Charming the Snake

by MaryJanice Davidson, Camille Anthony, Melissa Schroeder

  To MT, for her outstanding editing and gentle reassurances that I can actually write;

  and

  To Treva because, well, you understand most of my jokes, and if you don’t, you play along and pretend I’m normal.

  Thank you for taking the chance on a newbie writer who submitted her first futuristic, assigning me to Linda Kusiolek, and giving me the opportunity to grow.

  I will always be in your debt.

  Ladies, you’re a class act.

  Chapter One

  It figured she’d find him here. Liberty Wainwright studied some of the worst scum of the universe through the haze of reefer smoke. Just her luck that Brady St. James would spend his time working out of a bar where saying the wrong thing could get your throat slit. She glanced around the room looking for him. At six-foot-four, he was usually easy to find. And knowing him as well as she did, she knew there would be a crowd of admirers surrounding him. Brady loved an audience.

  A burst of laughter from the back of the room caught her attention. Instinct told her she’d found him. Carefully, she walked through the room, avoiding eye contact but keeping a close eye on hands, tentacles, and other appendages. Throughout the area people drank, played kinos, and danced. The all-horn band’s techno beat had several people out on the floor, but most of them were too wasted to dance. They were here to forget, because most of them lived lives to be forgotten. So they would drink, they would smoke, and they would forget the other life forms they’d killed. Or would kill. Even tonight, she thought as she kept an eye on a group of Awsarians. Short, round, and purple, the race was known for their love of killing for pleasure. Or for a price.

  She ignored the chill running down her spine and willed herself not to sweat. Libby knew just how to handle herself in situations such as these. She came well-equipped with a laser on her hip, handgun in her boot, and more than a few knives. Sterling Wainwright hadn’t raised a fool.

  As she neared the group, she noticed females outnumbered the males. Inwardly she snorted. It figured that some of them would probably see her as a rival. She reached the outer edge of his admirers. From the looks of some of them, they had to be mercenaries. Tall, dressed in dark colors, they were heavily armed and had a lean, hungry, cold look in their eyes.

  Brady’s deep baritone flitted over the crowd, and she sighed. He was telling the story of the mines on Alcazere. She shook her head. The man needed new material. And he always got the story wrong. Libby was the one who came up with the idea of rappelling into the mines at night. Brady fought the idea, since he has a little problem with dark places. Her father, for once, had listened to her.

  She eyed the crowd again, walking around the outer rim. Shoving her way to the front wouldn’t work. Besides, even if she could, she didn’t want to chance touching some of them. Who knew what weapons they hid, or what toxins some of them could spurt? There was only one way to get Brady’s attention, and that was to steal the audience.

  “I think you have that wrong, Brady. You didn’t want to do the jump, remember?”

  All conversation stopped around the table, and a chorus of curious eyes swung her way. The group parted in front of her, and she felt a wave of satisfaction, however snarky, that she had stolen a bit of his thunder. She ignored the fact that her pulse had jumped and her mouth had suddenly gone dry. Long ago, it would have heralded another stuttering fit, but she’d gotten over her infatuation with the idiot.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t little Liberty Wainwright.” She couldn’t see him as she waited for a tall, yellow-skinned Semian male to step out of her way. The irritated look the alien shot her with his blue-green eyes told her Brady had won another admirer.

  When she finally made it to the table, she cursed herself for the shiver running down her spine. He looked the same. His ebony hair, a tad too long and needing a trim, did have a bit of gray threaded through it. A few more laugh lines had appeared around his cobalt eyes. His nose had been broken, again. It just made him even more attractive. He was surrounded by females, of course. Brady always liked women of every shape, size, and species. Including, she was sure, the human bimbo sitting on his lap.

  “I see you’re still holding court in bars, Brady. And that’s Dr. Wainwright to you, dickhead.”

  His lips turned up in a mocking smile. She curled her fingers into the palm of her hand. Smacking him would probably land her in hot water. It always had before. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her wrinkled shirt and pants, her dusty boots. Slowly, he brought his attention back to her face.

