by Rachel Clark
“Give me back my gun,” she ordered as she straightened to her full height of five-foot-five. He grinned at her audacity. Locked in a cell, weaponless and injured, and still, the woman thought she could boss him around.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he laughed, loving the way her eyes narrowed with her anger. “Poor G’ntriel still has a headache. Lucky her husband is around to kiss it better.”
“Husband?” she asked, bewilderment clearly written on her face. “That big guy was her husband?” He watched with amusement as she tried to hide the shiver that pulsed through her body.
He laughed at her again. “He’s much friendlier than he looks. Are you hungry?” he asked, trying to get the conversation back onto a saner topic.
“Of course I'm hungry,” she growled. “I've been trying to get the shipment of medicines to Heltor in the Flengorian system so that children’s lives will be saved. Not that you’d give a rat’s ass about dying children, but I haven’t slept or eaten properly in three days, trying to get to them as fast as possible.”
* * * *
He pinned her with his stare as his face turned angry, twin spots of color slashing across his cheekbones. “I care more than you understand.” The words were spoken quietly, leaving Sarah to wonder if he hadn't really wanted her to hear them, and then he turned and left the room.
Okay, mental note: When a man offers food, get said food BEFORE pissing him off. Sarah rubbed her stomach as it rumbled loudly, reminding her yet again of how often she let her temper override her common sense. It felt like she’d been here forever, but in reality, it was probably only an hour or two. Still, food would’ve helped pass the time and shut up her stomach.
It growled again as a different man entered the room carrying a tray of food. It didn’t look very appealing, but the semi-edible smell made her stomach grumble even louder. He stopped several feet back from the force field that held her captive.
“Well, Sarah. I’m the closest thing we have to a doctor on this ship. Now we can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way.”
“Just give me the damn food.” The man chuckled a little too happily at her grouchy tone.
“Captain said you had a temper,” he gloated as he dropped the food tray onto the bench beside him. “Looks like we get to do this the hard way.” He turned on his heel and headed back to the doorway, stuck his head into the hall, and nodded to someone. As he came back into the room, Sarah noticed three big ugly pirates follow him in.
“Okay,” the first man said calmly. “I’m going to fix that broken nose first and then you can have something to eat.” He nodded to the men behind him. The smaller one of the three stood back to level his stun pistol at her as the other two moved into the cell when the force field switched off.
Sarah’s entire body tensed for what could follow, and her breath caught in her throat at the realization of just how vulnerable she was. Hulking pirate number one grabbed her right hand as he entered, forcing it behind her back in an effort to subdue her. Instinct and temper overruled common sense yet again and she lashed out with her foot, kicking hulking pirate number two in the balls. She had a brief moment of satisfaction before hulking pirate number one twisted her arm so forcefully that she felt the muscle pop in her shoulder, a sure sign that the joint was about to dislocate.
Sarah tried to slow her breathing, tried to play it smart, tried to stay conscious through the pain as she held up her left arm in supplication.
“Okay, okay. I’ll behave. I promise.”
The pirate with the damaged package still rolled, moaning in pain on the floor as the “nearest thing they had to a doctor” helped him to stand. He grinned at the man’s obvious pain. “Shake it off Kingsley, unless, of course, you’re not man enough to hold down one little female.”
The man in question rose to his full, very imposing height, but he still looked a little green under the deep red stains on both cheekbones. Sarah tried really hard to concentrate on deciding whether the deep red blush was from pain, embarrassment, or both—anything to distract her from her own arm and the pain emanating down her back into her hips.
She watched almost in fascinated slow motion as he grabbed her ankles roughly, lifted her off her feet, and pushed all of her weight onto her trapped and twisted arm. She wasn't really sure, but she may have screamed in pain as her arm broke and the shoulder dislocated. Heat exploded through her body just before she very gratefully passed out.
* * * *
“Put her down,” the order growled through gritted teeth.
Both men holding the now-unconscious woman glanced at him before they dropped her onto the small cot, clearly unconcerned if she sustained further injuries. Jordon’s anger raised another notch and his phase pistol appeared in his hand so quickly that the men had little reaction time before he dropped them both. Bloody pirates, he thought, glaring threateningly at the two remaining men before he stepped into the cell to check the woman’s condition.
Jordon dropped onto one knee and opened the upper half of Sarah’s jumpsuit to reveal a badly dislocated shoulder, swollen forearm, and some already vicious bruising. He carefully levered the jumpsuit off her shoulders and pushed it down to her waist. Glad that she was already unconscious, he gripped her slim arm in his large hand and pushed the joint back into place.
“Heal her now!” Jordan glared at the medic, then stepped back and folded his arms across his chest. He’d spent the last half hour debriefing G’ntriel on her successful mission, learning all he could about the woman before him.
Even hung-over from Sarah’s stun shot, G’ntriel had spoken of her with great respect and admiration. Considering that G’ntriel didn’t really like other women, the praise had been nothing less than shocking. What could this small slip of a woman have done to impress someone as un-impressible as G’ntriel?
