Heart of a Smuggler

by Heart of a Smuggler (lit)

  “I’m making it my business.”

  “Well don’t. Having a grope doesn’t make you responsible for what happens to me.”

  The silence that fell had the weight of a stone in a pond. It dropped down hard, and the widening ripples from it were unsettling, to say the least.

  Every trace of care-free trader vanished before Gabie’s very eyes.

  Uh-oh. Gabie just knew she’d overstepped a boundary somewhere. “Shamon, I—”

  Her words were stopped when Shamon grabbed her other arm and pulled her hard against him. Startled, she had to tip her head back to meet his furious gaze. An atmosphere of warning filled the air, the darkness that crept over Shamon’s handsome face and turning it from rakish to almost dangerous, making her breath catch.

  Shamon leaned down enough to put them almost nose to nose. He glared into her wide eyes and said slowly, low and distinct, “You ever say anything like that to me again and I will personally see to it that you don’t sit down for a week.”

  Oooh that sounded promising. The wayward thought skittered off into the recesses of her mind, leaving her to stare in surprise at the furious man before her. “Shamon, what happened between us was only a—”

  One finger was placed against her lips, stopping her words once again. The glint in Shamon’s eyes didn’t bode well. “You don’t want to go any further with that sentence, wench.”

  The warning was there in his eyes, in the hard line of his jaw, and in the flex of his fingers on her arm.

  Gabie tried to make sense of it all. “Shamon, it was a toss of the dice, nothing more than—” She shrieked as he suddenly lunged upright, taking her with him.

  Feet dangling well above level, Gabie found herself held up by the sheer strength in the hands on her arms and the bulging muscles in his arms. Impressive, considering she was no frail lightweight.

  The heat in his eyes now had nothing to do with desire. “What ’tis between us has nothing to do with the dice, and everything to do with a man and a wench. But right now, Gabie, I’m more interested in this outlaw who is illegally aboard your ship and putting you in danger.”

  “He’s flat on his back, Shamon, no danger at all.”

  “You know what I mean.” Frustration flickered across his face, evident in the growl of his voice and the pull of his lips.

  “Could you put me down? It’s a little disconcerting to be up this high.” And she couldn’t think properly being in such close contact with this magnificent, angry male.

  He stared at her for several seconds then put her down. Slowly. Sliding her against his body in such an unconsciously possessive way that it had Gabie catching her breath. As soon as her feet hit the floor, he bent over her, keeping their faces level.

  “You better have some answers, wench.”

  Irritation flickered through her once more. The muscle-bound moron might make her mouth water and her knees go weak, but she wasn’t about to be brow-beaten by him, either. Poking him in one hard pectoral, she snapped, “This isn’t your business, and you don’t have the right to make it so, now back off, big boy.”

  Cripes, that made his strong jaw harden even more, giving it the appearance of having been carved from granite. The light of battle was in his eyes. Gabie groaned mentally. Now she had her work cut out for her, but she still refused to back down. No, there was only one thing she could think of to end this confrontation. She had to lie.

  “He’s here for a short time only.” Changing tactics fast, she spoke soothingly, trying to sound reasonable when all she wanted to do was kick the trader’s stubborn arse. “He’s going soon.”

  “He’s sick, burning up with fever—”

  “Olin is taking care of him.”

  “Who is he?”

  “A friend.” She arched one brow at him goadingly before remembering that she was trying soothe the savage beast, not inflame him further. “I don’t leave friends to suffer. We’ll make him better and then he’s going. That’s it.”

  Shamon’s gaze was sharp, probing, as he searched her face.

  Gabie maintained a slightly irritated but sincere expression.

  It was a tense few minutes, but finally Shamon straightened, though he didn’t release her arms. He looked towards the cabin doorway, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

  Turning his gaze back to her, he shook his head suddenly. “You, lass, would try any man’s patience.”

  “That’s not a nice thing to say.”

  “The truth sometimes isn’t.” His fingers eased on her arms, running soothingly up and down them instead. “You promise me you’ll be careful, Gabie.”

