“Got something to say?” Bright green eyes sparkled up into his. “Don’t like my orders, trader?” She poked him in one big pectoral. “This is what happens when you play on the bad side of the law, honey.”
Both amused and hot at once, he looked her over leisurely before settling in to kiss her long and deep. As always, she was a willing participant and opened willingly to him. Her taste flooded him and he licked deep, wanting her flavour, wanting her in every part of himself. Her lips were so soft, so sweet, and her essence was like hot honey, addictive to his senses.
God, he loved her.
Distantly he heard Misha give a polite cough, but he ignored her as he plundered the carnal depths of Gabie’s mouth.
His staff started to stiffen as longing swept through him, the need to be inside her, to be skin against skin, his staff clasped in her tight sheath. To have her under him, unable to do anything except to take everything he gave to her.
The baser man inside him demanded he simply grab her, toss her over his shoulder and cart her away to his cabin. The more intelligent side of him forced him to lift his mouth from hers, take two deep breaths and straighten up.
“Thank the stars,” Misha said dryly. “I thought I’d have to get a crowbar between you two before it got too heated.”
“I’m in perfect control of myself,” Gabie panted.
God above, she looked like carnal sin in a hedonistic body just made for loving. Her green eyes had darkened with desire, her lips were red from his kiss, her cheeks flushed, and her magnificent bosoms were rising and falling fast with every breath she took.
“I better go,” Shamon managed to say huskily. His lusty nature nearly cried, while his intelligent side congratulated him.
Curse his intelligent side.
Reaching out, Gabie snagged her finger in the waistband of his pants and smiled seductively up at him. “You know, trader,” she said, her voice a low purr, “in a couple of hours this will all be over and you and I can be alone.”
Thank God for that. Shamon couldn’t say a word. Instead he bent, grabbed her chin, kissed her hard and left the cabin fast before he forgot about everyone else in the ship and had his lustful way with her.
Out in the corridor, he leaned back against the wall and sucked in deep breaths, trying to control his raging libido.
Stepping out of the dining cabin, Heddam took one look at him and laughed. “Got a problem, friend?”
As if he didn’t know. Shamon gave him a narrow-eyed look.
Grinning hugely, Heddam took a bite out of the apple in his hand and chewed in amusement.
“One day, Heddam, you sadistic bastard, you will be standing in my place,” Shamon predicted.
“I think Gabie prefers you.”
“Some wench will come along and knock you right out of any common sense you ever had—and you never had much to start with.”
“Oh, I’m hurt.” Heddam took another big bite of apple and chewed with gusto.
“And I’ll be the one standing there and laughing at you.”
“’Tis not very nice of you.”
Shaking his head, Shamon was about to give a scathing retort when he heard Tason’s voice on the viscomm. Holding up his hand to indicate silence, he focused on the voice.
Heddam moved up silently beside him and they stood and listened intently.
“I noticed you’re a slave short,” Tason said tightly.
Shamon glanced at Heddam. A slave short?
“Oh, yeah.” Gabie didn’t sound concerned. “One of the women died.”
Died? Confused, the traders stared at each other.
“How did she die?”
“She was sickening or something. We don’t know. She died during the night and we shot her body out into space an hour ago.”
What? Shamon saw the same startled query in Heddam’s face.
“You shot her out into space? You dumb bitch!”
“Hey, I wasn’t about to have some sick corpse on my ship, spreading stars knew what infection and disease.” Gabie’s reply was sharp. “So I got rid of the body. What’s your problem?”
“You should have told us she was sick earlier!”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you cared. Misha, Tason cares about the slaves. Did you know that?”
“Why no, Gabie, I didn’t know that. I’m touched.”
Shamon gave a silent groan. Could the wenches not keep their badly-timed, witty comments to themselves? Nay, ’twas asking too much. And what the hell was that about a dead slave? There’d been no dead person onboard the ship. The wench better have some answers after this.
