He left the fire extinguisher hanging on a door handle and took the shortest route back to the crew’s mess. He’d told Talia to watch for him after she finished eating, and she was probably wondering where he was.
When he walked into the mess, he saw with relief that all of the women were still seated around the tables.
“Ballard’s back,” Gentry said loudly. “Where’ve you been, Serge?”
Ballard gave the man a hard look. “I don’t report to you, Gentry.”
The men were clearly getting restless, and a few had crowded around some of the women. The women didn’t appear to appreciate the attention. Ballard moved near Talia’s table but didn’t look her way. “Any of you need the head?” he asked the group.
Talia’s hand shot up first. A couple of other women raised their hands as well.
“Lee and Benjamin, take those two,” Ballard said. He trusted the two young Privates to not try anything with the women.
He gave Talia a curt nod, and she rose to her feet. He let Lee and Benjamin go ahead with the two women, and once he and Talia were outside the mess, he ran through the sub’s layout in his mind.
“Where are we going?” she whispered.
He glanced back to see her watching the privates go the opposite direction.
“Different head,” he said curtly, in case anyone was observing them.
To avoid suspicion he couldn’t take her too far away. When he reached one of the unlit side corridors, he rounded the corner and heard Talia follow. Trying to ignore the way his pulse had quickened, he stopped and turned to her, then reached for her hands and cut one strand of her bonds loose with the small Army-issued switchblade he carried on his belt. He unraveled the cord from her wrists.
She looked up at him expectantly, the tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid now framing her face in soft waves. He swallowed, suddenly unsure where to start.
She touched his wrist, the hand that was holding the length of cord that he’d just cut away, and then drew her hand back as if he hadn’t meant to do it.
She cleared her throat. “I’d very much like to know about the plague. I’m certain I can help. From what I know, I’m guessing that your, um, homeland has been isolated for a very long time. That means the population probably hasn’t built up immunity. It could be something that modern medicine—where I’m from, anyway—can easily inoculate against, or . . . or, we might be able to treat the symptoms and prevent deaths. Or—”
He held up a hand to cut her off. “Talia, I . . .” he started. He looked into her upturned face, so intent and sincere, and whatever he’d meant to say seemed to get whisked right out of his mind.
Then he laughed softly, a sound that surprised him as much as it apparently surprised her. Either he was losing his edge or he was punchy from the shock of his recent discoveries and lack of sleep. Or maybe it had something to do with the woman standing just a foot away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, and I certainly wasn’t laughing at you. You have no idea how much I wish I could make use of your expertise. But the problem is, the plague isn’t the most urgent thing I have to deal with right now.”
A ghost of a smile had passed over her lips when he’d laughed, but now her face grew serious again. “Tell me. The whole truth this time.”
Part of him wanted to hold back some of the details—knew he probably should hold back—but the relief of having someone to confide in was so sudden his inner sense of balance seemed to tilt for a second.
“We don’t have time for the long version, so I’ll have to give you just the highlights,” he said. He leaned around the corner to look and listen, then faced her again and drew a deep breath. He talked for what felt like an hour, though it was only a couple of minutes. It was certainly the longest continuous time he’d heard the sound of his own voice in over a year. He told her about his mission, about his insertion into this Ice Cap Army rogue group, his recent discovery of Trench Colony’s Vice Minister here, and what he’d said in the wardroom.
When Ballard finished, she was silent for a moment. He knew they couldn’t stay here, but he wanted to give her a chance to take it all in.
She moved back half a step to lean against the wall, planted her hands on her hips, and blew a slow breath out through pursed lips. “Well, that’s quite a story. I still think—” Her words died as the sounds of nearby movement pulled her attention down the corridor. She straightened, her body tensed.
Footfalls and voices. Vice Minister Casta’s and others’, headed right for them. Ballard reached around Talia to open the door that was right next to her, but it was locked. He grabbed her hand, ready to pull her away from the approaching men, but then heard voices in the other direction.