  The anger was still in his eyes, but so was resignation. A good sign. The handsome, muscle-bound hunk was realizing that she wasn’t going to be pushed around.

  “I’m always careful,” she replied, almost distracted by his fingers trailing around her wrists and easing under the cuffs of her shirt.

  “Are you staying here?”

  “Huh?”

  “In this settlement. This docking bay.”

  “Yes.” For a short time. “Why?”

  “Michel has already had your ship searched, so he won’t do it again for a while. Time enough for your friend to heal and disappear, and leave you safe.”

  She smiled slowly. “Honey, you really do care.”

  Shamon’s gaze moved slowly over her face, and his caressing fingers suddenly shackled her wrists. His voice was deep and low. “Aye, I do care. More than I should, mayhaps.”

  Gabie blinked, not sure how to take this sudden turn of mood. Now neither angry nor teasing, Shamon was scrutinizing her with an attention that made alarm bells go off distantly in her mind.

  Voices came from the stairwell, breaking the spell, and Shamon stepped back just as Paz came bursting into the corridor.

  The skinny youth came skidding to a halt, his surprised gaze going from Gabie to the giant trader.

  “Damn it, Paz!” Misha cursed as she came out of the stairwell and collided with him. “Why the hell—oh.” She looked from Gabie to Shamon, her eyebrows rising in curiosity.

  Alerted to the presence of someone else, Olin appeared cautiously behind Misha. Seeing Shamon, he relaxed and yawned.

  “Evening.” Shamon looked steadily at them all.

  Paz bobbed his head nervously, but Misha eyed Shamon shrewdly. “Evening.”

  Aware she had to get their understanding before something was said that shouldn’t be, Gabie spoke quickly. “Shamon met Emet. I told him he was a friend of ours and once better, Emet would be heading off.”

  “Ah.” Misha nodded.

  Paz just went paler. The boy had no idea how to play calm.

  Olin shuffled past Misha. “How is Emet?”

  “He woke up, groaning and confused.” Gabie inched past Shamon—ye gods, heat came off his very body!—and moved towards Olin. “I put the sedation patch on him. He’s running a temperature. Burning up.”

  Olin picked up his pace. “I’ll attend to him. Paz.”

  Paz took off after the older man in blatant relief.

  Gabie rolled her eyes.

  Misha still had that shrewd look in her eyes. “He’s... all right?” Meaning, was Gabie all right?

  “Fine.” As soon as I get my trembling knees under control and my heart beat back to normal. Catching Shamon by one lapel of his sleeveless vest which hung open, Gabie started towards the stairwell. “I’ll see you out.” Fast.

  Gabie was almost surprised when Shamon followed her. She’d half expected him to pull back. She was more than aware of Misha turning to watch as they disappeared through the door into the stairwell.

  Silence descended as Gabie and Shamon went down the stairwell. She released his lapel and moved quickly, but he kept one stair above her, his long legs taking the stairs easily.

  In the cargo hold, Gabie silently stepped to one side to allow him to pass.

  Shamon stopped beside her instead, and she raised one brow in query as she looked up at him, tipping her head back
as normal to look up his tall length to meet his eyes.

  His expression was anything but reassuring. Those brown eyes missed nothing as he studied her closely and she frowned.

  Unexpectedly, he took hold of her ponytail and gave it a gentle tug. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, lass?”

  “Cripes, no. Whatever gave you that idea?”

  “Mmm.” He looked out at the darkness beyond to the lights of the settlement, and then looked back down at her again. Lowering his head, he kept her imprisoned by the gentle yet firm hold on her ponytail. Brushing his lips lightly across hers, he said softly, “’Tisn’t finished between us, Gabie. I’m going to claim my prize.”

  “Prize?” Ye gods, she could hardly think when he was playing such havoc with her senses.

  “You.” Releasing her suddenly he strode through the cargo hold and down the ramp. Stopping briefly at the bottom, he looked straight back at her. “Tomorrow night, Gabie. As soon as night falls. Meet me at the tavern.” His eyes held heat. “You. One night. In my bed.”

  And then he was gone.