“I wouldn’t be so careless of another man’s property, Gabie,” Tason said tightly. “Raznin isn’t happy.”
“Raznin can kiss my arse.”
Shamon almost fell to his knees right then and there. Did the wench have no sense? Wait, nay, she didn’t. He’d listened in on every one of her conversations with the smugglers, and she just had to have a smart answer for everything. Never mind being the death of him, ’twould be the death of her, the silly chit. The wench didn’t just need a protector, she needed a gag, too. Misha was just as bad, so no help there.
“So, where do you want me to drop these slaves of yours?” Gabie asked. “I’m kind of in a hurry. We’re close to the Outlaw Sector so I’m guessing you have customers waiting somewhere? Want me to drop them off at your meeting place?”
“No.” Tason sucked in a harsh breath. “When you reach the planet, go to the Lewd Tavern—”
“Gosh, what an inspiring name for a tavern.”
Shamon was going to shake the wench until her teeth rattled.
Tason ignored her. “You’ll be met by two of my men who will accompany you back to the Larceny to inspect the cargo. If they find everything in order, they’ll give you the coordinates to the drop-off point.”
“Why waste time? You could just give us the coordinates now and we’ll meet you there straight away.”
There was silence.
“Don’t you trust us?” Gabie asked.
The silence continued.
“That’s not nice. I’m hurt. Are you hurt, Misha?”
“I’m deeply hurt.”
“Just do your job,” Tason said grimly.
There was more silence and then Shamon heard movement in the cabin.
“Wow, Tason’s a real ball of laughs today,” Misha observed.
“You can say that again,” Gabie said. “Hello there, security? I’m paging Sabra or Des or whoever the hell I’m supposed to be talking to this wonderful day.”
Shamon and Heddam entered the cabin just in time to hear the irate security guard ask, “You should know your contact by now. Wait there.”
“Oh, like I’m going to go anywhere,” Gabie retorted.
Shamon walked up behind her. “You know ’tis Sabra you talk to this time.”
“Yeah, but it’s such fun to annoy security.”
“Immature, but fun,” Misha added. “Gives us a little something to brighten our day.”
“You two keep annoying Tason and you’re likely to find yourselves shot or worse,” Shamon said grimly.
“There’s something worse than being shot?” Gabie looked at Misha. “Wow.”
“And what,” Shamon continued, “is this about a slave dying?”
“’Tis what I’d like to know.” Sabra sat down in front of the viscomm and she wasn’t happy. In fact, she was furious. “Why did you not inform me of someone being sick?”
“It happened so fast,” Gabie replied. “Geez, did you really want me to keep a sick corpse on board ship?”
“Those slaves are innocent people, Gabie!”
“And one is a dead innocent person. Cripes, you really think Tason would have let us keep a corpse? He’d want to have gotten rid of it straight away. This way the body couldn’t be desecrated.”
“You don’t call being shot into space being desecrated?”
“We said a prayer over it,” Misha said
in a reasonable tone. “Geez, what’s the fuss about?”
Sabra glared at her, then switched her cobalt gaze to Shamon. “You let them do this?”
“I had no idea,” he replied truthfully.
“He was asleep.” Gabie shrugged.
“Shamon, have you counted—no, wait, you can’t. If those people saw you, it would be the end of this. The slaves can’t know we’re onto the smugglers in case they give us away through fear.” Sabra took a deep breath, but a faint spot of anger coloured each graceful cheekbone. “When this is over, Gabie, I’ll be looking for some answers and you better have them.”
“I told you. The slave died and we shot her out into space.”
Sabra jabbed a finger in her direction. “Nay, you didn’t, because if someone onboard had been sick, you’d have been begging me to get them help.”
“Hey, I tried that with a pregnant slave and your answer was, if I remember—no. Hang on—it was ‘nay’.”
“If you let a slave go, I’ll wring your neck myself.”
“Tason knows she died, so what’s the big deal?”
Sabra’s eyes narrowed. “You told him?”