  “I thought the last time you saw me, you said you wanted nothing to do with me.”

  Yeah, she had said that, as she was heading out the door. She meant it at the time. “This has nothing to do with you... or me. It has to do with Sterling.”

  His eyes narrowed and he frowned. “I haven’t seen him in months.”

  “You or anyone else.”

  “Did you two have another fight?”

  “Sterling and I... we had a disagreement about a year ago.”

  His eyebrow rose and that damn smile returned. “What was it over this time? You thought he was taking too many risks, and he thought you had your panties in a wad about life?”

  She swallowed the retort she really wanted to make. Something that would be anatomically impossible for him to do. It galled her that she needed his help, but she did. And to rescue her father, she would do anything. “No. It had to do with my divorce.”

  His smile faded and he actually pushed aside the blonde. The woman shot him an angry look and slid out of the booth.

  “You’re married?” This time irritation threaded his voice.

  “Was. Sterling wanted me to work it out; I didn’t. Hence, we stopped talking.”

  He pursed his lips. She knew he was seriously considering it from that gesture. A cautious sense of hope unfurled within her. His next words stopped any idea of help from him.

  “What’s in it for me?”

  She sighed. She should have known. Bitterness that she’d thought she left in the past balled in her stomach. The man was always out for number one. The so-called Saint did everything for his own notoriety, not because giving his finds to museums and historical societies was the right thing to do. Knowing she was close to begging -- and Liberty Wainwright did not beg -- she curled her lips in disgust.

  “Tell you what, Brady. I’m staying over at Delorosa’s Inn. You want to hear about it, show up. If not, kiss my ass. I’ll go it alone.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the bar. She pushed open the door and stepped outside. The cool night air washed over her, but it didn’t help her temper. Fighting the tears that threatened to spill over, she drew in a deep breath. Fatigue. That was all it was. It had been a long ten days since she’d started searching for Brady, and now it seemed she’d wasted precious time.

  Damn him for being a fucking mercenary.

  * * * * *

  “Hey, Saint. What was up with your lady?” Masters asked as he slid into the booth.

  “Not my woman.” Not anymore. One time...

  “Your loss.”

  He shot his friend a deadly look. “We had a thing when we were younger.”

  “Ahh. Is she really Wainwright’s daughter?” Brady nodded. “Hard to believe that old pain in the ass with a sweet thang like that for a daughter.”

  Brady snorted. “Sweet isn’t what she is.”

  Masters smacked his lips. Brady used every ounce of control not to punch him. “I bet she’s a bit on the tasty side. I always liked a gal with a little spice.”

  He scowled at his friend. They’d never competed for women. Both of them always had plenty to choose from. Robbie Masters was an inch or two shorter, but the ladies had a thing for that blond hair and those green eyes. Brady really didn’t care if he’d lost out any other time. But Libby was a different matter. No one was supposed to even fantasize about her.

  His mind drifted back to Master’s comments about Libby
. Spice. She definitely had that. Six years had passed, and damned if he didn’t have the same reaction the moment he heard that smart-ass comment -- instant hard-on. She’d been an itch under his skin for years, growing up right before his eyes. Two years younger and as horny for outerterrestrial archeology as he was. Not many women with mile-long legs understood a dig. She’d aged well in the last six years. She’d let her dark red hair grow. He wanted to know how long it really was, but she’d had it piled on top of her head. And the way those honey brown eyes snapped fire. Hmmm... Brady understood Masters’s attraction.

  “She’s out of your league, Masters. And, for once, the woman knows it.”

  “What she say about her father?”

  Brady watched him suck down his drink before answering. He was still trying to sort it out in his brain.

  “Something about him being missing. Nothing new.”

  “Yeah. That old man is constantly disappearing. When was the last time you talked to him?”

  “Six months ago. He wanted me to look for some dumbass legend.”

  Suddenly, Masters wasn’t so laid back. “Legend?”

