"He was all right a couple of hours ago,” Benel said. “In fact, so was your other friend."
There was silence for a minute, a quiet murmur.
"I don't feel good,” the weak voice was a new one.
"Looks like you might have some spew to clean up soon,” Emory told Benel.
"Hell. Use the bucket if you're gonna vomit, outlaw. Don't mess my floors."
There was still no word from Des, and Simon opened his eyes. What was happening? What she thinking?
"Were they sick when they came in?” Des queried.
"No,” Benel replied. “No injuries, either."
"Hey, you. The one with the singed ear."
The outlaw grunted.
"When you say they've been sick for a while, how long exactly?"
"What's it to you, Demon? I thought you'd just love seeing us spew."
"Trust me, I don't give a vagrat's arse how sick you are. I want answers, and I want them before you all cark it."
"We're not dying."
"You might not be, but your friends are debatable. So tell me again, about that mystery ship."
A low groan came through the communications, and Simon lifted his head from the backrest when Benel said, “He's bleeding from the mouth. So's your other friend. What the hell is going on? What did you do to them?"
"Nothing!” The outlaw cursed. “Damn. Tasj, what's going on? What—"
A muffled explosion, so low and wet sounding, broke off his words.
Simon jerked upright in his chair. “Des!"
There was silence for a few seconds, then came another muffled explosion, again low and wet, followed by a man's scream.
"What the hell?” Emory exclaimed. “They're exploding!"
"Get back!” Des yelled. “Back!"
"I'm covered in blood!” Benel sounded incredulous.
Confusion sounded, and now it was hard to separate the words from the muffled explosions and swearing, the screams and yelling.
"Guts flying—"
"Get down! Get down!"
"He's killing us! Damn it, Ruan—"
"Get me out! Help me! Help me and I'll tell you everything!"
"Tell me what you know now!” Des yelled.
Even in the midst of chaos, Des was trying for information. Simon didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He certainly had a death grip on the armrests of the chair.
"Get out of there, Des,” he muttered from between clenched teeth.
"Help me!” screamed the outlaw. “Let me out! They planted a bomb in us! They gave it to us in the food! Canu—” There came a wet, sticky sound.
"He's bleeding!” Benel yelled. “He's gonna blow!"
"Goddman!” Des swore. “Not yet!"
"Down! Hit the floor!” Emory roared.
There came a gasp of pain, and it was feminine, but it was lost almost as soon as it was uttered, as another soft, wet explosion sounded.
Simon and Heddam stared at the scanner, straining their ears. Desperate to know what had happened, if Des was all right, Simon leaned forward.
"Speak, Des, c'mon,” he said. “Please speak. Let me know you're—"
"Bloody hell!” she roared.
He closed his eyes in relief. The wench was fine.
"No!” There came the sound of something hitting the cell bars. “No, no, no! Damn it, no!"
"I think I'm going to be sick,” Benel's voice sounded weak.
"As long as you don't explode.” Emory gave a shaky laugh.
"Those bastards could have lasted a bit longer!” Des raged.
"Don't slip in those entrails, Boss."
There came a thud, a cry of pain, and a swear word.
"Let's get out of this blood bath.” Benel made a dry retching sound.
"And to think you'll have to clean the cells,” Emory said. “And you were worried about a bit of vomit on the floor."
"Up yours, Emory!"
"This floor is as slippery as hell!” There came another curse as Des must have slipped again.
"That's because you're stepping on the entrails I told you to avoid, Boss."
"Just get off the floor and help me, will you?"
"You're looking a bit green yourself, Boss."
"One more word, Emory, and I swear to the sun I'll reach down your throat and pull you inside out!"
"You don't look so hot yourself, Emory,” Benel said.
The sounds now were grunts, a few more swear words, and finally the slamming of the door leading into the cells.
Another door slammed and then Adin's astonished voice sounded. “What the hell have you three been up to?"
"Questioning the prisoners, what else?” Des snarled.
"What the hell—"
"It's all right,” Benel said. “It wasn't Des that caused this."
Simon couldn't stop the grin that tugged at his lips. Worried for Des he was, but he wished he could have seen her face right then.
"What happened?” Adin's boots sounded as he crossed the room. A creak came, and then he gagged. “Oh my God! Des!"
"I didn't do it. They blew up themselves."
"What?"
"Look, I'd love to go into detail right now, but I have the blood and guts of four men all over me. I want a shower and a change of clothes, then we'll talk."
"But—"
"Unless you want to come in and chat while I'm having a shower, Adin, that's my final word!"
"You can use the work bathroom,” another peacekeeper said. “Please."
"I'm coming,” Emory stated firmly.
"There's only one shower in there,” the peacekeeper said.
"That's okay. I need to use the basin first.” The sound of a dry heave came over, making Simon wince.
"Go through that door,” Adin said quickly. “Throw your clothes outside the door and I'll put them through the clothes cleaner. You can have them back in fifteen minutes."
The communications were suddenly cut.
"They've taken the head microphones out,” Heddam announced.
"Damn.” Simon thrust a hand through his hair. “That wench is making me age fast."