  Good God. Heat swamped through her and she felt almost dizzy. One night in that giant’s bed, she was sure, would be... unimaginable. All that strength around and in her... ye gods!

  Puffing out a deep breath, Gabie stared out at the shining lights of the settlement. Could she do it? Could she really do it? Spend one night in bed with Shamon? If she’d had any notion she’d be caught out cheating, she’d never have made that bet with him. But she had, he’d thought he’d lost, he’d gotten rid of that beard, she’d been found to be cheating, and now he expected her to uphold her end of the bargain.

  Shit.

  There was dampness between her thighs that was for a totally different reason than the dampness that made her palms sticky, she was sure. No, wait, it was for the same reason. No, it wasn’t. One was nerves, the other lust. Almost the same.

  Oh shit.

  Biting her lip, Gabie stared out at the lights. Could she do it? Did she have to? Hell, she’d shoot off into space right now if she could, but having Emet aboard was making her a prisoner. If she left, the peacekeepers somewhere else would search her spaceship. Here she was safe from that for now. Oh yeah, not to mention if she left, Raznin would be after her and she’d be in a real pickle then.

  Cripes, when had life gotten so complicated?

  ~ * ~

  “Are you sure?” The woman looked at him.

  “Absolutely. The Daamen trader just came from the smuggler’s spaceship.”

  She swore, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Letting out a soft breath, she straightened and gazed at the viscomm, but she didn’t see it. In her mind she turned over her ideas, thinking hard. It was time for a new strategy. Things were moving, all right, but unexpected stumbling blocks were appearing.

  The Daamen traders were never supposed to be a part of this.

  “God damn it,” she cursed. “Why the hell can’t those randy bastards keep their noses clean? They always, always, get involved with the wrong wenches.”

  The man grinned. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Shut up. Let me think. Stars, I can feel a headache coming on.”

  Propping one booted foot against the console, she leaned back in the chair and contemplated the ceiling. Things had gotten a little more complicated.

  “We’ll have to move soon,” she murmured.

  “Olin was in the taverns, talking to some unsavoury characters,” he offered.

  “No problem with that, it merely confirms that Gabie is getting edgy.” Linking her fingers on her stomach, she frowned thoughtfully. “And Gabie getting edgy is interesting.” She looked sideways and met the laughing eyes of the man. “Change of plans, Freeman.”

  “I thought you’d say that.”

  “We’re going to pay the peacekeepers a little visit.”

  “What fun.”

  ~ * ~

  Michel was just about to leave the Enforcement Building for the night when the man and the woman strode into his building.

  He took one look at them and a chill went through him. Slowly he lowered his coat back to the desk. “What do you want here?”

  The woman shut the door behind her. The blonde streak in her rich, brown hair stood out, but it was her cobalt blue eyes that looked so steadily at him that made him feel as though she could see every little thing he was thinking.

  The man beside her smiled, his face pleasant, but there was a hint of hardness in the curve of his mouth.

  It was the woman that Michel kept his attention on. This woman was someone you didn’t want turning up in your settlement, because it meant all hell was about to break loose.

  “What’s going on?” he asked again.

  The woman looked at him. “Tell me all about Gabie.”

  Oh God. What had Gabie done this time to warrant the attention of these two and the group they represented?

  Dread filling him, Michel sat down.

  The woman took the chair opposite him and watched him steadily.

  ~ * ~

  The wench needed someone to take her in hand. Shamon rinsed the soap from his hair, closing his eyes against the suds even though it wouldn’t sting his eyes. All he could see, though, was Gabie’s face as she admitted calmly that she had a claimed, wanted outlaw in her possession.

  Sighing, Shamon turned off the water and reached for the towel, drying himself with quick, sure strokes. Getting out of the shower, he hung the towel over the rack, ran a brush through his hair and padded out into his cabin. Naked, he flopped into his bunk and yanked the covers over himself. Flicking off the light, he lay in the darkness staring up at the ceiling. From the corridor beyond came a few snores as his friends settled to sleep.

  He wished he could sleep as soundly as they, but his sleep had been disturbed ever since his thoughts had become preoccupied with a certain little, outrageous smuggler.

