"Ah.” Aamun looked at Shamon, who whistled.
"I don't believe it,” Shamon said. “You ate breakfast with the little peacekeeper and lived to tell the tale?"
"'Twas most enjoyable,” Simon replied calmly.
"I am in awe.” Shamon shook his head. “Torkra, before you is a wild wench tamer."
"Who says I tamed her?” Simon accepted the mug of ale with a small nod for the tavern wench, who left with a disappointed look when he said nothing further to her. “I like her fine the way she is."
"Ah, spoken like a man in love.” Placing one hand on his chest, Shamon gave a sigh. “'Tis so sweet."
"So.” Aamun took a sip of ale. “You are making headway with The Demon?"
"She's agreed to allow me to spend some time with her.” Simon looked at his friends seriously. “'Tis more than I'd hoped for."
"You never can tell what goes on inside a wench's head,” Torkra said.
"'Tis true,” Shamon agreed solemnly. “They are another species."
Aamun nodded. “I'm wed, and trust me, ‘tis very true."
"Cam reckons he knows exactly what Sabra is thinking.” Catching the eye of a pretty tavern wench, Torkra winked at her, making her giggle.
"Cam and Sabra have old ties.” Simon grinned. “And trust me, I've seen him in knots when he doesn't know what she's up to."
"Mayhap ‘tis best he doesn't know.” Aamun picked up the slice of toast off his plate and took a bite. “So, you're courting the lovely little peacekeeper."
"Courting? Nay. Des hates the thought of courting. Spending time together when we can is her idea of getting to know each other."
"'Tis a good thing,” Aamun nodded. “Courting is all well and nice, but spending time together is much better."
Torkra looked around from his little flirtation with the giggling tavern wench, who was perched on another man's knee. A man who wasn't too happy with the young giant's flirting with her, but wasn't about to call him out on it. “What's the difference between courting and spending time together?"
"Young lads.” Sighing, Aamun shook his head. “You tell him, Simon."
"I'm not the expert,” Simon protested.
"You're the captain."
"What? What's that got to do with it?"
"You're responsible for your crew."
"Not educating them in their love lives!"
"'Tis your love life, actually, that we're discussing."
"I never said we were discussing my love life."
"I'll do it.” Shamon heaved a martyred sigh and turned to Torkra. “Courting is bringing a lass flowers, pretty things, being subtle about the fact that you're lusting after her—"
"Don't you dare come courting my daughters,” Aamun muttered.
Ignoring him, Shamon continued, “Spending time together means not even worrying about being subtle. No pretty words or presents, just a few words then a lust session."
"Suns.” Simon rolled his eyes.
Torkra stared at Shamon for a few seconds, then turned to Aamun. “Right. Now I'd better hear the truth."
They all laughed, but Torkra cast Simon a curious look.
Simon smiled at him. “Torkra, all I know is that the lass doesn't want pretty words and meaningless presents. She wants straight talk, no pretenses, and no false airs. ‘Tis all she wants."
"Isn't that sort of like what happens after you're wed?"
Snorts of laughter from all of them, including Simon, met this naïve statement.
"Stars!” Shamon wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes. “I want to be there when Torkra meets the wench that captures his heart!"
"Hey!” Torkra said indignantly.
"Lad, you're not even twenty yet,” Aamun said kindly. “You've time to learn."
"Thanks for nothing.” Torkra saw the tavern wench get up off the man's knee and wink at him. “Er—excuse me."
"Youthful lust.” Amused, Aamun watched as the young trader met the tavern wench at the bar, and within seconds they were going up the rickety stairs of the tavern to the floor and rooms above.
"Even not-so youthful lust.” Leaning back in the chair, Shamon sighed. “'Tis no spare wenches around to play with!"
"You'll survive.” Aamun suddenly started laughing. “Here's some interesting diversions!"
Simon looked up and grinned. Four Daamen traders had just tromped through the door and were looking around. “Sedam and Carlow and some of their crew!” He waved to them.
