“Looks like it’s now official.” Gabie tossed the paper onto the table. “Emet’s a murderer. Might be time to inform him of it. Misha, your job.”
Misha’s face hardened as she tapped a corner of the sheet. “I don’t believe it.”
“Cripes, do you think I’d send you in there if I believed it?”
“So what are we going to do about it?” Olin wanted to know.
“Bugger all right now,” Gabie retorted. “No one knows he’s on board and he’s the least of my concerns.”
“Besides, he still isn’t well,” Misha interjected. “He shouldn’t leave.”
Gabie looked at her. Olin leered. Paz sighed.
“Well, well.” Gabie leaned forward. “You’re becoming quite the voice for Emet, aren’t you?”
“I’m just saying he’s not the kind to do something like that.”
“We’d already established that.” Gabie stroked her chin assessingly, a familiar sparkle of amusement rising inside her. “How much time have you spent with Emet, honey?”
“Not long—”
“Most nights,” Olin intoned. “Parts of the days. She even feeds him.”
“She even wipes his face and chest for him,” Paz added seriously.
“Really.” How interesting. Gabie eyed Misha.
“The man is sick.” Misha scowled. “I know what you’re all thinking, you sick lot of toadies.”
“Geez, harsh words.” Gabie grinned. “Maybe you know what we’re thinking because you’ve been thinking the same thing?” She looked at Olin. “Do you think she’s been thinking the same thing?”
“Oh yeah. I think she’s been thinking the same thing. Do you think she’s been thinking the same thing, Paz?”
“I think so.”
“Up the lot of you.” Disgruntled, Misha folded her arms and scowled at the far wall.
In the silence, Gabie rolled the glass between her palms. There were other things to worry about as well.
“Right,” she finally said. “Those people can’t be let out of the cabins.”
Olin nodded.
“Do we let security know we have them?” Paz asked.
“They’ll know already, and they’re contacting us tonight.” Gabie rubbed her fingers across the condensation on the glass. “We leave them in their cabins. They have toilets in there, showers, and can share the bunks.”
“We have to share,” Olin said gloomily.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa in here,” Paz offered immediately.
“Good boy.” Olin stretched, his joints creaking. “An old man needs a good bed.”
Misha rolled her eyes and Paz grinned faintly.
“We say nothing to these people until we know what Sabra wants them to know,” Gabie continued. “So we feed them and treat them nice, but don’t give them any chance to do anything stupid. So no opening doors until it’s mealtime, and another of us stands on guard. Got it?”
They all nodded.
“That’s it, then.” Gabie yawned and rubbed her face with both hands. “What a day!”
“Gets even better,” Paz said.
“Huh?”
“There’s a message from Illona on the viscomm.”
“Illona?” Gabie peered at Paz from between her fingers.
“Said someone else was trying to contact you.”
“Stars, we are popular. Who?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Might as well get this over with, too.” Standing, Gabie stretched and heard a joint pop. “Cripes, not only going grey, but bodily aging fast, too.”
“Might need another night in the bed with Shamon,” Misha said blandly.
Gabie frowned at her.
Misha’s eyes widened.
Oops. She should have made a smart comment or laughed instead.
To give her credit, Misha didn’t say anything. Nor did Olin, who was watching her from the corner of his eye. Only Paz was totally oblivious to what was being said... or not said.
Gabie left the dining cabin fast. Wheeling into the control cabin, she sat in the chair and tuned into the space pirate’s frequency. Within seconds the big, busty blonde was looking at her.
Hard.
“What’s wrong?” Gabie queried. “Did Brucie catch on that we set it up with you?”
“No. But a certain Daamen trader is trying to get in touch with you.” Illona studied her closely.
“Shamon?”
“Yeah. Lover boy. He seemed a little upset about something.” Illona leaned forward and her voice was soft but cold. “You do something to upset him, Gabie?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Unless it was because she’d left his bed and taken off without saying goodbye.
