by Zoe York
Her mouth snapped closed. “I hardly—”
But he was on a roll and wasn’t listening to her. “I knew this treasure hunt was a mistake.”
“It wasn’t my fault that cretin attacked me.”
“You’re trouble. I knew it the first time I saw you swishing through the hallowed halls of the museum in one of your tight skirts.”
She gasped. “My skirts are not tight.” She sniffed. “They’re fitted.”
“Trouble,” he muttered. “That idiot was going to rob you and slit your pretty throat, or worse, sell you to those slavers in the market.”
She made a scoffing noise. “Like I said, not my fault. Besides, I had it under control.”
But Damon had built up a head of steam. “I just wanted a quiet, easy job for my retirement. Museum security, they told me. Just a bunch of artifacts to keep secure. Easy.” His dark eyes flashed at her. “Yet here I am, on this backwater scummy planet, with a princess who thought she could subdue a robber with a smile.”
“Not a smile.”
“No? So how were you going to show the big, bad alien you meant business, then?”
She didn’t telegraph her intent. She just swiped out with her leg, knocking in his knee and sending him off balance.
He regained it far faster than he should have. The man had skills; that was for sure. He grabbed her arms, but she was already moving. A sharp chop to his side had the air whooshing out of his lungs. He expected her to pull back, so she moved in close and jammed her knee to his crotch.
Not hard enough to hurt him, but firm enough he felt it.
His breathing sped up a little. Not as much as she expected from the short, but intense scuffle, but a noticeable change.
“Maybe I underestimated you,” he said quietly.
“And don’t you forget it.” She lowered her leg and pulled away from him.
“I still think you’re a trouble magnet.”
“And I still think you’re an arrogant ass.” She shot him a thin smile. “Guess we’re even.”
He studied her with contemplation on his face. “Who taught you your moves?”
“My brothers.”
“Brothers?”
“My five older brothers.”
Shock registered. “Shit.”
She smiled smugly now. “It gets better. Three are in the Galactic Security Services, one is an Intergalactic marshal and the last is with the planetary police on Maxon Prime.”
Damon made a choking noise. “Princess, you’re lucky you’ve ever had a date.”
She ignored the comment and nodded toward the bar. “So, did you find Brocken Phoenix?”
Damon’s face hardened. “No. And what I found out isn’t very promising.”
“Oh?” Her chest tightened. She didn’t want anything to jeopardize this hunt. “He came recommended.”
“Yeah, sounds like he was a half-decent treasure hunter…before he started drinking. Apparently, he wastes most days drinking in the local bars, he drinks on his hunts, and he’s mean with it.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Dammit.”
“You looking for Phoenix?”
Damon and Lexa both swiveled, Damon moving in front of her in an instant. She scowled at his back before sidestepping around him.
A handsome teenager stood slouched against the whitewashed wall of a nearby building, watching them. He had dark hair in dire need of a cut, as it was falling into his bright-blue eyes, and a lanky body that he was still growing into. But he had the clear markings of making a spectacular man one day. Oh yes, the ladies were going to have to watch out for this one.
He was also sporting a black eye that was slowly turning a sickly green.
“You know Brocken Phoenix?” she asked.
“Yeah.” The young man pushed away from the wall and swaggered over, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his well-worn, brown cargo pants. “You’re after a treasure hunter?”
“We are,” Damon answered, eyeing the boy. “One who knows Zerzura’s ruins very well.”
“Then I’m your man.” He jerked a thumb against his chest. “I was born and raised here. Grew up playing among most of the ruins on Zerzura.”
Damon and Lexa shared a quick glance.
Lexa raised a brow. “And you are?”
“Dathan Phoenix. The best treasure hunter on Zerzura.”
***
Damon liked the boy’s confidence. Or rather, cockiness. It reminded Damon of himself at the same age. He’d needed outsized confidence and swagger to survive on the gang-ridden planet where he’d grown up.
Lexa tilted her head. “I thought Brocken Phoenix was the best treasure hunter on the planet?”