  Brady cut him a derisive look. “The legend of the Snake King.”

  “Oh. Well, that is a dumbass legend. How many people have disappeared looking for that?”

  “At least one more.” Knowing he didn’t have a choice, Brady threw a few coins on the table and stood to leave.

  “Where you going, Saint?”

  “To see an old friend.”

  He just hoped he didn’t get his balls cut off in the process.

  Chapter Two

  Liberty stuffed the last of her gear into the bag and took another survey of the room. Everything was ready. She could skip out in the morning before the suns rose. Sooner, if need be. Confronting Brady in the bar might have earned her a few enemies. Male and female.

  After stripping out of her clothes, she used a rag and some warm tap water to clean off. Delorosa’s wasn’t the best accommodations, but then, it was better than most on Relecita. The room was sparse but halfway clean. The foam mattress bed was simple, without a headboard or footboard. The only other furniture in the room was a faux wooden table with a matching chair. Both of them had seen better days.

  As she pulled on a clean pair of pants -- she wanted to make sure she was ready to move if needed -- Liberty thought about her encounter with Brady, and frowned. She’d thought for sure he would have heard from Sterling by now. Buttoning her shirt, she thought about the last time she’d talked to her father and the bitter words they’d shared.

  She sighed and pushed off the guilt. They had been at each other since she hit fourteen and wanted to become an archeologist like him. But not like him. Liberty believed in ethics, not fortune-hunting. She believed in study, not adventure.

  Knowing that she wasn’t likely to get much real sleep, she decided to hit the bed early to get as much rest as possible. Before she could slide under the covers, a knock sounded at the door. She grabbed her stungun and walked slowly to the door, trying not to make a sound. Her heart stuttered and her breathing hitched when she stepped on a squeaky floorboard. She froze, waiting for another knock. What she heard was an aggravated sigh.

  “Libby, open the damn door. I’m too tired to play games tonight.”

  Relief rushed through her when she heard Brady’s voice. She knew she should feel irritated, but there was no reason. If he was here, he was planning to help.

  She reached the door and held it open just wide enough to look at him.

  “Whatcha want, Brady?” Liberty tried her best not to sound relieved, but it was hard. She knew she could go it alone and find her father, but it would be much easier with Brady by her side.

  “What I want...” His gaze traveled down her body and then back up. “Isn’t on the menu. Unless you changed your mind.”

  Heat tingled down her spin. Her nipples hardened. “No, I haven’t.”

  He shook his head. “Damn shame, Libby. We used to have some pretty good times.”

  She snorted and then opened the door wider. “Hmm, I think we remember our time together differently. But that’s neither here nor there. Come on in.”

  He brushed past her. She drew in a deep breath. His scent lingered in the air. Male, with a hint of soap.

  She closed the door and watched him as he walked around the room.

  “So you haven’t heard from Sterling in a year; I haven’t heard from him in six months.” He glanced at her pack. “Going somewhere?”

  “Brady, I was raised by Sterling. Do you think I would sleep without my gear ready to go at a moment’s notice?”

  His lips quirked. “No. You should’ve been a boy scout.”

  She rolled her eyes and settled in a rickety chair. “To get back to the matter at hand, no, I haven’t seen him since our argument. You know how he is.”

  Brady nodded. “Care to tell me who Mr. Doctor Wainwright was?”

  His tone was condescending, and for once she was happy she could put him in his place. “Anthony Freemont.”

  The smile faded from his face. “Anthony Freemont of Freemont Inc.? The company that finances most of these bloody fact-finding missions?”

  She could tell he was angry, because his Irish accent had slipped into his speech. Brady tried his best to keep people guessing about his background. He took perverse joy in letting people think he was American. Idiot. The only time he lost control of his accent was when he was angry, irritated, or really turned on.

  Not a good thing to be thinking about, Libby.

  “Yes. Hence our problems, along with a few other areas.”

  His gaze caught hers and she couldn’t look away. “What other areas?”

