Heart of a Smuggler

by Heart of a Smuggler (lit)

  The game started with most of them, but as the time passed the traders started folding and backing out, as did Misha and Paz. Finally it left only Shamon and Gabie playing against each other. The small piles of dinnos in front of them were almost even. Most of the other traders had drifted off with the exception of Simon and Heddam, who were talking idly between themselves, a tavern wench perched happily on Heddam’s lap and running her hand through his long, shaggy hair.

  Misha was dancing not far off to the sound of the heavy music coming from the jukebox in the corner. Paz danced with her, his skinny arms and legs poking out every which way as he threw himself into the beat with more abandon than skill or grace.

  He really was a wonder to watch, but Shamon was more focused on the sprite sitting opposite him. The gleam of battle was in her eyes, challenge in the way she eyed his pile of dinnos, then him.

  Gabie, Shamon realized early on in the game, could play a risky game. She was shrewd, cunning, and bet with bad and good hands alike. She had a poker face to rival the best players and a skill for unnerving her opponents.

  “Come on, Shamon.” Gabie grinned widely. “How about it?”

  He eyed her with one arched brow.

  “You’re not going to back out now, are you?”

  “Wench, I’m not so sure about taking your dinnos from you.”

  “My dinnos? Pshaw!” She laughed outright. “Don’t you sweat it, honey. Now are you playing or not?”

  Her lips were soft and full and moist and pink. He wanted to taste them so badly it was a wonder he could even think straight. Those green eyes sparkled with the joy of living, and those bountiful breasts pushed enticingly against her shirt as she leaned forward over the table.

  He just bet those breasts would be a ripe handful. And he wanted to test that theory out.

  “I tell you what, Shamon, how about we make this a little more interesting?”

  “How?”

  Her grin was totally wicked. Pulling a pair of dice from her jacket pocket, she weighed them up. “A final toss of the dice for chance.”

  “Dice? What’s wrong with cards?”

  “Pooh. Cards is nothing but a poker face and being willing to gamble on bluff. Dice, now, that’s a real game of chance.” She flipped the dice up in the air. “I say we toss the dice. The highest score gets all the dinnos.”

  Thoughtfully he scratched his beard, intrigued by the sheer devilment dancing in her eyes.

  Stars, he could just imagine that living with this wench would be nothing but hair-raising and fun. He had no doubt she’d be a delight in bed. His gaze dropped to the dice she was tossing. Chance. He looked slowly up at her, an idea forming. Could he do it? Hell, aye.

  “Well, Daamen?”

  “How about we make it more interesting than just dinnos, lass?”

  “Ooohhh, now that excites me. What else are we playing for?”

  He smiled slow and easy. “You decide your prize and I’ll decide mine.”

  “All right.” Leaning her forearms on the table, she studied him thoughtfully, her gaze running over his face. The smile that crept across her face would have sent foreboding through a lesser man. “Your beard.”

  “Pardon?” He was caught off guard.

  “I win the toss, you dissolve that atrocious beard.”

  “My beard?” His treasured beard? Shamon stroked the neatly clipped hair. He’d had his beard for years. Could he gamble it away? Hell, aye. Because if he won the toss, he was going to get a whole lot more. A beard he could always regrow. “Done.”

  “Really?” She was delighted. “Fine. What’s your prize?”

  Oh boy. Without hesitation he crooked his finger at her and leaned forward. Curiosity bright in her eyes, she met him halfway across the table. Brushing his lips across her cheek, he felt her start slightly but she didn’t move. His cheek caressed her softer one, and he breathed deep of her light, sweet scent. His gut clenched and desire surged hot and deep.

  He breathed the word into her ear so only she could hear. “You.”

  There was silence for a split second, then she spoke in a hushed whisper. “What?”

  “You. In my bed. One night.”

  Three

  There was silence between them before she slowly drew back and looked at him. Their faces were only inches apart, he could feel the warm moistness of her breath on his own lips, and it took all he had to not move forward and claim her mouth and lick deep.

