Rico disappeared inside the bathroom, came out a moment later with the small medical kit from her cabinet. He placed it on the table, then sat down next to her. “Let me look at your arm.”
“It’s nothing,” she snapped.
He gave her a long look and the air left her lungs in a huge sigh.
She unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off one shoulder.
Holding on to her wrist, he turned her arm so he could study the burn. “You’re right, it’s nothing. I’ll just spray it with sealant and pain killer.”
She didn’t argue as he sprayed the wound, and in fact, she did feel marginally better as the pain receded. Refastening her shirt, she sat back.
Rico settled himself into the seat opposite, long legs stretched out in front of him. “Well?”
“Well, it’s done. We’re out of here, and he’s staying. I suppose the whole Meridian thing was only a dream.” She forced a grin.
“Who wants to turn out like him anyway? I’m guessing those aliens must be real assholes.”
“Maybe. But I reckon it’s not the alien part of him that’s causing the problems right now.”
“It’s not?”
“No, I’m guessing it’s the human bits.”
She frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“You know back on Earth he was famous?”
Her gaze flashed to his face in shock. “You knew him?”
“Not personally, but as I said he was famous. Don’t tell Daisy, I said this, or she’ll be all over him, but he was this daredevil pilot— more kills than the rest of them put together. Nerves of steel, and a complete adrenaline junky.”
“You sound like you’re the one with crush on him now.”
Rico grinned. “Maybe back then—a man crush. I wanted to be a pilot, and he was the best.”
Yeah, she’d bet he was. “Your point is?”
“You don’t go from that, to being a bloody politician. He’s been living a life he’s not suited to, playing a role for five hundred years, and I’m betting he’s bored out of his mind. He might tell himself it’s the Meridian, but he’s lying. It’s not that he’s not human, he’s just forgotten how to act it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’s finished. We’re out of here and he can comm someone to come and pick him up. You know, I need a drink.”
“Well, it just so happens I have some.” He pulled a silver flask out of his pocket and placed it on the table, then got to his feet.
“Unfortunately, it’s mine and not Sardi’s good stuff, but it’ll do the trick. Take the night off. Give yourself a break. We’ll sort this out—just don’t give up on that dream yet.”
When he was gone, Tannis got up and shuffled across the room to stand in front of the mirror and stare at herself. She wasn’t beautiful. She’d never been beautiful. She didn’t think she was ugly either, and strangely, the signs of her non-human DNA— the yellow eyes with their narrow slits, the faint luminosity to her skin—had never bothered her. Probably, that was because she had grown up hating the humans around her, and so had grasped on to the idea that she was different, but she didn’t analyze it too deeply. She was into action, not thinking. Thinking only got you into trouble—she’d leave it to the politicians. Like Callum.
But maybe it was time to give up on the dream. She’d clung to it for so long. How many nights had she fallen asleep in her cell at the research center and dreamed of the beautiful Collective woman. Her angel. The one person who’d been kind to her. How sad was she? But she didn’t want to give up. There were whole worlds out there to explore, and one lifetime was never enough.
Besides, she didn’t want to die.
Returning to the sofa, she put her feet up on the table and picked up Rico’s flask. She unscrewed the top and took a deep swallow. Then she rested her head against the back of the cushion and tried not to think. Closing her eyes she saw an image of Callum’s face, and knew she would never see it again.
It was for the best. Really it was.
Chapter 6
Blood trickled down over his lips and chin.
His nose was broken. Again.
Alex had disappeared, probably to check that her man was all right, but Janey was still in her seat watching him, her expression blank. She rose gracefully to her feet, strolled across, and handed him a cloth. He wiped the blood away and glanced at her.
“You want to take a punch at me as well?” he asked.
A grin flashed across her face. “Tannis doesn’t let anyone mess with her crew. She’s very protective.”
“I noticed.”
For a brief second, he wondered how it would feel to have Tannis protect him. Never going to happen.
He dabbed at his nose and winced. But the strange thing was; he didn’t blame her. He’d been an idiot, and he’d nearly got himself taken prisoner and Jon and Rico killed. He’d made a promise and he’d had to go, but maybe he should have explained the situation.
They could have gone with him, made sure he stayed out of sight.
The truth was—he just wasn’t used to this clandestine stuff. He also wasn’t used to explaining himself.
The visit had depressed him as well. Rosalie had been so old.
She didn’t have much longer, but the strange thing was, she’d also been happy. He’d stayed talked to her about the colonel; she was clearly still in love with him, but believed she had made the right decision.
Callum didn’t know. He’d never been in love…
He didn’t want to leave El Cazador. For all sorts of reasons.
Some of which he wasn’t willing to look at too closely just yet.
He hadn’t realized quite how restricted and stultifying his life had been. The first couple of hundred years had been a challenge.
Planets to discover, finding out they were telepathic, then realizing they were immortal and almost impossible to kill. Extending the Collective and gaining great wealth in the process.
