Becca

by Mima

  “You want to fuck and let him find us?” He sucked her earlobe, and the shiver that took her was entirely honest. Her body was primed and didn’t seem to care about the quality of honor in her partners.

  She nodded. “Unless you think it’s dangerous. Would he kill us?”

  Cal thought about that. “It would be better if you fucked Don. Captain wouldn’t move against Don.” He nibbled her throat.

  She laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m afraid of him, too. He’s the one who killed Darnell, I bet.”

  “Yeah, and come to think of it, Don really just gets it up for poker.” Cal checked his plax-page, stared into the distance, and muttered, “Perfect timing.” He rose fast and pulled her to her feet. He was a bit taller than her and not large, but his presence was so strong he seemed intimidating. “Come on.”

  He led her down to the cargo hall and past Joe, who flicked a glance at them but didn’t say a word. Then he pulled her into the refrigerated bay and down the central aisle to the back wall. He looked her up and down, then opened his flight suit at the crotch and pulled his dick out. “On your knees.”

  She stared at him. What a class act. “No thank you. I want this to have a purpose and I have a private room.”

  He frowned, pumping his penis. “Don is due to walk in here any minute and it’s going to be better if he finds us instead of the captain.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Which minute?”

  Cal grinned. “Soon.”

  She looked down at him and gasped. His erection was tattooed! It was a swirl of colors, with the newest iridescent ink, as well as thick, raised black lines that practically corrugated his cock.

  “Come on, Baby Blue Eyes. You’re gonna love sucking my pretty cock. Show Cal how glad you are he’s rescuing you.”

  She licked her lips. “This is crude. I told you I had a bad time”—a spine-meltingly wonderful time—“with the captain. Can’t we just make out?”

  “Blue, I haven’t had a woman in seven months. Do you know how expensive it is to buy a whore when you have a record? Ever since they unionized, they’re damn picky. And it takes a lot of time and effort to woo some slut in a bar. I’m risking my neck for you. Get on your knees and say thank you.”

  Becca’s heart jumped all over in her chest. She couldn’t believe the turns her life had taken in a day. Abruptly her teeth chattered and it wasn’t from the frigid air. The room spun around her.

  “Hey.” Cal reached out and pulled her in close. “No fainting.” His arm was around her and she felt his erection against her hip. His hand cupped her face. “Shhh. Look, it’s okay.”

  The bay doors hissed open. Cal’s hands tightened on her a moment and then he said, too loudly for how close he stood, “Oh, yeah, Blue. So good.” He winked at her.

  She nodded. “Mmmm. Look at you,” she cooed in her sultriest loud voice.

  Her hand reached out and wrapped around his dick. He was so warm she gasped. She stroked him firmly, enjoying the dense, solid feel of him. Now it was his turn to gasp.

  “For someone who’s not a whore, you’re certainly acting like one.”

  Don’s voice came from directly over her head. The shriek of surprise was entirely honest. She jumped a foot and stumbled back from Cal. Instead of coming down the aisle, Don was standing above them on the three-layer tier of crates, looming and leering. With his big beak nose and ruffled black hair he was just like a carrion crow.

  “Fuck you, Don. Beat it. I’m getting laid here.” Cal reached for her and pulled her into him again.

  “She’s already been with the captain.” Don folded his arms. “He’s quite taken with her.”

  “So what!” Cal swooped in and kissed her neck noisily. “Put your sweet hands back on my cock, Blue. Don, get the fuck out. I’m not into being watched.”

  “You will pause a moment, Calvin. I need a word with the overseer.”

  Cal let out a string of curses and stepped away from her to put his hands on his hips and glare up at Djetivoch. His erection wasn’t shy.

  The security master stared at Becca and she felt death shiver past her. “I don’t care for drama among the cargo bays. This doesn’t bode well for getting the job done.”

  “I’ll get the job done. Anything outside of the job is none of your business.” But she couldn’t keep from wrapping her arms around herself defensively.