Grinning, the traders strode across the room, their boots thudding heavily on the wooden floor. Along the way, they plucked up spare chairs and set them down at Simon's table.
"Simon!” Sedam slapped him on the back. “Friend, I've come to check the rumors!"
"Oh?” Simon had no doubt what his old friend was referring.
"Aye.” Carlow beamed, his roguishly good-looking face filled with merriment. “We just had to see for ourselves."
"'Tis all true,” Shamon informed them happily. “Simon has fallen for The Demon."
"Head Peacekeeper.” Sedam nodded. “Had a run-in with her last year. We ended up in her cells for the night."
"You've met, then.” Simon laughed.
"Oh, aye. We've met the little wench. And now I hear you're chasing her.” Leaning his forearms on the table, Sedam winked. “How's it progressing?"
"He's spending time with her,” Shamon answered.
"Do you mind?” Simon said.
"Not at all.” Shamon turned back to Carlow and Sedam. “He's been looking after her lycats while she was recovering, and this morn he had breakfast with her!"
"Do tell?” Carlow wiggled his eyebrows.
Simon rolled his eyes.
"Went flying to her rescue the other day, carried her to the medic ship, ‘twas all so romantic.” Shamon fluttered his eyelashes. “Now he's courting her.” He glanced at Simon. “Sorry, spending time with her."
"'Tis a difference?” Carlow queried.
"You ignorant man.” Sedam jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. “Of course ‘tis a difference!"
"And I thought young Torkra was ignorant.” Shamon shook his head.
A movement at the door of the tavern caught Simon's attention, and he glanced up to see a man run inside.
The man looked around quickly with a scowl on his face and hurried across to a table where two other men sat. He spoke quickly, and they all bolted up from the table.
"Hello,” Sedam commented. “Interesting."
"Aye, wonder what ‘tis happening?” Aamun pushed his mug back into the middle of the table. “Trouble coming?"
The men in question were hurrying for the back door when it crashed open to reveal Emory holding a laser. “Going somewhere?” he asked mildly.
They swore and spun around, only to come to a halt when Des strode in through the front door, a manblaster balanced nonchalantly on her good shoulder.
Simon's mouth fell open in shock at the sight of her.
"Aye, ‘tis trouble.” Shamon glanced at Simon in concern. “Is she well enough to be working?"
Simon certainly didn't think so, but he was unable to interfere. Damn it. All he could do was watch, and be prepared to help if trouble broke out too much. But if he did interfere, she'd never forgive him. Her job. She'd emphasized that earlier.
"Hands up,” she growled.
"You're not supposed to be up and around!” One of the men snarled, his hands lifting.
"Says who?” She gestured to the other men. “All of you, hands up."
The other man put his hands up, but the third man hesitated, his eyes narrowed.
"Get your bloody hands up or I'll blow a hole right through you!” she snarled. “Trust me, it won't be a hardship, either."
Reluctantly he did as she ordered.
She touched her ear. “Chas, you got the pursuit craft out front? Good. Open the back. We've some garbage to upload."
As Simon watched, she dropped the manblaster into her hands without even a wince. “Emory
, take the lasers off these blokes and let's round them up."
"You really are a demon, aren't you?” The third man sneered. “You're supposed to be badly injured, and here you are, walking around as though not even touched."
Emory divested them of their weapons, careful not to get too near.
"Check them for concealed,” Des ordered.
"Why don't you do it yourself, Demon?” the third man goaded.
"Why don't you shut the hell up before I give you another hole in your face?"
"Maybe you really are hurt, Demon.” His eyes narrowed. “You're not coming too close.” His hands started to lower.
Without blinking an eye, Des shot him in the foot. The blast took a good portion of the floor with it. He went down screaming and yelling, blood spurting from his boot, while his friends leaped back, faces pale.
