Without looking at either of them to see if they noticed—how could they not?—she pulled at the clasp. It wouldn’t release. Frustrated and a second from collapsing in a torrent of self-pitying sobs, she grasped the straps and tugged hard.
“You’re only making it tighter, Dani. Stop.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” she shrieked, losing control.
Long fingers moved her hands aside.
“Don’t touch me.” Her words came out in a hiss as she smacked Jaylin’s hands away.
“Sweetheart, let me help you.”
She stopped, realizing Malik leaned over her, and he was the one she had slapped. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
“It’s okay.”
He easily opened the latch and would have helped more, but she shrugged out of the harness and surged to her feet. With her eyes averted, she bolted to the lift, waving her hand over the sensor. When it didn’t come fast enough, she waved it again, and again. Knowing it wouldn’t make the unit arrive any sooner, it at least gave her something to do.
Hands on her shoulders made her tense.
“You don’t need to escort me down. I can find my own way.”
“He gave me orders, same as you.”
“And you’re his minion, so you always obey?” she shot back, lashing out at him angrily. “He won’t find me as subservient.”
The door opened, and she scurried inside, Malik crowding into the small unit with her. She didn’t look at him or toward the bridge, averting her eyes as the half door closed and they started to move.
“He didn’t mean what he said, like you, he was angry.”
“I hate him.”
“You don’t mean that, either.”
“He makes me furious, and I definitely meant that.”
“Things got heated back there, but think on this. For Jaylin to become volatile, so quickly means he doesn’t hate you, either. Far from it.”
“I want to go home in a week and a half and forget all of this happened.”
“A girl doesn’t save herself for twenty-five years, find a man she trusts enough to gift her innocence to, then practically overnight, want to forget it. Jaylin will realize this when he calms down.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“He can be. He’s also very kind, caring, and extremely protective. I warned you he gets this way when threatened. All he can think of is eliminating the danger and keeping everyone safe, to the exclusion of courtesy, kindness, and pretty redheads whose feelings he otherwise wouldn’t hurt.”
Blinking back frustrated tears, she glanced up at him and asked, “Why are you defending him?”
“I know him. This is his nature. Later, when we’re safely away from whoever is pursuing us, he’ll regret being so harsh and come find you. Wait and see.”
“I won’t hold my breath,” she grumbled. “If I do, I’ll be as blue as Ivar.”
The door opened to the lower level, and she rushed out. She couldn’t outdistance Malik’s long strides, however, and he caught up with her at her bedroom door.
“Dani, let me tell you a little story.”
“I’m not in the mood for fairy tales. And I realized today, I’m much too old to believe in them, anyway.”
“Don’t—”
Emotionally wrecked, she cut him off. “I’m sorry I lashed out. Jaylin deserves my sharp words, not you. And, please, Malik, understand when I say I need to be left alone right now.”
He stared at her a moment, and she thought she saw a flicker of something in his distant eyes, but, if she did, it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Or perhaps in her pique, she’d imagined it.
He inclined his head. “I’ll leave to your thoughts.”
The next moment the doors slid shut and she was alone. And, although she’d lived most of her life that way, she felt the loneliness more completely than ever before.
Chapter Eight
Never one to sulk, despite having a lifetime of reason to, it turned out she had an aptitude for it, staying in her room the rest of the day, brooding over Jaylin’s behavior, and replaying their ugly scene in her head. The only realization Dani came to, when disappointment felt this devastating, it deserved a good pout.
She refused Malik’s invitation for dinner, leaving the tray he brought in untouched. Jaylin obviously didn’t care whether she passed out from starvation, because she didn’t see the first sign of him by the time she crawled into bed. She did so with a bruised heart. Tossing fitfully, it took a long time before she could relax enough to drift off.
It was dark when her eyes popped open again, except for two floor lights bracketing the bathroom and the main door to her quarters. Wide awake, she didn’t feel at all rested. She could have been asleep minutes, or hours, on board ship it was hard to tell because day and night ran together. She rolled to the side in search of a clock, but didn’t get far due to the heavy weight around her middle.
Glancing down, she saw long, broad fingers, neatly trimmed nails, attached to a masculine hand and thick wrist. Following it up a sinewy forearm to biceps which bulged despite his relaxed state. Wanting him after what he’d said and done would be crazy. Next, she tried to imagine why Jaylin thought he would be welcome in her bed.
Steaming with unspent anger, she lifted the heavy arm, made weightier from sleep, and eased out from underneath it. On her feet, she stared down at her nemesis, again struck by how beautiful he truly was. Features softened by sleep, he looked like the man she had developed a fondness for. She’d let him kiss her and take more liberties than any man, ever. But he had morphed into some arrogant, autocratic monster earlier today—or was it yesterday?—and, on top of it, hadn’t so much as blinked when he told Malik he’d plotted a course for Earth and her even more autocratic father.
His motto seemed to be get laid, get paid, and forget both the job and the woman once he was done.
“Big jerk,” she hissed, clapping a hand over her mouth when he stirred.
