“As to who’s attacking us, I’m not sure. I set off a false alarm, but that wouldn’t make the building shake. It definitely seems that there’s more—” Her pocket buzzed, and she jumped. Then, feeling silly, she pulled out her comm unit. “Hold on.” She thumbed it on. “Maybe Ankari has an idea as to what’s going on out there.”
“We’re going on here,” Ankari said. “We’ve knocked out the shields around the tower, but police aircraft are homing in on us, so we should leave soon. Any chance you’re ready and could come up to the roof?”
Sergei nodded to Jamie, though she was too surprised to answer right away. “I—how did you know we needed rescuing?”
“You need rescuing? We just came to pick you up. With explosives.” Ankari’s voice grew dry. “Apparently, this is how it’s done in Mandrake Company.”
“It’s either now or never,” the captain growled in the background. “We’re about to be unwelcome on this planet for more reasons than illegal food deliveries.”
“About to be?” Ankari asked. “You just knocked the water tower off the top of that building.”
“Not me. That was Frog. You ought to know his style by now.”
“Jamie,” Ankari said, “can you make it to the roof? Is Sergei with you?”
“He’s here. We’re technically not imprisoned at this point, and I believe that’s Finance Lady Laframboise dead on the floor over there, but a pickup would be nice, yes. But a bunch of security guards were running up to the roof with rifles a couple of minutes ago.”
“They’ll be gone by the time you get there,” the captain promised.
“We’re coming then.”
“Do you want Laframboise’s head to mount on your wall, Mandrake?” Sergei returned to Jamie’s side and gave her a quick hug, as if they were about to head out for an evening stroll together and weren’t talking about decapitating bodies.
“My interior decorator just made a horrified expression,” the captain said. “Leave it there. The word will get out fast enough about the death.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jamie turned off the comm and stuck it back in her pocket. She arched her brows at the nude form standing beside her.
“No clothes that will fit me anywhere,” Sergei said apologetically.
“Oh, your nudity doesn’t bother me.” The rest of the crew might have a snarky word or two for him, but she would stand in front of him if need be. “I was mostly wondering how long it would take for your wrists to heal and whether those injuries would preclude giving massages.”
“If you still want a massage from these hands—” he grimaced down at the blood on his palms and wrists, “—then I would be most happy to give one to you.”
“Good.” Jamie handed him the sword and waved toward the hallway. “The promise of that experience is one of the two reasons I came up here looking for you.”
“What was the other?”
She kissed him on the cheek. “I missed you.”
He hugged her again, then they strode into the hallway, which still lay oddly silent and serene. Jamie was surprised that none of the security men running to their duty stations had come to check on their boss. Or, given what she knew about the woman now, maybe she wasn’t all that surprised. Maybe Laframboise’s security men were all secretly hoping some assassin would do exactly what Sergei had done.
They rode up to the rooftop in the lift. Despite the captain’s promise to clear the way for them, Sergei insisted on striding out first, his sword up and ready to protect her.
“Cute,” came a familiar voice from a few feet ahead of him.
Jamie peeked around Sergei’s shoulder and spotted the captain, Sergeant Hazel, and Sergeant Striker. Other Mandrake Company mercenaries stood by the ramp of the pink shuttle, their rifles pointed in different directions around the rooftop. Not that any of the security guards, all down on the cement and unmoving, some of their bodies still smoking from laser fire, were in a position to threaten them. At first, Jamie was surprised that the shuttle and the small crew it had brought down had managed to destroy Laframboise’s shields and mow down all of her people, but then she spotted the Albatross hovering in the sky to the side of the tower, its gray predatory bird shape looking far larger and more intimidating than it did up in the vastness of space.
“You did say there’s no dress code on your ship,” Sergei said.
The captain grunted. “I may need to rethink that regulation.” He pointed them toward the ramp.
