinging like a cliff-gripper to the side of a recycling tank, Zetana Be-Kor watched the lovers and cursed her bad luck. There, but for the turn of fortune, but for the merest glance of a god’s eye, was her own sweet plan in action. She should have been the one seducing the handsome captain of the ship, whispering in his ear that LinHo was worth a stop. Instead the human bitch was twined around his muscular body like a mer vine, while she’d been forced to hide behind the stinking slop tanks for days, dodging Security to meet with her team, to communicate with the outside, even to eat or use the facilities.
Her bondmate was a comforting presence in her mind. Don’t worry, k’taama. The little slut is probably whispering nothing more interesting than “Fuck me!” in the captain’s ear.
She glanced at Rexus Kor, grinning darkly at her from his position just above. He was a handsome man, from one of the most powerful houses on Thrane, but he was not the most intelligent partner in their pairing. This thought she shielded from him.
--The point is, my love, she’s gotten there first. She’s attracted the captain’s interest, and she’s managed to be in the right place at the wrong time more than once.
He shrugged. She may have led to Falla’s capture, but he said nothing before you ended him. His death ensures the others’ silence. How can she be a threat to us?
--You can’t see that she’s closing off another avenue of escape for us as we watch? We have no alternative now but to contact the Tifan for pickup.
--The Minertsans will not be pleased.
--And we will have to find another way in to the Kinz factory. Zetana returned her regard to the couple below. But this scrap of trouble—who is she?
--ConSys Intel, perhaps? Her mate was bored with the discussion. His disinterest came through clearly.
--Possibly. If she was onboard the Fleeflek with us she could have had the same goal: to infiltrate the Kinz facility. I imagine the Confederated Systems could use their own information from inside that factory.
Rex smirked. They will find the inside is a dangerous place to be soon enough. Once we’ve done what we’ve come to do, our employers can go back to ruling their Empire without looking over their bony little Gray shoulders, and we, my k’taama, can take a long vacation on the t
ourmaline islands of Pinon with our well-earned credits.
--I have every confidence in your special skills, k’taam, but they do us no good if we can’t get ourselves and the team to LinHo as planned. Our “rescue” by the hero down below—she gestured impatiently at Murphy, still fascinated with his little slut’s lips—has put a starfreighter-sized hole in our plans, and all our work has not patched the tear.
Her mate sent a wave of warmth and encouragement along their bond. So send the message to the Tifan, and we can be on LinHo well within our parameters. And besides—the touch of his mind became sensual, erotic, nearly physical—our interfering agent has found a distraction that may serve us well. Why don’t we just enjoy the show?
It was true that Captain Murphy was a legitimate target in his own right, with a price on his head that would make it worth the agent’s trouble. Did Murphy know he was climbing into bed with a fang-eel?
Zetana watched Murphy’s hips move as he pressed the woman up against the wall. No, he didn’t seem to care who she was, and judging from the look of bliss on her face, the seductress had forgotten what she had come to do.
Zetana huffed out a silent laugh. Not very professional. First rule of the game, little agent: don’t let your opponent distract you.
Rex joined her in silent laughter while they watched and made their calculations.
Sweet Jesus, we have to stop! Rayna couldn’t find the breath to speak, but she managed to break off the kiss and shift a small distance away from Sam. This . . . this . . . whatever was between them was too much too fast—and in the wrong place.
Sam looked at her, eyes glazed with desire. He swallowed and seemed to come back to himself.
He gave her a grin. (Did it seem a little shaky?) “Sorry. I seem to have taken what you said as a challenge.”
Rayna pulled back even further. “Let’s consider this skirmish a draw then. Surely you have better things to do.”
He tore his gaze away from hers and scanned the open space around them. “The search . . .”
“You really think he’s here?” She fought her body for focus, trying hard to ignore the throbbing in her veins. “Wouldn’t it have been safer for him to stay hidden in the general population?”
“Lockdown doesn’t suit his agenda. He needs freedom of movement.”
“His agenda?”
But the captain wasn’t sharing that information. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the access hatch.”
“I can help with the search.” Though she felt like a week-old kitten.
“No! This bastard has already killed two men.” He muttered a curse. “Come on, we’ve been here too long.”
Rayna saw his point—their moment of vulnerability could have cost them in more ways than one. She pushed off from the wall in the direction of the bright yellow-and-black-striped access hatch where she’d come in. Sam followed at her four o’clock, head swiveling to catch any movement in the open space between the hulls.
Then she heard it. A scrabble of something—cloth? boots?—against metal between the recycling tanks on the level above them. Evidence of life where there was normally only the hum of machinery and the spark of artificial power. She grabbed a handhold and turned to snag Sam in a close embrace.
“What the hell?” He floundered a second, but he didn’t pull away.
“I heard something.” From underneath his shoulder she scanned the long, unbroken vista of gunmetal gray, black and white. Nothing moved.
Sam slowly turned their bodies so he could look. “What do you see?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. But I could have sworn I heard something up there.” She gathered herself to push off. “I think we should go take a look.”
“Hold on there, Little Bit.” He caught her around the waist. “Think about it,” he said into her ear, as if he had any number of things in mind other than the security of his ship. “He’s watching us. By the time we get up there, he’ll be long gone. I’ll call in a search team from the gravity lock.”
While he spoke he’d been moving them toward the access hatch in a leisurely float. They got inside and dogged the hatch shut at last. The captain hit the button at his throat to call in a Security team.
