“Right after you went in.” The other peacekeeper looked at Gabie. “And it seems you were after this troublemaker.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Gabie replied.
“Of course you don’t.” Stepping back, the peacekeeper gestured with his laser. “Now it’s mighty interesting how you four went in and came out with her. Let’s see what the Head Peacekeeper thinks about it all.”
Which was how Shamon found himself sitting in a cell with Aamun, Kel and Etol, while across from them Gabie leaned against the bars of her cell, looking unworried. She gave him a little wave. She shared her cell with Misha and a couple of tavern whores. As soon as the whores found themselves opposite the Daamen traders, they joined Gabie at the bars, winking and batting their eyelashes at the traders.
Two other cells contained groaning and cursing brawlers.
Shamon knew Gabie was unhurt, he’d made sure of that on their trip in the back of the planet cruiser on the way to the Enforcement Building. Now that he knew she was fine, he was eyeing her with smouldering anger. Gabie and Misha were so unworried and seemed almost... self satisfied. Very satisfied. Misha was whistling between her teeth and Gabie was leaning against the bars and looking like she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Just what the hell was that all about?” Shamon growled at Gabie.
She raised her brows at him. “Honey, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Misha said something, and I know something is going on.”
“Misha says a lot of things.”
“Yep, I sure do,” Misha agreed from where she lay on her back on the narrow bunk. “I say a lot of things. You have to learn to ignore me.”
Shamon narrowed his eyes at Gabie. “Why were you there?”
“Just passing a bit of time.”
“That wench is up to her neck in whatever was happening in that tavern,” Aamun observed from beside Shamon.
“Aye.” Shamon glared warningly at her. “And she’s going to tell me what as soon as we’re out of here. Right, wench?”
“Really, Shamon, you’re so suspicious,” she drawled.
“You’ll have to wait your turn, anyway,” Kel said.
Shamon watched as a peacekeeper strode down the corridor between the cells and stopped directly before Gabie’s. Opening it, he gestured to both Gabie and Misha.
“Oh, favouritism!” One of the whores pouted.
“Hey,” Misha replied. “You’re more than welcome to go first.”
“Just move it,” the peacekeeper ordered.
Shamon watched his wench disappear with her friend and the peacekeeper. The door to the cells slammed shut and raised voices sounded. He couldn’t make out the words, but he recognized the tone and level. Des was out there and she was spitting mad.
He could almost make out the swearing he just knew the air was being peppered with. Aye, he could sympathize with Des because right now he didn’t know what he’d do if he got his hands on Gabie. Spank her or hug her tight. Mayhaps tie her up and toss her in the cargo hold of the trade ship.
The wench was making him old. And fidgety. He paced the cell restlessly as time passed. Worry grew stronger, though he knew she was safe with the security. But he meant to tear a strip off her for putting herself in such danger. Hell, she could have been seriously hurt.
Finally one of the peacekeepers opened the door and came up to the traders’ cell. Opening the door, he stood back. “Des wants to see you lot.”
The traders exchanged glances. Aye, they could just imagine the reception they were going to get, too.
The door to the cell corridor shut behind them as they entered the back office. The peacekeeper left them alone with Des. She was standing by the window, her arms folded under her breasts, a scowl on her pretty face. Eyes so pale a brown as to be almost yellow glared at them.
“You bloody imbeciles!” she swore.
“Now, Des—” Aamun begun soothingly.
“Don’t even start, Aamun.” She stabbed a finger in Shamon’s direction. “It’s you who’s the worry here.”
“Me?” Shamon raised his brows inquiringly, though he knew what was coming.
Striding forward, Des glared up at Shamon. Tall for a wench, she was still shorter than the traders, but she wasn’t one to cower from those bigger than her, as she’d proven in the past. “Listen, you big moron, why the hell did you go into that brawl?”
“Why do you think?” he parried.
“You knew Gabie was in there. How did you know?”
“I saw Paz looking scared enough to wet his pants. I knew if he was running around alone and scared, something was wrong.”
