Commanded to Yield

by Jennifer Leeland

  Violence. It hung in the air like a thick fog.

  She shook herself. It was ridiculous. Asberek would comply. Otherwise, Earth Central would decimate them. What chance did the colony have against Earth Central? None. She would negotiate the best deal she could for Pasquel, but the reality had to be made clear to him.

  “Ready?” Todd said shortly.

  “After you,” she answered.

  When Todd hesitated in the hallway, she inspected him. That tall, dark look was common on Asberek though not so much on Earth. Was that why her father chose him? “Where did you do your diplomatic training?” she asked.

  “Mars,” he answered shortly.

  He started to the right, and her eyes narrowed. “Oh? What kind of training?”

  “The kind your father finds valuable.” The man wasn’t going to give her a straight answer.

  “Tribunal,” Simon murmured behind her.

  “I don’t care if he’s a damn circus monkey. He can tell me the truth, or he can get the hell out of my way.”

  The man stopped and towered over her. She didn’t back up or cower, but tipped her chin and challenged him. “I’m here to make sure you’re safe.”

  “So you’re a bodyguard, not a diplomat.”

  “Clearly,” he said.

  Her lips tightened. “Nothing about this is clear, Mr. Aster. In the future, you will address me respectfully and stop acting like your very presence is a gift from the gods. Is that clear?”

  A muscle moved in Todd’s cheek. “Crystal.”

  She waited, her gaze holding his. His nostrils flared and he said, “Yes, Ms. Denny.”

  “Better.” She elbowed past him and negotiated the maze of corridors. The idiot. Who did her father think he was? Inwardly, she sighed. Her father thought he was the backbone, the enforcer, for Earth Central. Wasn’t it Harbold Denny’s orders that squashed the Mars rebellion? And this man he’d sent with her was probably one of the thugs he used to do it too.

  People milled about the hallways, but most of them moved aside for the three Earthlings. When they reached the entrance to the Causeway, two council members waited for her.

  “Ms. Denny? Mr. Pasquel asked us to escort you to the Capitol.” Michael Tarune’s black hair gleamed in the bright Asberek sunshine. His dark eyes were cold, however. She’d thought Matthew Lestrano was frigid, but next to Tarune, Matthew was a volcano of emotion.

  “How kind of you,” she said with a smile. The other council member was a tall redheaded woman who could be anywhere from thirty to fifty. Her beauty was timeless, and her eyes dominated her face. A green, piercing gaze met hers, and the woman nodded slightly.

  “I am Sashina Matins, and this is Michael Tarune.” The woman’s questing gaze rested on Todd Aster and then back to Fallon’s face.

  “I’ve read about both of you, of course. I am deeply honored.”

  “The honor is ours. After all,” Michael Tarune’s voice was deep and bitter, “we’ve all heard of Harbold Denny.”

  Fallon had often heard her father’s name said with hostility, but Michael’s tone bordered on hatred. “He is quite famous,” she said blandly.

  “You’ll have to excuse Michael, Ms. Denny,” Sashina said smoothly. “I’m sure you read that your father is the one who ordered the death of his parents. He’s a tad explosive about it.”

  She blinked. No, that hadn’t been in the report. The death of Jake and Daniella Tarune at the hands of Earth Central had been a horrific injustice. Could her father have been responsible for that?

  Bitterly, she reflected. Hell, yes. He probably thought it “inconsequential” to mention. She took a deep breath. “I did not know.” Damn it. She hated being caught off guard like this.

  Sashina shot her a sharp glance. “My apologies, Ms. Denny. We assumed—”

  “I’m afraid you’re under the impression that my father consults me.” Far from it, she thought. “On the contrary, he instructs me, but I am not privy to his business.” Not even the business I’m directly involved in.

  “I see,” Michael drawled. “So you just do as you’re told?”

  What was it with everyone? She’d about had it with all of them. Diplomacy be damned. “I take care of my own business. I heard about your parents, and I was appalled. Do you have proof my father ordered their death?”