"She does get into some scrapes.” Heddam shook his head. “Simon, you sure know how to pick ‘em."
"Thanks."
"What are you going to do now?"
"Wait until I hear them get back into the pursuit crafts and get home safely."
"I'll wait with you."
"No need.” Simon shook his head. “It might be awhile before they head home. I'm just going to catch up on some trading news and things over the viscomm while I'm waiting."
"Can I bring you something to eat or drink?"
"Nay. I'll get something after."
Heddam left and Simon switched on the trade information, but he kept the scanners running to alert him to when Des and Emory left Sharver and started home. They might have gotten there safely, but he wanted to make sure they returned home safely, too. Especially Des.
* * * *
Raf flew Des and Emory home after they docked the pursuit crafts at the Enforcer Building docking bay. She strode confidently to her door, opened it, turned and gave him a wave.
He waved back and left.
Striding through the door, she turned and shut it behind her, then slumped and leaned back against the wall.
Pain was what she felt. Pain and exhaustion. Her calf burned, her shoulder burned, her ribs burned. She had a pounding headache.
Chels gave a loud ‘meow’ of greeting, and bumped his head against her sore leg. With a groan, she slid down the wall until she sat back against it, her knees bent. Dropping her head forward, she rested her forehead against her knees.
Fuzz rubbed her head against her arm, and without raising her head, Des lifted her hands and gave them both a pat.
"Oh suns,” she muttered. “I am so tried. I am so sore. I want painkiller and my bed.” She groaned as a slight shift in position made her calf burn. “I may have to stay right here, lykitties. I don't think I can move another s
tep. Stars, I hurt!"
"Drink this,” a deep voiced commanded in a low but firm tone.
Des groaned inwardly. She had no doubt to whom that voice belonged. “How did you get in?"
"The same way I did before."
Lifting her head wearily, she found Simon hunkered down beside her. One big hand held a glass of liquid, but it was his concerned gaze that warmed her.
It had been a long time since anyone had waited for her with concern.
"Drink,” he repeated firmly.
Taking the glass, she was surprised to find that her hand trembled a little, but ignoring it, she downed the liquid and grimaced. “Ugh."
"For the pain,” he said unnecessarily.
Handing the glass gratefully back to him, she dropped her forehead back onto her knees. “Thanks.” Opening one eye, she peeked sideways at him, but could only see the rock hard muscles of his chest and abdomen. “What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you."
"Nice. You can go now."
"I don't think so, lass. I'm getting you to bed."
Unsure she'd heard correctly, she lifted her pounding head. “Pardon?"
Before she could realize his intentions, Simon's arms came under her knees and behind her back, and he straightened with ridiculous ease until he stood upright with her cradled in his arms.
The movements made the pains of her injuries known, and she winced even as she protested, “I can walk."
"Just do as you're told for once.” The chiding was soft. “Where's your bedroom?"
In no condition to argue, she pointed in the direction, and Simon carried her through into the bedroom. The light came on dimly at his spoken command, casting the room in a welcoming shade.
The cool tiles underfoot, the slightly darker lilac walls, the simple furnishings and big bed were a welcome sight.
Simon sat her on the side of the bed and knelt down to tug off her boots. She didn't object until he reached up and started to unbutton her shirt.
"I think that's enough.” She laid her hand flat on his, and had to clamp her jaw against a roll of nausea.
"Des—"
"I may be a wreck, trader, but I can still undress myself."
"I'm not about to jump your delectable body, Des.” His gaze was sincere. “You're pale and I can see the pain in your eyes. Let me help."
The pounding of her head was making her nausea worse. “I'll undress myself."
Brushing aside her hand, he continued to efficiently unbutton her shirt. When she tried to stop him again, her head pounded warningly, her stomach churned and her shoulder screamed a silent protest.
Hitting the opposite cell to the exploding bodies hadn't helped the healing process of her body. Keeping up the façade in front of the other peacekeepers had taken every effort of willpower, but once she had let the façade drop in the privacy of her own home, there was no way she could regain it.
Taking a deep breath, she centered her thoughts on settling her stomach.
Simon gently peeled the shirt back and down her shoulders, tossing it onto the end of the bed. Pushing upright, he retrieved her nightgown from the pillow and held it in his hands. “You want your support garment left on, lass?"
"Yeah, leave the bra on,” she rasped.
The nightgown was dropped over her head, and she lifted leaden arms through the thin straps.
Once it was settled over her and pooled in her lap, Simon placed one hand at her waist. “Stand up, lass."
Her calf almost spasmed and she had to grip Simon's arm to steady herself. His fingers unsnapped the button of her pants, hooked into the waistband, and skimmed them down her legs. One at a time she lifted her feet almost mindlessly, and he drew the pants completely off and tossed them onto the end of the bed as well.
Slipping one arm around her waist, he drew her against his side while he grabbed the bedclothes and drew them back.
There was no way she could resist leaning against him, resting her head on his shoulder and easing the weight off her sharply throbbing leg, letting him take charge because all she wanted to do was close her eyes and sleep away the pain and fatigue.
Letting him take charge because she trusted him without a doubt.