Her eyes raked over him suspiciously. “How’d you know she was in that tavern?”
Shamon shrugged. “Lass, Paz was about to go in there. ’Tis no way that boy would wade into a fight unless he cared for someone.”
“’Tis true.” Aamun nodded. “That merry little lot isn’t known for seeking trouble.”
“Want to bet?” Des was practically breathing fire.
“Physical trouble, I mean.” Aamun couldn’t quite hide his grin.
That only infuriated Des more. She prodded Shamon in the chest with one stiff forefinger. “I’m telling you to back off and leave these happenings to us to sort out, Shamon. No more bloody heroics, do you understand?”
Gently taking her finger, Shamon removed it from his chest. Anger kindled inside him. “I know you’re doing your job, lass, but I’m telling you right now if Gabie is in danger you’re not going to be able to keep me away.”
“You have no idea what is happening, Shamon!”
“I know some, and if Sabra didn’t see fit to fill me in on the rest you can’t hold me responsible for anything that might happen.”
“Oh, do you want a bet? I’ll sling your arse in a cell, Shamon!”
“Mayhaps you’d have to declare me outlaw, lass, because I’ll not back down if Gabie is in trouble.” He looked grimly down at her.
Eleven
“Goddamn interfering traders!” Des cursed. “I should just detain you for questioning!”
“Waste of your time, considering I know no more than what Sabra has told me,” Shamon replied reasonably. “And don’t you think whoever is watching Gabie might find it odd that security has detained us right after we saved Gabie?”
He could just about hear Des grinding her teeth. “They don’t know security is involved.”
“But they know the law dragged us in here. They know I’ve spoken to Gabie.” Shamon leaned down just a little. “Might be enough to get a bit of suspicion going, Des.”
“I oughta kick your arse!” Des’s temper was almost at boiling point. “I’m telling you, Shamon, keep your bloody nose clean! Do you hear me?”
Satisfaction filled Shamon. Des had nothing to go on and they both knew it. “I hear you, lass.” So could the rest of the building, he was sure.
Cursing, Des kicked a nearby chair. “If I see you even sniffing around Gabie, I’ll be after you, Shamon!”
He couldn’t help but say, “Too late. I’ve done more than sniff.”
“You get hurt during this, Shamon, and I’ll kick your arse black and blue!”
In her own way, the fiery wench cared for her friends. Shamon smiled slowly.
“Out!” She flung open the door. “Now!”
The traders filed past her. In the main office Simon was leaning calmly against the wall.
Shamon came to a stop beside him. “Simon, I’m sorry your evening has been... ah... disturbed.”
“’Tis what you call it?” Simon drawled. “Now my wench is in a foul mood.”
And ’twas only Simon’s kindness that had made coming here in the trade ship possible. “Simon, really, I am so sorry—”
“Ah, friend, trust me, when it comes to the wenches we love we’ll face down anything.” Smiling, Simon clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll calm my little wife down and sweeten her mood again.”
“But
it shouldn’t have affected you—”
“Trust me, the problems don’t affect me except for making Des fiery again. And you know, sweetening her up is my speciality.” Simon winked. “’Tis always a challenge... and I always win.”
Shamon couldn’t help but grin.
“And if I don’t sweeten her up, well then, things get really interesting.” Simon’s eyes twinkled as he looked past Shamon to the other door which was opening. “The fiery security officer can be really intriguing in bed.”
Des stormed out of the back room into the office, took one look at the traders and snarled, “What the hell are you all still doing here? Didn’t I tell you all to get lost?”
“Just waiting for you, sweetheart,” Simon said mildly.
“I meant them, not you.” Des glared at Shamon. “Out!”
Simon winked at Shamon.
Shamon sent Des a little smile and nod, which she simply glared at in turn, and he left the Enforcement Building with Aamun, Etol and Kel.
“Whoo, that Des does get furious,” Etol observed. “I thought for sure she was going to make good on her threat with you, Shamon.”