Gradually, their power had grown. But at what point had he decided he wanted to rule the goddamn universe? It had just happened, like ropes of responsibility, wrapping themselves around him and slowly tightening.
For the past century or so, he might as well have been buried alive. What was the point of immortality, if you didn’t care whether you lived or died? But to care, you had to have something worth caring about. For him, it had always been things rather than people. Things had long ago lost their meaning, and he had no one he cared enough about to take their place.
He was in danger of getting maudlin.
Since he’d boarded El Cazador, he’d felt as though he was waking up. Even the pain in his nose reminded him he was alive.
Rico appeared in the open doorway and every muscle in Callum’s body locked solid as tension radiated through him.
Yeah, he might have deserved that punch from Tannis, but no way was he willing to stand still while someone else took a potshot at him. This time he was getting in there first. He spread his wings, his fist clenched at his side, and he came up on the balls of his feet ready to move fast.
Rico strolled into the room. He cast a glance in Janey’s direction and waved at the doorway. Her eyes widened slightly.
She glanced from Rico to Callum, and then shrugged and left the room.
Rico reached up and pressed the panel by the doors and they slid shut, leaving Callum alone with the vampire. Why? An audience hadn’t bothered Rico the last time he had hit him. What was different now? Had he come to finish the job and didn’t want any witnesses?
He was also armed, and Callum still hadn’t got hold of that gun he wanted.
“Stand down,” Rico said. “I’m not here to punch you…this time.”
So what was he here for? Maybe he was going to do the whole vampire thing and drain Callum dry. Hid hand moved up to his throat without conscious thought.
Rico must have caught the movement because a grin flashed across his face.
“I’m not here to eat you either.” He lic
ked his lips. “Thanks to your stunt earlier, I’ve had plenty today.”
Callum frowned. He was supposed to be the mind reader; he didn’t like the idea of anyone being able to read him so easily.
Rico must have caught that thought as well. “I can’t read minds, but I’ve had plenty of practice reading people, and you’re pretty transparent.
“I am?”
“Oh yeah. You’re pissed off because no one’s doing what you say, but at the same time, you don’t want to go back. You’ve had a few hundred years of ruling the Universe and you’re bored out of your mind. I bet that broken nose is the first thing you’ve felt in years.”
The words so exactly mirrored Callum’s earlier thoughts that he turned away to hide his expression. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he paced the room for a minute, trying to work out what it was the vampire did want. In the end, he decided the easiest thing was to just ask. Even if he had an inkling that he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“So what do you want?”
Rico pursed his lips, but a small smile still played across his features, and irritation flicked at Callum’s raw nerve endings. So the vamp found him amusing did he?
Rico’s smile broadened. “You know, you shouldn’t take yourself so seriously.”
“Just get on with it.”
“Okay. Ricardo Sanchez, vampire, and relationship guidance counselor, at your service.”
For a second, Callum was sure he hadn’t heard right. “What?”
“I’ve decided it’s not in our best interests for you to leave the ship at this time. I’m willing to give you one more chance to overcome your asshole tendencies.”
“You are?” Callum had always thought himself quite bright but he was finding this conversation hard to follow. “So you’re not going to kill me, eat me, or throw me off the ship?”
“Not just yet. On the other hand, I’m not in charge.”
“Why?” Callum asked. “Why aren’t you in charge? I’ve read the reports— El Cazador belongs to you—why aren’t you captain?”
Rico shrugged. “I like living on the ship—but I don’t like responsibility. Tannis, on the other hand loves telling people what to do—you might remember that—so this set up works well for both of us.”
Callum wanted to ask where they’d met, they seemed an unlikely coupling, but he decided it was a conversation for a later date. Right now, he wanted to know what was going on.
“And Tannis wants you off the ship,” Rico continued. “You have about five minutes to change her mind.”
“And how do I do that?”
“You’re going to have to apologize.” Rico studied him closely.
“Can you remember how to apologize, fly-boy?”
Callum tried to recall the last time he’d apologized to somebody.
He couldn’t bring it to mind. Maybe he’d never apologized in his life. Surely, that couldn’t be true. He couldn’t really be that much of an asshole. Could he? Maybe he’d never done anything he had to apologize for—he liked that idea better—but he didn’t believe it.
Rico let out a short laugh. “If you’re thinking that hard, I’m guessing the answer is no. Well a simple, ‘Tannis, I’m sorry for being a dickhead and not following your excellent orders,’ will suffice.”
Callum turned the words over in his mind. They sounded painless enough. “I think I can do that.”
“You don’t sound too sure.”
“No, I’m good.”
“Excellent.”
“But will it be enough? She seemed pretty pissed-off.”
“Probably not. So you’re going to have to offer her something she wants.”
“What does she want?”
Rico seemed to think for a moment, and Callum got the distinct impression he was considering what to say. What did Tannis want? And why wouldn’t the vampire come right out and say it? “More money might do it,” Rico said at last. “Tannis likes money.”
Hmm, Callum wasn’t buying that, Tannis hadn’t struck him as the mercenary type.
