by Kim Knox
Ramius tested his confinement, grinning when he found none. “Strip,” he ordered.
Chance blinked and the fire licking under her skin flared. He couldn’t mean…
“Your prison suit. You won’t get five metres before it cripples you.”
“Right,” she muttered, focusing her thoughts on breaking the bond to the tight fabric. She tugged it from her skin, shrugging out of it to expose the overly modest underwear the detention centre insisted upon. She turned her thoughts to his suit, feeling the connection snaking in thin wires over his body. Chance crushed her eyes shut, wishing her tracing thoughts didn’t feel as if fingertips ran over his lithe body. With a snap, she broke the connections and let out a slow breath. She held his gaze. “Your turn to strip.”
He let out a soft laugh as he yanked at the front of his suit. “Best offer I’ve had in a while.”
Chance tried not to wet her lips and failed. The weak light washed over his chest and taut abdomen. Ramius had kept himself in shape during his long incarceration. She also tried not to follow the enticing trail of dark hair down and to stop herself from staring at the tight, white shorts he wore…and what they covered—
“You really don’t seem to have a problem with me being a convicted murderer.”
Chance tore her gaze away from his lickable skin. “I’m shallow. I see a body I want.” She ran a hand through her short hair, wanting to hate that she really was so superficial…but when presented with a very edible man, that emotion became impossible. “Life is too short not to take what you need.”
He pushed out a slow breath, and she felt the sudden rise in tension. “Move to my seat.”
She complied, sliding over to the next bucket chair. She hissed as her bare legs brushed his, a brief flare of sharp awareness shooting under her skin. Ramius frowned and dropped into her vacated seat without a word.
Chance held back a sigh. So sex wasn’t on the agenda, now and, from the tight line of his jaw, probably not in the foreseeable future. She pushed down her disappointment and stamped sensible thoughts over it. He’d said it himself. He was a convicted murderer.
“Too long without a man. Far too long.” The thought burned in her brain. Yes, her choice had been limited. There’d only been her guards or a brief respite from solitary when she mixed with the other prisoners in the exercise chamber. No one had caught her eye…and she’d screw herself before she fucked a guard. She would never be that desperate.
“Get ready.” His firm, quiet voice broke through her preoccupation with sex. “Martine Callis has a record that the chancellor would want to dwell on…but there are a lot of prisoners to get through today.”
Chance stared at him. “How do you know this?”
“Information used to be my job.” His shoulders dropped and his fingers flexed against his thighs. “I’ll take care of the guards. We strip them and head for the docking clamps. You use your skill to get us onto a ship.” His gaze slid over her body, hard, assessing, and Chance suddenly felt exposed and nervous. Men looked at her for sex, nothing more, nothing deeper, and she preferred it that way. She resisted the need to move her arms to cover her near-nakedness. “You’re on the small side for a guard, but that can’t be helped.” He frowned. “Is all that understood?”
She gave him a brief nod.
“Good. Ready?”
Chapter Two
The wing doors of the transport hissed and swung out. Ramius was a blur of movement, leaping from the transport to kick, punch the guards to the floor. She couldn’t focus on him…and neither could the practically defenceless guards. Chance winced at the crunch of bone and cartilage, the cut-off grunts. Blood splattered him, the floors, the wall in fine arcs. The four men twitched, lying contorted on the metal floor of the holding pen.
Chance scrambled out of the seat and set about stripping the smaller of the four men. “You’re augmented.” She grunted as she rolled the heavy man over and pulled his short black jacket and shirt from his back and down his arms. “I thought that was illegal tech.”
Ramius shrugged into the shirt he’d stripped and quick fingers pressed the tabs into place. “Under Jovian law, yes.” He swung on the jacket and unbuckled the unconscious guard’s holster belt. The boots and trousers followed.
Chance concentrated on yanking the boots off her guard. She gagged at the ripe stench of his hot feet, and it took her mind off of what Ramius had just revealed. There was only one planet where augments were legal. That meant he wasn’t a grubby colonist. He was elite. From Earth. The holster, belt and trousers followed and then she stamped into unpleasantly damp boots, strapping them tight to her calves. Ramius had already heaved the first guard into his bucket seat. He grabbed the second and rolled him into her chair. Stripping the third and fourth of their weapons, Ramius heaved first one, then the other into the back of the transport and secured them.
