Barron's Last Stand (The Black Wing Chronicles Book 3)

by JC Cassels

  His lips tightened and he punched the bag, more out of frustration than fitness. Considering his next words, he shook his fist at the line of tape that fortified a section worn thin by use. He tapped the line with the side of his hand one last time. His smile filled with self-mockery, he flattened his palm against the bag and absently stroked the edge of the tape with his thumb.

  “Do you honestly think that you haven’t been in my thoughts every day for the past five years?”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I’ve hardly given you a thought.”

  There. See what that does for his monumental ego.

  “Now who’s lying?”

  Bo looked away.

  “It wasn’t all bad, was it?” The naked vulnerability in his voice tore at her. Never, in any role, had he sounded so uncertain, or so hurt.

  She slowly turned her head to look at him.

  “You never once said you loved me, Bo. Did you ever?”

  “If I did, you’re the last person I’d admit it to.”

  “Do you hate me that much?”

  Unbidden, the memory of Larianne, Blade’s tall, sexy handler, sprang to mind. The woman oozed sensuality, and she took malicious delight going into intimate detail about her affair with Blade. The pain flooded back. That day had cost Bo dearly. Not a waking moment went by that she didn’t still pay the price for trusting him.

  “I suppose if I gave you any thought at all, I would.”

  His smile held no humor, only a hint of self-mockery. “There’s no hope for us, then, is there?”

  Bo shook her head. “None.”

  He pushed away from the bag. “In that case, let’s have it out.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “You hate me,” he said. “I can see in your eyes that you want to beat the shit out of me.” He shrugged. “Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I’ve got it coming. What’s stopping you?”

  “You’re insane.”

  “So what if I am? I’m right. I’m always right.”

  “You’re not goading me into a fight, Blade.”

  “I’m not trying to goad you into anything,” he said. “We used to spar. Let’s have a spar. Tape up your hands. Let’s go.” He arched an eyebrow at her in challenge. “You’ll feel better.”

  For five years, Bo had buried her hurt and anger. Five long years, it had been eating a hole in her soul. Now the very source of her misery all but begged her to unleash her pent-up emotions on him. Her right hand curled into a fist.

  A small smile touched his lips. “Do you need help taping your hands?”

  Bo straightened and rolled her shoulders, loosening tense muscles. “No,” she said. “I’ve got this.”

  With a slow, measured tread, Bo walked over to the bench where he’d tossed the roll of tape. With a small grimace at her bruised and bleeding knuckles, she picked up the tape and carefully wrapped it around her hands, adding a few extra passes over her tender areas. She didn’t bother to look at him as he took down the heavy bag and cleared the floor. His mood defied analysis. His technique, on the other hand, begged for it.

  It had been a long time since she’d sparred with anyone. She got enough practice fighting for her life.

  On the plus side, the heavier-than-standard gee aboard ship could work to her advantage. Most spacers didn’t rely on heavier gees to keep fit. Blade had already complained about the ship’s artificial gravity. If he wasn’t used to working out in it, it would exhaust him quickly.

  Setting the tape on the bench, Bo flexed and curled her hands, acclimating to the feel of it. The adhesive pulled on the raw edges of her injuries, but otherwise caused no problem. Shaking out her arms, she closed her eyes. She could live with the minor twinges.

  In the past, Blade had always relied on a combination of upper body strength and leverage. He preferred to attack and withdraw, luring his opponent inside. Bo glanced over her shoulder. He was already loose from working out. Judging from the ferocity of his attack on the heavy bag, he’d been at it a while. His breathing had been labored, which meant he’d been pushing himself hard. She had the benefit of being relatively fresh, if not loose.

  She stepped onto the mat and faced him.

  His stamina had always been good.

  So had hers.

  He’d been dropping his shoulder when working the bag on the inside. Did he realize he was doing that?

  He looked her over with a small smile. “Leaving your boots on?”

  “This won’t take long.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. He settled into a defensive posture and waited.

  Careful to keep her expression closed. Bo lifted her hands and shifted her weight.

  A spar like this was ninety percent mental. He obviously expected her to attack as she always had. He was going to be disappointed. Bo cleared her mind and settled in to wait, focusing on her slow, even breathing.

  The two of them stared at each other for several long moments, neither moving, scarcely blinking. Bo kept her gaze on his face, content to wait for him to understand that the parameters had changed. A glimmer of emotion flickered across the periphery of his face and disappeared. Bo’s heart accelerated. She was already shifting her weight onto her back foot when he struck out at her in the first attack combination. None of them landed.

  Squelching a surge of elation, Bo changed direction a split second in advance of his next attack. Using her momentum, she spun on the ball of her foot and kicked, driving the edge of her boot into the side of his knee. Off-balance, he dropped his elbow to protect his ribs. Bo stepped into the attack and drove her fist into his face.

  He pivoted, bringing his torso around and lifting his forearms to block.

  She leaped back just ahead of his counterattack and danced a few steps away, shaking the blood back into her stinging hand.

