by JC Cassels
“What kind of issues?”
“Trust, for a start,” he said. “There was a time you trusted me, even though you knew I lied to you. I don’t want to lie anymore, Bo. I don’t want there to be any more secrets between us. The next time I stand naked in front of you, it’ll be without deceit, without prevarication, completely honest and transparent. You will see the real me, not an illusion, not a role I’m playing, and you will never have another reason to doubt my feelings for you. We’ve put ourselves through too much to settle for anything less than that.”
With a purposeful glint in her eye, she lifted her chin. “Then for your sake I hope there’s another bed because, by your own rules, I won’t be sharing this one with you, not now, not ever.” With a tiny, dismissive nod, she brushed past him.
His lips twitched. “I’m a patient man, Bo.”
The lav door slid open and she paused beside it. “Good.” Turning, she favored him with an impish smile. “Because you’re going to wait a very long time for me to ever trust you again.”
The door slid shut behind her, effectively ending the conversation.
Blade grinned to himself. Her disappointment hung thick in the air around them. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her. The Sentaro didn’t lie. He would earn her trust, even if it took the rest of his life.
He reached into one of the bags sitting on the gleaming floor and pulled out her gunbelt. He drew her Capre from its holster and carelessly tossed the weapon back into her bag. He shoved her gunbelt into the bag containing his purchases and tucked it under his arm.
“I’ll be back in time for our reservation,” he called out.
The lav door slid open.
“What…” she hesitated, her eyes widening with surprise to find him standing so close. “What reservation?”
“Dinner.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Starlight?” Leaning closer, he stretched out a finger and lifted the heavy necklace that lay against her collarbone. “The reason I bought you this?”
Her pupils dilated. The pulse at her throat visibly jumped. Her lips parted as her stare settled on his mouth, so near her own.
Drawn by the warmth of her skin, he flattened his hand against her chest. It rose and fell with each breath. His hand slid along her velvet flesh, over her shoulder and underneath her hair. He pulled her closer to him and covered her mouth with his own. Her lips softened under his gentle onslaught, parting at the first touch of his tongue. He plundered the sweet depths.
Her fingers curled around his wrist, not to push him away, but to hold him close. She leaned into him, surrendering to his touch.
Maker, but she tempted him beyond all reason. The bed…so close. It would be so easy. She was so willing.
His lips left hers and traced the curve of her cheek.
“Do you love me?” he whispered hoarsely.
“I…” She pressed closer to him. Her mouth sought his, but he denied her the prize.
“Do you love me?”
“I want you,” she breathed softly.
His resolve wavered.
“I want you, too.”
The sexy, throaty moan she made in reply sent his blood flowing away from his brain. On the verge of losing all control and dragging her to the bed, he lifted his head. “But do you love me?”
Her face was flushed with desire. She gazed up at him, her amber eyes glazed with want for him.
“I love you, Bo. I need to hear you say that you love me.”
Pain, and regret, warred with passion on her face. “I…can’t…”
Her refusal hit him like a cold blast of water, cooling his ardor. Releasing her, he stepped away. “Then I can’t do this,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Setting his jaw, he pushed past his desire and headed for the door. Once he’d put a safe distance between them, he turned. “I mean it, Bo. I don’t want anything standing between us. I need you to trust me enough to tell me you love me. I’m not settling for anything less than all of you this time. I’m willing to wait for that.” He nodded toward the bags on the floor. “Don’t forget to try on that dress. And don’t leave this suite until I get back, understand?”
“What if you get into trouble?”
He winked at her. “My love, I’ve been in trouble since the day we met.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nix stabbed the hunk of meat with his fork. Juice oozed from the holes and dribbled along the furrows of sinew, pooling on the plate and commingling with the other liquids there. There was nothing wrong with the cut of meat. Quite the opposite. Even aboard ship, his brother was noted for his appreciation of the finer luxuries, the best cuts of meat, the most sought-after wines, the most decadent desserts.
The problem lay in the company.
He risked a glance across the length of the table at Gray, holding court at the far end with a pair of men in suits. Hard-bitten mercenaries were one type of threat. These men were something else entirely, something far more dangerous. Both of them had arrived separately in diplomatic cruisers, docking alongside Gray’s yacht somewhere in the middle of nowhere, well outside the regular shipping lanes.
They’d regarded him warily until Gray introduced him as his kid brother whom he was training to take a leadership role once the expansion was completed and stabilized. After that, they’d spoken quite freely around him. The bald one, they called him Regent, had smiled and rested a hand on his shoulder in a fatherly manner, telling Nix that he was preparing his own son for a leadership role in the expansion, whatever that meant.
Much of what they discussed went over Nix’s head and he was content to let it do so. But when Bo’s name came up, he sat up straighter and listened more carefully.
“The deal was that I get her out of the way and you take down Redmaster Blue,” Gray said. “I wanted her for myself. If I’d known you were going to frame her for the attack on Marin, I’d never have agreed. You’ve made her too hot a commodity.”
“Console yourself with Redmaster Blue’s market share,” Regent said. “Barron cannot be allowed to live. She’s far too dangerous.”