  Michael’s lids dropped over his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Then I suggest you send a formal complaint. Many who are involved in Earth Central’s government shared my opinion about the death of General Tarune. He was a brave, valuable man and deserved better.” She swept past him. “I would like to be on time if possible.”

  Silence followed her. Good. She’d shut them up. All of them. Even Simon didn’t mutter behind her. Michael did beat her to the door of the Capitol and opened it. She nodded her thanks and strode inside the building.

  Todd flanked her side, and she glared at him. They could all go to hell. She didn’t like how every damn person she was supposed to rely on had some hidden agenda. Her father, her advisors, even the Asberek council, all had some unspoken claim on her, and it was pissing her off.

  Michael bowed before he left her. “Mr. Pasquel will see you in a few moments.” His mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “I’m afraid your men will have to wait outside.

  “Fine.” She dismissed Michael Tarune from her thoughts. Well, not entirely. Fallon wasn’t heartless. Her father probably did order the death of the famous general. Any challenge to Earth Central power would be viewed as a threat.

  Finally, the door opened, and Pasquel motioned for her to enter. She strode through the doorway and ignored her advisor’s parting comments. Whatever they had to say didn’t matter.

  Pasquel’s office was more like a sitting room or a parlor than an office. Comfortable couches and a huge polished wooden coffee table dominated the center of the room. She studied this leader closely. She noted graying temples and crow’s feet around his eyes were the only signs of age. Adonis Pasquel had aged well. His blue eyes were sharp and bright, his muscles still impressive. There was no outward sign of the tremendous genetic change that made him a famous figure in history.

  “Please, sit.” He waved toward an overstuff chair that swallowed her when she sat in it.

  He leaned back and seemed completely relaxed. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Did you send Michael Tarune to escort me?” she asked bluntly.

  Pasquel frowned, his lips pressed together. “No.” He didn’t say the words, but Fallon thought she heard the unspoken I wouldn’t.

  “He seems to have a grudge against me. What is Matthew Lestrano’s beef with me?” She hadn’t forgotten Mistress T’s words.

  The man met her gaze. By his frown she guessed this wasn’t the conversation he thought they’d be having. “Matthew was almost killed by an Earth Central assassin sent six months ago. It has been revealed that the man received a kill order from your father’s house.”

  “He thinks it was me?” She couldn’t believe it.

  “No. You are not suspected of sending the order. You are suspected of reinforcing your father’s threats.” Pasquel leaned forward. “You see, Ms. Denny, we view your presence as a ‘Negotiate or Die’ threat. Perhaps you can see why.” The man’s voice was reasonable, calm.

  Anger would do no good here. She forced her muscles to relax. “On the contrary, we don’t require negotiation.” Time to play hard ball. From the small pocket of her slacks, she removed the data card. “You see, we don’t need you.”

  Pasquel smiled. “Perhaps. I take it that is video evidence of several murders that took place on Earth over thirty years ago.”

  He knew. Damn it. How did he know? Did she have a leak? “Those murders were particularly vicious and ugly. Your political career is over.” She spoke with confidence, but he didn’t seem disturbed by her announcement at all.

  “I’m afraid not, Ms. Denny,” Pasquel said gently. “Your father miscalculated. Thirty years ago, before I became leader
for the Asberek colony, all the colonists were informed of my part in those murders.” He rose to his feet. “Something to drink?”

  She bit her lip. What now? “Yes, please.”

  Pasquel brought her a sweet, icy drink, and she gulped it down. He gazed down at her for a moment and then sat down again. “Ms. Denny, I’m going to be as honest as I can with you. Earth Central is not interested in keeping Asberek as an independent colony. They want control of the resources they find valuable.”

  “Mr. Pasquel—”

  “I’m not finished.” His voice was a whip, and she froze. “Earth Central has used assassination and, now, blackmail to bring this colony down.” His blue eyes glittered. “All bets are off. You pass this onto your father. Either we are completely independent of Earth Central, or we will defy them to the end.”

  “Surely you realize that you will lose,” she said. Desperately, she sought to convince him. “Earth Central will crush you the way it crushed Mars. Do you know how many innocent people died in that rebellion?”