“Reactivate the security film.”
Chance focused and reconnected the device. A silver sheen shot over the naked men and the other secured guards. Ramius shut the doors to the craft and jammed the helmet onto his head. She did the same, fastening the chinstrap.
Ramius’ fingers slid over the butt of the weapon strapped to his thigh. “Ready? Work your magic on the doors.”
Chance jerked a nod and followed him to the doors. She tripped the familiar circuits and the narrow panels folded back to reveal the curve of the main outer corridor of the detention base. The doors slid back behind them, and Chance fused the mechanism. Tech was easy to manipulate, and if that were all it took to get off the base, then she would’ve escaped the afternoon they shipped her in. No, she needed Ramius’ brawn as much as he needed her tech savvy.
She tried to match his stride and hoped she didn’t look as idiotic as she felt. Nerves twisted into a tight knot in her stomach. Tech streamed around her, pulsed against the exposed skin of her hands, her neck. The visor on her helmet masked the glare of the lights running along the floor and curved ceiling. Too much raw energy swept around her, a side effect of her opening herself to it.
“You have access to the schematic of the base?” Ramius voice was hard, just rising above a mutter.
Her gaze slid to him, shielded by the visor. He knew the schedule of the court…but he didn’t have a map out? “You don’t?”
“I have the layout. Not the live stream that’s beating through your head right now.” His voice continued in the same low, controlled tone. “Stay alert.” He paused. “Have they found the guards yet?”
“No. Martine is still in the dock. As you predicted, the chancellor is enjoying the chance to harangue her over her record.”
Ramius nodded, his hand itching over the butt of his gun. The unfamiliar weight of hers dragged at her leg and every stride made her aware of it. She hated guns. Hated them. Chance focused and the schematic flowed over her brain. More information streamed as she broke into the restricted levels. “The public bays have too much security. Do they think someone wants to break you out?” She couldn’t help the grin that curved her lips, and it deepened as the security details for the smaller docking clamps hit her brain. “How do you feel about jacking the chancellor’s private transport?”
Ramius glanced at her, his eyes hidden behind the blankness of his visor…but a bleak smile cut his mouth. “It’s fast?”
“The good chancellor likes his machines sleek and hot. It’s a Maro Vitesse.” She gave a slow whistle, and her skin burned. Chance dreamed of a transport with the quality and incredible shiny-factor of a Vitesse. Only the richest could afford its beauty. And the chancellor’s had an extra, heart-pounding attraction. “From the log details, he’s upgraded to the latest model. Dark energy propulsion.” A laugh escaped her. No, she wasn’t reading that wrong. “I thought that was a myth.”
“Dark energy is no myth,” Ramius muttered. “So the new outer governor treats his cronies well.” Bitterness coated his words. Ramius and the outer governor had history…and Chance didn’t want to know. That was their busi
ness. “You can hook up?”
“Are you kidding me?” She knew he glared at her, but that was something else she didn’t care about. Her fingers itched, the first sign of her need to put her skills to work. “And I’ll take it as payment.”
“Really?” He followed her sharp turn down a side corridor. Security doors flashed open, and the dark convex of the docking bay curved away from them. “You need to prove yourself for that payment.”
Chance stopped at the first intersection, her hand pressing briefly against Ramius’ sleeve. He stilled, the muscles in his arm steel under her light touch. “Something’s…” The doors slammed behind them, a second, non-network shield crashing down, sealing them into the convex. The lighting dropped to auxiliary, and the repetitive high-pitched burst of the alarm system beat through her blood. “They know we’re out.”
“So it would seem.” He gripped his weapons and primed them, the sharp whine setting Chance’s teeth on edge. “Which way?”