A little pang hit her heart. Bugger.
“You better contact him.” Illona drew a deep breath. “And take warning, Gabie.”
“Huh?”
“I like Shamon. He’s my friend. You hurt him, I’ll nail your fat arse to the wall. You got me?”
“Cripes, Illona!” Gabie was taken aback. “I wouldn’t hurt him!”
“There’s a certain way to hurt a Daamen trader, Gabie. You better not hurt him that way.”
“And what way is that?”
“Don’t love him and leave him. You got me?”
Gabie stared at her.
Illona cracked her knuckles menacingly. “That big hunk cares for you, Gabie. A lot. You break his heart, I’ll break your head. You understand?”
“You’d have to get in line then.” Gabie was gob smacked, but she wasn’t about to take another threat lying low. “And what makes you think he cares for me in that way?”
“I know these traders. I know them well, how they think, how they act. I know Shamon’s got feelings for you. You crush them, I’ll crush you.”
“Geez. Thanks.” She took a deep, fortifying breath. “It’s not my intention to hurt him.”
“Then what is your intention?”
And wasn’t that the question of the year?
“I thought so.” Illona sat back and pulled on a finger, popping a joint and making Gabie wince. “You think about your relationship with that trader, Gabie. You think hard where you’re going and what you’re doing, and you think about that trader. Understand?”
“You want me to think about the trader.”
Another joint popped. “Don’t make a funny with me. When it comes to my friends, I don’t make funnies at inappropriate times.”
“Right.”
“So you contact that trader and you treat him nice. You figure out what you’re doing and you treat him nice. Now what are you going to do?”
“Treat him nice?”
Illona’s grin was all teeth.
Sheesh.
“I’ve sent you the frequency to Shamon’s ship. Just key in Traders. I’ll be in touch.” The viscomm snapped off and Illona’s face disappeared.
Great. Just great. Gabie dropped her forehead onto the console. Sabra, Raznin and now Illona. Everyone wanted a piece of her hide if she didn’t do things their way.
Well, maybe she was tired of being controlled. Tired of being told what to do. However, like a vagrat in a trap, she was... trapped. Wasn’t life just grand?
“Anyway,” she mumbled. “Shamon doesn’t think my arse is fat.”
With a sigh she lifted her head and started to key in the frequency to the Daamen trade ship, only to stop, her finger above the keyboard.
Shamon. She hadn’t had time to think properly about him and what had transpired between them. Probably because she’d expected to be sharing the next few days with him.
Slut that she was, she admitted she was hot for another taste of him.
Or had been, until Sabra had taken care of any free time she had left. Damn it.
Biting her lip, she thought about what Illona had said. He really had feelings for her? A warm trickle went through her. Wow. To think a man like Shamon, a roguishly handsome giant, actually cared for her...
Or did he? Just bec
ause Illona said so didn’t mean it was true. It wouldn’t be the first time that pirate had lied through her eye-teeth to get what she wanted. Hell, she was a space pirate, everyone knew they had no scruples.
But how did she herself feel about Shamon? Folding her arms, Gabie eyed the viscomm screen. He was gentler than she’d though he’d be. He’d surprised her, pushing his prize claiming right up until the last second, then actually giving her a chance to back out. He’d have let her go if she’d indicated it as her wish.
That alone meant a lot to her. That and the fact that he’d been so gentle with her... well, at least until she’d ordered him to... Gabie grinned. Oh yeah. Just the memory had her nipples peaking.
Shifting in the chair, she shook her head. Right, Shamon was nice. Nicer. Nice didn’t quite describe him. Nice described Olin, but she sure as heck didn’t feel the same way about Olin as she did about Shamon.
Shamon made her laugh and spiked her mischief. Just about anything made her laugh, but somehow with Shamon it was more... intimate.
Blowing out a deep breath, Gabie squared her shoulders. It was a puzzle she’d look at later. Right now she had other things occupying her mind, such as being bait.