“I was supposed to get their assets, too!” Gray snapped. “What good is market share when I don’t have the infrastructure to maintain it? Barron was one of Redmaster Blue’s most valued assets and you’ve gone and rendered her worthless to me.”
“That is your problem, Gray, not ours.” The craggy, paunchy, middle-aged man they called General shoveled a hunk of meat into his mouth. “That tussah has outlived her usefulness.”
Nix’s stomach turned at the sight of the man talking past his food.
“Given the current charges against her, it’s only a matter of time before someone either takes her down or brings her in,” Regent said. “We’ve been picking away at her support network for some time. Without Redmaster Blue, and disgraced in the eyes of the Black Wing, it’s only a matter of time before someone pulls her teeth and claws. She’s completely on her own now. Not even The Barron can stand alone against the full might of the Commonwealth and the Sub-socia.”
Tears stung Nix’s eyes. He ducked his head, seething with anger.
The men congratulated themselves for framing Bo. They laughed over the trouble they’d caused her.
Unable to take it another moment, Nix slammed his fork down and lifted his head.
“You think you’re all so clever!” he cried. “But she’s not alone! She’s The Barron! Scourge of the Seventh Sector! The Guardian himself is watching her back!”
“Nix! That’s enough!”
“What is he talking about?”
“Who is this Guardian?”
Gray held up a hand to placate his guests. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry. It seems my little brother has a bit of a crush on the lady.”
Regent leaned forward, his dark gaze pinned Nix to his seat. “What do you mean, she’s not alone?”
“She’d picked up some spacer while breaking Nix out of Akita,” Gray said. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Her mother was a Joy Babe…”
N
ix bristled. “She’s not like that! He’s not just some spacer!”
“Anyway…” Gray shot his brother a warning look. “I’ve already dealt with him. I’ve informed station security that an escaped inmate is aboard. They issued a warrant for his arrest.”
Regent’s gaze narrowed. “Who is this Guardian?” he asked.
“He’s nobody,” Gray said. “Nobody you have to worry about.”
“Does he have a name?”
Gray shrugged. “Blade Devon.”
General coughed, spitting his wine across the table.
Regent wiped at some droplets that clung to his sleeve.
“I thought your people dealt with him, General,” Regent said.
Still coughing, General dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.
“This could ruin everything,” Regent went on. “We can’t have those two working together. Especially now.”
“It’s unfortunate,” General gasped and cleared his throat. “But I expected he’d show up sooner or later. I’ve already taken steps to neutralize him.”
Regent’s lips curled in a mocking smile. “Yes, I remember your efforts to neutralize him. The man has a gift for survival. He’s taken out every assassin you’ve sent after him.”
“He’s a washed-up actor!” Gray said. “How much of a threat can he be?”
Regent sipped his wine and set the glass aside. “This actor was one of the youngest candidates ever to complete Predator training in the Inner Circle. He is possessed of exceptionally high intelligence and an extremely competitive nature. His psychological profile suggests that he may be a sociopath, though it is noted in the next paragraph that there is a large possibility of error. I don’t think anyone is quite sure what that means,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. “He has certifications in black ops, demolition, infiltration, and a specialty in wet work. He has a reputation for being ruthless and unstoppable.”
Gray snorted. “You make him sound like some kind horror story people tell children to give them nightmares.”
Regent smiled and sipped his wine again. “He has advanced medical training. He is an expert hovercyclist and ground pilot. Rumor has it he could qualify for wings from Barron Academy. He’s an expert marksman and has qualified with more weapons than I care to recall, not that he needs them. The man is a weapon unto himself. In short, Gray, this man is not only a threat, should he take it upon himself to come after you, he will be your worst nightmare incarnate.”
Gray gaped at the man.
“He’s no monster from a child’s story,” General said. “He’s flesh and blood. Everyone has a weakness. He’s no exception. You just have to know what that is and how to exploit it.”
Regent didn’t look impressed. “I certainly hope you’re right about it this time, General,” he said. “I’d hate to lose the game this close to the finish line.”
General smiled. “I’ve already taken care of it. I promise you, Devon will not be a problem.”
***
Down on the squalid spacer’s levels, a cheerful three-note melody rang out as Blade stepped into the electronics shop. His narrow gaze scanned the store, which was empty of customers. He made his way toward the unattended service counter. With a careful look around, he stepped around the counter, catching up the sting-bat that sat underneath the register. He moved swiftly to the side of the doorway leading into the stockroom, and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long. A Krotiri attendant exited the stockroom and looked around the shop. Finding it empty, a concerned look crossed his scaly green features and his long-fingered hand moved slowly toward the sting-bat’s erstwhile hiding place.
“Looking for this, Dilly?” Blade asked, holding up the weapon.
Dilly jumped in surprise and sagged against the counter.
“Blade, you scared me!” he chided.
Blade pointed the sting-bat at him like a saber. “Move another centimeter closer to that blaster and I’ll do more than scare you.”
With a grimace, Dilly pulled his hands out of the cabinet. “Now, Blade,” he said reasonably, “can’t we discuss this as friends.”