Talia backed against the wall again, pulling him with her. “Come here,” she whispered urgently.
She clasped his other hand and pulled his arms around her waist, forcing him to step so close his knee bumped against her lower thigh. She yanked him closer still, wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, and pulled his face down to hers.
Before he could fully process what she was doing, her lips were on his. A shock of surprise followed swiftly by a hot bolt of desire shot through him as she stepped into his arms, arching her body to fit against his.
He knew she was drawing him into an amorous moment as a cover, but he couldn’t help his body’s reaction. His knees oddly rubbery all of a sudden, he braced one hand against the wall next to Talia’s head, and his other arm curved around her waist and pulled her more firmly against him. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and the bare skin of her stomach felt hot against his lower abdomen. It only made him want to move his arm lower and lift her off the floor to pull her hips against his.
She pulled back from the kiss and gave a high-pitched giggle. “Oh no, we’ve been caught,” she stage-whispered, feigning embarrassment.
“No, please don’t stop on account of me,” Vice Minister Casta said. “We’re just passing through. Carry on, carry on.” He let out a lecherous laugh as he walked past them.
Ballard kept his head down, hoping no one in the VM’s party had recognized him. If his Captain had been among them, he surely would have reprimanded Ballard on the spot.
He almost let himself feel relieved when another voice said, “So he’s flesh and blood after all.”
Ballard looked over his shoulder, even though he already knew who it was. Maynard. One of the younger privates was with Maynard, but the private had the sense to avert his eyes and keep walking.
“So you do like that one in particular, eh?” Maynard’s cool chuckle as he strolled past them sent an unpleasant shiver over Ballard’s scalp. It looked like Maynard might leave it at that, but then he stopped and turned slowly. “If I were you, I’d let her run. I bet she’d put on a good chase before you caught her.”
Ballard felt Talia stiffen and shudder slightly. He didn’t blame her. Maynard’s words were only mildly threatening, but the look on his face and the way he spoke promised savagery. This wasn’t the first time Ballard had considered that the guy had a screw loose. Ballard had seen men like Maynard before. The military tended to attract people who had an affinity for violence that went far beyond fighting an enemy.
At least Maynard’s comments had calmed the fire racing through Ballard as he’d held Talia pressed against him. Still, when he let go of her and stepped away, he did so with extreme reluctance.
She ran her hands over her hair, brushing back the flyaway tendrils. Her lips parted and then she looked at the floor and cleared her throat, and Ballard realized her cheeks were flushed. He couldn’t help wondering if—and hoping, if he was being honest—her reaction was at least in part due to him.
She swallowed and looked up at him. “Sorry that was . . . I hope it wasn’t too . . .”
She was apologizing? For that? It was all he could do to keep his eyes from roaming her body and replaying the way the curve of her lower back felt under his hand. “I’m certainly not offended. Quite the
opposite. And I appreciate your quick thinking.” He tried to keep his tone even, but there was the slightest tremor in his voice, maybe even too subtle for her to notice.
The ripple of a quick, silent laugh shook her shoulders. “No problem.”
She couldn’t possibly know how much he wished for more demonstrations of her, ah, quick mind. But he needed to take her back.
“What’s next?” she asked in a low voice, walking next to him in the narrow corridor as he took her back to the mess. Her arm kept brushing his, and he tried to keep his focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
He stopped abruptly and lifted the cord, which he’d wound around one of his hands. “Almost forgot, I need to put this back on.” She held out her slender wrists, and he began wrapping the cord around them, trying not to notice the way her breasts lifted and her cleavage deepened with her arms stretched out this way . . . and totally failing. He cleared his throat. “I can’t do much until we get to the base, except try to gather more information. Please don’t risk yourself, but if you get an opportunity to learn anything that might help . . .”
“Yes, sir.” She flashed him a half-smile and then took a deep breath as her expression settled into one of determination.