  “Four thousand five hundred and three.” He took a sip of his drink.

  “That’s almost your entire population here,” she pointed out.

  “It exceeds it.”

  She threw up her hands. “It’s insane. Earth Central will send warships to take Asberek by force. If you persist in this attitude, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “What do you care, Ms. Denny?” he mused. “Surely you’ve failed before.”

  She didn’t want to think about that. In the past, Earth Central had forced its will on the colonies through financial coercion. Mars had served its purpose. A warning. But Adonis Pasquel wasn’t heeding it.

  “The council—”

  “Will do what I say,” Pasquel told her.

  That was that. She stood. “Then we have nothing to discuss.”

  “On the contrary, Ms. Denny. Sit down.” He gave the order in that sharp tone, and her knees gave out. She sat.

  “What else could we possibly discuss? You’ve rejected any compromise.”

  “I wish to talk about a man named Randall Joel.”

  Her heart stuttered. Randy? How the hell did this man know about him? “I’m sorry?” She tried to sound unconcerned, but her voice cracked.

  “Lieutenant Randall Joel, born in New Paris, graduated Tribunal academy eight years ago and once engaged to Harbold Denny’s daughter. A man who was sent here a year ago ostensibly to provide military assistance to our local militia. Actually, he was here to kill me.”

  Fallon’s stomach churned, and her hand trembled. She clenched it into a fist. Not Randy. He was a loyal soldier, a wonderful man, and under her father’s thumb. She hadn’t loved him and wouldn’t marry him because of it. But she cared about him. “I don’t believe you.”

  Pasquel held up a data card. “Let me show you my video.”

  He inserted the disc in a receiver, and the video started. It was a party much like the one she’d been to earlier. There was Randy Joel, blond, determined and deadly. He aimed a blaster at Adonis Pasquel. A man flung himself in the way, and the blaster shot ripped through his shoulder and blood spattered. Matthew Lestrano.

  No wonder they thought she might be involved.

  Her lips trembled, and she stared at the screen as Randy’s mouth filled with blood, and he convulsed. Tears escaped despite her best effort. He hadn’t deserved that kind of death. No one did.

  “He’d been infected with a deadly plague, but it had no effect on our people.” Pasquel stared at her. “Apparently, if he missed, he was still going to take out as many as he could. Collateral damage.”

  Nausea rolled through Fallon, and her throat hurt. “I don’t believe it,” she whispered. How could it be? Why would Randy do it? What lies was he told to justify the carnage he intended to inflict on the colony?

  “His last words were ‘Die, alien rebels.’ Pasquel still kept his gaze on her face. “You’re not the only one who was sent here to force us to capitulate.”

  She clenched her jaw. What could she say? She’d come here to blackmail this man, to force his resignation to create a power vacuum on the colony. She tipped her chin. “I have done what I thought was best.”

  Pasquel nodded. “I know that.” He rose and pressed a button. Matthew Lestrano entered the room. “Will you take Ms. Denny to her quarters?” He held out his hand, and after a moment, she took it and stood. “Believe me, Ms. Denny, I would prefer we were not enemies.”

  Her hand shook, and she removed it from his. “Will you still allow me to address the council?”

  “Yes, I will.” Pasquel nodded to Matthew. “Matt will be your liaison and escort.” His blue eyes were sad. “I can see you did not know about Randall Joel. I’m sorry to be the one to inform you about his death.”

  It took all her strength, all her years of diplomacy, to keep her composure. She was not going to break down now. Matthew’s hand curved around her arm, and the pressure felt real, solid, the only substantial thing in her world at the moment.

  As long as she made it back to her room, she’d be fine. Somehow.

  Chapter Nine

  The long walk back to Fallon’s quarters was almost more than Matthew could stand. Her white face and bleak expression said it all. He’d listened to the whole conversation and realized, as did Pasquel, that Fallon knew nothing about the assassination attempt. Her whole purpose was to blackmail the leader of Asberek and gain the colony’s capitulation.

  Even Randall Joel had been a pawn in Harbold Denny’s sick game of control. Who else was the man using? And what would happen with Fallon now?

