“Matters that could prove most uncomfortable.” Cheran paused. “For you.”
“Damn!” He yanked the door to his private offices open and stormed inside, kicking a chair out of his way. “That bitch! I knew it! I knew something was going on in that devious head of hers!”
Cheran waited quietly while Mellar brought his fury under control.
Taking a deep breath, Mellar sat down slowly. “Are you close to finding out who copied the disc?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then who is missing?”
“We’re checking all who live here and in the nearby settlement.”
“Good. Once you find the missing person, you’re to hunt them down with no mercy, do you understand?” Leaning forward, Mellar thumped his fist on the desk. “No mercy!”
Cheran bowed. “As you say, Sir. No mercy.”
~ * ~
Shamon and Heddam lifted the big crate and placed it in the cargo hold, ensuring it was settled against the far wall. Going down the ramp again, they passed Torkra and Mikal coming up the ramp carrying a small barrel each. The teenager brothers were arguing, as usual.
Well used to it, Shamon and Heddam passed them with grins.
“’Tis the last load here.” Simon gestured to the hover tray standing nearby. “Once done, we only have to wait for the merchant arriving in a few days and do the last trade with him quickly.”
“You just want to get this trip done so you can beat Des home.” Heddam winked knowingly.
“My lovely wife has some time off coming up, and I mean to be there to indulge in every second,” Simon retorted.
“Poor old, wed traders.” Shamon placed one hand on his chest and sighed. “Pining for their lasses when away, slaves to them when they’re home. Such a huge step down from being a care-free, single man.”
“Trust me, Shamon, ’Tis a huge step up.” Simon pointed at the cargo. “I’m wanting my little security officer, so let’s move it.”
“’Tis a sad time when a Daamen wants to hurry home.” Heddam sighed as he lifted a big barrel with ridiculous ease and balanced it on one brawny shoulder.
“Aye. He should be savouring the travel, the wenches, the brawls, the trading, the—” Shamon began, then caught sight of a ship landing nearby.
It landed with a screech of engines.
And he’d know that ship anywhere.
The traders all stopped to watch the ship land in the docking bay. The tortured screeching of airbrakes made Aamun, the engineer, shudder.
“Well, look who just about crash-landed.” Simon’s lips were quirked in amusement.
Shamon couldn’t stop the grin from curving his lips when the spaceship gave a shudder then whined down to a stand-still. Stealth was not the Larceny’s strong point. The ramp squealed down and smoke billowed out.
The grin of every trader was wiped away and as one they started at a run for the spaceship, just as Misha, Olin and Paz came staggering out of the cargo hold and down the ramp.
“I told you that blasted ship was a death trap!” Misha coughed.
Shamon looked up the ramp, fear clutching at him. “Where’s Gabie?”
“Right here.” Coming out of the smoke, Gabie waved, a cloth held to her lower face. “And don’t panic. The fire is out.”
“Fire?” Shamon was up to the ramp in several long strides. Grabbing her around her waist, he swung her down off the ramp and against himself, backing up to where the rest of the traders and her own crew waited.
Could the wench never stay out of trouble?
“I said it was out.” Gabie wriggled in his arms and he put her down. “I put it out.” Rolling her eyes at her crew, she added. “I don’t cut and run.”
“We were running for our lives.” Misha scowled at her.
“Gave me quite a turn when I woke up to the smoke alarm.” Olin wiped the sweat from his face.
“It was just a bit of smoke,” Gabie tried to soothe her crew.
Just the thought of the space ship being on fire was enough to make Shamon go cold inside. A fire in space could be lethal. He took a closer look at Gabie, but apart from a few smoke streaks, she looked fine.
Stars above, whichever man got saddled with this wench would age fast.
“When was the last time you had that death trap serviced?” he demanded.
“It gets done regularly,” Gabie smiled at him. “As regular as the sun rising and falling.”
“And you’ve been told a heap of times that you need a new space ship and this one is on its last engines.” Flinging her arms up in the air, Misha yelled, “And what do you do? You go back into this thing!”