When they reached the short hallway leading to the mess, it was quiet. Ballard went ahead and glanced around the room, then came back to her. “Looks like they’ve moved the women to the barracks.”
They backtracked, and he took her to where he knew the women were bunked. The sub was quiet, likely most of the men had retired to their own racks.
When they reached the barracks, Privates Lee and Benjamin were standing guard outside. Ballard nodded, and Lee opened the door to let Talia in.
She flipped a quick glance and wink over her shoulder at Ballard just before the door shut behind her. Was it wrong of him to wish he could keep her to himself for a while? Even if it was just to talk. It had been so long since he’d had the luxury of a true conversation. Let alone one with an intelligent, beautiful woman.
Before this mission, Ballard had fought in the battles against the Rebels for nearly two years. There’d been no opportunity for a real relationship with a woman in a very long time. He’d had encounters here and there—Maynard was right about Ballard being flesh and blood after all—but his circumstances demanded that he avoid attachments.
Before Ballard’s sister had died, she’d written him a letter. Ballard had been away fighting when she passed away, but his mother had given him the letter during his brief leave to attend his sister’s memorial service. In the letter, she had encouraged him to “let someone in.” She didn’t think he should be alone forever, though Ballard often thought that a solitary life actually suited him quite well. That was probably one of the reasons he’d been chosen for his current mission.
That was part of it, but there were many ways to carve the truth. And another slice—just as valid as the slice that said his solitary life was due to his solitary nature—was that he’d never met a woman he truly wanted to stay with.
He made his way slowly to the barracks where the rest of the Alpha Ascent Ship’s crew had been assigned, reluctant to increase the distance between himself and where the Alpha women from Above were resting. He wanted to keep all of the women from harm, of course, but there was only one he couldn’t seem to stay away from. And now, she knew nearly everything he knew about his mission here. She also knew that the people Below were descendants of time travelers, though he got the impression she was still deciding whether she believed that. It was frightening and exhilarating to have brought someone else into so many secrets.
Talia still didn’t know everything, though. Ancestors from the future and a home deep in the sea weren’t the only differences between the two of them. After his ancestors had left Earth and unexpectedly ended up deep in the ocean several hundred years in the past, they’d genetically modified themselves and their offspring so they’d be well suited to their deep sea home. The modifications ranged from metabolic to anatomical, and the hundreds of years of the colonies’ survival Below was a testament to the brilliant minds who’d had the clarity to make sure future generations would be so well adapted to their environment.
But now things seemed to be crumbling. First there was the Rebel War. And then the plague, and then these men who thought it was perfectly acceptable to violate the First Tenet with their reckless ventures Above and horrible schemes to kidnap and use women.
Ballard found Alpha’s barracks and located his rack. It was the empty one of the two closest to the door, his right as one of the two highest ranking men among Alpha’s crew. The rest of the men seemed to be asleep, except for Lee and Benjamin, who were back guarding the women’s barracks. He rolled onto his hard bed, but lay there with his eyes wide open.
It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the fatigue of nearly two full cycles with no sleep.
It was Talia.
The weight of her forearms on top of his shoulders . . . the light touch of her fingers at the back of his neck . . . the arch of her back under his hand as she closed the space between them, and the tightening of his own arm as he pulled her against his chest.
And her lips. He replayed the kiss slowly, the tentative initial pressure of her mouth, the softness of her lips. And just before they’d parted, her lower lip had moved down just slightly, as if she’d been on the verge of inviting the kiss to deepen.
He ran a hand down his face and blew out a long breath. He had to stop this. His arousal was strong enough to punch a hole through the rack above his.
If he couldn’t find something else to think about, he’d never get to sleep. But replaying the kiss and the feel of her body was just . . . so much better than sleep.
It was as if his mind were trying to sabotage him. For so many months he’d thought of nothing but his mission, and now in a matter of hours, his thoughts were spinning in a completely different direction.