  Djetivoch studied them both for a few more knee-shaking minutes, then jumped to the ground. His tall, thin body stayed perfectly controlled. “You need to fill the morning roster.”

  “I understand that.” She lifted her chin. Darnell’s death just meant the absence of a worker to him. “The rotations will be adjusted.”

  He nodded and turned to go.

  She waited until he was at the corner then called, “You don’t need to tell the captain about this.”

  He gave her one disdainful look. “I know that, but I’ll so enjoy it.” He sniffed.

  As soon as he was out of sight, Cal urged, “Come on, baby, touch me.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” They were both aware that every word they said was for Djetivoch. “You said no one would find us here.”

  He whined, which was really annoying. “Aw, now, don’t get all upset. You said you wanted to play.”

  “Well, the mood has turned. I’m done here.” She walked away.

  He reached out and grabbed her arm. His face matched his cold voice. “I don’t like women who tease. You were all over me when you needed me and I don’t hold with this kind of snotty pride. You wanted a fuck and you should deliver.” He wasn’t acting anymore. His words rang with angry pride.

  The bay doors opened and closed. Becca pulled her arm from Cal’s. “I’m going to my room. Alone.”

  She knew she’d made an enemy, but she’d succeeded in distancing herself from the captain. That night, he didn’t stop by. She went to poker and made sure she lost to Cal.

  A week later they docked at London Moon. The days had been tense, with Cal sniping at her as much as he could. Her ploy had worked, though. The captain stayed away. Daily, she made a show of flirting in the lounge as part of her cover as a confirmed slut. It felt like she’d kissed and groped half the crew. She’d gotten little sleep.

  She, Joe, Feor, and Cal were all in the bay, lining up the deliveries for London Moon. It turned out she’d done a good job of packing them in the first place and very little rearranging was needed. The men were laughing, discussing which bar they’d stop at as the Pot was docked for six hours.

  Djetivoch and the captain came down the stairs together. It was only the second time she’d seen the captain since that day and her face went just as red as it had before. She had a crystal-clear mental image of his face tight with pleasure, his mouth red and shining with dampness as he licked at her nipple.

  He came up to her, his face closed. “At customs, you don’t say a word. Don’t stop, don’t hesitate. If security says anything to you at any point, you summon Don. At delivery, you hand this plax-page to a handler named Jolene, and this false one to whatever minion is on duty. The false one has a little dent on the side, see it?” He gave her two plax-pages that were both worn and obviously retooled. “Don’t open your mouth for any reason—I don’t care how handsome he is.”

  She nodded, not rising to his dig. She’d made sure Don had found her laughing privately with Feor during a late shift, too, just to cement any suspicion regarding why she was there late. Feor was actually the most normal person in the whole group, despite his teeth.

  The captain’s wrist-plax chirped. “It’s time. Don’t let us down.” The warning was clear, his words edged with a snarl. He turned and they both left.

  She swallowed. Feor and Cal went to the far end of the hall and began to unlock the doors that would lead to the cargo dock. It was a long process and they had to wait for the atmo safeties to
register. Becca watched them, her hands sweating all over the two plax-pages she held. This was it.

  She had come down to two plans. She would either carry through with the delivery flawlessly and then contact her big brother to help her break this up from the safety of the station, or she would “accidentally” give the true plax-page to the real station manager. Cal and Feor pushed the massive doors open and Joe swung up into one of the stocked pallet loaders.

  She could see the station security guards and uniformed customs officials standing with scanners at the end of their ramp. The guards were wearing live weapons and she suddenly felt very exposed. She wasn’t sure who presented the bigger risk, her own team or the guards. The station looked very white and clean. Was she going to wait for her brother, or risk the revelation herself?

  “You’re right,” she said quietly. Becca planned on leaving in a week, and starting an affair was crazy. “I’m reacting to our attraction, but not thinking with my head. I’m not here for pleasure.” Her mouth twisted. “Unfortunately.”