“And she probably would have, but she knows I was right when it came to too many people having seen the peacekeepers take us all away. Sooner or later word would get around that she’d detained one of us, and things would have gotten very suspicious.” Shamon rolled his shoulders. “The wench is no fool.”
“You know she’s going to tell Sabra everything,” Aamun said. “You’re going to have her after your hide as well.”
“Aye, I know.” Shamon glanced up and down the street. Everything had returned to normal. “And in turn I’m after Gabie’s hide. She started that fight and I want to know why. Silly chit could have gotten herself killed.”
“Life is so interesting when love hits,” Kel said, and chuckled.
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Etol agreed.
Shamon rolled his eyes and started towards the docking bay. His anger had cooled a little but he still wanted answers. Just the thought of what could have happened to Gabie in the tavern was enough to make him shudder. He never wanted to see that again. But knowing Gabie, things just might get worse. Knowing security, it wasn’t going to be smooth and without danger.
Damn it all. First things first, and that was getting answers from a certain infuriating wench.
Aamun, Etol and Kel left him in the docking bay, veering away to the trade ship after laughingly giving him some pretty useless advice.
Shamon continued on to the Larceny. The cargo area was in darkness but he knew Gabie was there. He could practically feel her. As he drew closer, he spotted her in the shadows. She was sitting on the ramp, her feet swinging lazily.
“Hey, honey,” she drawled.
Stopping directly in front of her, Shamon reached up and wrapped one hand around the heavy iron arm supporting the ramp. Her knees brushed his pants legs. Sitting on the ramp put her just below eye level. In silence he studied her, the lights from the docking bay enabling him to make out her gamine features in the dimness.
She gave him a sweet smile. He didn’t know whether to laugh or yell or simply sigh in frustration. But there was something else he wanted to do, ached to do.
He kissed her. It was a simple matter to close the distance between them, a simple leaning forward and lightly pressing his lips to hers.
It was meant to be a light kiss, but they’d been apart for too long. He’d been too worried. He’d wanted her close, with him, where he knew she was safe. He’d been scared for her.
Instead of being gentle, his kiss was hard, taking possession of her lips, demanding everything, and she gave it willingly. Swaying forwards, she braced her hand on his chest, only to gasp into his mouth and pull back with a small curse.
Shamon opened his eyes to see her shaking her hand gingerly. The hand that had diverted the bottle aimed at his head.
In the tavern.
In the brawl.
Which she had started.
There went the urge to laugh. Now he knew he wanted to yell. Except he wasn’t the yelling kind, but he could sure do intimidating really well when he tried.
But first, he caught her wrist, carefully angling her hand so he could study it in the dimness.
“It’s all right,” Gabie said a touch breathlessly. “Just a bit of bruising.”
“’Twouldn’t have happened if you’d not been there.” Giving her palm a light brush of his lips, Shamon released her hand, reached up and braced both hands around the heavy iron arm supporting the ramp. Leaning forward, he looked down at her and growled, “Why the hell did you start the brawl?”
“Oh, I didn’t,” Gabie replied earnestly.
“Oh, you did. Misha said so. Right after we saved your delightful little body.”
“Misha has no idea what she says sometimes.”
Shamon leaned closer.
“I think it has something to do with that mohawk of hers,” Gabie added. “It parts her brain in the centre, and not always evenly.”
The muscles in his arms flexed and hardened with his weight when he shifted a fraction.
Far from being intimidated, Gabie merely looked impressed. Reaching up, she traced one massively bunched bicep with a fingertip and he felt the light touch right through to the soles of his feet.
Ignoring the touch—or trying to—Shamon focused on the problem. That problem being Gabie. “Why did you start the fight?”
“I didn’t.” Sliding her finger up his arm, she traced it across his vest to the opening, then laid her hand flat on his chest, her palm shaping the hard lines of his pectorals. “Honestly.”
The little witch was seeking to divert him. It was almost working. Heat was snaking through his veins at just her teasing touch. He blinked away the little fog of desire that was starting to curl through his senses.