Rico must have seen his doubts. “She’s saving for the Meridian treatment.”
Shock hit him in the gut, though he didn’t know why. Most of the world’s population were saving for the Meridian treatment, so why not Tannis? Another, less pleasant thought occurred. Was that why she was fascinated by him? Because she was; he’d sensed her watching him. Was that because she wanted something from him—like everyone else in the goddamn universe? But as quickly as it had come, the idea vanished. If that had been the case, she would have been a little nicer to him. His hand came up to stroke his nose where she had punched him only fifteen minutes ago. No, he reckoned Tannis was the type who would say and do what she meant no matter what the consequences.
“So are we good?” Rico asked.
“Yeah. Money is one thing I have plenty of.” He studied Rico.
“Why are you doing this? I got the distinct impression that you would have preferred it if I’d never come on board.”
“That may be true, but it’s too late now—you’re here.” For a moment, Rico was silent and Callum presumed he wasn’t going to get an answer, then Rico shrugged. “For as long as I’ve known her, Tannis has had a dream. Now she’s giving up on it, and I don’t believe she’s ready to let go.” He took a step closer and poked a finger at Callum’s chest. “But you fuck-up her dreams, and I will kill you.” He smiled with a flash of fang. “That sound like a good deal to you?”
“You could try.”
“And I’m betting I’d succeed. You’ve grown soft, forgotten what it’s like to live on the edge.”
He was probably right. But from now on, that was changing.
Callum was going to toughen up.
“So what are we waiting for?” Rico said. “Go to it, fly-boy.
And when you apologize, try and look as though you’re sorry.”
Callum forced his features into what he hoped was an expression of contrition.
“Christos,” Rico muttered. “But I suppose that’s going to have to do.”
…
Tannis stared into the viewer. Callum stood in the corridor, hands in his pockets, and for the first time she had ever seen him, the ingrained arrogance was missing from his features. She couldn’t quite work out what had replaced it, and she frowned.
Why hadn’t Rico got him off the ship, and why weren’t they in the air by now?
He pressed the buzzer again, and her hand hovered over the panel as she tried to decide whether to let him in. But she’d downed half of Rico’s flask of whisky, and she was feeling way too mellow to be mean.
In the end, she decided to open the door, tell him to get off her ship—again—and go back and finish the rest of the flask. With a bit of luck, she’d pass out, and when she woke, this whole thing would be in the past. She could forget about Callum and Meridian and…
She slammed her palm down and the door slid open.
“I’m sorry,” Callum said.
The words didn’t make sense. Not coming out of that particular mouth anyway. “Pardon?”
He took a deep breath. “Tannis, I’m sorry for being a dickhead and not following your excellent orders.”
Still no sense. She put her hand back on the panel and the door shut. Leaning her back against the wall, she closed her eyes and fought the need to lie down—she was obviously hallucinating.
The buzzer sounded again. She straightened, turned to face the door, and placed her palm on the panel.
“Get off my ship.”
“Can I come in first? There’s something I need to say to you.”
When she continued to stand there, unmoving, a small frown flickered across his face as though he didn’t quite know what to do next. “Please?”
Shock made her stand aside. She was guessing she might be one of the only people in the civilized universe who had heard Callum Meridian say the word “please”.
He stepped past her into the room and looked around. “Hey, this is n
ice. It suits you. You going to shut the door?”
“No.”
Unease shifted inside her. No way was she going to change her mind, but this nice guy approach made her nervous. She stared at him through her lashes, and he shifted then cleared his throat.
“As I said—I’m sorry.”
“As I said—get off my ship.”
“I won’t do it again. From now on, I follow orders.”
Tannis snorted. “Yeah, right.”
She moved across to the table and picked up the half-empty flask, took a swallow.
“Can I?” He nodded at the flask, and she shrugged.
“Why not?”
He took a sip, coughed, took a gulp.
“Jesus, that’s good. It’s a long time since I tasted whiskey.
Where the hell did you get it? I thought this stuff was illegal.”
“Rico and the Trog make it. Rico designed some sort of set-up, and the Trog built it.”
He took another swig. “How about I double the fee?”
She was so tempted. But the trouble was she knew it wasn’t the money tempting her. Or not only the money—he was talking a huge sum. But at the thought of him staying, something unraveled inside her, and some of the cold hard lump of despair in her middle dissolved. And that was dangerous, because however amenable he appeared right now, that wasn’t who he was. He was a politician; he’d no doubt been using the art of manipulation since before the Earth had died.
Still, she was tempted.
The wings were folded neatly against his back, she could see the tips above his broad shoulders, and down beside his long muscular thighs. He wore what looked like a pair of Rico’s black leather pants and a sleeveless T-shirt that probably belonged to Jon—Rico never wore T-shirts—that he’d somehow managed to get on over the wings. She’d really have to ask him how he managed that. Or she would if it wasn’t for the fact that he was leaving five minutes ago. His shoulders and arms were bare, the skin smooth and golden over the swell of muscle.
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