He transferred his gaze to Stephanie.
No smile on his face now. The illusion he was someone quite different evaporated. Mockery twisted those well cut lips.
Her toes curled at the impact of that razor-sharp stare.
She braced herself, sensing the predator in him was about to attack. He’s going to find I’m no pushover. She straightened and added, her voice louder and radiating defiance, ‘I’m her mother and you have no right under Darkon law to take her from me.’
‘That is where you are mistaken. Should the youngling’s kin have reason to suspect danger, guardianship is transferred.’
Stephanie goggled at him. ‘What? How?’
Again that cynical curl to his mouth. ‘Being not of this world, I doubt you have sufficient knowledge of our laws to argue the point and I have no time to waste in useless explanations.’
He cast a disparaging glance about the compartment. ‘This is not the ideal setting for any youngling, especially one that belongs to a family such as mine. All that protects this one from the dangers on the station is one hatch. Anyone of reasonable physical strength could easily break inside.’
Talk about stating the obvious. As if I don’t already know this, but in here is safer than out there.
‘We won’t be staying here forever. As soon as the travel embargoes are lifted, we are out of here.’
‘I think not.’ His voice was clipped. ‘You may go wherever you please. But the offspring of a Boeka will remain where it belongs.’
‘She’s not a thing, you know. She’s a real person,’ Stephanie all but spat at him, feeling her fury steaming out of her ears.
His impassive gaze swept her heated cheeks, making them flame even hotter.
‘Your memory bank is limited. I have already spoken that this creature is no longer your concern.’
Creature!
‘I’ve forgotten nothing!’ Memories crowded her mind, a kaleidoscope of bittersweet images of all that she had lost: her husband, her home, her friends. But now there was a glimmer of hope, the promise of a return to Earth.
A new life as a mother.
And this insufferable moron was not going to stand in her way.
Chapter 2
Stephanie buried her pain. Harnessed her anger.
Her chin rose.
His eyes narrowed.
Mia chose that moment to wriggle one tiny fist out of the cocoon of rainbow-coloured blanket and wave it in the air. Her little face crumpled and she bellowed.
The warrior holding her looked down at the now beet red face in consternation.
Stephanie held out her hands and said, ‘She’s wet. She needs to be changed.’
He thrust the bundle at her as if he was holding a stick of dynamite with a very short and live fuse.
Men were the same the universe over, no matter what race they were, she thought with a wistful sigh. Neo, as much as he had adored his daughter, had quite happily left these awkward chores in Janeen’s capable hands. Recently, when Jan had became so ill, Stephanie had taken over looking after her friends’ daughter. With gentle hands she laid the squalling infant onto the bunk. Efficiently she set about making the little girl comfortable.
He leaned closer, bending over Stephanie’s shoulder. His warm breath feathered across the bare skin at the nape of her neck, near where her translation collar encircled her throat. Startled she dropped the tube of powder she’d ground up from the roots of an uta plant and it showered a fine softly-scented white dust over the floor.
And over those immaculate, black knee-high boots of his.
Neither spoke as they both stared down at the damage. To her surprise the warrior made no comment. No exclamation of disgust.
Her stomach cramped with nervous tension and her fingers, usually so neat and quick, turned clumsy and slow. He watched her every move, she could feel his stare like the touch of a ghostly finger.
Learning, assessing, judging.
No doubt taking notes over her ineptitude as a suitable mother, she decided with savage misery. She tossed aside the soggy make-shift nappy and wrapped a fresh, thick square neatly over the baby’s bottom and re-dressed her in an all-in-one pale-pink romper suit.
Mia gurgled and kicked her legs. Her star like hands closed with a strong grip over Stephanie’s finger. It took an immense effort but she somehow swallowed the urge to burst into useless tears.
‘Finished?’ That hateful mocking voice so near almost shattered the fragile hold she had over her churning emotions.
She would not plea.
She would not bargain.
Her thoughts scattered like leaves in a willy-willy when he placed his fingers over hers. She looked down at the large hands now enclosing hers. His arms encircled her tense body.
The sickening sensation of being trapped caused a whimper of distress to emerge from her hoarse throat.
It brought back the memory of being strapped down inside a tube, unable to move, unable to free herself.
Faint though the sound had been she knew his sharp ears had captured that brief admission of weakness.
For one second his hands tightened over hers then he stepped backwards.
She could breathe again.
Stephanie lifted Mia and cuddled her to her breast. Drawing on her hard won courage, she turned and faced him.
His thick brows were drawn together into one line. The expression on his face was stern and remote.
She rushed into agitated speech. ‘I would have thought they would have locked you up. Aren’t you a Traditionalist? A follower of that lunatic, Marn?’
Oh, well done, Steph, prod the hungry tiger why don’t you? She did an imaginary head slap, aware that her control teetered on the brink of evaporating like fairy dust.
He ignored her.
He was good at this, she acknowledged with grim certainty. Neo had spoken in awe of his brother’s battle-strategy tactics and his “take no prisoners” attitude as commander of a Darkon battle-cruiser.
