Secrets Vol 2

by DeSalvo-Hamre-Knight-Paul

  Her private communications unit beeped, and Elise looked down at the vid inset in her station just as Henry Voronnin's face popped into view. Her second in command must have finally gotten a chance to report in. Elise had sent him down to lead the damage control teams, and she knew he had his hands full.

  "How bad is it, Henry?" she asked.

  He rubbed a big hand over his head, leaving a streak of soot on the hairless pink dome. Dark shapes raced around in the smoke behind him, training hand foamers at the tongues of flame licking up from equipment panels. "Well," Henry said, "we haven't blown up yet."

  She winced. "I'd hoped the sensors were exaggerating."

  "They weren't. That last shot turned the drive room into an in-

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  ferno. We lost the entire engineering crew, not to mention the engines themselves."

  Ignoring a stab of agony at the thought of those deaths, Elise set her jaw. "Which means no weapons and no defense screens."

  He nodded, his broad, meaty face grim. "We're at that sonofabitch's mercy—and I haven't noticed that he's got any."

  "Any hull breeches?"

  "One, but the emergency systems sealed it. We've still got the battery backups, so we won't start sucking C02 for at least a couple of days."

  Assuming Roarke doesn 't blow us to plasma first. She didn't voice the thought.

  Henry paused, staring into her face. "You did everything you could, Captain. The Liberator's four times the size of the Raker, and it's got six times the firepower. Once Roarke caught us, it was over."

  There was no response she could—or would—make to that. "Get that fire out, Henry."

  "Aye, aye." He paused. "Good luck, Captain."

  The vid went black. Elise lifted her head and looked at the central screen and the armored shark that was the Liberator, cruising through space a hundred kilometers away. The Rebellion dreadnought bristled with sensor dishes, beamer projectors and D-screen generators—devices normally recessed into the hull to survive the stress of Superlight travel, now extended for battle. It was fully as lethal as it looked; the Liberator had already captured or destroyed every other Coalition ship assigned to this sector. Only the Raker had managed to elude its lethal pursuit, though she knew Roarke had been hunting them for the past year.

  Now all they could do was wait for him to finish them off.

  Unless she was willing to beg. Roarke would like that. He might even like it enough to spare the Raker.

  As Elise considered that dubious hope, her communications officer spun his chair toward her. His young face was too pale, and his

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  eyes were wide, though she could see how hard he was fighting his fear. "Captain, I'm getting a call from the Liberator."

  God, this would be humiliating, but she was going to save her crew if she had to grovel to do it. "Put him on."

  Michael Roarke filled the forward screen, the blue and gray uniform of the Rebellion Starforce stretching across his muscled torso. Even Elise had to admit he was a handsome bastard, with broad, angular cheekbones and an aggressive chin. The bridge of his nose was narrow, yet the nostrils flared, a combination that gave him a faintly wolfish appearance enhanced by the pelt-short cut of his hair. His eyes were black, intelligent and wary, deep-set under thick, dark brows. In contrast to those cool lupine features, his mouth was blatantly erotic, with lips that were every bit as hot, soft and skilled as they looked.

  Best not to think about that.

  "I've been evaluating our options, Captain Morrell," Roarke told her, his voice rich and faintly British.,

  Elise leaned back and crossed her legs, lifting an inquiring eyebrow. Her heart was pounding. "That's kind of you, Captain Roarke," she said, too sweetly. "And what are your conclusions?"

  He smiled like a courtly wolf. "You can surrender, or I can blow to hell."

  Oh, he was going to be a son of a bitch to deal with. But then, he always had been. "Providing you allow my people to..."

  "No," Roarke interrupted, his tone flat, almost brutal. "The only thing I'm going to accept is your unconditional surrender."

  She was willing to surrender, but not unconditionally. Not to acommander with his reputation. "You're not going to get it."

  "Captain, you are not in a position to refuse." His grin was nothing short of feral.

  Elise displayed her own teeth. "My engines may not be up to generating D-shields, .but they'd make a very pretty fire ball."

