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

by JC Cassels

  Stoma had hardly achieved the level of success Blade had enjoyed as a holofeature hero. Despite Blade’s referring to himself as a has-been, the novelty of the two action/adventure heroes together at the same dinner club could only be a victory for Stoma. Add to the mix the potential payoff of finally snapping a holo of Blade Devon’s Joy Babe without her veil, and the holographers would hardly be able to resist.

  Shimsani had always deftly manipulated the media. She had been the one to realize the potential benefits to the both of them. Stoma, vain little bastard that he was, could hardly resist the opportunity to feed his inner attention whore.

  With only half an ear for Stoma’s vapid conversation, Blade nodded his thanks to the server who retrieved the bottle of wine from their second-tier seat. Danger shimmered in the air, setting his nerves on edge.

  The service areas of the club hummed with a rising activity. Liveried employees rushed to clear walkways. Others spoke in hushed tones with important patrons, removing them from harm’s way.

  He caught Bo’s eye and silently directed her attention to the discreet commotion. Her gaze swept the club, taking in his silent warning and evaluating the threat.

  Bo shifted in her seat, chafing under the tactical vulnerability of their position so close to the bandstand. Her gaze roamed the club and she made vaguely polite noises at lulls in Stoma’s monologue. She met her husband’s stare and her eyes narrowed in silent question.

  His lips twitched and he nodded imperceptibly toward Stoma and then the dance floor.

  It was enough for Bo.

  Taking a breath, she pulled her shoulders back and conjured a seductive smile. Pure, raw sex rolled off her as she unleashed her Kiara wiles on poor, unsuspecting Stoma. Leaning forward she ran her fingertips along his forearm. His voice trailed off as he forgot the point of his story.

  Blade smothered a twinge of jealousy. With his senses open, he watched the tendrils of her energy undulating between them, ensnaring Stoma’s as she worked her subtle machinations on him.

  “I don’t know about you,” she purred, “but I came here to dance. All Blade seems to want to do is sit and favor his bad leg while he chats up his old girlfriend.” Her calculating stare raked him. “I’ll bet you don’t have a bad leg.”

  “Bad leg, huh?” Stoma said, brightening. “I guess that’s what happens when you start out as a stunt man.”

  Moving with feline grace, Bo rose. Her fingertips slid down his arm until her hand covered his. “Dance with me.”

  Stoma laughed and rolled out of his own chair, following her to the dance floor.

  Blade turned his attention to Shimsani. He lifted an eyebrow in silent question.

  She favored him with the long-suffering smile of the wife of a faithless spouse.

  Without comment, he rose and offered his hand.

  “How is your bad leg?” She rose gracefully and linked her arm through his.

  He sighed. “Getting better by the second.”

  He guided Shimsani across the dance floor.

  With bold, sweeping dance steps, Blade covered the distance quickly, his partner unaware of his growing tension.

  Shadows moved in the service corridors and filled the doorways leading to the kitchen.

  When he neared Bo, Blade nudged Shimsani away in a sweeping turn.

  Station security burst through the service doors and poured into the club.

  Time seemed to stand still as stunned silence fell over the well-heeled crowd.

  Shimsani and Stoma stumbled to a halt and looked quizzically at the security officers.

  “Is this what you had in mind when you said you wanted to be visible and memorable?” Bo asked softly.

  His gaze flicked over the crowd. “It wasn’t my first choice.”

  The security force moved quickly through the crowd, searching faces.

  The pair of officers circling the dance floor stopped and leveled weapons at him.

  “Blade Devon, you are under arrest!”

  Shimsani tried to pull her hand free from his grasp.

  He didn’t spare her a glance. He tightened his hold. His heartbeat accelerated as adrenaline flooded his system.

  “How are we doing this?” Bo sidled closer to him. “My way, or your way?”

  He scanned the club, looking for a clean escape and finding none. “Oh, your way, definitely.”

  “You sure?”

  He nodded.

  She sighed. “Get ready.”