Her nerves were in shreds. The muscles in her thighs trembled with the effort to keep still and not bolt out the door seeking sanctuary. But where could she go? Where could she hide?
She hesitated while she debated her next move. Then with mock courtesy Ivo stepped aside and with a sweep of his hand indicated she was to proceed past him.
Holding her head as high as a queen’s she swept past him, baby held securely against her shoulder. She wasn’t sure but she thought he emitted an amused snort.
No sooner had she taken three paces, then his goons, their hands clasping their plitza butts, spread out in front of the hatch, an ominous reminder of what might happen should she take it into her head to make a run for it.
One of them stepped forward, a pouch nestling in the palm of his outstretched hand. Ivo strode past her and the other warrior handed it over.
The clinking sound alerted Steph.
Creds.
Shit. He’s going to try and buy me off.
Stephanie hugged Mia tighter and thought furiously while her opponent shook the pouch in front of him as if he was dangling a bone to a starving dog.
I do need more money. If there’s enough in that bag I may be able to bribe a smuggler to risk the curfew and make a run for Darkos now. But I can’t and won’t leave without Mia.
Maybe…
‘You cannot prevail against me.’ Ivo’s voice deepened and Steph found herself listening to its cadence. Against her will those quiet tones with its faint accent soothed her turbulent thoughts like the lapping of waves against the side of a boat.
‘No Darkon law, Traditionalist or otherwise, will risk danger to a new generation. Even a mixed breed such as this one.’ He nodded his head towards where Mia sucked her thumb and dribbled over Stephanie’s shoulder.
When she made no response he grated out, ‘The charge of desertion on your head carries a heavy penalty. You will not be considered a fit person for guardianship. Personally, I find your decision to desert your mate at the moment
of his greatest need, a reflection of your true character.’
His mouth twisted. The fire of retribution blazed in his eyes. ‘I will enjoy seeing you receive your just punishment.’
Her lips trembled as she absorbed the import of his words. They rang through her mind like a bell’s death knell in an abandoned churchyard. I can’t be locked in a cell again.
She stared at him over the baby’s head.
He enjoyed baiting her, terrifying her by drawing a stark picture of her future, she thought with rising anger. In his dark eyes there was nothing but the glacial gloat of victory.
He might think he held all the cards at the moment, but she wasn’t finished yet! But perhaps it might be best if he thought otherwise.
One long stride and he was at her side.
Again. It was as if he could not bear to be apart from his niece for too long now that he had found her.
But Steph knew that to be ridiculous.
No Traditionalist Darkon could ever entertain feelings or emotions for anything; certainly not a baby he’d termed a mixed-breed.
He passed a hand over Mia’s silky hair. It was a caressing motion and one Stephanie hardly credited such a rigid Traditionalist Darkon would ever make. The baby’s head popped up from her resting place on Stephanie’s shoulder. A queer pang pierced her heart at the look of wonder on Mia’s face as she stared at the imposing Darkon.
He stood way too close for Stephanie’s comfort. It took all her willpower not to move beyond his reach. Don’t show him how much his proximity bothers you. Keep cool.
‘In the interests of preserving my family’s reputation, I will give you one aon before advising the authorities of your whereabouts.’
‘And in return?’ Her mouth felt numb, making it hard to force words from her dry throat.
He shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘You hand over the youngling now, with no fuss.’
Stephanie jerked her chin in the direction of his soldiers. ‘You could just take what you want now.’
‘This is true; however I have no taste for brawling with puny females.’ Tossing the pouch in the air, he caught it, sending the creds jiggling like taunting music. ‘Five hundred creds. Yours. Simply step aside.’
He had rocks in his head if he thought she would ever agree to that! Longing to thump her fist into his implacable face, erase that remote sneer forever, she reined in her anger. Not yet, let’s see exactly how impervious he is to human emotion. She squeezed out a tear. Let it roll all the way down her cheek.
My one talent. The ability to cry at will.
From beneath lowered lashes, she watched him follow its progression.
His mouth compressed.
A muscle twitched one side of his lips.
Ahh hah!
She emitted a soft sigh. She gave it everything….pathos, anguish, defeat. She blinked in rapid succession giving the impression she was holding back an entire ocean of tears.
Behind her, his henchmen shuffled their feet, their cyno armour creaking. She swallowed, her voice when she spoke sounded husky and low. ‘Is there any way I can change your mind?’
‘Negative.’ His hands gripped her shoulders and turned her around.
Damnit.
She stifled the urge to gnaw on her lower lip as his sharp eyes examined her face. Stephanie tried for wide eyed and innocent.
‘You will stay out of her life. And on the proviso you keep your word, a reasonable sum of creds will be forwarded to you on an on-going basis. Any attempt to contact her will result in your immediate imprisonment.’
His scathing tone implied he doubted she would bother to seek the baby out once money had exchanged hands.
‘Do you really believe that money can buy anything?’
His lower lip curled into a snarl. ‘In my experience, of course.’ He leaned closer, his face mere inches from hers, his chilling, dark eyes boring into the depths of her soul. ‘I know exactly what type of female you are — one who for the right price will perjure everything. Her body, her life, her child, anything for the power of wealth.’