Holding her breath, she waited for those long lashes to flutter open and his unforgettable silver-eyed gaze to catch her standing over him. Seconds passed and he didn’t move. She counted to ten, then to twenty, before she relaxed, and dropped her hand.
In the silence of her room, on a ship in the middle of the galaxy, she came to a decision. She wasn’t going back, not until she could be free and clear of her father’s control, and all other self-important patronizing men and their authority—like Jaylin Sin-Naysir.
She bent and picked up her shoes, leaving the room before she smacked him for being such a dumbass, and a big fat heartbreaking disappointment as well.
As she crept down the hall, she tiptoed by Malik’s open door. She could see his still form on his bed. She stared at him a moment, watching him breathe, his dark wavy hair mussed and falling over his forehead. He looked so human in sleep. This was something else she found interesting, expecting him to be plugged in, or in some sort of recharging chamber overnight. But she guessed she’d watched too many sci-fi shows.
Shrugging if off, she moved to the lift, abruptly bypassing it when she decided it would make too much noise and wake them. She knotted her shoe strings together, then hung them over her shoulder and quietly climbed the ladder to the upper level.
With the lights from the control console blinking green, yellow and red, and flickering on a host of other equipment lining the perimeter of the circular room, she had plenty of light to explore the bridge level, really taking it in for the first time.
Not as big as the lower floor, windows made up a quarter of the walls of the room, and revealed hundreds of stars in the pervasive blackness. She stared at the view, surprised to see the nebulae they had edged around all afternoon was gone. Searching for something other than stars, she saw nothing. Taking a seat in one of the four flight chairs on the edges of the room, she put on her half boots and laced them tight.
She didn’t know what she was doing up here, except than to be far away from Jaylin.
Dani eyed the co
ntrol console. What she knew about operating a ship of this kind could fit on the head of a pin. She’d ridden in shuttles and gliders countless times back home, and sat beside the pilot more often than not. Always inquisitive, she’d asked about every button and switch and panel, though she didn’t expect a star cruiser like this would be quite the same.
She stood and walked to the bank of maps on the far wall. All lit in a series of blue, green, and red. Earth was the center point of the first screen, and red dots delineated their flight path, the flashing one about midway representing their current position, or so she guessed. Out of curiosity, she touched the screen, and it shifted, zooming in slightly. Like with any other touch screen, she could use two fingers to expand and shrink the view.
After doing this several times, a window opened. With the same flashing red dot in the center, this view brought planets and moons and other large bodies into focus. And, unlike the smaller view, they had labels. Leaning in, she read the names. Only one or two sounded familiar, though didn’t job her memory enough to recall anything particular about those worlds.
As she continued to scroll and shift the screen, a line of yellow dots popped up, then some in green. Unsure what it meant, she looked for a legend, but didn’t find one. She zoomed in on one good-sized planet. When she had it enlarged to double, a text box appeared.
“Nusapphra,” she murmured. “I’ve read something about this one.”
She scrolled past the lengthy physical and scientific descriptions to the section on the inhabitants and culture. There she paused and began reading aloud.
“Settled in 2217, nearly ten thousand refugees from the war-torn planet Sapphra formed an all-female colony. Rich in natural resources the population eschewed fossil fuels in lieu of plant-based energies to establish their fuel-efficient, energy-independent colony.”
Intrigued, she continued. At the end of the summary, she grinned. “Woman president...all female Army...city-state league of governors—all women. Now we’re talking.”
Enlarging it further made a blue box with coordinates pop up. They meant nothing to her, although, underneath was something of interest—a button labeled Travel Time to Destination. She clicked it and read: 12 hours, 35 minutes. She searched for a clock—almost 2 am.
If she changed course now, they would be halfway there before they finished breakfast. She clicked the next button that read Plot Course. A new screen came up with some bulleted details—speed, nearby conflicts, restricted areas, and threats. All in green, the last bullet labeled Warnings was marked None.
A red button located below the box said in bold print, Set New Course.
From a map? No, this was too easy. Her finger itched to press it. Did she dare?
If Jaylin had been angry before, she could imagine what he would be like when he found out she’d changed their course. She laughed softly, picturing the big bad captain of the Renegade dealing with an all-female government who wouldn’t be swayed by his high-handed ways and his arrogance.
Her anger, which had never dissipated, bubbled over. Use her like a loose woman only to toss her away. Screw him. It would serve him right.
She moved her hand over the screen, index finger extended, but she hesitated, hovering over the red triangle that could very well engage the new course. She closed her eyes, wishing she had the nerve, but even she wasn’t so foolish.
A beeping sound made her open her eyes. On the screen in big bold letters appeared “New Course Engaged.” Suddenly a progress bar popped up.
“No! I didn’t press it,” she cried softly. She whirled, staring with dread at the bridge and the two dozen or so more blinking, flashing lights which hadn’t been blinking and flashing moments ago.
“Crap,” she cursed. Spinning back to the map, she looked for an abort button, an arrow back, or an undo... something. There was nothing.
She raced to the command console, stopping beside the pilot’s chair. She searched the panels, slide bars, and buttons for something that appeared to be able to take her back to five minutes ago, but she didn’t recognize anything remotely similar to the shuttles she’d been on.