Switching onto the frequency, she found herself looking into Simon’s thoughtful eyes as he glanced up from whatever he was studying on the control console.
He didn’t look surprised to see her, but smiled and nodded. “Gabie.”
Cripes. Did he know? He must know. Probably the whole Daamen crew knew that her cheating had been discovered and she’d ended up spending the night in Shamon’s bed. It took all Gabie’s determination not to blush.
“Simon.” She nodded back. “I heard that Shamon’s been trying to contact me?”
“He certainly has, lass. I’ll just get him for you.”
While he was gone, Gabie looked at the portion of control cabin that the viscomm showed, noting the big chairs. Big chairs for big frames. Everything was neat and tidy. Not even a poster on the wall. It could certainly do with some decorating. A bit of colour, a few jokes pinned on the walls. Instead, it was functional. Pure function.
Gabie used her control cabin for games, chatting to friends, pretty much anything to do with computers and communication, and so did her crew. The control cabin was as much part of home as the rest of the ship.
Deep voices sounded, the sound of big boot treads drawing nearer, but she couldn’t see the doorway of the traders control cabin. There was a flash of a brawny arm and muscle ribbed abdomen, and then Shamon sat down and looked her directly in the eyes. His hair was tied back haphazardly, one long lock of hair hanging over one massive shoulder.
Relief and strain combined in his brown eyes. “Gabs. Are you all right?”
“Fine.” If you didn’t count being torn in two by security and big-wig smugglers.
She could feel heat climb into her cheeks at the memory of that roguishly handsome face above her, the desire darkening his features as he surged into her. Hoo boy. Mentally she fanned herself. Be still my pounding heart.
“Gabie, that man you have on board. Emet.”
Uh-oh. News travelled fast. “Shamon, I know what you’re going to say—”
“He’s a murderer. You have to get rid of him, notify the peacekeepers.”
Alarm shot through Gabie. “You didn’t do that, did you?”
“Of course not. You being found with a murderer onboard would cause you serious problems, especially being a smuggler.” Shamon grimaced. “I know Emet isn’t an immediate threat to you. I saw how sick he was. But you need to ditch him somewhere and call the peacekeepers to get him.”
“Now, Shamon, I don’t happen to believe he is a murderer.”
“His face is plastered all over the wanted images!”
“True, but that doesn’t mean I need to believe it.”
Shamon’s lips tightened. “You could be in serious danger.”
“We chatted to Emet when we found him. I happen to believe his story. He’s been set-up, Shamon.”
“You can’t know for sure.”
“I know that he was injured and running long before that wanted image came out. Now don’t you find it odd that his master didn’t report him for murder almost immediately?”
“I don’t know what to think. All I know is you could be in serious danger and I’m not there to protect you.”
Whoa. Gabie blinked. “What?”
“You and your crew are alone with that man,” Shamon said. “Turn back. I’ll give you the co-ordinates to our ship and you can off-load him here. And I can make certain you’re all right.”
Cripes. Gabie regarded Shamon with new eyes. Was Illona correct after all? Shamon,” she began carefully. “Why are you so worried? You got what you won. I—”
Shamon’s eyes flashed. “Last night was more than a prize claiming, Gabie.”
“It was?” Her heart fluttered.
“Aye. I intend to see you again, and soon.”
A warm flush went through Gabie. “Well, nothing like being direct, is there?”
“I’m a direct kind of man,” he returned, his face relaxing. “I don’t see any point wasting time.”
This was new territory and Gabie felt like she could fall flat on her face at any second. A handsome hunk like Shamon openly declaring he intended to see her again soon. Who’d have thought it?
“And nay, ’tisn’t just for sex, though ’twas mind-blowing.” His grin was cocky and roguish all at once.
“No?” Her heart was thudding all over the inside of her chest.
“I want us to spend time together, get to know each other more.” Leaning forward, he studied her face.
