Closing the lids of the boxes, Olin slid the wall panel shut and locked the bench back into place in front of it. Now it looked like any part of the panelled walls of the cargo hold. No one would guess a compartment was hidden behind it.
Heddam and Olin headed back up the stairwell, leaving Gabie and Shamon to follow. She’d only taken two steps past Shamon when she felt his big hand wrap around her upper arm and pull her carefully around to face him.
Shamon didn’t say a word, just simply gathered her gently into his arms and kissed her softly. Soft and sweet and long. A tender kiss that sizzled Gabie right down to the soles of her boots.
With a sigh she swayed into him, relishing the warmth of his body seeping into her as she kissed him back. However, when she sought to deepen it he lifted his mouth from hers.
“Nay, lass.”
“What’s wrong?” Puzzled, she looked up at him.
“You were hurt.” That big palm rubbed lightly up her back, and his eyes darkened with a mixture of fury and remorse.
“I’m fine, Shamon. Cripes, I’ve had a whack before—”
“’Twasn’t just a whack, lass.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I saw him punch you in the stomach.” His other hand slid to the front of her to lie gently against her belly. “And slap you.” His lips didn’t quite touch the bruise on her cheek, but his warm breath brushed lightly across her skin. “I was going to kill him, Gabs. I was going to go into that shack and tear that bastard limb from limb.”
Sliding her arms around his waist, Gabie leaned her cheek against his muscled chest and snuggled in against the warm strength. “Don’t fret, Shamon. I didn’t get much more than what you saw.”
“You’re limping a little.”
“Oh. A kick in the shin.” It had hurt like hell. “He fights like a girl. I mean a kick? Sad. Very sad.” And it still hurt when she flexed her foot.
“When we get face-to-face, I’m going to pull his guts right out of his ears.”
Shamon spoke softly but there as a hint of savagery in his voice that surprised Gabie, and tension rode his body. Lifting her head, she glanced up but all she could see was a strong throat and a hard jaw.
“Shamon?”
He didn’t answer but he did finally tilt his head down to look at her. Mingled with the fury in his eyes was pure remorse.
Inquiringly, Gabie raised her brows.
“I should have been there to protect you.” A crack was audible in his deep voice. “’Tis my job to protect you, lass. I saw what happened and was laid low by a blow—”
“Two blows,” she corrected.
“No matter. I should have killed that bastard then and there. For what he did to you, he should be having soil piled on top of him right now.”
The depth of emotion in Shamon’s eyes and face touched Gabie. “You couldn’t know security was going to knock you out. You can’t blame yourself.”
“I do. I—”
“Come on, Shamon,” she chided. “Shit happens, and it happened to you. And me. I’m over it.”
“Are you?” His gaze was probing.
Gabie shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it but go forwards, right? Off-load this cargo like security wants and then find someplace to lie low where no one will bother us.”
“You can just let Tason walk away, just like that?” He frowned. “I can’t and won’t.”
“I never said he’d walk away free. He’s security fodder, remember?” Sliding her hand beneath his vest, Gabie smoothed her palm down his bare back. “Des said she’d make sure he had extra special care.”
“After I get through with him, ’twill be nothing left of him for Des to take care of.”
“Shamon—”
“Nay.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I will get that lowlife scum, lass, and he’ll rue the day he even thought of laying a hand on you.”
What a hero. A stubborn lug, but a hero nonetheless. Mentally shaking her head, Gabie hooked her thumb in the waistband at the back of his pants.
Almost immediately she felt a shift in his body, and it wasn’t just the sudden firming in his pants against her stomach. The tension eased away to be replaced with something else, and the palm rubbing her back slid down to cup one buttock.
Cripes, just his touch could make her smoulder. And when he looked down at her with that heat in his eyes, that desire, it made sparks skitter along her skin.
Shamon leaned down, his lips parted slightly, and she stood up on tip toe to meet him.
“Gabie!” Paz’s yell coming down the stairwell broke the mood.