  Turning onto his side, he stared at the wall. He wanted her. Badly. But was it just physical? If ’twas, it certainly didn’t explain the fear that had gripped him when he’d realized that Gabie was harbouring an outlaw. The thought of what could happen to her if she was caught... with her history of being a known smuggler though never caught, and the harbouring a wanted, claimed outlaw without notifying the peacekeepers... Christ, she could be arrested.

  Put up for claiming or sent to Cardrak.

  A shiver went straight up his spine at the thought and he rolled on to his other side.

  Cardrak, the prison plant where Liane, Borga’s wife, had been for eleven long years. The ors there that she’d shared memory of the horrors there that she’d shared with Borga and her sister warriors... the thought of Gabie incarcerated behind those walls made the gorge rise into his throat. The little smuggler wouldn’t stand a chance against the hardened criminals inside. Within the day she’d be beaten and raped by men far bigger and stronger than she. Knowing Gabie, she wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut, and therefore her smart comments to herself.

  Gabie, beaten and raped. Bleeding. Unprotected.

  Breathing harshly, Shamon sat up and shook his head, ploughing one hand through his damp hair. God, he couldn’t let that happen to her.

  But she probably wouldn’t make it to Cardrak. First, she’d be put up for auction on the slave block. Anyone could buy her. Outlawed, she’d be up for sale to the highest bidder, and once bought, her new master or mistress could use and abuse her as they wished.

  Any red-blooded male would bid for her, wanting her in his bed. The thought of her luscious little body being abused by someone who didn’t care, who would probably share her with his cronies...

  “Hell.” Swinging out of the bunk, Shamon dragged on his pants and strode from the cabin.

  In the dining cabin, he poured himself a mug of hot una and sat down at the table. Staring at the surface, he sipped from the mug.

  Heddam entered not long after. Pouring a mug of hot drink as well, he went an
d sat opposite Shamon. “Problems, friend?”

  Shamon sighed and looked up at him. “In the form of a certain little wench, aye.”

  “Let me guess. ’Tis two things only—you’re worried sick about her, or she spurned you and you’re broken-hearted.”

  “I am worried sick.”

  “Care to share?”

  “Gabie has a claimed, wounded outlaw onboard.”

  Heddam’s eyes widened.

  “Aye.” Shamon shook his head. “If she’s discovered with him onboard her ship, she’s got a one way ride to Cardrak or the slave tent.”

  “Michel wouldn’t let her go there,” Heddam stated. “He’ll claim her before she even leaves his Enforcement Building.”

  That was true but it didn’t make Shamon feel any better. In fact, it made a nasty little emotion curl through him. His fingers tightened around the mug.

  He’d love to have me for his personal slave. Gabie’s words rang in his mind.

  If she was Michel’s personal slave, he’d have the right to do whatever he wanted with her. Make her work, chain her up, punish her... take her to his bed.

  The mug cracked beneath Shamon’s fingers.

  Heddam raised one brow but didn’t say anything.

  No bloody way was Michel or anyone else getting their hands on Gabie. Just the thought of any other man apart from himself touching Gabie’s naked body, undressing her, holding her in his arms, or discovering the hidden delights of her luscious little body was enough to make him almost foam at the mouth.

  Jealousy. Possessiveness. Right, they were the words for the emotions curling through him at the thought of Gabie with anyone but him.

  He glared at Heddam. “Not Michel, nor any other damned man will claim her.”

  “Of course not,” Heddam returned calmly. “Because you’ll claim her.”

  “Aye.” Shamon squinted at him. “How did you know?”

  “Any fool can see that you’re struck with the lass.” Heddam eyed his friend over the rim of his mug as he sipped at the hot liquid.

  No doubt all his friends knew. They always did. Trading and living in close proximity, many of them having grown up together, just about all the Daamen traders could read each other like open books.

  Sighing, Shamon eased his grip from the mug. Liquid seeped out slowly from the hairline crack and with a muttered curse he got up, poured the una into another mug and tossed the cracked mug into the disposal unit.