Gabriel looked grim. “Maybe. But just in case, there’s a side alley that exits near a maglev station. We’ll make for that if things go nova.”
“Ever the optimist.”
“Just part of my sunny disposition.”
Partway down the block, next to the alley Gabriel had identified, was the storefront that housed the Rescue office. The space wasn’t large, but the front window showcased a holo-display highlighting the appalling conditions under which slaves were transported and kept. The images weren’t nearly as shocking as they could be, Sam knew. They were sanitized for public consumption. No donor or potential volunteer would want to see what conditions were really like. To see what he had seen, what he knew Rayna had seen, was to have those images seared into your consciousness forever.
“Cheerful bastards, aren’t they,” Sam said as he reached for the door.
Gabriel huffed out a laugh. “Brother, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
The hour was still early, but to the organization’s credit, the office hours etched on the window glass showed Rescue opened early and closed late—and the staff this morning hadn’t slacked. Two young people were at their posts in the outer office, so bright and shiny Sam’s eyes hurt. Along the back wall, doorways led to the offices and meeting rooms at the heart of the organization. Sam wanted beyond those doorways. But he clamped down on his impatience and let Gabriel, who knew the place, take the lead.
The tracker was already leaning on one of the front desks, smiling at the young girl who worked behind it. “Is Sophia Oksana in this morning, agent?”
The girl blushed. “Oh, I’m not an agent. I just volunteer here.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I think that’s admirable.” Gabriel flashed her a grin.
Sam noticed the young man who worked with the girl wasn’t so happy about the conversation. He signaled Gabriel to hurry it up.
“So. The director?”
“Oh!” The girl looked like she’d just woken up from a dream. “Yes, she’s here. And your name, sir?”
“Gabriel Cruz. Tell her I have some information about one of her field agents.”
The girl knew her job; her back straightened and the smile dropped off her face as she hit the comm. “Ms. Oksana, there’s a Gabriel Cruz here to see you. He says he has information about one of our field agents . . . Yes, ma’am.”
She looked up, her eyes gone suddenly cold. “She’ll be right out, Mr. Cruz.”
Gabriel just smiled and nodded as he moved back from her desk, but Sam could feel the drop in temperature as both the young volunteers glared icily at them. Even office workers were aware if someone had “information” about a field agent, chances were they came bearing bad news. Sam didn’t blame them for wanting to kill the messengers.
A center door in the back wall banged open and the director of the Madras Rescue station emerged, but she wasn’t alone. Three husky men backed her up—Sam could only assume they were field agents—and none of them looked happy. Too late he noticed the tiny sensor over the door they’d come through. Security was better than expected in the Rescue office. He and Gabriel stood shoulder to shoulder, and again he waited to see what the tracker’s move would be.
Gabriel merely nodded. “Sophia. Nice to see you again.”
Oksana, tall, dark and unfathomably exotic, favored him with the merest glance. “Under different circumstances I would say the same.” She gestured to the men beside her, who surrounded and put Sam in an armlock. “As it is, you show up in my office with a criminal who has caused my office no end of grief. Are you asking for some kind of reward?”
Sam, struggling against the men who had hold of his arms, missed how it happened. One second Gabriel was standing beside him, the next he was behind the young girl with a stunner to her head. The girl’s eyes were as big as plates.
“Sophia, mi amor. I regret that I’m here for business, not pleasure, today.” Gabriel seemed so relaxed and off-hand that one of the agents took a step in his direction. The tracker shot him and returned the weapon to the girl’s head in a motion so fluid and quick Sam could hardly follow it. The agent writhed on the floor, his nerves on fire.
Gabriel went on. “My friend has information vital to the safety of a Rescue agent active in the field. He’ll share it with you if you guarantee his continued freedom from incarceration. Otherwise we’ll leave this place and your agent will likely die, her mission a failure.”
Sam fought against his captors. What the hell was Gabriel doing? He had to tell Oksana what he knew. She had to believe him. They couldn’t afford to walk out of here without doing what they’d come to do.