  He touched the back of his hand to his cheek and glanced at the smear of blood across the white tape.

  If she was any judge of injuries, he was going to have a hell of a black eye.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  Bo lifted her chin slightly. “I’m just getting started.”

  With a small nod, he resumed his attack.

  She hated to tell him, but she had learned so much since they’d parted. Unlike him, Bo hadn’t mastered any particular technique. She had, however, mastered the art of reading her opponent and changing her style mid-combat. In a level slugfest, she would never stand a chance against Blade, or any other Predator for that matter. Predators tended to be arrogant about their training and slow to deviate. Blade was well on his way to fatigue before they started. All she had to do was let him wear himself out. Once he was close to exhaustion, she would have the upper hand.

  Hitting and feinting, Bo landed enough blows to keep him interested before dancing out of reach and dodging his attacks. He relied on his upper body strength, so she picked at his legs whenever possible, particularly his knees.

  He, on the other hand, pulled his punches and hesitated, as though he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her.

  Too bad for him.

  Bo feinted to her left. He pivoted to meet her. She spun and landed behind him, her left fist catching him solidly below his ear. The force of impact jarred through her bones. Something cracked. Blade stumbled away from her. Without waiting to see which way he was going to swing, Bo presented her right side and skipped out of his reach.

  Blade took two more steps, his hand out to catch himself. His knees gave way and he landed face down on the mat. He didn’t move.

  Flexing her throbbing left hand, Bo watched him, waiting for his next attack. The ache in her hand slowly eased. He still hadn’t budged.

  “Blade, get up,” she said. “I’m not going to fall for that.”

  Nothing.

  She kicked his foot.

  Not so much as a flinch.

  “Get up.”

  She kicked his foot again. A chill coursed through her as it occur
red to her this was no ruse.

  “Blade?”

  “Is he dead?”

  Bo glanced over her shoulder. Nix stood in the hatch, his eyes wide with fear.

  “What’s the penalty for killing a Predator?”

  Her anger with Blade fled as a wave of fear rolled over her. Forgetting her hand, she knelt beside him. His face was unnaturally pale. She carefully rolled him onto his back and checked his vitals. Some of her initial fear ebbed when she verified both pulse and respiration.

  “Nix, get me a medipak!”

  The boy’s footsteps thundered away.

  “Dev? Can you hear me?”

  Still no response.

  “Dev? Damn! Please let this not be serious.”

  Panic threatened to choke her, blinding her to everything but the man in front of her. Her fault. She’d done this.

  “Baby, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Please wake up.” She leaned down and tenderly kissed him.

  At the first touch of her lips, his slack mouth responded. With a small gasp, she broke away and scrambled backward, arms raised to defend herself.

  “I like that,” he whispered. He drew a deep breath and sighed. His mouth curved in a small smile. “Do that again.”

  Bo glanced anxiously toward the thankfully empty hatch. “Apologize?”

  “Kiss me.”

  She opened her mouth to deny it, but his groan cut her off.

  His eyes fluttered open, and his humor soured.

  “Tell me the ship is spinning.” His words were thick and a little slurred, but he was lucid.

  She regarded him warily. In the past, he’d reacted violently upon regaining consciousness. This complacency was new, and disconcerting.

  Nix stumbled in with the medipak. “He’s awake?”

  “I am.” Blade looked around before looking to her once more. “Was I out long?”

  “Not long enough,” she muttered. “Can you sit up?”

  “Yeah.” He rolled onto his side and levered himself onto his hands and knees.

  Stubborn bastard. Not even a knock in the head eased his contrary nature.

  “That’s not sitting,” she said.

  “No. It’s halfway to standing.”

  Bo took his arm. “Nix, you get the other side.”

  Blade took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet, swaying drunkenly. Once his balance stabilized, Bo and Nix pulled his arms around their shoulders.

  “I’d ask you to dial the gravity down, but I think that would make me space-sick,” he said.

  “You’ve never been space-sick a day in your life,” she said. “Just focus on staying upright.”

  Steadying him, they walked him into the sickbay. Once there, he reached for the gyrotable, leaning heavily against it. Bo reached for the controls to help him onto the table, but he waved her away.

  “I’ll stand for this, if you don’t mind,” he said. “Sundance, do your thing so I can go on about my business.”

  The medical arms lowered from the cluster on the ceiling and began circling him. Bo stepped out of the way, pulling the boy with her.

  “Standing is going to elevate your blood pressure,” she said. “You’re only making it harder on yourself.”

  “Are you going to lie down with me?” He glanced her way. “Injury like this…I’m going to need a nurse.”

  The medical arms moved in, humming as a blue glow passed over him, enhancing the gleam in his eyes.

  Bo shook her head, unable to contain the small smile that played about her lips. “You’re fine.”

  “Am I?” He arched an eyebrow. “How are we? Do you still hate me, or did you get it out of your system?”

  She sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “You were pulling your punches.” It was a statement, not a question.

  He broke eye contact, returning to his study of the medical equipment.

  “Well, I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said absently.

