Heart of a Peacekeeper

by Angela Verdenius

  He caught her hand as she made to move past him. “We don't have to go to bed. There's a sofa here, the ottoman, the wall.” He smiled slow and wicked. “The table."

  "You're a bad trader, and a bad influence on a poor peacekeeper.” Dipping her head down, she kissed him once more, and would have straightened except that he tugged her down to tumble into his lap.

  He wanted to give her something to remember and think about for the rest of the day, and so he made the kiss slow and deep, hot and carnal. By the time he set her back on her feet, her cheeks were flushed and her breath quicker.

  Fanning herself, she back stepped. “Yep, you're just bad, Simon."

  "Bad lads are good fun.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  Rolling her eyes, she went back into the bedroom. Simon rinsed her plate and glass in the sink, and was waiting for her by the bench when she came back out, strapping her laser to her thigh.

  Walking up to him, Des kissed him on the lips. “See you later."

  "Aye.” He reached around and gave her tight braid a gentle tug. “Take care."

  It was a comfortable moment, intimate, and they smiled at each other before they both left to attend their own work.

  When Simon neared the trade ship, he saw just about every member of his crew waiting for them. The fact that all were grinning wasn't a problem, but he rolled his eyes when he saw Aamun and Heddam sorting out the winning bets between the others.

  "Bastards,” he said.

  "Now, Simon, ‘tis something you've done in the past to our friends,” Heddam replied cheerfully. “'Tis just your turn now."

  "Aye.” Shamon's eyes twinkled. “You look ... relaxed."

  Mikal and Torkra nudged each other.

  "I saw that.” Simon gave his two youngest friends a narrow-eyed look. “And considering that you two haven't been out of a wench's bed for more than two hours at a time, I'd say you need some rest."

  "Oh, my.” Shamon fluttered his eyelashes. “I think mayhap someone else didn't get as much rest, after all."

  Simon sent him a rude gesture.

  "I am shocked."

  Jarak and Kel sniggered, while Brekya, Findel and Etol tried to look shocked, but failed miserably.

  "So.” Heddam leaned against the ramp pole. “How goes the little peacekeeper?"

  "Aye. Did she have to use the stunner on you?” Roaring with laughter, Shamon slapped his knee.

  "Oh, very funny. Just you wait Shamon. Some little wench is going to grab you one day and turn your life upside down."

  Shamon looked smug. “No wench has ever had that power over me."

  "Just wait.” Simon gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “And I'll be the one doing the laughing."

  "I'll be taking bets.” Aamun held up his hand.

  Etol rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You know, out of Darvk's original crew, the only ones who haven't yet got wed are Simon, Shamon and Heddam."

  Both traders stopped laughing.

  "Don't even joke about it.” Heddam shuddered. “Forced to be with one wench, unable to spread my loving prowess around to other lucky wenches."

  "'Twould take an exceptional wench to win my heart,” Shamon stated bluntly.

  Aamun smiled slightly but said nothing.

  Simon raised one brow. “You never know when or where, friend. Just one day, you'll stumble across your lass, and that ‘twill be that. You won't want another wench, just her. Forever."

  Mikal made a gagging noise.

  "Shock,” Torkra explained gravely.

  "Young blokes.” Jarak shook his head. “They have no idea."

  Simon looked around the cargo hold. “Everything packed and ready?"

  "Aye.” Kel nodded. “The last of everything was packed securely yesterday. The merchants await us on Kyros."

  "Right. We leave the day after tomorrow as originally planned.” Simon glanced back towards Des's home, already feeling a reluctance to leave.

  Aamun's expression was understanding. “Simon, we can do this trip while you spend some more time with Des."

  His friends nodded in agreement.

  It was tempting, but Simon knew Des wouldn't be happy if he stayed. They both had jobs to do, and she would expect nothing less than that they did it. “Nay, ‘tis fine.” He smiled crookedly. “I'd better get used to being away from my lass now and again."

  "'Tis early days,” Etol said, sympathy in his eyes.