“Gabriel!” The man on Sam’s left smashed him in the mouth. He sagged to his knees; the guy had a punch. Somewhere in the air above him he heard Gabriel’s voice: “Trust me, amigo.”
Sam looked up and saw Oksana capitulate. “All right. I’ll listen to what you have to say. Let the girl go—you know you’re not going to hurt her.”
Gabriel loosed his grip—and took an elbow right in the sternum. The girl might have missed his solar plexus by a centimeter.
He backed up, rubbing his chest, a grin creasing his face. “Ouch, little targa.” The girl just scowled at him and adjusted her clothing.
“Let’s go.” Oksana ushered Gabriel, Sam and one of the agents through into the back offices. The other agent stayed behind to tend to their stunned companion. “She wants to be an agent, you know.”
Gabriel rotated his shoulders, working out the soreness in his chest. “She’ll do fine.”
Okasana glanced back at him, and Sam saw a hint of what must have once been between them. “Big baby.”
Gabriel smiled, but said nothing.
The Director led them to a conference room, with a table that took up most of the room and a set of mismatched chairs. A media-projector took up space at one end of the table, a model not unlike the one Sam had onboard the Shadowhawk, meaning it was ancient, but serviceable and projected both flatscreen and holos. Otherwise the room was bare and could use a coat of paint.
They settled in, the agents took up a post at the door, and Okasana got to the point. “Okay—what is it you have to tell me?”
“You’re aware I picked up your agent Rayna Carver while she was undercover aboard the slaver Fleeflek.” Sam’s chest constricted around his heart; this cold recitation of facts made it seem like she was already gone somehow.
Oksana frowned. “Yes, I received a message from onboard your ship. We thought she’d have to give up the mission, thanks to you. But a few days later I heard from my agent on LinHo that she’d made it there and was going to go through with it.”
“She did go through with it.” Sam refused to think about what that meant for Ray. It had been her job, her choice. “We made the contact with Daniel, and he took her in to the Kinz facility. Then I ran into someone who wanted to settle an old score. Before Gabriel saved my ass I learned that the two Thrane spies who tried to sabotage my ship while Ray was aboard—the ones who had also been undercover on the Fleeflek—were working for the Minertsan government. They’re planning to blow up the Kinz factory. Personally I don’t care what the fucking Grays do to each other. But we have to get Rayna out of that factory before they do it.”
Oksana folded her arms over her chest. “And how, exactly, did you pick up this unlikely information? Seems like we’re missing a few details from your account, Captain.”
“Look, I don’t have the time to walk you through this.” In his frustration, Sam got up out of his seat; the agents at the door reached for the stunners inside their jackets. Oksana waved them off, but Sam stayed on his feet. “I heard this directly from Teliath of Paradon, during . . . negotiations . . . of which I was an unwilling part. The negotiations failed, and we came on to Madras, where Gabriel found me.”
“Teliath.” The Director spat out the name like it tasted bad. “Did he say how he’d come by what otherwise would be knowledge of a highly classified nature?”
Sam grinned
in satisfaction. “My Shadowhawk beat the hell out of that Gray ship before we parted ways. The Grays were forced to seek repairs on Paradon.”
“Where, apparently, the Thranes made no secret of their mission?” Oksana’s face was a picture of skepticism. “Why do I find this hard to believe?”
“Teliath is a very persuasive host, querida,” Gabriel explained. “Drugs, alcohol, sex, food, gambling. He finds his guests’ weaknesses and exploits them ruthlessly. No doubt he found a way to loosen the Thranes’ tongues like everyone else’s.”
Oksana turned her deep brown eyes on the tracker. “You think this is a credible threat?”
“I wouldn’t be here—risking my friend’s life—otherwise.”
Seconds ticked by in the silent room while the Director considered her next move. Then, “Very well.” She reached for one of several datapads scattered on the table. “I’m sending our agent on LinHo a message to shut down the Kinz operation immediately. He’ll extract our agents in the facility, and we’ll find a way to warn the factory operators to avoid loss of life. Damn it!” She pinched the bridge of her nose with two delicate fingers. “Do you know how long we’ve worked to set up this operation?”