  Roarke's amusement vanished, wiped clean from his handsome face. Then he smiled and lifted a brow. "Nice try, Captain, but sui-

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  cide isn't your style. Particularly not when you'd be taking your crew along for the ride."

  "At least engine implosion is quick and clean, I'm not so sure about whatever you've got in mind."

  "Unlike the Coalition, the Rebellion doesn't abuse prisoners of war."

  "So your propaganda says."

  "I've sampled the Coalition's hospitality, Captain. Believe me, ours is preferable."

  "And you'd know, wouldn't you?" She shot him a grin of pure malice. "Such a shame you escaped."

  His fine upper lip curled into a snarl. "But you won't."

  "You don't have me yet."

  Roarke's grin was slow and malicious. "Don't I?" He stopped and stared into her face, as if reading her determination, gauging her strength of will. Caution flickered into his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was as coolly businesslike as a banker's. "I swear to you on my honor as an officer that your people will not be harmed— unless they attempt escape."

  "We wouldn't dream of it." Elise felt a knot of fear unwind in her belly. If Roarke promised her crew's safety, they were safe.

  At her implied surrender, there was a faint but visible loosening in the set of his shoulders. "And I believe you," Roarke said, his tone silken. "After all, I've seen how very loyal and obedient the Raker crew is."

  She inclined her head. "Thank you."

  "Which is why you're going to serve as my hostage."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  Roarke leaned an elbow on the arm of his command seat. His biceps strained his sleeve. "You heard me. With you as a hostage, I won't have to deal with any heroics from your crew."

  Elise stared at him, remembering the last time she'd been at his mercy.

  His fingers brushing paths of fire across her bare, aching breasts.

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  He gave her a silky smile. "Do you accept?"

  His skillful mouth sucking, biting gently, the thick ridge of his erection pressing into her belly.

  If she became his personal captive, he'd plunge her back into that eager animal submission she'd known on Tyus. And she was damned if she'd let him turn her into his toy again.

  But—there was the crew to think of. Henry, Amanda Yancey, Don Hart, Dr. Rodriguez, all the others who wouldn't be here if not for Elise Morrell and a Coalition admiral with a political agenda and an ugly grudge. She couldn't let them die, not even to save herself from Michael Roarke.

  "I accept your terms." The words tasted like acid in her mouth.

  "Very good. Prepare to be boarded. I’ll expect to see you waiting for me at the Raker's primary airlock." He didn't bother hiding the menace as he added, "Alone and unarmed."

  ******************

  She'd agreed.

  Roarke felt the muscles in his neck unlock for the first time since he'd gotten the anonymous communique revealing where the Star Raker would emerge from Superlight.

  It had been far too close.

  Standing, he nodded to his second in command. Knowing Roarke's plan as well as he did, Hendricks moved to take the command station as he headed for the bridge hatchway and the docking bay where his troopship waited. As he passed, Yolanda Boniface fell in beside him, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders.

  The instant the bridge hatch closed, the little engineer flashed him a wicked grin. Her dark Asia
n eyes glittered with unholy amusement. "Scared the shit out of you, didn't she?"

  Roarke turned his. head to stare at her. Anyone but Yo would have backed up a pace. "I beg your pardon?"

  "Save that look for someone who hasn't known you for seven-

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  teen years," she told him. "You handled the Raker like a glass eggshell trying to take Morrell alive, and then she threatened to blow it up herself. She really had you going."

  "Of course not," Roarke lied. "I knew she wouldn't suicide "

  "Uh huh. So tell me. Now that you've got her, what are you going to do with her?"

  A deeply sensual memory flashed through his mind—the way Elise's sex had felt, tight and slick around his probing fingers. He forced the thought away. He wasn't going to lose control this time. "I have no idea."

  Yolanda looked at him, one brow lifting. "Uh huh."

  ******************

  "You do realize somebody betrayed us," Henry told Elise as they stood waiting in front of the main hatch to the docking bay. Roarke's troopship would be arriving at any moment.