“I sort of thought he’d notice he was one short when he did the head count.”
Sabra looked hard at her. “Was this sick slave who died the pregnant one, by any chance?”
“Of course not.”
The security officer studied her closely, then abruptly raised her hand. “What’s the plan?”
Gabie repeated what Tason had told her, and then waited.
Shamon watched Sabra. She leaned to the side a little then brought a peach into view. Giving it a little polish on her shirt, she took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. Someone out of sight spoke quietly to her and she nodded. She had the peach half finished before she spoke again.
“You’ll do as they say and follow their orders. We’ll be watching you and be close by in case something goes wrong. Say nothing to them about us.”
“Oh, you mean this is all a secret?” Gabie turned wide eyes towards Misha. “It’s a secret. Did you know it was a—”
Shamon covered her mouth with one hand.
“My thanks,” Sabra said dryly.
Gabie pulled his hand down and he twisted hand around to capture her fingers in his. When she glanced up at him, he shook his head a little and smiled slightly.
Amazingly she gave him a small smile back and turned to face the viscomm, her fingers entwined with his.
The actions brought Sabra’s attention to Shamon. “You.”
“Aye?”
“You and Heddam are to stay hidden onboard ship when Tason’s men enter. You don’t show your face or beat them silly, understand? Even if they get a bit rough with the wenches, you stay hidden. You are only to interfere if they look like they’ll get their silly heads shot off. Mind you,” she added in an exasperated mutter, “with the smart-arse mouths they have on them, that could be sooner than they think.”
“We understand,” Heddam said from behind Misha’s chair.
“’Tis your job to ensure lover boy here doesn’t lose the plot if someone hits Gabie,” Sabra stated.
A muscle ticked in Heddam’s jaw. The thought of any wench or child being hit went against the grain of every Daamen trader. “’Tis a tall order, lass—”
“’Twas the agreement,” she replied sharply. “If you go against your instincts and beat the crap out of the men, you’ll destroy the whole mission and kill a lot of people. This mission will fail if you can’t control yourselves. If you think ’tis too tall an order for you, let me know now.”
“And you’ll send a ship to collect us,” Shamon stated bluntly.
“’Twould be too dangerous,” Heddam pointed out.
“I’ll block the scanners and no one will know we board the Larceny,” Sabra said coolly.
“Hey, scanners are illegal.” Misha rested one elbow on the armrest of her chair. “Fancy security having illegal things. I’m shocked.”
Sabra ignored her. “Your word, traders, or you’ll be collected.” She leaned forward. “The lives of you all, including Gabie, rest on your ability to restrain yourselves.”
Shamon squeezed Gabie’s fingers gently. “We gave you our word before, Sabra. You can trust us.”
“I just had to be sure.” Her eyes softened slightly. “I know what you Daamen men are like when it comes to wenches you care about.”
“I would never endanger Gabie, nor the rest of the crew.” ’Twould be hard, but too much hung in the balance. “We will only interfere if they are in danger.”
She nodded. “Fine. Gabie, we have a lock on your ship, so we know when and where you’re going. We won’t be far behind you. Now you need to make sure that you’re wearing your communicator so we can listen to the conversation between you and the smugglers.”
“So I can’t whisper sweet nothings in their ears?” Gabie sighed. “Where has the privacy gone?”
“Listen to Sabra.” Shamon gave her fingers another gentle squeeze. “’Tis your life—the lives of you all—we’re gambling with. We need to be able to hear everything going on.”
“I’m duly chastised.”
Shamon doubted that very much.
“I have the receiver to your communicator and other security officers have the receivers to your crew’s communicators.”
“And I?” Shamon asked suspiciously.
Sabra looked broodingly at him for several long seconds before answering grudgingly. “There’re two spare receivers in Gabie’s container. You just remember your promise, trader.”
He inclined his head. He could have been insulted by her words, but he knew his friend was truly worried, and being forced to cave in to him hadn’t sat easy with her. The mission involved a lot of lives, and those lives depended on Sabra and people obeying her orders.