Something hard moved in the boy’s eyes. “If you can keep him out of a bottle or ten of kila. Right now, he’s passed out in his bunk at his junkyard and not likely to be up anytime soon. He’ll be barely able to take a piss let alone lead you on treasure hunt.” The teenager cleared his throat and smiled at Lexa. “Excuse the crudeness, ma’am.”
Lexa gave him a look. “I’ve heard worse than that before.” She cursed under her breath. “And dammit, I paid Brocken a deposit.”
“I’m his son. I know everything he knows, but I’m younger and harder working.” A wicked smile. “And more charming.” Phoenix’s gaze drifted down Lexa’s body, lingering on the curves of her hips.
Damon pressed a hand to her shoulder. “Tone it down, kid.”
Damon knew Lexa would have no interest in this boy teetering on the verge of manhood, no matter how blue his eyes and how bright his smile, but Damon felt driven by some unfamiliar burning feeling in his chest. He was here to protect her, whether she liked it or not, and he needed to make sure the kid knew she was off-limits.
Phoenix lifted his hands, palms held up.
Damon shook his head. He could hardly blame the boy. Lexa Carter might be a pain but she was a looker. Space-dark hair she usually left loose in the museum was pulled back in a long tail, accenting a beautiful, interesting face. She had wide, brown eyes, tipped up at the edges, and full, red lips.
And her body…it was exactly as a woman’s should be, with dangerous curves that begged a man to sin. Her white shirt and tan trousers did nothing to hide her figure—the trousers pulled tight over her ass and enough buttons were open on her shirt to showcase the slim chain she wore and the purple pendant nestled in her cleavage.
Lexa was watching Dathan Phoenix with a considering look. “Okay. You get us to our location and I’ll pay you what I was going to pay your father.”
The teen grinned.
She shook a finger at him. “But not the deposit I’ve already paid.”
As the boy pulled a face, Damon hid a smile. The lady was no fool. He already knew there was a quick mind behind her attractive face, and damned if he didn’t like it. Smart women had always been a draw for him.
“So, where are we going?” Phoenix asked.
“I’m not exactly sure. But I have a map of clues.”
The young treasure hunter winced. “The deserts here are littered with the bones of the foolish following treasure maps and cryptic clues they’d found, bought or bartered for.”
Lexa patted her backpack. “Mine’s the real deal.”
He winced again. “They all say that.”
“Well, lucky I’m the one paying you to do as I ask, huh?”
A small smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Damon cleared his throat. “To start, we need transportation and supplies to cross the—” he looked at Lexa.
“The Sea of Dunes.”
Phoenix stilled. “The Sea of Dunes. That’s a pretty name for a deadly place. Sandstorms, devil winds, wild animals, sinkholes—whatever kind of desert horror you can think of, the Sea of Dunes has it. Sure you don’t want to head out to the Ruins of Carcalla?”
Damon watched Lexa’s eyes narrow.
“We both know those ruins have been picked over by centuries’ worth of treasure hunters and astro-archeologists.”
<
br /> That unrepentant grin again. “But it’s an easy, safe trip. It was worth a try.”
She crossed her arms. “Hmm, I thought easy and safe would bore you, Mr. Phoenix. Guess you aren’t quite the adventurer I thought you were.”
The teen straightened like he’d been hit with an electric prod. “You want to cross the Sea of Dunes, we’ll cross it.” He yanked a battered Sync from the pocket of his trousers. “We’ll need decent transportation, camping gear, food, treasure-hunting supplies…”
As the young treasure hunter tapped his Sync screen, Damon leaned down, his mouth close to Lexa’s ear. “Nicely done, Princess.”
She huffed out a breath. “That’s Dr. Carter to you, Mr. Malik. And I have five brothers, remember. One teenaged boy is a breeze.”
Suddenly, a horn sounded. A long, mournful sound that echoed across the town.
A few seconds later, it was followed by the blare of a modern siren.
Phoenix cursed.
Not good. With a frown, Damon turned, looking for danger.
“What’s going on?” Lexa demanded.