  Her green eyes were enormous, surprise reflected deep inside. He could just about see her brain ticking over as she digested his words. Shamon half expected her to haul back and slap him one, but he refused to hide the desire he knew was flaring in his eyes.

  “Well?” he breathed.

  “Deal.” Pushing back, she dropped into her chair and handed him the dice. She looked at him and smiled. That he could see, she wasn’t mad at him. A little disconcerted but not raging mad.

  That had to be a good sign. Mayhaps she was attracted to him, too. She had to be, to take him up on his offer. Gabie wasn’t the kind to fall into just anyone’s bed over a game of chance, he was sure.

  Heat sizzled through him, desire uncurling. If he won, she’d be in his bed this night. He’d rent a room and she wouldn’t be leaving it until morning.

  “Come on, honey.” She purred the words. “I want to see that beard come off.”

  And I want you beneath me. He didn’t say the words aloud, knowing that Heddam and Simon were watching him and Gabie closely, but he knew she got the silent message when her cheeks went a faint pink.

  Misha came to stand by the table as Shamon rattled the dice in his fist, his gaze never leaving Gabie.

  “What are you doing?’ Misha queried.

  “Game of chance,” Gabie replied. “Big prize.”

  “Oh, I do like chances.” Misha swallowed the last of the ale in her mug.

  Shamon tossed the dice and all eyes watched as the pair rattled on the table and finally came to a stop. A five and a six. Looking across at Gabie, Shamon smiled slow and hot. Within minutes he’d have the lass to himself , up in a room, a big bed beckoning. Not that he needed a bed, he could do the deed a dozen different ways, but he wanted to stretch her out before him and indulge in some leisurely tasting first.

  Heat flared through him and he didn’t bother to hide it from Gabie.

  Pursing her lips, she eyed Shamon and then the dice in her hand. Biting her lip lightly—God, he couldn’t wait to do that himself, then lick it soothingly—Gabie rattled the dice and threw.

  Dimly Shamon was aware of Misha muttering a curse as her mug dropped to the floor. She went down and crawled under the table, he felt her bump his leg, but again he hardly noticed it. His gaze was focused on the pair of dice as they rolled and twirled on the table.

  They slowed, twisted and dropped suddenly. A pair of sixes.

  Bugger. Shamon looked up to see the gleam of victory in Gabie’s eyes. But all wasn’t lost. He was here, she was here, and a bed was upstairs. Opening his mouth to suggest they go and have their own roll, he was diverted by Gabie leaning across the table and crooking her finger at him.

  Leaning forward to meet her, he watched as she smiled deeply, those lush lips making a heaviness fill his loins.

  “When I see you in the morning, Shamon, that beard will be gone.” Reaching out, she stroked one finger down his cheek to his jaw, curving her hand around the strong lines. “And this is to let you know what you missed out on.”

  She kissed him. Her lips were warm, her tongue stroking across his lips lightly.

  Hallelujah! Shamon opened his mouth, more than ready to sweep deep and discover her honeyed depths, but she let his jaw go and drew back, wagging one finger at him teasingly.

  “Oh no, you don’t. You didn’t win the prize, you don’t get more than a tiny taste.”

  “But—” It couldn’t end like this!

  Standing up, she swept his pile of dinnos to join hers and dropped them into a pouch she produced fro
m her jacket pocket. Giving him a cheerful little wave, she stepped back from the table.

  “It’s been a pleasure, gents,” Gabie said. “However, we must be getting along.” She gave Shamon a wink. “A real pleasure. Catch you around, honey.”

  He could only watch open-mouthed as the wench and her albino friend disappeared into the crowd. Paz noticed them going and took off after them, sharp elbows digging a pathway through the patrons.

  “What just happened?” Heddam finally broke the silence.

  “’Tis what I’d like to know,” Simon said, his thoughtful gaze on Shamon.

  Sitting back gently, Shamon tried to ease the discomfort of the partial erection in his pants by shifting subtly. Just the thought of bedding the wench had been enough to make him hard, but not being able to relieve it by burying himself in her warm depths was a pain in the... “I lost the dice toss.”

  “Aye, ’Tis so,” Heddam agreed. “But what did you bet? I heard you bet your beard. Stars, you have to dissolve your beard!”