“This is a top of the range ship.” Gabie patted one of the heavy iron arms that supported the ramp. “You just don’t understand it like I do.”
Misha rolled her eyes.
“It’s like flying in your own coffin,” Paz informed the Torkra and Mikal mournfully.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say it’s that bad.” Olin blinked and gave a little yawn.
“If ’tis that bad,” Shamon broke in before the motley crew could start arguing again, “Then you ought to send this thing to the salvage yard.”
“No need for that.” Linking her hands behind her back, she rocked backward and forward on her heels. “Top ship.”
“Gabie, the ship went on fire!”
“And I got the fire out.”
“Get a new ship. ’Tis a clunker that I’m surprised can even lift off the ground.” Shamon slapped the heavy iron arm and actually felt it slip its hinge a little. “See?”
Her green eyes sparkled with a touch of annoyance and amusement. “Here now, if you’d keep your ruddy great mitts to yourself, trader, instead of pounding on my ship, it would be fine!”
“Your ship is way past fine, lass.”
“Matter of opinion.”
“Of which she takes none.” Misha sighed.
“Besides, why are you worried?” Gabie smiled brightly.
“’Tis my business if you’d crashed into us, wench.” And I wouldn’t want to see you hurt, smuggler or not.
“Pshaw! I won’t crash.”
“No, the ship will,” Misha pointed out.
“Aye.” Shamon looked down at Gabie sternly. “You need a new ship. I’ll help you choose, if you wish.”
“Help me choose a new ship?” Finely arched brows shot up in surprise. “You?”
“You?” Torkra echoed.
Heddam’s mouth was hanging open and Simon was looking from Shamon to Gabie thoughtfully.
Shamon didn’t like Simon’s thoughtful looks. The man was too shrewd. But right now his concern wasn’t with his friend and captain, but with the little smuggler flying in a death trap.
“Now look, lass, ’Tis a fair offer. This ship is a death trap, and I’ll help you choose another. I can get you a good price...” Oops, probably not the right thing to say, especially to a smuggler.
Misha chortled. Olin grinned and blinked sleepily.
“You’re risking your life and that of your crew every time you get aboard that space ship.” Shamon folded his arms across his chest and looked sternly down at the amused, gamine face peering up at him, those bright eyes mirthful. He had to fight his own answering smile. The wench had to be made aware of the seriousness of what had happened.
“You don’t know the first thing about my ship,” Gabie replied. “And I would never risk the lives of my crew. So don’t worry about it, honey, there’s a good boy.” She looked at her crew. “Come on, you lot of wussies. We need to check the cargo and ensure all is okay.”
“You need to get your ship checked before you leave,” Shamon insisted.
Gabie laughed. “Have you seen the servicing offered in this place? I wouldn’t trust a salvage yard to them! No, I’ll just have to do a check myself and—”
“Hope it lasts until the next decent stop,” Misha put in. “Because sure as God made green apples, you’re not much better at servicing than the jerks around here.”
“Maybe.” Paz looked mournfully at Shamon. “Last time we got marooned in space, right on the outskirts of the Outlaw Sector. It was only luck that the next ship that stopped was friends.”
“It could have gotten nasty,” Olin added, looking apologetically at Gabie, who rolled her eyes.
Just the thought of Gabie marooned and at the mercy of any of the scum near the Outlaw Sector had an icy chill running down Shamon’s spine. He exchanged looks with Simon.
Gabie turned and started walking back up the ramp, her crew following with long-suffering sighs.
“Simon—” Shamon began.
“Don’t worry.” Simon stepped forward. “Gabie?”
“Don’t you start,” she retorted without pausing.
“I have a solution.”
That made her stop and turn inquiringly.
“How about if Aamun checks your engines, see where the main problems are?”
All hilarity fled to be replaced with genuine surprise. “Are you kidding me?”
Aamun moved forward. “Nay, lass. I’m one of the engineers. I’ll just check the engines and Kel will check the circuits. ’Twill be our pleasure.”