Stephanie anchored the baby within her left arm.
Her right hand lashed out.
The smack jolted his face sideways. The sound reverberated through the cramped space and for several seconds no one moved.
The red imprint of her slap stood out stark against the dark tone of his cheek. Her lack of control horrified her. Now she had handed him another weapon to use against her. Fool!
‘Dramatics do not impress me.’ He spoke through gritted teeth. His eyes glittered with barely suppressed emotion through half closed lids.
‘Bullying tactics do not impress me!’ Stephanie retaliated in another bold move.
Something flashed in his eyes and, flinching, she took a prudent step backwards.
He stared down his nose and said in an affronted voice, ‘I do not hit defenceless creatures.’
‘And I don’t hit men! But then you’re not a man, are you? You’re like some kind of robotic alien, imperious to any kind of emotion, determined to trample any helpless woman in your path.’ Her voice wobbled. She sucked in a breath.
‘Hardly helpless,’ he murmured and rubbed his cheek. ‘Like the kick of a draptile.’
Her face burned. Why did she suddenly feel the one in the wrong?
And why did he stare at her so, as if she was an interesting phenomenon? Or was he digging for her weaknesses?
As far as Stephanie was concerned she only had one weakness and she was holding her. Her weakness and her strength. She placed a loving kiss onto Mia’s satiny skin as the baby blew more bubbles.
Ivo’s rough voice interrupted her musing. ‘Hand her over without any further arguments. I have no desire to continue to converse with you.’
Still she persisted. ‘It’s late, almost her feeding time. Who will look after her? How do I know I can trust you to keep to your word? And with the curfew in place, how can you leave this sector?’
‘Not that you need to know, but I have a female well versed in caring for younglings.’ He held up a hand. ‘The curfew does not apply to my ship. As soon as we have completed off-loading our cargo, we will depart.’
Then I still have time!
‘I will take her now.’ He dropped the pouch of creds onto the floor where it landed with a loud thunk. Face shuttered, his hands slid around the baby and brushed against her breast. Then Mia was lifted from her grasp.
Flustered at the queasy sensation in the lower pit of her belly engendered by his touch she stood mute and shaking.
This is it. I can’t fight all of them. I have to risk it.
Feeling as if he had ripped her soul from her body, Stephanie turned to face him. He stood feet braced arrogantly apart, face chiselled from a slab of ice, baby Mia cradled in his arms.
For a second she thought she saw a brief flash of disappointment glitter in those cold eyes, but that had to be a product of her crazy imagination.
Her hands curled into fists, her fingers drew blood from her palms.
The expression she blasted him with would have done Medusa proud.
‘I want to say goodbye to her,’ she said. She held out her arms.
‘You have now sold your offspring to me. There is no need for you to pretend an attachment you obviously are incapable of feeling.’
She read nothing but cynical disgust on his face. The words boiling on her lips shrivelled and died.
Her head lifted with stubborn pride. Let him think what he liked! His opinion meant nothing to her.
She barely registered his henchmen as they filed past and followed their commander out the door.
The hatch clattered shut.
And Stephanie, alone in the silent compartment, lowered her empty arms.
Chapter 3
The balmy computer-generated breeze flowed through Ivo El Boeka’s private quarters on Level 1, giving the occupier the impression of a warm night he’d often experienced in the mountains of Cerciron.
A massive
holograph depicting the jagged and treacherous landscape of his home planet covered the smooth wall on one side. Gradually the scene changed to night with the shadows lengthening and a band of glittering stars appearing in the sky above. On the horizon a moon banded by rings hovered above the tallest mountain. Thin ribbons of pale light glowed like pointing fingers of accusation towards where he paced the length of the starkly furnished room.
With an impatient snap of his head against his shoulder, he attempted to ease the itch on the tip of his nose. A complete waste of time.
He did not dare release his grasp of the baby in his arms.
Despite having faced and conquered dire situations in the past, situations that would have made most warriors turn weak kneed and run, not one of those desperate times compared to this…this situation that revolved around one determined, stubborn, screaming infant.
The dark-haired Darkon female he’d hired, trotted to and fro at his side. Her serene face puckered into lines of anxiety and her lamentations added to the growing crescendo of noise that could have toppled the strongest building.
Ivo raised his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to his goddess of old for patience. Some silence would be good.
Any silence.
A brief respite from this all consuming noise which pierced through his skull and threatened to rattle loose all the teeth in his head. How could so much noise emanate from something so small? He rubbed the little back with a gentle hand which failed to soothe the distraught baby.
They had both tried everything.
But nothing gave Mia any consolation. Not the one hundred percent free-roaming berbers’ milk, not the freshly squeezed niska juice, not the fabled water from the Flaviani Springs, not the expensive plush soft toys, not the lively youngling tunes playing with nauseating repetitiveness from his compu intercom.
Nothing gave her solace.
‘She cries for her parent,’ Ursa El Florentt said, wringing her hands over another excruciatingly shrill wail. ‘Perhaps…’
The rest of her words died away as Ivo glared at her.
He compressed his lips and stalked back and forth.
Bargain With the Enemy Page 2