Anger flared in Sam’s chest, and he took a step in her direction. The boys at the door jumped. He saw Gabriel tense, ready to back him up, but he wasn’t going to make that play. He’d gotten what he wanted.
Still, he had a thing or two to say to Ms. Sophia Oksana, Director of the Interstellar Council for Abolition and Rescue/Madras. “Do you know how close you’ve come to losing Rayna in the last tendays? You’ve worked together for years, maybe you’ve been friends—does she not matter to you at all? I tell you she could be blown to pieces any day—literally any moment—and all you can think about is the mission?” Beautiful or not, the woman was an unfeeling bitch. “You can care for the millions out there, but you can’t care for your own. My girl needs another job.”
Oksana humphed up at him. “What, playmate to a blackjack?”
“If I didn’t need you to send that message right now, I’d show you how a blackjack treats someone who disrespects his woman.” Sam’s hands curled into fists at his side; his voice dropped into a growl. “Send it. And tell Daniel the Shadowhawk will be there in two days to pick Rayna up. It’ll be her decision where we go after that.”
All around them the crew of the Shadowhawk celebrated with wild abandon, dancing to what passed for music in this mishmash of young, multicultural men and women, drinking to excess, hunting for partners for the night. Rayna and Sam stood off to the side of the surging mob. Even they had had a little too much to drink. Rayna figured they all deserved it.
“We really kicked some Gray ass today, huh, Cap?” It was Javin Darto, with a huge, grog-fueled grin on his face and a sturdy young woman—she was new to the crew—tucked protectively under one arm.
“That was mostly you doing the kicking, Javin.” Sam grinned back at him. “If pirate ships had commendations . . .”
“You’d give me one! Heard that one before, Cap! I’ll settle for my share of the loot.”
“Should be a big haul this time,” Rayna told him. “Rescue’s letting us keep whatever we can carry from the liberated estate.”
“Gods bless ’em! Who knew going legit could pay so well?” He lifted his mug in the direction of his captain and wandered back into the crowd.
“I’ve had about enough of all this public celebration.” Sam’s words washed across her ear on a whisper of warm breath. Rayna shivered. “Let’s go back to the cabin.”
She turned to see the light in his eyes and smiled. It wasn’t in her to resist.
They made their way back to the captain’s cabin through empty corridors, the occasional cat or security crew member the only soul they met. Rayna tried to think back to a time when every centimeter of the ’hawk had not been familiar to her, when the man at her side had been a stranger, when she’d been so lost and alone she hadn’t even known it. But the memory was distant, dim. This was home now. Here, with Sam.
The cabin door slid open for them, and Sam pulled her inside. The hatch had barely closed behind them before he picked her up, grasping the backs of her thighs in warm hands. Rayna wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and brought her lips to his. His kiss tasted of drunken cherries, his tongue tangling with hers, his heat igniting hers. He pulled her into his body, and the hard length of his erection found the swelling flesh between her legs. She ground against him with a moan.
When he broke off to trail fiery kisses down her throat, she finally found her voice. “Do you think maybe we could take our clothes off and do this on the bed, sweets?”
The room abruptly tilted, and she found herself on her back on the bunk. With a grin, Sam straddled her hips and stripped off his shirt. She laughed back at him in delight, her heart thumping as she spread her hands to caress the broad chest with its sprinkling of dark hair in the center, the flat, rippling stomach, the bulge just below the waistline where other treasures lay still hidden. While she explored, he unzipped her top to expose her breasts, wrapped in a lacy red bra she’d chosen just for him. She smiled at his growl of appreciation. Some purchases were worth the trouble.