  "It is pretty obvious." Behind her back, Elise's fists clenched. "Roarke should have had no idea where we'd emerge from Superlight, but he was there waiting for us. Somebody told him where we'd be."

  "You think it was Price?"

  Lieutenant Gloria Price was the Raker's morale officer, but she was also a spy for Admiral Frank Scordillis, Elise's superior in the Coalition Stellar Service. And Scordillis was gunning for Elise. "I doubt it," she said finally. "I've been monitoring her communication traffic for some time. Can't read the communiques themselves, but I know the destinations, and nothing went to Roarke."

  Henry's lip curled. "If it wasn't Price, Scordillis did it himself.”

  "Probably."

  He swore.

  "My thoughts exactly." Elise grimaced. "You know, my father warned me months ago something like this might happen. I should have had the sense to resign before they sacrificed the Raker to get to me."

  "It's not your fault." Henry swiped a big hand over the smooth

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  dome of his head in a gesture of frustration. "Who'd have thought they'd throw us to the wolves just because your father's big in the Reform Party?"

  "He's not just big, Henry," Elise said drily. "He just may be the next president of the Coalition."

  "If the Reformists can get control away from the military. And that's a very big 'if.'"

  "Which gets even bigger if Roarke kills me." Catching his questioning look, she explained, "Dad advocates letting the Rebellion Worlds have independence. If a rebel kills me, the military could use it to discredit him."

  "I'm beginning to think the goddamned Rebels have a point."

  "Commander, lower your voice," Elise snapped, then added more lightly, "My father would tell you the best way to change the system is from the inside. Why do you think I'm still in the CSS?"

  "I don't know, Captain—why are you still in the CSS?" a female voice cut in.

  Elise and Henry turned to watch as Gloria Price sauntered up the hall to join them. Her blonde hair foamed in gleaming curls around the shoulders of her stark black uniform, and her tall boots shone. There was an expression of malicious amusement on her elegantly boned face. But then, there usually was; as Scordillis' pet, she thought she was untouchable. "I understand you'll be playing hostage to Captain Roarke," Price said. "That should be interesting. Particularly considering he's not very fond of the Coalition Stellar Service."

  “If he was, he wouldn't be a rebel, would he?" Elise growled. She'd put up with the blonde's games for the past few months because she knew Price was under Scordillis' protection, but that was before the admiral had betrayed them all. Now she was seriously considering throwing the little twit in the brig.

  "True, but there's more to it than that." Price sent her a sly smile, completely oblivious to the danger. "You do know Roarke once spent two months in the CSS prison camp on Elba? I understand one of

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  the intelligence agents there tortured him with a neurowhip until Roarke finally murdered him and escaped." Her full lips curved. "You know, they never did find that whip."

  "You've got far more to worry about than the captain, Price." Henry taunted. "Everybody on this ship knows you're working for CSSIntel. You'd better pray nobody lets that little fact slip to our captor—or you just may find out if he's got that neurowhip the hard way."

  Before he could add anything more, Elise cut him off. "That's enough, Commander. If I want the Lieutenant disciplined, I don't need Michael Roarke to do it for me." She glanced coolly at Price. "Dismissed."

  Even Scordillis' spy knew better than to buck her when she used that tone. "Aye, aye, Captain." She pivoted on her heel with a military snap and retreated.

  They watched her go. "Henry, I want you to do something for me," Elise said softly.

  "Shoot Price?"

  "Tempting, but no." Her brief grin disappeared. "Save my ship. If you see a chance to escape, do it. If you've got to leave me behind, do it. That's an order."

  He swiveled to face her, thick brows flying toward his nonexistent hairline. "You don't seriously expect me to abandon you?"

  Elise let her gaze chill. "Expect you? By God, I'm ordering you to. The Raker's your first and only consideration."

  "And what's Roarke going to do to you in the meantime? Remember Tyus? By the time you got away from him, he had you half-naked."

  "He won't rape me, Henry, if that's what you're worried about." She gave him a reassuring smile, but it felt thin and tight. "Roarke's not the type to bother; he already thinks he's irresistible."