“We’re not friends, Dilly. Hell, I don’t even like you, but you do have something I want.”
“I don’t have it in stock,” the Krotiri said. His gill-flaps flared, showing a pinkish white lacy membrane.
“Of course you do,” Blade said, lowering the sting-bat. He gestured toward the stock room with it. “Let’s discuss this in the back where we can be more comfortable.”
Dilly slowly straightened and gestured politely for Blade to precede him. Blade shook his head and took a step back. With a sigh, Dilly led the way into the darkened stockroom. Blade tossed his finance card onto the workbench.
“I just broke out of Akita,” he said. “I need a complete arsenal.”
Avarice sparkled in the Krotiri’s red eyes. “Why didn’t you say so?”
Blade moved over to the well-lit wall holding blasters and other energy weapons. “Do you have any charged packs for the Mergent TJ-64?” he asked, eyeing one pistol in particular.
Dilly shook his head. “No, I only have charged packs for the Gehr 923.”
Blade frowned. He wasn’t a big fan of Gehr weapons. Pulling the Mergent TJ-64 from the rack, he flexed his hand around the grip and sighted down the barrel. Setting the sting-bat aside, he picked up a power pack and slid it home into the pistol grip until it clicked. He balanced the weapon in his hand, then set it on the workbench.
Dilly noted his choice and pulled a shoulder holster from the rack behind him. He handed it to Blade without comment.
Blade shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the workbench. He slid his arms through the straps and adjusted the shoulder holster’s fit.
Dilly plucked two more power packs from his inventory and set them beside the pistol.
“I’ll need a full complement of throwing knives and disks,” Blade said, scooping up the pistol and sliding it into the holster.
“These just came in…” Dilly pulled a black cloth bundle from a packing crate and unrolled it beside the blaster. The bundle fell back onto the tabletop with a satisfying thunk.
Blade examined the throwing knives and slid them back into the bundle with a nod. He pulled his jacket back on, adjusting it to fit over his holster. The fit was a little tighter than he remembered, but nothing he couldn’t work with.
“I’ll need a Pocket-Lite and a boot holster, along with a couple of extra charge packs, too.” He moved around the stockroom pulling various weapons, holsters and electronics from their places and setting them on the workbench.
“I hear someone’s been asking around about frying a Sovran,” Blade said, conversationally.
Dilly eyed him with a knowing smile. “That job hasn’t been shopped through regular channels,” he said. “There was a Rheeais named Clancy here a couple of weeks back looking for someone in particular.”
“Oh? Who?”
“The Barron.” Dilly nodded and tapped his gill-flap with one long finger.
Blade studied the heft of a long, heavy knife with a black hilt. “Did he find her?”
Dilly shook his head. “He left alive and disappointed,” he said. “Barron would have torn his throat out.” Glancing around, Dilly leaned closer, his voice dropped to a whisper. “I had a Blueback in here half a season ago asking about a Mergent Arms Capre X2S. Wanted to know where to find one.”
Blueback? Government agent?
Blade stilled and met Dilly’s red eyes. “What did you tell him?”
“I said you can’t. Mergent Arms only made three of them.”
“What did the Blueback say?”
Dilly shrugged. “Wanted to know if I knew where they were.”
“Do you?”
With a nod, Dilly smiled. “One was in the Mergent Arms museum, another is in a First Sector Councilor’s private collection, and the third is on The Barron’s hip.”
“You said ‘was’ in a museum…”
“Did you happen to get which sector the Blueback was working for?”
“He didn’t say,” Dilly replied. “But his accent was definitely Second Sector.”
Blade smiled. “Dilly, you just earned yourself an extra commission.”
He studied the pile of contraband and finally nodded. “I think that’ll do it,” he said. “Do you have any military surplus deployment bags?”
Dilly raised a finger, then bent down and retrieved one from another container. He set it on top of the pile.
Blade grinned and opened the bag. He nodded toward the card on the workbench. “Tally it up,” he said. “And add another ten thousand on the top for your trouble.”
With a smile, Dilly’s long fingers scooped up the card as Blade shoved the weapons and electronics equipment into the bag.
“A pleasure doing business with you, Blade,” Dilly said handing the card back to him.
“Next time, don’t be so jumpy,” Blade chided, hoisting the bag over his shoulder. With a nod, he slipped out through the front of the shop. Out of long habit, he glanced around to see if anyone was following him. Once assured he was not under surveillance, he headed for the lift platforms and caught one heading for the docking rings.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dim, gray-hued light bathed the well-heeled patrons of the posh dinner club on the upper level of Chiron Station. The young, the beautiful, the wealthy, and the famous jockeyed for attention, framed by the huge transparisteel ovals that provided diners with a view of the space traffic in the approach corridor to the station.
Bo’s gaze lifted to the framework that supported the transparisteel dome of the club’s ceiling. Her steps faltered and she slowed, awed by the effect of being surrounded by the black of deep space dotted with stars, and the hovering lights inside the dome that mimicked them, completing the illusion and giving the club its name. Starlight.