Chance focused, her thoughts reaching out for the stream…but she found it thinning, until, with a final splutter, the rush of information surging through her brain died. She cursed and fought to retain what knowledge had flowed through her. “They’ve locked everything down.” Sweat edged her brow, sticking her hair to her skin, and she ached to yank off the bloody helmet. “Our advantage is gone.” She pointed to the left, the narrow corridor curving into darkness. “Connor’s ship is that way.”
“You’re sure?”
Her fingers itched, and not in the good “I’m going to steal something” way. Not having the certainty of the information made her heart thud, but she would lie to and cheat her own grandmother—if she’d ever had one—for her chance to own a dark energy Vitesse. “I’m sure.”
Ramius’ weapons flashed beams of stark white light that cut through the heavy shadow ahead of them. The corridor led into a network of frames and docking clamps. Chance tugged at her memory. They’d docked the chancellor in the first bay, and the logs had a gaggle of his personal guard assigned. Personal guards tended to be all bluster and far too quick to show their clients that they were worth their exorbitant fee.
The two sharp beams of light cut over a turn in the corridor. Data should have streamed over the smooth walls, but the light showed only the gilded image of the radiating sun. Shit, the new outer governor really had plastered himself everywhere.
Chance yanked off her helmet and ran her fingers through her damp hair. She pulled in her first clean breath, the air cold and sharp in her lungs. “Connor’s personal guard are…were…stationed outside the Vitesse.”
Ramius fingers flexed around his guns and his shoulders lifted. “How many?”
“From the log, eight.”
Chance tugged at her shirt button, and the chilled air ran goose bumps over her throat and exposed collarbone. The guards would be jumpy and far too ready to cut Ramius down. A Vitesse needed two to fly it, a pilot and a commander. She was about to ensure that they both got onto the transport.
Chance pushed open more buttons on her shirt and tried not to think about what she was about to do. The manic beat of her heart and the sweat coating her spine were obvious signs she was being more than reckless. She’d pushed over into insanity.
He let out a low curse. “All right. Stay…” His quiet words trailed away, and he stared at her. “What the hell are you doing?”
Chance put the helmet on the floor, pushing it to the shadowed wall with her foot. She unstrapped the weapon and handed it to Ramius. “You blaze around that corner and I don’t care what your reputation is, they will cut you down. I need you to get off this detention centre.” Her fingers undid her trousers and she kicked off the damp boots with relief. “I round that corner, wearing practically skin…” The guard’s uniform dropped over the helmet, and she gripped the loose cotton slip in tight fingers and tugged. The thin fabric ripped, exposing her left breast. “And I provide the few necessary seconds of distraction.” She made a wry smile pull at her mouth and denied the fear in her gut. She was bargaining with the Butcher. Her life was insane. “Then you can do your thing.”
He frowned and she had to wonder whether he was staring at her cold-peaked nipple. Bloody visor. “You just plan to saunter around the corner—”
“Saunter, no.” Chance pulled in a tight breath and her itching fingers curled into her palms. She should feel cold, but the adrenalin rush had her skin hot. The thrill of theft could be as addictive as sex, but this wasn’t theft. “Whatever I say, I’m not giving you up.”
“I know how this works, Chance.”
“Good. Right. Glad you do.” She willed herself to walk down the dimly light corridor, the red gleam of the auxiliary lighting staining her skin like blood. “Not a good omen,” she muttered under her breath. Her bare feet were silent on the smooth, metal floor, years of habit making her slink through the shadows.
Brighter light splashed across the floor from a side corridor, and Chance stopped. She ran fingers through her damp hair and pulled at her thin strap, dropping it over her shoulder. Flicking a glance behind her…she found only silence and darkness. Ramius had melted away, making himself ready.
Her heart hammered. It was this, or she died in the vacuum of space. And that made her decision for her. Chance wasn’t ready to die.
She broke into a run, forcing out hard, loud breaths. “Help me!” Skidding into the light, Chance found eight Etuis-90s clacking into life. She stared at their wide barrels pointed unerringly at her head and heart. A single Etuis-90 would cut her in two. Eight would obliterate her. She didn’t have to act her terror.