For the first time Shamon saw just how suspicious the little smuggler could be. She eyed Aamun closely then switched her gaze to Kel. He could practically see her mind ticking over.
Amused, he waited to hear what she was going to say, and to be sure, he was thinking it could be anything from this wench.
“Why would you help us?” she surprised him by asking, and not asking Simon but looking directly at Shamon himself.
“We’d not see you in trouble,” he replied. “You shouldn’t be risking your life and your crew’s by possibly being stranded in space. Or dead.”
He thought she was going to argue, but instead she exchanged a long look with Misha, who nodded.
Slowly, Gabie came down the ramp until she stood eye level with the traders. “You wouldn’t be trying to sabotage us, would you?”
“Pardon?” Simon blinked.
“You’re not exactly approving of our line of work—”
Heddam gave a snort of amusement.
She ignored him, her narrow gaze on Simon. “It would be a feather in the traders’ caps to sabotage a smu—private enterprise.”
Shamon frowned. “’Tis not the Daamen way to sabotage others, even those running a private enterprise. Simon offered services out of concern. ’Tis no trick.”
“Hmmm.” Gabie eyed Simon and then Shamon again, and then that smile lit up her gamine face. “Offer accepted, as one trader to another.”
Every trader laughed outright.
“So, how much?” Gabie asked again.
“Nothing, lass, ’Tis for nothing.” Simon smiled.
“Nothing?” Pursing her lips, she looked around at the traders before her gaze settled once again on Simon.
“Nothing,” he repeated.
Suspicion shone in her eyes once more. “What’s in this for you?”
“’Tis a suspicious little wench you are.” Chucking her under the chin like an indulgent brother, Simon looked at Aamun. “Do you and Kel have time to do the checks and servicing now?”
“Aye.” Aamun started up the ramp, Kel right behind him. “If someone could show us the engines?”
Gabie gestured to Misha and Olin. “Go with them.”
Amused, Shamon watched the two crew members scurry after his friends. They disappeared into the cargo hold and when he lowered his gaze again, he found himself looking down into bright green eyes that were studying him closely.
How interesting. The merry little smuggler had a suspicious streak a mile wide, and was obviously no one’s fool. Not that he’d ever thought the last, and he shouldn’t be surprised at the first. Smugglers trusted no one.
“I don’t like taking help without payment,” she told him bluntly.
“’Tis Simon you need to convince, not me,” he replied.
Hands on rounded hips—God she could make a grown man weak at the knees with a voluptuous figure like that—Gabie frowned up at Simon. “I don’t like being beholden.”
“’Tis not being beholden. ’Tis help we give, no strings attached.”
“I want to repay you with something.” She brightened. “I have some really nice cloth—”
A rumble of laughter swept through the traders. Shamon shook his head. The audacity of offering legal traders illegal goods was just the sort of thing the wench would do without any shame at all.
“I don’t think so, lass.” Simon was chuckling. “I wouldn’t touch your hot goods with a ten foot snarch.”
“I assure you, it’s all very above board. I have the invoice discs—”
That only made the traders laugh harder.
Shamon shook his head when she glared at him. The wench was unbelievable.
“If you don’t let me pay somehow,” Gabie snapped, the first real show of temper now on her face, “Your men will have to leave my ship.”
Shamon sobered. “Nay, lass. Your ship needs to be safe for you to travel in.”
“My ship, my law. My law is to take no help for nothing.”
Simon grinned. “Very well. You can buy my whole crew a meal at the tavern, how is that?”
“They eat like horses.” Paz broke his silence with a sad sigh. “Eat our profits, they will.”
Gabie rubbed her small, stubborn chin. “I think it’s an excellent idea.”
“We’ll be in the poor house.” Paz looked sadly at his big boots.
“Dinner tonight it is, then.” The spark of temper faded to be replaced with her normal merry expression.
They traders went back to their own ship, Shamon unable to resist glancing over his shoulder. She was moving under the ship, inspecting the hull with Paz by her side. That pert bottom was sticking up in the air as she bent to look at a small area under the hull. He wondered if it was as firm as it looked. It had sure looked firm when she’d been sprawled across his lap the other day. Mmmm boy, did it.