The dim light was almost too bright, and she squinted when he lifted her up into his arms and laid her down on the cool sheets.
"Sweetheart?” Concerned, he smoothed the hair back tenderly from her forehead, and his touch was a cool bliss. “What's wrong? ‘Tis not just your injuries causing you pain."
"Headache.” She closed her eyes. “Bad headache."
"I'll get the medic—"
"No.” She held out her hand, snagging his vest. “There's nothing he can do. I'll sleep it off. I've had it before."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
Opening her eyes a fraction, she managed a ghost of a smile. “You know, apart from my Dad and Moresby, you're the only other person who cares."
"Your mother—"
"Doesn't love me.” She closed her eyes. “It's okay, Simon. I'll be okay."
There was silence.
The coolness of the pillow beneath her cheek didn't ease the pounding inside her head, but simply lying down was a huge help. And once the pain killer kicked in...
The covers were drawn up to her waist, and her tight, damp braid was untwined, releasing the pressure on her scalp. Then she felt calloused fingertips on her forehead, the touch light and soothing as Simon gently massaged her temples, moving from the middle of her forehead and down to her temples to massage again, the rhythm repeating over and over.
It was magic. Within minutes she could swear the pounding wasn't so bad.
"'Tis a bit better?” Simon asked softly.
"Yes...” she whispered. “Good.” It was all she could manage to say before sleep tugged at her and she drifted off to the soothing touch of his hands.
Nine
She awoke during the night to feel a warm body behind her, strong and reassuring, and knew it was Simon. Somehow she wasn't surprised that he'd stayed.
Still drowsy and in pain, the headache thankfully now a dull thumping, she made to sit up and the arm around her waist tightened.
"Des?” Simon came up on his elbow.
"I just need the bathroom."
"Dimmest light,” he ordered softly, and immediately only enough light to see by filled the room. “I'll take you."
"Honestly, I can go by myself.” She touched his arm.
His arm disappeared, but by the time she'd carefully stood up, he was beside her, his arm around her waist once more.
"You're not going into the toilet with me,” she said firmly.
"Fine. I'll take you to the door of the bathroom."
He was true to his word, and when she finished attending her needs and washing her hands, he was waiting by the closed door to assist her back to bed. Once she was lying down, he pulled the covers back over her and padded out of the room in bare feet.
She was awake enough now to notice that he only wore long pants. He'd obviously divested himself of vest and boots to lie on her bed.
Back within minutes, he held a small glass and a larger, frosty glass. “Pain killer and water."
Sitting on the side of the bed, he waited while she propped herself up painfully on one elbow, then he handed her the analgesia first, followed by the water.
"Thanks.” She lay back down.
Placing the empty glasses on the bedside table, he moved back around the bed, and she felt the mattress dip under his weight when he got on.
"Simon,” she said softly. “You don't have to stay. I'll be all right."
There was a few seconds of silence, then his voice came low in the dimness. “Do you want me to go?"
She didn't have to think twice. “No."
"Then close your eyes and go back to sleep."
Smiling to herself at the gentle order, she obeyed. “You're bossy."
"Aye. Like you."
The covers lifted, the cool ni
ght air making her shiver before the sudden presence of his hot, hard body was pressed against her back again. His arm slid around her waist and he curled around her protectively.
"Lights off.” His voice was a deep rumble that vibrated through his chest.
His chin brushed the top of her head and he made a contented sound deep in his throat.
Relaxing into his warm embrace, Des slipped back into the healing power of sleep.
* * * *
"It's done, then.” Canute tipped his chair back and gazed up at the ceiling.
"The military won't get the men,” Zared confirmed. “They're dead."
"How fortunate that the Sharver peacekeepers were so busy.” Canute smiled. “A job very well done.” He raised the glass of wine to his lips and took a sip. “I hear the peacekeepers involved were a little shocked."
Zared smiled.
"Des held together very well, though. Just ranted and raved.” Canute's smile widened. “Such spirit."
"The woman is strong."
"Strong and spirited. She'll last a long time.” Canute raised the glass and studied the ruby depths of the liquid that filled it. “Desdemona is one in a million."
"That she is.” Sitting opposite Canute, Zared stared out into the night sky. “That she is."
Lifting his legs to rest his booted heels on the tabletop, Canute rested the glass against his cheek. “We move soon."
"You're getting back readings?"
"Faint, but growing. Two places are dud, the other two...” He took a sip of wine. “The other two are so much more promising, and one place in particular.” He took a deep breath of the fragrant wine. “Yes, one place in particular holds more than one interest."
* * * *
Des was still sleeping when Simon woke up. Nestled in his arms, her face tucked into his neck, her long limbs entwined with his, and her soft breasts pressed against his chest, she was a warm armful, and one he would normally have enjoyed exploring more. However, the pain she'd been in during the remainder of the night after her trip to Sharver was very real. It had taken awhile before her restlessness in bed had eased to a more relaxed sleep.
A cold, wet nose poking into his ear made him flinch and glance over his shoulder, to see Chels sitting on the side of the bed, his face quizzical. Tail twitching, he licked his lips.
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