  "Aye. No doubt I'll get used to it.” Simon grinned. “Just think of the making-up for time when I get back!"

  Mikal gagged again.

  "Shock,” Torkra said gravely.

  "Pair of young bastards.” Simon shook his head and laughed.

  * * * *

  "Nothing on the murders?” Des shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the peg on the wall behind the desk.

  "Not a thing. No one is talking, no one saw anything.” Huxley turned around in the chair. “Basically, no one cares about these missing women because they had no families, came from who-knew-where, and were whores. But they were still people, Des. They don't deserve to be treated like throwaways."

  "I know.” She started going through the files on the computer. “I totally agree. But on the other hand, they know what might happen to them on the outskirts of the Outlaw Sector. Women get raped, hurt, and disappear. So do men. Their profession doesn't make it easier for them.” She glanced at Huxley's frowning face. “But it doesn't excuse what happens to them. No one needs to face being hurt. But it's a fact of life out here."

  He sighed. “I know."

  The door opened and Des rolled her eyes when Orde and Marcel walked in. “Stars above, look who Moresby finally tossed out of the Medical Clinic."

  "Too much man to hold down for long.” Marcel flexed his muscles.

  "Good to see you up and about,” Huxley greeted them.

  Orde looked at Des. “Thought you could use some more hands on the street."

  "I don't think so. You're going home to rest."

  He smiled slightly. “You went back to work quick."

  "That's because I'm the Boss."

  Marcel huffed. “We're in better condition that you, considering we had more rest."

  "I had rest."

  "Anyway, we being back on board takes some of the pressure off the others."

  "Wipe that smirk off your face, Marcel, before I put you back in the bloody medical clinic."

  "Now, Boss, your uncle himself gave us a clearance for light duties.” He waved a disc in the air. “It's all on here, legal and proper and everything."

  "Oh, well, that makes all the difference, then, doesn't it?” She held out her hand. “Give it to me."

  "You don't trust us,” he said cheerfully.

  Orde sat down in a chair and watched the byplay with his usual quiet amusement.

  "Damn right.” Taking the disc from Marcel, Des slid it into the computer and brought the document up. Just as she'd known, the document was a clearance for light duties. “That must have hurt."

  "What?"

  "Being truthful.” Popping the disc out, she stored it in the disc files.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Leaning her arm on the desk, Des stabbed her finger in his direction. “Since you three have been in the clinic, my stash of lollies has remained untouched. Now that you're back, they'll start disappearing again."

  "You have missed us!"

  "Thieving bastards.” She grinned. “All right, I'm glad you're all well again. Aiken?"

  "Discharged home in the care of his lady friend.” Marcel winked. “Probably started a little massage therapy, if you get what I mean."

  "Obviously not going to get the same from your wife."

  "She said she'd wait for tonight. The anticipation will be greater.” He winked.

  Des rolled her eyes. “I'm sorry I asked.” Leaning back in the chair, she studied the men.

  No longer were they pale, and they did seem to be in good health generally. Her uncle wouldn
't lie nor stretch the truth. If he deemed them well enough to resume light duties, then they were recovered enough. But still...

  "Tell you what.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “Everything seems quiet at the moment, but the men have been doing long hours. Neither of you will be on night duty for at least another week, but you can come back this afternoon and relieve the day shift. They've had some long shifts and could do with some time off."

  "Sure, Boss."

  "I could stay this morning,” Orde said.

  "No. Afternoons to start with for a few days, whole days if we get busy. You get a bit more recuperation time, and the others get a break.” She raised one brow at them. “That's the way it's going to be, so like it or lump it."

  "Charming,” Marcel said.

  "I thought so. Now go home and get some rest."

  "You, of course, won't be doing any such thing."

  "She has other diversions,” Huxley said.

  "Ah, yes.” Marcel's eyes gleamed. “The Daamen trader."

  Orde continued to look mildly amused.

  "Jealous?” Des drawled.

  "Want to share some details?"

  "Want to share some knuckles?” She pointed to the door. “Out."

  Orde and Marcel left, grinning.