Gravity yanked at Rayna’s bones as the pressure rose in the tiny chamber to match that of the AG-conditioned ship. She ignored the pain racking her body while she picked at the puzzle in her mind. She put a hand on Sam’s arm as he was speaking to his Security chief.
He paused and raised an eyebrow at her.
“She’s a woman.”
He frowned. “What?”
“The one you’re looking for. The assassin—she’s female. I knew there was something about the way she’d moved that night in Sickbay. She’s tall and muscular—maybe Thrane or Ninoctin—but definitely female. She didn’t move like a guy.”
“If she’s a trained fighter she’d have moved like a fighter. And you weren’t at your best that night.”
She scowled at him. “Maybe. But I’m a trained observer. I know what I’m looking at. The hips are different. The shoulders are different. I’m telling you, you’re looking for a woman, not a man.”
“And this came to you how?”
“Call it intuition—and sometimes I have to move around a little before I can think.”
Sam didn’t laugh or roll his eyes—the usual reactions when she said that—he just nodded and spoke. “Chen. Be aware you may be looking for a female on advice of our witness from that night in Sickbay. Yeah. I’ll check in later.”
He closed the comm and considered Rayna with narrowed eyes, but he said nothing.
The pull of gravity in the chamber now was almost at one G and moving seemed an insurmountable trial. Every muscle felt the strain of her workout, every organ, every nerve, every blood cell. She was dripping with sweat and shaking with fatigue. Her ribs protested with a bright flare of pain, evidence that she’d overestimated her recovery by days, if not a full week.
The light over the exit hatch went green at last. She opened the hatch and tumbled out onto the Auxiliary Maintenance deck in a boneless heap.
Sam followed her with somewhat more grace and squatted down beside her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m whipped.” She couldn’t deny it, so she gave him a thin smile.
Without another word he slipped his arms beneath her and began to lift.
“What?” She struggled, freeing herself from his grip. “Oh, hell no. You are not going to carry me through this ship.” She stood up, wobbling on legs that didn’t seem to agree with her decision. “I can walk.”
The captain stifled a grin. “Suit yourself. But if you fall on your ass, I’m taking you to Sickbay.”
She retrieved a waterpak from the deep side pocket of her jumpsuit and popped the top. She drained it without a pause, grateful for the slide of cool liquid down her throat.
“Probably should’ve done that about half-an-hour ago.” She tossed the container in the nearest recycle bin and turned to see Sam watching her, that grin still threatening to break out on his face.
“Got any more of those?”
She started to reach for another pak. “You thirsty?”
He stopped her with a warm hand on hers, the teasing smile still playing around his lips. “No. I just wanted to watch you drink some more.”
“Hm. Smartass.” How is it she could be pissed at him and amused by him at the same time?
“You need rest. Promise me you’ll go back to your cabin and get some.”
“Right.” She held back a sigh.
“What’s wrong?” His face fell as comprehension dawned. “The new consignment of LO’s from the Fleeflek.”
“Not my sleep shift for another four hours.” She felt like she could drop right where she was. “You wouldn’t know where there’s a nice, quiet piece of decking would you?” Or I could lash myself to the bulkhead in hull space and just float.
He considered her for a second longer. “I know just the place for you.” He led
the way through the echoing Aux. Main. Section to the lift and, once inside, hit the pad for Level Two.
She waved a hand at the controls. “I’m on Five.”
He nodded. “That’s right, you were.”
She started to reach for the pad. He intercepted her hand. What the hell?
She tried again. “I need to get to Five.”
“We’re going to Two. My cabin.”
Her heart started a slow, heavy thudding. “Just because we got a little carried away back there doesn’t mean I’m ready to go to your cabin, Captain. I mean, you could at least ask.”
He turned to her, his grin widening. “Just because we’re going to my cabin doesn’t mean I intend to get carried away once we get there, Ms. Carver. And I’ll ask when I’m good and ready.”
The chime sounded for Level Two and the doors opened to let them off, but Rayna wasn’t going anywhere with Captain HighandMighty. “Ask all you want, Captain, the answer will be no. I’m going to my cabin on Level Five.”
Sam stopped the doors and looked down at her. “Rayna. You don’t have a place to sleep—that’s all I’m offering. I won’t even be here for the next few hours; I have to finish the security sweep of hull space and work off the rest of my duty shift. It’s quiet; it’s comfortable. You need the rest. I don’t mean to imply anything else.”
Rayna felt a hot flush of embarrassment creep from her chest up her throat to her face. Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she couldn’t keep from thinking of how they had felt against hers, how she wanted to taste them again. Maybe she hadn’t been ready for everything sleeping in his cabin implied, but she had been ready for something. She had been more than ready for something. And he wasn’t.
“I’m sorry. I, uh, I shouldn’t have assumed.”
He cocked his head at her. “Maybe you should have. What happened in the Maintenance Bay was . . . out of line. I’m sorry. You don’t have to worry. Come on.”
She followed him off the lift. “Actually, I could really use a little peace and quiet.” She looked up at him. “Thank you.”
He grinned—no, his face lit up like she’d told him he just won a pardon from the ConSys Administrator—and he slid a hand under her elbow to guide her down the corridor. She started to call him on it, but decided to let it go. Her legs had gone wobbly on her again, and she needed the help. They reached his cabin and got inside before anyone saw them—a plus in her book—then it was time to feel awkward.
Fools Rush In (The Interstellar Rescue Series Book 3) Page 8