  He tensed, waiting for Bo to make her move. He didn’t have long to wait.

  With lightning reflexes, she snatched her Capre from the shoulder holster hanging underneath his left arm. She fired a few quick bursts over the heads of the security officers, sending them diving for cover.

  The posh supper club exploded into pandemonium. The terrified patrons kicked over chairs and tables as they stampeded for the exits, screaming and pushing past the armed security squads in their desperate bid for safety.

  Blade drew his TJ-64 from its holster at the small of his back and swung Shimsani against his chest, holding her pinned in place.

  She cried out and struggled against him. Her protests were drowned out by the shouting mob.

  Like frightened glumrats, the elegantly-clad, beautiful people scattered, covering their heads and abandoning any sense of civility in favor of self-preservation.

  Grabbing a handful of the back of Stoma’s collar, Bo ignored his protests and swung him in front of her, firing around him.

  Shots went awry, ricocheting off the multifaceted bandstand. Ozone filled the air.

  “Go!” Blade maneuvered himself to cover her back. His mouth tightened into a grim line as he dragged Shimsani with him.

  She looked around. “They’ve covered all the exits!”

  “Make one!”

  Bo turned and fired repeatedly at the wall behind the ornate fountain. It glowed red, then exploded in a hiss of steam and burning fuseform, taking out a huge chunk of the decorative fresco behind it. Ears ringing, they raced for the hole, dragging the hapless celebrities with them.

  If they didn’t do something to slow down pursuit, security would overtake them before they reached the docking ring. Blade’s steps slowed as he neared the escape hole. His attention went upward, toward the dome.

  It was suicidal to even consider it.

  “What are you doing?” she shouted. “Come on!”

  Blade leveled his blaster at the ceiling and fired. The fortified transparisteel absorbed the blast without a groan.

  Bo growled and turned her weapon on the dome. Two bursts weakened it.

  “Let’s go!” She turned and pushed Stoma ahead of her through the still smoldering hole.

  Shaking his head, Blade glanced up at the stress fractures spiderwebbing across the transparisteel.

  Shoving Shimsani ahead of him, Blade followed Bo through the hole and into the maintenance corridor beyond the fountain’s mechanical bay.

  A loud crack and pop echoed through the club, followed by the hiss of pressurized air escaping into the vacuum of space. Alarms sounded and emergency lights strobed and flashed.

  “Run or die,” she told Stoma, pushing him hard. Needing no further urging, the completely unnerved man raced ahead of them.

  They didn’t slow until they’d passed through the second set of large, heavy blast doors cranking shut to close off the compromised dome before it could depressurize and take down the entire station. The maintenance corridor echoed with a hollow clang as the blast doors hissed and groaned into place

  Blade released his hold on Shimsani and looked her over. “Are you injured?”

  Her eyes wide and terrified, she shook her head, gasping for breath.

  Stoma cried out and fell against the bulkhead in a crumpled heap, whimpering.

  Bo flexed her left hand and glared at Stoma. Feeling Blade’s attention on her, she met his questioning look with a small shrug.

  “He tried some lame move to take my blaster.” She said by way o
f an explanation.

  Blade lifted an eyebrow. “Any permanent damage?”

  Her lips quirked in a cavalier smile. “He might need a nose job, but he’ll recover.”

  “I meant you.”

  Bo braced one hand on her hip and canted her head at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Shimsani collapsed gracefully to her knees beside her husband, checking him for injury. “My darling!” Wrapping her arms around him, she glared up at them. “Animals! The pair of you!”

  Stoma brushed aside his wife’s hands and lifted his head. Blood poured from his broken nose. “What did you do, Blade? They came to arrest you.”

  “Yes they did.” Blade nodded. He gave Bo a meaningful look. “I told you Gray was up to something.”

  Her lips twisted in annoyance. “There goes your ‘safer as your Joy Babe’ theory.” Bo pointed her blaster at their hostages. “What about these two? Do we shoot them?”

  He shook his head. “Tempting, but no.”

  “Who are you?”