  Shamon rubbed one hand reflectively over his jaw. He’d gladly trade his beard for one night with Gabie.

  “Mind telling us what your prize was going to be?” Simon queried. “Or is my guess correct?”

  “I bet ’twas correct.” Heddam nudged him and grinned. “The way Shamon was looking at the lass, I thought he was going to take her then and there on the table. I was about ready to drag them both upstairs and toss them into a room away from shocked eyes.”

  Simon leaned forward, eyes shrewd. “Gabie was your prize.”

  Shamon sighed. “Was. I lost.”

  Heddam guffawed.

  “However, ’tis not the last of it.” Shamon reached for Heddam’s mug of ale and drained it in one gulp. Slamming it back onto the table, he looked at the empty space across the table. “That wench may have won the dice toss, but it comes with a price.”

  ~ * ~

  “How much did you win?” Paz asked, gambolling along beside Gabie like a young colt whose legs were way too skinny and ungainly.

  “A fair bit. I’ll share it out back on board the ship.” Gabie took a deep breath of the cool night air, glad that no one could see her hot cheeks in the darkness.

  Cripes, Shamon had wanted her. Oh God! She couldn’t believe it. A roguish hunk like him wanting a piece like her. Gabie had no illusions, she was no real beauty and her figure was by no means graceful. Voluptuous was the kindest anyone could say.

  But that giant hunk of testosterone plus had wanted her. His brown eyes had burned with sexual desire. Just his look had almost set her clothes smouldering. It sure as stars had made dampness between her thighs.

  But Gabie was never one to simply sleep around with whomever she found attractive. It wasn’t her way. No sir. There had to be more than just attraction. There had to be a special something, and so far she’d never found that special something with any of the men she’d met.

  “One day,” Paz said, “you’ll lose at the dice.”

  “No chance. My secret weapon was by my side.”

  “I was watching, don’t you worry, Paz.” Misha patted the pocket of her pants. “I had everything under control.”

  If Misha hadn’t been there, no way would Gabie have agreed to such an outrageous bet. She played for big stakes with dice, but never without her secret weapon. She’d be a fool to play for what she did by chance alone.

  ~ * ~

  “What do you mean she isn’t interested in taking the cargo?” Raznin scowled up at Link from his reclining position in the chair.

  “She refuses to take anything that doesn’t have a disc.” Link sneered. “As if the discs are legit, anyway. They’re simply a cover.”

  “Gabie’s no fool. It’s how she’s managed to be able to smuggle goods almost in plain sight of the law.” Raznin steepled his fingers and gazed over them at Tason. “She doesn’t take chances. That’s her secret to success.”

  “And the reason she never makes wealth,” Tason stated.

  “She’s not greedy.” Raznin looked at Link. “What about her crew? Can they be persuaded to talk her into it?”

  “That lot are loyal to her.” Link grimaced. “If I even tried to talk them into it, Misha would shoot me without a qualm.”

  Lifting his steepled fingers to his face, Raznin tapped his fingertips against his chin. He needed someone else he could trust to take some cargo through the Lawful Sector. Gabie was the ideal choice. There was no one else he could think of that he’d trust enough for this job.

  Gabie was ideal because the law sometimes let her pass, knowing she’d have all documentation for her goods. Illegal goods and fake documentation, but there nonetheless. Where she got such good fake discs he didn’t know, no one did, but it was something else he meant to find out about from her.

  In fact, maybe he needed to have a little chat with Gabie himself. Push the issue of working for him, and find out where she got the discs.

  “Tason,” Raznin said quietly. “I want to chat with Gabie.”

  Tason nodded.

  “When we land in the morning, find her and issue an invitation to meet me for business.”

  Tason nodded again.

  “Be sure she knows who I am.”

  Tason inclined his head.

  “And if she needs some persuasion to come, do it discreetly.”

  “Consider it done.”

  ~ * ~

  Out of fuel, the planet cruiser landed jerkily, crashing through several bushes before coming to a halt. He climbed from it painfully, stumbling and falling to the dirt. He’d lost a lot of blood and could feel himself growing weaker by the minute.