  “Just some problems we had.”

  “You knew who the bastard was when you married him.”

  “Yes, I did. But he wasn’t working for the family business five years ago. When he was drawn back in by his father, he... changed.” She swallowed the resentment. Bitter anger would do her no good.

  “So, what was Sterling doing when you talked to him last?”

  “Ever heard of the legend of the Snake King?” Brady thought Libby was about to faint, since all the color left her face in one fast rush. He stepped forward, ready to catch her if she should fall out of the chair.

  “The Snake King?” Her voice was a whisper, and she closed her eyes. “Jesus. I can’t believe he actually bought into that crap.”

  “I agree.” She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Hey, I’m not a dumbass.”

  She snorted. “No comment.”

  Irritated with her. Irritated with himself. Dammit, the woman had him in knots and he had been in her company less than five minutes. Just hearing her snort sent a wave of heat through him. “I turned him down. I was teaching in New York at the time.”

  “What did he say? Did he say anything about his plans, where he might go?”

  “I’d hoped that I talked him out of it. Even if the damn thing was true, too many men have died trying to find it.”

  She sighed and her shoulders slumped. He had to fight down the urge to go to her and pull her close. Because that would lead to feeling her curves pressed up against him. And that would lead to kissing, and that would lead to...

  “Well, I have no idea where to start. I found out he hired Dracon to fly him to Gelwan, but that was the last thing I can find.”

  “Dracon? I thought they were at odds.”

  She smiled, sadly. “You know those two. Sterling and he have been arguing for the last twenty years. At least someone levelheaded was with him. Dracon, from all reports, wasn’t happy about going, but when Sterling threatened to go it alone, he caved. I had no idea the Snake King was what they were after.”

  “You know all about it, then?”

  “The legend of an emerald from the Quantanz sector so brilliant that several wars were fought over it. Not for the price, but for the magical powers it is said to posses.”

  “To rule without fear of
being conquered.” He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “So, why was Sterling upset with your divorce? He isn’t puritanical, is he?”

  Her lips twisted into a cynical smile. “It had nothing to do with me, per se. You know him. Why would he not want me to divorce my husband?” When he shook his head, she continued. “Why, to benefit him, of course. Freemont Inc. was supposed to fund his latest adventure.”

  “Ah.” His voice was calm, but the anger boiling in his gut wasn’t. Damn Sterling for treating his daughter like a commodity. Again. Brady flexed his hands and tried his best not to pick up something and break it. The way the man had raised her had been one of the problems that had broken them up. The other part had to do with Libby not being able to accept things one day at a time. Always had to have a fucking plan for everything, and it drove him crazy.

  “So there is nothing really in it for you, as you can see.” She rolled her shoulders, which thrust her breasts against the soft fabric of her shirt. Momentarily his thoughts, and most of his blood, drained from his head. Libby looked to have finally grown into her almost-six-foot height. In more than one way. He licked his lips.

  “Excuse me.”

  He barely noted her voice as he watched her puckered nipples pressed against her shirt. He knew just the way they felt when he brushed the back of his hand against them.

  “Brady.”

  He glanced up at her face and felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. Damn, caught. He cleared his throat.

  “Sorry. So nothing, no money involved?”

  She tsked. “You should know better than that. If someone financed the trip, they’ll get a percentage of what he finds. Which I am sure is nothing. And you know he spent all the money on the trip. Sterling Wainwright always travels in style.”

  Brady heard the love and concern beneath her scorn. He’d known the Wainwrights since he’d been fortunate enough to stow away on Sterling’s hired ship. He’d been fifteen and green. Damn, he’d been lucky he’d picked the ship he did. When Libby found him hiding in the overhead compartment, he’d thought he would be sent back. Sterling took one look at him and saw a comrade. Libby acted as if he’d committed a crime. He took her place. But even with their estrangement, Brady knew she loved her father and worried about him. Truthfully, it usually didn’t take her this long to go looking for Sterling.