  With a smile, Bo knelt in front of them, her arm braced across her knee. Her Capre dangled from her hand with deceptive carelessness.

  “We may have misled you a bit,” Bo said. “My name is Bo Barron. THE Barron. First Minister of Mondhuoun. Commanding General of the Black Wing.” She glanced up at Blade and smiled. “And sometime Scourge of the Seventh Sector. I’m wanted for treason, murder, terrorist activities, and the attempted assassination of Andre Marin.”

  “Try not to sound so pleased about it.” Blade frowned a warning at her. “She was breaking me out of Akita when that thing with the Overlord went down. She isn’t responsible for that.”

  Stoma gaped up at them. “What were you doing in Akita?”

  Bo nodded. “That’s what I asked him.”

  “You’re an actor, what are you even doing with someone like her?”

  Blade stepped up behind her. “She’s my wife.”

  “Not for long,” she said. “You promised me a divorce, remember?”

  “I’d give you one if you really wanted it.”

  Blade shoved the TJ-64 into his shoulder holster and pulled her to her feet. “We need to get going.” He nodded to Stoma and Shimsani. “You two aren’t hurt? Aside from…” He gestured toward the blood pouring down Stoma’s face.

  “That beast you call a wife tried to kill my husband and you just stand there?” Draped protectively over her husband, Shimsani met his level stare. “I’m not sure whether to hope they catch you or kill you!”

  Bo arched an eyebrow at him. “See baby? It’s not just me,” she said. “It’s all your ex-girlfriends who hate you.”

  “If Bo had wanted to kill him, he’d be dead.” He nodded to his friends.

  “Aww… You’re going to make me blush.”

  His gaze narrowed in warning. “And you don’t hate me.”

  She bit back an impish smile. He glanced at her extremely kissable mouth, trying not to get distracted by her lower lip, caught between her teeth. He sighed and forced his attention back to the pair on the floor.

  “If I were you, I’d head down to the habitat levels or find a way off this station. That dome is stressed, and it’s only a matter of time before there’s a major hull breach. You don’t want to be anywhere around here when it happens.”

  Stoma peered up at him through rapidly swelling eyes. “You weren’t padding your bio, were you? You really are an IC Agent?”

  “It’s a lot more complicated than that…”

  “Here we go again.” Bo rolled her eyes. “If I hear you say how complicated it is one more time I’ll shoot you myself.”

  “Again?” Blade grinned at her.

  Bo sighed and shook her head. “Stop flirting and let’s just get on with that running gun battle. No more excuses. You have a real blaster now.”

  Blade held out his hand to the other man. “You heard the wife,” he said. “Time to get back to work. It was good to see you, Stoma.”

  Stoma tentatively reached up and took hold of his hand. Blade hauled him to his feet.

  “I wish I could say the same.” Stoma gripped his hand and tried a pained smile. “When this is over, if you’re not dead, executed, or in prison, maybe we can get together over drinks and you can tell me about this other life of yours.”

  “I look forward to it.” With one last nod to the man’s wife, Blade released him and stepped back.

  “Come on, love.” He gestured for Bo to precede him. “Let’s find someone else to shoot at us.”

  Her lips twitched in amusement as she sauntered past him. “That won’t be too hard, but I’m really not dressed for it.”

  “I don’t think those two are quite sane,” Shimsani hissed. “They actually seem to be enjoying themselves!”

  Stoma shushed her. “Jetta Thomme said she saw him kill ten men with his bare hands and walk away like it was nothing.”

  “Jetta’s exaggerating.” Blade said over his shoulder. “There were only eight men and I’m pretty sure I had a blaster at some point.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  He hurried to catch up to Bo, admiring the sway of her hips as she sashayed down the corridor. The black dress clung to her shapely backside, undulating around her thighs with each stride.

  “I don’t care what you say about that dress,” he said as he caught up to her. “Half of a running gun battle is the running, and your legs have never looked better.”

  She tossed a saucy smile over her shoulder and wiggled her hips.