“That.” The treasure hunter pointed to the north.
For a second, Damon didn’t know what he was looking at. The northern horizon was darkening, a dark brown smudge, growing in size.
Lexa frowned. “What is it?”
“A sandstorm.”
— THREE —
Lexa hurried along the dusty street, following Dathan Phoenix. Damon was a solid, silent and surprisingly reassuring presence at her back.
All through the town, people rushed and ran. Some carrying goods, others tugging along reluctant animals. A large, shaggy beast reared up, bellowing out a frightened call, held in place by a struggling young girl.
Overhead, the growing brown cloud raced closer. She could see the sand twisting and boiling in a writhing mass inside it.
“I’m going to take you to the best inn in town,” Dathan called back over his shoulder. The wind was picking up and he had to yell.
“Inn?” she yelled back. “I want to get started on this hunt!”
“Not today.” He stabbed a finger at the darkening sky. “It’s too dangerous. In the heart of a Zerzuran sandstorm, the winds are strong enough that the sand can strip your skin off.”
Damn. Disappointment left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Damon leaned closer. “We’ll get a good night’s rest and tomorrow you can have your adventure.”
“I’ll organize supplies and we’ll head off at first light,” the treasure hunter yelled back at them.
“This will be over by then?” she asked.
“Yeah. They’re violent, but they rarely last too long.” He waved a hand. “Come on, the Lost Oasis is right up ahead.”
A reptilian man was trying to calm a horse-like creature with a red-and-brown-striped hide. As the beast stamped the ground, the man called out to Dathan in a language Lexa didn’t recognize. She had a new-model lingual implant embedded under the skin of her neck, and she knew they were adding languages every day. But whatever the treasure hunter and the man were speaking, it wasn’t in the lingual database yet.
“Sounds like we’re only going to catch the edge of this,” Dathan said.
Lexa eyed the billowing sand clouds, the wind whipping the ends of her hair into her face. If this was the edge, she’d really hate to be caught in the middle of it.
“Here’s the inn.” The young man shouldered open a door into an unassuming beige-colored, two-story building.
They stepped inside and as soon as the door shut behind them, the howl of the wind cut off. Lexa shook her head and sand flew out of her hair. Damon ran a hand through his.
“This way.” Dathan led them down some steps.
A woman sat at a battered old table. Her weathered face was wreathed in wrinkles and her metal-gray hair was piled on top of her head in a shaggy mess. Lexa tried hard not to stare. In the central systems, one or two simple med treatments a year kept people looking young. Wrinkles forming? No worries, zap them away. Hair turning gray? Easy, just pick from the hundreds of permanent shades added in just a few seconds. Lexa’s mother would die before stepping foot outside with a blemish or a strand of gray. Cassandra Carter didn’t look much older than Lexa’s thirty years.
“Phoenix, what’re you doing here?” The innkeeper scowled. “Told you and those riff-raff brothers of yours to stay out of my place. Last time you were here, you smashed up my bar with your fighting.”
“Aww, Stellar, I think you’ve missed me.” Dathan shot a wide smile at the woman. “And you know my brothers are off-planet. Niklas is at university and Zayn’s at the Strike Wing Academy. That fight was a long time ago and I paid for the damages.”
Stellar made a harrumphing sound and muttered under her breath. Lexa thought the woman might have said something about young, too-handsome riff raff.
“My friends here need a room for the night and I told them your place was the best in all of Kharga.”
Lexa’s eyes widened. “Two rooms.”
The treasure hunter’s gaze swung between her and Damon. “You sure?”
“I’m very sure.”
Dathan winked at her. “Two rooms, Stellar.”
Not long later, Dathan left with a two-fingered salute, saying he needed to get to work on the supplies. Stellar complained all the way up the stairs as she showed Damon and Lexa to their rooms.
“My hips ache. Damn dry weather on this godforsaken planet.” She led them down the narrow hall and pushed opened the first door.