  She breathed deep through her disappointment. She wanted to start her own career, not play with a love that would shock her parents. She had to get her priorities straight. “I’m sorry.”

  Gage pushed past her and opened the door. He gestured her into the hallway. “Why don’t you go first? Wouldn’t want people to see us together.”

  “It’s not like that, Gage.”

  He stared at the floor. She felt like shit. Deciding not to upset him any further, she left.

  That evening, when she reported to the mess hall at her scheduled dinnertime, she wasn’t there five minutes before she knew Gage had told the kitchen staff something. What was there to tell? That they’d kissed and he’d rebuffed her? That he’d thrown down an ugly vision of an impossible relationship and she’d agreed? Somehow, she didn’t think those were the truths he’d shared. Their faces lined up in the serving windows to stare daggers at her.

  She went to the first window to pick up her utensils and tray. There was a dark-skinned man there who glared down without expression. She clenched her jaw and moved to the main food window. Studying the plates passing by on their conveyor belt, she reached for a salad. There was a flash of fur and the plate whipped through the air and clattered to the floor, spilling veggies everywhere.

  “Clumsy slut,” hissed the older woman glaring at her. “You waste it, you dock it. That’s your meal for the night.”

  Heat rose up into Becca’s face. She was astonished. “Is Gage there? I’d like to talk to him.”

  Laughter erupted from the line of faces watching her, loud and mean. The older man, Roscoe, smirked at her. Gage had pointed him out as the leader. “Lord-damned bone-ass, get your furless self out of here. Your likes don’t matter spit.” He picked up a glass of juice. “Speaking of spit . . .” He openly hawked up a phlegmy wad into the glass. It bobbed there, a pale mass. He reached out and plunked it on her tray. “Enjoy your evening beverage.”

  Tossing a look over her shoulder at the titters spreading behind her, she saw all the closest crew tables were watching the altercation.

  She turned back to the people behind the counter. “I never meant to hurt him and I certainly meant no insult to you. There is no cause to treat me like this.”

  The redheaded woman she’d seen earlier in the day tossed back her head and began to whine in a loud, fake way Becca took as mockery.

  She closed her eyes, her fingers tight on her tray with napkin and fork, and ruined juice. That just made the whispers and surrounding laughter worse. She breathed deep and was reminded of how Gage had steered her to be calm. In for three, out for three.

  It didn’t work. Anger bubbled in her gut and spewed up her throat.

  “What’s going on here?” The words burst from a deep, bruised place inside. Yesterday she’d been a confident woman eager to work hard and fit in. “Of all the people to pick on, how dare you treat me like this! I’m not your enemy.”

  They all laughed louder, except the petite blonde who’d snapped at her when Becca had first entered the kitchen this morning. That woman hissed.

  Words of rage boiled up inside Becca. She was sick of people mistreating her, of the general injustice and incompetence this ship overflowed with. It was a pot all right, but it wasn’t full of cider.

  The men behind her began to chant, soft and eager. “Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight.”

  Heart pounding, lungs working, eyes burning, Becca stared the group of rumpies down, unable to turn her feet away from this nightmare. She’d always been well liked. And she never backed down from bullies.

  The mental vision of her taking her tray and smashing it across the pretty face of the hissing girl popped into her head. She wanted to scream at them more, to let all the anger out. Lifting her chin, the moment froze. Was she going to continue this confrontation, or should she just go back to her pod?

  Stiffly, Becca stood and went to the vid-com. She dialed the number her brother had made her memorize when she’d won this berth a month ago. She was shocked when he answered. He was in a civilian T-shirt, but she recognized the corridor behind him as a military ship.

  “Becca, what is it?” His voice was tense and alert. His gaze roamed her face and locked on her bruised neck. When she struggled to speak, he spoke more urgently. “Laurent, put a trace on this call now. Becca, stay on the line.”