Looking up at the view screen, she picked out a star, a red one, and watched it. Nothing happened, which gave her hope she hadn’t actually changed course. It was at a map, after all.
She heard a beep, followed by a series of buzzes, and the star began to move—though she knew it was the Renegade doing the actual moving. She’d expected it to happen slowly, which would give her time to go get Malik to undo whatever she had done, but the star shifted and seemed to race across the screen. She felt the rotation of the ship beneath her feet, which she hadn’t before, not in the days she’d been aboard.
Shit! What had she done?
When the controls started to hum, and the floor vibrated, she ran for the lift.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!”
Waking Malik became her prime objective.
The vessel jerked suddenly almost knocking her off her feet. She looked back, expecting to see smoke and flames. All seemed normal, except for the buzzing and flashing lights. Finding the red star took a moment because it now twinkled on the far side of the screen—opposite to where it had started. Her heart leapt into her throat.
“We’ve come around too fast,” she whispered in horror.
An alarm began to scream, and a red button lit up below the control panel. It was on a slide-out drawer all by itself with a plastic cover over it, as if to keep it from being accidentally pushed. It had some strange marking on it.
“Dammit. Isn’t this just my luck when everything else is in AUL?”
Alliance Universal Language was used on all thirty-seven planets. Taught in school, it’s how she could communicate with Jaylin and Malik without a translator, although they both knew a good deal of English—Jaylin’s command of Earth slang and swear words particularly impressive. The intent of AUL, to standardize language across all Alliance planets, to promote communication between worlds and their people, and most important, for use during space travel to prevent barriers in emergency situations like this.
Okay, the last bit was mostly bullshit. Never had it been intended to help an Earth girl who’d accidentally changed course on her rescuer’s alien ship.
Staring at the red light, her throat closed around her heart, still wedged firmly in place. All the shuttles at home had a similar button, an emergency shutdown in case of an engine fire. Did she risk the assumption alien ships were equipped the same way? If she hit it, and it worked, she could run and fetch Malik.
Except what if she gambled, and lost?
She moved forward, her hand extended, hovered over it for a second then she snatched it back, vacillating whether to do it or not.
Do it, a little voice told her. If you don’t correct what you started, Angry Alpha Captain is going to be up here in ten seconds, ready to beat your ass.
The decision was made for her when something hissed and a little ribbon of smoke started rolling up from the center panel. Figuring her fate had been sealed either way, she flipped up the plastic cover, squinched her eyes tight and, while holding her breath, pushed it. Then she prayed.
Before she uttered the words Dear God, her ass hit the floor. Shocked, she could only stare at the spot where she had stood and the thick cloud of smoke now billowing out of one of the seams around a screen with a shower of sparks.
“Mother of God, help me,” she whispered. Rolling to her stomach and onto her hands and knees, she scanned for a way to extinguish the fire. After a moment, and coming up with nothing, she screamed in frustration, “How can they not have a fire extinguisher?”
With the alarm still shrieking, the ship began to shimmy, and emitted a loud ka-thunk. Climbing to her feet, she spied one of the men’s jackets draped over one of the chairs. Snatching it, she swatted at the flames, hoping she hadn’t signed their death warrants with her stupidity.
As she tried to contain the fire, the auto-lift behind her creaked. She couldn’t abandon the fire,
and take the time to see who it was.
Please, please, please, let it be Malik.
Her luck—always bad since the day she’d come into the world—failed her again.
“Daniella!” Jaylin’s roar eclipsed the pounding of his boots and all the alarms combined. “What the fuck have you done to my ship?”
“Does it matter, right now? We’re on fire,” she screeched.
But his question, apparently rhetorical, didn’t require an answer. His hands encircled her waist and he lifted her, bodily moving her out of his way. Then he hit a yellow button on the wall which made the lights dim and the console blink off. Next, he bent and retrieved a fire extinguisher from a low cupboard nearby—one she hadn’t seen. He aimed it at the console, and, after dispensing a cloud of an orange powdery substance, the fire was out.
For a moment, he stood still, his shoulders back, and his spine rigid as if forged in steel.
“You better run and hide if you know what’s good for you,” Malik whispered in her ear.
She jumped, not having heard him come up in the commotion. Taking his advice, she whirled, following a direct path to the lift. The only trouble, Jaylin had finished perusing the mess she’d made. His glare hit her like daggers piercing her skin. With a sudden change of plans, she veered right, toward the ladder.
Four feet from the round hole in the floor, and ready to dive head first through it, his roar stopped her in her tracks.
“Don’t you dare take another step,” he bellowed.
She chanced a glance back and saw his utterly livid face, eyes glittering with fury, nostrils flared. His mouth a thin slash in his bearded face—something new from the day before—and his jaw was held so tight she thought it might break.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
His hand came up, palm out. Wisely, she remained silent.
When he spoke again, long moments later, his voice held an icy chill. “I’m too furious to even ask what the hell you were doing up here in the middle of the night. But it doesn’t matter. There is no excuse for this.” He swept his arm toward the destruction.
The Renegades' Reward Page 11