“The boy.” With a rueful sigh, Shamon released her and stepped back, but his heated gaze stayed locked on her. “But ’twill be later, sweet lass.”
“Not in front of Paz or the others there won’t be.” Trying to school her deliciously rattled thoughts, Gabie watched the door to the stairwell. It was kind of hard to do when her blood was coursing so hotly. Just one kiss from Shamon and she was starting to sizzle.
“I’m not into voyeurism, unless ’tis just me and you.” His vice dropped deeper, lower, and seductive. “I’ll spy on you anytime you want, lass.”
“Cripes.” Squaring her shoulders, Gabie took a deep breath.
“When everyone is asleep, I’ll come to your cabin,” he continued softly as the clattering on the stairwell sounded louder.
She couldn’t stop the grin. “I’m sharing with Misha.”
“The come to my cabin.”
“Your bunk is too small.”
“The laser pit.”
“Two of us won’t fit in there.”
Paz appeared in the doorway, his eyes bright even though he kept his expression miserable as normal.
“We won’t be side-by-side,” Shamon promised huskily.
Cripes. Mentally fanning herself, Gabie limped forward to meet Paz. She felt Shamon’s hot-eyed gaze right through the back of her pants. He was watching her backside. Hoo boy.
Thirteen
Outside the space shield it was dark with pinpricks of light. Emet gazed out, his sister standing beside him. Slipping his arm around Rose, he hugged her in close to his side. He’d never suspected she’d been taken to be sold, and he shuddered at how close a call it had been. Five days ago they’d escaped the settlement in the space ship Gabie had organized for them.
Misha. The pretty albino was in his thoughts a lot. She’d trusted him with only a part of a secret that had the Larceny crew in its grip. He didn’t know the whole secret, only that he was never to mention about Rose being onboard.
Misha and her friends were soft-hearted, so why then did they have other slaves on board? She’d assured him it would turn out all right, that he should take Rose and run for safety, go into hiding. It was better for her and him.
Misha. He thought about her. She was so sweet and funny, with a sarcastic wit that made him smile. He was going to miss her, though... maybe he’d be back soon. He wanted to see her again. Maybe if this was ever over... No, he had to be positive. It would be over. He hoped.
Yes, he would find shelter, a safe place for Rose, but then he had to continue his mission. Find the one he sought, though he was beginning to despair of ever finding her. He didn’t really know how. His mistress hadn’t explained properly to him, she’d been too weak, too strung out on pain killers, her thoughts a mess. But he had a name and he was doing his best. It was just he had to be so careful, there were any number of steps he could take wrong, and then the disc would end up in the wrong hands and all would be lost.
The alarm in the ship started going off, a loud peel ringing through the depths.
Alarmed, he ran from the little dining area into the control cabin, Rose on his heels. Fear filled him as he looked at the scanner. Something big was zeroing in fast.
“Pull up,” a voice demanded over the viscomm. “We are going to board.”
“Who are you?” He looked at the viscomm, but the screen remained dark.
Then his flesh crawled as a skull and cross
bones started to form on the screen.
Space pirates.
“Oh, dear God,” Rose breathed. “Emet!”
Space pirates.
He almost panicked, thoughts milling through his mind. Should he call for help? To do so would be to announce who they were and their coordinates to the law, and to those who hunted him. Not to would result in anything terrible happening to his sister.
Wide-eyed, she looked at him. Tears sparkled and she shivered.
If he sent out a distress call, he would be imprisoned, and Rose, sweet Rose, would face a fate much worse.
He was caught between two evils... and ironically one of them should have been a saving grace.
He could only try to outrun the space pirates.
Mind made up, he flicked on the thrusters and the little ship took off with enough speed to almost make the stars blur.
The space pirates kept pace and were closing in relentlessly.
“Feel like playing?” The voice was amused. “All righty. But we will win in the end, you know. We always do. So, what’s your name?”
Ignoring the taunting voice, Emet concentrated on flight of speed, until finally the space pirate ship started to draw too close.