Capturing her hand, he slid his fingers up to her wrist and clamped a light but firm hold around it. “Don’t lie to me, Gabie.”
She gave an experimental little tug but when he didn’t let go, she sighed. “Shamon, I was caught in the tavern when that brawl broke out—”
“Don’t.”
Blowing out a puff of air, she eyed him.
He pinned her with a narrow-eyed look.
“All right.” She shrugged. “Fine. I can’t tell you.”
“’Tis so? I beg to differ.”
“Beg all you want.” With a little toss of her head, she sent the perky ponytail dancing across her shoulders. “It’ll make no difference.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. I mean, what are you going to do? Beat it out of me?”
“Mayhaps I should.” Annoyance hardened his voice.
She laughed outright. “You couldn’t beat me. It’s not in you.”
“I could give you a damned good spa—”
“Oh, don’t start with empty threats, honey.” Reaching up, she patted him on the cheek and smiled widely. “You couldn’t hurt a fly.”
Damn it! Frustrated, Shamon glared down at her. Men ran from a Daamen when one was furious. The traders were known as charming, happy-go-lucky giants, but no one messed with them if they were angry, and if a Daamen was angry at a certain person, that person sought hiding, or blurted out everything they knew.
Gabie just laughed. Damn it, she should have been in tears, not that he wanted her in tears, but he did want her to tell him everything. She wasn’t intimidated by him, didn’t fear him, and was blatantly laughing at his threats.
Stars, he could admire her if he wasn’t so damned... worried about her.
And ’twasn’t in him to be furious, to be angry. His nature was amongst the most easy-going of the crew. He laughed, he teased, and he enjoyed life.
This one little wench was making him almost chew steel nails, she got him in so many knots. And this latest stunt had made him so worried he was actually trying to intimidate her into confession.
Like that worked. Nay.
“Damn it, Gabie.”
“Oh come on, Shamon. You’re made for loving, not arguing.” She winked up at him.
“You’re not in the clear, wench.” Releasing her wrist, he caught her chin in a firm but gentle hold and titled her head back. “You risked your safety pulling a stupid stunt for some unknown reason and if you ever do it again, I swear, right now, it will be damned uncomfortable to sit down.”
“But would you kiss it all better after?” Her eyes gleamed in the dimness. “It’d be worth it for that alone.”
She was going to drive him stark raving mad, he just knew it.
“He’s gone!” Paz burst out of the door between the cargo hold and the ship. “They got away! The diversion worked—” He stumbled to a halt, his widening eyes taking in Shamon’s forbidding expression. “Uh...”
“Who is gone?” Shamon asked quietly.
“No one,” was Gabie’s immediate answer. “Paz, you’ve been drinking too much berry juice again.”
“Who... is... gone?” Shamon asked again.
Oh aye, Gabie mightn’t scare, but Paz was a bundle of nerves. He took one look at Shamon’s face and went white.
“Go inside, Paz,” Gabie said sharply.
“Stay right there,” Shamon gritted out.
Paz was frozen to the spot, visibly shaking.
“Damn it, Shamon!” Gabie shoved against his chest. “Leave him alone.”
Oh aye, Paz was the weak link right now. His fear made whites appear around his irises. Gabie might be one tough nut to crack, but Paz would shatter and tell him everything.
Intimidation would work on the skinny youth.
In one smooth motion, Shamon placed one booted foot beside Gabie’s hip on the ramp and he heaved himself up effortlessly, ducking under the heavy iron arm. Straightening, he glared down at Paz. Towering over him.
“Who is gone?” he repeated.
“I just... he... I can’t...” Paz was shaking.
Shamon felt sorry for him. The lad was just that... a lad. And trying to be loyal to Gabie. Which meant Gabie was Paz’s weak link.
Life was good when you found the chinks for which you were searching.
Gabie came pounding up the ramp, placing herself in front of Paz. Glaring up at Shamon, she said grimly, “Leave him alone!”
Heart of a Smuggler Page 26