  There was a settlement nearby, he could see the lights. He needed to get the disc to one person only, one person who could do anything about what was happening. And he wasn’t even on the right planet. A sob slipped out, quickly hushed.

  Breathing harshly, he stumbled through the bushes towards the light. Coming to the outskirts of the settlement, he wondered where he should go, who he should turn to. He needed to trust someone, but who? It couldn’t be the Peacekeepers, couldn’t be anyone law-abiding, yet it couldn’t be outlaws, either. Someone might recognize him, and he would be worth a lot of dinnos from the right source.

  His gaze wavered, darkness threatening to drag him down into oblivion.

  Forcing himself onwards, he staggered through the back alleys, dodging drunks and a few lowlife scum who avoided him after seeing the blood coating his side. Trying to scout out the settlement, he frantically gathered his thoughts.

  The Enforcement Building? Should he go there? Would one of them be in cahoots with Mellar? And if he went there, they’d see his mark anyway and notify Mellar.

  Whoever saw him would know, and that couldn’t happen. He couldn’t give the only chance they all had now, not when he was so sure she was dead and had died for them all. He couldn’t waste her sacrifice like that. He couldn’t do that to her, or his family, or the others who were counting on him, even though some of them didn’t even know what he and that courageous woman had planned.

  His vision blurred and he staggered against a wall, leaving a smear of blood against the rough stone.

  Time passed in a darkening haze and then suddenly he was out in the open. Fear shook him, the vulnerability of his position snaking through him with icy fingers. He wavered, trying to run for cover, but his legs gave out. He crawled through the dirt, dragging himself along painfully. If he was discovered, all could be lost in one look.

  Desperate, he clasped the wall he reached and dragged himself up. In a blur he saw the ships, two of them. A docking bay. There might be another planet cruiser he could steal.

  Hand on his side, he did a staggering run through the darkness and then the dim lights. Unable to see properly, he stumbled and fell against something hard. Darkness came down ruthlessly as pain exploded through him, and he fell.

  Stay awake! I must stay awake!

  Voices approaching, but he couldn’t make out the ones th
ey belonged to. A laugh reached him, light and tinkling. It stopped and suddenly hands were touching him, running over his chest. Voices low.

  “I think we better get the peacekeepers.”

  “No!” He gasped it out, one hand flailing weakly.

  “It’s all right.” A hand caught his. “We’ll get help—”

  “No. No, I can’t be caught.” He drew in an agonised breath. “I beg you.”

  “Caught?” Another voice joined the soothing tones. “I think he’s an outlaw, Gabie.”

  “What are we going to do?” This voice was a youth’s, a slight break in the tones.

  There was silence for several seconds.

  “Please,” he whispered, weakly squeezing the hand holding his. “Please.”

  “Help me get him inside.” The hand shifted, releasing his.

  Inside. Not the peacekeepers. Maybe. Who was it?

  “If they come looking for him we don’t have a disc, Gabie.” The other female voice held a touch of irony.

  “Cripes, where’s your sense of adventure?” the one called Gabie replied. “Come on, give us a hand. Mister, this may hurt but if you keep quiet we’ll get you into cover and see to your wounds, okay?”

  “O… kay...” he managed.

  Pain scoured through him as hands came under his armpits and hauled him up. Definite female bodies came either side of him, arms around his waist, and his arms over their shoulders. He was moving but he couldn’t see properly, just managing to stay conscious.

  Up a ramp, into a spaceship. A torturous climb up some stairs that seemed to last forever. A stumbling, though supported walk, down a corridor of some kind, he would guess. And then he was lowered onto a soft mattress.

  “Thank... you...”

  “Hey, you haven’t felt Olin’s dubious first aid methods, so keep the thanks until later,” the one called Gabie replied. “Speaking of which, Paz, go wake up Olin. Get some hot una into him and get him down here fast.”

  The yawning pit of oblivion was pulling at his shattered senses, but he had to ask, had to plead just once more. “Please. No... law. No... one...”

  “You got it,” Gabie replied.