Striding over to him, Des grabbed him by the shirtfront and lifted him upright. “Don't mess with me, arsehole. I'm not in the mood.” She shoved him at his two friends, who grabbed his arms and managed not to drop him. “Get him to the pursuit craft outside, and move it. I've a lot to do today."
"You shot him in the foot!” One of the men gaped.
"Only part of his foot. The other part is fine.” She jerked her head. “Now are you going to move, or do I give you a little help, like I did your friend?"
They helped him out, his screams and blubbering following him from the room.
Des gave Emory a small grin as she swung around to follow. Her gaze fell on the traders at the tables, her gaze flickering from Simon to Carlow and Sedam and their two traders. A frown creased her brow.
"I think she knows more Daamens are in the settlement,” Shamon murmured.
That was the least of Simon's worry. He studied her, looking for some sign that she was hurting from her injuries. The lass shouldn't have been walking around in her state, taking on outlaws. Not two days before she'd had to have a blood additive. But she looked healthy, nothing like the wench who'd slept so soundly on the sofa just hours ago.
Someone said something to her from beyond the door, and she swung around and strode out of the tavern, Emory at her side. Within seconds, Emory came back in and approached the traders.
"Message from the Head Peacekeeper.” Emory regarded them all closely. “She says she knows there's more Daamens in the settlement, and if there's one hint of a brawl, you'll find yourselves with your arses back in the cells."
"How heartwarming,” said Shamon.
Amusement flashed briefly in Emory's eyes when he looked at Simon, but he didn't smile. “Just passing a message."
"Warning more like,” Simon muttered when he walked away.
Sedam's eyes gleamed. “Aye, you've fallen for a right wench there, friend."
"Aye,” he growled.
"Hmmm, I'm thinking someone ‘tisn't too happy right now."
Simon frowned. “That wench should be resting, not running around tracking down outlaws."
"That wench is a law unto herself.” Carlow chuckled.
More than anything, Simon wanted to track down the wench in question, give her a sound telling off and cart her back to her sickbed. And he just knew that if he tried, he'd find the door slammed in his face.
Des was not one to be told what to do.
But he sure as hell could ask her what she was up to. Only not right now. Now she was in the middle of her work, and he had to wait for an opportune moment. And that had to be tonight, when she was off-duty.
Until then, he had to clench his teeth and wait ... and stew.
Glancing up, he noticed all of his friends watching him with amusement. Shaking his head, he called for another mug of ale.
* * * *
"The prisoners aren't talking?” Des looked at Yucel.
"Adin tried, but they're not talking,” Yucel affirmed. “He said you might have more luck."
"Right. I'll get onto him in a minute."
Going into the adjoining room to replace the manblaster in the locked case, Des caught sight of the small box still sitting on the table. She still had no idea what it was for, or from where it came.
Crossing to the viscomm in the corner, she typed in the military code for the nearest military base, and came up with the Canton Guard.
"Afternoon, Peacekeeper.” The communications officer nodded to her.
"I need some help."
"If we can be of service, certainly."
"I'm going to send a picture of an unknown object to you. I need it identified, as we have no idea what it is."
"Where did it come from?"
"It was found in a blown apart warehouse building. It may have come from the mystery ship."
"Mystery ship?"
The one that's been seen in the vicinity of the settlements that have seen an increase in outlaw activity. The description was sent to you."
The communications officer frowned back at her. “We heard about the increase in activity, but haven't received anything about this ship."
"Yucel sent it yesterday."
"Sorry, Peacekeeper. We've received nothing."
Puzzled, Des leaned back against the table. “I'll have it re-sent."
"I'll be looking for it, as well as the picture of the object in question. Was there anything else?"
"No. Just any information you can give me on this stuff."
The viscomm went blank, and Des strode out into the main office. “Yucel."
The peacekeeper looked up from where he sat at the scanner. “Yes?"
"Did you send the information we had on that mystery ship?"
"Of course."
"The military didn't receive it."
"Impossible. I did send it.” He caught her frown. “Honestly, Boss. I sent it yesterday when you had Chas pass on the message."