He forced himself to think back to the conversation he’d overheard, to Vice Minister Casta’s condescending tone and the shock he’d felt as he’d stood at the wardroom door listening.
It worked for a minute or so, but . . .
Ballard pulled his pillow over his face and groaned quietly.
After a lot of restless tossing, he finally got up. He might as well relieve Lee or Benjamin at their post outside the Alpha women’s barracks. Having only a door between himself and Talia wasn’t going to help Ballard focus on his work, but at least one of the privates would be able to get some sleep.
He let himself out of the Alpha crew’s barracks and slipped through the quiet corridors.
When there was a soft rustle behind him, Ballard’s first thought was that at least he didn’t have to come up with a lie to explain why he was up and prowling the sub—he had a legitimate intention of relieving one of the guards.
Buy when he turned and saw Maynard pointing a harpoon rifle at him, Ballard swore silently at himself. He should have been more vigilant.
Ballard pulled himself up to full height. “In case you’ve developed an eyesight problem, I’ll inform you that you’re pointing a rifle at a Sergeant in your own army, Private First Class Maynard.” His voice was pure ice.
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Maynard said in his usual tone that was somehow casual yet completely empty of connection.
Ballard planted his feet, but eyed Maynard’s trigger finger in the dim light, trying to guess what he was up to. This man was odd and dangerous but not stupid, and aside from Maynard grating against authority, Ballard wasn’t sure why Maynard would follow him and threaten him this way.
“What do you want, Maynard?”
“Walk, Serge,” Maynard said and gestured at Ballard with the rifle. “Take the next right, and then a left. Stop at the first door.”
Ballard held up his hands, turned, and followed instructions. When he reached the door, he stopped. Maynard came around and stretched his hand out for the latch. When it opened, Ballard’s mouth went dry.
It was a door to Engine Room One. It shouldn’t have been unlocked. The Engine Room was the perfect place to tie someone up. Or leave a body.
Maynard stood as far back as he could while still holding the door wide open, so he could keep the rifle trained on Ballard. “Get in.”
“Why are you doing this?” Ballard asked as he stepped through the dark doorway.
Ballard’s mind raced. A quick glance already told him that Maynard didn’t have any tie cords on him. Better to assume that Maynard had murder on his mind than any plan to let Ballard leave alive.
“Someone wants to give your girl a little payback,” Maynard said. “And I’m giving him a head start.”
Talia. Maynard must be covering for Gentry, who could already be at the Alpha women’s barracks. Ballard’s chest clenched.
Inside the dark room, Ballard darted to the right of the doorway, counting on Maynard needing a split second to get inside and swing the long harpoon rifle around. Ballard dropped to the ground and rolled just as he heard—and felt—a barbed harpoon zip through the air over his head.
Unlike the harpoon rifles meant for hunting, the ones modified for military use had no cords for towing back a harpooned catch. And they could shoot dozens of slender, barbed needles at high speed. It often wasn’t the initial shot that maimed or killed; it was the extraction.
The door swung closed behind Maynard, pitching them into darkness. Maynard switched on the rifle’s LED light just as Ballard dove forward, aiming to tackle Maynard around his legs. Ballard nearly missed—Maynard had backed up—but managed to hook his hand around one of Maynard’s ankles.
Just as Ballard yanked and sent Maynard flailing, sudden pain flashed across Ballard’s right calf. He scrambled forward, trying to pin Maynard, and heard the rifle clatter against the wall—this close it was a useless weapon, anyway—and the rifle’s light went out. There was a grunt from Maynard just as a fist connected with Ballard’s temple.
With his head ringing and his calf burning, Ballard pulled his legs under him and jammed his knee into Maynard’s diaphragm. The choking sound that followed told Ballard that he’d knocked the wind out of the man. The private’s swings lost strength, and Ballard smashed one hand over the man’s face to hold his head steady and swung down in a fast arc with the other fist. Ballard hit the side of Maynard’s head with such force Ballard was actually impressed the man stayed conscious.
Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels Page 115