He watched the medic as he used precious resources to heal an injury that never should have happened. Damn, that was the problem with being a pirate. Quite often, the men surrounding you had their own ideas about what they could take. Every time something like this occurred—and it occurred with sickening regularity—Jordan reacted like any other Pirate Captain, ruthlessly and efficiently.
The men at his feet groaned as he kicked them both solidly in the ribs.
“Get up,” he ordered, standing over them aggressively as both men dragged themselves to a standing position, swaying in front of him like two drunken sailors on shore leave.
“Try that again and I will shove you out the airlock. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes, cap’n,” they both mumbled, squinting as they tried to focus their eyes.
“Report to waste disposal until further notice!” They both looked ready to complain, probably something along the lines of warriors don’t do cleaning duties, but considering that neither had recovered sufficiently from his stun gun to string together more than a few words, they both seemed to think better of it. Wobbling on unsteady feet, they shuffled towards the door.
“One last thing,” Jordan said, making sure that they both had to turn to face him before he continued. “Take special notice of how the ship’s waste grinder works. Wouldn’t want you to have an accident now, would we?”
Jordan couldn't even remember the name of the guy on the right, but judging by the way the man’s eyes widened, the message and barely veiled threat was received loud and clear.
He turned his attention back to the medic as he heard Sarah groan. She remained unconscious, but it was obvious that she was also in a great deal of pain. He again dropped to one knee, grabbed her cold hand, and warmed it in his own before he could think better of it.
The medic glanced down at their joined hands but wisely said nothing. Jordan wasn’t even sure why he was offering comfort to a woman who would most likely try to lodge his balls somewhere in his throat when she woke up, but still he held her small hand and rubbed his thumb over the soft calluses on her palm and fingertips.
He turned her hand over and no
ticed the blunt finger nails and small scars from dozens of little nicks and scratches. It would seem that not only was she the captain and pilot of her little ship, but she was probably the engineer and maintenance crew as well. Jordan grinned as he realized that this woman was no stranger to hard work.
He ran his hand up her smooth skin to her elbow and now-healed shoulder and was lost in his appreciation of her toned physique when the ship’s intercom sounded loudly.
“Captain to the bridge,” his first mate’s voice boomed throughout the ship.
Reluctantly, Jordan placed Sarah’s hand back to the bed, careful to position it somewhere comfortable so that she wouldn’t hurt her newly healed shoulder again. He rose to his full, intimidating height as he eyed his medic. He’d known Jonas for a lot of years now, but he was starting to wonder if he actually knew the man at all. He wasn’t sure what had happened here before he’d entered the room, but he’d seen the result and he wasn’t pleased.
“When she is healed, bring her to my quarters,” he ordered, his voice rough with anger. Jonas glanced up, almost insolently, but said the words a captain expected to hear from all of his crew when he gave an order. “Yes, captain.”
Chapter Three
She woke slowly as her head tried to make sense of her surroundings. Well she wasn’t in her own bed and now, as clarity began to return, she realized that she wasn’t in a cell, either. She shifted a little, testing the muscles of her shoulder before she noticed that her face and nose no longer hurt.
Not willing to risk discovery that she was awake, she cracked her eyes open just a fraction as she tried to see around the room while still looking asleep. She needn’t have bothered. She was alone in a large room that was furnished sparsely but comfortably.
Levering herself off the bed, Sarah only then realized that she’d been stripped of her jumpsuit and stood in only her underwear, a pair of grey panties, and matching stretchy singlet top with a built in bra. Glancing down at her unclothed state, she lowered her hand to her groin and gently probed the area for unfamiliar pain. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt none. She wasn’t exactly sure what had happened while she’d been out cold, but she preferred to believe that rape hadn’t been part of it.
Although, glancing around the cabin, she realized that in the future she may not be so lucky. She rifled through what appeared to be personal belongings and found an old fashioned electronic photo frame. She turned it on and watched the pictures scroll through as gentle music filled the room. The pictures seemed to be of a young happy couple as they progressed through life’s milestones, a wedding, a new baby, another new baby, and then photos of the boys as they grew. One of the young men in the photos looked a lot like the captain of this vessel, and she wondered if the happy couple was, perhaps, his parents.
“My parents and my younger brother,” a voice confirmed from the open doorway.
She turned around, startled that she hadn’t heard the door open. She’d been so engrossed by the picture display, so enthralled with the life story that seemed to flow from it that she hadn’t given her own safety a thought. Way to go Sarah, she thought derisively. Why not throw yourself at the man while you’re at it?
Instinctively, she grabbed the closest thing to her and threw it at his head. Instead of ducking, the stupid man reached out, caught the photo display awkwardly, and jammed a finger in the process.
“Ow,” he complained loudly. “For fuck’s sake, could you just control that rabid temper for five minutes?”
He stalked towards her with the frame held carefully in his hand. She backed away from the desk, unintentionally moving closer to his sleeping area. She sat heavily as the forgotten object hit the back of her knees and dropped her onto his bed.
He watched her impassively, his eyes flicking briefly to the pouty lips of her sex and then back to her face. He placed the frame gently back onto its place on the desk and continued to move towards her, anger riding him.