Chance’s arms shot up into the air, and she was fully aware of how her exposed breast jiggled. Two of the guards shifted, their fingers flexing around the wide barrels.
“Please…” Her voice quavered and she swallowed. She curled her fingers into fists, knuckles straining white. “I got away from him. Please don’t shoot me.”
A guard with gold epaulettes straightened and eased his weapon down. “Got away?” He waved at his men to lower their guns. The irritating whine faded to silence. The senior guard’s brow furrowed, and he couldn’t keep the scepticism from his hard voice. “From John Ramius?”
She gave a quick shrug and three guards had eyes fixed on her chest. “He’s been in solitary for a year.”
“You took on Ramius?” The senior guard stepped forward, his Etuis primed as he swept the corridor she stood in. He found nothing, the sharp beam of light slicing through emptiness. His gaze turned to her again, and disbelief narrowed his eyes. “You dropped him?”
Chance snorted. “Even a mass murderer is going to drop when you bite his dick.” A muscle jumped in the guard’s cheek, and the other men winced. “Look, I reckon my helping you capture John Ramius has to be worth something to that old crow Connor. At least enough to stop me getting spaced.” Her gaze flitted over their smart, black uniforms, more ceremonial than the utilitarian and tough uniforms of the detention guards. She played on that difference. “You’re elite. Not the grunts who man this base. Whoever you’re contracted to will have the favour of the outer governor. I win, you win, they win.” She swallowed, but still the senior guard’s stark face formed a hard mask. “Just saying…”
“Where did you leave him?”
“By the security doors. They crashed down, distracted him, and I grabbed my chance.” She pointed into the darkness, stepping back as the senior guard moved towards her. Her arms dropped and she wrung her hands together, rubbing warmth into her chilled fingers. “I didn’t hear him come after me.”
“You three.” He jabbed fingers at three of the men. “Guard the transport. The rest with me.” He grabbed Chance’s arm. “You too.”
She tried to pull away, but his gloved fingers formed steel bands around her upper arm. “Can’t I stay here? He’s the Butcher…”
“You’re my distraction.”
“I heard the rumours about what he did to those soldiers.” She stumbled after him, but the senior
guard released her and pushed a hard hand into her back. Bastard was more than happy to use her as a human shield. She staggered and caught herself before she fell. “How’s he going to feel about a woman who bit him?”
The guard laughed. “He’s insane. He probably liked it.”
Behind her, the dull thump of boots echoed over the smooth walls, the rustle of their clothes and the whine of weapons mixing with it. Hell, she could even smell their sharp cologne on the still, cold air. Ramius was sure to hear them…unless of course he’d taken his chance to escape another way.
Her stomach cramped. If he’d run, they’d shoot her. Yes, her life was insane.
Chapter Three
The sharp white light from the Etius-90s crisscrossed the air and floor in front of her. Chance’s heart thudded loud in her ears and she felt the pull of cold air into her body with each shallow breath. Damn it, what the hell was he waiting for? She had five of them in tow.
A hard hand grabbed her ankle and dragged her down. She hit the wall. Her scream of terror lost itself in the rapid blasts arcing over her head, fierce blisters of light searing her eyes. Chance curled into a tight ball and wrapped her hands and arms around her head. Men screamed, and the stink of seared flesh shrank her in on herself. Not this. Not again. Terror racked her and she fought down the rising bile.
How shit was her life? Seriously. How the hell had she fallen into it? Her nails dug into her scalp. Oh yeah, her chip didn’t work, and her family—no she blocked that thought—she could never resist temptation—
A hand dragged at her arm and she shrieked.
“Let’s get moving.”
Ramius yanked off his visored helmet and let it drop to the floor. He frowned at her, his face thick with shadow and sweat. She let out a breath and willed her panicked heart to slow. Did she really need proof that her life was crazy? She was relieved that the murdering psychopath had survived. Proof enough.
“Here.” He shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it over her shoulders. Chance slid her arms into the warmed, thick material, the rough nap itching over her cold skin. Ramius took her hand, hot fingers sending a shiver up her arm. “Come on. The way’s clear.”