  She took a noisy breath. “Rex. It’s okay. I’m fine. I mean, I’m not fine, but I’m not in danger.” Anymore. She gripped the edge of the counter with both hands. Realizing how long it had been since she’d felt safe, she almost started to cry. The sex hadn’t been worth it. Always having to be on was incredibly draining. She was tired. “I’m kinda stranded. I need a ride home.” It was easier to say than she’d thought it would have been. Looking into his concerned face made it easier.

  Someone mumbled celestial coordinates to him off screen. He scowled. “Are you secure for nine hours?”

  She shrugged. “Yes, I think so. I’m in a bar. I can wander from place to place.”

  “Get me the manager.”

  She shook her head, but in a few minutes he’d argued her down. The man growled about coming to the com but straightened when he saw Rex in full scowl, now wearing his dress coat. Rex gave firm orders for the man to feed and host Becca for the next twelve hours and promised a generous fee for letting her stay. The man quickly agreed and went off to find Becca some socks and shoes.

  “Rex . . . I’m sorry.” She knew it would cause trouble for him to send someone.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Becca, but we’ll have to cross the Gideon Belt, so I might not make it in nine hours. I could have someone there within the hour, but if your life isn’t in danger, I’d rather come myself.”

  Her eyes widened. “Rex! You can’t come yourself! Lord, the press will pounce the instant you land here!”

  “No they won’t. I won’t be docking as military or as me.” He winked. His eyes were as bright blue as hers. Her brother was a fine-looking man.

  She bit her lip. “I—I—” Shaking her head, she breathed, “I love you.”

  “Keep your head down and your mouth shut.” He smirked. “If you can.”

  The transmission cut off. It was a long, long night, and the waiting continued well into the next day. The tavern manager stood by his word and gave her food, and it was surprisingly good. He offered a cot in the back room, but she declined. She even managed to have a pleasant conversation with a treetop trader for a few hours, while he was on layover with his ship.

  Finally, Rex strode into the room. His wide-brimmed hat looked absurd, and his shoulders were stooped in the ratty old flight suit he wore. He shuffled over only to ruin his disguise by pulling her into a strong hug. Then he pressed her plax-page into her hand.

  She gaped at it. “How did you—?”

  “Come on, Bec.” He tossed
the manager a generous credit chit.

  She was astonished he appeared to have no staff with him. Soon she was on board a fairly new but not top-of-line passenger slicer. Here was the staff she’d expected, his best friend and assistant Laurent, a female pilot who didn’t acknowledge her hello, and a treetop-humanoid in fatigues who Rex introduced as Sparky.

  Rex first put her in the med unit, despite her protests. Her injuries turned out to be limited to minor bruises and she was glad he had no further reason to fuss. Then he put her in the cleanser and gave her a new flight suit, although it was military gray.

  She sat down at the table with Rex, Laurent, and Sparky, feeling refreshed. He’d lost the hat, and his red-tinted blond hair stood up wildly.

  “So where are we headed?” she asked. She assumed they’d rendezvous with a military ship and she’d be sent home via a courier.

  “The Cider Pot, of course.” He tapped at his wrist-plax. “We’re boarding in about ten minutes.”

  She blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “You didn’t think I’d let a couple of lecherous Syndicate scum throw my little sister out, did you?”

  She shook her head. “Don’t do this, Rex.”

  He grinned. “Why not? It’s fun.” His eyes glittered like ice, and his teeth seemed longer.

  Sometimes she forgot how alike they could be. She licked her lips. “I wasn’t exactly innocent in this mess.”

  Laurent leaned in and tapped her under the chin. “Tut. No one deserves to be marooned. Leave them to Uncle Laurent.”

  Since “Uncle” Laurent was only three years Becca’s senior, she rolled her eyes. “No guns. That’s my condition to stand by and let you swing your fists around. It’s not going to change them, and all you’ll do is earn a black mark from the Syndicate, who never forget.”

  “Did he rape you, Becca?” Sparky asked quietly. “We need to know.”

  The other men froze, staring at the table.

  “You’re nobody to me,” she snapped, her voice too shrill. “You don’t need to know shit.”