"What's impossible is that they didn't receive it."
Yucel's jaw tightened. “Boss—"
"I know. You sent it. Don't get your knickers in a knot."
"The record of being sent is right here.” He brought up the sent records on the screen. “Here."
Peering over his shoulder, Des studied it. The information had been sent, but it had also been interrupted.
"I swear it was going through,” he said. “There was even a confirmed record!"
He tapped the screen beside the sent records, and the confirmation came up.
"How's that bloody possible?” Straightening up, Des scowled. “It can't be sent, stopped and yet confirmed!"
Perplexed, Yucel scratched his head.
They both looked at the screen for several seconds before he said, “Do you think the outlaws have found a way to interfere in our communications with the military?"
"I doubt it. I hope not.” Crossing to the viscomm on her desk, she linked to Sharver and within minutes Adin was scowling back at her.
"What the hell are you doing back on duty?” he barked.
"Doing my job. Have you been in contact with the military at all?"
"No. Why?"
"Because I had the info on the mystery ship sent to the military yesterday, but they didn't receive it, and my records are conflicting."
"Conflicting how?"
"The records show it's been sent, transmission interrupted, yet it's confirmed as well. That's not possible."
"No, it's not possible.” Adin pursed his lips. “Have you had the transmitter checked?"
"Not yet. But even then, Adin, this kind of thing wouldn't happen."
"Normally, no, but with all the crazy things happening, who can tell?"
"You're right. I'll have Yucel go through the whole thing."
"Good. Now what the hell are you doing up?"
Des grinned. “Can't keep a Demon down, you know."
"Damn it, Des—"
"The natives were getting cocky, Adin. Had to shoot one in the foot just to make them see that I was back."
Adin shook his head.
"Anyway, is there any news from the others?"
"Nothing. All
seems quiet."
"That could be a good or a bad thing.” Des frowned. “Right now, quietness is not a good thing. Whoever is out there could be regrouping and planning."
"I'm thinking of asking the military to do a sweep of the area."
"Not a bad idea."
"I'll get onto it, then. I know they're flying over soon, so a sweep of the area wouldn't be out of their way."
"Good. By the way, Yucel said the prisoners aren't talking?"
"The ones from the attack on you and your men? No. They're clamped tight shut."
Des looked at the clock. “I can come down this afternoon or now if you want."
"Feel free, but I won't be here. I have to go and sort out some complaints on an outlying area, and a couple of my men will be coming with me.” He rubbed his chin. “Bloody in-breeding, I tell you."
"Oh yeah. Some places are really nice.” Des drummed her fingers on the table. “When will you be back?"
"Probably late tonight, but as I said, you're welcome to come down and interview them if you want."
"I'd rather see what you collected and do it together. Two heads are always better than one, especially in this instance.” She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “Then I could bring them back here."
"Don't be surprised if the military are interested in them because of this mystery ship."
"Shit. Forgot about that. When are they doing the fly over?"
"Tomorrow night."
"Then they'll undoubtedly want to collect the prisoners on their way. Or send another craft to pick them up. Right. Tell you what, I'll come tonight."
Adin frowned. “Are you well enough?"
"Of course I am."
"Des, you're overdoing it on your first day out of the clinic."
"I get enough of this from the men.” She folded her arms. “I'll be at your Enforcer Building by ten o'clock tonight. Unless, of course, it's getting too late for you?"
"Don't you worry, I can take it."
Des grinned.
"Just be there in good condition,” Adin warned her. “Or I'm telling ... Simon."
That wiped the grin off her face. “What the hell—"
"See you tonight.” Grinning, he cut communications.
Of course he knew that Simon was interested in her. Every peacekeeper within range and listening to the battle she and her men had been in, would have heard Simon's words to her.
Damn.
Well, there was no help for it now. She'd have to put up with the teasing—at least until the traders left the settlement. Once Simon had left, the teasing would fade.
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