Jamie didn’t need any urging, but she smiled when Sergei rested his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the shuttle. Sergeant Hazel’s eyebrows twitched upward. Remembering that Hazel had given Sergei a rough time about his interest in her, Jamie wrapped her arm around his waist as they walked. Even though the mercenaries were presumably paying strict attention to their duties and making sure nobody snuck up on them, more than a few men stared, and a couple of jaws dangled open. Hazel’s mouth twisted, and she shook her head, but she didn’t seem shocked.
Despite all he had gone through, Sergei smiled and looked quite pleased with himself. Jamie let him have his moment. She was expecting big things from the massage.
Epilogue
“Will this do?” The hotel clerk stood aside, allowing Sergei and Jamie to see through the open door.
Potted bird of paradise plants and bougainvillea bushes lined the walls, with their wide fronds and vines stretching across the ceiling, red flowers adding a soothing fragrance to the air—even Sergei found it so, and he had never been one to stop and smell the flowers in the spaceport shops. Expansive windows overlooked a desert setting, with a sparkling blue oasis, complete with palm trees and flowering cacti. The view was fake, of course, but he could pretend they were on some exotic planet, rather than at a space dock where the Albatross was receiving minor repairs, courtesy of the police fighters chasing it away from Dekaron VI. Either way, it was a nice room for a space dock hotel, and he was fairly certain the plants were real.
Jamie wandered in with her overnight bag, sniffed a flower, and nodded at Sergei.
“It’ll do fine,” Sergei told the clerk, then stepped inside, letting the door close behind him.
In addition to the “view,” the room offered a massage table and a large bed with much nicer linens and blankets than his cabin on the Albatross featured. A fountain gurgled softly in one corner, with a few lilies floating atop the water. Birds and crickets seemed to chirp in the distance, their voices punctuated by the occasional croak of a frog. To the side, a large bathroom with a stone grotto theme had all the amenities one needed, including a spacious shower with benches inside. No need to take a soap dispenser up the butt when bathing as a pair in there.
“The vines have thorns.” Jamie smiled shyly at Sergei.
“Naturally. What do you think of the massage table? Will it do?”
Jamie strolled over to it, the first dress he had ever seen her wear swishing around her calves with each step. She had gone shopping with Ankari earlier, and he suspected the garment was a new addition to her wardrobe of grease-stained T-shirts and coveralls. It pleased him that she had wanted to buy something nice for their evening together. Though he didn’t plan for either of them to be clothed for long, he did admire the way it hugged her hips. Other body parts too.
“Is it sturdy enough?” she asked, distracting him from his admiration of the view.
She bent down to prod one of the articulating legs, then did something that elicited a squeak. The unit presumably folded so it could be moved from room-to-room. He’d had to request it specifically when he booked their lodgings.
“It only has to hold your weight,” Sergei said dryly.
“Oh, is that all? I was imagining… something else.” Her smile grew even shier.
“Were you?” Sergei strolled over to join her, his soul brightened by her smile, and the fact that she didn’t seem to see him as tainted, after his recent experience. “With me, right? Not Fergusson’s thug?”
“Spartak.”
He gave her a mock scowl. “I’m going to give you such a thoroughly amazing massage that it’ll wipe all memory of Spartak and his limp-wristed attention from your mind.”
“Promises, promises.”
Sergei was about to rest his hands on her hips and kiss her, but she held up a finger.
“One moment, please.” Jamie dug into her bag and pulled out her multitool. She turned the table on its side and tinkered with the loose joint.
“You brought a tool on our first overnight trip?” Sergei scratched his three days’ worth of beard growth, which, like his hair, was freshly trimmed for this occasion. With no further need for a disguise, he was back to his usual brown, as well. “I’ve heard of people packing toys, but not tools. Not exactly.”
“Toys?” Jamie asked, clanking at something.
“Ah, never mind. We can explore such things later, if you wish.” He grinned, delighted anew that he would get to be the one to introduce her to variations on sexual activities, if she so wished. Though he would be absolutely fine with keeping things simple. Some people’s ideas of toys were enough to make one cringe. He shuddered, images of those damned counselors—and Laframboise—flashing through his mind.