  “What? No sarcastic comeback?” He grinned. “I thought you’d be more upset over this. I’m not complaining, mind you, but why aren’t you?”

  Bo slowed her steps until he drew alongside her. Linking her arm through his, she fell into step beside him. “I don’t know,” she said with a smile. “I should be, I suppose. It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever been accused of.”

  “And then there’s the fact you didn’t do it.”

  “There is that.” She hugged his arm tightly. “But I’m happy. I don’t know why. I just am.”

  “Happy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cut off from Sundance with an entire station gunning for both of us, not to mention half the Commonwealth…”

  “Yep.”

  “And you’re happy?”

  She laughed. “I know, it sounds crazy…”

  She broke off with a squawk as he pulled her to him and swept her off her feet, bending her back over his arm.

  “I’m happy, too,” he said. “It’s not the way I would have liked dinner to go. I had something a bit more romantic in mind.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  “Hah!” Her eyes narrowed in mock indignation. “So you were trying to seduce me.”

  “I am always trying to seduce you,” he grinned. “Get used to it.”

  He pulled her upright and set her on her feet once more.

  Bo frowned her displeasure. “Sex isn’t love, you know.”

  His lips twitched. “I’ve told you before that if all I wanted from you was sex, I’d have seduced you and moved on.”

  “You did move on!”

  “No. You threw me out. There’s a difference.”

  Her lips pursed and she strode off down the corridor.

  Maker, now there was a woman! The hypnotic sway of her backside held him in thrall for a moment. Shaking his head, he chased after her. His long strides brought him to her side before she could get far.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said, opening the second round, “sex with you is amazing, but that’s not all there is between us, and you know it.” He dragged her to a halt. “And if you so much as mention the Black Wing or your title, I swear I will turn you over my knee and beat that beautiful ass of yours until you can’t sit down.”

  She tilted her head with a smile. A hint of color tinged her cheeks. “Think you can do it?”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You think I can’t?”

  Her smile faltered as her face flushed crimson. She swall
owed hard and looked away.

  “I think now is not the time to put it to the test.” She tugged on his arm, nudging him into motion once more. “I’d rather hear your plan for getting aboard my ship.”

  “I have a plan?”

  “Don’t you?”

  Warmed by her faith in him, some of the tension eased from his shoulders.

  “And you’re right,” she said. “There is more between us than just sex.”

  “Why, Barron – are you about to confess that you love me?”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” she said. “The truth is, I’ve missed this…you, me, mortal peril.” She trailed off as her expression grew sad and distant. “It’s lonely out in the deep dark. At the very least, I always thought of you as my best friend. That’s why it hurt so much to find out you’d used me. Friends don’t do that.”

  Her words hit him like a shockwave, stilling his steps. He closed his eyes against the wave of shame that washed over him. He hung his head, only now beginning to understand the full measure of pain he’d inflicted on her. While he may not have cheated on her, he had manipulated her and lied to her.

  She stopped beside him. She lightly touched his arm, drawing him out of self-recrimination. He lifted his gaze to hers as he turned to face her.

  “No,” he said softly. “Friends don’t use each other, Bo. I’m sorry.”

  He tenderly caressed her cheek. “Hurting you was the very thing I was trying to avoid.”

  He studied her slightly parted lips, kissably full, and still bearing the artfully-applied shade of a dusky Kah Lahtrec sunset. He leaned closer to her. His fingers twined through her hair. He pressed his advantage and tasted her lips. With a soft mew, her mouth opened underneath his.

  Hope swelled in his chest.

  The energy around them shimmered and exploded like a brilliant supernova as their Prenaha wove together, repairing the broken threads left raw and injured five years earlier. The Sentaro couldn’t lie any more than her heightened color.

  Her eyes opened and she pushed against him, jerking her head free from his grasp.

  “I’m not ready for this.” Her voice, ragged and hoarse, shook with…fear?

  She slipped away, the light around them fading just a little.

  His fingers flexed as he fought the urge to pull her back. He slowly lowered his hand to his side.