He had no choices left. Wouldn’t pirates be worse than what could happen to Rose? Frustrated and fearful, he reached for the viscomm, switching frequencies to locate a peacekeeper, or even bounty hunters. Someone. Anyone.
“Emet!” Rose wrung her hands. “What are we going to do? We can’t be caught! We can’t! They’ll get us—”
“The pirates will get us if we don’t call for help,” he returned sharply.
“But what if he hears?” Tears were pouring down Rose’s face. “Maybe we can bargain with the pirates. Maybe we can—”
“They could rape you, Rose! They could kill us both!”
She knew. It was in her eyes, her pale, tear-drenched face. Protectively she laid her hand on her belly even as her mouth worked soundlessly.
Turning back to the viscomm, Emet started desperately to put out a distress call.
“This is the spaceship Blaze. We are under attack from space pirates. I repeat, we are under attack from space pirates. Our coordinates are—”
“Now now,” the voice broke through the frequency. “Don’t start squealing like a baby.”
How had they done that? Somehow they’d blocked the frequency. Desperately he tried other channels, putting out calls wherever he could but getting no reply as each frequency shorted out.
And then it happened. A hideous sound of metal screeching cut him short, and he looked around sharply. In the same instance the ship shuddered, throwing him and Rose to the floor. The ship continued to shudder and the screeching continued to sound, loud even over the pealing alarm.
The he saw it. A big, black, menacing wall of steel obliterated the view of space through the space shield as the big space ship outside scraped across the hull of their little ship. The control console sparked and sizzled as some kind of high frequency shorted the circuits.
Scrambling to his feet, Emet desperately fumbled with the weapons system, turning the laser atop the ship to face the big ship grinding against them. He heard a curious wrenching sound, a whine, and then the ship shook as something struck the side, a harsh grating and then the ship rocked once.
“They’ve boarded.” Fearfully Rose pressed against him as they turned to face the doorway. “They’ve forced the entrance and clamped a boarding tunnel to the opening!”
“Stay behind me.” Teeth clenched, holding a laser in both hands, Emet turned to face the doorway.
From beyond the ship came a calm order. “Take everything. I’m going to have a little chat with the not-so cooperative captain.”
~ * ~
They were landing very soon. Shamon checked over the coordinates.
“I’ve already done them.” Misha frowned at him.
“Just checking, lass.”
“I’ve done them before you came. I know what I’m doing.” She tapped his chest as she walked past him. “The question is, what are you going to do?”
Straightening up from the console, Shamon raised his brows at her. The albino was a sharp-witted wench, pretty and smart. He liked her. In fact, he liked the whole crew more than he thought he would have done.
“Think you can sit tight in here with your big friend and wait for us to return from wherever it is we have to meet our friend?” Sitting in the chair, she swung it back and forth while managing to keep her gaze on him.
Leaning back against the console, he folded his arms. “Aye.”
She grinned.
“I have to,” he growled. And he didn’t like it, but his hands were tied right now. If he dared to pull a stunt that didn’t require his interference, then Des and Sabra would have him off the ship and cooling his heels in a cell before he knew it.
Security was everywhere, ’twould seem, popping their heads up in the most unlikely places. This last stop would no doubt be crawling with security. Hopefully they’d have this mission finished in no time.
But if one hair on Gabie’s head got hurt, he’d tear through every smuggler like they were cotton wool, security or not. Besides, he’d planted the tracker in Gabie’s jacket, slipping it through a small split in the lining. The spilt was near the collar, and the tracker would have worked its way securely to the bottom of the lining by now. He’d know exactly where she was at all times. As long as she kept the jacket on.
“I wish I could watch your face when the time comes,” Misha drawled. “Your pacing should be something to see.”
“I don’t pace.”
“Oh. So you’ve only taken up pacing recently.” She winked. “Could it be because Gabie is so near, yet so far? Hmmm?” She batted her eyelashes at him.