“Are you all right?” Jamie had stopped tinkering and put her tool away. She frowned up at him with concern.
“Yes. I was just, uhm. I’m looking forward to a wonderful night with you, that’s all.”
She laid a hand on his forearm. “Maybe I should give you the massage.”
She read him too well. But maybe it was just as well that she already knew all his secrets, all the nightmares that haunted him, and that he didn’t have to hide anything from her.
“No, I’m looking forward to this.” This time, Sergei succeeded in resting his hands on her hips and leaning in for a kiss.
“Kissing me or massaging me?” she murmured against his lips.
“Yes.” Sergei forced himself to draw back, lest his body try to put its needs ahead of her modest desires. “Why don’t we get you out of that dress and onto the table?”
“Sounds good, but you’ll want to put on your massage outfit first.”
“Massage… outfit?” He squinted suspiciously at her. “You didn’t get one of those bulge-hugging swimsuits like they had at the spa, did you?”
“Not exactly like those. Ankari helped me pick it out. At the same time she was picking out one for the captain.”
“Oh?” Sergei said carefully, though he couldn’t imagine Mandrake wearing anything skimpy or otherwise ridiculous.
Jamie rummaged through her luggage, peered in, pushed her nightclothes around, then rummaged some more. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be very big, not if it had been lost in such a small bag. “Ah, there it is.”
She held aloft an orange string. With a thin fabric… pouch. No, make that a sling. Pouch was too generous a term for the tiny scrap of fabric.
Sergei pointed at it. “You’re telling me that Captain Viktor Mandrake, leader of a company of bloodthirsty mercenaries, is going to be wearing one of those tonight?”
“He’s probably putting his on right now. It’s pink.”
Sergei snorted. “There’s no way she’s getting that on him. It wouldn’t matter if it was jet black with spikes coming out of it.”
“Well, you wear what you like.” Jamie’s eyes crinkled, and she unfastened her dress, letting it pool on the thatch mat at her feet. She was wearing the female equivalent, a string bikini with fabric that covered very little. “I’m ready for my massage.” She scooted onto her belly on the table, leaving him holding the orange thong and gazing at all that magnificent exposed flesh.
“I…” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to change right now.”
“Good,” she said, her voice muffled since she had placed her face into the hole in the table. “I’m waiting for your touch.”
Sergei kept himself from saying something dirty—barely. He had been promising her this massage for long enough now that he owed it to her to do a good job. Not that he didn’t plan to enjoy the experience too.
Smiling, he opened a drawer in the table and found a number of oils and lubricants. Perfect.
He tugged off his shirt and trousers, nearly pitching into the fountain because he was admiring her sleek form instead of paying attention to what he was doing. Some lethal assassin he was. Once his shoes and clothes had joined her dress on the floor, he picked up the tiny swimsuit and regarded it dubiously as it dangled from the tip of his finger. No, a man just couldn’t do such a thing to his favorite body part. He tossed it into the closest bougainvillea, trusting that Mandrake’s would end up in a similar place.
It wasn’t as if Sergei and Jamie were heading off to some public swimming hole. Everything they needed for the night was here. He plucked up one of the oils labeled Sexual Scents: Tropical Kiss. That sounded promising.
Before applying it, Sergei untwisted Jamie’s loose braid of hair, pleased to see gooseflesh arise as he took his time, combing his fingers through it and massaging her scalp.
“I’m already liking your ministrations,” Jamie said.
“Good.”