  She stumbled, and he caught her arm. The man, Aster, crowded him. Matthew glared at him, and he reared back. “Fallon,” he started.

  “Don’t. Just don’t.” Her voice sounded edgy, on the verge of hysterical.

  “What the hell did that bastard say to you?” Simon demanded to know.

  Fallon straightened her back. “Nothing. He refused. Earth Central is going to crush the colony, and I can’t stop it.”

  Aster regarded her with a hooded gaze, and Simon looked appalled. “But the council—”

  “Simon,” she said sharply. “Pasquel is the council.”

  “On the contrary,” Matthew commented. “We often disagree, but not about Earth Central.”

  She stopped dead in the middle of the wide lane. The day was waning, and the suns were barely visible over the horizon. She faced him and gazed at him steadily. “You’re my liaison. Take me to The Asberek Moon.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “As you wish.”

  She kept her gaze locked with his when she spoke to Aster and Simon. “I’ll be fine. Please leave me alone.”

  Aster tried to step closer. “Ms. Denny—”

  Fallon’s head whipped around and she glared at him. “You’re my father’s puppy. Go and lick his boots.”

  Aster’s eyes narrowed, and Matt tensed. Would he have to kill the man? But Aster backed off and strode away with Simon trailing behind him.

  “You shouldn’t poke the bear, Fallon,” he said.

  “I want a drink,” she said and headed toward The Asberek Moon.

  Matthew got the idea he was going to have a very drunk diplomat on his hands. She was wearing a loose blouse of some soft, flowing material and a pair of black pants. Black boots and her hair up in a clip, she didn’t resemble the sweet submissive he knew was underneath the surface.

  Her emotions had been triggered, manipulated by Adonis Pasquel. With Matthew Lestrano’s help. He sighed. He’d have to deal with the consequences. They knew she’d react one way or another.

  The Asberek Moon was already packed, in full party mode, when they arrived. He glanced at the bar and noted Trista wasn’t bartending tonight. Not that she wasn’t here. He spotted her playing Twisted over in the corner.

  “Do they have poker?” She scanned the tables.

  Great. Matthew studied her face. Gambling and drinking. It wasn’t going to be pleasant. “Yes, but
the betting—”

  “—is based on sexual favors, yes, I know.” She met his gaze. “What’s the buy in?”

  “Vanilla or kinky?” Didn’t she get it? He had to get it through her head that she wasn’t used to this. She’d lose.

  Color stained her cheeks, but she held his stare. “Kinky.”

  Matthew almost closed his eyes. The woman tempted him more than anyone before. “Alright.” He led her toward the back of the club. Several poker tables were already set up.

  “The kinky poker tables.” He glanced at one of the regulars and gave an unobtrusive hand sign. Let her win. I’ll cover.

  She slid into a seat, and he found a chair against the wall to watch. The dealer flicked out the cards and studiously didn’t meet Matt’s gaze. “The buy in is one article of clothing.”

  Without hesitation, Fallon whipped off her belt and flung it on the table. “I’m in.”

  Twenty minutes into the game, Matt realized Fallon was a great player and didn’t need the dealer’s help to win. She had the other three players naked and fucking each other before he knew what happened.

  Maybe this wouldn’t be a disaster. He thought he was home free. And then Trista arrived at the poker table. He almost groaned. No one beat Trista at poker. No one.

  The Mistress flung an earring into the pot and sat down. “How nice to see you again, Fallon.”

  Fallon licked her lips, and Matthew stared. He wanted to fling her onto the table with Trista holding her arms and his cock buried deep inside her. Intense need shot through his system. All because she ran her tongue over her lips.

  “Matthew, get in this game,” Trista ordered.

  “You forget, Trista, I don’t take orders,” he said. No way he was getting in this game. He’d do anything to win. Even cheat.

  Trista grinned. “Get in the game or I’ll tell the story about the time you were arrested by the Earth Central military police.”

  He glared at Trista, and she just flicked her eyes at one of the empty chairs. With a sigh, he plopped into a chair.

  Fallon leaned forward and met his gaze. “Ante up, Lestrano.”