“Just relax,” he said impatiently. “No one is going to hurt you.”
She crawled further onto the bed and pressed herself against the wall, angling her body towards him, ready to attack if she had to.
“Yeah, well, after having my shoulder ripped out by your thugs, I’m not really inclined to believe that.”
He sat heavily on the bed and his hand reached out to briefly touch the side of her face. “I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t supposed to happen. My men were supposed to be healing your injuries, not making them worse.”
“Sure they were.” She forced herself to pull away from his warm touch. “Looks like your men don’t like taking orders very much.” She gave him her best glare, but her temper dissipated a little as he made no move towards her.
“I am the captain. They will do what I say or they’ll find themselves out the airlock.”
He said it with such quiet menace, such anger glittering in his eyes, that she had little choice but to believe him. She cringed closer to the wall, hating herself for her weakness. Where was her kickass attitude now when she needed it the most?
“Sarah,” he said quietly, waiting for her to look at him. “I will protect you with my life.”
“Oh, yeah? For how long? Until you get tired of me and then pass me around the crew? Isn’t that what pirates do?”
His head snapped back as if she’d punched him, and a hurt look flashed across his face before it quickly morphed into cold anger.
“I suppose that’s all you would see,” he said quietly as he turned his back to her.
Okay Sarah, here's your chance, she thought. Take it. Hit him hard and get moving. But something held her still. Something about the way he sat tore at her soul and stalled her need to escape. She licked her lips nervously and lifted away from the wall, her body noticing and reacting to his masculine physique even if her mind refused to acknowledge it.
“Tell me what I should see, then,” she said softly. He turned towards her, his eyes so flat and emotionless that she almost cringed away from him again. The way he watched her felt very unnerving.
“It doesn’t matter what you see. There are clothes in that trunk” He lifted himself away from Sarah and pointed at a footlocker at the base of the bed. “Get dressed,” he ordered as he left the room without a backwards glance.
Sarah sat on the bed, uncertain what had just happened, but she tried to sort through it in her head. She wasn’t meant to be his play thing? Okay so that was good, wasn’t it? Or did he find her disagreeable enough to want nothing to do with her except pass her around the crew before shoving her out the airlock? But he wouldn’t really do that, would he? Regardless of these pirates’ reputations, she felt certain that he was an honorable man. She shivered at the confusing thoughts. Hell, she wished she knew something about anything at this stage. This pirate was very confusing.
* * * *
The door slid closed behind him as he left the room. He then turned to the control panel and quickly punched in a series of numbers, locking the door to all but him. As angry as he was, he wouldn’t risk her safety, and he would protect her with his life, whether the wild woman appreciated it or not.
God, what had he been thinking? Just because G’ntriel believed she was a good person, it didn’t mean that Sarah would somehow recognize something in him and be able to heal his tortured soul. He really was losing it if he thought that scrap of female fury could somehow offer him redemption.
He growled low in his throat, very aware that thoughts like that could get a captain killed on a pirate ship. Any show of weakness could precipitate a mutiny, and he sure as hell wasn’t prepared to defend both himself and the woman in his quarters from the entire crew. He’d try, but he’d die trying and she would be left to suffer at their hands, a fate worse than death if their past actions were anything to go by.
Straightening to his full height, he stalked through the corridors, projecting the ruthless personality he’d worked hard to cultivate.
“Andrews, sit-rep,” he commanded loud
ly as he entered the bridge.
His first mate quickly stood, his body language conveying his willingness to serve his captain.
“We’ve just reached the Flengorian System. ETA to Heltor approximately three hours.”
“Good.” Jordan barked. “Have we got a rendezvous point yet?”
“We haven’t been able to contact him yet, but it could be the distance. I don’t think their sub-space communication equipment is all that reliable. I’ll keep trying,” he added when he saw the look on his captain’s face.
“I'll be in my dining room. Call me when you get confirmation of our rendezvous point.”
“Yes, captain.”
Jordan entered the captain’s private dining room, glad for the first time that he had the choice to eat his meal away from the prying eyes of his crew. He often enjoyed their company, but today he couldn’t quite shake his melancholy. The fiery redhead was uppermost in his mind, and it wouldn’t do anyone any good if he was caught mooning over her.
Hell, when had he turned into such a sap? He’d made hundreds, maybe thousands, of difficult decisions since taking over as captain. What was it about the ball of fury currently occupying his bed that had him so on edge? He should’ve just shoved her back into that tin can she called a spaceship and sent her away. If the damn thing was no longer space-worthy, well that wasn’t really his fault. She’d made the choice to cut power the way she had, not him. Well, except that she wouldn’t have pulled such a dangerous stunt if his pirate ship hadn’t been stalking her, and of course, she’d honestly thought that she was delivering medicine to ill children.
Irritated with this line of thought that seemed to take him around and around in circles, Jordan stalked over to the food cabinet, quickly selected a condensed meal, and placed it in the rehydration unit. Within seconds, the delicious smell of braised beef and vegetables filled the room. Too bad it was synthetic beef. He could’ve used some real meat to sink his teeth into today.