The room was…sparse and simple. Compared to what Lexa had grown up with, this was pretty far down the luxury scale. She barely resisted rubbing her hands together. This was exactly what she’d imagined in a room in an inn on Zerzura. A simple bed was pushed against the rough, whitewashed wall. A rickety-looking table with one chair and a low shelf were the only other bits of furniture in the room.
“Each room has its own bathroom,” Stellar said, puffing out her chest. “Only inn in the town that offers that.”
“Thank you.” Lexa dropped her bag on the table. “It’s fine.”
Damon caught her gaze. “I suggest we grab dinner in the bar.”
Stellar’s faded blue eyes sparked. “We have a special tonight.” Lexa could practically see the woman calculating the additional e-creds in her head. “Dinner and an ale, all for a bargain price.”
Lexa nodded. “Prepare a table for us, please.”
Damon hitched his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll take a shower and meet you there.” He headed farther down the hall with Stellar and Lexa closed her door.
She decided a shower sounded wonderful. She opened the door to the bathroom and rolled her eyes. Stellar had been exaggerating slightly. The room had been fitted with an all-in-one lavatory unit that was often retrofitted onto deep-space starfreighters. The round cylinder had been set into the corner of the room, its shiny, silver walls a stark contrast to the rough plaster.
Inside was a shower unit that, with a press of a button, disappeared into the wall, letting a toilet slide out.
Lexa took a quick shower…which was by necessity. It seemed Stellar was stingy with the hot water. It ran warm for two minutes before turning decidedly cool.
As she switched to the dryer, and warm air blasted from the side of the unit, her thoughts turned to Damon.
The completely irrational question of what he looked like naked in the shower sprung into her head.
Ridiculous. She fluffed her hair out and squelched the thought. She didn’t even like the man, so she had no business imagining him naked. Don’t need to like him to know the man is really, really good to look at.
She paused. Okay, she could admit that much. He had the whole tall, dark and handsome thing going on. She sniffed. She’d always found blonds more attractive, personally. But the image of his long, lean body leapt into her head. Water cascading over taut bronze skin and tight muscles.
Lexa sucked in a deep breath and realized her nip
ples had hardened to stiff points.
Stars! She shut off the air dryer, her skin suddenly feeling far too hot. Damon Malik was a thorn in her side. He constantly second-guessed her, and poked and prodded at her at every opportunity.
She stepped out into the coolness of her room and yanked on clean clothes. She focused on the egg and the treasure hunt. That’s what she was here for…not to fantasize about a man who’d driven her crazy ever since he’d started at the museum. He was forever trying to alter her exhibits and add more technology to the displays—all in the name of security.
Besides, he’d called her a trouble magnet. She definitely did not like him.
With a nod, she headed out into the hall and slammed the door behind her.
***
Damon wasn’t quite sure how he found himself sharing a candlelit dinner with Lexa Carter in a dark corner of an inn on Zerzura. A tiny bunch of desert wildflowers sat in the center of the table, and the flickering of the simulated candle cast a pretty glow on Lexa’s face.
He was certain the grumpy old innkeeper wasn’t trying to play matchmaker, so he guessed the almost romantic atmosphere was a coincidence.
The bar was mostly empty. He’d moved his chair so his back was to the wall and he could keep an eye on the bar’s patrons over Lexa’s shoulder. A battered syndroid served drinks at the bar. Part of his face covering was missing, revealing a mass of blinking lights. The other half of his face was surprisingly realistic. Good tech was slowly finding its way out of the central systems toward the galaxy’s edge, and even here in the Exodus quadrant, you could apparently get decent syndroids. Inexpensive models tended to look reasonably human, but their facial expressions never changed. The good ones…well, the good ones made it tough to tell what was human and what was machine.
A gray-haired man who appeared lost in his sorrows sat hunched over a lone glass of ale at the bar. Across the room, two young men were laughing uproariously at their table. Adventurers, by the look of them. No doubt on the planet to make a name for themselves.
Damon took a sip of his ale. It was cheap and watered down. He’d never been an adventurer. He’d been too busy surviving. He would have done anything to escape his homeworld, and when given the chance, he’d taken it.