Impudent wench. Shamon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ’Twas true, he and Gabie had been able to spend some time together, but nothing like he’d hoped. There’d been no hanky-panky nor hot and heavy. In fact, apart from some stolen kisses and cuddles in the laser pit, ’twould seem the ship was way too small to find a cozy corner for something carnal. Mindful of her bruises, Shamon wanted somewhere he could love her slow and easy, taking care and time. There wasn’t privacy anywhere on this little ship apart from bathing and sleeping, and as she shared a cabin and his bunk was too small, and she refused to sneak into Heddam’s cabin with Paz around, all Shamon managed was to steal kisses and caresses whenever they found themselves alone. And there wasn’t much alone time.
Lovemaking just wasn’t possible on board ship, and ’twasn’t just the fact that most things said could be heard from one place or another. ’Twas Paz, too. Shamon could understand that Gabie didn’t want to be caught in a compromising situation with young Paz wandering around. She took care of him like a brother, and Shamon personally agreed that Paz didn’t need to see his captain and friend on her back—or against a wall, or anywhere else for that matter—with the big trader on or against her with their pants down. So no lovin’ for Shamon and his little wench. Yet.
Heddam, the twisted bastard, found it hilarious.
Paz’s long, skinny legs took him everywhere as he prowled with restless, youth zeal. Olin seemed to sleep just about everywhere. Shamon had even found him snoozing in the laser pit one day. The man loved to sleep.
Misha, on the other hand, spent a lot of time meditating, which surprised Shamon. She also spent a lot of time with Paz and Heddam, playing computer games with zest and single bloody-mindedness. She was ruthless when it came to games of winning and losing and played with skill.
Gabie... ah, his sweet little Gabs. She laughed, she joked, and she teased. She enjoyed life. Even being on the small spaceship didn’t faze her. There was the ever-present bounce to her step and mischief danced in her eyes. The only time she didn’t laugh was when the slaves were mentioned.
Oh aye, Gabie didn’t like the idea of slaves on her ship. In fact, she refused to go near them. Misha and Paz fed them while Gabie skulke
d in the control cabin. The wench told him if she saw the slaves one more time, she was in danger of setting them free, so she stayed away.
Misha openly called her a coward and Gabie had agreed without a qualm. He had to admire the lass, she didn’t hide her emotions.
The last five days had given him an insight into the crew of the Larceny and both he and Heddam had developed a close friendship with them. Shamon took an interest in Paz, finding him to be both thoughtful and insightful, when he wasn’t being such a miserable sod. Olin was like a sleepy uncle, and Misha an irritating but loveable sister.
Gabie just fried his boots off with lust. At the meal table one night she made him spill his drink by running her foot along the inside of his leg while sitting opposite him and eating her ice cream demurely.
She ran her fingers suggestively over his bottom when she stood so sweetly beside him listening to the others, her hand wandering unseen behind him. But he sure felt where her hands went. Picking her up and carting her away to teach her a lusty lesson was something he wanted to do—badly, achingly wanted to do—but ’twasn’t to be on the ship. But later, when this flight was over, the wench had better be prepared for some wild loving. He had a whole bunch of lust built up just for her.
The wench in his thoughts chose that minute to come bouncing through the doorway. “We just about ready?” She beamed at him, but he didn’t miss that little pink tongue flicking out to lick her bottom lip.
It made him tight. He allowed the heat he felt to flare in his eyes and she laughed knowingly.
Shamon sighed. She would truly be the death of him. If a man could die from carnal overload without release, he was a dead man.
“We land in an hour,” Misha informed her.
“Then I better contact Tason.” Gabie plopped inelegantly down in the spare chair and reached for the viscomm. “Then I better contact their Mightiness the security and inform them of plans.” She glanced at Shamon, that big, cheeky grin curving those luscious lips. “No offence, honey, but take a hike.”
Warmth spread through Shamon. All right, heat, because whenever he thought of Gabie, he always felt warm, but when she was in the same cabin as he, then ’twas heat he felt. Moving to her chair, he spun it around, bent and placed his palms on the armrests and leaned forward.
Heart of a Smuggler Page 31