Sergei let his fingers roam a little longer, then shifted the mass of soft blonde locks to the side of her shoulder. He dropped some of the goop onto his hands—surprisingly, the subtle coconut and flower scent was appealing—then rubbed them together and laid his palms on Jamie’s back. He wasn’t actually all that experienced at the masseur role, but he had been reading up and watching videos on the network. For warm up, he ran his hands across the muscles of her back, then up to her shoulders, applying pressure but not too much. He untied the string of her suit, so it wouldn’t get in the way. He slid his fingers over her deliciously smooth, soft skin, and it didn’t take more than a few seconds before his eager shaft was pressing against the side of the table. He sighed at himself. He had to have the most ridiculously active libido. At least this time, his penis was focused on the right woman.
“That feels wonderful,” Jamie murmured.
His first thought was that she meant his penis, but he gave himself a mental kick and called himself an idiot. He was being careful to keep that against the table, not her hip. No need to reveal that he had tossed her gift away prematurely.
“I’m glad,” he said, moving his hands in the techniques he had read about, searching out knots of muscle that he could gently knead into a smooth and relaxed state. She didn’t have nearly as many knots as he did. He imagined he would be quite the project if she offered a return massage.
After a while, he spoke again, bringing up a question that he had debated whether to mention tonight. With Jamie sighing enthusiastically and making contented murmurs at his touch, he thought it might be a good time. “There’s something I’d like to ask you.”
“Yes?” she said dreamily.
“When I first flew with you to the Albatross, you were talking to Ankari about wanting to return to school, about applying for the next semester.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice less dreamy.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I have these stalker tendencies, you see. A bad habit drummed into me by the job.”
“Really,” she said dryly.
At least she sounded amused, rather than annoyed. Not that he had yet had her annoyed with him. It was inevitable that she would be someday, but he loved her even temper, her lack of judgment, her calm acceptance. With his hands kneading her shoulders, he leaned in close and kissed her on the back of her neck, savoring her warm scent and the taste of her skin. Or maybe that was the Tropical Kiss lotion.
“I wanted you to know,” he said, “that I would miss you immensely if you left, but I’d understand your desire to study and to do something else with your life besides roaming around with mercenaries. And I’d wait for you, if you wanted to leave and maybe come back someday.” He kept himself from admitting that he would be crushed if she left, going someplace like a university in the hyper-civilized c
ore of the system where an assassin would be shunned, if not shot outright. He didn’t want to sound too needy, too vulnerable. She thought he was strong, her thorn. He wanted her to go on thinking that. He kissed her again, savoring this moment in case it wouldn’t last forever.
“That’s sweet,” Jamie said.
Sweet? Hm. Why did that sound like the start of a sentence that would have a but in it?
Sergei ran his hands down her back and to her legs, lovingly kneading the muscles in her hamstrings and calves, while wondering if there was any way he could tempt her to stay, to make her dread the idea of leaving him.
“But,” Jamie said, and he winced, “I was thinking I might wait another semester or even a year before applying.”
Sergei’s chest swelled with hope, though he kept his hands steady, his voice casual as he asked, “Oh?”
“I’ve been learning a lot on the job—and while sneaking into enemy fortresses too. And I’ve developed this odd craving for going off on adventures with this strange man.”
“A very strange man.” Sergei pressed his thumbs into her calf, rubbing at a tight spot. “What about that other problem that you wanted to escape? Leering men with wandering hands?”
“It’s the oddest thing, but it hasn’t been a problem at all these last couple of days. Men have been looking at my eyes instead of my breasts when they greet me, and Striker passed me in the corridor yesterday without jostling me or saying anything lewd. He even stood aside so I could go around him.”
“Is that so?”
“Think it has something to do with the fearsome assassin I’ve been wandering around the ship with?”
“I think it has more to do with that mercenary you threw over your shoulder and onto the table.” Sergei slid his hands up to massage the backs of her thighs, ostensibly working on the muscles there, though his fingers had a tendency to stray inward for light, teasing strokes. “That’s usually how it works with bullies. I should know. We had a number of them prowling the corridors of the space station where I grew up. You beat up someone they respect, and that’s usually all it takes to get them to leave you alone.”
Mandrake Company- The Complete Series Page 77