  Des turned back to the computer. “And Huxley?"

  "Yeah, Boss?"

  "Next time you want to gossip, don't pick my love life to be the main topic."

  "You've got a love life?"

  "You're asking for it."

  "Buttoning my lip now, Boss.” Laughing, he turned back to the communications system.

  The morning passed quietly. Creed met Des for lunch, along with some of his pack. They ate at one of the taverns, and Des was amused at how the room was severely lacking in the normal amount of patrons.

  But the quiet was good, and she certainly didn't mind having a rest from the normal fights, shootings and brawls.

  The Daamen traders waved cheerfully to her and called out greetings when she passed them on her way back to the Enforcer Building. She saw Simon across the street, and his warm smile went straight to her heart. She nodded to him, gave a brief smile, and continued on her way.

  Showing public affection was something she certainly wasn't comfortable with, and not something she was about to take on board right now. If ever. She hoped Simon understood that.

  Orde and Marcel came on just after lunch, and Emory and Huxley happily went home. Orde did fly-overs, but there was nothing to report. Marcel manned the scanners and communicators, eventually putting them into the micro headphones so that all could hear if anyone tried to communicate while he and Des did a tour of the settlement.

  "It's only this quiet when military or hunters are around,” he observed. “Maybe we should ask your Dad to make his main port here."

  "Not bloody likely.” Des laughed. “His ship is his port. Dad doesn't have a home as such."

  "Except for yours."

  "And then only if he's passing close enough to call in."

  The rest of the day passed quietly. When Des left the Enforcer Building, it was late afternoon, the first time in a long time that she'd left with the sun still shining. Enjoying the uneasy peace, she refused a lift home and walked back, breathing in the clean air as she left the settlement.

  Overhead flew a couple of space crafts and a late shuttle, but all was quiet. An uneasy peace and quiet as the outlaws kept a very low profile. It amused Des, because the outlaws that kept a low profile didn't warrant a second glance from the bounty hunters. They weren't interested in two-bit thieves and brawlers. They were after bigger game that brought in much more dinnos.

  But it made the two-bit outlaws feel important anyway.

  And it gave Des and her men a nice break, one she fully intended to enjoy.

  Opening the door to her home, she was greeted by a delicious aroma.

  "I'm home!” She shut the door behind her and ambled down the corridor and into the living area.

  Simon looked up from where he was sprawled on the sofa reading a book, Chels lying across his lap and Fuzz beside him. “You're early."

  "I'm sorry.” She walked into the kitchen. “Am I interrupting something?” Opening the oven door, she peered in and took a deep breath. “Yummy."

  "Well, Chels and Fuzz and I were having a quiet moment, a little heart-to-heart, but by all means, feel free to interrupt."

  "Hey, if you cook like this all the time, you can come in and have little heart-to-hearts with them anytime.” Crossing back to the sofa, she leaned on the back of it and looked down into his upturned face. “I didn't know you could cook."

  His eyes gleamed. “Two things I do well. Cook and sex."

  "And just my two favorite things.” She dropped a laughing kiss onto his lips. “We're evenly matched."

  Before she could draw back, he hooked his hand around her nape, holding her still for a longer, deeper kiss. When he finally released her, she was a little breathless. “Add kissing to your ‘I Do Well’ list."

  "Why, thank you, lass.” His grin was mischievous and a touch carnal. “I also have very talented hands."

  "I discovered that last night.” Straightening up, she headed for the corridor to the bedroom. “I'm going for a shower."

  "I'd join you, lass, but I doubt your father would be happy."

  "My father?"

  Simon's face had a comical expression, half perturbed, half laughing. “He's coming to dinner."

  Stunned, she looked at him. “What?"

  "Invited himself. Dropped by earlier, smelled the food, and told me to put extra on because he was coming to dinner to check out his daughter's new man a little more thoroughly."

  She didn't know whether to laugh or ... laugh. “That's so cute."

  "You think?” Turning his head to frown at her, he added, “You're not the one about to get the third degree from a daddy."

  Laughing, she went into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes. Just the thought of Creed and Simon tiptoeing around each other was hilarious.