Even though there were a million miles or more and two viscomms between them, Gabie could almost swear he was right in front of her in the flesh, she felt that weak-kneed.
“Uh—” She gathered her scattered thoughts and asked the only logical thing she could think of. “Shamon, how could that possibly work?”
“Distance is a minor detail.” Shamon shrugged. “We’ll check our schedules and make a time and place to meet.”
“You call that minor?” She laughed. “Trader, we don’t often cross paths, how the heck do you think we will now?”
“Because before we didn’t know when the other was in the vicinity. We could have passed within hours of each other, within mere miles.” Shamon was totally unconcerned and totally confident. “And now we have this relationship, we can make time to see each other, to know each other’s movements.”
Gabie’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “Relationship?”
“Aye.” His regard was steady and completely open. “After spending time with you, Gabs, I want to go further.”
“Further?” She nearly choked. “Don’t you think what happened last night was... far?”
His smile was a tinge carnal. “It can go further.”
Now she did fan herself with her hand. Ye gods, the man had a silver tongue in more ways than one. Though she had to admit, he intrigued her.
And face it, she’d never been so caught up in a man that she’d given him her virginity, yet last night she’d done just that. No regrets. And yes, if she was honest, she’d love to jump his bones again. And again. And heck, why not again? And consider again...
“You’re looking a little hot there, lass.” His voice had dropped, deepened even more, had a hint of smoky sensuality about it.
She sought to reason once more with him. “You’re a legit trader, Shamon, and I’m into private enterprise. How is that going to work?”
They looked at each other and the seconds lengthened into a full minute.
Then Shamon stated quietly, “While we’re seeing each other ’tis naught can be done, but when it goes further we will talk about it.”
“Goes further?” Gabie blinked, shock coursing through her. “Shamon, you can’t possibly mean—”
“One step at a time, lass.” Shamon smiled. “No sense creating problems before we’ve
even begun.”
Oh, and she had huge problems, she just remembered.
“So send me your schedule,” Shamon said. “And I’ll see where our paths cross, and then we can work out meeting times.”
Gabie’s eyebrows arched. “Geez, you are bossy. I never realized that before. Good thing that comes out now.”
“’Tis a few things that will come out about both of us, Gabs.” His smile turned hot. “Some already has. I never guessed what a delightful little bundle you are in bed.”
Gabie went bright red.
Shamon laughed softly. “I’m looking forward to furthering our relationship, lass.”
“Hang on, hang on!” Gabie held up one hand, not sure if it was panic or desire warring inside her. “I never said I agreed to a relationship!”
“And you never said you didn’t. You did, however, throw forward some very valid questions which we’ve answered.” Shamon rubbed his nose with one finger, a twinkle in his eyes. “So send those schedules as soon as possible.”
“You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Gabie folded her arms, half laughing, half annoyed.
“I’m always sure when I know what I want.”
And he wanted her. If he kept looking at her like that she’d need a cold shower. She could almost feel the steam sizzling up from the seat she sat on.
“Meanwhile.” Seriousness chased the humour from his face. “You need to do something about Emet.”
More than happy to push the disturbing thought of a relationship—which she certainly hadn’t agreed to—aside, Gabie focused on the new subject. “I told you I believe his version, and that was that he didn’t murder anyone.”
“You could be seriously hurt. How do you know you can trust him?”
“Because I’ve met some shady characters before, and I know when they’re feeding me snarch crap. My gut tells me Emet is innocent.”
“Then if he is innocent he needs to talk to the peacekeepers.”
“He has no proof.”
“So what are you going to do to get that proof?”
“Now, I never thought of that.”
The glint in Shamon’s eyes certainly wasn’t humour.
The stubborn man wasn’t going to let the subject go. Fine. Time to draw out the big guns. “I believe him. He’s sick and can’t look after himself. We’ll get him better and then he can choose what he wants to do. End of story.”
Heart of a Smuggler Page 20