“So what if things go to hell in a hand basket?” Misha asked. “You know, just in case.”
“That’s my problem, not yours.”
“Gosh, I thought having my arse in a sling was my problem. My mistake.”
“Just do what you’re told and keep your head down.”
“Not run like a rabbit? Cause we can run. We’re good at that.”
“Just obey their orders.” Sabra shot Gabie a hard glance. “Got that? We’ll know exactly what is happening and what to do.”
“What if Tason orders us to do something nasty? Then what?”
“Trust me. We’ll guide you if the need arises. ’Tis all you have to do.”
“Oh, that’s comforting. I mean, the reason why we’re now facing down a shipload of ruthless smugglers—slavers—whatever the hell they are, is because we had to do what you said. What’s not to trust?”
“Another word of advice,” Sabra said. “Keep your smart comments to yourself when you’re facing down the slavers. Your mouth will get you killed one day.”
“Cripes.”
Sabra gave a faint smile. “I’ll be seeing you.”
The viscomm went blank. Gabie swung her chair around and looked at Misha.
Shamon watched the silent way they looked at each other. They didn’t even have to talk, it was as though they were reading each other’s mind. Wondering what harebrained scheme they might be hatching, he glanced worriedly at Heddam, who was looking uncertain.
“I still say we run like rabbits,” Misha finally said.
“I agree totally.” Gabie nodded. “Maybe we can save that as our back-up plan in case everything does go to hell in a hand basket and we’re right in the middle of said basket.”
“Good plan.”
“I can’t take the credit. It was all your plan.”
“Why, thank you.”
Shamon heaved a silent sigh of relief. Nay, no worries about grand schemes with these two.
Misha pushed upright. “Well, I’m going to ensure we all have our communicators ready to put on before we land, and to inform Paz and Olin of the plans.”
“I’ll come with you, lass.”
Heddam gave Shamon a small wink and left the cabin.
Gabie stood up, turned and looked directly up into Shamon’s eyes. He was taken aback to see shadows in the brilliant depths.
“Gabs?” He drew her to him.
“You promise me,” she said fiercely. “You promise me you won’t take any stupid chances.”
“Gabie—”
Fisting her hands in his vest, she gave it a small jerk. The worry in her eyes surprised him. “I couldn’t bear it if you got hurt, Shamon. Because of me. Us.”
Soothingly he ran his palms up and down her upper arms. “Lass, I won’t get hurt. ’Tis you I worry about.”
“And it’s that worry that’s the problem.” With a sigh she dropped her forehead against his chest. “Just promise me you won’t go silly, all right?”
Tenderness filled him and he slid one finger beneath her chin, tilting her head back so he could gaze down at her. “Gabs,” he said quietly. “You’re my lass and I’ll guard you with my life—”
“Oh, crap. That’s just what I don’t want—”
“But credit me with enough sense to know when guarding you could mean even more harm. I’m forced to go along with some of this, and I won’t pretend ’tis easy, but Gabs, I’ll not see you hurt too much.” He kissed her gently on her forehead before resting his own against hers and gazed into her eyes. “’Twill almost kill me if you get handled roughly, but I know I endanger us all if I make a move. But if you’re in danger, I’ll be there.”
“I don’t think you should use the communicator.”
“Like hell.”
She sighed, and the sudden sadness in it tore at him.
“You’re a fool to hang around with me, Shamon. I’m no good for you, and now you’re in danger because of me and my life. You should be safe on Daamen or in Simon’s ship, having fun with your friends, not traipsing around after me trying to protect my hide.”
“Your hide belongs to me.” With a small smile he laid his hand on her bottom. “And I’ll be watching out for this hide.”
“Shamon...” She halted, tried again, then sighed and glanced away.
“What?” He encouraged her tenderly. “Speak to me, Gabs. Tell me what troubles you.”
Heart of a Smuggler Page 32