  She was still chuckling when she came back out, dressed in a light tunic that came down to her knees and had small, capped sleeves, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She was even more amused to see Simon and Creed sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, Simon watchful and Creed with a glint in his eyes.

  "C'mon, Dad.” She poured herself a glass of cold drink and leaned back against the sink. “Give him a break."

  "Don't know what you mean, baby girl,” Creed replied cheerfully.

  "Has he been hassling you, Simon?"

  "Not at all, lass.” Simon smiled at her, but his eyes remained wary.

  "He's not running that honest woman crap, is he?"

  "Did that last night."

  "Dad!"

  "What?” Creed spread his arms. “Baby girl, a father has a right to know."

  "You never made an honest woman out of Gracie."

  "Gracie was never an honest woman to start with!"

  Simon frowned at this, his gaze changing to one of concern. “Des..."

  "It's all right, Simon.” Taking the chair next to him, Des patted his arm. “I know what Gracie is, and it's okay. Really."

  It was more than obvious from his baffled expression that Simon was puzzled.

  "You explain it to him,” Des told Creed.

  "What? Why?"

  "You started the whole thing. Go on."

  He rolled his eyes. “Simon, you have no idea how bossy Desdemona can be."

  "'Tis all right. I like her bossiness."

  Des smiled at him. “How sweet."

  "Except in the be...” Simon's voice trailed off as he remembered who else was at the table with him.

  Knowing he was going to say ‘bedroom', Des raised her eyebrows at him. “Yes? You were saying?"

  "Nothing.” He took a hasty swallow of una, faint color in his cheeks.

  Creed grinned widely, his gold tooth flashing in the light.

  Des fo
und Simon's disconcertion at being with her father, and having their relationship questioned by him, sweet. Normally so self-assured and confident, with no fear of anything, the big trader was completely thrown by Creed.

  Slipping her hand beneath the table, she rested it on Simon's knee and squeezed.

  Simon nearly choked on his una.

  Tamping down the laughter that threatened to overcome her, Des looked at Creed. “Go on. Fill Simon in on our background, so he knows what he's getting himself into."

  Recovering himself, Simon stated, “Your background doesn't bother me, Des. I've told you that."

  "But it's good to know anyway.” She shrugged. “No nasty surprises later."

  "You don't think having a bounty hunter for a father isn't a nasty surprise?” Creed queried, amused.

  "He's still sitting here, isn't he?"

  Settling back in the chair, Creed said cheerfully, “Here it is in a nutshell, boy. I was a young gung-ho man, new to the bounty hunter business, and strutting my stuff. Gracie was a pretty, buxom piece, and I fell for her. Or fell onto her.” His wink was lewd.

  "Just the basics, Dad. We don't want to spoil our appetites."

  "Right. Anyway, she got pregnant and was not happy. Wanted to get rid of Des, but I paid her a heap of dinnos to carry and birth my baby girl, and then I took over the care of my girl.” Creed smiled lovingly at Des. “Brought her up with the help of my pack and my brother, Moresby, and his wife."

  At the feel of Simon's hand covering hers under the table, Des glanced at him, surprised to see the compassion in his eyes.

  "I'm sorry, lass."

  "For Gracie not wanting me?” Des shrugged. “Its all right. I wasn't brought up believing in fairytales. I knew what she was, how she felt, but I also knew Dad wanted me.” Des smiled at Creed. “Enough to part with a lot of dinnos."

  "I was poor for a while.” Creed sighed. “Very, very poor. I don't think you paid me back, did you?"

  "Hell, Dad, I cooked you enough bloody meals."

  Simon squeezed her hand gently. “If ‘tis an issue, I can pay—"

  Realizing that Simon wasn't really understanding, Des turned to him. “Simon, Dad's teasing. He loves me to pieces, and I knew he loved me. I never lacked for anything. I'm proud of my Dad, and I know he's always there for me. His pack are my friends. And Moresby loves me in his own strange way. Don't feel sorry for me, Simon. I'm happy."