She sat up to slip out of her top and let him do the honors with the bra. He took his time, lowering the straps and bestowing kisses to the collarbones underneath, removing the scrap of lace and cupping her breasts one after the other to bring them to his mouth. Her nipples peaked under his attention, and the ache between her legs became a throb of need. Her hands reached for his zipper and released him from his confinement. She squeezed the broad head and stroked down the hard shaft until Sam groaned in sweet agony. Desire burned in her body in response.
She lay back and pulled him with her, wanting only to feel him deep inside. He kissed her, hungry and hot, his tongue bringing the taste of passion and unquenchable love. His hand slipped inside her pants, to a core that had become molten with need. His fingers drew circles around a clit swollen tight with want.
She broke off the kiss, impatient for him, moaned his name, unable to wait. He rose over her and tugged the rest of her clothes, and his, off. And, at last, he settled between her thighs and pushed inside, slowly, one delicious centimeter at a time, until he was seated deep, so deep, in her throbbing heart. She couldn’t breathe. Oh, God! She couldn’t move. Every cell in her body waited for him to give her what she needed so desperately.
And when he began to move, withdrawing his length to thrust deep inside again, over and over again, she felt the wave building, building. From her burning core to her heated skin she felt it overtake her until there was no escaping it. The pleasure crashed over her, core spasming, muscles clenching, heart hammering. She screamed, clinging to him, begging for more even as the sensations tore her apart and he pounded into her hard, harder for an endless time.
But he was only human; they were only human. She heard the rumbling groan that was his alone, felt him tense and the hot, pulsing release of his seed as he came, felt the aftershock of tenderness for him as she held him. She felt everything so deeply and yet she knew . . .
. . . it wasn’t real. Rayna woke from the dream of a life she knew she could never have to the reality of a cold, dark cell. At this hour the only light came from the window in the door, 15 centimeters on a side, which let a hint of the outside world into the cell. It would be some time yet before “daylight” in the domes of LinHo, when the lights inside the cell would come on, a routine that spared prisoners’ eyes and made them fit for work when they came out of Solitary. Rayna preferred this time, these hours in the dark, when she could hide inside herself and dream.
“Ray!” The urgent whisper came not from outside the window, which was solid amberglas, but from the food slot at the base of the door. A quick knock followed.
She scrambled off the cot to the floor. “Is that you, Lainie?”
The slot shot back and a face appeared in the small space. “Yeah. We have to talk.�
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“How the hell did you get in here?” Okay, the systems were computer-run, but someone was monitoring them. And just thinking of all the security checks the girl would have had to go through to get here made Rayna’s heart pound.
“When we left you here, Neko gave me a bypass code for the thumbprint access—you know, in case it’s not working, which apparently happens all the time. The rest was too easy. I should have been sneaking out of the barracks all this time—for extra food and stuff. I’m definitely gonna do that from now on.”
Rayna blew out a breath in exasperation. “No, you’re not. Why are you here, Lainie?”
“Because Neko’s disappeared. I haven’t seen him since he put you in here. Wasn’t this supposed to be temporary?”
Apprehension clutched at Rayna’s chest. The guard could have extra duties in the aftermath of Zetana’s death. He could be avoiding making contact with Lainie. There could be any number of reasons why she hadn’t seen him, other than the most likely one—that Zetana’s mate had found him and slit his throat.
“What are people saying about the murder? Guards still looking for the killer?”
“No. Neko planted the knife on a lowlife who’d already killed a few other people. They executed him this afternoon—uh, that would be yesterday afternoon.”
So I should be out of here. “You’ve heard nothing about the Thrane.”
“He went crazy on the factory floor and was taken to the infirmary. I haven’t heard anything since then.”
“But that makes no sense.” Until suddenly it did. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place with a deadening thud. “Shit.”
Lainie stared through the slot at her. “What?”
“Neko was supposed to tell his boss that the Thrane was a spy. It would have been cake to remove him from the infirmary—they would probably have locked him up here.” Rayna ground her teeth. “But I don’t see him here, and Neko has disappeared. That means someone at the top is working with the Thrane, and we can assume Neko is dead.”
Fools Rush In (The Interstellar Rescue Series Book 3) Page 25