  Henry just looked at her, his opinion of that statement clear in his eyes.

  A soft warning chime interrupted before she could make another

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  attempt to convince him—and herself. Turning, Elise looked over her shoulder at the airlock hatch. The vid screen set in the wall above it revealed an image of a blocky troop transport finishing its docking procedure. "I've got to go."

  "Captain—" He broke off and sighed, giving the sailor's traditional blessing. "Fair winds, Elise."

  "Thanks, Henry," She hit the key panel, waited barely long enough for the airlock to open, then ducked through. Before the hatch closed again, she looked back at him. "Get my people out alive, Commander. That's an order."

  The airlock rolled closed with a hollow, lonely thud.

  ******************

  Walking out onto the cargo deck, Elise listened to the echoing thrum of the Raker's engines and the bang and clank of the troopship settling in. She picked a spot to wait and fell into parade rest, resisting an impulse to dry her damp palms on the fine fabric of her dress trousers.

  She hadn't seen Roarke in a year.

  Oh, there'd been plenty of encounters since then, but all of them had been over the bridge vidscreen during some military game of cat and mouse. Yet even then, with kilometers of space between them, she'd always been too aware of him, the memory of their first meeting vivid in her mind.

  Looking back on it, Elise suspected that particular disaster had been another of Admiral Scordillis' attempts to set her up. A ship's captain had no business playing spy, yet Scordillis had sent her and Henry Voronnin to the planet Tyus with orders to pose as pirates with a captured cargo to sell. They were supposed to discover who was smuggling supplies to the rebels.

  She'd met Roarke in a bar there, of all places. He'd been trying to buy ship's stores for the Liberator, and someone had directed him to her. At the time, they hadn't met in battle and Elise was new to the sector, so he had no idea who she was.

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  It had gone well at first. She'd even been attracted to him; Roarke was witty and intelligent, not to mention handsome enough to tempt a neophyte spy to forget her common sense. In fact, when he invited her for a walk on the beach, she'd almost accepted. But in the end, Elise d
ecided not to take the risk, just as Roarke turned down her deliberantly exorbitant price for a cargo she didn't even have.

  Still, it had been that invitation that had given her the idea for a moonlight swim late that night. After calling Henry to tell him where she was headed, Elise put on a stringsuit and went down to the beach behind their hotel.

  Battling ocean swells for a brisk hour burned away the last of her adrenaline; by the time she emerged from the water, she was nicely tired. Elise dried herself off and wrapped her body in the thick, warm robe she'd brought along. Savoring the glow of heated muscles and pleasant exhaustion, she bent, meaning to pick up the sheathed knife she'd left wrapped in a towel. She was, after all, still in enemy territory.

  Elise pulled up short as the wet fabric of her stringsuit dug into her skin. The outfit was nothing more than a set of fine cords which looped around her neck, wove together at strategic points as they descended, and dipped between her thighs to come up behind and tie at the waist. And at the moment the suit seemed to be chafing each and every one of those strategic points. Reaching past the lapels of her robe, she adjusted it to lie where it was supposed to.

  "Lisa Morrow?"

  She turned, a smile forming at the sound of Roarke's voice—a smile that froze across her teeth as she came completely around.

  He was holding a beamer pointed between her breasts, the red glow of its charge burning deep in the weapon's dark barrel.

  "You told me you were Lisa Morrow," Roarke said, his deep voice sounding almost metallically chill. "But that's not really your name, is it?"

  "What else would it be?" The knife still lay wrapped in the towel

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  at her feet. If she could get to it... Casually, she started to bend over.

  "Captain Elise Morrell of the CSS frigate Star Raker. And leave the blade where it is, Captain. I'd hate to shoot you."

  "I'd hate to be shot," Elise said easily, though her stomach was twisting with the sick realization that everything had just gone straight to hell. "You think I’m CSS?" She shook her head in carefully feined astonishment. "Captain, I hate those bastards. No way would I work for them."