It was late afternoon when Aamun and Kel returned. Shamon was waiting for them by the side of the ramp.
“How that wench ever got that ship to fly in the first place is beyond me.” Aamun shook his head. “, ’tis a death trap.”
Concern splintered through Shamon and he straightened from his leaning position against the ramp arm. “Then the wench shouldn’t be in there.”
“’Twill be safe enough now.” Kel moved up beside Aamun, pulling the tie from his hair. “I’ve rewired some of the circuits and replaced a few of the conductors. Aamun serviced the engine and replaced a few parts.”
“Where did the parts come from?” Shamon had an uneasy thought, remembering Brucie’s accusations. “Not Gabie’s illegal cargo, I hope.”
Aamun laughed. “That wench is no one’s fool, Shamon, don’t worry. She has her own private stock of parts and good quality they are, too.”
His friends went up the ramp into the cargo hold, but Shamon stayed outside, his gaze on the smugglers’ ship. The wench was a worry, though he didn’t know why he should care. She was an annoying little outlaw, but aye... there was something likeable about her. Sort of like a vagrat. Small, cute looking, but untrustworthy.
And she was buying the meal tonight. Grinning, Shamon went up the ramp. He had to admit that he was looking forward to the evening in the company of the gamine little wench. Knowing the enemy was a good thing, he decided.
~ * ~
Lungs burning, he ran through the undergrowth, hiding when he heard the voices grow nearer, creeping out to run again when the voices faded. Blood blossomed on the side of his tunic, coming through the rough bandage he’d managed to make from a torn piece of his leggings.
The searchers were thorough. They raked the bushes with swords, uncaring of injuring him, just wanting to stop his flight. They’d found him missing within a matter of hours, and even though he’d h
ad a good head start, they had been hot on his trail ever since.
No doubt someone would have suffered enough to finally betray him. The choice of one over many. A harsh choice but the only one he knew they’d had. He didn’t blame them for that.
His heart pounded when he spotted the little planet shuttle not far off. It had been left unattended while the searchers scoured the surroundings for him. If he could get into it, he could flee the province and try for freedom, and the chance to deliver the disc to the one with whom his mistress had been in contact.
Trying to ignore the pain of his wound, he crept closer to the planet shuttle while studying the surroundings. The voices were far off. This was his chance. But still he was cautious and by the time he finally settled into the seat and the shield slid securely over top of him, precious minutes had ticked past.
The engine came to life soundlessly. Keeping it in darkness, he trusted his instinct and memory to guide the planet cruiser off the surface and into the sky. The communicator crackled, and he heard the cry of alarm come through it within twenty minutes.
The searchers had found the missing planet shuttle. It was now only a matter of time before they locked onto his position and the sky pursuit started.
Tightening his lips, he thumbed the thrusters and the planet cruiser shot deeper into the star-sparkled sky.
~ * ~
Leaning against the side of the big trading ship, Shamon breathed in the evening air. The sun was still partially up and everything was bathed in a warm golden glow. From outside the docking bay came the sounds of a still-busy settlement. Overhead flew a couple of space ships, as well as Enforcer planet cruises doing a fly over on patrol. The docking bay was quiet, the only ships in there currently the Daamens’ and Gabie’s ships and two planet shuttles. More would be arriving during the night. A busy settlement never had almost empty docking bays for long.
Heddam came down the ramp, peering in the direction of Gabie’s ship. “What ’tis happening over there?”
Shamon ran one hand through his shaggy hair. “Business. Very shoddy business, ’tis my guess. Nay, my knowledge.”
Gabie was standing beside the ramp arguing with a seedy looking character, thin and not very pleasant looking. Shamon had been monitoring the situation, ready to step in if it looked like Gabie was in trouble. Though why he should care he had no idea. Nay, ’twasn’t true. Like all Daamens, he couldn’t bear seeing a wench hurt, be they smugglers or not. And especially not Gabie.
Heart of a Smuggler Page 4