  “You didn’t…” She broke off shaking her head. “You idiot! I could have killed you.”

  His grin lacked its usual spark. “Nah. If you’d really wanted to kill me, I’d be dead.”

  He winked at the boy. “She’s shot me, beaten me up, knocked me out,” he said. “Still hasn’t come close to killing me. Everything considered, I’d say she likes me.”

  A wide grin split Nix’s face.

  Damn the man! He would not charm his way out of this one!

  Turning her ire on the weak link, she glared at the boy. “Didn’t I tell you below deck was off limits?” she said sharply. Too sharply.

  His grin faded. “But I heard a fight, and…”

  “If I catch you below deck again, you’ll be the one on the stretcher.”

  The boy’s nostrils flared and his mouth tightened. “Yes, ma’am.”

  With one last look to Blade, he stiffly stepped through the hatch.

  Blade’s lips twitched, but he wisely said nothing. He settled in to let the ship tend to his injuries.

  She had the odd feeling that, somehow, she’d just played into his hands.

  Bo stood back, watching, but her mind was on the maelstrom of emotions surging through her.

  “So, are you ready to trust me?” he asked, finally breaking the silence. “Or do you want to beat me up some more?”

  “I’d be taking a huge gamble trusting you.”

  “Would you really?” His velvet tone touched her like a lover’s caress.

  Bo swallowed. A jolt of excitement thrummed across her nerve endings, raising chill bumps along her flesh.

  He smiled as though he could read her every reaction on her face.

  “So, you want to beat me up some more?”

  Her face heated. Bo turned away from him.

  How did he do that? How did he project his energy enough to fill a room?

  Damn actor!

  She needed space to think.

  She took two steps toward the hatch before she turned.

  “What do you want from me, Blade? Can you at least be honest with me about that?”

  His smile faded. Pushing away from the exam table, he brushed the medical assembly aside.

  “What do I want?” he echoed. “I want you to tell me you love me – just once.”

  “Is that some bizarre way you have of keeping score?”

  “Keeping…” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You are the most exasperating woman I have ever met!”

  “Because I won’t melt at your feet whenever you smile – like your adoring public does?”

  “Because I have told you every way I know how that I love you, and you are still too stubborn to see it!”

  “You say you love me and you still have other women. I can’t be with a man who has to have other women. I have to be enough!”

  His brow furrowed in confusion. He lifted his hands in surrender. “What other women? I haven’t even looked at another woman since the day I met you!”

  “You and that handler of yours have been carrying on for years!” she snapped.

  “Ian? He’s not exactly my type.”

  Bo growled. “Don’t be obtuse! I’m talking about that woman,” she spat.

  “What woman?”

  “The…woman! You know…” Bo gesticulated angrily. “The…tall one! Larianne!”

  “Larianne.” Blade rested his hands on his hips. “You think I’m having an affair with Larianne?” Chuckling, he shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you my love, but I’m not into necrophilia.”

  The word cut through her anger.

  “Necro-what?”

  “Necrophilia. It means…”

  “I know what it means!” She cut him off. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I’m not sure whether telling you is going to help my case or make it worse.” He lifted an eyebrow. “But how much worse can it get, right?”

  Not this. No games. Bo turned to leave.

  “Larianne killed your father.”

  Bo stopped in he
r tracks. She didn’t look at him.

  “She hit Royce and Bhruic with a neural scrambler. While they were both conscious, aware, and incapable of fighting her, she took the ceremonial dagger from the display on the wall in the Barron’s office, put it in Royce’s hand – Royce’s right hand – and stabbed your father fifteen times.”

  Bo’s jaw clenched. “Royce is left-handed.”

  “I know.”

  Bo slowly turned. “The security footage was never recovered.”

  “That was the official word. Doesn’t make it true.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I’m the one who recovered it,” he said.

  “When?”

  “Shortly after my wife threw me out.”

  Bo bit her cheek and nodded. “Five years. So where is it?”

  “Someplace safe,” he said.

  “Where?”

  “I can’t tell you that, Bo,” he said.

  “Why not? Don’t you think I have a right to know?”

  “If I thought you didn’t have the right to know, I wouldn’t have broken protocol and told you this much.”

  “So…what? Are you going to auction it off? Are you going to offer it to me in exchange for what…taking you back?”

  He flinched. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

  “I’m not the one planning to use it for leverage.” His tone cold, he spoke with strained patience. “Our relationship aside, you need to be The Barron and look at this objectively.”

  “You’re going to lecture me on how to be The Barron?”

  “Shut up and think,” he snapped. “You’ve got a good head for strategy. Why don’t you use it?”

  He pushed away from the gyrotable and brushed past her.

  “Where do you think you’re going? We’re not finished yet!”

  “To take a look at the enviro systems.” He glanced over his shoulder. “It’s why you came looking for me in the first place.”

  Bo’s face heated with embarrassment. She glared after him.

  A Commonwealth full of mercenaries and hardened criminals, and she had to be stuck with the only one who could make her feel like a green recruit one second and turn her inside out with a look and a smile the next.